I know it comes off a little cheesy every time I say it, but being a Titan agent is fucking awesome. It's always been the gift that keeps giving. Where else will I ski down Mt. Fuji with an RPG to destroy a superweapon? Or skydive 30,000 feet without a parachute to disarm a bomb hidden in an airborne briefcase?
Or get illegal access to all fifty seasons of Thomas Tiger's Medium-Sized World, so you can take your five-year-old daughter to see the 3-hour fifty-five minute and twenty-half second Thomas Tiger's Medium-Sized World Ice Show? Now that I think about it, I don't need Titan to do that last part, but regardless, being Titan has changed my life forever.
It's also nearly ended my life multiple times. This often leads me to have one wish reverberate through my mind while watching the daily dilly-dallying of the show Don't You Dare Drop the Soap of Our Lives. What if I could have the fun of my job without getting shot at?
Thankfully, whenever the world wasn't on the line, and my little munchkin was happily asleep by 9 with dreams of anamorphic tigers, my answer came on the paintball battlefield. A pretty benign pastime till you realize its history in Titan. The organization has always been more than espionage and fancy gizmos. It'd be nothing without the community it's founded upon.
The only one who understood this philosophy as well as Mr. Daniels was Binh Ho, Titan's premiere leader during the swinging 60's. His three years may've been incredibly short (then again, how would you exactly handle the Cuban Missile Crisis), but his many policies stuck around.
One is the annual paintball tournament, which grew in acclaim and complexity. I was a bystander in years past, cheering my throat out in the colorful clashes, until a couple of years back when I decided to be a player during the worst time in my life. It was one of the few ways I stayed sane after what happened.
Of course, I wouldn't have been able to get through it if I didn't have a team to let me in. Dozens of offers reached out to me, but I refused them all in favor of one: The Dogs of War. What can I say? I can't resist a good "underdog" story. Of course, my team never needed help. It's been six weeks since my mission to get Stan, and through my recovery, the team was able to inch their way to the finals.
And now that I got a clean bill of health, I wanted to thank them properly with one big blowout before the next game. So after tucking Lily good night and giving Margaret the mother of all bear hugs, I packed up my feast full of food and drove the minivan towards my home away from home: the nearby grocery store.
Here, I replaced trading bone-breaking blows with brawlers for exchanging bargains from a bandolier of coupons. Combined with my favorite cashier, Zia, at the helm, I didn't waste a single movement as I tore through my checklist like a monorail. However, when I got to inspect the quality of some twin baguettes, I heard a voice that stopped my progress.
"The one on the right is the better one."
Despite the voice's casual wording, the tone instantly brought my training back in full force. My bread transformed into a makeshift blade I leveled at my enemy's throat. Some passersby looked at 1us bewildered, but not the women standing before me. First-hand experience taught me nothing could shake her when her fiery sights got on something. I was the latest target.
"Merci, Artillery," the woman said with a taunting grin.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Once common sense reeled me back in, I fully recognized the person I almost Marie Antoinette'd and sheathed my baguette.
"I've already told you, Lexa, I don't go by that name anymore. James is just fine."
From there, I took another look at Lexa, or as most people call her, Alexandria Pella. Regarding Titan, the name is royalty, considering Lexa's the fourth generation in a family of overachieving agents. To me, though, she was like the big sister I never had, showing me the ropes of Titan during my early days before getting that dreaded codename.
Between my partnership with Sarah plus all this Pantheon nonsense, it's been a while since I saw her, yet she somehow remained unchanged like marble. Being in her 40s now didn't keep Alexandria's stock, weightlifter physique down at all, as she crossed her exposed muscular arms over her tight, sleeveless black. Paired with her army green cargo pants and slightly glistened skin, I could tell she'd been running.
Her smooth dark olive skin, straight nose, light green eyes, and small scar towards her right eyebrow stood strong. Delighting in my response, Lexa's dark red, neck-length ponytail seemed to bob like a flickering flame as she retained her steady composure.
"Sorry, James."
The mischievously proper smile then made my brain finally take the hint.
"Wait, why are you even here?"
"Simple coincidence. I just happened to try and pick up a quick snack after a brisk evening jog. Then I saw you and wanted to talk."
My brain then put my D- minus in Geography to good work.
"Don't you live in Greece?"
"Complete coincidence," she said with the same tone.
Knowing her mouth would stay tighter than Fort Knox otherwise, I countered back with some masterful baiting (wait, that sounds wrong).
"Honestly, I'm surprised you even had the time to run. I thought the Fatal Femmes would be more worried given how last year ended."
Alexandria's pleasant grin gave way to a sickly smile, her competitive edge bottlenecking through a forked tongue.
"I appreciate the concern, James, but my team will be fine. Things will be much different this time," she said with the confidence that won her a thousand battles.
The early March sun suddenly felt sweltering amidst Lexa's aura, a feeling I only got when in Mr. Daniel's office. Then again, the two always seemed to have a larger-than-life presence, which isn't surprising. Lexa always did aim for the top.
"Yeah, like how it was different during our 76th arm wrestling match or our 5th pie eating contest and only strip poker game," I said with child-like pettiness.
Dropping formalities, Lexa fired back with our own.
"I don't exactly recall you doing so hot in our 3rd beauty pageant, 24th escape room speedrun, and 451st rock em sock em Robot match. So I'd say the total score is currently tied at 876.5 to 876.5," she said proudly.
My rusted car engine for a brain, then counted it out, realizing she was right.
"Touche', if that's the case, then I guess that'll be the great tiebreaker, huh?"
The proper side of my sportsmanship started kicking in as I gave my hand out for our iconic handshake.
"May the best agent win then, Lexa."
"I intend to, James Kali epitihia." she fired back as she shook my hand hard enough to almost break it.
After she helped with my groceries, Lexa departed. And when I saw her turn her back to me while walking briskly, I remembered exactly why we grew apart these last couple of years. We both may lead busy lives, but while I still held onto the little things, Lexa only seemed to move towards something greater. She was an unstoppable force, meaning "we" must be immovable to meet her head-on.
Before I left for the party, though, I was greeted with one more surprise. Instead of getting a message from my faithful sidekick: "Pally." Controversial take, I know, but come on now, we all know it's my name on the title, right? Still, I couldn't help but be excited. In both real life and on the phone, I was the one who started and ended conversations, but my past few weeks of recovery and checking off my bucket list left me limited in my responses.
By the time I caught wind, Sarah was heading to London. We've been barely talking ever since. But I still tried reaching out nonetheless. I've got to. When I finally opened my phone, I got greeted with another display of my partner's veritable vocabulary.
'Hey," I imagined her saying in her usual gruff Clint Eastwood-sounding ass voice.
"Sup?" I say in my hella dope, completely casual yet hip tone.
"That paintball match you got is tomorrow, right?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Well, good luck. "
The conversation was short but still sweet. I should've known better that she'd retain some of my paintball updates despite all my ramblings, rantings, and speeches.
"Thank you. Would love to see you there."
I then cursorily saw three dots load up before blurting out.
"I might," she said before disappearing into the digital ether.
Those two words made me giddy enough to skip my set of groceries to my car. Since we became partners, I tried following Lexa's example while showing her the wonders Titan offered. Bring all the favors Titan gave me full circle. And after months of killing that crusty exterior of hers with kindness, it seems I finally did it. This means tomorrow can't come fast enough. Because something tells me it's going to be the bestest day ever!