I landed in JFK Airport, New York, America, with these self-destructive thoughts very much in mind. As the aeroplane finally came to a stop on the runway, they disappeared, as my mind turned to my mission. Breezing through the remaining part of the airport, I reached the exit and smiled; America was certainly much warmer than London. As I stood outside the airport, soaking in the sunlight, I noticed a man, dressed in black approach, clutching a small briefcase. As he drew nearer, I remembered my briefing, in which it stated that I could collect my weapons and ammunition from another UIE Special Agent. Finally stopping beside me, we showed each other the black wristbands we wore, a sign to agents in the area that we were one of them. Three neon numbers, 414, appeared on the small screen. His agent code, 357, shortly followed. He handed me the briefcase, saying,
“You’re brave to take on this mission. Many of our agents have already tried to find and destroy the cause, but they have all succumbed to the illness.” I nodded in understanding. “Not much of a talker, are you?” I opened my mouth in reply. “Oh, I’m sorry, I had no idea. I wish you all the best. Good luck.” Walking away from the inflating embarrassment that silence often brought me, the agent called, “Wait!” I turned and returned to the agent. He pressed a key and some folded clothes into my hands, and pointed across the road. I almost squealed - on the other side of the road I saw a motorbike, the Honda ST1300A, a menace in jet-black and silver. It invited me to wrap my legs about its seductive framework and press my thighs against the leather seat. As the agent waited for my return, I slipped into a nearby public toilet to change into the leathers he had given me. Having done so, I waited for an ebb in the traffic, before crossing the road to fulfil my desires. I opened the storage compartment, set the two briefcases inside and closed the lid. Then I turned to face the windscreen, placed the helmet over my head and started up the engine. Drinking the satisfying sound as the engine murmured a few times as I warmed it, Agent 357 saluted, a gesture I returned, before I grabbed the handles, placed my foot onto the footrest and forced down the accelerator so hard, the engine roared deliciously. Engulfed in this mechanical symphony, I set off down the road. As I drove, a special addition on the UIE’s part became apparent; my wristband began to glow as the interface on the bike responded with a similar light.
“Hello, Myra Asthore, Agent 414. How may I be of assistance?” I punched in a code on my wristband, asking the voice to bring up the satellite navigation system. The system obeyed. I looked down at the interface to see a view of America, before it zoomed in on the flashing icon I presumed was me. Smiling, I revved the engine, relishing the sudden increase in speed. The sky was blue and suspended low over the earth, wrapping its arms around America, keeping it warm. As I gazed up into the cloudless abyss, I heard a slow bleeping sound on the satellite navigation system. Examining the interface, I gasped.
“Warning. Enemies in close proximity. Draw your weapons.” I obeyed the voice and, in one slick movement, I turned backwards on the seat, my feet controlling the speed of the bike, while I opened the rear compartment, then the briefcase, drawing out a sniper rifle and holstering my handgun. “Corner approaching. Please act accordingly.” I twisted on the seat, so that I now faced the windscreen once more.
Suddenly, a bullet ricocheted off the windscreen. I released the safety catch on my rifle and examined the interface for the glowing red icons which represented my enemies, as another bullet glanced off the bike. Having discovered the location of my enemy on the screen, I mapped it onto the road using the crosshair; I took aim, and fired. The bombardment of bullets no longer came from ahead of me. Locating the last of my enemies, I parted with my deadly wisdom with a bang. As the screen became devoid of red, I smiled, safe again. I swung my rifle over my shoulder, gripped the bike handles and caused the engine to roar once more, the coastline opening up before me. The sea shimmered, a passionate azure, as the Honda growled, powering through the wide lonely roads, searching for the point at which arid desert met with the deep blue bowl of life.