“The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity” —- w.b. yeats
Personal Data: Agent 76
↳ Name: Emyr Harris
↳ D.O.B: February 12th, 1983
↳ Birthplace: Manchester, England
Background:
Before E.M.P.I.R.E, they were nothing. They were just another orphan, grasping futilely onto the vast and lonely world. They were unwanted, a burden to society, barely surviving day to day. It was E.M.P.I.R.E. who found them, clothed them, and gave them shelter—and it is E.M.P.I.R.E who they owe their life too.
Skill Set:
Stealth, Heist
Connections:
Agent 65: They view their fellow agent with great admiration. 65 makes completing tasks seem effortless and is an integral part to the agency. 76 aspires to be equally as deadly and equally as important as the other agent.
Agent 18: Unlike most other agents, 76 and 18 were not groomed for espionage. They had to survive on their own—until E.M.P.I.R.E saved them. For that reason alone, 76 isn’t sure how 18 can be so ungrateful—and for that reason alone, 76 despises them. However, they are both the most experienced in their field, which makes working together frequently a necessity.
Agent 22: When Calloway gave them an unofficial mission that of the utmost importance towards E.M.P.I.R.E’s future security, 76 accepted it with open palms. 22 is a potential liability, a threat, and 76 is there to contain it. If other agents found out, there would most likely be repercussions, but it won’t come to that with 76 on the job.
PORTRAYED BY ADRIEN BRODY
AGENT 76 IS CURRENTLY TAKEN
Psych Eval: Agents are being interviewed by E.M.P.I.R.E’s psychologist. This is a fairly new research Director Calloway is conducting within the agency. Responses will only be accessible by the psychologist, and are otherwise completely confidential.
Tell us a bit about your childhood. Where did you grow up? Did you have family? What you were doing before E.M.P.I.R.E. reached out to you?
Emyr leaned against the backrest of his chair, head tilted upward as his lips curving slowly into a smirk. “Family, huh…” The room went silent for a moment as his mind wandered back to his days at the foster homes, in the streets, at a random bakery in the middle of the night, trying to sneak out some leftover bread to keep his stomach warm. It’d been a while since he’d left the lowly lifestyle, but the question brought back an unpleasant sense of nostalgia. “If you count the nuns at the orphanage and those bullies I had to call brothers, then perhaps,” the brunette chuckled lightly, “But other than the man and the woman I’ve never met, who happened to mate and create me when the stars aligned, honestly…,” his tone was low and hanging at the end, as if he was reluctant to continue — when in reality, his mind was just stuck in a dark place all of a sudden that he couldn’t find his way back to his former idea.
“I’m sorry, where was I again? Oh right, what I did before E.M.P.I.R.E.,” smiling sheepishly after a moment of silence, Emyr scratched the nape of his neck and continued. “Well, back then, I was just another stray, disconnected from the society. I was just another thief, breaking into people’s houses for a few valuables to trade, so I could have a roof to sleep under,” his expression softened at his own explanation, although the constant gesturing of his hands may have helped conceal it. “And maybe a full-course dinner on the weekend, if I was lucky,” he quickly added, the glee in his laugh fully shielding the melancholy in his eyes.
You had the option to decline the agency; what made you say yes?
“They give me a purpose in life, simple,” he responded with a smile. “The food, the money, the living space… They’re all just the perks,” another crisp chuckle escaped his lips, “But surely I’d be damned if I said I don’t enjoy them.” This one was easy, Emyr had picked his answer for this question since day one. As someone who practically grew up in the agency, E.M.P.I.R.E. had always been more home to him than anywhere else fate had ever put him in. After all, where else would he have rather gone to? Sure, he had finished high school, thanks to the government — and in decent grades, no less. But with thievery being his only solid forte, Emyr had always known that academic records wouldn’t have got him far. So when the agency had offered to take him under their wing by the time he’d turned 23, the young orphan simply couldn’t have said no.
On a mission, what is your main concern?
Pressing his lips together, Emyr began tapping his forefingers against each other repeatedly as he frowned. He was being indecisive right now, for his priority during missions tend to vary, depending on the situations. He knew he was expected to deliver an immediate answer, however, seeing as all these years working with the agency should’ve given him a lot of insight on how he should carry out his duty.
“Well… I’d say getting things done and going home in one piece. Don’t we all want the same thing?” even the man himself was surprised by the lack of crack in his voice despite his doubtfulness. “Sticking to the rules, let’s not forget about that… And making sure everyone’s alive, if possible. But if not, well…,” shrugging casually, olive gaze averted as the agent inhaled heavily, “Sometimes sacrifices have to be made. It’s just how it is.”
Then again, when one agreed to become a mercenary, they should’ve known it wasn’t a world of rainbow unicorns they were signing up to — quite the contrary, it was a bloody minefield where anyone could get killed at any second. When it was time to engage in an assignment, Emyr never forgot to tell himself that it could as well be his very last day on earth. The mindset often got him scorned by his fellow agents, but truth is, it was also the key to his success: because he believed every mission would be his last one, Emyr always gave it everything he had to offer; and while not all of them went as planned, never once did he return empty-handed.
Obviously we can’t skirt around the topic of the bombing that killed Director Watson. Could you recount where you were at the time? Your thoughts on the whole event?
Emyr had seen this one coming. He was absolutely sure this would be asked at some point and yet, here he was, trembling in his seat, avoiding eye contact in fear of being looked down upon for the inescapable vulnerability.
“I failed him,” he muttered, almost whispered. “I was in town when it happened, on a mission.” It was hard enough, thinking about the incident; even harder when he had to come up with well-structured sentences to respond to the question. “Everyone kept me in the dark until I returned to the headquarter. They knew I would’ve abandoned my mission, so they waited.” He kept stopping between words, as if breathing alone at this point would require extra effort.
“Can we— can we move on to the next question, please?” he asked, eventually; fingertips rubbing the bridge of his nose softly, in hope to ease the impending headache. “I can get back to you in our next session, if you want… Just— Not now.” Thankfully, the psychologist went along; but of course, as a consequence, she couldn’t let his breakdown go undocumented. He could worry about it later, though, with his main concerns at the moment being pulling himself together and making it to the end of this draining interview.
And what about Director Calloway? How are you transitioning under her new leadership?
A long sigh of relief emitted from between his gritted teeth, Emyr was just glad to continue with a more casual topic. “She was brilliant as Director Watson’s right hand, so I have no reason to doubt that she’ll continue to be,” the light in his face had recovered as he replied with a hint of smile, “And just as long as she doesn’t make this mental assessment a monthly routine, I think I’ll be fine,” his signature laugh smoothly closed the conversation as the psychologist expressed her gratitude for his cooperation and left. Soon afterwards, he heard his signal and in a flash, the room was silent once again.
