Post by Agent Aurange on Sept 28, 2005 17:51:07 GMT -5
It's been four years since I've been my normal self. The one that craves adventure, excitement, terror, and healthy competition. It's been four years since I've been in a big city full of politics, intrigue, and deception. No matter how many crooked people make their residence in Washington D.C., I still love my hometown. This place is my hometown now, I suppose. This place... desolate, corny--oh hell, why don't I just say it's a town with few, horrendous businesses where agriculture makes up probably 75% of the economy. Come on. It's a stereotype... anyone would know it by driving through a Midwestern small town. But that's not the point. No one knows what it's like to be betrayed by their country. No one knows that feeling to have it completely turn its back on you and spit in your face and threaten to kill you if you speak up for injustices. I think some people would be surprised by the amount of sheer crap the CIA manages to scrub beneath a dirty rug, unbeknownst to all's eyes. You can call me unpatriotic but can you blame me? I'm not going to sing the national anthem, I'm not going to proudly say the pledge of the allegiance, and I'm sure as hell not going to salute the flag. I'm not a bitch, I've just been betrayed, what don't they understand?! If your country betrayed you, would you be proud to be an American? I just have one question or one statement to make. So... this is what happens to the good guys?
A Boring Town Turned Upside Down
A thick fog laid over the area and the mist managed to shove the temperature to 60 degrees fahrenheit. It was sweater or light jacket weather even for a cold-blooded Minnesotant. The camera pans a water tower standing far above like a beacon of hope for those lost and waiting for real civilization. But nobody would find real civilization here. In Wanamingo. The only thing interesting about this place was that it sounded like a funny question that toddlers might point out to their parents as they are driving by the town. Wanna mingo? No. Well okay, but that's how people were. Wanamingo happy was the same as Wanamingo sad and Wanamingo lethargic. It wasn't a happy town but it wasn't a sad town either. It was neutral. The kind of neutral found in Ben Stein's monotonous voice.
In their tiny downtown was a coffee joint, a wallpaper place, and other small businesses that barely managed scrape by. The camera panned one building in particular, a simple corner bar that couldn't make up a phantasmic name for the life of it so instead the blocky letters read "BAR"... bar... no wonder why little business came through...
Again, a slight scene change occurs. We can assume it is inside of this meager bar simply because of its outlook; a bit musty with maybe one worn down pool table and darts, a few tables here and there accompanied by haggard steel chairs, and the actual bar which fused an old, runic look to it with the dark, gothic but shiny and chipped deep wood. There aren't too many country folks inside probably about two farmers likely taking their lunch breaks with a good beer and a burnt bar pizza, a singular man with jet black hair and a ridiculous leather coat, and some person who was drunk with their head down and a hoody covering their head and back. Of course, you can't forget the bartender who was an elementary man and just by looking at him, you could tell he was the type that knew his customers inside and out and was a great ear to talk into.
The "hustle and bustle" of the bar continued and the bartender continued his ongoing "conversation" with the leather jacket man, when in reality, the leather jacket man was talking his ears off about a new combine he bought and rap music... nice combination? The peace was relatively undisturbed until the bar swung open in a cool fashion and you just expected an awesomely awesome gun slinger to be standing there but instead... it was a tiny girl with locks of white blonde hair and beautiful gray eyes. She was dressed in a long-sleeved white shirt, blue jeans with flowers and butterfly embroidery dotting her bottom hemlines, and a gray sweatshirt tied around her waist.
This young lady looked mighty content but still had a determined wave eminating from her intriguing overcast eyes. Nobody really paid attention besides the two farmers eating their pizza and after one glance, they went back to their business. The girl came in a bit farther looking from a paper she had in her hand and then around the bar. She furrowed her eyebrows as her dinky voice broke the subtle silence.
Girl: Um... is there an Andy Aurange here?
The leather jacket man turned his head, as if responding to her request. The gray eyed girl met his gaze and stepped closer to him.
Girl: Are you Andy?
The man turned his head slightly to the side and shrugged. He spoke with a Minnesotant accent--one better distinguished by southerners and Bawston folks.
