Working Overtime

Hanna

Hanna kept a semi-watchful eye on the party that engulfed her. As far as corporate gigs go, it paid extremely well- which might have meant something, if not for the extremely low crime rate at an event like this. She had done some research before showing up that night; the boss was a well-known CEO, famous on the tip of the iceberg, and infamous just below the waters. Maybe we’ll get some action tonight. Hanna knew that wishing for a crime to commence was probably at least partially immoral, but hey, it was a living.

Agent M.

M. made his way towards the bathroom, always a first-stop for the aging contractor. Agent M. was not normally known in the H.P.A. for his work at corporate gigs. In fact, M. himself absolutely despised occasions like this one. It’s the reason he always wore the white suit, something just to add some Bond-esque flair. Besides, he was only in this situation now because he felt himself to be on somewhat of a roll with his contracts lately, with a record-breaking fifteen target protections in a month. His last gig was an exemplary model for the Hit Protection Agency, though it was often a sore spot for M. that the Slovenian ambassador never thanked him for keeping him alive. Either way, little of that mattered now, especially not to a man in line to be the agency’s next commissioner.

Marshall

Marshall was the first to approach the food table, now lined with slices of chocolate cake, equally distributed, as if they were a single slice repeated. Snatching one from the front, Marshall rushed towards the bathroom, slice in hand, ready to enact his plan. Dabbing himself dry with paper towels, Marshall questioned the success of his mission. Now believing the plan had already gone awry, he reluctantly sprinkled the poison powder over the cake, ruminating over his ability to escape undetected. It was too late, though, as he continued to pour out the powder onto the cake in front of him. Just as he put the vial back into his coat pocket, a familiar face walked past him. Now, he thought, now it’s over.

Theo

At the same time, Theo took Marshall’s absence to swipe his own slice of cake, seeking another safe location to enact his plan. Finding an empty office room far from the action, Theo took the vial out and spritzed the cake with the poison powder. Before he could empty the powder over the slice, the bureau-issued burner phone pulled his focus away. Theo grimaced, believing that events like this ruined his tempo. Offering a quick look over his shoulder, Theo stepped away from the slice, facing the window outside, studying the getaway car he had parked just out front. The call was unremarkable, at least judging by the amount of information that stayed in Theo’s head for longer than thirty seconds. His boss warned that they’d be calling Marshall too, and that the two boys needed to stay in the loop. Hanging up the phone, Theo turned back around to his slice of cake, failing to notice the shadow move past the hallway outside.

Hanna

As Hanna began to question the ethics of starting crimes just to stop them, she noticed the two out-of-place figures rush towards the cake table, each stealing a piece in a different direction. Noticing that one of them made their way towards an open, empty office room, she followed suit, mostly curious in his behavior. Rounding the corner, She saw the man dust a slice of cake with some unknown powder, before getting distracted by a phone call. Hiding her genuine excitement, Hanna approached the cake on the table, as quietly as she could move with the heavy shifting fabric of her uniform. No vial, no trace, that’s not a good sign. The man at the window spoke in depth about how he’d be leaving the party tonight, the car, and about someone else who was likely at the party. Marshall… that must be the other one. Hanna instead swapped her slice with his, hoping to avoid causing a scene at the highest-paying gig of her freelance career.

Marshall

Marshall stood next to the mysteriously white-clad man, both watching the mirror intently. While their business together was brief, the two men had undoubtedly met before this moment; after all, their respective career fields were notoriously understaffed. With neither one willing to expose themselves, they stood in silence. Still seeking to cover any suspicion, Marshall took a quick trip to the air-dryer to remove some of the more soaking spots on his attire, and then rushed back outside. He fingered his pockets for the vial of poison, now empty, and decided to employ his backup plan. The perspiring agent, seeking to remove at least a portion of the pressure and suspicion, hastily switched out his slice of cake with the one on the table just in front of him.

Daria

Daria turned around, confirming at least one of her suspicions, taking note of the man in white swapping a piece of cake for another. Never one to steer from an interrogation, Daria charged upon the white-clad man, hoping to at least find something to entertain her.

“What’re you doing?” Daria preferred to keep her questions simple. The man didn’t respond immediately, obviously hoping she’d just go away if he ignored her. It was clear that neither of these people knew who they were dealing with.

“Look, if you don’t tell me, I’m gonna tell the guy you’re swapping slices with,” Daria pointed towards Marshall. It seemed she’d gotten through to the older gentleman. Just as he sighed, and began to explain himself, she decided to establish some ethos with him. Thrusting her hand out towards him, the man looked mortified, adopting a fighting stance. That’s not normal, she chuckled while she introduced herself to the man. She could hardly focus herself now, only picking up keywords as she searched his face and suit for anything betraying her trust. Agent Radford, poison cake, whatever. The enthusiastic woman hoped her perturbed expression concealed her excitement. She let the agent finish, thanked him, and turned around with her cake clutched to her chest. If someone’s up to something, I should probably let Hanna know.

