BZZZT POP!!
The neon lights flared. To the civilian eye, the Tainan Garden Night Market on Hai'an Road was just a loud festival of excess. But I knew exactly what it was. A hub of thieves. A free-trade zone for mercenaries, smugglers, cartel operatives and all kinds of evil doers. The scenery have massive sea of tents stretching out into the dark. Giant rectangular flags waving above the crowds like the warring tribes.
"Stay close to the wall," I whispered, pressing my back against a stall selling colorful, cartoon-faced socks. "This perimeter is swarming. It's a bazaar for assassins."
A-Lan sighed. Her pink backpack caught the strobe of the halogen lamps. "Wei, you're knocking over the Hello Kitty socks. Just walk normally. People are staring."
"Let them stare. It's a deterrence strategy. Make yourself look crazy, and the sniper second-guesses his windage."
〔 SECTOR INFILTRATION: GARDEN NIGHT MARKET 〕
〔 SENSORY OVERLOAD DETECTED 〕
〔 THREAT LEVEL: EXTREME 〕
The air was a war crime, it felt heavy. Heavy with the deployment of aerosolized chemical agents. Fermented cabbage. Rancid soybeans. It burned the eyes.
"Gas!" I gasped, pulling the collar of my dirty fishing vest over my nose. "They're deploying toxins. Keep your breathing shallow, Handler, or else you'll pass out!"
"It's just stinky tofu, Dad," A-Lan said, pinching her nose. "It's supposed to smell like that. It's delicious. You actually like it normally."
"That's definitely Brainwashing," I rasped, squinting through the smoke. "A Pure Agency propaganda."
We moved through the center aisle. To the left, a tactical firing range where young operatives practiced their sniper skills on a wall of balloons using low-caliber dart weaponry. To the right, artillery calibration training—initiates chucking plastic rings over a field of glass bottles. A brutal testing ground. Only the ruthless ones that conquer it walked away with a giant stuffed Pikachu.
I kept my hand resting near the handle of my tactical iron spoon. Ready for an ambush.
"Where is the contact?" I asked, my voice barely audible over the chaotic hum of a hundred blending boomboxes.
"Section Three. By the food stalls," she mumbled, expertly guiding us through a crowd of people eating 'coffin bread'—a brazen, mob-style psychological threat if I ever saw one. "We just have to pick up the package and go."
We reached a quieter place. Sitting on a red plastic stool was our contact.
〔 SCANNING SUBJECT: ELDERLY FEMALE 〕
〔 CODENAME: THE "MATRIARCH" 〕
〔 ARMAMENT: FLORAL BLOUSE, GRAY HAIR, CANVAS SHOPPING BAG 〕
"It's an older asset, an experienced one at that" I muttered to A-Lan.
"Watch out. The grey-haired ones have no rules. They survived the Cold War. They know all the nerve-cluster strikes."
"Stop talking like that," A-Lan whispered furiously. "Sh-she's..... she's going to hear you."
The Matriarch looked up from her stool. When she saw us, her face crumpled into a complicated look of sorrow and relief. It was a terrifying display of raw emotional camouflage. Flawless acting.
"Wei," she said. Her voice trembled. She stood up. "Ah-Wei. You came. Heavens..... look at you."
She moved toward me. Fast. For an operative her age, the burst of speed was unprecedented. She grabbed my arm. Her grip was iron. A devastating bone-lock submission hold right there next to the shaved ice stand.
"DISENGAGE!" I shouted, dropping my center of gravity and stepping back. "Maintain your distance, MATRIARCH! State your business!!"
The old woman froze. Real tears welled up in her eyes and tracked down the powder on her cheeks. It was magnificent.It made me feel something. The advanced tear-duct manipulation. I recognized a master interrogator when I saw one.
"Dad," A-Lan said softly, tugging my jacket. "Please be nice."
"What are they feeding you out there?!" The Matriarch sobbed. "You look so thin! Your face is like a ghost!"
She reached swiftly into her canvas bag. I braced myself. Hand-to-hand combat in a night market was going to be messy, but I was fully prepared to neutralize her right into the garbage bin of discarded skewers.
She pulled out... a translucent plastic container.
"I made your favorite," she said, her voice shaking violently. "Braised pork. And some tea eggs."
I stared at the sealed plastic box. The brown chunks floating in the murky soy liquid. "Bio-rations? Are they laced with cyanide? Sodium pentothal? You want me to spill the clearance codes, don't you??!!"
