I'm Just a Girl in the World

Father : What is it Annie?

Daughter : You think I'll cry? I won't cry! My heart will break before I cry! I will go mad.

Operations.

Call from Codename Polaris. Code 122. Will you accept the call, sir?

Yes.

Patching through.

Operations.

Hello.

silence.

It’s Lorna.

silence

Lorna Dane.

silence

Polaris.

I know who you are. Is there a reason you called or are you intending to waste my entire afternoon?

Starbucks is closing stores across the country.

silence

Including mine.

I see.

I can transfer to another store in the city. Fewer hours but.

silence

Should I transfer or look for a new position?

silence

Are you there?

A cover position is one of the requirements of the program.

I know – you have no opinion on this?

silence

Sir – Magneto – what are the plans for my future? I’d like to declare a major this year.

A cover position is one of the requirements of the program.

Yes, I know. But what if I want my cover position to be something better than serving overpriced specialty coffees? What if I want my cover position to be more than a cover position?

silence

I’d like to declare a Journalism major.

silence

Sir – Magneto – who else am I supposed to ask?

Why do you need an opinion?

I like to pretend I am normal sometimes. I like to pretend when I come across a question I cannot answer I can call up my father and ask for advice.

This call was not coded properly. You will be enrolled in a new recruit coding seminar. I will inform Logan. Transferring.

What? Hello?

Polaris.

Yes?

The Company requires a cover position. Keep your job serving overpriced specialty coffees. If declaring a major in required to retain your status in university do so. End transmission.

Logan. He trained me. He knows exactly what I am capable of and he knows when I am in over my head. Plus, he’s the meanest, sneakiest, most skilled, most dangerous man I have ever seen in action or heard about and quite honestly I cannot imagine anyone better in terms of getting the job done. And he can’t be stopped. Can’t be killed. If I can’t trust Logan with my life I can’t trust anyone with my life.

That said, it is possibly true that I cannot trust anyone with my life. The people I work for? They are just as likely to kill me as to save me. Agents who get in trouble and need rescue – they are liabilities, not victims. I wish I could say I believe Logan wouldn’t do it but he’s been with them forever. It’s his way, just as much as their’s. If Magnus sent down the order he’d pull the trigger.

I wish I could say Magnus wouldn’t order my execution. But I am not that naive.

I guess the only person I can really trust with my life is me. I promise you this: I’d put up a hell of a fight.

You’ll never read this. Magnus does not condone contact outside of the mission parameters. We are not meant to care about anything or anyone beyond what we are told. Because if we knew the details, we would not be able to accomplish what is required of us. Knowing the details, knowing about you…it would keep us from being able to do what we do. Our targets have to be monsters. Not monsters with children.

But I do know about you. Your name is Anabel. It means lovable. I believe your father loved you. No one is only one thing, only one person. Not even monsters. When your father looked at you he didn’t see a world he had to conquer. He didn’t see the injustices he imagined and we disbelieve. He saw only beauty and grace in the form of a child. He saw hope in the form of his child. He saw love in you.

Your father died because he was a monster. I killed him.

I’m sorry.

Lorna signs her name, folds the page and slips it inside an envelope. She seals the envelope and places it in a metal box, alongside another twenty such envelopes. Closed and locked, she returns the box to its place in her closet. Inside the box she hides all her guilt amongst the details. Amongst the remains of monsters, the tears of daughters of monsters. Lorna is the daughter of a monster and she fears she is a monster herself. But she is not yet a monster.

She is only a ghost.

Fact or fiction?

[Locked/Private]

The fact is I work for an elite covert counterterrorism organization. Underground. Unaffiliated. Lethal.
The fiction is I am a college student and barista at Starbucks.

Sometimes the difference between Section X and Starbucks does get a bit blurry.

The fact is I know how to kill you with 97 different weapons. Or with whatever I can find. Or my bare hands. And I may not be a mutant or a secret government experiment but I can kill you with my brain.
The fiction is guns scare me! Criminals scare me! OMG I'm just a little coffee girl lost in the world!!

The fact is I don't like that fiction and I honestly don't play along with it too much. Sorry Logan. Deal.
Also, I basically am a secret government experiment just Section is not the government.
And I should be a mutant.
But I am not.

The fact is my life is busy and complicated and dangerous and frightening and most importantly secret.
The fiction is

[Unlocked]

The fact is there is NO fiction to me! I am an open book!! <333

What do you look for in a significant other?

I am bored and tired and lonely and this city is too big. What do I want in a significant other? I'll tell you at this point right this second now I'd settle for someone who called me by my name.

I work at Starbucks. In a week they're going to close us down for three hours of intense retraining on the Starbucks formula. I mean, seriously, you're kidding me, yes? Do I actually have to deal with this?

I can speak four languages!!

I need a better job.