Leather Jacket: Yeah, that's me.
The bartender rose a brow and stopped swabbing the bar area and turned his attention to the duo talking.
Girl: Hm. I expected you to be better looking.
Leather Jacket: A little girl is judging my--
His speech was interrupted by the rustling of the hooded sleeping figure near the corner of the bar area. He rose his head and swiveled to also get a look at the talking duo but once his face was revealed... it was none other than a she with piercing brown eyes and pink lips. She pulled down her hood which then revealed long brown hair. The hoody woman hopped off of the stool and sauntered over to leather jacket and gray eyes. The chick might have been drunk--her eyes were streaked with red lightning bolts and her staggering walking style complemented that notion.
Hoody: Lay off, Marty, I know you are unemployed and poor but that doesn't mean you have to pretend to be someone your not in order to find an opportunity. And come on... it's a little girl... do you really think she's going to employ you with a six figure contract of some sort?
Marty: Shut up! Geez, Andy, you just have to rain of everyone's parade don't you? You are no better than me.
Andy: That may be right but you do know that's ridiculous to pretend to be someone else. Get the hell out of here, you washed up asshole.
The leather jacket named Marty gave her a look that could kill, threw some dollar bills onto the bar counter, and departed from the fair bar making a dramatic scene. The female called Andy watched him leave to make sure he carried his sorry ass out and she turned her gaze downward to the little girl.
Andy: Hey, sorry about that.
Girl: Eh, I figured it wouldn't be a HE... I was looking for a she and I considered the possibility of sex change.
Andy: Jesus christ, you are like 5 years old and you know about sex changes?!
Girl: I am NOT 5 years old! I am 11 years old, thank you very much. I am an excellent student--
Andy: Blah, blah, blah. Get to the technical stuff, missy. Why would a little girl like you tromp into a distant town like this looking for ME? I'm a nobody... you should just leave. I don't want to buy any stinking Girl Scout Cookies.
She began to leave but gray eyes grabbed her wrist. Andy slowly turned around and faced the little girl; you could just see the anger boiling in her eyes.
Andy: This better be important.
Girl: Sit and I will tell, you drunkard.
Andy: I'm not a damn drunkard.
Girl: Yes you are.
Andy: No.
Girl: YES!
Andy: NO I AM NOT!
Girl: Yes you freakin' are!
Andy: I'm not...
They both exchanged angry glances and Andy, getting over her stubbornness, complied with the gray eyed girl. She stumbled back to the bar area and sat down. By this time the two pizza farmers had already paid and left after getting a good chuckle out of Andy and the girl's bickering. The gray eyed girl took a seat next to Andy.
Girl: You are Agent Aurange aren't you... Agent Andy Aurange... I heard about you.
Andy: How would you know about that? That's confidential information. If the government knew you had it, both of us would get our heads chopped off and our bodies dumped in the ocean.
Girl: I told you I am an excellent student.
Andy: But sweety dear, that's not the kind of information you will be finding in a textbook... so I'm thinking you should tell me how you know it.
Young gray eyes quickly changed the subject.
Girl: My name is Amanda Johnson. AJ for short.
Andy laughed and shook her head.
Andy: Get real, kid, you can't change the subject like that. If you really know as much as you claim to then you'll realize I am highly perceptive in reading people because I was a CIA agent for four years. Your changing of subjects was blunt. It's nice to know your name instead of the freaky but cute little girl with gray eyes but I need to know where you got the information you have. It's classified, it's not for the public. You, missy, are a part of the public. Little children are apart of the public and little children aren't supposed to be having that kind of knowledge. God, I wish I had a memory eraser like the MIB... that would come in handy right now. Ugh, can't you just tell--
The way to shut up a gabber is by slipping something of interest into their hands and that's exactly what young AJ did. It was the piece of paper she had previously held in her own hands and now Andy was abruptly stopped with her mouth forming an "O" and her eyes staring into the distance. Her mouth closed and her eyes descended to have a look at this potentially vital paper the girl gave her. Enclosed on the paper were official words stating job opportunities at some wrestling organization apparently called Deadly Wrestling Lifestyle. There were all kinds of positions but one was highlighted in a flourescent pink near the bottom of the list of positions available...
