1: Colored eyes, gray heart

Time: Undetermined. Location: The Agency, South Headquarters.

The image in the mirror reflects a young woman with wavy hair that falls down her neck like rivers of gold. She has a small nose, caramel skin, thick eyelashes, cherry lips, which together with her slender body -the result of an athletic life and a healthy diet- convey the image of a girl who is about to become a woman. The reflection differs from the angelic purity of two weeks ago.

Veronica turns around and from over her shoulder looks at her bare, unblemished back. Mr. Medical makes sure that no marks or imperfections blemish the skin, except when required for a mission. Every time Veronica finishes an assignment Mr. Medical erases the consequences of foul play, otherwise Veronica would not know how to explain the cuts and bruises to her father.

An identity is cemented on details: The eyebags of the studious girl for staying up all night reading books; the razor marks of the self-deprecating goth; the whips on the back and bruises between the thighs of the slave. Everything is carefully planned like a good game of chess. These small details allow Veronica to make conjectures about what kind of new and ephemeral life they plan for her.

A silhouette appears from the mirrored doorway. Veronica looks at him. He is an older man with graying hair and pronounced receding hairline, wearing thick-rimmed glasses and a white coat. Mr. Medical never looks at her as a person but as a canvas, clay to be molded under his delicate instruments. In the doctor's slanted eyes dwells not the pride of the artist, but the mercenary's quest for quality as he visualizes riches.

"They sent these from Armament. New version, better quality, or so they say" Mr. Medical says and hands Veronica a box with contact lenses.

She takes them and, facing the mirror, puts them on. The difference between wearing them or not is almost indistinguishable. She says out loud the words Zoom, Rec and Night. The contact lenses react to each command. The first zooms in as if he were wearing binoculars. The next records and transmits to your laptop or cell phone, or both. The third activates night vision. It blinks three times in a row and takes a picture.

Veronica notices that it takes half a second less between the voice command and the contact lens reaction, a substantial improvement. The old man tells her which eye color she will need. She uses the Paint command to tint her pupils green. Mr. Medical nods his approval.

The teenager dresses in a full body suit; Black, made of a material similar to latex but extremely resistant, and that distributes heat better; It fits her figure like a second skin; Waterproof; Decreases thermal detection; When she dives into the shadows she disappears and anyone would swear there is a levitating head.

Veronica leaves the diagnostic area to go down to the testing and weapons zone, crossing white corridors with floors so polished they look like mirrors. In an unadorned room, with a solitary metal table in the center. Gem waits for her.

"You've already fitted the new contact lenses. How do they go? Do you like them? I wanted you to try them on the way here" The black woman's hair is combed in braids down the back of her neck. She moves the lever of her wheelchair until she is five steps away from Veronica.

"Are better and less noticeable" Veronica replies.

"Nothing else? Show more emotion. This 2.0.4 version is a quite remarkable step forward without the need to measure it with 100% accurate methods. It's like going from the clouds to the moon and from the moon to the sun, a clear advance in sight"

Veronica raises an eyebrow and gives a skeptical smile. Gem sighs and gives in without a fight:

"I know, I exaggerate! It's getting harder and harder to make significant progress, and if I don't sell every improvement as the second coming of Jesus, those at the top will settle for using the toys my grandfather designed or buying from the Chinese. Can you imagine talking to White from a shoe?"

"I like the Shoephone! It's a classic"

"But it was already outdated in the cold war. It's a fossil, and a ticket to the loony bin... Or to any viral video on the Internet. Come on, have faith in your trusted designer"

Gem touches a series of buttons hidden under the table, these actuate a wall space that lifts and folds, opening the way to a spacious storage room just as white as the corridors, lit by ceiling panels. Inside Gem's workshop, presented in a series of white display cases, are the tools of the trade (Or toys, as Gem likes to call them). In the center of the zone remain burn stains, and a mannequin lying with bullet impacts to the chest and face, remnants of other assassins' tests.

Only one of the showcases is open, it is the shelf designated for Veronica's inventory, base equipment that, together with the care of Mr. Medical, the girl gets thanks to her affiliation with the Agency.

The girl's current inventory is as follows:

-Special lenses: it has several functionalities already described or mentioned. All information is sent to the secure cell phone (If you require information about this, read below).

-Reading glasses: It comes with flashlight, and an ultra-violet light that allows reading secret messages. It also comes with a small explosive charge that activates four seconds after pressing a button on the side of the frame.

