Lupe dropped to the floor, trying to swipe Naveah's legs from under her. The Senior Agent merely slammed her staff into the earth, stopping the young Shadoll’s sweep with a satisfying crunch. In response, Lupe merely kicked off with her good leg to create some space between Her and her mentor.

  It had been a while since she had sparred Naveah, the opportunity was rather rare considering that they were almost constantly working missions. Lupe figured that Naveah was the only competent Senior Agent, as both Oz and Primrose had failed to leave a good impression on her… And she hadn’t yet met the fourth and last Senior.

  Shaking off the faint tingling sensation in her shin, Lupe nodded with satisfaction as the bone mended the fracture instantly, before rushing in again. Despite her fearsome title, Naveah was predominantly a defensive fighter, preferring to wait for her opponent to make the first move and then react accordingly, so Lupe had gotten used to taking the initiative.

  She feinted a high strike, only to twist her body mid-motion and drive her elbow toward Naveah's ribs.

  The Senior barely moved. With a precise shift of her weight, she caught Lupe’s arm on her forearm and twisted, redirecting the momentum harmlessly to the side.

  Lupe barely had time to register the counter before Naveah slammed her shoulder into her, sending the Junior Agent skidding backward.

  "Predictable," Naveah mused, rolling her shoulders. "You're getting faster, but your creativity is rather lacklustre."

  Lupe said nothing. Her expression remained as impassive as ever, but she processed the feedback quickly. It was true, she relied on overwhelming her opponent with quick, precise strikes, but Naveah was used to that by now.

  Adjusting her stance, Lupe shifted their approach. Instead of charging forward recklessly, she slowed her steps, circling Naveah with measured intent.

  The Senior's eyes sharpened. "Oh? Finally thinking?"

  Lupe didn't answer. Instead, she surged forward again, but this time, she didn't go for an immediate attack. Instead, she darted left, then right, forcing Naveah to adjust.

  The Senior shifted her grip on the staff blade ever so slightly in anticipation.

  That was what Lupe had been waiting for.

  In an instant, the Shadoll dropped low, but instead of going for another leg sweep, she pushed off the ground and vaulted over Naveah's shoulder in a sudden aerial manoeuvre. Her heel came down in a brutal axe kick toward the back of the Seniors head.

  For the first time in the spar, Naveah was forced to move. He twisted just enough for the kick to graze past her, but even then, the sheer force of it sent a gust of wind whipping past her cheek.

  Lupe landed smoothly, pivoting to face her once more.

  Naveah exhaled, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Not bad."

  Lupe smirked, a rare sign of emotion as she repeated Naveah's words back to her. "You’re finally thinking? It’s for the best, your creativity is lacklustre."

  Crouching to the ground, her eyes not leaving the Senior Agent for a moment, Lupe plunged her hand into her own shadow and pulled out an inky black knife. There were no markings or changes in the colour, it looked like the silhouette of a blade as opposed to the real thing. It was a rather weak Key she had learnt at a young age, something even a child could figure out how to pull off, still it was useful.

  Naveah reacted just as Lupe started another rush, tilting her body to let the strike glide past harmlessly. But Lupe wasn't done. The instant the blade missed, she flicked her wrist, the stiletto dissolving and reforming in her opposite hand. With the new angle, she drove the weapon downward, aiming for Naveah's exposed side.

  There was no way she’d see this coming, Lupe had never summoned the dagger from anything over than her own shadow before intentionally, so when it appeared from the darkness between from her long sleeved jacket and her arm, even the God of War Naveah would be caught off her guard.

  Somehow, she managed anyway, wrenching her body away from the strike, her footwork impeccable as she stepped just out of range. But Lupe followed. Unlike before, she wasn't letting up.

  Another strike. Another. Each blow was sharp, precise, and relentless. Lupe pressed forward, forcing Naveah back with the sheer speed of her assault.

  The senior parried two more strikes before her smirk finally faded. Her stance shifted ever so slightly, weight settling lower as hers gloved fist clenched.

  Then, without warning-

  “You did good, Junior Agent Shadoll.” Remarked Naveah, offering Lupe some kind of drink. “It’s rare to see someone pick up on this kind of thing so intuitively.”

  The Junior Agent nodded, enjoying the refreshing smile from her Senior, as opposed to her own shadows furious glare as it nursed its leg. Clicking the can open, Lupe tried not to wrinkle her nose, it was some kind of recovery item, jam packed with not so nice smelling nutrients and minerals.

  “I’m serious.” Said Naveah, as she took a seat against the wall next to the Shadoll, “We’ve been training together since you joined, as requested in your contract, and you’ve made incredible results.”

  Lupe was quiet for a moment, she allowed herself to relish in the genuine praise from someone she looked up to, but then her expression hardened. She felt herself drifting back to that fateful night, right after she hid under the dying body of her mother and father, and the first promise she had ever sworn.

