146 A New Enemy

“Maybe they have,” Nikki said. “And they haven’t figured out much yet.”

“But Ortega seemed surprised though,” Malachi said, as we were sitting in the middle of the room on one of the benches as we talked. “I mean I could believe he’d be surprised if someone told him they knew about one of the people in his cabinet being a mole.”

“But no one did,” I muttered, as we were all thinking about this. “No one told him that there was a mole in his cabinet.”

“So-hmm-maybe Ortega’s the mole,” Tisiah said, as he came out of the training room. He was carrying a bag and seemed really happy about something.

“What?” I asked as Tisiah walked towards us and put his bag down in front of us on the bench we were sitting on. “Yeah, for sure. He clearly could’ve acted and pretended to be surprised,” Tisiah said, as he sat down and took out a couple of books from his bag and began to look through them.

“But that would mean he’s working against us!” Malachi said with wide eyes. “Exactly,” September clarified, looking concerned at Malachi. “But he gave Mr. Drails all the files though, so how would it be?” I asked, looking at them with concern.

“Well he’s not trying to help us,” Malachi said with a frown.

“Why else would he give all the files?” Nikki said. “I don’t think he’s bad.”

“Me neither,” I said, convinced, but still worried.

.....

“He could’ve wanted us to figure it out ourselves,” Nikki suggested as Tisiah began to look at me from over his books. “That would be probably the most idiotic action ever,” Malachi said. “The man could’ve gave every folder except his own. He definitely has his own folder.”

“But I’m positive every spy mage organization has info on someone,” Nikki said. “How do we know some things about them?” Malachi shrugged, “I’m sold on my claim.”

“Well it depends on what Mr. Drails once he looks over those folders,” I said. “Otherwise all these theories are just vapor.”

“I think I that’s why they’re called theories,” Malachi said. Nikki sighed, “No duh-Sherlock!”

“Okay, we are getting way too heated about this, we’re supposed to be working together as an actual group,” she said. “Let’s get ourselves together-can we please?” I nodded, but I don’t think Ortega is working against us. At least I don’t think so. If he was, who knows how much of the EMO organizations are compromised. Out of the whole EMO, FMA and us could be the only trustworthy agencies!

But all of a sudden, one of those guys who were on the computer-connecting us to see the entire thing-came in. “Mr. Drails wants you guys,” he said, his voice soft and quiet. That’s something new I guess.

Excitement and wonder shone through my body as we approached the room, where Mr. Drails was waiting for us as we entered the room, and sat on the chair in the middle of the room. Mr. Drails seemed more serious now as he looked around the room.

But up on the wall was someone we’ve seen before: that one classy lady with brown curly hair with a white jacket, a black skirt, a white-buttoned shirt that was tucked into her skirt, and the black shoes.

“This everyone-is our mole. Maddie Cone,” he said, looking at all of us in the eye and continued to talk, “She’s our mole.”

“Oh,” Tisiah said as he put his hands together. Mr. Drails nodded, “She is also the person in charge of taking over Charlie. Here’s how I know. Me and others have looked into the files. She was actually the second-in-commander under Ortega, and based on her files, she is one of the finest agents in the BMO.”

“And bougie,” Nikki added, smiling at me as she winked.

“Yeah, but that’s not the worst part,” Mr. Drails continued to say, as I noticed a file that had been opened and read over before coming back to her again, “the worst part is that-based on her files-she’s also a skilled assassin. She has killed numerous of people with high authority.”

“Oh, so like the President?” I asked, and looked at Tisiah, who shook his head with a smile.

“No,” Mr. Drails answered me, “she’s killed people at the CEO level and above. But she has the skill to do so to a president, but it would just bring too much attention to them.” I nodded. “So how do we find her?” I asked.

“Well, that’s also easy,” he said. “Ortega tapped into their plane ticket, and they’ve been scheduled to leave in five days. Being tomorrow is Friday, we can get there and get Masaru Kin to safety before they attack.”

“But we don’t even know his location,” I said, “and that will be really hard.”

“Yes, but we’ll have to try to get him to safety,” he replied, as I nodded.

“And how will we do that?” September asked.

“We’ll try and see his grandfather’s owned houses, and we could find him there,” Mr. Drails said, “but that’s just my suggestion.”

“I like it,” I said, “because I’m pretty sure we have enough time before they attack.” Mr. Drails nodded and then continued, “That’s it for today, but tomorrow, we’re going to save Masaru Kin. Alright?”

“Yes, sir!”

***

Soon enough, the day at the YMPA ended and I found myself brought back into the silent neighborhood once again. Who knew silence would be so calming, and I could listen to it all day-if you could even listen to silence.

I knocked on the door, and soon enough, the door opened as I walked in. “Hello, my baby,” she greeted, kissing me on the forehead as I laughed. Something about mom’s, it’s just funny.

“Hey, so um-I wanted to ask you a question,” I said. Her eyes narrowed into thought, as if I was going to say like I accidentally assaulted someone to the hospital bed.

Cough, Cough.

“Hey, um, Mom,” I said, looking at her and taking a seat on the sofa near the door. “So, what if your friend changed or was something different like that, or maybe just was-I don’t know-depressed.”

“Well, I’d say stay away from them,” she said. “You don’t want your day to be affected by that one person.” I nodded. “But what if that person is your only friend though, and your day is better because of them?”

Mom sighed, as she sat down.

“You know, the problem these days is finding the right friends. Imagine you were friends with someone who liked to drink or mess around, not focus on what’s important. You’ll be affected, you’d want their life,” she said. “Trust me, find a new friend that will help you in school, help you in your future as is a good example.”

“But I’m too nervous to do that,” I said.

She chuckled. “You know how I found your dad? I was walking around in college, feeling lonely because my other friends had boyfriends and their significant others. I assure you, in college, everyone is looking for everybody. So I was in one class, and I saw this man: a man who sat by another friend and only that other friend, who was in my row of chairs.”

She scooted closer to me, as if she wanted to make it more emphasizing by being only two inches away from me.

“I kind of liked him, and he was not a bad-looking man, so I walked up to him. And-” she laughed between and then backslid into a little chuckle-“I still remember my first words with him: Hi, I like your shirt.”

I chuckled a bit after hearing that. Then she turned to me and said, “One thing about making friends, is to talk about something that relates to both of you guys. It helps you understand each other, and know what each other is like. Your dad was a person that couldn’t make me stop laughing. He was broad, strong, handsome and to me-a angel in a wrestler’s body. And look where my courage to move got us: with you.”

I smiled, as she kissed me once again in the forehead, but this time it felt more personal. “It’s not about not finding a friend, it’s about finding the perfect friend,” she said. “There are many more that can relate to you. You just need to find them. Now go change so that you can eat.”

As soon as she got up, a bulb in my brain electrified, and I immediately knew who the man in college she was referencing to.

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