Chapter 1

"Agent Pat, Agent Pat, do you read me?" The voice of Agent Cole buzzed in her ear. She couldn't help but roll her eyes, but as a junior agent, she has to respect him. John practically begged her to put up with Cole.

Chewing on her gum, she blew a bubble and lets it pop before replying, "Yes, sir. Loud and clear." She loaded bullets into her revolver and waited for his next command.

"Get out of there, find somewhere to hide until the backup team arrives. The place is heavily guarded. Get out of there, Agent Pat," he ordered. She knew she couldn't just sit tight and wait for backup when innocent lives are at risk.

"What if they get killed?" she challenged him.

"Obey my command, Agent Pat," he barked. She can't resist rolling her eyes again - Cole hated it when she disobeys him, but she loves pushing his buttons.

"Okay," she said, deciding to humor him for now.

"Good," he responded before falling silent.

Patricia muted the earpiece, wanting to focus on the task at hand. She dropped her duffel bag on the ground and unzipped it, revealing her trusty machine gun. She set it on a nearby rock and takes aim at four guards patrolling in front of the warehouse.

She took them out with precision, one by one. As more guards approach, she strapped her dagger to her leg and stashed throwing knives in her boots. She grabbed two handguns and a few grenades from her waist bag before dropping the machine gun and assault rifle under a green grass carpet to keep them hidden.

With two silencers in hand, she made her way to the warehouse, eager for what's next.

As soon as Pat stepped into the building, she was met with an army of guards. She estimated there were about sixty of them, and so far, she had taken out twenty-two. They were clearly not well-trained, and it was a miracle they had even made it this far.

Pat switched on her comms, and Agent Cole's voice immediately blared in her ear, causing her a headache. "What the fuck are you thinking, Pat? Do you want to get killed? Why did you shoot those men? Why can't you calm down and wait for backup? Why--"

Pat had enough of the wh-questions and interrupted her calmly. "I just want to say, I'm inside the building. Tell the backup agents to arrive quickly," she instructed, not caring if Cole was her senior or not.

"Who do you--" Pat muted the earpiece again. Cole talked way too much. He should have gone for a career in mass communication rather than becoming an agent.

Pat took a deep breath, holding her guns firmly as she stepped out. The guards immediately spotted her and came rushing at her. Thankfully, they were not wearing bulletproof jackets. Pat began firing bullets at them, and they fired back at her, but thanks to the bulletproof jacket and helmet he wore, the impact of the bullets was painful, but not life-threatening. Several gunshots echoed through the air, sounding like music to Pat.

She felt a bullet scrape her arm a little bit, but it was nothing compared to the training she received on the first day. At that moment, she felt like he was dying, but she knew it was just her body's natural reaction to the situation.

Her mind took her back in time to a nine-year-old Patricia who was not ready for the training the man had in store for her. With two buckets of water in her hand, she looked like she was about to set up a beach resort.

“What am I expected to do with this?” she asked, confused and frustrated. She thought they were going to a gym, not to the beach to fetch water.

The man who saved her from the clutches of death was wearing a khaki shorts and a top, with a well-brimmed hat to protect him from the sun. “Run with it,” he said, explaining that the training was about speed, endurance, tolerance, and most importantly, strength.

Patricia was not convinced. “Is this some kind of joke to you?” she sneered, wondering why she had to carry water instead of learning how to fight.

The man chuckled, “You lack patience. As an agent, you should have that, unless you will take drastic decisions in haste and later regret them.” he advised her to take things one step at a time, with practice and determination.

“I want to learn how to fight,” she insisted, not listening to the man's advice.

“Okay then, let's fight,” he said, and she was over the moon.

She lunged at him, but before she could even get close, she found herself on the ground. The man had sidestepped her and stuck out his feet, causing her to trip.

She got up and tried again, but she fell again. She swung at him, but he dodged easily. Finally, he caught her fists in his hands and twisted them, causing her to scream in pain.

“Your body is weak, your mind is weak, everything about you is weak,” he whispered in her ear. “Take it slow so that your body and brain can adapt to it.”

Patricia cried out in pain, but she knew the man was right. She had been too eager to learn how to fight and had neglected the importance of patience and practice.

As she lifted the heavy bucket of water, Patricia remembered the man's words about taking things slow. She walked slowly and steadily, determined to carry the buckets as far as possible. Her hands hurt from holding the metal handles, and she was tired, but she refused to give up.