  “It’s not good enough.” She said, resolutely, “Not until I surpass what it means to be human, not until I’ve killed that thing”

  Naveah opened her mouth but could only close it without commenting. Lupe already knew what she intended to say, she had heard it all before.

  ‘Give up.’

  ‘You’re digging yourself an early Grave.’

  ‘A human cannot kill a god.’

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Skilfully changing the subject, Senior Agent Naveah brought up some work gossip one of her subordinates had been talking about, “I heard you’re the first Junior Agent this batch to be assigned a direct supervisor? Oz, right?”

  Lupe’s can paused only halfway through its journey towards her lips. For a fraction of a second, her shadow stilled as well.

  “Yes,” she replied after a measured beat. “Senior Agent Oz Verdandi.”

  There was no emotion in her tone. Only acknowledgment.

  Naveah observed the reaction without turning her head. “And?”

  Lupe took a slow sip of the drink, enduring the metallic bitterness before answering. “He is… different from what I expected.”

  That earned a slight tilt of Naveah’s head. “Different how?”

  “He sucks.” Said Lupe, annoyance creeping into her tone. “Don’t look at me like that, try sitting in the same car as him for twenty minutes,”

  Naveah narrowed her eyes, “Regardless of how much you dislike him, Oz is still your senior in the combat ops, and for good reason.”

  “Except there isn’t one,” Shot back Lupe twirling her hair around a finger, “He sucks, didn’t even know how to call an ambulance, it’s ridiculous.”

  “Well,” Started Naveah, wondering how to defend her colleague, “That just means he’s never had to call one before.”

  She thought that had been a good response, but from the way agent Lupe only looked at her with flat, disappointed eyes she wasn’t very impressed. Naveah had never really interacted with Verdandi, so she couldn’t say much for his intricacies, but she knew his results.

  “I suggest you reconsider the man.” Said Naveah at last, “Oz came to new Europe with his daughter about five years ago, following the collapse of Faust down in Africa. He didn’t travel with any guards, or in a group… He and his daughter made the trip through uninhabitable, Jinn infested land alone.”

  Lupe kept quiet.

  “He has more to teach you than you’d think,” she said finally thinking that her Junior was starting to listen. “Next time you’re with him, try analysing him, find out the depths of Verdandi… Maybe he’s teaching you a lesson unsaid.”

  “You are aware,” Naveah continued, measured and calm, “that Oz Verdandi is one of the few Senior Agents who consistently clears high-risk zones with minimal casualties.”

  Lupe took another sip of her drink.

  “That is what the reports say.”

  “And you think the reports are wrong?”

  “I think,” Lupe said, tone perfectly neutral, “that the reports do not account for how unbearable he is.”

  There was a short silence.

  “That,” she admitted, “is not a metric the PSF currently records.”

  “He also did not know how to call an ambulance.”

  Naveah paused again.

  That one was, admittedly, harder to contextualise.

  “…He operates primarily in lethal zones,” she said carefully. “Ambulances are rarely relevant in his line of work.”

  Lupe slowly lowered the can from her lips and gave her a long, unimpressed look.

  Naveah held the gaze for exactly two seconds before looking away, conceding the weakness of her own argument without verbally admitting it.

  “Well,” she amended, more honestly this time, “I have not worked directly with him often. But his operational record is not fabricated. Senior positions are not granted on reputation alone.”

  Lupe did not argue that point.

  Hearing her phone vibrate, the young junior quickly stole a glance to her mobile, it’s cracked screen displayed an unknown number. Not that it mattered, as the message signed off as ‘Sincerely Senior Agent Verdandi’.

  “Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Muttered Lupe under her breath, “I can’t believe he figured out how to use his phone…”

  “Oh?” Asked Naveah, admittedly curious, “What’s he asking?”

  Lupe showed her.

  [Make yourself free this Wednesday evening. We have a mission.]

  The attached screenshot was… Theatre tickets?

  Lortum pondered on it for a while. If he wanted to understand how Oz had lived before his death, it was imperative that the Jinn figured out the Do’s and Don’ts of modern life for a citizen. So, it was rather lucky that two theatre tickets had fallen into his lap, or rather it would have been if he knew who to take with.

  After figuring out the passcode for the ‘phone’ with a lot of trial and error. Oz first asked the mysterious ‘Sunshine’ contact on his phone. Whoever they were, they seemed to have a deep enough relationship with Oz that they had called each other for extended periods of time every month.

