NAME: [REDACTED]

CODENAME: SORROW

STATUS: ACTIVE, OFF DUTY, BORED

LOCATION: MONSTER’S LOUNGE, DEPARTMENT Y HQ, LONDON

Sorrow stopped polishing the boot, put it down, and looked around the room. The Monster’s Lounge was exactly what she loved about the Department. It was everything, all at once, and none of it matched.

The room was dark, not because it wasn’t lit, but because every fabric and surface in the place seemed to absorb light. It was all dark wood, faded green and maroon leather and heavy brocade. The wallpaper patterns had probably once been considered vibrant and avant garde but now just seemed overwrought and muddy. Not that you could really see the wallpaper between the framed photographs that hung on every bit of wall that wasn’t obscured by shelving, wall hangings and weapons that she hoped were ceremonial.

The furniture was heavy and old, but not like the furniture she’d grown up with. That was heavy and old because light and modern didn’t survive long in a house full of children. This was heavy and old like the furniture she’d seen on school trips to National Trust Properties. The kind of heavy and old that exists because when the landed gentry buy a sofa they expect it to still be good when their grandchildren are trying to cop a feel on it.

The floor was covered with oriental rugs that looked both expensive and threadbare. You could think that they were just cheap crap if you didn’t actually look at them. If you did look at them it could make you scared to walk on them with your boots on because there was a room full of rugs just like them in the Victoria and Albert.

Those bits of the floor not taken up with rugs, furniture, or piles of florid lounging cushions, were occupied by huge porcelain plant pots. Sorrow didn’t know much about plants but she knew enough to know that these weren’t your average pot plants. Or even your average “pot” plants. They were huge and aggressively colourful and most of them seemed about 2 days away from climbing out of their containers and rampaging through the building.

Sorrow returned her attention to the boots in front of her. She was half way through a spit shine and she didn’t like to leave the job half done, though, if she were honest, the urge to polish every boot in the building was beginning to fade. She was beginning to feel like curling up with a good book would be a better use of her frantic boredom.

The woman sitting across from her, the woman who owned the boots, went by Cutty but that couldn't possibly be her real name. She was short and fat and looked like a goth beach ball with the face of the wicked witch of the west only without the green make-up. She had her be-socked feet up on the footstool next to the huge boots that Sorrow was polishing.

The other woman nodded her head in time to the jangling folk rock that floated from hidden speakers as she crocheted in silence. Her hands were so quick it was like watching someone 3d print a hat with their fingers. She paused, totally still for a moment as the music stopped then restarted, now bobbing in time to the screaming guitars.

There was a theatrical rustling of paper from the darkest corner of the room.

In that corner sat Jude, a blonde man in a white suit, mostly hidden behind a huge newspaper. It wasn’t a recent newspaper. The front page was a dense wall of text with no headline or photographs. Sorrow recognised the masthead of the Times but she couldn’t tell if the paper was thirty years old, or a hundred, or what.

Jude rustled the paper even more dramatically than before, then flicked the very top down so he could talk over it and said, 'Right. That’s enough. This place sounds like the bloody seventies again. All winsome lasses singing creepy pseudo folk and skinny boys in tight trousers wailing over guitar solos.'

'Fuck off,' said Sorrow. 'I know you like Florence and the Machine.'

'Skinny boys wailing?' said the fat woman. 'I think Muse have been around long enough to count as men. You’ve got me on the tight trousers though.'

'I like a bit of Florence as much as the next man, but two hours is more than enough. Don’t you two have work to do? And what are you even doing in here Cutty? You’re not a monster,' Jude paused, looking unsure of himself for about half a second. 'Are you? Did I miss a meeting?'

'I’m here because Sorrow is bored,' said Cutty.

'And I’m bored because I don’t have anything to do,' said Sorrow.

'Can’t you entertain yourself without help from the Archive?' said Jude.

'Are you sure you want me out and about and looking for trouble unsupervised?' said Sorrow.

Cutty attempted to stifle a giggle and only succeeded in turning it into a weird snorted snigger.

'What are you up to anyway?' Jude folded the huge newspaper up so that he could see. 'Are you polishing her boots? But you’re a…'

'I’m a soldier,' said Sorrow, cutting him off before he could dig himself into a hole. 'A bored soldier. And when I’m bored I polish my boots. But mine are done, and so are yours and Alex’s. I’ve already done every boot and shoe in the Monster’s lounge.'

Jude looked down at his own black and white spectator shoes. They had a spit shine on them that you could use to signal rescue aircraft. 'How did you do that?'

'You were asleep,' said Cutty, 'It was hilarious. Maybe you shouldn’t hit the canteen quite so hard at lunch time? I could practically hear the snoring from my office.'

'Why Cutty’s boots?' said Jude.

