Hey guys, I’m back with anohter C-21 story! Hope you enjoy this one just as much. Leave a comment telling me how you like it 🙂
“Mom, look!”
C-21 was a child, running around in his backyard. He’d built a spaceship, it was the ones you got at toy shops, that you assembled. Dad had bought it as a father son activity, but C-21 was tired of waiting around for Dad to be “in the mood” to do it with him. So he read the instructions and did it himself. He currently stood with his work of art held high above his head, ready for take off in mid air.
His mother laughed.
It felt like an odd sight to see someone laugh so openly. The adult C-21 had gotten very used to masks covering laughs. Dreams now felt like a lie, and right as his mind registered this was a dream, he woke up to the sound of his phone ringing.
Grumbling, he picked up. All agents must be available 24/7. He remembered his academy training, where they used to have mock drills at 3 in the morning sometimes. His commanding officer was an insomniac.
“Agent C-21, please get ready for deployment.”
“I’m supposed to be off duty, I logged off the system.”
“You’re…the closest to the soul.”
“Really? What are we, Uber?”
“Are you rejecting deployment, Agent C-21?”
“Again, I’m not an Uber driver rejecting a pick up. What is this?”
Silence.
He sighed. “No, no. Send me the address. I’ll… be there.”
His wife shuffled closer in bed next to him, draping a light arm across his chest. He smelled her hair and sighed in contentment. She smelled of bananas. It was an odd smell to spark love, but he loved bananas. He lightly picked her hand up. It fell right back into place across his chest. He laughed silently.
“Honey? I’ve got to go.”
“Mm, okay,” she moaned, shuffling closer still. He let out another chuckle, picking up her hand and rolling out of bed before dropping it back on the bed.
He checked his phone while sipping a mug of coffee. 24-A, Willingdon Heights. That was his building. He narrowed his eyes, trying to concentrate- who was in 24-A? He scrolled up in the message. Of course. Ingale.
Col. Ingale was a veteran. He had lost his eyesight in the Indo-China war, and now lived with his guide dog alone in 24-A.
His neighbours would be so distraught. Mrs. Sharma’s daughter was very attached to the old man. She often went grocery shopping for him.
C-21 felt an odd piercing in his chest, an unlikely sensation for him. Was it..sadness? Wow.
He’d always wondered if the day would come when he had to harvest the soul of someone he knew. Control Room tried to avoid situations like that, but every once in a while it could happen. He’d ruminate about what it’d feel like. He had not expected the sharp pain.
You learn something new every day.
The building corridor was deserted, as would be expected at that time of night. C-21 carefully picked the door latch to 24-A and slipped inside. He took a minute to adjust his eyes to the pitch darkness inside the house. Of course. Col. Ingale didn’t need the lights on.
He looked around, trying to remember the layout of the house from the few times he’d been there. The colonel’s bedroom was at the far end. Slowly, he tiptoed to the door. He didn’t get very far, though. A growling noise behind him made him stop.
Turning, he could roughly make out the shaggy head of Col. Ingale’s guide dog, Otis. He remembered Otis to be extremely friendly.
Grrr. Okay, that did not sound friendly.
“Hey, Otis,” he whispered, holding his hand out, praying to the high heavens that the dog wouldn’t bark.
Grrrrrrrrr.
Sigh. Dogs were always difficult to maneuver. He generally slipped through, unnoticed by humans on his missions, but animals? Animals always picked him up. Humans generally prioritized the death of a loved one over their pet barking. In a family, maybe someone might try to pacify the pet, but most people didn’t read much into it.
However, if Otis barked, the watchman would most definitely come in, and it would get messy.
“It’s me! You remember me from upstairs, yeah?” He snapped his fingers, still holding them out.
The shaggy figure approached C-21, sniffing cautiously. He held out his hand, steady. If the lights were on, one would appreciate the awkward standoff, C-21 half squatting, half kneeling, holding his hand out; Otis with his ears pulled back, almost baring his teeth at the ‘strange man’.
With his free hand, C-21 felt along the wall, higher up, hoping he’d find a light switch so that he could see better. Finally, his fingers hit one. Stretching a little, he put it on and…..nothing.
Great, doesn’t work. He sighed again. He was not ready for this at 4 in the morning. Should have had another cup of coffee.
Maybe if I shuffle closer?
He did, and instantly regretted it. In the dark, his hands met something cold and wet- Otis’ nose. Immediately, the dog snapped at him and started barking.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!