-Work briefcase: It hides a mini-fax printer, which receives secret messages printed on flammable paper to facilitate later destruction. It is the ideal size to hide the shadow suit (see below) and other work items.

-Shadow suit: Black, flexible, ideal for camouflage at night. It has a mask and gloves (It is the suit that Veronica is wearing at the moment).

-Floor blade: Hidden blade that comes out with three quick stomps. It is designed to adapt to different types of soles. The blade is coated with a paralyzing poison that, after spending 10 minutes in the bloodstream, causes death.

Remote-controlled Dragonfly: Small flying robotic insect, capable of being manipulated by remote control and transmitting information (video and audio) to the associated secret cell phone. It has a battery for 30 minutes of uninterrupted flight, and a maximum flight range of 1200 meters.

Killer pen: Elegant gold-colored pen that holds a .38 caliber special projectile. Also available in silver and copper green.

-Fresh Mints: Almost instant effect drug, camouflaged in a bottle of Show brand mints. One mint leaves the person docile and compliant. Two put the person to sleep on the spot. Three or more prove fatal.

-Derringer DoubleTap Pistol: Compact gun that comes with an anklet, and a wrist strap for rapid deployment. It has two 9 mm projectiles, and two reloading extras in the grip.

-Hoop earring: Transmits and records sound to the secure cell phone. It has a ring shape.

-Secure cell phone: One of the most versatile tools used by spies and hitmen. It has the functions of an ordinary tactile cell phone. It has a call tracker, voice processor, self-destruct system, and the ability to be associated with other work tools.

-Wireless headset: Designed specifically for use with the secure cell phone. In spite of their compact size, they prevent sound leakage by 90%. They have intercom mode of up to 250 meters, and sound amplification.

-Choke cable: Made of carbon fiber and rubber mesh grips. Ignores metal detectors.

-Escape capsule: A black capsule that holds lock picks and small escape knives, in case the agent needs it. Remember to keep it deep inside.

Veronica tries several of the tools and is satisfied, well she knows that Gem takes obsessive care of every toy she works on. The girl would have liked to have a larger assortment of firearms, but for that she would have to buy them, the agency would surely get her a supplier and housing for the arsenal. But she also doesn't want to spend wildly and risk her family's funds.

Gem rolls up to her and asks:

"How was your last mission?"

"It sucked, but it ended well. I think White has faith in me. I won't complain either, without Crazy Crack the world is a safer place"

"14 missions completed in the year and a half you've been with us... You're very talented, V. But it doesn't take away from the fact that White abuses and views his agents more like machines than people. He manages to make the work I love exhausting, so imagine how tiring it gets. Don't forget to be careful and rest.... Talent won't do you much good if you get shot between your eyebrows for being overconfident"

Veronica nods, although her gaze remains distracted by the instrument she left on top of the display case. She grips the choke cable with both hands and pulls, content to listen to the familiar, comfortable squeak of the fiber. If she ever gets a partner, Veronica wishes it would be just as reliable and safe as that cable.

"A year and a half... Has it really been that long?" Veronica murmurs to herself, reminiscing about when she lacked that fancy equipment. Humble beginnings where she only had rudimentary resources, and tons of instinct and determination.

Instead of shadow gloves, she wore cleaning gloves, and instead of fiber cable, a wire she got from the shed at home and hid inside her pink-haired turtleneck boots. The TV in the room is playing a rerun of Pulp Fiction. The screen, and a lamp on the nightstand, are the only sources of light in the room. Big T remains seated on the furniture in front of the TV, in white boxer shorts with his big, black, hairy legs exposed, but with everything else on, including his fedora hat. Veronica took it upon herself to blindfold him, which Big T at first liked, but now the man was getting impatient.

"What are you waiting for, bitch? Christmas?" Big T said in a bossy tone.

"I'm coming, daddy" Veronica says with the timbre of a voice of someone willing to be accommodating. She coils the ends of the wire in her gloved hands, walks over to the couch, and noiselessly passes the strand in front of Big T's face. As soon as it grazes his jowls, Veronica pulls back with all the strength in her arms and back.

