Cover Credit - STTMARTS on DeviantArt; cover will probably change soon once I find some motivation to look for art

Hello there!

First off, all characters that belong to Cheritz belong to them. I do not own them or anything similar to that. I only own all OCs used in this story: Art, Eric, and maybe a few more (I'll see). All agency names are made up/fictional (haha I hope they don't actually exist), and all place names are parodies of real place names, but the descriptions are not based off of the actual places.

I will occasionally stray off from the actual chats, and hopefully not make the texts OOC, but I'll try ^^

The idea of putting the place/date/time come from LordAstrea (Thank you!).

Thank you!

(And enjoy!)

-Teri

Prologue

Agency of New York Headquarters
Room 662 - Office of Eric Young
January 19th, 2017
2:07 PM EST

Eric Young was sitting on his comfortable rolling chair, frantically typing on his keyboard. His fingers moved quickly and the room was filled with nothing but the sound of the keyboard and an occasional sigh. The screen was reflecting off of his bright green eyes, bloodshot and wide open, almost as if he couldn't stop doing his work or else something would happen. He was sitting straight up in his seat, feet planted on the ground, and was biting on his lip so hard that it began to bleed slightly.

There was a knock at the door. "Mr. Young? You wanted to see me?"

The room went silent. Eric took a deep sigh and sat back in his chair. "Of course, 144. Come in. You're late."

The door opened, and standing right there was a girl, fairly short compared to Eric himself, with dark brown hair in a messy ponytail and black eyes that were cold and piercing. Her blue jacket was zippered, which was fairly interesting, considering she didn't get cold easily, and the heat was blasting in the office. She was short and a little too thin for her age, but Eric never cared about that. She was a great agent. One of the best, in fact.

She walked in, closing the door behind her. It closed with a quiet click. She stood there, standing perfectly still and straight, her head slightly tilted, her eyebrows raised. He knew what she was doing. She was taking note of everything. How coffee cups were scattered all over his desk, how his eyes were red, how he was wearing the same clothes he wore for the past week. How his hands were clutching the table, how his knuckles were white. Her eyes continued to search for any information available.

"Sit, 144. Don't just stand there." He gestured to the bright red chair that stood out amongst his dull, white room.

She took a seat and leaned back in the chair, her legs crossed, before saying, "You don't need to call me 144 all the time."

"It's my job. I'm the boss, you're the agent. I'm required to call you by number, just like you're required to call me 'Mr. Young.'"

"Alright. Fine, fine. What am I here for?" He was trying to avoid her stare, but she was trying to get his attention, to try to read what was going on in his mind.

Eric opened a drawer and began searching through a pile of very well organized folders. Eventually, he pulled one out and handed it to her, saying, "There's been a request for us to eliminate a certain individual. It's very urgent. You must finish this before February 3rd."

"That's not much information you're giving me." She reached for the file. "That's also not a lot of time."

"I know. I'm going to give you more information. Don't take the file yet. It's better if I explain this situation to you first." He finally met her eyes, his own eyes colder than ice.

She sat back in her chair, silent.

"Your job is to kill an agent for the Seoul Protection Agency," he began. She opened her mouth, about to object, but he continued, pretending to ignore her. "While we have been on good terms with them, I cannot turn this offer down. Therefore, your job, or jobs, should I say, are very crucial."

He slid the file to her, but she didn't bother to touch the file or take it. Her eyebrows were even more raised, if that was possible.

"You must eliminate the agent. However, you must also stay hidden so that nobody from the SPA will know that it was us who killed him. Try to limit it to two people from Seoul who know that you will be there."

"You're insane, sir."

"Your flight will be tonight at 11:48 PM exactly. In this file will be a debit card with 6 million won in it. The pin is your agent number with a 0 at the end. I assume you have a fake passport and all that to prepare?"

"Of course."

"Perfect," he said, leaning back in his chair, his eyes closed. "You are responsible for your own hotel, food, transportation, how you eliminate him, and how you cover his death. Understand?"

"Of course. Does this mean that I get to leave early to pack?"

He opened his eyes and glared. "You are an agent, 144. If you do not have bags already packed in case of a sudden emergency, I do not know what you are doing here."

She hesitated a bit before saying, "Right. I'll leave now." She picked up the file and began walking out the door, putting the debit card in her jacket pocket.

"144, I will give you a warning. If you fail this mission, please know that you will lose your life and you will put everyone working here in danger. Understand?"

She turned around. "I understand." There was something in her tone that made Eric close his eyes and smile. She sounded confident that she would succeed. And he became confident as well.

"Good luck, 144. I'll be waiting."

Click.

