“Uh… who?” Nikki asked. “I thought we had our own mission.”

“Demands aren’t really the best here,” Tisiah explained. “Give us the folders, please.”

I did so, to which they both had acquired their own, opening it at the same time to this oddly synchronized reading that couldn’t help but make me concerned.

“She’s in our next class. Master Tiphe’s,” she explained. “I didn’t know her name was Mari, though.”

“How? Don’t we know everybody in that class?” Tisiah asked, to which I dumbly responded, “We do?”

Silence was shared among us. Tisiah sighed. “Let’s just... go,” he responded, as we strolled down the stairs and to the class.

The class was outside, if I haven’t explained before, and there was a large, high fence that went around the compound. Odd. I didn’t know the TSA liked attacking our place that much.

With that, most of the class was there, including Mari, who was at the far corner, staring away.

Figures…

All three of us walked towards her, to which she glanced at us twice, not clearly understanding that we were even coming. She had this sort of look, a confused look, and a bored face.

“Are you guys doing another one of those interview things where you come up with some fake microphone, which is your phone and—”

“No, no, we’re not,” Nikki responded. Mari looked at her and chuckled. “New teammates?”

“Surprised you didn’t guess that the first time, huh,” Nikki commented. Mari shrugged. “Trauma. Those boys never stop coming. Anyways, I’m guessing your Tisiah?”

“For sure, nice to meet you,” he said, to which he threw out his hand for a shake. Mari widened her eyes, threw on a wide fake smile, I think, and shook hands slowly.

“And you’re, uh, Cory?”

Well, talk about disrespect. I shook my head and responded, “Connor.” Mari widened her eyes. “Oh. It should’ve been Cory.”

Bro, what? When did we get Nikki 2.0? Tell that to my parents.

“We wanted to discuss the mission that you were put on in the first place until your—uh, sorry for your loss—friend was removed.”

“Thanks for telling me a story I already know,” Mari responded. Tisiah stumbled back, as if she just shot him with a pistol. “And I assume the assignment was in your folders.”

“Didn’t read all of it yet.”

Mari sighed, and she sighed hard. “You know The CARGO Foundation. The Center of Excellence for Reliable Genetics”

“CARGO—yes, we’ve heard about it. It’s located all around the United States,” Nikki explained. Mari did that awkward smile again. “Great, but I’m out of cookies,” she finally commented.

Wow… so funny, you corny beast.

“The TSA installed an informant that is leaking information to them. Coming from the C.U.B.I, they want him gone. Preferred alive, but would be fine dead. But they don’t want Carlos to know there’s an informant.”

“Ahh… any idea what he looks like?”

“Look at your folder; how about that?” Mari responded, as Tisiah nodded with this gentle smile, to which he tapped our shoulders, signaling us to leave.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

But that was borderline useless, because Master Tiphe, with her commanding, strong voice, shouted, “In formation!”

***

After a series of exercises that were designed to paralyze me, the PA had suddenly rang, which everyone immediately stopped to hear. Tisiah stumbled as he got up, but eventually got there in time to hear the announcement.

“Please meet inside the Magnifico theater to get your wands. They are now ready for you.”

With that came the next exercise: survival.

Immediately, every student rushed inside of the building as the hallways turned from scatters of students, I imagine, into the equivalent of New York’s sidewalks.

“Come on, move!” I shrieked, feeling the bodies of other students compress me.

If I could just keep my life until the theater, then I'd be safe. “Nikki!” I shouted, and I could hear their voices behind me to the right.

I glanced and saw them, to which I squished from the sweaty prison and ran over, a cold air of safety upon me. “Where did you even go?” Nikki asked.

“I don’t know. But we need to go now,” Tisiah remarked.

Nikki gave him a perplexed look. “Are we not going already?” she asked. But with that, the Magnifico had now allowed us in, and the ruckus that had been roaring now had its reason.

The wands were back.

“Please wait for the transporters to give you your wands,” I heard Mr. Drails shout, and he was on stage. He was wearing a gray suit this time, with a black vest and bowtie.

He was smiling as if for the camera, although it would be impossible for anyone to even notice him through the thick crowd. There were staff that were grabbing things from this box that was stationed in the middle of the stage.

In between those hands were wands. Students were being passed wands from every corner, and as every student began to inspect their weapons, their eyes narrowed in surprise.

What was it? I was dying to know.

Then, approaching me was one of the staff, to which Nikki and Tisiah stared at the wand in awe, although there was nothing that screamed ‘different’. It still had the dragon on top, with the stick that lengthened under it like a sword.

“Well…” I muttered, confusion rather strong in my feelings. But as I turned it around, I did find a significant detail that made it all the more different. There was a small black screen on the stick of the wand, and in three blinks, it came up in blue: Level 1: O MP.

Oh, my goodness.

I was near fainting, just seeing the tool to my success right in my hand. And we had a mission.

Now, it’s with Mari, who had proven herself to be a ball of thorns, but a few sacrifices had to be made.

This was my time to shine.

“Oh, that’s cool,” Tisiah said breathlessly. “And when do we start our mission?”

He checked his folder, which he scanned through. Nikki and I stared at him, waiting for the answer to be put into words—noises that our ears could comprehend.

“Tomorrow,” he suddenly—though not actually suddenly—revealed, to which we were immediately rid of the excitement. Obviously, that’s what they always do, and I never understand it.

They say the reason they do it so abruptly is so that you’re prepared for when things change. But if they aren't, then why do that? Besides, you’re not going to put me on an operation you don’t even know about.

“Should’ve known,” Nikki muttered as she turned around, staring at who knows where.

***

School ended, and I had eventually arrived home. And once I did, I knocked on the door. But here was the thing that caused me to have a volley of questions:.

Greg opened the door.

Now, here are my questions if you care, and if you don’t—well, skip ahead. Why did Greg come in the first place if I wasn’t there? How long has he been staying there? And how did Mom simply accept that.

Then, from upstairs, I could hear my mom shout, “Greg, don’t open the door! I—”

She managed to see that it was me, although her expression changed nonetheless. “Greg, whenever someone is at the door, unless there is no one there, do not open it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Greg muttered as he bowed subtly, with a smile that seemed completely surrendering. He was scared of Mom, which was a good—in fact, great—great thing. It meant that he wouldn’t decide to do anything dumb.

“Hey, Mom,” I finally said, although it still didn’t even seem like it was the right time to do it.

“You already know what to do,” Mom ordered, to which I nodded. But as soon as I walked past Greg, he began to follow me at such an odd pace, as if he were just trying to scramble away from Mom.

As soon as I entered the room, Greg immediately asked, “Did it start?”

“Did what—”

“What do you think?” he hissed, to which I widened my eyes and nodded slowly. I was not sure what he was talking—ohhhhhhh…

“Yeah, yeah, it did. In fact, there’s now this little screen where it shows that I was level with no MP,” I responded. Too much information... but he got the point.

Greg frowned. “And the mission?”

“Got it, red-dot em’. We’re apparently going to the CARGO Foundation and trying to expose a mole that the C.U.B.I is apparently suspicious of.”

“What’s the CARGO Foundation?” Greg asked. I shrugged. “I have no clue.”