CHARMING'S AUTHORS NOTE #1: I want to thank everyone who read the prologue, you're all amazing. The reaction to the prologue was great, so many of you are already sucked in! This chapter is where things began to move, exploring the world I've crafted for all of you. I hope all of you enjoy this story, because I truly love it.
CHARMING'S AUTHORS NOTE #2: Thanks to the amazing nevr for helping me with the beta of this story. He's been especially helpful with the first three chapters. Thanks for the help Nev!
The Monster You Made Me
A Story by
CharmingCharles2896
Chapter One
Queen of the Damned
Outside Fargo, North Dakota
June 16th, 2021
Seven Years Later…
Taking a life was as easy as breathing, just a few pounds of pressure and a life just… disappeared. Agent Walker knew what she was, knew what she'd become, but such was the life of an assassin. As one of Langston Graham's top agents, Agent Walker had been given orders, just like every other time. There was a cabin, deep in the woods of North Dakota, not far from Fargo. Two people lived in the cabin, a man and a woman, husband and wife. These two people, the Cutlers, lived alone, rarely ever visiting people, rarely ever receiving visitors. The husband, Bill Cutler, used to be a forger for the CIA, making papers for agents. Multiple people had visited the Cutlers on multiple occasions in the last month, when not even three had visited in the last year. Langley was suspicious and when Langley was suspicious, they sent an Enforcer to resolve things. Rumors had begun that Cutler had been talking to some people from his past, people no longer in the good graces of the CIA. It was suspected that Cutler was working for a foreign group, though Langley couldn't be sure.
As was usual, Agent Walker stalked her prey for days, four of them to be exact. Observing from afar like a predator stalks its next meal, Agent Walker had come to know the Cutlers. Older people, the both of them were retired, both in their late sixties. Bill Cutler always got up before his wife, Teresa, did; some days as early as six in the morning. Bill usually walked his property in the early mornings, taking in the sounds of nature, the stillness of everything. Teresa usually woke up around nine, the woman far frailer than her husband seemed to be. Days were usually spent out on their front porch, the Cutlers not owning a television. The two of them would read, talk, live in the moment, together.
When the night came, Agent Walker wore her typical mission outfit. Snug, black bodysuit, made of a classified composite material for protection, paired with custom made boots to maximize grip while minimizing sound. The holster on her right thigh was also custom made to fit her silenced Sig Sauer P320AXG-Combat. With a specially configured holographic sight, her weapon was truly an instrument of death. The night vision goggles that doubled as a thermal imaging system, adorned her head, over her balaclava. If someone didn't know Agent Walker was a woman, the figure creeping up on the Cutler's cabin would not be possible to identify as anything other than a vision of death.
Agent Walker crept up to the cabin, the place smaller up close than she'd thought it would be. Stepping carefully, Agent Walker mounted the stairs to the porch and made for the door, silent as the wind. The sound of the owls and other wildlife were all that could be heard, Agent Walker's movements undetectable after years of training and experience. Testing the door, Agent Walker found the door to be unlocked, if it even had a lock. Checking the door for traps, Agent Walker entered the cabin. The place wasn't large, maybe twenty-five feet by fifteen feet. Off to her right, there was a living area, a couch and a rocking chair in front of a fireplace. The back of the cabin was a kitchen and a dining area, while the left side of the cabin led to a hallway to a bedroom and a bathroom. Scanning the room, Agent Walker saw Cutler himself asleep in the rocking chair, while snoring emanated from the bedroom. Walking past Cutler, Agent Walker made for the bedroom, where she found Teresa asleep on the right side of a queen-sized bed. The CPAP machine humming away gave the impression of a person too old and weak to deserve a bullet.
Reaching for her pistol, Agent Walker pulled it out, flipped off the safety and shot Teresa in the head, death was instantaneous, merciful. Turning in place, Agent Walker heard the click of a lamp, she should have killed him first. Returning to the main living area, Agent Walker flipped up her NVGs to see Bill Cutler, sad eyes, looking at her.
"Have you come to kill me, Agent?" Bill said, still in his rocking chair. Agent Walker slowly moved towards Bill; her weapon trained on him. "I was wondering when you were going to finally do it, considering you've been watching us for four days," Bill said, making Agent Walker freeze for a beat, surprised that she'd been seen.
"You're good, but I've been around," Bill said softly. "I knew Graham would send someone after me, someday. I know too much." Bill took in a deep breath, which is when Agent Walker spotted the oxygen tank beside him. "My file likely says that I was a forger, that I made papers for the company," Bill began again, knowing he was right. "Like you, I was an Enforcer, but for your boss's mentor, Edwin Mathis. Someday you'll be sitting in this chair and Graham's successor will come after you, needing to clean up the messes left behind."