Sumerset Castle Seoul Hotel
Room 342, Bedroom
January 31st, 2017
9:13 AM KST

144, more commonly known as Art, was typing nonstop on her keyboard, filling the quiet room with sounds of typing. Next to her was a cup of coffee, still steaming, and her hair was up in a random, messy bun. Her eyes were still cold and determined, staring at the screen filled with lines of code and a map.

Eric had called her last night, asking her if she managed to somehow find his location.

"No," she replied curtly, "Maybe it would help if you had some of the agents back there to help, too, hm? I'm not great with finding and searching for people."

He sighed. "We're trying, 144. We've been trying to track him down, but he's careful. There's nothing we can find on him."

"We have less than a week left, Young."

"144, don't lose hope. We're all trying our best, and I hope- I know you are too."

Click.

This hacker was insanely good. She tried everything. She tried breaking into the SPA database to find information, and although she did successfully get in with a little bit of help back in New York, his information wasn't in the database. She tried to use the information she could find from the database to help, but all it did was give her some slightly specific information on his whereabouts.

She didn't know what to do at this point. She continued to search, but ended up with little to no information.

Don't stop there, because you won't be the only one in danger if you give up.

She reached for her coffee and took a sip. Hot and sweet. Just how she liked it.

Art sighed. There wasn't a lot of time left. Maybe Eric could ask for more time? That would be nice. An extension would be really nice. It would mean less pressure for all of them, too. She leaned back onto the pillows and put the laptop on the drawer next to her.

She had to start thinking about tonight. Which hotel would she go to? She wanted to be careful. To leave no traces. Worrying about the debit card was already enough, but Eric assured her that the card would be traced to a bank account that was owned by a fake person.

That was slightly reassuring.

She always moved around. One night she would stay in this hotel, the next night she would stay in that hotel. One night she would eat in this restaurant, the next night she would eat in that restaurant. She was used to it. She also liked being able to explore while working, to take a semi-vacation instead of being trapped in an office with thirteen other people who were all breathing the same, hot air.

A bit less than three hours before Art had to leave.

She didn't want to leave, however. It was comfortable here, and moving seemed like a terrible idea. Everything she needed was within reach - her backpack, her coffee cup, her laptop, her phone, a few snacks, and a variety of chargers, all on nearby drawers. The bed and the pillows she was on were all soft. The blanket was warm. The temperature was perfect. It was unfortunate that she would have to move eventually.

She was about to reach out for her drawer, when her phone vibrated just once. She turned around and reached for her phone instead.

Hm? The agents should know better than to text me.

Considering how her phone didn't have any other downloadable apps, and the only apps she used were a location app and the phone, the vibration was a little strange for her. She picked up the phone.

RFA Messenger has been downloaded.

What the hell?

Quickly unlocking her phone, she tried deleting the app by dragging it to the little trash can on the top of the screen. But she couldn't delete it, no matter how much she tried. She tried to delete it by connecting it to her laptop and working from there, but it refused to leave its new home, more commonly known as her phone.

She stared at the app. It had a simple logo, with just RFA in fancy, golden text, with laurel and a ribbon surrounding the text, and a black background. She wanted to know what RFA meant, if it meant anything in the first place

She clicked it.

The screen became entirely black, before the logo appeared again. It soon disappeared with another screen, asking for a username and a profile picture.

I suppose if I want to find out more about it, I should just go on with it.

She typed in "Art," since typically, people would associate art with, well, paintings and music, right? Not with a name. She got out of bed and took a photo of the scenery outside, which was stupid, in her mind, but she didn't know what else she could use as a profile.

As soon as she clicked enter, the entire screen turned a dark blue, with green lines of code filling the screen. There was a slightly patterned bar at the top and bottom of the screen, the bottom of the screen with a box allowing for her to type, and the top with one word on it: "Unknown."

Some text appeared on the screen.

Unknown: ...Hello...? Is this 144?

She froze, rereading the message over and over again. 144? That was her agent number. Is this a new app for ANY, or did she accidentally leave a trace when hacking into the SPA database? She hoped it was the former.

She glanced at the profile picture. It was the default photo. No help there.

Art: 144?

Unknown: Are you agent 144 of ANY?

Oh shit.

He couldn't have known. It was impossible. The ANY database was secure, and besides, if anyone did break into the database, it would be hard to leave without a trace. She would have to ask the other agents some other time.

Art: Who are you?

She didn't know what else to ask. Asking "How do you know?" would mean that she was confirming that she was, indeed, agent 144 of ANY. Saying "no" would mean that she was lying, and while that was tempting, if this "Unknown" person turned out to be one of her agent friends, that would be a little awkward. Saying "yes" would be dangerous, especially if this "Unknown" person was supposed to hunt down ANY agents or something similar to that.

Unknown: I wouldn't worry about that. I'm here to help with your... issue.

She stopped standing near a window and walked to her luggage for a change of clothes. She was going to receive information from this "Unknown" person. While this person could be dangerous, information was still information. And she was tired of sitting in a hotel room for a long period of time, trying to search for information with no success. But one thing put her on edge.

