#isb agent! reader

A sliver of sunlight passed through the velvet drapes of the stained glass window in the foyer, painting the marble floor with vivid hues. A warm and familiar hand wrapped itself around your shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. The affectionate woman beckoned you to regard the mirror parallel to a young girl. She had the softest and finest of fabrics hugging her tiny form, tailored to fit her like a satin glove. It was practically glowing, parading its gorgeous pink and purple hues to anyone willing to glimpse at it. The detailed fabric showed its status through the neat embroidery; clearly having been handcrafted by a master, each stitch and each gem perfectly complementing the other. The little girl smiled brightly with all of her teeth, some gone and some still there. The poised woman next to her told her she was beautiful. Stunning like a zeilla flower in full bloom.

That was one of your fondest memories of your mother. One of the only ones remaining. Your memories of her were disappearing. They had been for a while. You no longer remembered her voice. Her eyes. The warmth of her suffocating hugs. Nothing but fragments remained of faded memories you had slowly and unwittingly let go of. You wished she had stayed: wished you had the chance to ask meaningful questions your childish mind couldn’t. But, alas she didn’t. You only ever got to know your mother, never the person behind the title. Her hopes, dreams, and ideals – her identity – all followed her to the grave. When the bickering with your father overwhelmed you, hopes to return to simpler times always emerged. Times where you, your mother, and your father enjoyed sitting together in peace. Your father would sip on his kaf while reading a novel on his datapad, nodding off after a while. Your mother would sit on the couch while you sat on the mat in front of her. She would braid your hair for hours, creating intricate designs before rebraiding your hair over and over again until you fell asleep. She used to say that the end of something only meant the beginning of something else. A sort narrative paradox plaguing all phases of life.

Your home on Coruscant nearly touched the skies above, swallowed by sunlight, yet without your mothers warmth it grew cold and empty. When your father lost your mother nothing could soothe the pain. To deal with the loss he drowned himself in his work while you buried yourself in your studies. She always did claim your likeness to your father was astounding. Even when the Empire took over he kept his position as head analyst of interplanetary commerce, more often than not going off-planet to attend various meetings. Travel wasn’t necessary, but being away from the house meant less reminders of times past. Less suffering. Even at the quiet behest in his daughter’s eyes, he would not stay. Independence became your only chance at survival, a desperate escape from the clawing loneliness in your heart. You thought it gave you strength, but the detachment was isolating your soul.

The academy you attended specialized in the gathering of intelligence, preparing young aristocratic minds for their future careers at the ISB. Supervisors would occasionally come visit, often to speak at assemblies or to recruit talented seniors. Project Luaad allowed younger students to apply as a mentee. An ISB supervisor would pick a promising student to mentor and said juvenile would shadow their mentor on assignments. It was a project that promised future ISB supervisors of quality, cutting down on the number of inexperienced applicants while allowing the creation of well prepared agents with years of experience despite their young age. You had applied for the mentorship the year you turned fourteen to escape from the paralyzing silence plaguing your home, and by the time you turned fifteen you were chosen by ISB supervisor Ruma Kimiin; a human with deep-set eyes and a mean tilt to her eyebrows. Her age deepened the lines in her face and established her experience. She saw your potential. She saw how your pretty face, quick wit, and unyielding loyalty could be an important asset to the Empire. 

You were being moved to a dormitory on Nova Garron, a crystal-riddled asteroid, within the week. You went back to gather your belongings, hovercrates filling up quickly. You stood solemnly by the exit, admiring the stained glass window one last time. The penthouse was eerily quiet, however anything but peaceful. You were at war with yourself. You were going to leave behind the last reminder of your mother without informing your father. What a filial daughter you were. You looked around the house for anything to bring with you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way from the foyer to your fathers bedroom. Entering it, you saw nothing but a bed and a wardrobe. His absence was prevalent and showed in the minimal use of his room. You searched his wardrobe for anything belonging to your late mother. The guilt of searching through your fathers belongings faded quickly when you spotted a necklace made of chromium, and hanging on the chain was a clear gemstone depicting a Nabooan bird. You held the necklace and put it around your neck after observing it for a while longer, exiting the room and heading to the front door. Seeing as you had nothing keeping you at home anymore, everything material securely packed away in your hovercrates, you left the beautiful but desolate house with little to no reluctance. Your inner turmoil eased as the door slid shut, separating you from your old life. This marked the end of your loneliness. A new beginning. Right?

