Georgetown

Washington, DC

Oakwood Apartments

December 19th, 2015

0955 hours

(Author's Note: non-canon details imminent... then again, this is Wattpad, so you shouldn't really be surprised.)

Zoe POV

"And that, everyone, is how it's gonna go down!" I finished before taking another bite of my biscuit while gesturing with my left hand.

I had just explained the little plan that Jawa, Mike, and I concocted. Everyone else sat around the table with a variety of expressions. Mike and Jawa were nodding along in silent support; Chip, Catherine, and Alexander were exchanging excited grins; Cyrus seemed bored; and Ben was quiet, maintaining a countenance of indifference.

"A very interesting concept," Catherine said as she sipped her tea. "I think it will certainly brighten the whole experience of this little vacation."

"I suppose it's feasible," Cyrus sighed. Of course Mr. Grinch would be reluctant.

I mean, I supposed he would rather spend time with just his family, but we had bigger problems for the time being!

"Just one caveat: everyone's gotta turn off their spy skills so as to not ruin any surprises," Alexander added.

'Gee, I wonder who that applies to,' I thought sarcastically.

'None other than Erica Hale,' a little voice replied suddenly.

'Wait, who are you?' I asked, confused.

'I'm basically an imaginary clone of you that serves as a mental sounding board. The author put me here for the sake of humor.'

'Author?'

'Be honest: everything that's occurred in your life sounds like something out of a teen/young adult novel, yes?'

'I mean...'

'That or a crazy fanfiction. Heck, the life you're living right now sounds like a fanfic written by some idiot with too much time on their hands. Or maybe even a sitcom... Anyways, Erica has to get involved too, no matter how hesitant she is!'

Speak of the devil—she-devil?—Erica just opened the door and stepped inside, looking peeved, although I can't imagine what got her panties in a twist.

"Hello, Erica dear! Did you have a nice walk?" Catherine asked pleasantly. Always the ray of sunshine, this lady.

"Oh, and there's some pancakes, biscuits, and eggs in the kitchen if you want 'em," Alexander added as he sipped his coffee.

I honestly can't believe that, for a former moron of a CIA officer, he's one helluva cook. This man should open up his own restaurant when he retires, for goodness' sake!

"I'm good, Dad. Thanks," she replied quickly, sitting between Cyrus and Catherine.

"Hey, Erica? You've got something on your lip," Ben said, pointing at a brown smudge on the left corner of her mouth. Was that... chocolate?

"Someone's been having fun," I muttered under my breath, too quiet for anyone to hear.

"Nuts!" she cursed, hastily wiping her mouth. "Er... thanks, Ben." Interestingly, she seemed almost embarrassed that Ben caught that little detail.

"No problem."

"Okay, it sounds like you've got a plan. What's going on, Zoe?" she asked me, looking curious.

In case you're wondering how exactly Erica is showing interest and acting like a normal teenage girl (at least, more than ever before), the answer is... you guessed it, Ben! Thanks to him dragging her along whenever the gang got together, she's gotten better at interacting with other human beings. This is mainly limited to interactions with us, but she thankfully no longer feels the urge to decapitate every human being she dislikes. Suffice to say, we've all (save for Cyrus) played our role in mellowing out the Ice Queen, though as Jawa has observed, the title doesn't apply as much as it used to.

Erica and Ben seemed to have rubbed off on each other over the past year and a half, with each adopting a part of the other's personality.

"So... you know how Christmas is in six days?" I began. "The one issue we haven't discussed is gift-giving. We've decided to do a Secret Santa, in which you have to stay within a $50.00 price limit. You can get gifts for everyone else if you'd like, but there has to be one special item for your recipient."

"... correct me if I'm wrong, but that seems like a very uneventful plan."

"Hold your horses, Erica," Mike interjected. "We're also going to have our own version of the Winter Olympics. We call it: the Company Christmas Games!"

"'Company?'" Ben asked, confused.

"One of the Agency's nicknames is 'The Company,' so it's quite fitting," Alexander explained.

"I came up with the name!" Jawa added happily.

"And what exactly are the events?" Erica asked.

"It's a surprise!"

