Spy Mage System
Chapter 232

232 Update

I was now back in California, with the next mission in mind: Get to Greg’s house. I have never been to his house this many times before, but here we are I guess.

After approaching his door, I knocked. Soon enough, Greg’s mom opened the door. And I found myself in awe of her extensive height.

“Hi...” I greeted once again. She said nothing and left it open, which I guessed meant that I could walk in. Slowly, I made my way inside of his house. Once she went upstairs, I approached the living room.

Greg looked up and saw me, and quickly gestured for me to come quickly. I did, and took a seat that was by the counter.

“Okay,” Greg said. “So, what’s happened so far?” “Well, we figured out where Lock is going,” I said. “And how Luthor Bane looks.”

“Oh...” Greg said with his eyes widened. “What does he look like?”

“Like those models in those high school movies,” I described. “Pretty boy.” Greg seemed to be quite interested, but he returned back to his computer and turned it on.

“So, where’s he protecting Lock at?” he asked.

“Saudi Arabia,” I responded.

.....

Greg’s eyes widened-although much wider this time-and even a smile followed as well. “Well, well, well. He’s gonna have some fun isn’t he?” he said with an excited chuckle.

“Not when we start piling in,” I said to him. “He’s gonna have less of a good time for sure. Now, what else have you-well, has Fulton-found about my father.”

Greg was silent for a long moment. “Well-well...he has found something, technically. Em... yeah. But, he hasn’t.”

“Can you try and not speak random parables here?” I asked him. He nodded quickly, before he opened his mouth once again, now ready to speak.

“He has found something, but you have to replace it,” he said. Confusion blasted into my mind. What does he mean ‘replace it?’

“Is this some sort of game?” I asked Greg. He shook his head, “I don’t believe so, I don’t. Let me say it in a better way. He has a theory, and he needs you to prove it.”

“How?” I asked, starting to understand Greg’s complicated wording.

“Pretty simple. You don’t need to follow your father, but you do need to follow one YMPA agent.” He reached into his backpack, getting out his folder as he handed it over to me.

I opened it, seeing a girl that looked Cuban, or at least of Cuban descent.

“Anne Denver,” Greg said. “A seventeen year old spy that graduated very early for her empowering performance as an agent.”

“Wow,” I said. “How early?”

“Fifteen.”

“Oh,” I said, now starting to feel a bit intimidated. “That’s earlier than me.”

“Well she started when she was thirteen, so she had two years, unlike you who has had almost a year at best,” Greg said.

“And yet it feels as if a lot has happened,” I said, as memories flushed through my head. “Nonetheless, continue on.”

“Yes, she is of Cuban descent, as you can see clearly here,” he said. So why does she have such a normal name?

“Well, she has quite the American name,” I said. “Anne...very simple.”

“I would say the last name is none like Cuban descent. So just to clear things up, that is not her real name. It’s meant to keep any spies away from approaching her family. Her real name is Ariana Alvaro and she’s of Cuban descent.”

I nodded and continued to read over the file of Anne Denver. She had black hair that went down to her ribs, but not straight down; it was curly. She was about five feet and six inches tall, but not exactly thin and not exactly heavy; she was just about average in terms of height and weight for someone of seventeen years old.

She had very light brown eyes that sparkled in certain lighting as well as her black hair that was always pulled back into a bun or ponytail. She also had a long face with very small lips that were just barely parted enough to reveal a very straight white teeth that made her very beautiful indeed. Her eyebrows were also thick, but not bushy as I would expect them to be, and they seemed to be constantly furrowed. Her nose was rather small, and her chin was very delicate in shape as well as her cheeks seemed to have no defined curves or wrinkles whatsoever.

“Wow...” I said. “So, why is she important?”

“Because, she’s getting the next thing that Mr. Drails needs,” Greg said. “It was the first mission you had.”

“The Armonk?” I asked him, which now the memories were really hitting me, even though it felt as if they had only happened yesterday. I shook my head and continued reading through her file again as Greg spoke on.

“Yes, the Armonk. That was when you found out that your friend-me, of course-was actually your brother,” he said with a smile that hit me real good, and I could only help but smile back at him. “So, we-I need to follow her how, exactly?” I questioned, still looking at her file, which was starting to become concerning. “Greg, she doesn’t seem like much.”

“She will be able to lead us to the location,” Greg said in an excited tone, which made me a little bit concerned about what he was getting at. “Does she have it in her possession?” I asked, but Greg shrugged, and answered my question.

“No. But we do have ways to get it from her,” he said, while giving me a strange look with his eyes wide and his eyebrows raised. “Interrogation, torture, blackmail... many things can make people do what we want.”

“So basically, she has the location of the Armonk,” I said, which this time, he nodded. “Yes,” he finally revealed. “We do.”

“Alright then,” I said with a sigh as I continued to look at her file. “When do we start following her?”

“Tomorrow, and once you do happen to replace a time to get her, then we’ll get the location,” he said. I stuttered. “But I can’t do torture, or blackmail or any sort of interrogation.” He chuckled, then pointed at himself. “That’s why I’ll be there,” he said. “I’ll be the one to do it.”

“I... I don’t like the idea of it,” I said. “I mind interrogation or torture or anything, so the idea of doing something like that... no.”

“Well, if you don’t mind me saying so,” Greg started to say, “you are a terrible person.”

“What?” I said quickly. “Why?”

“Well,” he began, “you’re afraid of getting dirty or getting blood on your hands. But if you don’t mind me saying so, that’s not how we do things in our world.”

“Do we really have to do all that stuff though?” I asked, feeling my heart race. “Maybe we can interrogate her without hurting her, at the least.”

“And if she says no?” Greg asked.

“We can bluff,” I said, with an embarrassed chuckle, before realizing that this was real life and I needed to be a spy for real.

“Oh...” Greg said with a sigh. “Well, that’s not how things work here. We don’t really have a choice.”

“Well, I won’t do it,” I said with a huff and a pout.

“Yes you will,” Greg said with a grin on his face that seemed like it would break his face apart. “Trust me, you’ll do fine.” I looked at him, and I gave him a very mean eye. But he didn’t seem to care at the slightest bit, not even close. “Okay then.”

“And what are we going to do about this?” I asked, pointing at his shirt, where a tear had formed right in the middle of it. It was a bit small in size, but it was very noticeable and seemed to have ruined his clothes.

“Oh... this?” he asked as he looked at his shirt. “Thanks for telling me.”

I chuckled as he got up from his seat and went upstairs. I could only think of what was just happening. The spy mage world is a bazaar of magic, power, and mystery. This is only the tip of the iceberg, and the ice is getting deeper and deeper each day.

Suddenly, Greg came down from the stairs in a matter of seconds, with a new shirt. It was a gray shirt, almost navy in color and it was much larger than his old one. He threw it on and tied his sleeves into place, then he turned around and looked at me. “You look nervous, are you still thinking about that?” he asked.

I had the feeling of shaking my head, but I did nothing at all, so he must have been right. “Yes, I am,” I admitted, which caused him to start laughing at me, which made me feel extremely uncomfortable.

“You’re so funny,” he said to me as he sat back down. “You’re always so funny.”

“Yeah...I guess,” I said, super confused. “How, exactly?” But he didn’t respond, but only started wheezing more like a fan, until it reached the point where he had to start breathing again after taking in air. He had gone off into another world. He was so far out of the room that he wasn’t even here anymore; it was like he had disappeared into thin air.

I decided not to say anything else to him and waited for him to come back down, which was not too long after that. “I’ll help you, how about that?” he said, which I nodded immediately, with no thought at all. “Yeah,” I said. “Definitely.”