'Because she’s got big feet.' Proportionately at least. Cutty was a full six inches shorter than Sorrow but they both wore size nine boots. 'And she wears goth boots. They take ages.' Sorrow brandished the boot she was cleaning so that Jude could see not only the sheer amount of leather but also the stainless steel plates that she’d been polishing with armour wax.

'Surely you have something better to do with your time, Cutty?' said Jude.

'Probably, but I don’t want to do it barefoot. And I’m not doing nothing. I am making a hat for Sorrow to say thanks for polishing my boots because I don’t want to owe her a favour but I’m also developing my professional skills by trying to pre-remember the details of that paper you’ve been reading since you came round from your post noon coma. If I’m doing this right then that’s from a slightly alternative October the 5th 1926. The one where archaeologists dug up a huge metal cylinder from Horsell Common that had apparently been buried for 30 years but no-one knew where it came from. How am I doing?'

Sorrow knew Jude well enough to spot that he was trying to conceal how impressed he was. It wasn’t that he disliked Cutty, or thought her unworthy; it was just that everybody expected him to know what everyone was capable of and he hated to disappoint people.

'That’s exactly what I was reading,' said Jude. 'You’re sure it’s an alternative 1926 and not a secret one?'

'What’s my job title again?' said Cutty. 'It’s literally my job to know the difference.'

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

'That’s a relief. I was worried that we’d been covering up Martians for over a century and I’d somehow missed it,' Jude sounded more disappointed than relieved.

'If we were covering up Martians you’d be the first to know,' said Sorrow. 'It would probably be you.'

'Covering it up?' said Jude.

'Being the Martian,' said Cutty.

'Better a Martian than a harridan,' said Jude.

'You don’t know that,' said Cutty. 'You’ve never been either. You’ve got no basis for comparison.'

'Science!' said Sorrow.

'I think it’s more like philosophy, or maybe logic, I’m not sure. I need to get me one of them fancy classical educations like the one that Jude is currently not making use of,' said Cutty.

'We should both get one,' said Sorrow, 'I’ve always wanted to know a bunch of useless stuff based on an inaccurate understanding of the ancient world.'

'You are never going to let me forget about that cricket playing cavemen thing, are you?' said Jude.

'How could you not know that Piltdown man was a fake?' said Sorrow.

'Comics,' said Cutty.

'What?' said Jude.

'I was talking to Sorrow,' said Cutty. 'Read more comics. That’s how you fake a classical education. That’s how I do it anyway.'

'I’m beginning to see why you don’t get on with Alex,' said Jude.

'No-one gets on with Alex. It’s literally just you,' said Sorrow.

Jude’s jacket pocket chirped. He fished out his phone and read the screen. 'Got to go. Summoned by the big boss,' he said.

As he spoke Sorrow felt her phone buzz the pocket of her tactical vest. She pulled it out and read, Urgent briefing. My office. Come immediately. The message had come from Cepha, the operational head of the entire Department.

'Me too,' said Sorrow and looked up to see Cutty clutching at her chest and looking surprised.

Cutty reached into her blouse to find her own chirping phone. 'And me, apparently, for some reason.'

'What the hell does Cepha want with two Monsters and a Historian?' said Jude.

#

Cepha’s office didn’t really look like an office. Maybe it had once, back when she’d first moved in but she’d had a lot of time to make it her own. Now it had the furniture of a 19th Century gentleman’s club, the decor of an 18th century lady’s boudoir and the contemplative calm of a 14th century chapel. In the middle of the room was a desk the size of a small 4 poster bed. It was carved of Spanish mahogany which, since it hadn’t seen the light of day in over a hundred years, was still the rich blood red it had been when it was new. It faced a massive screen on the wall where a normal person would have had windows.

The desk was strewn with objects beyond the cutting edge of technology. It was all shiny touch-screens, holograms and gesture control. The desk might be old but it was decked out like the bridge of a starship.

'Thank you for all hurrying over. Cutty, sit down and put your feet up. You’re going to be here for a while.' Cepha gestured to an unoccupied leather armchair next to the one that was hosting Agent Gideon, the head of Field Section. He was slumped in the seat looking unhappy about being there.

'What’s the job, Ma’am?' said Sorrow, hoping that Cepha couldn’t tell how impatient she was for a remedy for her boredom.

'You two are going to love this,' said Cepha. 'Are you both aware of the Blanks?'

'I’ve heard of them,' said Sorrow. She'd heard a lot about the Blanks but almost all of it had the feel of rumour and disinformation.

'Assassins, seducers, con artists and thieves. The worst kept secret in the intelligence community,' said Jude.

'They’re under attack. There’s a suggestion that it might be supernatural. Their Boss has called me in for a consultation. She’s almost certainly going to want me to assign bodyguards to shadow the only two Blanks currently in operational condition. Time is short so I want you two up to speed before I have to officially assign you. Jude, you’re with Number Four,' Cepha nodded to Agent Gideon who threw a file from his phone to the big screen.

