It took three snoozed chimes of my alarm to wake me up before I remembered.

          Today was the day we finally struck back.

          I looked up at Derek, still sleeping and completely oblivious to the earlier ringing of my phone, chest rising and falling peacefully. The morning breeze of summer drifted in through the curtains, brushing a wild strand of hair away from his forehead.

          He stilled then let out a long, exasperated breath. "Don't tell me we have to get up now."
My lip quirked. "Afraid so."
He groaned and shuffled up the pillow, sleepy eyes waking. "Guess it's back to reality for us."
"Unfortunately." I pecked his lips and pushed onto my knees to climb out of bed. "Now, come on. We have a job to do—"
"In five minutes."
"No, we have to—"
He took me by the arms and pulled me towards him. "In five minutes."

          I wanted to move, to not rush while getting ready for work, but the warming sensation of his skin against mine made me say, "Fine. Just five minutes."

***

Half an hour later, we started getting ready as Scotty banged on the door, shouting for us to hurry up. Mindful of Monaco's climate, I buttoned up a lightweight shirt and wrapped a chunky belt around blue denim shorts. Derek tossed a beige cardigan my way and lugged a bag over his shoulder containing our overnight essentials not already stored at the agency.

          Rodriguez was scowling as we walked in.

          "Their fault – not mine," Scotty blamed. He was still shaking from the stress of being late. Even if he was usually the more unorganised one when arriving for an office day, he always managed to be right on schedule for field missions. Mostly, I was the same, but somehow all punctuality had vanished today.

          Davis pinched his smile. "And what made you so late, I wonder?"
"We slept in," Derek said blankly. The upturned corners of his mouth made me bite my cheek, holding back a blush.
"Oh, I bet you did."

          Scotty muttered under his breath while Davis fired a wink my way.
"Suppose you'll be in a good mood today, Knight."
"If I push you out the helicopter at ten-thousand feet for that look alone."
Scotty's scowl turned into a grin. "I can arrange that. Barnes too?"
"No."
He scoffed. "Forever spoiling my fun."

          Rodriguez rolled his eyes; in this room now were his supposed top agents. I had to give him credit where due. For all our disagreements in the past, he had grown more tolerant of us all. Scotty, however, still tested his patience.

          Everyone's, in fact.

          The Director ran over the plan once more, each of us watching and listening just as keenly as we did the first time. Every detail was finalised. Every bag had been triple checked. Every weapon was fully loaded with spare ammo stored within Tracey.

          We were ready.
"Good luck to you all." He dipped his head to each of us, bowing it especially low for Collins, who had remained silent from the moment the briefing began, analysing every word. "Be the agents I know you to be."
Scotty frowned. "You think we're shits."
The Director's face did not change. "You may be shits. But you're good shits."
Derek hissed through his teeth. "That's... a compliment."
"Not the finest," Davis added. "But thanks, Director."
"Yes." I forced a smile. "Thank you."

          "Righto." Scotty smacked my arm and backed out the room. "Cheers, Rodriguez. Live long and prosper." With a hand gesture, he disappeared.

          The Director's bushy brows knitted together. "Did he ever do that with Alistair?"
"He was scared of Alistair," I replied.
"Perhaps I should fire the man to frighten him into obedience."
"You did fire him," Collins reminded him. "You fired all of us."

          We looked around the room. All of us – excluding Davis – had been dismissed by the Director at one point.

          Derek clapped his hands together. "Cheery. On that note: let's go to Monaco."

***

It was not a long flight to Monaco, being three hours long, but we all found a way to unwind before the mission truly began. Scotty, as per usual, focussed on flying, while I sat in the co-pilot's seat, headphones in with music playing. I had tried reading over Veronica's file again, convinced there was something more to know, but Scotty took it away from me and had Collins hide it – and Sienna's – somewhere else within Tracey's cockpit. Our Second-in-Command had settled himself down after that and opted to read one of Fleming's works. I imagined he did not realise I had clocked onto the fact he had spent fifteen minutes on chapter four's title page while staring at Davis over the paperback cover.

          Obliviously, Davis tapped a piano game on his phone.

          Derek, meanwhile, snoozed in the cockpit. His yawns had gotten a grilling from Davis until Scotty reiterated the threat to chuck him out the helicopter doors. He fell asleep with a bothered scowl on his face.

          We hit some turbulence after an hour that jolted him awake.

          "Calm down. I'm sleeping," he snapped.
Scotty pulled a face. "It's ten in the morning. It's your own fault if you're tired."
Derek's lip quirked as he opened his mouth. "It's not my fault—"
"One word," I warned. "Just one word."

          He scowled and changed his answer. "It's not my fault you're a bad pilot." And it started.
"A bad pilot? Ha! I'm the best pilot this agency has."
"Our standards have lowered over recent years."
Scotty side-eyed me. "Haven't they just?"
"You know what—!"

          I turned the volume up on my phone and drew in my legs to cross them over the chair. Davis tapped my arm, retreating from the cockpit. I took out a headphone to listen, hearing insults firing around me.

          "Does this happen often—"
"Every mission."
"Every—?"
"Every. Mission."

          He snorted and I put the headphone back in, feigning ignorance to the conflict going on behind me, content with lounging in the eye of the storm, looking out at the clear morning sky.

          It was blissful.

