Lies, Spies and Apple Pies - Part 1

John lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his mind looping through the argument with Laz like a movie that won’t stop playing. His words rang in his head, frustrating him.

You should’ve killed him.

Was Laz right? Was he soft? Or had he just followed his own sense of what’s right? The satellite should’ve been destroyed the second they secured the codes. He sat up, the weight of the day pressing on his chest. His body was sore, but it wasn’t the fight that had drained him. It was the questions in his mind. His brother. His mission. The thin, ever-blurring line between right and wrong.

All he cared about was setting up a relay for the codes to blow up the satellite. He moved to the bathroom, flicked on the light. It buzzed overhead, illuminating the narrow space. The shower curtain was already drawn.

“Hello?” he called out.

No answer.

A strange chill crawled up his spine. He paused, then shook his head. Probably just nerves. He reached for the door, stepped in, and locked it behind him.

The second he turned around to the mirror, arms yanked him back, slamming him into the wall. A forearm locked tight around his throat.

“What the–Mango?!”

She wasn’t listening. She had him pinned in a chokehold. She pulled her knife out, pressing dangerously close to his eye.

“You lying piece of shit,” she hissed, voice trembling with fury.

John choked, clawing at her arm. “W-what are you talking about?”

“I heard you,” she said. “You and Laz, talking. You’re CIA!?”

Shit.

He’d thought she was out of earshot. Clearly, not. This is bad. Really bad. In situations like this, the first two minutes are the most important. If she had been mad enough to kill him, she would've done it already. Which means she wants something, or she’s conflicted.

“I was going to tell you–”

“Shut up,” she snapped. “I don’t want to hear one more lie come out of that mouth!”

John could see her reflection in the mirror behind her. Her green eyes were glaring. Her face flushed. Her hair was a mess. The knife in her trembling hand was inches from making his whole world dark.

“I can’t believe you did this to me,” she said. “You were supposed to be different!”

“I can explain!” he said.

“I thought you liked me. I thought—God, I thought we were in love. But I guess it was all a lie!”

“We are,” John said quickly. “I lied about the CIA. That’s true. But everything else, me and you! That was real! I swear.”

“You’re a liar. I can’t believe I told you my real name. And the whole time, you were on assignment? Just another floozie for a spy to indulge in, huh? I can’t believe I was so naïve!”

“No, that’s not it!”

“Then what is it, John?” she said, her eyes narrowing. Her stare was ice cold. “What else haven’t you told me? Who’s Laz really? He your drinking buddy from college?”

John sighed. “He’s a field agent too. We were assigned together. Or rather, I was assigned to identify someone for him and then go back home.”

Mango gave a short laugh. “So you lied. It’s all lies.”

Mango’s eyes became watery, and she scrunched her nose.

“I should’ve killed you back when I had the chance,” she said, voice low. “You know, I could have had everything back on the boat! I should've followed my instincts. I had the ring. I had the launch codes. I was this close to being rich beyond belief. I could’ve escaped, but I didn’t.”

She paused. Then her breathing started to pick up again and become faster.

“… for you.”

“I’m not like that,” John said. “I swear I’m not using you.”

“Then what are you doing?” she said, now rubbing the knife up and down on his cheek. “Was that really your brother? Did you even know him? Was that device really from your sister?”

“Yes,” John said, firm this time. “My name is John Nero. That was my brother, Peter Nero. You already knew that.”

“Don’t tell me what I know, just talk fast.”

“I left when I was sixteen. I wanted out, but I needed protection, so I joined the CIA. I sit behind a desk! I’m an economic analyst. That’s what I do. I crunch numbers to catch bad guys.”

“An economic analyst? Do you take me for an idiot? No economic analyst moves like you do.”

“It’s true,” John said calmly. “I recently became an agent. The time you found me on the train? All I was supposed to do was point out Bailiff. But you blew our cover, and… well, everything spiraled out of control after that.”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up,” Mango snapped. “Stop talking. I need to get out of here right now, and neither you nor Laz is going to stop me.”

“Mango, please. Michelle, please, just listen to me…”

“Don’t you call me that!” she screamed. “I don’t ever want to hear you utter that name again. My name is Mango… and you almost fucking got me.”

She shoved him in front of her with the knife pressed in his back.

“Now I’m getting the fuck out of here, and you’re coming with me. As a hostage. Just in case your little buddy tries anything stupid.”

“Wait, I—”

The blade pressed against his throat.

“I said, move.”

John exhaled slowly, hands raised. “Fine…”

He didn’t know what else to say. She was right. He had lied to her. Yes, it had been part of his mission, but he’d never meant to hurt her. He’d planned to come clean after they turned in the codes, after the dust settled. He thought maybe he could let her down easy.

