Cosmically Inclined

I hate her, I hate her, I absolutely hate her.

She looks so at home here, on my kitchen counter, she's literally on the surface of my kitchen counter, putting her butt right next to my containers of sliced fruit. Ugh, I put my food where she's sitting, god forbid the Elara Espresion acts like a normal person and sits in a chair.

She's perched like a cat. One knee tucked under an elbow as one hand holds a bowl and the other is adding an obscene amount of sugar to it which was enough to knock out a toddler.

There is a feigned nonchalance around her like she is forcing herself to be comfortable in this space. Her eyes darting and wary track my movements with a predatory gaze. Knowing her, she probably already clocked all the exit and entry points of my apartment and probably chose the kitchen counter for the advantage of higher ground as a defensible position should a situation arise that would require it.

Old habits die hard I guess. That's not the only thing that dies hard around here. 

Seeing her, Elara here in my kitchen at 7:00 am on a Friday morning is enough to give a headache. I thought that if I ever saw her again, I wouldn't know what to feel, but nope, right now at this very moment I am feeling the undeniable pit of anger taking root in my stomach.

"Good morning, " I say in a clipped tone, passing by her and heading to my cupboard to fix myself up a bowl of cereal.

"Good morning, " she says back in the low and tentative way that a child does when they're not sure if they're going to be chastised by their parent or not. It's funny. She technically outranks me.

I turn to look at her and she meets my gaze. The evidence of her time spent away is obvious. Her hair is longer and even with the triplet suns as her backlight it is not as luminous and her eyes don't have that same manic energy that they exuded from longing for the thrill of the chase, searching for adrenaline. In short, Elara Espresion looked tired. But her smile, she smiles at me as if she saw me just yesterday and I have to look away.

I still absolutely hate her. Absolutely. 

The blooming anger in my stomach is still most definitely there. Yes sir, no bright and joyous smile she throws my way will be able to change that. I steel myself into focusing on the task at hand. I pull a bowl and spoon from my kitchen cabinet.

"So how have you been lately?" She continued behind me, "You seem. . .  fine."

I hum noncommittally, it's the least she deserves after quite literally ghosting me for so long.

I pour the milk into the bowl and I can practically feel Elara grimacing behind me, she's always said I was a psychopath for putting milk before cereal but I'm not the one with a kill count well into the triple digits. I open my pantry to get my container of Space Crunch Cereal™,  the one with five hundred million different preservatives and so many added artificial flavorings that it gives the taste of something that cannot possibly be found in nature.

But it is empty. Pantry: empty. Space Crunch Cereal™: missing.

I turn around. And there it is! My cereal container, so innocently placed next to Elara, she takes a crunchy slurp from her breakfast before putting it down next to her and it was in that moment that I knew what she had been eating in that bowl.

I can't believe I actually thought I might be able to forgive her, after everything. The budding anger in my stomach has now sprouted into fully formed white hot rage.

She mistakes my silence for pensive thought.

"So you aren't mad?" She asks tentatively.

"Mad? Mad?? MAD?? You bust into my apartment, eat my entire supply of my FAVORITE cereal and this is after you faked your death for SIX WHOLE MONTHS! OF COURSE I'M MAD!!"

And without really thinking about it, I lunge.

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I remember the first time I met Elara. I was a respected operative working in the field moving through the ranks faster than anyone in the history of the Central Earth Military Intelligence Agency or CEMIA, working in the special operations division of intergalactic affairs.

Of course that caused a number of cold shoulders to be thrown my way, more than enough people thought that the only reason I accelerated so fast within the agency was because I was the former deputy director's grandson.

Name: Polaris North

Known Organization Affiliations: Central Earth Military Intelligence Agency (CEMIA)

Status: Senior Agent

Clearance Level: Diamond

Notable Skills: Proficiently speaks 14 languages with six planetary dialects, poisons specialist, and knife throwing master

It was a dicey time in politics, several of the other Terran Planet Nations were experiencing civil strife and economic downturn, add some government mismanagement to that and you got yourself a perfect recipe for interplanetary corporatized crime.