***

The chateau Collins and Rodriguez arranged conjured a mix of emotions upon our arrival. Reaching two floors of stone walls with pointed blue roofs, the once-proud estate had begun to dilapidate, the right wing barely standing with wooden boards jutting out from the edges, all of them parallel to one another with emerald moss coating the sides and corners.

          Scotty sniffed the air, likely tasting the mould from the right wing. "It's falling to bits."
"We can squat in a shared room if we need to," Collins replied. "Besides: we are not guaranteed to actually be staying here. If the storm does not come, we will return to London immediately." And to our warm beds at home.
"It's just so... ugly."
"I think it's pretty." I shrugged at the gawks from Scotty and Davis. "Like a piece of the past, you know?"
"One we have to sleep in," Davis replied.
Scotty shuddered. "There better not be rats."
Derek slung a bag over his shoulder with a grunt. "Not until you walk in."
"You're sleeping in a room with this 'rat.' And I packed a razor." He eyed up Derek's chestnut hair. "Squeak, squeak." I shook my head rapidly. Not his hair. Not his hair.

          He grinned. I struggled to tell if that was a threat or reassurance. Knowing Scotty, it could have been anything.

          We met a cloud of dust upon opening the whining door and erupted in a chorus of coughs.

          "Seems healthy," Derek spluttered. "Anyone brought a duster?"
"Arthur's mop might prove useful," Davis said. Collins frowned and lingered at the back of the group. When he thought our attention was held elsewhere, he fluffed the front of his platinum locks then checked its state in the reflection of his phone screen, letting out a sigh.

          An earthy breeze followed us into the vestibule, carrying with it a cluster of pointed pine needles that made my body stiffen. They drifted over the discoloured tan and ebony tiles, coming to a halt at the foot of wide, white stone steps of which the paint crumbled and tore away under years of unpredictable weathering. They reached the second floor, meeting a wall of fanned, diamond-cut windows greased in grime. Through the columns of the white balcony, I could spy a long rug, near black with dirt, rolled down the aisle to connect the two wings upstairs, each of them sealed off by chipped oak doors. The one leading to the right wing shook under the draft, rusted hinges screeching.

          Derek sighed. "Still think this is pretty?"
"I still think it's a piece of the past."
"Now think about sleeping in this dump," Scotty added. "Just imagine the cold, and the damp, and the—"
"Cockroach!" Derek pointed at the scurrying insect zig-zagging through the vestibule.

          Someone screamed.

          The cry made Derek and Scotty angle around, both of them baffled with judgemental looks aiming my way.

          "Don't look at me," I spat. "It came from back there."

          I pointed over my shoulder at Davis – the strongest fighter of us all – who had leapt from the floor like a ballet dancer and now quivered behind the nonchalant Collins, who barely even flinched.

          Scotty and Derek could not contain their laughter. I bit my lip, drawing blood at how hard it was to rein in my own.

          "This is funny to you both?" Davis hissed. "My fear is funny to you?"

          I had to laugh.

          "Yeah, real mature of you three." He swallowed when he noted the lack of distance between him and Collins, and stepped to the side. "Bunch of adults, you are."

          Derek eased his amusement, teeth flashing white with his smile. "Oh come on, Davis, we're only having a laugh."
Scotty wiped a tear. "Yeah. Cockroaches, lad. They can be bloody deadly!" His pitch shot up as he wheezed, the sound hurting my diaphragm as I stumbled forward in heavy laughter.

          "Bastards. Immature bastards." Warily, Davis checked the floor for any signs of the beast before heading for the bottom floor of the left wing. Somehow, it had disappeared.

          He grimaced when he reached the oak door. "You see, I feel like it's on me now. Thanks a lot, you three."

          I grinned with the others, but the humour faded when a rather large brown spot ascended his back and perched on his shoulder, antennae waving at us.

          My mouth opened and closed, dumbstruck sounds coming from it as I looked to Derek then Scotty for what to say. They spotted it too.

          "Adam," Collins said. Davis stopped and spun around. "It's on your shoulder."
Davis snorted. "Very funny. Surprising from you, though, I'll give you that."
"But—"
I waved a hand to stop him. Just leave it, I mouthed. Collins gulped.

          The door shut behind Davis.

          Scotty made a break for the front door. "I'll finish unpacking."
I followed. "I'm going with you."
"I'll find a suitable room for us to sleep in," Collins said. "We should bunk as a group. That way we can keep the heat all in one room and won't freeze to death."
"How sweet," Scotty groaned, rolling his eyes.
"I'm going to go—" Derek looked around, desperate to find somewhere else to be rather than outside the door of the room Davis had entered. "—anywhere else."

          We split up, all of us heading in separate directions. Derek chose to enter the back area of the chateau through the door by the stairs, while Collins headed up them.

          "Sleeping in a room with you four?" Scotty grumbled. "Oh, the joy of it. I might just sleep with darling Tracey. There's enough room for me there."
"And when Sienna's followers come looking for her, where will you run? Only one exit from Tracey."
He frowned. "Fair point."

          Only as we shut the front door behind us did we hear the deafening screech erupt from the left wing, shaking whatever glass the building had left.

          Scotty grinned like a fox. "Someone found the cockroach."

QOTD: Anyone else have a fear of cockroaches like Davis?