Professional Wrestlers
Andy blinked and shook her head, not believing a word the paper said.
Andy: How can this be real? You kids nowadays know how to use computers to such an extent to create official documents such as this.
AJ: It's real, just trust me. You can call the number there if you'd like to see for sure if I'm telling the truth.
She was silent for a moment, trying read Amanda's perplexing eyes. They were telling her that she was telling the truth; thank god for her perceptive training second year at the Academy. Agent Aurange brushed a hand through her own hair and sighed.
Andy: How do I sign--
AJ: I already did for you.
Andy: What!! You can't do that. You are just a kid! That's got to be illegal. There you go again being a weird kid... you need to stop.
AJ: I got you signed by disguising my voice and saying that I was your career manager.
Andy: Good grief. Let me guess, you told them my social security number too?
Aurange snorted sarcastically.
AJ: Well, uh, yeah... actually I did.
Andy: ...
AJ: I had to. Don't ask. You are expected to appear in New York to officially declare your joining. They expect you to cut a promo when you get there. I'm going with you since I'll be your manager.
Andy: I just--geez--I just can't believe one bit of what you are saying. How am I supposed to know that ALL of this isn't just a prank on me? You are too knowledgable to be normal, is the CIA training kid agents to spy on people now? Is that it? Huh? Huh?
AJ: No, no, no! I'll explain all of this lat--
Whatever the deal was with people getting cut off was becoming more of an annoyance than ever before. The door of the bar swung open again and there was a police officer with his arms crossed and glaring at Amanda.
AJ: Uh oh.
Andy: Uh oh what? A cop? Why are you scared of a cop?
Cop: Amanda Johnson, I have direct orders to take you with me.
Amanda rolled her eyes and slouched. Agent Aurange pepped up and took one small step towards the police officer as if challenging his authority and the police officer took one giant leap towards her as well.
Andy: Wait, no. The girl goes nowhere with you, I still have questions to ask.
Cop: Aurange, this is official police business not dishonorably discharged ex-agent business that is unless you want to get yourself arrested which I'm apt to do since I don't like you.
Andy: Gee whiz, what crawled up your ass and died?
Realizing what she just said to authority, she placed a hand over her mouth and took a step back. AJ was having a hard time trying not to laugh. Apparently the little gray eyed girl thought police criticism was hilarious for some reason. The cop, however, was not as happy. He grumbled deep in his throat and started to reach forward to grab Agent Aurange's arm.
Andy: Uh, hehe, I was kidding... that just came out... come on. Take the kid, I don't care.
AJ: Andy! We're supposed to be partners here.
Agent Aurange just stood there as the cop changed his direction and grabbed Amanda instead and drug her away with her kicking and punching him. Just as the cop and the restrainted girl were exiting the cop let out a comment that should have been detained in his mind.
Cop: Nobody smart enough would want to partner with a coward and traitor.
There were few words in Aurange's expansive dictionary that set her off. You can call her a bitch, a slut, a whore, and any other god forbidden name and she wouldn't care but if you call her the T word then all hell could break loose. Agent Aurange's eyebrows formed a loose "V" and her monotonous face formed into that of an angry woman's. The bartender piped up and shook his head.
Bartender: Why did you call her the T word, Bill...
Andy sprung over to the doorway with such a quickness that it could even make an Olympic sprinter pant and sob. She broke Officer Bill's hold on the gray eyed girl with a few quick movements of her wrist. After that, Agent Aurange grabbed AJ's hand and led her away, AJ trying desperately to keep up with Andy's nifty speed. The ex-agent found her vehicle and instead of it being a hot, foreign yellow sports car it was a rundown, rusty, and worn brown truck with Minnesota license plates. She opened up the door (because in small towns, you rarely lock your cars) and threw AJ in as if kidnapping her. Aurange hurried over to the driver's side and got in. The car started up, she backed up like a maniac and drove off in the same fashion with dust kicking up in Officer Bill's face. He coughed and ran part of the way until he used his brain to figure out he wasn't going to catch up. Officer Bill shook his fist angrily in the air and let her get away... for now.
