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Connor can’t figure out what to wear to this New Year’s Eve party. The Karnes family seems pretty fancy, but he’s not sure it’s suit and tie level. He puts on and takes off three whole outfits-- first a tux (too fancy) then jeans and a t-shirt (too drab) then khakis and a polo (too white-dad)-- before settling on slacks and a sweater over a collared shirt. He rolls the sleeves to mid-forearm then reaches for a nearly-unused bottle of hair gel, but stops when he catches a glimpse of the clock on the bathroom wall.
Shit.
Connor doubts all of his life decisions as he drives to the party. Especially the decisions that have led him to step out of his rickety, rust-covered pickup truck wearing clothes that make him look like a ninety-year-old English professor. All he’s missing is a tweed blazer with elbow patches, for fuck’s sake. He’s certain that someone at the party-- Claire, probably-- is going to sense his insecurity and make fun of him for it.
But he walks up the steps into the private top floor of the restaurant and Claire greets him with a smile. She gives his outfit a once-over glance and looks like she approves, then pushes a drink into his hand and ushers him over to where Karina is talking with a few other agents. Claire introduces them as Garth Hansen, Karina’s handler, and Robert Forrest, a freelance agent and friend of Mr. Karnes’s. Connor recognizes Hansen’s name and stores this information away for later, then stays on the periphery of the conversation, letting his mind wander. Before he knows it’s happening, he’s studying the curve of Karina’s lips, watching them touch together as they move, and it’s hypnotizing really: they’re stretching and quirking, and he’s certain that if he watches for a second longer he’ll understand what J.M. Barrie meant when writing about the kiss living in the corner of Mrs. Darling’s mouth.
“...prodigy unit,” Forrest is saying, and Connor snaps back to reality. Karina’s mouth slowly releases its smile, the corners of her lips sliding downward. There’s a tension settling in her eyebrows, a weariness in her eyelids. She nods.
Connor catches Forrest’s voice again. “You know, when admin asked me to put 412 together, I wasn’t sure that an all-prodigy unit would work out. I figured that we would need some kind of adult supervision. But, you know, they all have handlers, so it works out.”
Connor has to stop and think for a minute. Adult supervision? All-prodigy unit? He lets this stew in his mind as he heads to the buffet, filling a plate with pulled pork, cornichons, and weird kinds of cheeses. Doug, his handler, is there, loading his plate with manchego.
“Doug,” Connor exclaims, and Doug greets him. They trade pleasantries and then, when Connor’s confident that Doug is tipsy enough to not suspect the question, Connor makes his move. “So what’s up with 412? Are they a specialty unit or something?”
Doug takes another gulp from his gin and tonic before answering. “Oh, god, that clusterfuck,” he sighs. “It’s a long story. Need-to-know basis.”
Connor waits, knowing that Doug will expound if given an empty space to fill.
Sure enough, after a few seconds’ silence, Doug continues. “I mean, we practically had to twist Karnes’s arm to let us assign Karina there.”
“Why?”
“Karnes didn’t want her in the field yet.”
Connor wonders if Doug’s going to clam up, but Doug continues before Connor has to press further. “He wanted us to wait till she was at least sixteen, but with Judith Mutig demanding her own unit, we all knew that wasn’t gonna happen.”
Connor furrows his eyebrows, trying to avoid passing judgement without adequate information. “How old was she when 412 was formed?”
Doug thinks for a second. “Twel-- no, thirteen. She did training programs and deferments for a few years, but they finally ran out of excuses and we had to put her in the field.”
Connor has to take a minute to compose himself. Maybe it’s the screwdriver Claire gave him, but he’s feeling hot. “Is this standard procedure?”
Doug thinks for a second. “Sometimes. It depends. At any time, there are a few hundred kids in training, mostly orphans we’ve selected, but some are also agents’ kids. This is the first kids’ unit we’ve put together but sometimes we’ll put a kid in the field if they’re promising.”
Connor digs his hands into his pockets to hide the fact that he’s balling them into fists. “So you’re basically saying that we turn kids into child soldiers?”
Doug takes a step back, blinks. “They’re not child soldiers, they-- they’re prodigy intelligence agents.”
Connor swallows. “Do they kill people?”
Doug looks away. “I don’t know, probably. It’s part of the job.”
“Then they’re child soldiers.”