Big T stiffens, a shriek climbs up his throat and seeps like a strangled puff between his lips. The thug brings his hands to his neck, but his stubby fingers are unable to get between the filament and the flesh it bites into. Desperate, he lunges forward, sideways, everywhere to try to get to his feet and free himself. The couch shakes following the man's erratic movements. Hot blood trickles down his shirt and stains his underpants, his shoes, and his fedora lying on the couch.

Veronica keeps her teeth so clenched that they grind. She presses one foot on the back of the seat to help herself. The wire has long since pierced the rubber of her cleaning gloves and cut her palms, wedging into the bones of her fingers. But she didn't let the burn of intense pain weaken her grip; on the contrary, it motivated her to keep fighting to the end and prevent the man from calling for help. Vestigial echoes of the struggle managed to escape beyond the bedroom door, but Big T's guards misinterpreted the sound as typical boss brute sex.

The blood, acting as a lubricant, causes Veronica's wire to slip a couple of inches. The girl curses through her teeth. Big T pulls forward again and manages to get to his feet, leaving the teen hanging off his back, who flails her legs and stomps her feet until both legs are planted against the thug's spine.

Big T takes a couple of steps in the direction of the door, his hand outstretched, his lips mumbling words that the cut-off breath prevents him from formulating, he bucks like an enraged bull. The wire ends up slipping from Veronica's slashed palms, who is thrown into the air. The girl crashes into the TV, knocking it over and shattering the screen with a spark. Big T falls to his chest on the carpet.

Veronica props herself up on her battered hands and is back on her feet. Through the haze of her blurred vision she glimpses how Big T changed course, now crawling with one arm to where his pants lie sprawled, while with her free palm she squeezes the bleeding on his neck. Veronica stumbles forward, almost tripping over the bed, but keeps her balance and jumps over the offender.

She lies on the wide back of the subject, she almost blindly reaches for the wire, wraps the strand again, this time around the wrists where the rubber gloves remain intact. Veronica pulls with much less force than before, but it's not a losing struggle, Big T is exhausted too. They remain on each other for a minute, in a tortuous battle of wills.

"Hey, Big, everything all right?" asks one of the guards on the other side of the door.

Big T's mouth gurgles a crushed distress. Veronica straddles the thug's broad back, gathers air into her burning lungs, throws her head back and moans.

"Harder, daddy!"

The guard takes that as a signal to stop importuning. Veronica takes a second breath and pulls again. She feels the innermost straps of the neck give way and the consequent audible flow as the jugular bursts, taking the thug's last strength with it.

Veronica remains seated on the dying man for a while longer, long enough for him to become a dead man. The girl's heart resumes a calmer beat and the heat is released from her tired muscles. She lets go of the wire, she has to pull to detach it from her own flesh. She gets up dizzily and heads for the bathroom.

She turns on the faucet and dips her hands in, the crystal-clear water is stained red. The coolness cleans the cuts and reveals the pinkness of the flesh. Veronica looks at herself in the mirror over the sink, the purple wig hangs on one side of her face, and her real hair is tight and shiny with sweat. The blood permeates her sclerae.... But her gray eyes remain gray and focused. She plunges her face into the water.

Veronica opens the supply rack located to the side of the mirror, grabs the bandages and wraps her wounds as fast as she can. She takes a minute to arrange her costume, straightens the wig, adjusts the pink tube top and frosted miniskirt, wipes away the smears of blood that stain her arms and legs with water. Veronica goes back, steps over Big T's corpse and retrieves his pants. From a pocket she pulls out a Colt Python revolver, its casing personalized with an overloaded voodoo symbolism among which skulls predominate.

The door to the room creaks open. The closest of the guards yawns and turns, only to find the revolver barrel inches from his face. Veronica fires. The man falls with a shattered forehead. The other guard curses and, in an act of instinct and reflex, jumps over the motel balcony railing. Veronica takes aim at him and fires twice.... She misses both shots. The girl imitates the guy and goes through the railing, one leg at a time, and lands one floor below, bending her knees to cushion the impact.

The people of that quarter of the city, already accustomed to the ruckus, barricade themselves in their houses and rooms at the first sign of gunfire. Two figures run into the dark, clear streets. The revolver rumbles again, and the shadow that takes the lead falls and turns.... Veronica advances to the man with outstretched right arm, and aims for the skull. The guard, still alive and with confusion and fear portrayed on his face, shows trembling hands and shakes his head.

"Please! Have mercy! I have a family! Childrens! I-!"

A last shot cuts the stillness of the night.