"Figures. Any other plans?"

"We've got some, but they'll be introduced when ready!" I answered cheerfully.

"You don't have anything else planned, do you?" Ben asked skeptically.

"... Spoilsport," Mike pouted, eliciting a small laugh from Erica.

"Nice, Ripley," she snickered, with him shooting her a smile in return.

"But yeah, that's the plan!" Jawa finished.

"Hang on," Erica said with a tone of realization. "Did you, Mike, and Zoe plan this?"

"Yep!"

"Am I the only one detecting irony?"

"What, that the three people that just planned out activities for a Christmas party technically have no reason to celebrate Christmas?" Mike replied sarcastically, making us all laugh (except for Cyrus, but that should be obvious).

If you're confused, then it's okay. Allow me to explain. Sit back and grab some popcorn, 'cause it's gonna be a long one.

Now, the Hales and Ben all have roots tracing directly back to England, so their collective family history is relatively simple. It's a bit different for the rest of us.

My family as well as Chip's originated in Germany. However, Chip's ancestors immigrated to the Americas in the 18th century when Prussia was still a thing, while mine immigrated in the late 1930s to escape the anti-Semetic persecution of Nazi Germany. Chip's family went South (where Protestantism reigned) while mine went to, and stayed in, New York (staying Jewish).

And yes, my New York heritage is exactly why I'm always talking loudly, using my hands to communicate, and speaking in a New York accent (I'm from Brooklyn, specifically).

Mike, like me, is also Jewish. However, his roots are Polish, and his family immigrated to the Americas in the 19th century during the Industrial Revolution, searching for work. The Brezinski family underwent several trials and tribulations, moving around the country, until Mike's great-grandparents settled in Virginia in the early 1930s, and the family remains there to this day.

And finally, there's Jawa, whose mother immigrated to the US from southwest India in the final quarter of the 20th century. She met Jawa's father, a multiracial (but primarily Irish) man in California. While Mr. O'Shea is agnostic, Mrs. O'Shea is Hindu, and Jawa also practices Hinduism.

Interestingly, despite us all not celebrating the same holidays, we still share them with each other (sort of...), generally because since we cannot celebrate with our families, we celebrate with our little CIA family (hey, holidays are always better with company). For example, earlier in the month, while Mike and I were celebrating Hanukkah, we invited others to join us (not so much celebrating as participating in festivities). This included the lighting of the menorah and making latkes and rugelach.

Plus, the first time we all celebrated together last year, Mike and I surprised everyone (seriously, Chip's jaw literally dropped in shock, which was understandable as the only two religions he had serious interaction with were Christianity because of his upbringing and Hinduism via Jawa) when we explained that Hanukkah is of relatively minor significance in Jewish calendar, especially when compared to Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the Jewish year during which adults fast for the day (trust me, Mike and I found that day very challenging; it was never the same after my Bat Mitzvah at twelve and Mike's Bar Mitzvah at thirteen; Author's Note: this is factual information according to my research).

In November, when Jawa was celebrating Diwali, he invited us to join him. This included fireworks, lighting oil lamps, and trying traditional Indian foods such as jalebi and ladoo. While we all loved the fireworks, it was unanimous that the food was absolutely fabulous and should be on everyone's culinary bucket list (Author's Note: a friend once introduced me to Indian food... it's seriously delicious and I recommend that you try it; also, the preceding information is factual according to my research).

And now, as the Hales, Ben, and Chip celebrate Christmas (with all being some denomination of Christian, save for Ben, Erica, and Cyrus being agnostics from what I can tell), the rest of us tag along to participate. Long story short, we share holidays not only for the sake of spending time together (if we can't be with blood family, we're with our Agency family), but so that we get to learn about each others' different cultures. I'm willing to bet money that the last couple years of us inviting each other to holidays have been a better teaching experience than anything even a tier one university could provide (my parents and relatives have told me some crazy stories... a lot of degree-holders are idiots, as it seems, and they are generally found in the areas outside of the hard sciences).

On a side note, I suppose you could say that us learning about each other's cultures is also useful practice for the future, considering that the CIA's main job is intelligence gathering and analysis. This can include covert action in which officers take on deep covers, which involves being able to adopt the local customs.

