Mission Haywire

Owen:

Well, in most cases, the child usually escaped and made the villain look foolish. After all, it was most cases. In this case only came about unluckiness and no control. Owen was forced to help them break into someone's house and kill that person. Some men were with him but it wasn't in any case—helpful.

He was squished tightly—in a smooth way—at the back. Well, how are you feeling, one of them happened to ask. Owen hesitatingly spoke. "Well, I'm Casey on this mission, got it?"

Owen nodded with a sudden tingle.

The van continued to blend in the lone night. As the silent wind flew across the horizon.

This was one of a time to pray to God. Casting his hopes, he prayed very silently—no one happened to notice. Casey gave a befuddled feeling. "You really must miss your dad eh?" Owen darted a disgusted look. "Like you care."

"I'm glad you found that out my friend. Your dad had no backbone, so timid. But—you got something that was like Mae."

"Mae?" Owen bewilderedly asked.

"Isabella Mae Sheard—never smiled."

"How come?"

"How am I supposed to know, you think I'm her brother," then with a quiet hushed voice he added, "I wish I was." Owen looked at him with an unbalanced look.

"You wouldn't understand, would you boy." He patted oftly on Owen's head which was the first time to be uncomfortable, on Casey. "Hey, we're here," the driver had ordered. In a focused motion, they were escorted out of the car, packed with heavy machine guns and assault rifles, while they only left Owen—with a small pocket knife. A teammate dropped down a button. In a flash, it unfolded and became a ladder. "Come on, move move," he ordered.

Owen climbed the ladder and shook a little while doing it. The floor seemed to fall deeper as he climbed. His heart beating faster each step, reached to a bunk onto the window. But, the window was familiar, his aunt always had the red tinted window and the deep white blinds that stared at you.

Were they trying to kill his aunt. He tried to not think that, because why would they do that. But he finally noticed, Omelia Davis had the family bank password so they needed to hold her hostage first before they killed her. This was probably a trick. Owen decided to be smart and continued on with the mission. They reached the roof of the apartment—which was quite high—and brought out a laser. Casey made a square which revealed a red bright line that made the ground tremble. It eventually broke through, and the team jumped in sneakily.

Owen tripped over and landed on his head which dazed him. They only went to the stairs, which led to a vent. He thought thoroughly about it.

As they reached a room called 456, there was a woman with brown who was around thirty with glasses. Auntie Omelia.

Doxin:

Det. Doxin closed his room door. Mr. Jenstins provided him with a room recently that day, a special room with decorative tiles. He accepted—but found it hard to concentrate with all the colors. He thought about the time he had, it was forty-five hours left. But he noticed, when the timer started—it was 48:59. No phone had a maximum of forty nine hours. He picked up the paper he saved in his pocket.

Srehtaf eht ot Thead

He looked closely. He saw very closely and figured out suddenly. His eyebrows raised with a sudden twist. On a good exact time, Jacques entered the room.

"Donc tu n'es pas encore couché, hein?" Jacques chuckled. He took off his jacket and with a dry sigh, he let down his hat. "The police will be coming in a few minutes. That's one thing we settled," he voiced. Doxin chuckled, giving him the note. "The timer and the unknown language? Ce n'est pas vraiment révélateur."

Doxin explained, "See the timer? It started with 48:59, so it was forty-nine hours. But, no phone goes that uneven so, I looked at the clues and riddle me this: 45 Heoted no 54 Seot."

Jacques became bewildered suddenly. "That's an old phrase used by my grandfather. He said it was an ancient saying: Organization Rebirth. Now, we see that SEOT was an organization for London, but they haven't been seen anymore.

"They are probably trying to make themselves known."

"And the mission that went wrong."

"It is true it may be that, but the group was to help London though—so why would they do a mission like that?"

Well another question occurred in his brain but, it was sudden. Holes appeared on the walls which multiplied in seconds. "Get down!" Det. Jacques shouted.

Det. Doxin got out his pistol and shot with no target.

Tat!

The door opened slowly with a silent creek. There stood Mr. Jenstins with a blank stare. He fell headflat to the blood faced floor. And stood a very dark blonde lady with a mask over her stood for a split second then zoomed away.