Pressing her gun to Bill's temple, Agent Walker squeezed the trigger. Bill's head exploded in a grisly scene. Agent Walker holstered her weapon and left the cabin. Walking back into the dark wilderness outside, Agent Walker flipped her NVGs back over her eyes. Frogs sounded in the night, owls contributing their own melodies to the sounds of nature; a sharp contrast to the horror and violence in the cabin. It was a two-mile hike, up a steep mountain, to Agent Walker's camp. It would be light soon, so she knew she had to hurry.
Upon reaching her camp site, Agent Walker stripped out of her mission gear and changed into street clothes, bagging up her blood-stained mission gear. Throwing the bag of gear into the back of a dark green Ford Explorer, Agent Walker set about breaking down her camp. Once packed up, Agent Walker cleaned the sight once more, climbed into her SUV, and drove off into the light of predawn. Cellular coverage was subpar in this region, likely why the Cutler's moved there in the first place. Driving down the winding mountain roads, the words of Bill Cutler echoed through Agent Walker's head.
Someday you'll be sitting in this chair and Graham's successor will come after you, needing to clean up the messes left behind.
Cutler's weak voice kept echoing through her mind, a constant loop, a flat circle of memory. Would she be the one killed or the one doing the killing? Agent Walker didn't know, such thoughts dangerous to someone in her line of work. The idea of Bill Cutler, an Enforcer, having a wife and trying to live a normal life was a concept beyond Agent Walker. People like them didn't get the happy ending. Those who lived in the shadows, died in the shadows. Agent Walker was the shadows, her entire life shrouded in darkness. Living in the light, trying to be normal, was not something she deserved.
Taking out the satellite phone that Graham had given her for the assignment, Agent Walker called the only number programmed into it. "Status?" the voice of Langston Graham said into Agent Walker's ear.
"Finished," Agent Walker said in a clipped tone before hanging up. Lowering her drivers' side window, Agent Walker tossed the phone out into the darkness. Usually, Agent Walker was given thirty-six hours to report in, time for exfiltration if necessary. Considering the remoteness of her location, why waste the time?
~X~
Downtime was the worst part of assignments such as this one. Even the hours onboard the CIA-chartered private flight were excruciating for Agent Walker. Time alone, time without activity was time for memory, something Agent Walker did not want in her life. If Agent Walker could wipe her memory after every hit, she would, damn the consequences.
Agent Walker had done a few terminations like this one, snuffing out couples, families, too many bodies. Each new body added to the list, was another part of her soul taken away, blown to bits by this life she found herself a part of. When Langston Graham had recruited her in Michigan, he'd promised her a life of control and stability, two things she'd always yearned for as a child. All that had to happen was the old her had to die and she could finally make something out of her life, beyond a life of crime. The irony was that Agent Walker's life was more controlled, but less stable. Langston Graham had her father, a man who thought she was dead, yet a man she cared for nonetheless. Graham hadn't threatened her mother. Whether that was through the goodness of his evil heart or knowing that Agent Walker was closer to her father, the reasoning was unknown. The effect was the same, isolation, instability, slavery.
A part of her wondered about life beyond Graham, but with no feasible exit strategy, and nothing left in her life but the CIA, there was no point in even hoping for a change. Agent Walker's parents were estranged, distant memories from a life long since passed. The one man she'd ever been in a long-term relationship with had died a year ago, perils of the life they lived. Her one friend on earth was crippled, retired from the CIA after a gunshot wound to the leg, just five months earlier. Solitude was all that Agent Walker knew these days, but then again, that's all she'd known for most of her life. Solitude even when in the presence of other people was a strange thing, maybe more isolating than truly being alone.
People threw around the phrase hell on earth, but many had no concept of it. The life Agent Walker was living was truly hell on earth, but it was deserved, damnation for the Queen of the Damned. This life, one of her own making, just as Graham had promised, was not one to be enjoyed. No, Agent Walker was destined to wander through life, from one dead body to another. seventeen dead bodies in five years, something inconceivable before this life, but something normal now. The normalization of horror was something to be feared. When one got used to the death, one lost their touch with reality. Life became a hollow, blood-soaked cavalcade of horrors, a beast that needed constant feeding and attention. For Agent Walker, life was dark and bleak, but deserved; punishment for her misdeeds. Eventually she'd be the one in the chair and her penance would be complete, but not until then.
~X~
Langley, Virginia
July 29th, 2023
Walking into Langley may have been Agent Walker's least favorite part of the job when not on assignment. People knew who she was. Most didn't know details about her work, but people knew what she was. The reputation gained from being one of Graham's Enforcers was the kind of reputation that made a person feared. After passing through security, Agent Walker made her way to Langston Graham's office. After so many years in the CIA, this was a route that she could walk blindfolded. The looks others gave Agent Walker when passing her by in the hallways made her feel like an outsider. Most stepped out of her way, many didn't make eye contact, all were afraid of her, of what the rumors said she was capable of.