While we spent time together (especially since we couldn't celebrate holidays with our own families), I noticed that every time, Ben was on the reclusive side (at least, for the past one-and-a-half years). Mike all but dragged him away from burying himself in his textbooks. Heck, it was easier to get Erica involved!

Said girl just broke her expression of concentration, replacing it with what appeared to be confusion.

"Hold on, I just realized. We're going to be inside doing homework for the whole rest of the day?!?" Erica asked incredulously. I have to admit, it was a good question, considering that all of our homework wouldn't take more than six hours.

"There's a blizzard inbound, ETA four hours. It's going to be raging until sometime tomorrow morning," Cyrus explained flatly.

"Ah."

"Wait, how did I forget that?!?" Catherine exclaimed, face-palming. Alexander had a similar expression of disbelief.

"Did you two not check the forecast?" Cyrus asked tersely.

"Er..."

"Let's just go get what we need," Cyrus grumbled as he downed the last of his coffee before stacking his dishes and taking them to the sink. His grumpiness had dampened the mood dramatically, but I knew we had bigger fish to fry, so I looked past it.

"Hey, it'll be fine! Maybe we can find a tree and some decorations while we're at it!" Chip intervened, trying to brighten the mood.

"It's six days until Christmas. I'll pay you five dollars if you manage to find a tree at this time," Erica snorted, her teenage side exposed again.

Two hours later...

"For the last time, Schacter! I'm not paying you five dollars!"

"You made the bet in front of all these witnesses, Hale! Pay up!"

We were driving back to the apartment, crammed together in the SUV with some lanterns, batteries, power packs, bottled water, non-perishable groceries, bagged ice, coolers, and other gear in preparation for a possible blackout (Cyrus drove separately in his old compact, transporting extra groceries). To top it all off, Chip had found a tree... sort of.

It was a plastic tree in a box with some assembly required, and it came with a box of decorations as well. And now, I was in the back sandwiched between Jawa and Ben. Chip and Erica were bickering about the bet while poor Mike was sandwiched between the two idiots.

'Poor thing...' I thought sympathetically (or rather, empathetically, as I had to deal with the same bull).

'Someone's concerned,' said that voice.

'Will you just be quiet?!?'

'Hey, the author's paying me by the hour.'

'WHO IS THE AUTHOR?!?'

'Well, I can assure you that God is not the author. The real author is nowhere near godliness due to human imperfection.'

'Was that supposed to be deep?'

'Yes, but I have no idea where I was going with my thoughts. But it makes sense, since I'm a part of your mind, and therefore limited by your tiny mind.'

'... LISTEN HERE, YOU LITTLE BI—'

"This is gonna be a long drive back," Ben muttered. I could almost hear my annoying voice laughing maniacally.

Several hours later...

"Well, th-this is a delightful way to s-start out the b-break," Jawa shivered, wrapping his blanket tighter around him as he tried to stay warm.

We made it back from our impromptu shopping trip and continued working on our homework. Several times over the hours, when Ben needed help with learning various concepts for his work, everyone else acted like they were either too busy or didn't understand. Subsequently, he ended up going to Erica several times, during which the two were initially hesitant, but over time, were acting like dedicated study partners.

This was certainly a step in the right direction, but there was one simple problem: while the two were certainly helping each other (Ben was helping with some math problems, including the physics behind sniper shots), there wasn't even friendliness in the air. They weren't rude, but they were professional, focusing exclusively on their work and somehow avoiding the other in every other manner possible.

'Of course they're doing this,' I thought. The lack of response from my imaginary clone was nothing less than a relief.

Meanwhile, the blizzard had begun, and things were initially going well. However, things quickly got out of hand when the power went out. We lost all lighting, Wi-Fi access, and heating. Despite the latter being run on natural gas, the electrical components integrated within the heating system were crippled by the lack of power. The only utilities still operational were water and natural gas for the stove and fireplace.

Speaking of which, the adults were still working on getting the fireplace up and running. As for the rest of us, we were all wearing coats and huddled under blankets.

