| Kylee Mission 3: Cease Living At Some Later Date Page 1 |
| The blast beneath her feet catapulted the micro agent dozens of relativistic feet into the air. Executing a flawless mid-air somersault and stretching her arms to grasp, she caught the top of the book spine and hauled her ass to safety. The hiss of an unhappy Felis catus shook her confidence while simultaneously alleviating her worries. The gigantic paw crashed around her, no strike landing near enough to be of any consequence. Mister Buttons wasn�t giving up and Kylee took the time to examine her surroundings. A bookcase looked quite unique from her perspective and she wished she�d taken the time to view them while on other cases. Richard Steinberg was going down in her book as her worst assignment ever. This man met every check on the list of full-blown wack-a-loons. What kind of sick nutcase shrunk women for the sole purpose of watching them get chased by his pets? Tiffany and Yasmine, bless their naive souls, had been gobbled up within thirty seconds of arriving. Who could spend four hours accepting the reality of their reduced state and then believe an enormous feline wouldn�t see them as snacks? The crunching of their bones would resonate in her consciousness for a long time, longer and more powerfully even than the sight of a fellow agent being crushed without mercy. Blessedly a firecracker was strong enough at her minute stature to propel her to safety. Now all she had to do was survive a dog, a snake, and a spider before earning the rare privilege of being swallowed alive by the head tormentor. Their time with the cat was up and the alarm was ready to sound. BEEP...BEEP...BEEP...BEEP...BEEP...BEEP A book sailed across the room and crashed into the television. Kylee rolled from the bed and kicked the alarm clock. A secondary panic reaction made her shrink herself to an inch high and duck behind a slipper. The realization that it was all a dream made her restore herself and she silently prayed thanks that she didn�t own any pets. That last mission reasserted her desire to prevent any potential accidents it could cause. If only she could get rid of the nightmares that had haunted her the past twelve nights. She would have to lie if she wanted to resume working in two days. The clock glowed its digits into her eyes. Somehow, she had managed to set her alarm clock to ten minutes faster than every other clock in her house. It had to be a sick twist God had put into human DNA. She grimaced and stumbled for the shower, glad that she slept in the nude because her brain wasn�t in any shape to handle the arduous task of removing garments. Taking a second to squint under the harsh glare of bathroom lighting, she examined herself. Her lower ribcage, just below her breasts, still bore the faint bruises inflicted upon her four months prior by a rogue and presumed dead agent. Even now, she still felt an occasional searing pain in her ribs and she favored her right leg. Just her luck, she�d been bruised to the bone, but it was the least that could have happened to her that day. Scorching water cascading down her naked form, coupled with the pulse of her showerhead, eased the pain and the nightmares melted away to the recesses of her subconscious. Her outstretched hands pressed to the wall were all that kept her standing, a ritual she endured every morning in the solitude of her apartment. One nagging thought persisted this morning, a thought she had never considered before. Maybe her physical injuries weren�t what haunted her. There was more to her agony, it an epiphany she�d had while examining the bookcase. She knew what it was, yet was scared of how to solve it, how to cure her loneliness. Tiffany and Yasmine had had families, friends, and loved ones who would never fully understand what had happened to the two innocent cheerleaders. She had a boss and coworkers, puppy dog crushes and lustful thoughts towards her were as far as any of it ever went. Elsa had had the same, but her locker had a new name on it a week later. Everyone who had been lost eventually suffered the same fate of oblivion. Could she name the top agent she had replaced? Could the boss man? What would she leave behind? The doc had been waiting for her since the moment she�d cleared the security checkpoints. No one felt right calling her a shrink, that term was reserved solely for the lab techs who worked around the clock with the formula. The term she received was �Crazy Lady,� for obvious reasons. The austere surroundings unnerved her, they reminded Kylee too much of her own apartment. She also rejected the convention of hanging diplomas, leaving some to jokingly wonder whether or not Crazy Lady was a real doctor. Kylee had little doubt; the Freudian couch eased any concerns. She dropped onto that offending piece of furniture with a disgruntled sigh. �Is there a problem?� the raven-haired analyst began. Her authoritative presence extended beyond the tone of her voice to the tight bun she kept her locks trapped in and the gray power suit adorning the rest of her. �Nothing, why do ask?� �The sigh would be a good indicator. Are you hiding something?� �Does that bother you?� Any kind of a dig she could get in made her felt better. �I see you�ve decided to pretend you�re a psychiatrist again?� �And how does that make you feel?� �It makes me feel like a certain agent is hiding her true problems and wants nothing more than to be certified for duty again.� �Congratulations, you get a gold star. Three more and you�ll get the first pick of toys at playtime.� �I�ll be frank with you, keep this up and I�ll not only recommend you stay off duty, but I�ll have you committed.� �It�s nice to see I can win a battle or two every now and then.� �Now that the usual opening banter has been broken, can we get to the real issues? Does this have anything to do with your last few missions?� No, this is totally spontaneous, came to mind and she fought to suppress such thoughts. �Just two recent missions have me concerned.� The gasp was small, yet audible. �I apologize, this is the first time you�ve opened up since your initial psych evaluation. Now, what missions and what in particular have you concerned?� �My last one of course and the... other one. The... one... with... the... um...� �That�s okay, you don�t have to say it yet. If you don�t mind my candor, I suspected there was far more bothering you than what you would admit to.� The rest of the session went smoothly with great progress for Kylee. She left with the certification she had consciously sought and had made progress on the thoughts that only recently had found their way to the surface. Continue >>> |