'Jesus, she looks about 12,' said Sorrow.

'That’s her job,' said Jude. 'I worked with a retired Number Four once. They moved her on as soon as she started looking like an adult.'

'Mind that you don’t underestimate her,' said Cepha. 'She only looks harmless. She’s just as deadly and over-sexed as the rest. And she’s probably going to insist that you play sugar daddy. In public at least.'

'Alex will kill me,' said Jude.

Cepha’s mouth briefly twisted in the direction of a smile but Sorrow could see her forcing the corners of her mouth down. 'Alex is going to be too busy keeping an eye on the wounded and complaining to me about Cutty’s job to worry about what you’re getting up to.'

'Oh Gods,' said Cutty.

'I’ll get to that in a minute,' said Cepha. 'Sorrow, we’re going to suggest you to assist Number Seven.'

Another file appeared on the screen.

'What? The Number Seven? He needs help? Against what? Has Godzilla swum up the Thames or summat?' Sorrow looked to the others for confirmation that it was as shocking as she thought.

Cutty was sitting forward in her chair, eyes devouring every word on the screen. Jude was standing up straight, a sure sign that Cepha had his full attention.

'Someone did this to Number One,' Agent Gideon said and the screen filled with grisly crime scene photographs.

'Shitting hell,' said Cutty. Sorrow had to agree.

'The gas explosion at the Special Forces Club that you’ve all heard about?' said Agent Gideon, 'Wasn’t gas. It was a grenade in the room where the rest of the Blanks were holding a wake for Number One. They all got out of the room but someone got Number 2 with a poison kunai in the back.' He flicked another photograph onto the screen. An image of a woman lying face down in the rubble, red wig askew, face crushed, the kunai visible below her right shoulder blade.

'Three, Five and Six are in the joint SIS clinic recovering,' said Cepaha. 'Three has crush injuries and concussion, Five is in a coma, Six has multiple shrapnel wounds to the back. I’ll be a lot happier if I can get them to St Thomas’ under our care but I can’t see their boss agreeing to that.'

Sorrow moved closer to the screen, staring at the photographs of human organs strewn about the previously pristine room.

'You see something?' said Cepha.

'There’s something familiar there but I can’t put my finger on it,' said Sorrow. Familiar wasn’t quite the right word but Sorrow wasn’t sure what the word was. Was there a word for a feeling that was half nostalgia and half dread?

'If you work out what it is, don't keep it to yourself,' said Cepha, turning the full focus of her gaze on Sorrow.

Sorrow felt an inexplicable panic rising in her throat and sought for something to say to deflect that look. 'A grenade inside the Special Forces Club sounds a lot like an inside job.'

'I agree,' said Cepha, 'but it’s bound to be a delicate subject.'

'Unless SIS have changed a lot in the last twenty years I can guarantee that they’ve already considered it but they don’t like it and they will resist the suggestion. But if you don’t make the suggestion they’ll assume it’s because you’re either too stupid, too corrupt or involved,' said Jude.

'Sounds about right,' said Cepha. 'Whatever your charges think about the idea of an inside job I want you two to keep it in mind. Don’t trust anyone. Except, you know, us.'

'The usual then,' said Jude.

'I also want you to remember that Number Seven doesn’t know what he is. Probably none of the Blanks know what he is,' said Cepha.

'Does that mean that you don’t want me to tell him?' said Sorrow.

'You know that thing where I don’t give you orders you might have to disobey and you don’t ask for permissions I might have to refuse? This is that,' said Cepha. 'Go and read up on your charges. Gideon and I will have to leave soon.'

'I am going nowhere till you tell me exactly how you plan on keeping Alex distracted from the fact that I’m playing sugar daddy to a highly sexed spy,' said Jude.

'Alex isn’t going to be sitting around stewing in jealousy over you because she’s going to be too busy stewing in envy over Cutty. I’m going to get us access to all the files on the Blank program. Cutty, as befits the Historian of Secrets, is about to become the greatest living expert on the Blank Officers of SIS.'

Sorrow could see Cutty’s face twisting as different emotions fought for control. There was glee there, and pride but also worry and a touch of embarrassment. Then her face cleared.

'This is about Number Seven, isn’t it?' said Cutty.

Cepha glared at Cutty then looked back at Sorrow and Jude. 'Go. Do your reading. Gideon, make yourself scarce, we’ll be leaving in 5 minutes.'

They left, and as the door closed behind them Sorrow said, 'It’s definitely something to do with Number Seven.'

'I reckon so,' said Gideon, 'but it’s not just him. Her nibs does not approve of the Blank program. Or maybe she just doesn’t approve of SIS running it. Could be she’s going to use him as a wedge to lever the Blanks away from SIS and towards the Department.'

'Fucking politics,' said Jude.