"God, if I didn't miss something about working out of the country it was this.", you hit the metal door of the helicopter that was about to land on an airfield, not far away from city lights that shone through the rainy night. "I fucking hate flying..."
Across from you sat Russell, dressed in civilian clothes, a light brown leather jacket, a blue shirt underneath and some disgustingly beige pants.
It wasn't rare that he was forced to look like a normal guy, but the shades and the way he styled his hair gave away how much America was running through his veins.
Looking at him made you smirk in amusement.
Your eyes jumped to the man sitting next to him. Bell, or at least that was the name that the CIA had chosen for him. His real name was confidential, but the fact that he was a brainwashed Russian was enough to work with. He was supposed to work as a spy while Adler slowly but surely drained the information necessary out of him.
The CIA had been smart with his choice of outfit, mainly tactical gear and a ski mask that hid his face to prevent anyone who could see him from recognising certain features.
With a smile, you offered him a hand.
"I think we didn't introduce each other yet?", you said and gave him a firm handshake. "The name's (Y/N)."
"Bell.", he said in a voice that wasn't too low nor too high and gave you a nod of the head.
He didn't seem very talkative, you noted to yourself. That usually meant two kinds of possibilities. Option one, he wasn't comfortable yet and would open up as soon as he was getting warm with everyone.
That would be the easier option. Option two would be that he didn't like talking in general and also didn't enjoy socialising. In that case you would need quite some effort to get anything out of him.
Either way, it was your job to keep an eye on him and make sure that the brainwash didn't wear off. That would be the worst case scenario.
As the helicopter landed, you were the first to jump out and shake your legs.
"Holy shit.", you sighed and stretched. "I hate flying. Makes my bones feel like jelly."
Adler lit a cigarette and gestured towards an old warehouse that was a small walk away.
"That's it.", he said and took a drag. "E9. Welcome to West Berlin, Bell."
You crossed your arms in front of your chest and eyed it for a moment.
A woman was standing in front of the entrance.
Her black hair was only visible thanks to a lamp that was lit next to her. She must have been Park, the MI6 specialist.
Even if he would have never admitted it out loud, Adler was more picky with the women on his team than with the men. Most of them served conventionally manly tasks, such as shooting people and fixing machines.
But even he couldn't argue that a woman did the communication jobs better than a man.
"Doesn't look too bad.", you threw a glance over your shoulder to spot a movement in the shadows, next to the building.
But the person, whoever it was, was gone before you could get close enough to recognise details.
Adler turned to Bell again.
"We've got a job to do.", he said and gave you a nod.
The trigger phrase was quite simple, but good enough to do the job. You would have picked something else, but brainwashing wasn't necessarily your field of work. You liked to be called a manipulator instead. It sounded less abusive.
As the woman noticed the three of you approach, she stood up straight and knocked harshly against the gate so that it would be opened from the inside.
"Park.", Adler greeted her with a nod of his head.
"Adler. Bell.", she crossed her arms in front of her chest and eyed you. "Long time no see."
You frowned.
This woman was a complete stranger to you.
"Do we know each other?", you asked and eyed her for a moment from top to bottom. "Apologies if it slipped my mind."
Smirking, she shook her head.
"We've never met.", her eyes jumped to Bell. "Nice to meet you too."
He nodded.
"Nice to meet you.", he said out of politeness and followed Adler inside.
But you hesitated. Confused, you let out a huff and turned to her.
"Then tell me, why do you know me?", you smiled to show her that this wasn't a matter of feeling attacked but rather pure curiosity. "I wouldn't forget a face like yours. Did we ever see each other in the halls?"
Again, she shook her head.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I just head so many stories about you, I forgot we aren't friends.", she offered you a hand. "Helen Park. But just call me Park, for the job."
You nodded and shook her hand.
"(Y/N)."
Her eyebrows rose in surprise.
"You're really using your first name?"
You shrugged.
"Sure. It's not like anything could happen as long as the wrong people don't have my full name. Plus, if the CIA can find out who you are with just a pic of your face, nothing really matters anyways."
A grin appeared on her pretty face.
"Someone puts trust in the people we work for."
"Ah, don't say that. I trust them. All I'm saying is that it would be useless to call myself by a code name. In the end, the people we work with will give me nicknames anyways. Or eventually ask for the real one."
Agreeing, she hummed. Her blue eyes looked you up and down before she stepped aside and offered you to enter.
"Amazing...", she said and entered with you.
You smirked.
"What?", you asked and gave a gentle bump to the shoulder.
"Nothing. It's just amazing how the stories I've heard describe you perfectly."
Chuckling, you nodded.
"Now you make me curious. Who's talking about me, eh? I know a lot of people, but you sound like it's someone who knows me very well."
She fell silent for a moment.
"He said you two are good friends.", she finally said.
"I'd sure say so.", a familiar voice suddenly said.