Chapter 16 | Jason Allen

  “What were you thinking, Jason? Have you lost your mind?” Holden barrages me with insults as I return to the Agency after my bounty. Holden grabs my shoulders and shakes me a bit, “How could you kill a target in public?”

  The anger in his voice echoes from across the entire hall, the other agents that pass either smirk or laugh at me.

  Holden sighs, “Doesn’t matter. I’ll get a team to do a cleanup operation and hopefully,” he deepens his stare at me, “hopefully, the people won’t put your story on public news.”

  I nod, still sweating from the many passive aggressive insults thrown at me.

  “Well then, let’s go over your full mission notes, shall we?”

  I nod, the mission notes were another thing Holden had told me about. They contain most details from each mission for almost every agent due to a special kind of ability Holden told me he would explain when mine starts to show.

  “So,” he begins, “You found him in an alley, shot him in the foot, got knocked off your feet,” he pauses, “you realmed the two of you and ran through a crowd of people, in realm, to catch up to him. Then you-”

  He fully stops. He reads the words over and over and mutters them under his breath.

  “You used your sense.”

  “Is that what those chains were?”

  He looks up, “Is that the first time you’ve seen them?”

  I nod, “I was just wondering what could grab him and hold him for me to catch him easier, then they, well, appeared!”

  Holden sets down the folder, “Jason… do you know what you just did? That puts you ahead of most agents here. By a long shot.”

  “How so? What’s so special about my chains?”

  “Well, Jason, a sense is an ability that most agents won’t ever be able to use. Can you guess why?”

  I think for a moment, “Because they aren’t taught how to?”

  He shakes his head, “You weren’t taught how to. Try again.”

  I think even more, “I give up, man, why so?”

  He sits forward in his chair, “It’s because you have to believe that it will happen, whatever it is. It’s dead set by the time you’re hired and the only way to find one is to test the ones we already know about, like yours.”

  “So other people can use my chains?”

  “Well,” he puts up his finger, “kind of. Some older agents, before me, could, but now there’s only a few who we think may be able to, and you,” he points at me, “are the only one currently hired.”

  “Wait, so you can just see someone’s sense before they’re hired?”

  “Not necessarily, just a few senses are that noticeable.” He pauses, “Before I forget,” he pulls another folder from his desk, “this is for you, your next assignment.” I begin to open the folder to read the many pages inside when I’m met with, “Not yet, after our meeting.”

  I slowly put it behind my back to keep listening,

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  “Anyways, your sense is called Grasp, and it can be used in different ways depending on the first time you use it, yours are,” he reads some more, “pure white, and I assume, you intended to use them as an extension of yourself?”

  I think about his words, “I think so, I just wanted something I could use to stop him.”

  Holden nods, “I see. Well, keep working on it, trying to use it will strengthen your power with it, so keep up the good work.” He keeps reading through my file. I stand there, holding my file wondering when to bring up my biggest question. “That’s it, Jason, you can leave.”

  “Actually,” I begin, “there is one thing I need to ask about.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Well, I heard something while I was on my mission. Something out of the ordinary. It sounded vaguely familiar and came back a few times.”

  He drops his pen and, once again, starts looking through his files. He reaches the back and grabs a folder with one word written largely and underlined: “Flow.”

  “I haven’t read this file since I got mine a long time ago. This is the key,” he pushes it into my chest, “to you becoming the agent you should be. I didn’t expect it to show up this early.”

  He flips through it while explaining things to me, “Your flow is how you adapt to your surroundings. It’ll show itself more when you begin to embrace it.”

  “Embrace it? How would I do that? I don’t even know what mine is?”

  “I do,” he says, handing me a sheet of paper with a bunch of notes on it, “read that before you read the other file. That should answer your questions. Now, go read that somewhere else, I have things to do.”

  I hurry out of his office and walk around in the main area of the Agency for a bit until I find a place to sit and read these papers.

  ***

  My flow, it seems, is something the agents call “Harmony.” This flow is different from most, as instead of showing the agent something visually, it expresses it through song, usually one already known to the user. It makes sense, I guess, considering the note I heard a few times during my mission sounded familiar.

  The paper says that strengthening my flow comes from finding the song it’s using to show me things and using the song’s notes to adapt in battle. Later on in its stages it should play the songs for me, without my needing to find them.

  It also says that anyone who hears the song while I hear it with my flow is also granted further warning toward attacks and insight toward weak points, like it tells me.

  The file, however, is much different. It’s not any big target to fight, not even a small one.

  It’s two people I have to hire.

  Two people who can use the chains too.

  ***

  The silent presence of my ring makes me remember that I should probably go back home. Sleep never hurt anyone, and Jenny might have some info on new gigs or songs to practice.

  I slide my finger down on the ring and, after a bright flash, I am back in my bathroom. I look up into my mirror, there’s scrapes all over my face and body from being swept off my feet, I assume. Either that or the bit of training I did before I left.

  My thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door, Jenny, I assume.

  “Jason, are you still in there? Dude it’s been like twenty minutes!” I frantically slide the ring up to hide my weapons, and once more for my uniform. I’m back into my regular clothes when I grab the handle and open the door. I stare at Jenny as I begin to walk out.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to be so long.”

  “What were you doing,” she says, pointing at my face, running her finger up and down a cut or two.

  I stutter, looking for a way out. No words come to mind. Think!

  “I was shaving,” I say, “cut myself, I guess.”

  She slowly nods, skeptical. “Then what about your arms and legs, how’d they get like that.

  I look myself up and down and, after hesitating, say “I guess I’m really, really bad at shaving.”

  She sighs. “Doesn’t matter, I guess.” She pushes me out of the way, then turns around and says “Hey, by the way, look at the channel eight news, there’s some cool stuff that would look neat on an album cover.” I give her a thumbs up, and head to my room.

  I turn my television on and scroll to channel eight. The sight leaves me in shock. I drop the remote and move closer to the TV. I’ve got to be seeing this wrong, right?

  It’s me. They filmed me killing the bounty. The camera caught me with some of my current cuts and bruises, and the long, white, flowing hair that is given to my Agent self as a disguise. The chains, they look so real. Everything seems so fake, so imaginary.

  But I just did that. I was there. I was the guy.

  I look over at a book. I begin trying to believe in the chains. I see them in my mind grabbing the book and bringing it to me, but nothing. I stop, breathe, and look closer.

  I’m not trying this time. I’m waiting for them to arrive.

  Moments later, the chains show up, just like I thought. The book is brought straight to my hands.

  The grasp is the new greatest thing in my life.