One

Special Agent-in-Charge Kim Jisoo heaves a sigh, placing a slim folder with documents on the edge of her boss's mahogany desk.

“She's not going to like it. In fact, I can already tell you she won't agree to this.”

Kim Haesol, the Deputy Director of the South Korean National Intelligence Agency, pushes his dark-rimmed specs up the bridge of his nose and stares at the squalling clouds behind the window in a pondering pause. Following his line of vision, Jisoo scowls.

Zero chances of rain my , she thinks.

“I assume she doesn't have much choice, does she?”

Jisoo's eyes veer to her boss.

The man smirks, palms forming a steeple as he leans comfortably in his leather armchair. Despite his unthreatening, lanky posture, there's that unmistakable aura of superiority and confidence embedded into his every gesture and word. It irritates the hell out of Jisoo, and she won't count how many times she has dreamed of strangling the man with his tie.

“I suppose not,” she says, smile nothing but cordial as she reaches for the folder.

She already knows she has lost.

Kim Jennie is about to find out.

* * *

Jisoo enters a crowded pub and takes out the soggy folder with documents from under her drenched hoodie. She stares at it wryly, making a mental note to never trust the weather forecasts.

Hopefully, Jennie won't be too upset. Jisoo knows the agent likes her files neat, and dry, for that matter. On a second thought, though, she probably won't give a damn about the state of the files once she reads their content. And she may as well burn them.

Mumbling excuses, Jisoo makes her way through the intoxicated throng of baseball supporters. A pair of white earphones blocks out the curses thrown her way, although no sound streams through them. She wears them out of habit, often forgetting she even has them on.

Once she finds herself at the bar, she easily spots her target. Beside the counter, a few meters away from her, sits Kim Jennie - their Agency's best special agent and her subordinate, but for the most part, her best friend since college.

Walking her way, Jisoo tries to asses just how drunk the woman already is. It's not like she blames her. She knows exactly what date they have today. The entire Agency knows, she supposes. Still, she hopes Jennie isn't wasted, not yet at least.

“Hey,” she speaks up and takes out her earphones, sliding onto a stool next to Jennie.

The agent lifts her gaze from the empty glass and stares at Jisoo. Her eyes shiny under the dim lights but as resolute as ever, telling Jisoo she's sober enough to talk to.

“I'm really sorry to bother you at this hour... and day,” Jisoo begins, wincing at how awkward she sounds, not like a friend, but like the Agent-in-Charge she shouldn't be after work.

“What happened?” Jennie's voice comes out detached and scratchy.

Jisoo guesses bourbon is to blame. She knows the woman hates it, but on this day, it holds a special meaning. Her suspicions are confirmed when Jennie hails the bartender, and the man arrives with a bottle of said liquor.

Jennie offers some to Jisoo, but she declines politely.

“We've received an intel from the Thailand's Intelligence Bureau regarding your current case.” Jisoo tries to slide the folder to Jennie, but it just lands on the counter with a wet flop. “, sorry.” She picks it up and places it beside the agent's glass.

Jennie glances at it, showing no real interest.

“Haesol wants to talk about it first thing tomorrow morning.”

The agent gives a curt nod. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Are you sure you don't want anything to drink?”

Jisoo cracks a smile, shaking her head. “Someone has to your drunk back to your flat.”

“Fair point.” Jennie breathes a chuckle and pours herself another glass.

Observing her friend as she slowly drowns her sorrow and pain in alcohol, Jisoo wonders whether she should tell her at what price the intel came.

She still cannot believe the irony of the situation. Since exactly two years ago, Kim Jennie has decided to never again work with another agent, and from what Jisoo gathers, she has no intention of changing that fact.

Various agents were proposed as her infield partners, but Jennie refused them all, under the threat of quitting the job if she were assigned to anyone. So far, the higher-ups turned a blind eye to this display of blatant insubordination, since Jennie's results were highly satisfying, and allowed her to be the only solo agent in the Agency.