Jawa, Mike, and Ben seemed to have it the worst, thanks to the former growing up in California and the latter two living in the (generally speaking) warm state of Virginia. Chip, despite being a North Carolinian, seemed to be handling the cold pretty well, likely due to him being a bigger guy overall. Erica being Erica, seemed to somehow be handling it slightly better than Chip, although I'm positive that the only reason she's feeling better than Chip is that she's a freak of nature. As for me, I was somewhere between Chip and Erica, having dealt with New York winters, but still being a relatively small person (I'm shorter than everyone else, standing at five foot two).

"And... there!" Cyrus announced as the fire began roaring.

"Scoot up, folks. I'll work on hot cocoa," Alexander ordered, rising to his feet. "Cath, a little help?"

"Sure, dear," Catherine replied as Alexander pulled her up. "Cyrus?"

"Might as well make some coffee," he said as he stood. The adults then went over to the kitchen while the rest of us gathered around the fireplace, trying to stay warm. I sat between Chip and Mike, Ben sat between Mike and Erica, and Jawa sat next to Chip.

"You think our parents are keeping up with the news?" Chip asked, rubbing his hands together.

"If they aren't c-calling in now, they'll call in e-eventually," Jawa answered.

"Zoe, I don't suppose we're starting the Agency Holiday Games tonight," Erica said.

"'Company Ch-Christmas Games,' Erica," Ben corrected, turning to his right. The two turned towards each other, only then realizing just how close they were to each other, their noses being only an inch apart. After a few moments of awkward silence, Erica scooted away.

"Er, sorry," she said.

"My fault," he said simultaneously. Their overlapping voices only plunged us into another bout of awkward silence.

'ERICA, YOU DOLT! YOU STUPID MORON!' I screamed internally, frustrated at their awkwardness. I know I shouldn't be hell-bent on shipping my friends, especially since it's their private lives, but I can't help it!

I'm a teenager, after all! We do stupid things all the time!

"You g-good, bro?" Mike stammered, breaking the silence and holding up one end of the blanket. "Cold, i-isn't it?"

"Y-yeah," Ben shakily replied, scooting under the blanket. Mike then turned towards me, raising the other end of his blanket.

'That's sweet of him,' a shrill voice said in my head. 'You wish to join him, Mrs. Brezinski?'

'Yeah... WAIT, WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?'

'"Mrs. Brezinski?" Am I wrong, sweetheart?'

'No... YES! We're not even married yet!'

'"Yet?"'

'No, I mean... AGH! SHUT UP! DAMN YOU AUTHOR! DAMN YOU!'

"Hello? Earth to Zoe? Earth to Zoe?"

I was broken out of my reverie by Mike continually poking me in my side. He, along with everyone else, was looking at me quizzically.

"Hm, say what?"

"Loverboy was offering to share heat," Chip said bluntly.

"I am not a 'loverboy!'" Mike spluttered embarrassedly.

"Oh, hush. You've been in more romantic relationships than all of us combined, Mr. Player!" Chip scolded.

"True. I've had no girlfriends, Chip's had four 'girl friends—'" Jawa began.

"I messed up the terminology one time, bro. One time, when I didn't know the difference between a girlfriend and a friend that happened to be a girl!" Chip interrupted in an annoyed voice.

"Dude, that was hilarious the way Hannah—was that Hannah?—told me," Jawa snickered. "But that's a story for another day. I'm guessing Zoe and Erica have had at least one boyfriend, and Ben is at ground zero like me and Chip."

"But yes, you've got a higher date count than all of us combined, Brezinski!" Chip finished.

Okay, now Jawa is correct that I've had at least one boyfriend. Specifically, I've dated two guys, although both of those were unbelievably brief. One guy was a friend in New York that ended up moving out due to his dad's job, the other was a jerk and a player at Spy School (somewhat like Mike, but with way less morals), shortly before Ben showed up.

And no, nothing ever happened with Warren Reeves. Although, in retrospect, that brief dating period before Ben arrived did explain why Warren avoided me for a while.

"I've never had a boyfriend," Erica stated firmly.

"What about J—ow!" Mike began before Chip reached around me and whacked him on the shoulder.

