Trapped

Cells are boring and bland, does a TV hurt anyone? A little entertainment besides counting the dotted acoustic ceiling could be good. In fact, Simon Barlow had quite a few suggestions to enhance the stay of prisoners, for starters, maybe a rug. The floor was quite cold when you took off your shoes. Not like I just stepped out of a shower cold but like I just stepped in snow and ran around the house cold. Before she could think of the next suggestion, the door smashed open, “Shoot, this is not the control center,” Duh.

— — —

 Gloria Barlow was the example of a perfect agent. She graduated two years early; Call Sign: Morning Glory. [Glory] had too many kills to count and was an immense contributor to their work. Her sister, however, was quite a letdown; expecting another perfect agent, they instead got a failure. Elias dropped the minuscule amount of files on General Malik’s desk. It looked pathetic next to the massive one that held Glory’s kills and achievements, “Apologies Sir, this was all I could find on Simon,” 

Malik flipped the pages halfheartedly, “At ease Devos, I can’t get any info from this junk; bring in Agent Simon,” 

— — —

Agent Simon was probably not doing what she was supposed to do. She was taking a nap. I mean it wasn’t that big of a deal…right? 

Elias found the agent with her head down, arms supporting her head, taking a nap on a desk. The agent teaching paid no attention to her, and he couldn’t tell if that was because she couldn’t see Simon or just didn’t care. Before he could reach the sleeping girl, a buzzer sent the class into a frenzy. Agents flew out of the room, and when Elias looked again, Simon was gone, “I’m not paid enough for this goose chase,” he grumbled, following the parade of trainees. 

Agent Simon was out the door faster than what seemed humanly possible, but she was in no mood to hang around for a lecture about sleeping in class. The tired girl almost missed the crowd in front of the lockers, which was surprising because of its mass. “What the hell is this?” she mumbled, “Did we make the basketball team?” she joked. 

A girl snapped her head around, “Shut it, Simon; just cause you don’t like it here doesn’t mean everyone else does.” 

Simon’s hand rose in mock surrender, “Chill Anika, what’s got your uniform in a twist?”

The girl’s nose pointed towards the ceiling, and she made a disdainful grunt, “Markiepoo! Simon’s bullying me again,” she sang, jabbing a finger at her. 

A lanky fellow pushed through the crowd, “You’d think she’d learn after last time when I bashed her head in,” 

Simon smiled, “What can I say…I’ve got a hard head,” 

No one chuckled. Gosh, what was with these stone-faced agents, just like her sister. She’d need a laugh track if these humorless people didn’t learn how to laugh. Unlike what people thought, Simon loved her sister, but following those big footsteps seemed impossible. Her sister achieved too much to even live up to. Her first sword was in the agency’s Museum. She had books written about her and all Simon had was a couple of mugshots of herself with black eyes and bloody noses. Cheers to success. Or not. A punch sent Simon spiraling into the lockers, Smack. Gripping the locker shakily, Simon stumbled to her feet. Her hands balled tight, her knuckles raw from numerous fights. Gloria never got into fights, except in sparring. But Simon wasn’t Gloria, far from it. Flesh hit flesh as Simon hit Anika’s henchman. He sputtered back, and a steady flow of blood crested his chin. Massaging his jaw he turned to Simon, “You’re gonna get it,” he snarled

“Go for it,” Simon growled back.

When Elias came around the corner, both fighters had fought themselves bloody. He hauled them both to their feet, “You two should be ashamed of this behavior! Did we recruit wild animals or professionals?” 

“If we were animals it might be bearable,” 

— — —

General Malik Fraser’s office smelled of cheap wine and perfume and was quite dark. The only window was to the far left. If you craned your neck far enough to look like a giraffe and squinted you might be able to make out the blueness of the sky. The rest of the window viewed a wall; not even an interesting wall, just a bland gray. Who thought gray was a pretty color anyway? Simon took the chair that Mailk pointed to. The General glared down at her from his throne, “Miss Simone you-” 

“I’m sorry sir,” Simon corrected, “I prefer Simon, sounds cooler,” she glanced up at his vacant face, “Right, sorry sir,” 

“Miss Simon, we have a few matters to discuss. You are thirteen, correct?” 

“Correct sir,” she clicked her tongue, propping her feet on his desk, “Thirteen and getting older by the minute,” 

He looked at her, "Agent Elias mentioned the mishap in the corridor. Gloria wouldn't have lost. Remember that next time you pick a fight,"

"I'm sorry, next time I'll keep a dagger in my shoe. That’ll show him," 

He sighed, this day was going to be long. Simon Barlow was not listening to anything, everything went over her head. He was ready for a relaxing day with his wife after this conversation was done. “Simon, you have failed expectations. You've bombed every test.”

"I was never very good at defusing them; 

setting them’s a breeze...the bombs that is," she smiled.

 He paused reading down the list on her file, “Call Sign: EC? Extra Credit?” 