But that was until her slip-up in Sicily, which took place almost three weeks ago. It was a miracle she escaped that mafia ambush with just a bullet graze to her shoulder as the only memento. After her return, the higher-ups agreed the whole fiasco could have been prevented if she had a back-up in a form of another agent.

Jisoo knows they are already searching for potential candidates, again.

Turns out, however, their Thai colleagues had unawarely anticipated them. They've agreed to share the intel, provided that one of their agents would work on the case together with Jennie, and Jennie only. An unprecedented request, or should she say demand, for a collaboration between two foreign intelligence agencies.

Nevertheless, seeing how Jennie's case was stuck in a moot point for weeks, partially a consequence of the Sicily scuffle, the higher-ups didn't think twice and accepted the terms. Of course, without contacting Jennie beforehand. They preferred to send Jisoo as the carrier of the bad news and let her take the brute force of Jennie's wrath.

Glancing at her friend, Jisoo draws in a shaky breath. The agent is clearly reaching her drinking limit. Jisoo can tell by the way her eyelids droop, palms tremble and lips mumble a strained 'ing Budapest'. With a sigh, she takes the folder, deciding that today is not the day. The news will have to wait until morning.

“Come on, let's get you home.”

Jennie doesn't protest when Jisoo drapes her arm over her shoulder and leads her to the exit.

* * *

It's eleventh of June, and just like the year before, Jennie wakes up with dry and head throbbing to the rhythm of some heavy metal song. A painful reminder of why she never liked to drink bourbon; it gives her the nastiest hangovers.

But even the splitting headache and a queasy stomach don't stop her from running to the Agency's Headquarters, two streets away from her flat, once Jisoo informs her that the higher-ups has basically sold her to an agent from Bangkok in an exchange for some supposed intel.

The news sends a ripple of heated fury through Jennie, and the next thing she knows is that she tries to call an elevator by smashing its button repeatedly.

“Jen, for god's sake, can you just calm down for a damn second?” Jisoo appears next to her, breathing in gasps as she leans against the elevator's door.

Working beside a desk has robbed the Agent-in-Charge of all the stamina she used to posses as a rookie, and to be honest, Jennie is somewhat impressed that she has manged to catch up with her.

“Don't talk to me you traitor.” Jennie jabs her shoulder with her forefinger and gives up on the elevator, opting to take the stairs.

Taking two steps at a time, she reaches the fourth floor in a couple of seconds. Jisoo is already waiting for her; the elevator's door closing behind her with a jingle.

“Stop being so ing stubborn and let me explain,” the Agent-in-Charge tries again, but Jennie breezes past her, swipes her card through the door's scanner and enters the office.

Most of the agents duck in their cubicles when they see her barge in. The rookies stepping aside in trepidation as she nearly bulldozes them in a narrow corridor. And Jisoo must have given up on her because she can no longer hear her frantic footsteps echoing behind her back.

“Agent Kim!”

Jennie winces at the familiar husky voice of Haesol's secretary, but at the same time, she knows their confrontation was inevitable and even secretly hoped for it. Donning her trademark pink blazer, Hwang Tiffany approaches Jennie from the opposite end of the corridor. Her high-heels clacking against the tiled floor in a sinister staccato.

“How many times I have to tell you--” the woman begins her lecture on the dangers of running in narrow corridors, but it dies on her lips once Jennie grabs her by the shoulders and spins her around, before continuing her run, unperturbed.

Finally, she reaches the doors of Haesol's office, which happen to be the only ones her card cannot access. However, Tiffany's can, and the secretary, being a woman of habit, always keeps it in the right pocket of her blazer.

Jennie swipes the filched card through the scanner and barges inside. In just a few quick strides, she approaches the man, who sits idly beside his desk reading a newspaper, and slams her palms against the mahogany piece of furniture.

“What the are you playing at Haesol?”

The man lowers his newspaper and looks at her as if he just became aware of her presence.

“Ah, Jennie.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I'm sorry, I didn't expect you this early in the morning today,” he says, and his nonchalance only further fuels Jennie's rage.

“An agent from Bangkok? Are you ing serious? Haven't I told you already that I work alone?”