"You need to pay more attention to Interrogation 301, Brezinski," the southerner said sternly. "Erica didn't show any tells."

Now, I wasn't sure whether Chip could even determine whether or not Erica was lying. But, I understood the underlying message: don't talk about Joshua Hallal. The idea was to not bring up Ben's bad memories, after all.

"But yes, Mike, you're basically a younger version of Alexander, considering your high body count," Jawa said.

"Excuse me, what's this about my body count?" Alexander asked as he walked back into the living room, carrying a tray with several mugs of steaming hot chocolate on it.

"What, indeed?" Catherine added as she walked in with a tray of snacks. Interestingly, her tone seemed to get cooler, as if extremely annoyed at the mention of Alexander's body count.

'Ooooh, someone's jealous,' the annoying voice said.

'For once, I agree with you.'

'Is that right, Mrs. Brezinski?'

'SHUT UP BIT—'

'LANGUAGE!'

"You kids and your fornications," Cyrus muttered as he entered with a mug of coffee.

"Forni-what?" Mike asked, confusedly.

"Intercourse between unmarried people," Chip explained bluntly,

"Not what he meant!" Mike hurriedly replied with a blush (or maybe it was the glow of the fire). "He meant... the body count in Call of Duty!"

"I see... but wouldn't the appropriate term be 'kill count?'" Catherine asked. Interestingly, she seemed more at ease discussing the number of people Alexander has killed than the number of women he's slept with. It's a bit disturbing, but who understands the mind of an MI6 officer specializing in covert action?

'Probably the man that understands her body better than anyone else,' the annoying voice said.

'EW! EW! I DID NOT NEED THAT IMAGE IN MY HEAD!'

'Remember, I'm just an extension of you, so—'

'Oh, shut up! CURSE YOU, UNKNOWN AUTHOR!'

Sad to say, I've got a very dirty mind, only matched by Mike's.

"I suppose so," Alexander pondered aloud. "But I do not know my actual kill count, and I'd rather not know. Besides, I've never played Call of Duty in my life."

"I got it!" Jawa exclaimed, clapping his hands. "I've got an idea for the Company Christmas Games!"

"Teaching me how to play Call of Duty?"

"No, sir! It's even better!"

"Care to tell us, brother?" Chip asked.

"Nope! It's a surprise!"

Jawa's declaration left us all wondering what he had planned. But, considering that Brainiac was planning it, it was bound to be a good plan.

Our curiosity had plunged us, once again, into silence. We all sipped our cocoa, moving minimally and getting lost in our own individual thoughts. It reminded me of the times my family and I spent time together by the fireplace, except we were considerably louder and more talkative (again... we're New Yorkers).

After an unknown amount of time, I began hearing a voice coming from my right.

Mike, as it seems, was trying to break the silence.

https://youtu.be/8mC4PfgIxJk

(To get a general feel for the situation, listen and sing along!  I do not own the song, nor the video...)

Her name is Noelle

I have a dream about her

She rings my bell

I got gym class in half an hour

I heard new noises to my left. Jawa was also joining in, beatboxing.

Oh, how she rocks

In Keds and tube socks

But she doesn't know who I am

And she doesn't give a damn about me

At this point, I had no choice but to join in on this classic song.

Cause I'm just a teenage dirtbag baby

Yeah, I'm just a teenage dirtbag baby

Listen to Iron Maiden baby with me

Ooohoo hoo hooooooo

Her boyfriend's a dick

He brings a gun to school

And he'd simply kick

My ass if he knew the truth

He lives on my block

And he drives an IROC

But he doesn't know who I am

And he doesn't give a damn about me

By this point, Mike, Ben, and I were singing; Jawa was beatboxing with the rhythm; Chip, Catherine, and Alexander were snapping and nodding along with the beat; all the while, Erica and Cyrus maintained stone-faced expressions, although I was willing to bet money that the former was rather confused.

Cause I'm just a teenage dirtbag baby

Yeah, I'm just a teenage dirtbag baby

Listen to Iron Maiden baby with me

Ooohoo hoo hooooooo

Oh yeah, dirtbag

No, she doesn't know what she's missing

Oh yeah, dirtbag

No, she doesn't know what she's missing

Man I feel like mould

It's prom night and I am lonely

Lo and behold

She's walking over to me

Suddenly, Chip and Jawa joined in on the singing, bringing in new pitches.

