The Short Second Life of Brea Erickson

Today, I was reminded of an old acquaintance of mine. She was a spy. I met her in the line of duty while serving the nation in my secret agent capacity. Brea was a double agent. She had defected from her country and was seeking asylum through my department. She wanted a new life. We granted it.

She became my shadow for a good while, following me nearly everywhere I went.

When I think about it, I never really learned much about her. I’d often hear her talking about her previous government. It was run by some tyrannical “dick-tator.” He was a Sasquatch of a man, complete with an unshapely beard and terrible eating habits. She told me and a few other agents that she wanted to defect. Most of them didn’t want to get involved, but I helped her. Without notifying my government, I helped her set up a new identity so she couldn’t be traced. I gave her financial aid to establish footing. I taught her a few techniques from my own training. She was shaping up to be a decent agent. I remember the first time she choked someone to death using the double Shakespeare, reverse Marlowe hold. I was so proud.

Brea was pretty great. It was too bad she was just a fake persona. I was completely taken back when I learned that Brea Erickson never actually existed. The double agent, called Brea, was actually a triple agent working for a completely different government, the whole time. I wasn’t some savior that rescued a fallen warrior from the desolate wastelands of her home country, I was the target.

The agent known as Brea Erickson was using an alias, one of many, I suspect. I later learned that she also went by Cali, Sativa, Butterfly, and occasionally, Lanae. I was her mark. Her entire persona was an act. Her child-like curiosity, her religious persona, her friendly demeanor—all fake. Nothing about her was real.

The entire time within my government, she plotted to take me down. I never figured out why someone like her would go after a lowly agent such as myself, but her scheme was masterful, poetic in a way.

She got close to me, close enough to learn some of my tactics and strategies. She would turn around and mimic me to get top marks on her own missions. She would then falsify my mission reports to make my “on-the-job” demeanor seem less than ethical. It lowered my standing with several of the agents in my department. She made me look bad. No matter how heavily starched my tie was or how polished my cuff links were, the other agents only saw the “fuck up” she painted me as.

Brea moved on to a new department before I could confront her about everything. When I finally caught up to her at a local Starbucks, after some months had passed, she finally admitted her crimes under interrogation. She had breached my agency. She slandered my badge. She stole my promotion. But there was nothing I could do about it now. Too much time had passed to try and clear my name. The damage had already been done. There was no recovery for me. So I did the next best thing. I pulled out the snub-nose revolver I kept on my ankle, and put a silver-dollar size hole right beneath her eyebrow. We, at “The Agency,” do not associate with known terrorists.

Today, I received a package from a courier. It was a pair of blooded, cracked glasses. The same pair Brea wore in the coffee shop the day I removed her soul from her body. Not sure if was a warning or not. Maybe someone knows what I did. Maybe Brea survived, somehow. Maybe she has a protege. I supposed it doesn’t matter. As a member of the most prestigious agency in the universe, I’ve learned to always have a contingency plan in play. If, indeed, a zombie Brea attempts to return for my brains, I have another weapon I can use against her at any time. (Queue Bad Ass Music)

“I’mma remain a soldier, til the war is won.” – Boondocks Theme Song

22 comments

  1. Ok. I have just ridden the ride you provided, with all its ups and downs, whiplash moments as well. I can see it…all. This triple agent was a bad deal and bad deals get dropped. I’m thankful the hero in the story had been able to rise above all of the drama that Brea, the Shadow, brought with her. Some people don’t care who they hurt and disable in the pursuit of their own ambitions. They simple don’t care about anyone in the path of that detrimental goal. Though they seem to triumph, they are actually not happy at all. Thanks for sharing. I thoroughly enjoy your writing style and the plots pertaining to your super-high-clearance government agency career. It is fascinating! Please continue writing in your blog!

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    • Sometimes we have to make the hard decisions and shoot people in the face. It’s the nature of the job, unfortunately. Some faces just aren’t complete until they have a silver-dollar sized hole sitting beneath their eyebrow…lol.
      I have to admit the death portion of this post was a bit dark. It was originally darker but I deleted a large chunk of the description. It originally talked about the body twitching, trying to resuscitate itself and the skin cooking in the boiling hot coffee it was lying in…etc. As cool as it is to write a death scene, it was gettin a little too “Dick Wolf” for The Thought Renaissance…lol. Dick Wolf is one of the guys over Law and Order…lol.

      Liked by 1 person

      • This was a bit of a stretch for me. I’ve written death scenes before, but I’ve never shown anyone just how graphically detailed I can be…lol. I don’t want people to think I’m a serial killer or something in disguise. The blog I’m writing now is another surprise. I’m going to post a short erotic story. I hope everyone likes it.

        Liked by 1 person

      • I’ll love it…I’ll love it a lot! Please share…I’m soooo here for it! No one thinks Stephen King is a serial killer…or Clive Barker, why would they think you are? lol We as writers sometimes have to put ourselves in certain positions in order to create a scene that our audience can see, feel, taste, smell and hear. Like if they themselves are the main character, sometimes…holding the gun.

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      • I straight up think Stephen King is a pedophile, with all the child sex and adolescent orgies that pepper his writings. So yes…as a writer…I need to be careful of the content I become known for.

        Liked by 1 person

      • It could be psychological…perhaps, something that can be enacted innocently in a book but be a desire behind closed doors…there are a few movies about writers…we should watch them…

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      • Having the desire to any degree…whether the intent to fulfill it exists or not…is already signs of sickness. Stephen King is now Stephen Pauper the Pedo…lol.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Well, then you are saying if I wrote a story about killing my neighbor and I write in exquisite detail all that is done, then that makes me a murderer? Does that make me guilty with intent?

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    • I took that photo a few hours before I finished the post. That storm knocked down trees. Someone died because they were crushed by a tree too. How macabre!

      Liked by 1 person

      • I lived through HUGO too! Hugo was trash. It barely killed anyone of importance. If you want to impress me with your survival skills…be a dinosaur and survive that “meteor.” Then…then I might start looking at you like you were John Wick…lol.

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      • I didn’t get the nickname Baba Yaga for John. The boogie man is stories to be creepy, shadowy, monstrous figure. Jog Wick let you know he was coming. He was a force! He isn’t a boogie man. He is a force of nature. When he comes near, all the animals flee the area out of instinct. He is both the storm and the calm that follows! That would’ve made for a dope ass movie review…lol.

        Liked by 1 person

      • There goes your movie review…I thought you said your blog wasn’t for movie reviews…lol *blowing raspberries*…lol Like I said, John Wick = GOAT I want to watch the first one again…

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      • Hetheru Met Djehuty = GOAT footed woman…hahahaha. That’s just a bit of Caribbean Folklore for you. I’m sure you’ve never heard of that…hahahahaha.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Of course I’ve heard of Goat Foot Woman, it’s folklore from the Virgin Islands where I’m from and I have a story about it that I’ll post…one day…lol You better not write about it! lol It’s mine!

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      • Oh..we must be talking about a different tale. I was talking about the story of the lady that fought goats with her bare hands and stole their feet to wear around her necklace for various mating rituals. We must be from different parts of the world…lol.

        Liked by 1 person

      • That sounds fabulous actually…no such thing though…lol there is no folklore about a woman that fought goats and wore their feet around her neck! lol Great imagery though! I love it!

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      • Oh…you just never heard of it. This folklore is from the South Caribbean. Way south. It’s so south, it’s practically upside down. All of the coolest people know about it. You must not be on the list…lol.

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