Doug lets out a small, forced laugh. “Well, Mutig killed a helluva lot of people before she joined us. We didn’t do anything there.”
“And the others?” Connor asks, and he knows Doug has to stop there. Karina, at least, has both parents and neither would have let her hurt anyone. He doubts Claire and Michael would have turned into assassins without I-3’s prodding.
Doug takes a long minute, then continues. “You gotta admit, though, they’re good.”
Connor sighs and turns away. He’s not going to do this, not tonight, when all he really wanted to do was see Karina’s smile under the strings of lights hung from the ceiling. But then he sees her, sipping her soda and laughing at Michael’s funny faces. She’s not even old enough to legally drink alcohol. And, before he really formulates a plan, he’s rushing over to her.
He grabs her arm, not ungently. “Karina.”
“Connor!” She exclaims, and pats his arm, deftly extricating herself from his grasp. “I’m so glad you made it.”
And, pinned by her gaze, he realizes two things. First, he realizes how much he wants to keep her away from anything that might ever force that smile off her face.
Second, he realizes how little of a plan he has.
“Can--” he manages-- “can I talk to you-- privately?”
Karina’s eyebrows shoot up, but she nods and leads him through a small fire-exit door onto the roof. Their breath condenses in the air as Karina walks to the edge of the roof and looks out. There’s no wall, nothing to keep her from stepping into space and falling to the concrete below.
She turns to face him. “Well?”
He takes a deep breath. “Karina-- I-- um,” he stammers, then just fucking takes the plunge. “I can get you out of here.”
It’s a long second before the confusion on her face melts. When she finally stops scrunching her face in worry, he notices her eyes: god, they’re huge.
She glances away. “Connor,” she ventures, “I don’t think you understand.”
Connor takes a step towards her. She instantly moves backward, towards the edge.
“What don’t I understand?” he answers. “I know you were a child soldier. They forced you into this. And I can get you out.”
She laughs a little, but it’s dry and dies in the cold air. “Who told you?”
“Doug,” Connor replies.
She nods. “Listen. I like my job. I get to help people.”
“But training you for this since you were thirteen? Karina, that’s not right.”
Karina scoffs and turns away. “First of all, I started training when I was nine.” She hugs herself tight, rubs her shoulders. “Second, it’s all I’ve ever known. I don’t think I could do anything else at this point. And it’s not like corporate would actually let me leave anyway.”
Connor unbuttons his sweater and drapes it over Karina’s shoulders. “Screw corporate. We could just leave. We’re good enough-- you’re good enough. We could drop off the grid. I’ve got contacts in the Sierra Madres, Bogota, even Sao Paulo. We could make it work.”
Karina just shrugs the sweater closer around her shoulders.
Connor runs a hand through his hair and breathes heavily. He grabs one of her tiny, calloused hands. “Come on. Let’s do it. Get Judith and Claire and Michael. Meet me in the parking lot in fifteen minutes.”
Karina furrows her eyebrows and pulls her hand away. “No.” Her voice trails upwards at the end, almost like a question. “Connor, no. You can’t just show up and expect me to drop my entire life like this.”
Connor makes an incredulous noise. “But you-- corporate-- this is abuse.”
Karina looks away. “You know what, maybe it is. But you don’t get to decide when-- or if-- I leave. That’s not how this is gonna work.”
Connor takes another step forward and Karina doesn’t move backwards, only looks behind her to the roof’s edge.
“Five minutes,” he says. “I’ll give you five minutes to decide.”
Karina unfolds her arms, her shoulder blades rotating outwards until it looks like she’s about to take flight. “No.”
Connor grabs her hand, a little rougher than he intends. “Come on.”
She pulls her hand away and snaps a fist into his stomach, quick as instinct. Connor doubles over and gasps.
Karina stands over him, her eyebrows lowered and creased together. When she speaks, it seems as if she’s barely breathing.
“Don’t you dare tell me what to do.” She stares at him, doesn’t break eye contact.
Connor straightens, with effort, and carefully steps away from the roof’s edge.
God, he shouldn’t have come here.
She’s still looking at him.
“I ruined it, didn’t I,” he mutters and looks away. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
She takes a deep breath and lowers her tense shoulders. Her voice is a little hoarse. “Yeah, I think maybe you should leave.”
He ducks his head. “Okay.” Then turns and heads back towards the door.
When he looks back, Karina’s looking away from him, past the roof’s edge and towards the river in the distance.