Breaking the Rules
Edward Masen was the perfect spy. He was intelligent, fast, dashing. Oh, and being immortal helped a lot, too. Vampires run the show at the most elite spy agency in the world. What happens when someone finds out what they are and knows how to destroy them? Very AU.
I KNOW! Don't tell me, for I know what you are thinking. ANOTHER STORY?! We're still waiting for updates on that one you left on a cliffhanger MONTHS AGO! Welp, I write what I want to write, and I wanted to write a spy story :) I hope you like it.
Rating 5/5 Word Count 2019 Review this Chapter
Being a spy is dangerous. Being a spy that also happens to be a vampire is even more dangerous. There are more rules than when you're a normal human spy, and the consequences for breaking those rules tend to always end in death. There were no relocation programs for the vampire spy that had made too big a mess... It was straight into the incinerator with you.
And, of course, being recruited by the one vampire spy agency on the planet was something you had to say yes to... even if you didn't want to. If you said no, well, once again, straight into the incinerator with you. Just knowing that The Organization existed was too much knowledge to walk away with.
Knowing it existed was the reason I was perched on top of a multi-million dollar house in the Hamptons. We were a freelance spy agency. We didn't work for any government, and we weren't created for any specific organization. We were freelance workers, if you will. We sent our people where the money was, and in the Hamptons there was certainly a lot of it.
Of course, going where the money was didn't suck. Because of our rich client base, we were the most high-tech spy agency on the planet. Nothing could penetrate our defenses... which is why rigging a mansion to explode would be a piece of cake.
The Target – A man in his late thirties named Richard Taylor. He had made his money through years of dealing high-end weapons to very, very wealthy clients. And by high-end weapons, I mean very illegal weapons. He had men working in every major airport making sure he could ship his weapons all over the world without a second glance. He didn't have any family, so I wouldn't have to worry about hurting anyone that didn't have to be hurt.
The Client – The U.S. Government... unofficially, anyway. There was no solid proof on the guy, and even though it was blatantly obvious by those who knew what to look for, nothing could be done about him. The U.S. Court system wouldn't convict the guy, Mr. Illegal would know they were after him and flee the country, and the U.S. would lose the chance to catch the guy causing them quite a lot of problems.
That's where I came in. I get in, booby-trap his house, get the hell out of there, and the government conveniently forgets that I was ever in the country at all.
I dropped from the roof and landed on his perfectly manicured lawn. A few yards away, the grass stopped abruptly and the sand began. A nice beach front property in the Hamptons was usually one of the most heavily guarded places on the East Coast when it was home to someone as cautious as good ol' Richard.
I scanned the perimeter quickly. There were cameras everywhere, without a single blindspot. An alarm system that carried quite the hefty price tag was surely connected to every entrance...
I spotted my way in instantly. There was a massive sliding glass door that faced the ocean. I knew that I was not going to open it. Doing so would set off the alarm. No, I was going to have to go through it.
I ran to the door. I spotted a camera and made sure I smiled and winked, just to spice things up for whoever got to see it before it was destroyed, and then punched a hole right through the door. I was in as soon as the glass stopped falling.
Of course, that's when my problems started. As soon as I set foot on the carpet in front of me, I heard a click. If there was one thing I did not want to hear, it was a click.
“Gotcha, Masen,” said a voice, a female voice, just before I heard the distinct sound of a detonator going off.
Rule Number One For Vampire Spies – Don't, under any circumstances, be near fire.
It's obvious, really. Fire and vampires do not mix. So when you are sent into a trap where something is detonating, you know you need to get the hell out of there before you're reduced to a pile of ash.
As soon as the “gotcha” left her lips, I turned and ran. I made it all the way to the edge of the grass before the entire house exploded. I was hurled towards the ocean, with a massive wave of fire right behind me. I had never been so grateful for water in my life.
As soon as I smacked into the water, I started to swim. I had to be far away from that house. Any type of burning debris would spell the end for Edward Masen.
While I swam as fast as I possibly could, I committed that voice to memory. It didn't sound like the person was in the room with me, and I didn't smell anything or read any minds aside from Richard's, and his stopped right after the explosion. There must have been a speaker in the room.
When I was more than far enough away, I surfaced. The house was nothing more than a pretty, glimmering blob in the distance.
On my belt was a pager especially designed for the very few vampire spies in the world. It was water-proof, bullet-proof, and had a handy thermometer that sent a signal to headquarters whenever things got a little too toasty, just to let them know we were probably fried. I pushed a button and ten minutes later I was picked up by a helicopter that had been awaiting my call. Inside, there was a note.
The job was done, but not by you? Interesting. I think we have to talk.
I clenched my teeth and tried not to punch a hole in the side of the helicopter. Nobody “had a talk” with Carlisle and ever faired well afterwards.