"It's just lunch, Wei! You need to eat!" The old woman looked down at A-Lan, utterly devastated. "Little Lan, please. Does he even sleep? Does he know who I am tonight?"
"He's operating on a high-security frequency," A-Lan said smoothly. She stepped forward, blocking my body with her own tiny frame. "The Asset requires absolute discretion. Pass the rations to the Handler."
The Matriarch nodded, wiping her nose with a crumpled tissue. She handed over the heavy tupperware. Then, from her pocket, she produced a red paper envelope. It was thick.
"Bribe money," I calculated out loud. "They're trying to buy my defection."
The old woman choked on a sob.
"It's red, Wei. High-level warning," I instructed my handler urgently. "Do not touch. It's likely soaked in a contact poison."
A-Lan ignored me and expertly intercepted the red envelope. She shoved it directly into her sparkly pink backpack, sandwiching it between her GameBoy and the spare ammo triple-A batteries.
"Mission funds accepted!" A-Lan announced with a nod.
"Oh, A-Lan, you've become such a good, brave girl," the Matriarch cried, petting the top of A-Lan's head. "Bring him home soon. Ms. Lin called me. She said it's getting dangerous out there for you both. He shouldn't be driving that rusty scooter..."
Ms. Lin. The Shadow.
My blood ran absolutely cold. The blue text flared violently.
〔 ALERT: COMPROMISED CONTACT 〕
〔 ENEMY SYMPATHIZER DETECTED 〕
〔 ABORT INTERVIEW. ABORT. ABORT. 〕
"YOU! You're working with the Shadow!" I barked, unholstering my spoon and pointing the rounded bowl straight at the Matriarch's chest. "I knew it! The braised pork was a Trojan Horse! A weapon disguised! This whole area is compromised!"
The crowd was definitely staring now. A teenager holding a plastic cup of papaya milk stopped dead in his tracks. The world was beginning to turn into a mess.
"WEI, stop pointing utensils at people!" A-Lan yelled, slapping the spoon down.
"Sh-she's a triple-agent, Handler! We're pinned down in a kill zone!"
"Initiate Tactical Retreat!" A-Lan ordered. She spun around, placed both tiny hands on the small of my back, and began to shove me toward the exit. "GO! Run to the transport!"
"Covering fire! Retreating!" I shouted at the civilian crowd.
I bumped past the teenager. I ducked beneath a low-hanging tarp. Behind me, I could hear the old woman weeping loudly and calling out a name that felt like a heavy ash in the back of my mouth.
Ah-Wei. AH-WEI.
The sound tolled. A phantom wave frequency meant to tear a man's mind apart. I gritted my teeth and didn't let it work.
We sprinted to the dark area of the market, where the chaotic lights vanished into shadow, and the grit swept over the parked rows of motorcycles.
I threw my leg over the Yamaha Cygnus-X. The keys were already clamped in my fist. I thumbed the ignition.
VROOMMMM!!
A-Lan scrambled onto the back, immediately securing her little arms around my chest.
"Did we shake the Matriarch?" I asked, chest heaving. The blue text was scrolling frantically over my vision.
〔 EVASIVE MANEUVERS AUTHORIZED 〕
"Yeah, Dad. We shook her. She didn't have her tactical pursuit cart today." A-Lan's voice cracked just a bit, wet and thin, but she caught herself instantly. The tone dropped right back into strict professional Handler cadence. "We secured the bio-rations and the operational funds. It's a clean getaway."
"Outstanding job, Agent."
I wiped a cold sheen of sweat from my brow. I patted the plastic grocery bag holding our contraband braised pork.
"We need a new safe zone. The Tainan Sector is entirely hostile now."
I leveled my gaze and pointed the nose of the Yamaha toward the massive black strip of highway. Towards the void of the night.
"Kaohsiung Sector," I declared. "We cross the border tonight. Total radio silence. High speed."
"O-okay..," A-Lan agreed softly, resting her helmeted chin between my shoulder blades. "Kaohsiung."
I twisted the throttle back. We launched into the obsidian street, leaving the chemical warfare of stinky tofu, the brutal artillery rings, and the weeping enemy operatives far behind.
We were riding a rusted, 125cc meteor. Moving fast. Moving bright.
And for one more night, the blue text stayed online. We were untouchable, and we were unstoppable.