| Subject: Priority Mail 125 |
Author:
Nikita507
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Date Posted: Tuesday, January 11, 08:05:12pm
In reply to:
Nikita507
's message, "Priority Mail 114+" on Friday, January 07, 08:30:18pm
Nikita held the package envelope in her hands. Looking at it she knew it to be Mick’s handwriting. No matter how often she stressed to Mick that he should learn ways to adjust his writing from time to time, he never listened to her about that.
It was hard not to open that envelope, but Nikita knew that she was on shaky ground. She was struggling to keep her mind on the task at hand and she even had to run into a lingerie store to buy some sort of frilly pink thing to hide what she had done today.
She pulled the car up to the tree that she had stashed the car at previously and pulled the keys out. It was a risk to continue to use this car. She should get another one before Davenport found this one. He would probably find it sooner once he returned, but Nikita just didn’t have the energy to deal with trading out cars today. She looked at the envelope and held it in her hands.
Nikita stood to the side of the door as she knocked. She knew the man inside would look through the security hole first and she did not want him to see her first. Nikita knew that he was inside and she waited and then knocked again. Without the security chain on, he poked his head out, showing signs that he was attempting to grow his hair out. “Who is playing out here?”
“Hello Martin,” Nikita intoned as she stepped into the apartment and closed the door. He may have been born with the name Martin, but looking at him, he would always be Mick. He shook his head as he stepped back. “Come on… I’ve left things alone… I thought I was fine.”
“I need your help,” Nikita replied as she turned and locked the apartment door. She rolled her shoulders backwards and looked around. “This doesn’t look like you.”
“I was waiting for the next shoe to drop, darling…”
“Popsicle,” Nikita corrected as she cracked a smile and settled down. “I had hoped to feel something different once outside of Section… for a bit.”
“You’ve been in power now for what… a couple months?”
“Four,” Nikita nodded her head up and down. “And I have some needs for you. But Martin has to go away forever and Mick has to get some better skills.”
“Better skills?” Mick inquired as he tilted his head and shook it from side to side. “I don’t think I’m interested.”
Nikita thought of the baby that she was carrying. She wasn’t going to tell him, but she needed him for her plan to work. She needed Mick to play along or she was going to have lots of problems. “Walter will help train you some… it will be low-key… you’ll be paid for your involvement.”
“Tell me what I need to do this for you?” Mick questioned. Nikita stood up and moved so she stood in front of him. “I’m your Popsicle.”
Nikita jumped out of the car and started back towards the house. She wanted to stop the thoughts and she was almost to the medicine. She hated thinking back to that time that she saw Mick. But she had thought about it easily three times since she got this envelope in her hands. She didn’t know what could be in it. The address was only supposed to be used if Mick was in trouble.
She hoped that Mick wasn’t in trouble.
”Why was I brought into Section?” Nikita questioned Mr. Jones. He had to know the reason. There were always reasons behind his actions. There was some sort of reason for why she was brought in as an innocent.
“Because of your particular skills,” Mr. Jones replied with almost a smile in his eyes. The words just did not ring as being true. It upset Nikita and it had gone beyond the point of no return. “I’m gonna ask the question again. Why was I brought into Section One?”
He looked a bit unsure of himself and Nikita hoped that it was a sign that meant he was going to tell the truth. She deserved the truth. “I don’t know.”
Nikita wanted to groan with that answer. Instead, she stalked closer to him, to look down at Mr. “Who’s my father?”
There was a pause and it was like Mr. Jones was thinking. Again, something just felt wrong.
“I don’t know,” Mr. Jones responded and Nikita broke. She slapped him across the face and used that surprise to pull him closer to her by the fur collar that was getting in the way. “I’ve been waiting for seven years for an answer. I’m out of patience! You’re the only person who knows. If you don’t help…”
Nikita broke out into a jog. She hated this part of her life. She didn’t want to think about it at all. She just needed to look at the envelope and figure out what was going on. But she also knew that sometimes, some things were stronger than her desires.
Mr. Jones was rapidly losing his composure. He looked unsure and almost scared. That didn’t seem right for someone who was supposed to be in control of everything. “I can’t help. I can’t help you.”
“That’s not what I want to hear, Mr. Jones,” Nikita declared with a tone that was ice cold. Her eyes were losing all part of her that seemed to have any sort of compassion. Mr. Jones started to panic at that moment in time, feeling a transition in Nikita that told him that she was almost a cold-blooded killer, which was not who she was.
“I… I… I’m not Mr. Jones…” the man broke and Nikita tossed him to the ground as it seemed like a ploy but it almost felt too right. “Try again!”
She was so angry that the hate blinded her as she started to kick him over and over again, despite the fact that the man was cowering in fear. She pulled back as she could barely control herself. Rarely has she ever felt this way. “Why was I brought into Section?”
The sobbing and the heavy breathing did not help. Suddenly her gun was cocked and aimed. Then shots were going to either side of him. The man grabbed his head protectively.
“Stop! Stop!” the man called out but Nikita fires off a few more shots, too upset with the situation. “Why was I brought into Section? Tell me!”
“I don’t know! I’m not who you think I am. I’m not Mr. Jones. I’m an imposter. My… my name is Martin… Henderson,” the man cried out with a voice that indicated nothing but the truth was being said.
Stunned, Nikita knelt down by him, trying to process what he was saying and what she had done to this possible innocent.
“Please. Just let me up,” Martin whispered as he looked at her. Somehow, Nikita stood and looked down at him. “Get up!”
The man stood with a round of coughs and gasps as he stumbled towards the rear of the limbo. He looked towards her hoping that she would listen to him. He feared that she wouldn’t.
Nikita got onto the block of the house and forced herself to slow down. She could see Phillip’s car down the road and if he saw her running at full speed to the house, he would know that something was wrong. She stashed the envelope into the bag from the lingerie store and forced herself to slow her pace.
It didn’t slow her mind down.
“Who are you?”
“Look…”
“What’s going on?” Nikita questioned again not letting him speak. He held his own and looked at her, knowing that he was going to have to talk fast.
“I know that this is… hard for you to believe. But… I… I… I’m… I’m an actor, that’s it. I’m an actor. Hired to play a part. Many parts,” the man explained.
“Hi, Nikita. Did you have a good shopping trip?” Phillip called out as he rolled down his window. Nikita knew that she was good from this distance. There was no way that he could see the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes. “I couldn’t let you ruin the surprise for Michael.”
He waved and rolled the window back up.
Inside the limo, Nikita stared at this man that she thought she knew. “It was about nine years ago. I was in a rep company near Wales…”
He was too afraid to sit beside her. He sat across from her. He pulled his knees up to his chest as if he was protecting himself. He wrung his hands together as he explained. “… Shakespeare, some Shaw. Nothing fancy. No money. No money. I used to survive eating peas and stale… crisps. And… and then one day this bloke comes knocking on my door, and he offers me a steady job.”
“It’s every actor’s dream. How could I know that the world would end up being my stage?” the man inquired as he answered a few more questions that Nikita had about the real Mr. Jones. He didn’t have the answers.
“First I was Mick Schtoppel. I was Mick Scht… I was… GOOD as a Mick Schtoppel. I was very good. It was so very easy for me that they gave me the plum role of Mr. Jones…” he explained as he knew that nothing was going to end up correctly right now. She needed the truth and he wasn’t sure he could ever give it to her.
She slammed the door as she entered the house and leaned against the door. She panted as she wasn’t even sure she could make it to the bathroom.
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