Agent M.

M. knew this wasn’t the time to distract Marshall, and fighting the man would’ve put some serious damage into his still-perfect suit. Chuckling, the aging spy left the bathroom, now focused on separating his opponent and his cake. He found Marshall only a few steps outside of the bathroom, looking as sweaty and concerned as ever. The man’s nervous glances were cut short by a phone call, something that, as M. knew extremely well, wasn’t normally a good sign for a man mid-hit. Seizing this opportunity, M. stepped in quickly to retrieve Marshall’s slice of cake, if not for the meddling girl who had spotted him first. He settled himself back into his character, and evened out his shoulders to address the woman.

“Look. I don’t know why you’re asking, or who you are, but-” M. was cut short just as the woman shot out her hand towards him, anticipating a shake. M. recoiled, preparing his stance for a fight, but the woman was unfazed.

“I’m Daria,” the woman answered resolutely. “Pleasure. Your turn, sir.”

M. was never one to give his name freely, and was often reluctant to even offer an alias. But this woman wouldn’t let it go. Here’s another one lost to a nosy victim, he sighed.

“Agent J. Radford. We’ve gotten word that someone plans to poison these slices of cake, and I was sent to apprehend that person. You cannot tell a soul about this, or I will have you arrested. Is that clear?”

The woman nodded in clear, obvious delight. She turned on her heel and left, allowing M. to sneak his potent cure onto the slice that he now believed was poisoned. Only one shot, I hope it’s this one. M. joked, knowing that the cure, by itself, was just as deadly.

Hanna

Daria had approached Hanna once again, with a strangely excited look on her face. Hanna’s own expression revealed her concerns over the slice of cake she now held in her hands. Relatively unknown to each of them, both of these slices were poisoned.

“Hey, so, the white-dressed guy? He’s an agent. Said there was a poisoned slice at the party, and that he had just dissolved the poison. Crazy, right?” Daria could hardly contain her joy at the news, but Hanna was more than perturbed by it. An agent? Why wouldn’t they tell me? She already held immediate concerns about the older gentleman, but he clearly wasn’t a spy. Without a word to Daria, she charged towards the ‘agent’, who sat now in the center of the crowd.

Theo

Marshall found Theo in the crowd, having trouble keeping his perspiration down in the shifting masses of partygoers.

“We have a problem,” Marshall yelled over the soft-pop playlist. “I lost my slice!”

Theo, too, felt that there was a problem with the plan. As confident as he was that he still held the poison slice, Theo couldn’t help but point out Agent M., who stood nearby. “We have two problems, then!”

The two men rushed towards Agent M., but instead found the security guard. Nearby, the woman who had hung around the guard approached M., which only furthered the duo’s concern. For the first time all night, all five people held the same perspective; This is not a good sign.

Everyone

In the back room, five slices of cake captivated the attention of five distinct characters. Hanna led the interrogation, beginning with Agent M.

“Look. I know you’re not an agent. You need to prove to me that you’re clean.” Hanna rested her hand over the pistol at her hip.

Agent M. had never been put in this position, in his 45 years on the job. Whatever step he took next, would be completely off the books.

“Okay, okay. I’m not a real agent. But I do plan on saving your boss. That’s who these two,” -M.’s hands were thrust in Theo’s direction- “planned on poisoning. But I cured the slice! That’s what Daria saw.”

Hanna remained motionless. After several seconds of thought, she pointed at the slice in front of her. “If you saved it, you’d have no problem eating it, right?”

M. felt more than confident in that regard. Hoping to waste no more time, the agent hastily shoved a portion of his cake into his mouth, taking no time for a second thought. Marshall and Theo glanced at each other, mostly in curiosity and confusion.

It was at this moment that M. slumped over towards the floor, foaming at the mouth, hissing and grabbing towards the air. Nobody reacted, at first; Daria was the first to respond, covering her mouth in genuine horror, sinking to the floor with a scream. “What just happened!” Daria began to break down on the floor. Hanna’s worst fears legitimized, she turned towards the other two boys. She pointed at Theo, recognizing his behavior more than Marshall’s; “You’re next.”

Theo stepped towards the four remaining slices at the table. He recognized his own, avoiding it, looking for the piece Marshall had held onto. They were indistinguishable. Closing his eyes, taking a random piece, Theo grabbed a piece from the table. Eyes still closed, Theo took a small portion from the edge of the cake, placing it carefully onto his tongue.

As Theo laid lifeless on the floor, Marshall cowered over his body. Sweat and tears rained down on Theo, while Hanna kept her gun trained over Marshall. He cried, towards nobody in particular, outshining Daria’s discomfort in the situation. Hanna stood at the center of the room, waiting for the authorities to arrive. This is all I could’ve asked for, she thought.