I really don't know what was on my mind that whole time. Trusting a little girl for her word mind boggling words of personal information that only me and the government knew. I was in a bad mood after that as is then I guess I was so angry and frustrated by the T word that anger (and booze) became and controlled me. That's what happened... I can't believe people in that forsaken town still haven't figured out that I am not fond of the T word. By now, I've regretted that decision to take the little girl with me with few official plans and going off what some sheet of paper says. I should have left her... especially after finding out who she REALLY was...
A Boring Town Turned Upside Down
A thick fog laid over the area and the mist managed to shove the temperature to 60 degrees fahrenheit. It was sweater or light jacket weather even for a cold-blooded Minnesotant. The camera pans a water tower standing far above like a beacon of hope for those lost and waiting for real civilization. But nobody would find real civilization here. In Wanamingo. The only thing interesting about this place was that it sounded like a funny question that toddlers might point out to their parents as they are driving by the town. Wanna mingo? No. Well okay, but that's how people were. Wanamingo happy was the same as Wanamingo sad and Wanamingo lethargic. It wasn't a happy town but it wasn't a sad town either. It was neutral. The kind of neutral found in Ben Stein's monotonous voice.
In their tiny downtown was a coffee joint, a wallpaper place, and other small businesses that barely managed scrape by. The camera panned one building in particular, a simple corner bar that couldn't make up a phantasmic name for the life of it so instead the blocky letters read "BAR"... bar... no wonder why little business came through...
Again, a slight scene change occurs. We can assume it is inside of this meager bar simply because of its outlook; a bit musty with maybe one worn down pool table and darts, a few tables here and there accompanied by haggard steel chairs, and the actual bar which fused an old, runic look to it with the dark, gothic but shiny and chipped deep wood. There aren't too many country folks inside probably about two farmers likely taking their lunch breaks with a good beer and a burnt bar pizza, a singular man with jet black hair and a ridiculous leather coat, and some person who was drunk with their head down and a hoody covering their head and back. Of course, you can't forget the bartender who was an elementary man and just by looking at him, you could tell he was the type that knew his customers inside and out and was a great ear to talk into.
The "hustle and bustle" of the bar continued and the bartender continued his ongoing "conversation" with the leather jacket man, when in reality, the leather jacket man was talking his ears off about a new combine he bought and rap music... nice combination? The peace was relatively undisturbed until the bar swung open in a cool fashion and you just expected an awesomely awesome gun slinger to be standing there but instead... it was a tiny girl with locks of white blonde hair and beautiful gray eyes. She was dressed in a long-sleeved white shirt, blue jeans with flowers and butterfly embroidery dotting her bottom hemlines, and a gray sweatshirt tied around her waist.
This young lady looked mighty content but still had a determined wave eminating from her intriguing overcast eyes. Nobody really paid attention besides the two farmers eating their pizza and after one glance, they went back to their business. The girl came in a bit farther looking from a paper she had in her hand and then around the bar. She furrowed her eyebrows as her dinky voice broke the subtle silence.
Girl: Um... is there an Andy Aurange here?
The leather jacket man turned his head, as if responding to her request. The gray eyed girl met his gaze and stepped closer to him.
Girl: Are you Andy?
The man turned his head slightly to the side and shrugged. He spoke with a Minnesotant accent--one better distinguished by southerners and Bawston folks.
Leather Jacket: Yeah, that's me.
The bartender rose a brow and stopped swabbing the bar area and turned his attention to the duo talking.
Girl: Hm. I expected you to be better looking.
Leather Jacket: A little girl is judging my--
His speech was interrupted by the rustling of the hooded sleeping figure near the corner of the bar area. He rose his head and swiveled to also get a look at the talking duo but once his face was revealed... it was none other than a she with piercing brown eyes and pink lips. She pulled down her hood which then revealed long brown hair. The hoody woman hopped off of the stool and sauntered over to leather jacket and gray eyes. The chick might have been drunk--her eyes were streaked with red lightning bolts and her staggering walking style complemented that notion.
