[i]He seemed so shocked when he realized who it was that killed him. [i]"A kid?" As far as last words go, he hadn't chosen very well. But that was what the soldier chose to go with when he caught me lurking around the perimeter. [i]He hadn't expected to die, not even up to the final moment when I sunk my knife into his throat and slashed, severing his vocal cords to keep him from making any noise and alerting the rest of the base. The blood seeping into his windpipe did the rest of the work for me. He still seemed to not entirely believe what he was seeing when he lied down on the ground, looking at me with the horror-struck eyes of one forced to realize their own mortality. [i]As far as deaths went, it was relatively quiet and peaceful. No needless thrashing around. He closed his eyes and went on his way, just as I went on mine. [i]"Is it done?" The radio on my belt chirps [i]"Clear." I respond, "You may approach." [i]I make certain to drag the soldier's body out of the open and into the nearest dark corner I can find, abundant in the moonless and rainy night we had been blessed with. Afterwards, I just waited until the others approached the opening in the defenses that I had created. [i]A small team. Five, including myself. Not sure why they decided this was enough to handle the job given to us, but I had long ago stopped asking such questions. Our superiors did with us as they would. As far as they had deigned to tell me, we were just one of several groups, striking bases all across the eastern coast, but beyond that they didn't feel the need to enlighten me, and I didn't ask. The gun wasn't expected to care why it specifically had been chosen to fire at the target, it just did. [i]"How'd it go, Cockroach?" The designated team leader addressed me with the nickname I'd been saddled with by my 'colleagues.' Closest thing I really had to a name. [i]"He died." [i]"Good enough for me. Let's form up, we're on a tight schedule." [i]The heavy raindrops and occasional strikes of thunder mask the sound of our approach as we make our way through the opening I created in the complex's security. As the newest member of the Western Cell, I was logically the most expendable, so it was agreed that I would go first. The Western Cell operated differently than I was used to in Africa and the Middle East, with more focus on espionage and subtlety than the guerrilla warfare I had become accustomed to. For the first few months I hadn't seen any kind of fighting, instead kept under lock and key. I was the outsider after all, and a dangerous one with a high capacity for violence, it would make sense that they would want the attack dog kept in the kennel. It was almost a relief when they finally assigned me a target and a team. Would have preferred a target less populated than a military base, but I've worked under worse circumstances. [i]By the time we ran into any other trouble, we were already inside and out of the heavy downpour. I wasn't used to working with a team, most of the ops given to me were solo and borderline suicidal, so I wasn't sure what to expect from the others. While I had some internal gripes about their form in terms of firearms and combat, they seemed to at least grasp the fundamentals of stealth so I didn't have to worry about someone slipping when we came inside. While everyone was still entering, I had taken a moment to survey the surroundings, as was my responsibility as the pointman of the team. [i]We were in the clear, aside from two individuals in the adjacent room who I wouldn't have called soldiers due to the lack of armor and equipment, but who also wouldn't be on the base if they weren't military in some nature. With the benefit of hindsight, I would probably think they were engineers, given the location in which we found them. [i]When I told the team leader about the couple in the adjacent room, he gave a simple order to 'take care of it' while he and the others went to work setting up the package. [i]I didn't like the place we were in, though I understood why they had chosen it. For an explosive, it was the perfect place to do as much damage as possible in a single blast, thanks to its location at the foundation of the main building, and pipes to carry the flames to other parts of the complex. Still, the location only allowed one entrance and little cover, making us completely open to an ambush. But it wasn't my place to voice such opinions. [i]I was just the gun after all. [i]And I had been pointed at someone. There really weren't any choices involved in the situation. *page_break Next [i]"Hey, can one of you help me with this?" [i]It was a simple question, the kind that nobody would ever really doubt. I called it out as I was standing with my back pressed against the outer edge of the doorway with a knife in my hand, still bloodied from the last sentry. Without any real questions being asked, I heard a single pair of footsteps coming my way. [i]"What's wrong-" [i]The second I heard his footsteps approach the door, I swung my arm out. He was too tall for me to strike at his throat, so I had instead aimed for his heart. I only had half a second before he fell over and his partner would realize what had happened, so I moved quickly, retrieving my knife and throwing it at the other one immediately after he had come into view. That was the first time I got a good look at the people I had been assigned to kill. He hadn't been armed, nor did he appear military in any fashion other than the U.S. Military shield sewn into the heart of his plain shirt. [i]I hadn't been expecting much when I had thrown the knife. A