“Plenty of times.” Haesol smiles and neatly folds his newspaper before putting it away. “I'm afraid, however, that the circumstances has changed. Significantly, if I may add. The Thailand side haven't left us with much choice. They've asked for you, specifically.”

Jennie feels explosions going off under her skull. She squeezes the bridge of her nose, drawing in a sharp breath .

“Who? And why?” she questions through clenched jaw.

“That would be me.”

An unfamiliar voice chimes in from behind Jennie in clear English.

Senses on high alert, Jennie swivels around and palms at her belt, only to find out that in her haste to get here, she has forgotten to take her gun.

However, the tall blonde, who causally leans against the steel door sporting a white t-shirt and a leather jacket similar to that of Jennie's, doesn't seem to have hostile intentions. Her round face looking almost childish if not for the sly smirk that curls the edges of her plump lips.

Jennie frowns, blindsided. She's certain the woman wasn't in the room when she entered.

“How the did you--?”

“Oh, I've simply followed you,” the woman anticipates Jennie's question as she rebounds from the door and walks towards her.

“Saw you flying in blind rage through the corridor and thought it must be the infamous Kim Jennie. Your supervisors had warned me you wouldn't be thrilled at my offer,” she says, stopping a mere step away from Jennie.

But her long-winded babble provides no substantial information, hence Jennie's incredulous and pissed off reply in the form of:

“Who the are you?”

“Agent Lalisa Manoban, or just Lisa, for short.”

Jennie squints, ignoring the extended in greeting palm.

For some reason, the woman's smile widens impossibly, and she retreats her hand.

“As for the reason why I asked for you, it should be obvious enough. You're the best agent your office has to offer.”

Jennie scoffs at the blatant flattery. Squaring her shoulders (it's infuriating how the woman is taller than her), she steps closer and says right into the other agent's face, “. You.”

The blonde arches a curious brow, otherwise unruffled. Her gaze sweeping over Jennie's body, stopping for a second longer than necessary once it reaches the agent's lips.

Jennie frowns, resists the sudden urge to swallow, and backs away.

“I'm not working with you,” she says after finding her voice. “You can shove your intel up your skinny . Whatever it is, I'll figure it out on my own. We don't need foreign agents sniffing around our offices.”

With that she steps past the blonde and heads for the door.

“What about Budapest, agent Kim?”

The sudden question roots Jennie in place. Her eyes widen and heart starts beating to the familiar, anxious rhythm dictated by the images of explosions that resurface from the dark recess of her mind.

“What do you know about Budapest?” she mutters, hands clenching at her sides.

“We've found out who stood behind the attack. Turns out, your current case is somewhat connected to it.”

Jennie closes her eyes, swallowing the tightness in . A whirlwind of emotions shakes her entire being - anger, regret and sorrow - all gnaw at her soul, tearing apart her sanity. There's gunpowder in the air and copper on her lips.

“The files you've sent me didn't mention anything about Budapest,” she struggles to keep her voice leveled.

The blonde snorts a chuckle.

“An agent should always have a few aces up their sleeve, don't you agree, agent Kim?”

A bitter taste of defeat spreads across Jennie's palate when she realizes she has been played by the Thai agent. She grounds her teeth, gives no reply and leaves the office.

As much as she hates to admit, Haesol was right. The circumstances has changed. Significantly.

* * *

Lisa stares at Jennie's retreating figure, tilts her head to the sway of her leather-clad hips and grins.

This should be interesting.

“My deepest apologizes, agent Manoban,” Haesol declares behind her in an awfully pretentious voice. “Agent Kim can be at times quite... turbulent, I would say.”

Lisa waves her hand dismissively.

“That's fine by me,” she says then glances over her shoulder. “I'm always up for a challenge.”

TBC

A/N: So here's the brief introductory chapter.The next one will be much longer, I promise. Please let me know in the comment section what you think about it! Thank you for all the subs and comments. I'm honestly surprised by the amount of support this story has already gotten. You guys are seriously amazing TT Also, you can follow me on twitter if you want to be updated about the progress of my stories and Jenlisa relationship, here's the link ;)