Spies Like Us
Waking up at 6 A.M. with anxiety wasn't a great way to start the week.
Black Spy felt troubled, he had a strange feeling he never experienced. Was it the flu? Stomachache? Perhaps he left the water on in his apartment overnight?
He tries to fall back asleep but it couldn't happen. He shook the fog out of his brain and dragged out of bed.
Black checked his one-bedroom apartment for daily inspection. Any bombs or wires on the redwood floor? Nope. Duct tape on the faucets? Nothing. Grenades in the fridge? Clear.
He never knew when or where a trap would show up. They could be anywhere.
His whole life, a feud with a mortal enemy has left his home a complete minefield. Usually it was every morning, but there was nothing in sight.
It's been going on for decades, and Black never wondered why or how they even started. But today, worry bubbled up inside him, getting worse by the minute. Something didn't feel right, like someone was watching him.
Again, he brushed the anxiety away and took a deep breath. Everything was fine.
"I need a shower," Black said after his inspection.
He walked over the redwood floor to his bathroom. He shed off his nightgown, and stepped into the shower. Hot water grazed on him like gentle butterfly kisses. Black smiled, and closed his eyes.
White Spy wasn't sure what to think. He was just standing outside of Black's 7th floor apartment, with a prepared trap in hand. On a normal day, he would just plant the trap, watch Black get defeated and leave. But today, he felt strange. Like, there was no purpose in setting pointless traps for one person just for the fun of it.
White felt empty inside.
He looked down at his trap he spent hundreds of dollars on, working on until 4 this morning...It would be a shame not to use it. After all, he always used his traps on him.
So why didn't he want to use it?
"So confused..." White muttered. "Just do it, come on,"
He slowly put the lock pick in the sliding glass door. He'd broke in millions of times, besides, Black was a late sleeper. The lock clicked, and White slowly slid the door open. Immediately, he knew something was wrong.
There was water running in the bathroom. Black was up early.
"Great," White muttered.
He slammed the door by accident.
Black was 10 minutes in his shower when he heard a door slam. He immediately knew it was his arch enemy sneaking in his house again. He turned the water off, wrapped in a towel and ran to the sliding glass door.
White was standing on his balcony, startled to see his polar opposite half naked. Black was startled, just to even see him in person. Neither of them said a word, they just stared at each other like looking in a mirror.
White reached for the door yanked it open and tackled Black on the ground.
Black's head hit the floor hard with a loud *thump.*
"Long time, no see, eh?" White said.
Black pushed his arch enemy to the side. "I suppose so, old timer,"
He reluctantly punched White in the stomach, and got to his feet. White fell backward and smiled. "When was the last time we had a full on fist fight?"
Black pinned him to the wall and slapped him in the face. "Not for a couple years. Now shut up and fight like a man," White slapped him back, hard as possible. "May the best man win,"
So they did.
It wasn't normal for them to have a legit fight, their feud usually included inventions and traps that would kill them. But for some reason, they couldn't die, and that's why they never stopped. Black started to smother White's face with a pillow like an older brother would do to a younger sibling. White always kept a small knife in his pocket, so he flipped over Black and shredded the pillow into feathers.
"Cool knife," Black said. "But not good enough,"
Black got up and ran to the kitchen.
"Where ya going?!" White chased after him. "Get back here!"
Black emerged with several smoke bombs. He lit off the bombs, making them both cough violently. White collapsed to the ground, and Black blindly pounced on his chest.
He was punched in the face several times, still coughing and hacking. All White could see was red and black.
Then he realized; Black was still wearing a towel. White wearily reached for his lower waist and pulled down.
"Stop!" Black screamed, then coughed again.
"Make me," White rasped.
The smoke cleared, and Black's towel was on the ground. Early sunrise filled the kitchen, especially on his now fully exposed body.
"I...can't do this...anymore..." White panted. "This...is...pointless..."
Black was still blushing. "What's pointless?"
He could've sworn White was almost crying. "We're...just like kids. Trying to...prove who's better. But nothing happens, it just keeps...going...on...and..."
He clutched his stomach, tears and blood rolling down his face. "I surrender,"
Black didn't know what to say. He left the kitchen to get dressed, leaving his enemy on the floor sobbing and bleeding. When he got to his bedroom, his chest was aching as he breathed heavily. Black had bruises all over his arms and legs, and a lump on the back of his pounding head. He wearily reached in his closet for boxer shorts and his best bathrobe.
It hurt to move his arms into the sleeves, but at least he wasn't naked. Black stopped by the bathroom to get some supplies.
After two minutes, he returned fully dressed with the first aid kit and a wet cloth. White looked up at him with pleading eyes. Black wiped off his face and put bandages on his bleeding, swollen arms without a word spoken.
"Why are you...Owch!" White exclaimed.
"Because you're hurt," Black interrupted. "Hold still,"
After White got bandaged up, he woozily sat up staring at his enemy right in the eyes.
"I'm sorry for everything," Black said.
"Me too," White whispered. "Can we start over?"
Black embraced White in a hug. Tears flooded both their eyes. Words weren't needed, just the sound of sniffs and heavy breathing. They let go of each other and smiled.
No one was defeated.
No one had won.
They had surrendered under knowing what they did was pointless.
"Next time, put some clothes on," White said.