Now, the best thing he could do was cooperate. He loved her, that much was true, but he’d messed everything up.

And, well… she had a knife. In anyone else’s hands, he wouldn’t care as much.

<<<>>>

[FOCUS: Activating… Talent: Underworld Legacy…]

<<<>>>

No, he thought. Don’t activate!

<<<>>>

[Calculating escape probability… Extremely low.]

<<<>>>

Even the FOCUS was telling him not to fight.

So they walked out of the bathroom, step by step.

“Laz!” Mango called out. “If that’s your real name!”

The house was quiet.

“What’s his real name?” She snapped at John.

“He’s Agent Hawk,” John replied. “I don’t know if ‘Laz’ is even real.”

“And you?”

“Agent Raven.”

“Couple of stool pigeons, huh? Laz!” Mango shouted again.

SCREEECH!

Suddenly, they heard the sound of tires burning rubber. A van peeled out from behind the cabin.

They rushed to the window, and disappearing into the woods was Laz, behind the wheel of a van, kicking up gravel in his wake.

“What the fuck?!” John shouted. “He has the codes! If he gets back to the CIA with them, a lot of people are going to die!”

“What do I care?” Mango said. “You’re CIA too, aren’t you?”

“I wanted the satellite destroyed,” John said, already climbing out the window. “And he knows you're a thief and an assassin.”

He landed on the ground and ran toward the motorcycles. “If you don’t want him suggesting they come after you next and make a giant file on you, then help me!”

Mango sucked her teeth. She knew he was right. She’d be a loose end, a thief with government secrets of a mission that the American government is about to bury under as much paperwork as they can. The kind of liability the CIA didn't keep around.

“Damn you,” she cursed under her breath.

Then, she threw herself out the window and leapt onto the back of the motorcycle behind John.

“When this is over,” she growled, “I will kill you. For real this time.”

“I’ve heard that before,” John said dryly, kicking the ignition.

The engine revved, and they took off into the woods, chasing the van down the dark forest.

The van tore down the dirt road, its tires kicking up a storm of dust and gravel. It had to be pushing 70 miles an hour, bouncing along the uneven path like it had no regard for suspension.

John, gripping the handlebars of the motorcycle, was fast. More nimble. He didn't have to fight a steering wheel; he carved through the dirt like easily avoiding the roots.

They closed the distance fast.

As they came up behind the van, John reached out and began slamming his fist against the rear door. “Laz, you son of a bitch!” he shouted. “Where do you think you’re going?!”

Laz’s head popped out of the driver’s window. The wind whipped at his hair, and he threw up a middle finger.

“See you around, kid,” Laz called. “I’m finishing the mission. And I’m not letting either of you stand in my way!”

Then he jerked hard on the steering wheel, throwing it left. The van veered off the dirt road, crashing down a steep incline toward the tree line. Branches snapped against the windshield, leaves scattered everywhere, and in an instant, the forest swallowed the vehicle.

John skidded the motorcycle sideways and revved it hard.

The bike jolted and bounced onto the clearing the van was making. As they tore down the hill, tree limbs slapped at their faces and arms, the entire forest floor exploding in a rush of dust and debris. Mango ducked her head behind John’s back, yelling, “I swear, if any of this gets in my hair!”

“It’ll add character!” John shouted back.

He couldn’t get too close because the van was throwing up too much dust, and without helmets, it was like riding through a sandstorm.

Then suddenly, just ahead, the van burst through the last line of trees and launched off a small ridge. For a moment, it was totally airborne. The entire thing flew through the air, crashed down onto a city road below, bounced twice, then roared forward as Laz slammed the gas pedal. Cars honked at him, and their drivers poked their heads out the window, yelling Italian slurs.

“Hang on!” John yelled.

Mango gripped him tighter.

He gunned the throttle, leaned back, and launched the motorcycle through the air after the van. They both floated for a moment before they came down on the street hard and instantly lost traction.

The bike skidded hard to the left, tires squealing, smoke curling from the road. John fought the handlebars with every ounce of control he had and tried to lean to skid.

WHAM!

The motorcycle smashed sideways into a parked car, denting it and shattering a window. Their heads whipped to the side. Some guy yelled at them in Italian on the sidewalk.

“What the hell?” Mango groaned, holding her side. “You seriously can’t drive better than that?!”

“You wanna drive? I’m open to switching!” John yelled back, already firing up the throttle again.

“Just don’t lose him,” she snapped. “Now move! If the CIA gets a file on me, I’ll never be able to slip through under the radar again! I’ve got enough people on my back without adding the feds!”

John hit the gas. He had to reach Laz before he got to the CIA hangar in Rome.