  Unfortunately, the enigma only responded with a curt:

  [Sorryyyy! I’m busy that dayyy]

  [Please don’t be too maddd lmao]

  So that hadn’t been a possibility. Instead, he found the phone number listed in Lupe’s personal file. But wait! He couldn’t just ask her to attend with him. His pride as both the superior species and superior rank wouldn’t let him. No, especially considering that wretched girl’s personality, she would force him to beg.

  ‘Ugh, I can imagine it already.’ Thought the Jinn, ‘What a brat…’

  She would say some cruel, possible crude order like ‘Bark like a dog every other sentence and maybe I’ll consider it.’. He still needed to prove himself as a position of authority, but that became more and more difficult when she pointed out holes in his modern-day knowledge like ambulances and phones.

  So, instead, Lortum had cunningly lied and framed this endeavour as a mission. Last time she only followed along and then functioned as a driver, showing no interest in the context or backstory of the assignment, he could easily convince someone oblivious like her that the performance was actually some kind of security mission.

  It was ingenious!

  “…Mr Oz?” Asked Primrose from the desk over, “You’re smiling rather widely, it’s kind of… Well, to be blunt, it’s kind of creepy.”

  Lortum’s expression did not change at once.

  That, in itself, was the problem.

  He became aware of the muscles in his face a second too late, the smile lingering in a way that did not feel natural to the body he inhabited. Slowly, deliberately, he adjusted his mouth downward by a few degrees.

  “Is that so,” he replied evenly.

  Primrose did not look convinced. She leaned back slightly in her chair, pen still in hand, watching him with the careful politeness of someone seeing a mildly concerning animal in a professional environment.

  “Yes,” she said. “You look… pleased. In a plotting sort of way.”

  “That is an inaccurate assessment.”

  Luckily it seemed Primrose was not as playful as she usually felt, nor as chatty. Lortum guessed it was because that she was the only other individual in the Senior Agent Office who had come to work on a Sunday afternoon. Other than himself, but that was only because he needed to look through Lupe’s file. Mable was most likely caught up in some kind of overtime work.

  [Make yourself free this Wednesday evening. We have a mission.]

  Ingenious, he reaffirmed internally.

  "So what are you going to do?" Asked Naveah, genuinely curious. Although she had been defending Oz a moment prior, Lupe had no real reason to follow along, mission outside office hours were mandatory... But only if given proper notice. The young Junior was well within her rights to ignore him completely.

  "I'll go." She said resolutely, "After all, I may have something to learn from him, right?"

  Naveah blinked. But then after noticing something, she smiled coyly. Lupe felt a shiver go down her spine in fearful anticipation, apparently rolling over at once had not quite sold the part.

  “…Lupe?” Said Naveah slowly, fighting to keep the tease out of her voice, “I can’t help but notice that the man printed on the ticket also happens to be on your home screen…”

  Lupe slowly turned the phone face-down on her knee.

  “It was a default image,” she replied flatly.

  “It is not.”

  Another pause.

  “…It could have been.”

  Naveah exhaled a quiet laugh, clearly unconvinced. “So, your supervisor invites you to an evening mission involving theatre tickets, and coincidentally the lead performer is already on your home screen.”

  Lupe’s shadow twitched faintly at her feet, mirroring the irritation she refused to show on her face.

  “I fail to see the relevance,” she said.

  “Oh, I see it very clearly,” Naveah replied, resting her chin lightly on her gloved hand. “You are going.”

  “I already said I would.”

  “For professional reasons.”

  “Yes.”

  Naveah’s eyes gleamed. “Of course.”

  Lupe stood up at once.

  The motion was abrupt enough that the empty can gave a metallic clink as she set it aside.

  “This conversation has deviated from its original topic,” she stated. “Sparring feedback has been received. I will now return to my assigned duties.”

  Naveah did not stop her.

  She only watched as the Junior Agent walked away with perfectly measured steps, posture straight, expression unreadable. Honestly, from how often the young Junior brooded and responded with rude jabs, it was tough to remember that she was still only a 19 year old girl. Naveah let herself chuckle.

  “A theatre actor?” She pondered, “What an odd choice for a celebrity crush, there must be a story behind that.”

  ----

  Later that evening, Lupe lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling in complete silence.

  Her phone rested beside her.

  Screen dark.

  Shadow restless.

  After several minutes, she reached over and unlocked it.

  The lock screen illuminated the dim room.

  A theatre poster.

  Elegant.

  Dramatic lighting.

  The lead actor standing beneath falling rain on a ruined stage.

  Her gaze lingered on it for exactly three seconds before she locked the phone again.

  “…It is a mission,” she muttered to herself.

  Her shadow rippled faintly, as if disagreeing.

  Lupe turned onto her side, expression flat once more.

  Still, her fingers hovered near the device.

  Just briefly.

  “…If he embarrasses me,” she added quietly into the darkness, “I will consider it a failed operation.”

  Her shadow gave a silent, approving twitch.