Espionage isn't romantic. It's gritty hard work. For hundreds of years this art has been perfected and culminated in the newest breed of techniques, technology ... and agents.
One only has to look at the fine tools that have gathered today. Amidst the tall, handsome and beautiful agents one can also find the ones that do ... everyday work. Here they look out of place, out there they might not even exist, nobody cares if they appear or disappear, because they always do.
I am one of those. A tool like everyone else. Just a lot more generic. I am what the job requires me to be.
As I pass the restrooms on my way to ... where I was guided ... I caught a glimpse of my own reflection. Long white hair ... wrinkly skin ... wearing a colorful Asian dress. Hmm ... a little conspicuous but fitting the occasion.
As I closed towards the first staff I searched for my name ... weird ... there wasn't one. Usually ... well I can't remember what is usually but one might think they would give me a name.
Wait. There is something.
"Hello. I am 6c-6f-6d."
To this I added a smile that could only come from 'someone like me'.
"Of course.", was the reply. Followed by a friendly gesture towards the crowd.
I, somehow, recognized some of the crowd. Quite some royalty here ...
On the edge of my vision I registered some blinking.
Weird ... did that blue box just flirt with me?