Supervisor Kimiin made sure you were ready before allowing you to accompany her on assignments. You were taught proper imperial protocol, how to spread malicious malware, and to detect sicknesses within the system. To protect the Empire from viruses, eliminating them before they could infect their host. Your first year under her tutelage was grueling. You were forced to prove your worth at every turn, answering her spontaneous questions flawlessly before she could even consider moving to the next chapter. If you made a mistake she would make you stay awake all night long, then evaluate your delirious state in the morning. Her reasoning was that if you were unaware of the answer, regardless of cognitive state, you didn’t truly know it. She would throw moral quandaries at you in the middle of the night, rousing you from your sleeping state, and expect a response befitting of a loyal supervisor. You grew increasingly articulate over the months in accordance with imperial standards. Your mentor duly noted your achievements and grew less draconian, growing into her role as a mentor and leaning away from her tyrannical methods. You were taught everything regarding hacking and information technology the year you turned sixteen, gunmanship and piloting at seventeen, then given the official title of junior supervisor the year you turned eighteen. You were provided with a standard issue white uniform with one bright blue brick attached to the front, displaying your limited authority. You were almost jealous of Madam Kimiin’s four blue bricks, but knowing your exceptional competence you expected to reach that amount within five years. 

Your first ever assignment was on a planet in the Outer Rim called Rodia. There had been rumours of radical ideas spreading within the domed capital city of Iskaayuma. You and Kimiin arrived on Rodia a few cycles after being assigned. After stepping out of your starfighter, a Rogue Shadow model, you were punched with the most pungent smell you had ever encountered. You slapped your hands over your lower face and turned swiftly to face your mentor, who stood there seemingly unphased, with an alarmed expression. 

“Will you continue to maintain this effort?” She asked, scrutinizing your childishness.

“..No, Madam." You lowered your arms and felt shame slightly burn the back of your neck.

She held back a smile and gestured to you to follow her with her hand. As you made your way through the hangar you almost grew used to the unpleasant smell. You glanced up towards the dome encapsulating the entire city. It was quite an impressive feat for a planet so backwatered, the Empire’s grace certainly must have had something to do with it. There should be commemorative statues of the Empire all throughout this city, but you were willing to bet that  ungratefulness comes hand-in-hand with the impertinents of this boorish planet. The mission continued for weeks, both you and your mentor scouting and compiling information and evidence of moderate value. The deadline was drawing nearer cycle by cycle, yet you had not produced any condemning evidence of a rebellion. Now was time for drastic measures. 

You managed to infiltrate the rebel forces on Rodia by tapping into hundreds of frequencies and following up on all the suspicious ones, which were the majority of them. It took you three sleepless nights to finally discover their hideout, and despite your crippling exhaustion your mentor still urged you to go. Hidden within an office space, you found blueprints and notes written in a hurry pertaining to planned attacks on the imperial troopers stationed within the city.

A rustling noise drew your attention while you were skimming through the synth-papers. The door leading into the office was askew, and the draft was disturbing the synth-papers. You had clearly remembered closing the door. Someone must have seen you. Shoving whatever incriminating evidence in your satchel, you sprinted out of the rebel hideout. Moments after you exited the building, blasters were aimed and fired at you. You let an undignified panicked yelp slip out in your sleep-deprived state, deciding to sprint into an alleyway in a move of desperation. Chased by an unruly mob of savage insurgents, you had sorely disappointed your mentor. 

“There goes all confidentiality. Wrecked by a moron..” You remember supervisor Kimiin grumbling under her breath during the flight back home while you were patching yourself up.