Det. Doxin got up and shot his gun. The bullets flew past her hair.

"Hey, stop!"

He used his long legs and tried to move to a far distance to catch up. As the woman ran, she tripped and bumped her forehead vigorously.

When Doxin reached, she lifted her leg and gave Doxin a serious teeter in the face.

"Arh!" he screamed. He gave a blow to the woman and the woman cried after. In a flash, Doxin sputtered since two legs surrounded his neck. In less than a second, he felt a bang on his head.

He got up quickly and blocked the assassin's hit. She suddenly jumped and gave an instant kick onto his head. Doxin rolled back and dodged.

"You know," Doxin said, panting hardly. "You're pretty good. I'm not gonna lie."

The woman didn't seem to be flattered by his words. Instead, she punched his face and Det. Doxin crashed onto the wall. It was like a list of how Doxin and the assassin fought.

Punch

Block

Jab

Flip

And a final punch from Detective Doxin.

He captured the assassin in his jacket by accident and happened to receive many rapid jabs from the assassin. He freed the jacket and suddenly, the assassin kicked his face and he fell onto the ground.

He groaned in pain. "Detective Doxin? Funny, I always thought detectives weren't meant for fighting. Perhaps, I was right," she said with a smirk.

She ran away and suddenly disappeared inside the ground. Doxin got up and saw her no more.

Owen:

"What's going on?" the aunt dumbfoundedly asked. Owen stammered errantly. "I was—" "Hush it, kid!" Casey demanded, glaring at Owen. "Give us the password." Auntie Omelia looked at Owen disappointedly. "I won't tell you," she said. Casey laughed uncomfortably, and faced his pistol. "You didn't hear me did you, give us the password—now."

"No!"

Owen started sweating. He wasn't being smart, he was being absolutely dumb. He needed to fix this up, somehow.

"I'll give you the password," Owen said for the sake of Auntie Omeila's life. He opened up the computer, typed up the password and went into her bank account.

Casey snickered happily. "Well, I never knew it would've been this easy."

Owen stared at Casey with a face full of disgust and hatred. "Continue on, pathetic wimp," Casey hissed.

Owen did as ordered, and went into the bank account. Casey began to feel suspicious.

"Um, can you give us the password?" he asked. His answer only seemed to come with a spark of bullets. The aunt held two automatic pistols.

"Get out—of here," she said with a brave pause, which was possibly awarding too.

Bullets zigzagged the room. Owen looked at the view of his own aunt, punching and shooting his enemy teammates. She went on someone's neck and flipped over him. "Owen, run with my computer!" she shouted. Casey, confused and vexed about this situation—ordered someone of his men left to find and kill Owen.

Owen—taking heed to his aunt's orders—ran much faster than the wildfire. He looked back and saw snipers and shooters facing at him. Soon enough, he felt the road shaking from the bullets. He ran much faster by force—which happened to just bring a van to chase him.

Owen knew the road was not safe for him.

He slid down to the grass and continued running. The vans pursuited him from the highway, and shot down at him.

It wasn't safe there either, so Owen only decided to hide inside a closed place. The bank.

The bank wasn't particularly closed though but it was closing. So, he took the back door to it and went inside. Then, he hid into the vent and after that, lazers showed up.

The bank had closed, since the guards shift ended, they put lasers which were quite impossible to get through, whether or getting in or going out. Owen brought out his phone to call 911 but his phone was dead. This in a particular matter was not lucky. It was a matter of life and death.

Doxin:

In a certain case, the train stopped in danger of the death of the engineer. "What happened?" Mr. Denbinarth asked worriedly.

"It was the death of Mr. Jenstins. Last person we saw was—a woman with a black suit and very dark blonde hair," Det. Jacques clarified checking over the hole and the body. Det. Doxin instead, was walking around in circles.

"She also escaped in that hole under the train, but how couldn't she have not died?" the french detective wondered bewilderedly.

"She was a professional assassin, Jacques," Det. Doxin explained vexedly. "I need to talk to Miss Sheard."

"It's not certainly possible it could be her, she had very light hair."

Mr. Denbinarth moved his eyes in a very slow motion. "I haven't really seen her since six o'clock."

Doxin turned very slowly. "What was she doing at that time?"