I was on Estrellita, the capital city of Jupiter's moon Ganymede, looking for some intel on an illegal commerce cartel from the marias of Mars selling everything from artificially synthesized baby dinosaurs that could fit in the palm of your hand to unethically grown pears. 

Scoping the city scene on a busy downtown street, there she was, looking at ancient typewriters in a vintage civilizations antique store. Our eyes caught one another's across the street and I decided to take a break from casing the joint and make some polite conversation with her.

It was either the best thing I've ever done in my life or the worst mistake I've ever made in my entire career. I still don't know.

From then on it was a whirlwind. We talked, we chatted a little bit, she somehow spotted my official CEMIA issued identification badge, I spotted her class three illegal laser firearm, and then she proceeded to clock over the head with the figurine of a green lady dressed in robes wearing a pointy crown and fled.

"Hey! You're gonna have to pay for that!" I called after her.

I guess you could say it was the beginning of an illustrious friendship.

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Present Time: 10 minutes and 5 seconds C. S. R. A. (After Cereal Stolen Realization)

"Polaris? So uh, you're really not mad right?"

____________________________________________________

5 seconds C. S. R. A. (After Cereal Stolen Realization)

Lunging forward, we fell back into our old habits. I was right, her sitting on top of my kitchen counter was a good defense tactic, definitely taking advantage of the high ground.

Name: Elara Espresion

Alias(es): Orion

Known Organization Affiliations: Amazon Cartel, Mercado Market Syndicate, The Manila Mob

Skills: sniper of pin-point accuracy, proficient space freighter pilot, master of arnis fighting sticks

Other Notable Information: Graduated top of her class at Palawan Academy (*cough cough* that's basically an assassin/spy school), highest paid contract mercenary in the galaxy, and she's Elara Espresion, enough said

Needless to say it was a challenging fight. 

I used my broad shoulders to box her in but her agility got the better of me. She easily evaded my punches and strikes as she threw her empty cereal bowl at me.

Crash! Shards of ceramic scattered all over the apartment floor.

"Oh you are so cleaning that up!"

"Okay but tell me first, are you more upset that I let you believe that I was dead for six months? Or is it because I finished all of your precious cereal?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed.

I got a hit on her collarbone but she almost got me right in the Crown Jewels and no, I don't mean the stolen ones that are currently missing from the Tower of London. I rolled away to get to some more open ground. She moved away from the kitchen counter and we circled each other.

After our initial meeting in Estrellita, we just so happen to keep running into each other on missions and assignments. You'd think the spy world consisted of only twelve people with how often it happened.

The second time our paths crossed was when I was investigating the disappearance of the previously mentioned English Crown Jewels. The investigation turned out to be a bust but as I was getting back into my hovercraft, something that suspiciously looked like the Sovereign's Orb was just inconspicuously lying in the driver's seat. I might have been imagining it, but I could have sworn that the vehicle now had the faint scent of that same crazy lady that I had encountered in Estrellita.

"You know, Valaks told me not to hold a burial service for you. She said that the real Elara Espresion wasn't really dead unless there was a body." Kick. Leg swipe. Evade.

"Oh yeah? How's she been?" Punch. Twist. Duck.

"Oh you know," I smirked at her really anticipating to savor this moment, "She got a tattoo." Elara's eyes widened into comical circles. "And… we got matching ones."

She gasped. "Don't tell me you actually let her do that??"

"What can I say? She's 18, an adult and is fully capable of making her own decisions." I shrugged. Trust Elara to be overprotective of her protege that has already taken down several governments. What a mother hen.

This time she lunged at me.

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10 minutes and 10 seconds C. S. R. A. (After Cereal Stolen Realization

I don't think I've ever hated her, and I don't think I ever could. "No, Elara, I'm not mad."