This must be fake

My lip starts to shake

How does she know who I am?

And why does she give a damn about me?

She says, "I've got two tickets to Iron Maiden Baby

Come with me Friday, don't say maybe

I'm just a teenage dirtbag baby like you"

Ooohoo hoo hooooooo

Oh yeah, dirtbag

No, she doesn't know what she's missing

Oh yeah, dirtbag

No, she doesn't know what she's missing

"Thank you, Mike," Chip said in a serious voice soon after our little a cappella performance.

"Thank you, Chip!" Mike replied in an overenthusiastic voice. I couldn't help but giggle at just how silly he sounded.

'Something funny Mrs—' the annoying voice began.

'BEGONE, THOT!' I replied angrily, suppressing that utterly grotesque part of my mind (I've been using a word-of-the-day calendar Jawa got me for my birthday, sue me).

"Yo, Chip, doesn't this remind you of something? Y'know, that HBO show?" Jawa asked.

"Oh, yeah. That was a good show, wasn't it?" Chip replied enigmatically.

"What are you talking about?" Ben asked confusedly, causing the aforementioned best friends to share a glance before turning back towards our resident mathematician.

"Let's just say it's a story for another day, bro," Jawa replied, sounding like a suspense movie narrator. "Besides, this ain't something you'd like," he continued, shooting a glance towards me.

My mind went back into Hotel Charlie-mode as I realized what Jawa was trying to communicate: whatever this inside joke was, it wasn't a topic to be discussed today. Another day, but not today.

Now, I let my mind wander as I sat with my friends in front of the warm fire, trying to appreciate the peace. Yet, one thought kept nagging me:

Would Operation Holiday Cheer succeed?

Yes, I know it's been a while.  And in regards to updates, there's no set schedule.  Sorry, folks.

Anyone catch the reference Chip and Jawa were talking about?

In case you're debating the characteristics I've assigned to the characters, consider this: we have practically no details on everyone's backstory. Thus, I decided to get creative and figure some stuff out from context, both for realism and to fit my own vision. These details will have importance in the story.

Also, I realized that I accidentally screwed up a bunch of other details: there are seven years in the Academy, not six; the Academy is in Washington, DC, but I think I messed up some of the nuanced location details; etc. Furthermore, in my striving for realism, I may remove some abilities/details from people and replace them with others.

Why? There are too many things that just don't add up. A prime example: the fighting prowess of people.

To be perfectly frank, when I labeled Ben and Erica as the top two officers-in-training, I did not by any means declare them the most powerful, but simply as the best. If it were straight-up CQC and CQB, Chip would win almost every time.

The dude is a literal wall of meat and the Spy School "heavy weapons guy." Heck, he likely beats Cyrus in pure strength. The only reasons Chip and Jawa were freaked out at Ben's training rage episodes (as mentioned in a previous chapter) were that they were a shock and that Ben was looking murderous.

Anyways, the main reason why I'm declaring Erica as nearly unbeatable is not that she can beat up everyone she meets (perhaps if the battle were purely skill, with physical attributes being irrelevant), but because of a varied skillset. When one of the students mentions a fight, they don't mean two people getting in the ring and slugging it out, but an "anything goes"-situation: CQC, CQB, sniping, booby traps, blackmail, etc. Ben would be the same way in this universe.

So whenever Ben said only a few people could beat Erica in a fight, it would be one where anything goes. So while Woods and Bowman could literally pound her into the ground, Erica could beat other professors and students by killing them from afar (we know she has good marksmanship) or setting up some sort of booby-traps.

Also, hand-to-hand combat? No... just no. Not in the real world. I will bet big money that even the baddest special operators aren't tier one martial artists, and they've likely have never used their knives beyond opening MREs or packages. This isn't Call of Duty, people. Melee takedowns are useless when it's more efficient and reliable to just shoot the target.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk, and please forgive my (possible) mutilation of the Spy School universe via my realism obsession.

Until next time.

- ADF-2