On A Mission

Joséphine Gauthier, 17 years old has a french dad and a brittish mother. But her mother is not really the normal-housewife-mother, not at all. Since the age of 3, Joséphine has received the best practice she could ever have, so that one day, she could do the same job as her mother. I think you got it by now, she is kind of a spy. When you learn that you have a mortal malady, and that you have no choice but to accept all the missions you're offered, the last thing you want to do is to fall in love and get attached.

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2. The SPC

"Josephine? Can I talk to you? This is bad news. "

•••

Everything was black but I could still see someone was pursuing me. I could see snow, why was it so warm?! The sweat was running down my back and my chest, my tee shirt was glued to my skin. Why was he still after me?? I started running, running, nothing else mattered. 

I could hear him scream my name: "Jo! Jo!..." Wait was it really a man? The voice sounded like a wo-

"JO!" my mom yelled in my ears. I nearly jumped out of the bed. How come I'm not surprised?

"MOM! Stop screaming in my ears, it's really annoying!" i said, suddenly clearly awake.

"Well then you'll have to stop sleeping between school and training, you're already late."

"Then when do you expect me to sleep, if it isn't at home?" I said dryly.

"That's your problem, not mine, now get up, if you don't want your dad to get mad!" she said half worried half nervous.

The place were I trained was officially called the London Training Center for National Defence Agents (LTCNDA), but no one said that. Us agents often called it the SPC, the Sweat and Pain Center.

"Right..." i said getting up, and putting some blue sweatpants and a black tanktop on. I went down the huge marble stairs I hated so much, don't ask me why. I put my outworn black Converses and military-like jacket on and got out in the cold january-wind and the snow. We had moved in a huge white house a couple of years ago, so that i could be nearer to the SPC.

I had almost arrived to the huge, ugly building that I had seen too many times. I was standing in front of the door now, waiting for the security to recognise my face trough the camera and let me in.

I got in and went to the locker-room where my uniform was waiting. It consisted in some yellow sports shorts, a grey cotton tee-shirt and a yellow and grey hoodie. I checked the hour on my phone. Great, already late. I ran to the gymnasium as fast as I could. I was fucked.

"Joséphine? Can I talk to you? This is bad news." I heard my coach say from behind me. Great, just great.

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