He knows about this, but doesn't want to reveal his identity. Why?

She took out a random change of clothes, before throwing them on the bed and picking up her phone again.

Art: Elaborate.

Unknown: Here's an address for you. I recommend you come here for more information regarding the elimination of your target.

He knows. He knows everything, probably.

The next thing she knew, there was an address sent to her. A quick search showed that she was supposed to go to some apartment downtown, where a lot of people lived and worked. She hoped she didn't have to eliminate him there. That would have been a pain, trying to kill him in the middle of a crowded street.

Art: Does the target live there?

Unknown: No, unfortunately. I cannot find his address, but I know that this address is related to him.

Art: I see. Thank you.

Unknown: Don't delete this app - well, it's not as if you can. However, do not call or text any of the agents back in ANY. You can do it now to tell them, but it will be risky once you arrive at the apartment.

Art: Alright. Is there a lock or something on the door, because am I expected to break in?

He knows, he knows. How?

She immediately called Eric, but he didn't pick up. Maybe he was having dinner? She did, however, leave a voicemail, telling him that she found an address that was related to the target, and also telling him that it would be dangerous for everybody if any of the agents called her from this point on.

She looked around. She would have to pack quickly if she wanted to get there as soon as possible.

Hyperial Tower
Apartment 1429
January 31st, 2017
10:17 AM KST

Art was right in front of the address given. Hyperial Tower, Apartment 1429. The elevators were down for some reason, which meant that she had to carry her backpack and her suitcase all the way up from the first floor to the fourteenth floor.

The hallway was silent, other than the abnormally loud sound of her breathing. She would rather not go through the entire situation again. That wouldn't be fun.

She analyzed the door. It seemed very sturdy, maybe even made of some sort of metal, so breaking open the door would be a bad idea. There was a number lock on it, as well as a little symbol on the top indicating that maybe there was a card scanner. The strange (but very pretty, she had to admit) RFA logo was on the door as well.

Art: I'm here. What's the code, or is there a card hidden somewhere?

Unknown: The code is 4218750. I'm fairly certain there is some sort of card inside, but I do not recommend looking through drawers or touching anything.

Unknown: Also, if any of them ask, please do not say that I led you here to help you eliminate a target. Create an excuse, but make sure that you do not reveal that you are an agent, and I helped you.

She put in the seven numbers and was greeted with a click. She opened the door, and saw a fairly large apartment which was brightly lit with sunlight.

Art: Them?

No response.

Art: Alright. I understand. I'll tell them that you led me here... because someone lost a phone.

Unknown: That sounds good. Have fun and good luck, 144.

Art: Thank you.

The green text flickered away, as did Unknown's messages. The dark blue background was replaced with a photo of the night sky, and the top bar was different. There were more names. Way more names. It was also strange, how the chat room changed so quickly.

She shut the door behind her. Who were these people? Jumin Han, 707, Yoosung, Jaehee Kang, and, well, Art. The only person she knew in this chat room was herself.

Yoosung: Failed my midterms fml T_T

Art raised an eyebrow. Failing midterms?

His profile, however, did give her a warm feeling inside. It was a fairly young boy, probably around the same age as her, with messy blonde hair, his bangs held back with two intersecting clips. His mouth was in a wide smile and he was waving... he reminded her of something...

He reminded her of an innocent child. A "cinnamon roll," some would say.

707: Cuz you played LOLOL all night lol.

She took a closer look at his profile. She froze as soon as she took one good look at it.

What? No way. He looks exactly like the guy I have to track down...

She tapped on his profile picture, but nothing happened. She couldn't zoom in or anything similar, but she was almost certain he was the target. He had the same red hair and golden eyes that the photo in the file had. Unless this guy had a twin (which would mean that he couldn't join the agency, so that was ruled out), she had found her target, who was under the name 707. All her worries and fears she tried to hide before disappeared.

She watched the conversation go on, realizing that nobody knew that she was even in the chat room. At least, until...

707: Wait!

Yoosung: Why?

Zen: ?

707: Think someone entered the chat room;;

This apartment... this Unknown person... they were so helpful. She might actually succeed. She wouldn't fail, and nobody would die because of her.

Art: Hello.

Art: And yes, I did enter. I'm a little confused about how I entered, however.

That doesn't sound suspicious, right?

Yoosung: Ahh! It's talking!

Guess not.

She leaned against the door, a small smile on her lips. Almost automatically, her smile faded when she saw there was a camera. They couldn't know. No. If anyone, especially her target, saw her smiling like a psychopath, that wouldn't be very good. But even though she wasn't clearly showing it, there was a warm feeling in her, filling her with energy and determination.

Luciel Choi.

I can't wait until I find you.