distraction for a second, maybe two if I were lucky. But I guess my instincts were fine tuned that day, or perhaps I was simply luckier than I thought I was, because the knife managed to embed itself right into his chest. Nowhere vital, nobody was that lucky, but more than I had been expecting. He shouted, of course, but we were at basement level. Nobody around except for his friend bleeding in the doorway. While he wasted his breath screaming and falling to his knees, I lept forward, jumping and using the entirety of my weight to tackle him back-first into the ground, and using the force of gravity to push my thumbs into his eye sockets. [i]Blinding an opponent was an easy way to half their effectiveness. Between that and the knife in his chest, there was no resistance when I retrieved my weapon and finished him off. [i]When I returned, blood stained on my sleeve from where I wiped off my knife to clean it, the team leader only looked at me with a questioning expression, his eyes asking me 'well?' [i]"They died." [i]"I heard. They told me you were brutal, Cockroach, but damn. Where'd they teach you to kill so well?" [i]"Training." I wasn't sure how else to respond. Complex questions like that one tended to be hard for me to get my head around. I was much better at simple instructions. Kill this, defend that, shoot in the other direction. Simple. All the espionage and sneaky tricks that the Western Cell dealt with was above my purpose. My commanding officer told me that my only purpose there was to kill who they told me to, so I preferred to keep my train of thought focused on that. [i]"We're almost done here. Just hold on a second...what the hell?" Something had gone wrong, "What's wrong with those components? That doesn't look like any gunpowder I've ever seen." [i]"Did we get the right box?" One of the others said. [i]"This was the only one...there..." Some form of realization seemed to dawn on him, "We've been had! Scramble!" [i]People began running for the entrance, but before I could follow them smoke began to fill the room. Teargas, or at least that's what it felt like. After I lost my vision, I began to hear gunfire and hit the ground. I could barely feel anything at all, aside from the itchiness of my skin and the inability to stop coughing as the gas made its way through my lungs. Couldn't feel anything, that is, until the cold steel of handcuffs were locked onto my wrists. [i]"Get up!" *page_break [i]"Get up!" "Get up." It's the first thing I hear when I open my eyes. I take a moment to examine my surroundings and remember where I am. A bed. A comfortable bed with plaid patterns and a tan bedsheet. After a moment of introspection, I remember where I am. My home. My ordinary home, with my ordinary guardian, standing in the doorway. "It's time to get ready." He says with the unreadable face of neutrality that he always retains, constantly. I get up without a word, already dressed. A habit that I kept from the old way of living, always ready to move at a moment's notice with my gear packed right next to whatever lump of dirt I'd decided to sleep on. "What do you have packed?" "Essentials." "Let me see," at his command, I place my bag at the foot of my bed for him to inspect. He sighs almost immediately after opening it, and hands it back to me, "You won't be needing any of that. Where's the school supplies I gave you?" "There was no room." "There will be when you put all this back in your closet. Hurry up now." He went back to his position by the door, watching me as I unpacked my equipment and put it away. He doesn't say anything else until he sees me retrieve my pocket knife from under my pillow, "No knife. No weapons of any kind." My confusion must have shown on my face. "It's not anything you did, this time," he reassures me, "That's just not something you can take to a regular school." I see. I'm going to an ordinary school now. I suppose going without a weapon will be one of the things I'll just have to get used to if I want to blend in. *fake_choice #Have to do what I have to do. No point complaining. *set reflex -1 #I hate being so vulnerable. And I hate the one forcing me to do it. *set hatedan +1 I do as he says and place the knife back safely under my pillow. After that I go back to the job of packing for school just as instructed. After all, it's not like I could argue with my legal guardian. I'm frankly lucky that he lets me keep a knife at all. Most CIA agents wouldn't be so accommodating to ex-terrorists. Even at my age. I shouldn't even be in the States anymore. If the mission that my previous employers sent me on had been a success, I'd be on a boat back home to do the next suicide mission. I had grown quite adept at those. It was my current guardian that caught us. They'd known from the beginning we were going to attack that base, and exactly where we would hit it, too. The commanding officers of the Western Cell had acted so clever, but in the end they were always a few steps behind. Led us straight into a trap. From my understanding, a trap planned and set by the man standing in the room with me. He put the dots together, found out exactly how to catch us, and executed it perfectly. Nobody on our team suspected a thing until the tear gas was being thrown. Then, to further my surprise, he didn't have me thrown into a black box to never be heard from again like I had been expecting. Instead spending 8 months with me in a suburban house, teaching me the fundamentals of living in America. *fake_choice #Teaching me to be a normal American teenage girl *set gender "Female" *set female true *set he "she" *set