Teen Spy

You check the time. Perfect.

As intended, you’ve arrived fashionably late.

You slide your hand smoothly behind your back and reach under your bullet-proof jacket to grasp the handle of your laser gun, feeling the cold hardness beneath your fingers.

“May I take your jacket Milady?” An unassuming waiter steps forward and you tense, but force yourself to smile and remove your hand from beneath your jacket.

“That won’t be necessary.” You stop and look at the waiter’s name badge. “Hector. You see it’s rather chilly tonight, don’t you agree?” You smile winningly.

Hector bends respectfully at the waist, and walks stiffly away.

You check the time again and curse silently when you see that your ‘fashionable lateness’ may have changed to ‘mission could be compromised if you don’t get your butt down there lateness’.

Oh dear.

You sigh and begin descending from the top of the intricate marble staircase, lifting your heavy skirts in an attempt not to trip.

After all, if you tripped down these lethal stairs and died, or were grievously injured–

who would complete the mission?

As you make your way gracefully towards the front of the room, people to each side of you bow respectfully as you pass and a few murmur polite greetings.

You hold your head high, remaining in character, and eventually you find yourself in front of the throne.

You take a minute to just admire the magnificence and authority of the throne, and ignore the Prince hung lazily over the arms, squinting arrogantly at you.

The self-assured brat was about to learn what happened when people messed with you – Ariana Blackthorn, the one and only teenage spy.

You giggle quietly to yourself before walking boldly up to the Prince.

“Your highness.” You bow demurely, looking up at him from beneath your lashes.

The Prince sits up, and grins like a hyena.

“Good evening Princess Blackthorn. It seems you are late to my little party.” He raises his eyebrows questioningly at you, and you let a slow smile spread across your face.

“I’m honoured that his Majesty noticed my absence.” You smooth your dress under the pretence of flirting with the Prince, and check your laser gun is still in place.

It is. Good.

“Would you, My Lady, do me the honour of dancing with me?” The Prince smiles smarmily at you, and internally, you cringe.

“There would be no greater honour, your Highness.” You curtsy and let him lead you over to the centre of the ballroom.

He yanks you impatiently past all of the watching eyes, and puts his hands on you.

You shiver in disgust, and he takes it for desire and grins predatorially.

You begin dancing with ease in time with the other couples around you.

And the game begins.

Ten minutes later:

“How are you enjoying your little party son?” King Alexander stops in front of his son, who has once again draped himself across the throne.

“I wish there were more beautiful women in court. There’s only Princess Blackthorn, and she didn’t stay for more than ten minutes.” The Prince pouts childishly.

The King looks questioningly at his son.

“Princess Blackthorn?”

“Oh yes, Princess Blackthorn turned up yesterday. She’s the King of Russia’s daughter, and she said she ‘just simply had to meet such a handsome Prince.” He smirks conceitedly and flexes his muscles.

He doesn’t notice that when the King hears this, he suddenly goes incredibly still.

“Son?” He paused. “The King of Russia doesn’t have a daughter.”

The Prince stares at him, confused.

“In fact, he doesn’t have a son either.”

The Prince’s confusion turns to anger, and he scowls ferociously.

“Why that little –“

“Where’s your crown, son?” The King spoke slowly, quietly.

The Prince fumbles for his crown and his hands come away empty.

They look at each other in horror before the prince wailed:

“MY CROWN!”

And the King bellowed:

“THE CROWN OF JONATHON HAS BEEN STOLEN! RETRIEVE THAT CROWN BEFORE SHE LEAVES THE GROUNDS, OR IT WILL BE THE LAST THING YOU DO!”

From the palace gates, you hear the prince’s wail, and smile smugly before stripping away your dress to reveal a slinky black miniskirt and lacy crop top.

You deposit the heaps of stifling fabric on the gritty tarmac behind a rosebush, and hitch your bag further up your shoulder.

It was surprisingly easy to dupe the Prince into thinking you were some sort of foreign Princess -

and even easier to steal his crown without him noticing a thing.

Now for the fun part.

You hadn’t even had to laser anybody; you think in disbelief.

Just then, two dark clad figures step out from the shadows.

“Uh oh. Jinxed it.” You murmur, and smile deviously at the two figures.

They walk tentatively towards you, as if scared you might bolt.

To them, she was just a scared teenager, trespassing on Royal grounds.

That’s what made it so fun…

You stay completely still and watch them approach, energy fizzling through your veins.

The men exchange a look, and both suddenly lunge at you at the same time.

Time seems to slow down, and you smile to yourself.

One roundhouse kick, one flip, and one twist later, and you are stood with one foot on top of each groaning man.

“I win.” You say sweetly them, with a laser gun aimed at each of their heads. “And I wasn’t even really playing.”

Silently, you pick up two rocks and swap them for your feet on the men’s backs.

“As you aren’t putting up a fight, I will refrain from eliminating you, but don’t push your luck.” She warned.

With a last cunning look at the two of them, you climb silently over the gate, and disappear into the darkness.

A moment later, the two guards hear a giggle from the other side of the gate, remove the rocks and growl, realising - they’d been fooled once again. By little more than a child.

Two days later:

You walk up to the big white doors and press your  dirty hand to the door for a fingerprint recognition scan.

Beep!

The doors open smoothly, and an automated voice welcomes you into the building.

But you ignore it, like you ignore it every other time you walk through these doors. It is like background noise.

You walk confidently up to the desk, and smile warmly at the receptionist.

“Kimberly, Hi! I was just wondering where I would be able to find Agent Wood?” You bounce eagerly on the balls of your feet, and trail your hands along the polished wood of the reception desk.

“Ariana! You’re back already? That was quick! What mission did they give you this time? How did it go?” Kimberly chattered cheerfully.

“Yep - all done. I’m in a bit of a rush though Kim, so could I come tell you about it later? I’ve got to get my report in before the conference.” You smile apologetically at Kimberly, and are relieved to see her return the smile.

“Of course! Of course – Agent Wood’s in his office.”

You head straight for the door, shouting a thanks over your shoulder, and knock smartly. It’s good to be home, you think contentedly.

“Yes?”

You push open the door and this one, like all of the other doors at the Agency, opens silently

You feel anticipation coursing through your blood.

“Agent Wood?” You take a deep breath. “I completed my mission. I have the crown.”

His head snaps up to look at you, his eyes shocked, and you walk forward to place the crown proudly on his desk.

He reaches forward, and grazes the jewels with the ends of his fingertips, speechless.

“The lost crown of King Jonathon the second has been returned to us at last… Queen Margaret will be overjoyed.”

He looked proudly at her.

“I knew I was right to choose you for this mission Ariana. You have done me and the rest of your country proud.”

You flush in pride and smile back at Agent Wood.

Mission complete.

“So? What’s next?” You flip your hair back, as if to say, ‘I’m ready for anything’.

Agent Wood smiles wryly at you before removing a stack of papers from a locked cabinet.

“Your next mission…” He looks up at you, his eyes twinkling.

“Now this is an interesting one…”