Throw different streets at me and I can list their attractions. Talk about a hotel and I can pinpoint it’s address in seconds. Just don’t get me started on my experiences with coworkers. As a chauffeur, I meet… interesting people. Being a driver for a secret agency, you’d kind of have to.

I speak 6 languages, I’m immune to multiple poisons, I memorize someone’s face and information at a glance, but I remember my first week on the job, I mistook a pal for an agent.

A cloudy evening and it was darker out. My car had been disguised as a taxi, nothing special. I was supposed to pick a man by the name Ames. Male, late twenties, dark skin, longer face. He came running, saying he needed me to drive to “you know where.” Obviously you can’t say “undercover agency” in public, so quickly checking his appearance I started back, knowing what he meant. Ames had bags bulging from his mission, and panted from running.

But his face… was the wrong shape. Looking closer at the bags, they’re filled with bills. I see, I thought. Seems I need to resort to plan B. When dealing with people like these, we’re supposed to take care of them ourselves. I pull over into a blocked parking lot and beckon him out.

“Sir,” I began, “what was your job?” Usually, we agents are strictly on a need to know basis. If he were Ames, he would say, “If you have access to the file you can read it there.”

“You know what it was. Don’t worry, I dealt with them.”

“Oh I’m not worried.” I said, giving him a harsh throat punch and swiftly knocked him out. Not like he needed such a merciful arrest.

Darn. Now I had to take care of him. In the car, I listened to the police station to hear which bank it’d been.

Driving back I dropped Ames’ imposter off and told the police from a borrowed phone since I didn’t have change for a pay phone. Now to get Ames. He waited impatiently and didn’t question me. As a superior, he’d see it on my file. Sighing, I drove back to the agency. At the very least, I gained experience!