My cellphone, made by the same handy people that made my pager, buzzed in my pocket.
I flipped it open. “Talk,” I commanded. Anyone who had the number knew that I wasn't going to screw around with any sort of greeting.
“My, you have a way with words,” said Jasper, another spy that worked for The Organization. “I heard you were cooked.” Word traveled fast at work. For a group of the best spooks in the world, it was hard to keep things quiet.
“Almost. I have had that place staked out for weeks, and I swear, it would have been impossible to sneak those explosives in there.”
Jasper laughed. “And they say you're the best.”
“And would you have survived with less than a second to escape?” I asked bitterly. Walking straight into a trap did not put me into the best of moods.
Jasper was quiet for a moment. “Well, I probably will not be in that situation, because I actually notice when people are rigging houses to explode.”
I didn't reply. I heard something on the line... something unusual. I knew Jasper must have heard it, too, because he didn't comment on my lack of a comeback.
“Are you breathing?” I asked.
“Not at all,” he replied.
“It's bugged. Kill it,” I commanded sharply.
Without another word, I snapped my phone closed and crushed it in my hand. The good thing about having specially trained helicopter pilots was that they weren't even phased when you opened the door mid-flight. I threw open the door and threw the phone as far into the ocean as I could. When a phone is bugged, there's nothing you can do but destroy it. Someone was listening to Jasper and I talk...
I knew we were getting close to headquarters when I could no longer see any land. Our main “office” was located on, or under actually, a small island right in the middle international waters. We were miles away from any shipping lanes, and you couldn't spot us from the air unless you were really, really looking.
The pilot landed expertly on a helipad just a few feet larger than the helicopter itself. It was the only way to easily access the island, and even then it was extremely difficult. Our pilots were specially trained, both to fly and keep their traps shut about where they flew.
From the helipad, there was an elevator that went down ten floors. Our entire headquarters was a sprawling, underground fortress. It was something that seemed totally impossible if you didn't know that it could exist. Like I said, having more money and better technology than anyone else really did have it's advantages.
Carlisle was waiting for me when the doors opened. He was smiling. “Edward! You've had quite the adventure tonight, haven't you?”
All around us, people were bustling about. They were carrying anything from paperwork on getting a new PA system, to highly explosive C4. Conversations about the Laker game were mixing with conversations about who had the most headshots. It was an odd place to be, Headquarters.
“A little more adventure that I had bargained for, I suppose,” I replied.
“Come, we need to talk,” said Carlisle. He turned and strode towards his office. Carlisle was a man that nobody ever really understood. He was always cheerful, happy, and was actually reluctant to kill people if they didn't absolutely have to die. Of course, he was also very good at finding reasons to kill people... he was a man who was smart with his who he chose to bestow his compassion on.
When he opened the door to his office, he walked straight to his desk. He had a speaker set up. He gestured for me to sit in the chair in front of his desk before pushing play.
The sound of glass shattering filled the room and then, “Gotcha, Masen.” A moment later, the sound of an explosion and then a splash.
“Who was that woman, Edward?” questioned Carlisle, folding his hands on his desk.
I looked at the wall, looking as uninterested as I possibly could. I didn't want to make him think I was nervous... I wasn't, even though he could have me fried right then and there. “I don't know. She wasn't in the room with me. I didn't smell her, I couldn't read her mind. She must have seen me on the cameras.”
Carlisle scowled. “Edward, how many times do I have to tell you not to ham it up for the cameras!”
“How else am I supposed to make it exciting?” I exclaimed.
“You are a spy! How much more excitement do you need?” he asked incredulously. "And the fact that they had your phone bugged... how careless can you be? What, did you just leave it lying around?”
“That is not my fault. They could have hacked wirelessly, or it could have been Jasper's phone!”
Carlisle closed his eyes. “At least the target was destroyed. We will still be getting the money in the mail, and that's all that really matters. The problem is, you weren't the one to destroy the target, which technically means we don't get the money if the client finds out.
“They won't find out,” I assured him.
Carlisle smirked. “Because obviously the people who really blew up the house aren't in it for our money.”
I bit my lip. Lashing out at Carlisle would be my own barbecue.
“You have one more chance. I don't need the integrity of the entire Organization compromised, do you hear me? There's a party in France next week being thrown by a very wealthy duke. He has hired you to do some bodyguard work.”
I growled. “Bodyguard work?”
Carlisle grinned. “Reminds you of the good old days, before you did the important jobs, does it? I figured as much. It seems you need to be refreshed on how we do business here. Now go.”
I stood up, careful not to break anything. I was infuriated. Bodyguard work was for the lowest of the low. I wanted to throw the chair right at Carlisle's head.
Rule Number Two For Vampire Spies – Don't, under any circumstances, throw things at your boss.