Hoody: Lay off, Marty, I know you are unemployed and poor but that doesn't mean you have to pretend to be someone your not in order to find an opportunity. And come on... it's a little girl... do you really think she's going to employ you with a six figure contract of some sort?
Marty: Shut up! Geez, Andy, you just have to rain of everyone's parade don't you? You are no better than me.
Andy: That may be right but you do know that's ridiculous to pretend to be someone else. Get the hell out of here, you washed up asshole.
The leather jacket named Marty gave her a look that could kill, threw some dollar bills onto the bar counter, and departed from the fair bar making a dramatic scene. The female called Andy watched him leave to make sure he carried his sorry ass out and she turned her gaze downward to the little girl.
Andy: Hey, sorry about that.
Girl: Eh, I figured it wouldn't be a HE... I was looking for a she and I considered the possibility of sex change.
Andy: Jesus christ, you are like 5 years old and you know about sex changes?!
Girl: I am NOT 5 years old! I am 11 years old, thank you very much. I am an excellent student--
Andy: Blah, blah, blah. Get to the technical stuff, missy. Why would a little girl like you tromp into a distant town like this looking for ME? I'm a nobody... you should just leave. I don't want to buy any stinking Girl Scout Cookies.
She began to leave but gray eyes grabbed her wrist. Andy slowly turned around and faced the little girl; you could just see the anger boiling in her eyes.
Andy: This better be important.
Girl: Sit and I will tell, you drunkard.
Andy: I'm not a damn drunkard.
Girl: Yes you are.
Andy: No.
Girl: YES!
Andy: NO I AM NOT!
Girl: Yes you freakin' are!
Andy: I'm not...
They both exchanged angry glances and Andy, getting over her stubbornness, complied with the gray eyed girl. She stumbled back to the bar area and sat down. By this time the two pizza farmers had already paid and left after getting a good chuckle out of Andy and the girl's bickering. The gray eyed girl took a seat next to Andy.
Girl: You are Agent Aurange aren't you... Agent Andy Aurange... I heard about you.
Andy: How would you know about that? That's confidential information. If the government knew you had it, both of us would get our heads chopped off and our bodies dumped in the ocean.
Girl: I told you I am an excellent student.
Andy: But sweety dear, that's not the kind of information you will be finding in a textbook... so I'm thinking you should tell me how you know it.
Young gray eyes quickly changed the subject.
Girl: My name is Amanda Johnson. AJ for short.
Andy laughed and shook her head.
Andy: Get real, kid, you can't change the subject like that. If you really know as much as you claim to then you'll realize I am highly perceptive in reading people because I was a CIA agent for four years. Your changing of subjects was blunt. It's nice to know your name instead of the freaky but cute little girl with gray eyes but I need to know where you got the information you have. It's classified, it's not for the public. You, missy, are a part of the public. Little children are apart of the public and little children aren't supposed to be having that kind of knowledge. God, I wish I had a memory eraser like the MIB... that would come in handy right now. Ugh, can't you just tell--
The way to shut up a gabber is by slipping something of interest into their hands and that's exactly what young AJ did. It was the piece of paper she had previously held in her own hands and now Andy was abruptly stopped with her mouth forming an "O" and her eyes staring into the distance. Her mouth closed and her eyes descended to have a look at this potentially vital paper the girl gave her. Enclosed on the paper were official words stating job opportunities at some wrestling organization apparently called Deadly Wrestling Lifestyle. There were all kinds of positions but one was highlighted in a flourescent pink near the bottom of the list of positions available...
Professional Wrestlers
Andy blinked and shook her head, not believing a word the paper said.
Andy: How can this be real? You kids nowadays know how to use computers to such an extent to create official documents such as this.
AJ: It's real, just trust me. You can call the number there if you'd like to see for sure if I'm telling the truth.
She was silent for a moment, trying read Amanda's perplexing eyes. They were telling her that she was telling the truth; thank god for her perceptive training second year at the Academy. Agent Aurange brushed a hand through her own hair and sighed.