So, yeah, I'm tired of being 'coffee girlie' and 'doll' and 'sweetheart' to all these blokes who come in to get their perfect cuppa. I'm not your sweetheart. Take me to dinner and maybe we'll talk but you have to use my name. Bloody American business men. I wouldn't want to date them anyway.

Ever read astrology? I'm Aquarius and yes that means I just had my birthday. Thanks for noticing. My point is I love to read my horoscope. I think it's a laugh but I love it. Here's a bit about me for anyone out there who's lookin' to know.

From Here.

Aquarians basically possess strong and attractive personalities. They fall into two principle types: one shy, sensitive, gentle and patient; the other exuberant, lively and exhibitionist, sometimes hiding the considerable depths of their character under a cloak of frivolity.

It goes on and on forever (read the whole thing, it's great fun, will tell you about your health and everything) but I like that wee intro. I think I'm the second type. No one'd ever call me patient or shy. So, great personality on me, right? You all should be lining up to take me out on the town.

This is what I'm looking for in a significant other: FUN. Be willing to laugh and remember my name and I will be your girl. 'Course my stars also say: They do not give themselves easily - perhaps their judgment of human nature is too good for that, but don't let that scare you. Shallow can still be significant. Hello, lover, your Aquarian Super Goddess is right over here.

"To obtain a man's opinion of you, make him mad". -Oliver Wendell Holmes


The other afternoon a mother came into the coffee shop with her little girl, three or four years old, prettiest little thing, really. Blonde hair, just the blonde I'd want to be, right? Honey colored but light and with little curls like something out of a magazine. Perfect. And dressed in a little pink jumper. Angelic child, isn't that what they call it? Angelic.

And her mum was all upper east side, too. A little society mother and her baby. Mum gets herself a latte and a crispies treat for the kid and they go off and sit by the window. But here's why I mention this 'cause here's where it gets a bit off. The kid, perfect little angel girl so blonde she's got a halo, she starts playing this game where she points her fork at everybody and blasts them. She's making little laser sounds like something out of Star Wars. I'm watching and there's a few others in the place and they're playing along, knocking themselves over and saying 'Oh! She got me! I'm dead!' and then they smile and walk on 'cause oh isn't she adorable?

I don't know. I don't think she's all that adorable this little toddler assassin. When did little girls in pigtails and jumpers start playing shoot 'em up? Is that normal? And everybody playing along, isn't that confusing? What if the kid got hold of a real gun, right? She wouldn't know that when you really shoot someone dead - dead, dead with a real bullet from a real gun - they don't laugh it off and walk on. And her mum didn't even notice, she was just sipping her coffee and typing into her phone.

When they were done they brought their dishes up to the counter and the girl had to give up her fork and she points it at me instead and says 'I blast you!' and I know I'm supposed to sway and pretend to die or whatever and then smile. But I'm looking at her and I pretend like I'm looking down the barrel of a gun and I can't smile.

[Private]
I don't need a gun to kill. If the fork was in my hand I could use it just as easy. The coffee. A glass. The mirror. The window. Her mum's scarf. My bare hands. I don't need a gun to kill.

I don't want to know these things.
[/Private]

If someone were pointing a gun at me I'd take it and turn it round. So I did. I took her fork, I turned it round and pointed it directly at her mum and I said 'Buy your daughter a doll before someone gets hurt.'

I don't think she liked that much. I also don't care. Idiot mother.

All people want is someone to listen. -Hugh Elliott

Lorna passes St. Patrick's cathedral every day on the way to and from work. Some days there are services, weddings, funerals, most days there are tourists; at Christmas time there are almost always lines out the door. Today is no exception, the line of people waiting to enter the church extends nearly a city block. Usually Lorna passes by without more than a glance. But today something stops her. Today she finds herself slipping past the throngs of people, using her training to further her own goals for once, and stepping into the sanctuary.

It's getting dark and the lights are dim, more frightening than welcoming really, the flicker of what looks like hundreds of prayer candles surrounding the pews. Lorna is momentarily awed despite herself. She hasn't stepped foot in a church in over two years, since before her life turned into a morality play all its own. She walks quietly to one of the candle displays, matches and tea lights sets aside for visitors to light their own. Each candle represents someone's prayer, or wish, or thought or fear or hope.

Hope.

Without really thinking about it Lorna selects a candle, lights it and places it amidst the others. She stares at the light. So many thoughts fly through her mind as she watches the candle's glow and yet none of them seem worthy of saying aloud. She thinks, maybe, God doesn't need her to speak. Maybe He already knows, maybe He is already listening.

"Peace on Earth," she says finally and turns to walk away. Away from the display, out of the sanctum, past the people waiting in the cold to discover if someone is listening to their prayers. It is a day like any other day and yet –

Lorna is hopeful.