“Expect Complications-” 

He glanced up, “Pardon?” 

She shrugged, “My Call Sign: Expect Complications- I mean it was only one time. Not that big of a deal,” 

“What happened only one time?” 

The door swung open, “She got stuck on a piece of gum and couldn't complete the mission, sir,”

There in the doorway, stood Gloria. Her long purple hair cascaded across her ninja suit. “Dramatic entrance, Gloria,” Simon smirked.

Gloria flushed a bright pink and took a seat. General Malik stood, "Miss Simon, this is the last straw,"

“Cool, I’ll pack and leave then, adios-” Her sentence was cut off as the door slammed open. 

“I’m afraid you can’t leave.”

Guards materialized at her side, each grabbing her arm and hauling her away. "Gloria!" Simon howled, clawing at the guards, "Gloria, help me!" She was scared but wouldn’t admit that to her sister. Being scared was a weakness. She’d have to be strong to keep up with her sister. 

— — —

Simon paced the cell and pounded on the walls. She had never tried to achieve anything because Gloria would always be better than her. Her parents had seen their perfect angel rise and their “footnote” daughter remain at the bottom. She could remember every word thrown at her, "Why don't you try harder?! Gloria is the best thing that has ever happened to us. Why can't you rise up!" 

For parents who'd never thrown a knife, they had great aim with their words. It was their fault she was trapped in some prison under the agency. They forced her into this. 

— — —

The door slammed open and a pair of silver ninjas tumbled in, “Shoot, this is not the control center,” 

Simon spun around, “Right you are, underwear men,” 

The ninjas visibly jumped, “Excuse me, these are catsuits.” 

She hummed, unconcerned about the armed ninjas next to her, “I mean that kinda seems like animal abuse, did you murder a cat and are now wearing its skin, or are you just cats in disguise? Also suits? Like, are you going to a party?” 

To say they were perplexed was an understatement, “Ha,” the one on the left smiled, “You shut him up! I’m keeping ya.” 

Simon paced, “I’d love to go with you, truly but I’m not sure if you’re, you know, ‘evil’ or something,” she made air quotes, “I just need you to pull out a lightsaber, if it’s red I won’t go with you,” 

The three marched out the door, “No weapon for me?” 

Gerald and Funny shook their heads. Simon had no clue what the ninjas’ real names were but the gruff one was boring and knew nothing about pop culture. Besides, Gerald seemed like a boring name. Funny was well…funny? “Umm. yeah, no weapons, sorry, kid,” 

Simon smiled, “That’s fine, I took your gun already,” 

“Shoot.” 

— — —

Simon wanted a happy ending, but life was not a fairy tale, not even close. She had broken more rules to count but never a major one like conspiring with the enemy. The one problem was she couldn’t tell who was the enemy, Gloria or Gerald, and Funny. Could it be possible that neither group was good? “Yo kid?” Funny waved a hand, “Kid? You there?” 

“Hmmm…yeah!” 

“Are you sure about this kid? You can back out, we’ll let you go,” 

Was that what she wanted? An easy escape? Simon had lived her life taking the easy way out; the back way. Never trying because she was afraid of never living up to Gloria. The Ninjas seemed nice. Ok, Niceness is not a good enough factor to go with them, get it together Simon! There seemed to be a fine line between her agency and the Ninjas. Her agency sold info to the highest bidder. The Ninjas only reported to the government. If she joined, would they welcome her with open arms; singing Kumbaya? Or would she be charged and locked away for eternity? The cell was looking more and more welcoming, her only decision there would be… never mind there weren't any decisions to be made in the cell. Simon wanted eternity to think, they expected an answer and she didn’t have one. Was she strong enough to fight herself? Was she strong enough to go against the one person she loved? Strong enough to let her home crumble beneath her feet? Yes. “I’m in, I’m ready to try,” 

Funny laughed, “Don’t you know, kid? There is no try.”

— — —

They bashed through the door of the control center. Flying through the air in poses like a Marvel comic character. Simon may or may not have smashed into the table, and a thumbs up appeared from the ground, “Doing great, thanks!” 

To say Simon fought well, was an exaggeration. She was, quite possibly, the worst fighter; causing more harm to herself than others.

 “Ok,” Funny announced, standing on a countertop, “We’re giving you to the count of 2 to move your smart butts off the premises before we blast this to la-la land,” 

“Yeah, hit the road,” Simon sang to the technicians “Jack and don’t you come back no more,” 

“I’m not Jack.” 

“Sucks to be you, ‘Not Jack.’” 

— — —

There were at least three dozen ninjas outside the base, all of their 8.82-inch pistols raised to meet Simon. 

“Hey what’s this?” Funny yelled

“Agent Moore, step away from the enemy,” a gunman shouted. 

Funny lay a comforting hand on Simon’s shoulder, “I’m sorry kid,” and backed away. 

Definitely, not Kumbaya.

 “Take me to your leader,” Simon held out her wrists.