The man watched her, impressed by her determination. He knew that she was going to be a great agent, and he smiled to himself.

A loud gunshot brought Patricia back to the present.

The guards fell down dead, some injured all thanks to Patricia's skilled hand-to-hand combat. She was about to make her way to the cell where they kept the people, until someone grabbed her arm and she instinctively punched them.

“Ow! Really Pat?” Agent Cole grumbled, rubbing his sore cheek. Instead of apologizing, Patricia barked orders at him and the rest of the agents that were behind him. “Go to the room to the left, they kept the people there while I go after the boss.”

“Who is the leader here? Not you, I'm the leader, so don't go around barking orders to us like we are beneath you,” Agent Cole retorted. Patricia rolled her eyes at his statement and bit her cheek, trying not to outburst. She ignored him and turned to Sir Richard. “Agent Richie, please lead the other agents to the room and save the victims.” He nodded his head, urging the rest to follow him.

Some followed, some stayed, perhaps intimidated by Agent Cole's ego. “Thank you,” Patricia muttered, grateful that Sir Richard did not object to leading the other agents.

Slowly, she turned to Agent Cole, who was fuming with anger. “You are not going anywhere, we either go together or you stay,” he demanded with finality. Patricia couldn't care less about his demand and laughed, bending down to touch her knees.

“I'm sorry you can't go with me, I don't have the time to be taking care of someone while chasing after the boss.” “I'm not a liability! I am a well-trained agent, your leader, so you better respect me!” Agent Cole yelled, pointing his index finger at her.

Patricia let out a chuckle. “I do respect you because you're the leader of the group, but lives are in danger, and I can't let your immature brain rule. Since you said you are not a liability, I'm going to make you.” Before Agent Cole could react, Patricia shot him in the leg, making him wail in pain.

“Why did you shoot me?” he screamed, wincing in pain. Patricia shrugged. “You deserve it. I've put up with your crap way too much. Now you are a liability. Take care of your wound, see you soon, adios,” she said, waving at him before walking to the right side of the facility.

Sighting a door at the other end of the place, she made her way to it. As she kicked the door open, someone grabbed her arm, taking her by surprise. The gun in her hand fell down, and she felt something cold pressed to her neck. “You are going to tell your fellow agents to back off, unless you won't see the daylight again,” the man threatened in a menacing tone.

Patricia wasn't afraid and let out a sarcastic laugh. “I'm shaking. F**k off,” she spat. The man chuckled. “Do you f**king think I'm joking?” he asked, pressing the knife harder to her neck, drawing blood. He leaned closer and whispered, “I'm going to slice your neck right now if you don't do what I ask of you.”

“Death doesn't scare me. Do your worst,” Patricia swung her other arm back, and her elbow went into the man's stomach.

He loosened his grip on her, and she turned around, kicking him backward in the chest. He wasted no time in getting back to his feet and coming at her.

He flung the knife at her, but she was lucky enough to dodge it. He swung his fist at her and nailed her in the side of the head. He was a good fighter, but Patricia was better than him.

She fell back against the wall, narrowly avoiding the goon's fist as it connected with the hard surface. She quickly regained her balance and tripped him, causing him to fall to the ground. He grabbed her ankle, attempting to pull her down with him, but she rolled to the side and grabbed his arm, pinning it behind his back.

With her knee on the back of his neck, he struggled to free himself and managed to grab hold of her arm, dragging her down. She quickly kicked him in the groin before slamming his head into the floor and straddling him.

She pulled out her handgun and shoot him twice in the legs, causing him to cry out in pain. "I wish I could kill you," she said, "but I want you to experience being locked up."

"F**k you," he cursed, and she kicked him in the groin again, relishing in his agony.

She switched on her comms, instructing HQ to send backup to retrieve the goon and gather any valuable information. A team of agents arrived to take him away, leaving her alone in the lavish office littered with bodies.

Agent Richie, her superior, entered the room and commended her on a job well done. She nodded, staring at the carnage around her. "This is one hell of a mess," she muttered.

"The organization will send a cleanup crew. It's not our problem," Agent Richie said, reassuringly.

Relieved, she began to walk away, but Agent Richie informed her that Agent John wants to see her. She groaned inwardly, knowing that this can only mean trouble.