Mentally cursing himself, C-21 did something he would ideally have never done- he lunged forward, tackling the dog, and snapping his jowls shut with one hand. The dog scratched and ferociously fought the man, still growling, but C-21 was much bigger. Finally, he stopped struggling, and both of them lay there on the floor, an awkward jumble of legs and paws.
When he was sure Otis wouldn’t snap at him, he slowly released his legs from around the dog. He didn’t have a muzzle, so he held onto the dog’s snout, trying to take him along to the bedroom. The closer they got to the bedroom, the more Otis resisted. C-21 was growing tired and annoyed. He didn’t like holding down on the dog.
Next time they deploy me at 3AM, I’m going to ask about any pets.
Maybe he could let the dog go. He’d definitely bark and wake someone. Wait, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. He did want someone to find Col. Ingale before the body…well, before it was too late to respectfully give him a funeral.
He made the decision in a split second. Letting go of Otis, C-21 dashed into what he hoped was the bedroom. Oddly enough, the dog didn’t bark immediately.
He did, however, start barking when C-21 emerged from the bedroom, Col. Ingale in hand. Otis absolutely lost it. He started barking incessantly, following C-21 on his heels as the agent dashed to the door, consciously trying not to step on the dog’s tail. He deftly stepped out and shut the door behind him, almost bumping Otis on the snout.
He leaned against the door, catching his breath for a second. Through the door, he could hear Otis, now whimpering. He felt another pang of sadness pierce his chest. It was never easy for pets.
He took a deep sigh, and opened the door again. Without batting an eyelid, he scooped up the now growling dog in his arms, and made his way home.
The first rays of dawn had filtered in through the window as his wife woke up. C-21 wasn’t there. She vaguely remembered him going away at night. She proceeded to put on a pot of coffee. He’d need it. He was always grumpy after night duty.
He rang the doorbell with some difficulty, having to manage the struggling Otis in one hand. His wife answered almost immediately.
“That was fast, how long have you been gone?”
“An hour maybe.”
“Hmm. Fast.”
“He was upstairs.”
“Wait, the old Colonel?”
“Yeah..You’re going to let me in now?”
She still hadn’t opened the second grill.
“Not until you tell me why there’s a dog in your hand.”
“This is our dog now.”
“What?”
“He was the Colonel’s.”
“Well good, you take him to a shelter. He looks like he’ll bite our heads off.”
“Come on babe, he’s just lost his master. Look at his face.” C-21 held up the dog with both hands so she could see the puppy eyes.
“Don’t go pulling that shit on me! You know you can’t just get a random dead man’s dog home! He continued to hold up the dog. Otis had calmed down now, he just stared at her.
“His eyes are piercing through me. I can’t take him back, babe.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m looking at them,” she sighed.
A moment passed, another sigh, and she swung open the grill door. He walked in, Otis still in his arms, and plonked down on the sofa. She passed him his coffee. He sipped it quietly, his other hand petting the dog subconsciously.
“Why don’t you get changed? Maybe have a nap. I’ll get breakfast going.”
Oh shit. He’d almost forgotten. Hurriedly, he got up. “I actually have to go back.”
“Already?”
“I have to..get the… soul….to Control,” he cringed more with every word.
She froze.
“Where is the soul right now?”
Silence.
“Babe, where is the Colonel right now?”
“In….my…pocket?”
“YOU BROUGHT THE SOUL INTO OUR HOUSE?!”
“I’m sorry! I forgot and-”
“GET IT OUT RIGHT NOW!!! You know I’m not okay with souls in our house! You can’t just…go around with them in your pocket!”
“Sorry! I just… I needed coffee! I’m going!”
“NOW.” She all but pushed him out through the door.
Still cringing, he hurried down. Z-56, the rotund, cheerful Chariot driver, had pulled up.
“Hey, can I just..give this to you? I’ve had a long day, man.”
“Yeah, I heard. You’d just logged off and they put you back on, eh?”
“Yeah yeah.. Apparently I was the closest.”
“Treat us like fucking Uber drivers, man.” Z-56 shook his head. “I got you. You go get some sleep. See you later.”
Taking the Colonel’s soul, Z-56 sped off.
While walking back into the building, C-21 noticed the watchman was asleep.
“Hey,” he lightly shook the man.
The watchman swayed to his feet immediately, trying to look attentive. “Yes sir?”
“The dog in 24-A was making a lot of noise. Go check up on the Colonel later, yeah?”
The watchman nodded, stifling a yawn. He didn’t wonder what C-21 was doing up at this time. He needed to sleep, too.
The Wind Girl 