Stepping onto an elevator, others who'd intended to take the elevator either stepped aside or left the elevator as she walked onto it. "I'll just catch the next one," an older, Mexican man said as he stepped off, giving Agent Walker a nervous, forced smile. The door closed and she felt movement beneath her feet. Being an Enforcer was exhausting and extremely isolating, not that Graham cared at all. If it wasn't for Carina, Agent Walker would be all alone in the world, nobody to talk to, nobody to lean on, alone. Even then, Carina's career-ending injury meant there was a distance between them; the distance that civilian life naturally created. Maybe Agent Walker deserved to be alone, maybe this was punishment for her sins. Whatever it was, she was growing more and more weary of it all the time.
Exiting the elevator and taking a right, Agent Walker made the last leg of a familiar walk, one she'd done countless times. At the end of the hallway, a large, wooden door stood proudly. The gold name plate on the door read a familiar name and title.
Office of the Director of Central Intelligence
Langston Graham
Agent Walker had no idea why she'd been so urgently recalled to Langley. In truth, she wasn't even supposed to be in the building. Just being here was against the rules for her right now. A mandated three month leave of absence, courtesy of the shrinks a few floors below, had cast her aside, banished her to a world of loneliness and boredom. The CIA's head shrinkers had claimed that Agent Walker was burning out, too much killing, too much work for one mind to handle. In one respect, the shrinks were right, the nightmares were getting worse; the isolation was affecting her more than ever. A general feeling of discontent had never been more prevalent within her. Now, just two weeks into her leave of absence, Graham was calling her back on 'urgent business.' Walking into Graham's office, Agent Walker saw a man far more agitated than she'd ever seen him. Something had Graham on edge, which was disconcerting enough.
Sitting down in the chair across from Graham, she saw a pensive look on her boss' face, filled with conflict and doubt. "Thank you for coming so quickly, Agent Walker, I know you were on leave, but this cannot wait." Agent Walker did all she could not to roll her eyes in the face of Graham's phony concern. Graham didn't give two shits about her. Her value to Graham was only measured in her usefulness to him. Refocusing on Graham, Agent Walker saw him reach for a stack of files on his desk, all marked 'TOP SECRET DO NOT COPY' across the front cover. Flipping through them for a moment, Graham eventually pulled one out, a thick one, and tossed it onto his desk, close enough for Agent Walker to grab it.
Agent Walker read the name on the front cover, "Charles Irving Bartowski." Looking up at Graham with a quirked eyebrow, she spoke again. "Who is he?"
"This man is your next target," Graham began quickly. "Bartowski is in possession of classified materials, items sensitive to national security. You are to fly to Burbank, California, where he lives. Once you have arrived in Burbank, surveil the target, find an opportunity, and terminate him." Agent Walker nodded in understanding and stood.
"Take your time with this one, Agent Walker; make sure there is no chance this could be seen as a hit." It was unusual for Graham to give such specific orders, usually trusting Agent Walker to do her job. The fact that Graham felt the need to emphasize something so obvious, told her all she needed to know about the gravity of this assignment.
"Nobody will suspect a thing, Sir," Agent Walker said seriously. "Bartowski's days are numbered." Without another word, she turned and left Graham's office. She had a lot of preparation and work to do for this hit, so she had to get started. Agent Walker was the best Enforcer there was and she did not fail assignments.
~X~
It wasn't often that Agent Walker actually went to her desk. Like all CIA employees, she had a desk where she was technically supposed to work between assignments. Her 'day job' if it could even be called that, was anti-terrorism. In truth, she stayed plugged into the chatter in the terrorism world between hits for Graham. Returning to her desk, Agent Walker saw the same barren, lifeless cubicle that she'd always inhabited. No decorations adorned the walls or desk, no pictures of family. It was as if nobody worked in this particular cubicle, even as her name was on the outside of it.
Sitting down at her desk, Agent Walker opened the file that she'd been given. The man she saw didn't look like much. He was tall and had curly, brown hair, but he looked harmless. All the better, she hated the dangerous targets. They always thought they were big and bad; made her job infinitely harder. Men like Bartowski were the easy ones, the targets that she wished she had more of. The file on this Bartowski guy was big, which was strange for a civilian who worked a nine to five. Graham seemed spooked by Bartowski, so Agent Walker wasn't taking any chances with this one, she was going to do it the right way, by the book.
"Okay, Bartowski, tell me your secrets," she muttered as her work began.
CHARMING'S AUTHORS NOTE #3: Sarah has her target, the Enforcer is now on the hunt, our journey has begun. If you are enjoying this story so far, please consider leaving a review, as well as favoriting and following the story. I truly enjoy reading what all of you wonderful people think about my work. See you next Thursday for chapter two "The Man From Burbank."
Until Next Time :D