Andy: How do I sign--
AJ: I already did for you.
Andy: What!! You can't do that. You are just a kid! That's got to be illegal. There you go again being a weird kid... you need to stop.
AJ: I got you signed by disguising my voice and saying that I was your career manager.
Andy: Good grief. Let me guess, you told them my social security number too?
Aurange snorted sarcastically.
AJ: Well, uh, yeah... actually I did.
Andy: ...
AJ: I had to. Don't ask. You are expected to appear in New York to officially declare your joining. They expect you to cut a promo when you get there. I'm going with you since I'll be your manager.
Andy: I just--geez--I just can't believe one bit of what you are saying. How am I supposed to know that ALL of this isn't just a prank on me? You are too knowledgable to be normal, is the CIA training kid agents to spy on people now? Is that it? Huh? Huh?
AJ: No, no, no! I'll explain all of this lat--
Whatever the deal was with people getting cut off was becoming more of an annoyance than ever before. The door of the bar swung open again and there was a police officer with his arms crossed and glaring at Amanda.
AJ: Uh oh.
Andy: Uh oh what? A cop? Why are you scared of a cop?
Cop: Amanda Johnson, I have direct orders to take you with me.
Amanda rolled her eyes and slouched. Agent Aurange pepped up and took one small step towards the police officer as if challenging his authority and the police officer took one giant leap towards her as well.
Andy: Wait, no. The girl goes nowhere with you, I still have questions to ask.
Cop: Aurange, this is official police business not dishonorably discharged ex-agent business that is unless you want to get yourself arrested which I'm apt to do since I don't like you.
Andy: Gee whiz, what crawled up your ass and died?
Realizing what she just said to authority, she placed a hand over her mouth and took a step back. AJ was having a hard time trying not to laugh. Apparently the little gray eyed girl thought police criticism was hilarious for some reason. The cop, however, was not as happy. He grumbled deep in his throat and started to reach forward to grab Agent Aurange's arm.
Andy: Uh, hehe, I was kidding... that just came out... come on. Take the kid, I don't care.
AJ: Andy! We're supposed to be partners here.
Agent Aurange just stood there as the cop changed his direction and grabbed Amanda instead and drug her away with her kicking and punching him. Just as the cop and the restrainted girl were exiting the cop let out a comment that should have been detained in his mind.
Cop: Nobody smart enough would want to partner with a coward and traitor.
There were few words in Aurange's expansive dictionary that set her off. You can call her a bitch, a slut, a whore, and any other god forbidden name and she wouldn't care but if you call her the T word then all hell could break loose. Agent Aurange's eyebrows formed a loose "V" and her monotonous face formed into that of an angry woman's. The bartender piped up and shook his head.
Bartender: Why did you call her the T word, Bill...
Andy sprung over to the doorway with such a quickness that it could even make an Olympic sprinter pant and sob. She broke Officer Bill's hold on the gray eyed girl with a few quick movements of her wrist. After that, Agent Aurange grabbed AJ's hand and led her away, AJ trying desperately to keep up with Andy's nifty speed. The ex-agent found her vehicle and instead of it being a hot, foreign yellow sports car it was a rundown, rusty, and worn brown truck with Minnesota license plates. She opened up the door (because in small towns, you rarely lock your cars) and threw AJ in as if kidnapping her. Aurange hurried over to the driver's side and got in. The car started up, she backed up like a maniac and drove off in the same fashion with dust kicking up in Officer Bill's face. He coughed and ran part of the way until he used his brain to figure out he wasn't going to catch up. Officer Bill shook his fist angrily in the air and let her get away... for now.
I really don't know what was on my mind that whole time. Trusting a little girl for her word mind boggling words of personal information that only me and the government knew. I was in a bad mood after that as is then I guess I was so angry and frustrated by the T word that anger (and booze) became and controlled me. That's what happened... I can't believe people in that forsaken town still haven't figured out that I am not fond of the T word. By now, I've regretted that decision to take the little girl with me with few official plans and going off what some sheet of paper says. I should have left her... especially after finding out who she REALLY was...