him "her" *set his "her" *set boy "girl" *set mr "Miss" *set man "lady" *set daniel_name "Daniel Decker" #Teaching me to be a normal American teenage boy *set gender "Male" *set male true *set he "he" *set him "him" *set his "his" *set boy "boy" *set mr "Mr." *set man "man" *set jessy_stewart 40 *set junior_beach 20 *set daniel_name "Daniel Decker" I learned the fundamentals of basic arithmatic, how to read and speak English beyond the basics, and how not to behave in a supermarket. Needless to say there was some adjustment pains. But I'm a quick learner. Especially if I don't have a choice. *choice #It doesn't change that he's the one who caught me *set daniel_warden true *set hatedan +2 Even if my life is better for it, I can't help but take it personally that after all my training, and everything I endured to get that training, this guy was almost single-handedly responsible for my failure. For the most part, I've put up with having a warden and he's put up with my undisguised contempt for him, presumably because he feels sorry for me or something. "Come on, we don't have all day," he said casually, not having the energy to be actually annoyed without his morning coffee. "Maybe you should have woken me up earlier in that case," I snark back but nonetheless pick up the pace in packing my bag. I believe the books said teenagers were typically snarkers. *page_break Next *goto 1-1opening-4 #Nevertheless, I can't help but be wary around a fed *set daniel_warden true *set hatedan +1 Maybe it's the conditioning, the fact that so many have shot at me, or the fact that I've killed so many. Either way, I've never been able to get over my guardian being one of the "enemy," even though it's been months since I've ever considered the CIA an enemy. The subconscious is funny that way. "Running out of time," he said neutrally, casually tapping his watch to emphasize the point. "Yeah sure," I mumble back as I continue packing the bag he gave me while keeping an eye on him out of the corner of my eye. I can't see any potential weapons near his hands but I know he keeps a gun in the left pocket in his suit and find myself flinching every time he suddenly moves his hands. Old habits are hard to break. *page_break Next *goto 1-1opening-4 #I don't really think one way or the other about him *set daniel_guardian true It's hard to care much about anything, much less someone who seems to have taken an active effort to not become close to me in any way. Living together for almost half a year now hasn't changed our relationship as much as you'd think it would. For the most part I only ever talk to him when I have to. "Running out of time," he said neutrally, casually tapping his watch to emphasize the point. "Uh huh," I grunt noncommittally and keep packing my bag at the same lazy pace as before. Does it really matter if I'm a little late? It's not like before where failure would mean death or worse. In this case the worst consequence I can think of is getting a mean look from teachers who aren't authorized to do anything to me. *page_break Next *goto 1-1opening-4 #I'm thankful for what he's done for me, but I wouldn't say we're close *set daniel_guardian true *set frienddan +2 I try not to be ungrateful, but I've never really been able to think of him as anything more than my legal guardian. Sometimes it seems better that way since he's as reluctant to get close to me as I am to him. I try not to be a problem and he's helped me get adjusted to this new life. I guess that's all either of us really need from each other. "It's almost time to go," he reminded me softly but retaining the face of neutrality I've gotten accustomed to. "Okay," I respond simply, hurrying my effort to pack my supplies into the bag my guardian supplied. I've come to trust that if he wants something done it's for a good reason. *set combat -1 *page_break Next *goto 1-1opening-4 #It's just one more thing I have to be grateful for *set daniel_father true *set daddan +2 I mean if he hadn't been so good at his job I would be on a ship back home, going through the motions of that poor excuse for a life, and if he hadn't cared I would probably be rotting in Guantanamo Bay, which while not as bad since it would at least involve less suicide missions, is still a fate I am glad to avoid. Since moving in I try to make it up to him whenever I can though he seems to be trying to keep a distance from me. I wonder if it's because of our relationship or if he's just naturally cautious about forming attachments. I can certainly relate with the later. "It's almost time to go," he reminded me softly but retaining the face of neutrality I've gotten accustomed to. "Yes sir," I respond immediately and hurry up the pace of preparing the bag he bought me so that I don't keep him waiting. It's a bit hard to move quickly while making sure not to hurt the bag. *set combat -1 *set firearms -1 *set humanity +1 *page_break Next *goto 1-1opening-4 *label 1-1opening-4 Eventually I have the bright green backpack stuffed with everything that my guardian said was appropriate for an American High School student to be carrying around. Some notebooks, extra notebooks, pencils, extra pencils, paper, extra paper, and a lunchbox full of the nutritious vitamins needed for a growing adolescent. "I'm ready," I say with a step toward the door, ready to see if the past eight months of training for social encounters and catching up on the basic knowledge a 9th grader was supposed to know have been worthwhile, before he stops me with a firm hand on my shoulder. "Hold on. The ankle bracelet," he says while gesturing to the chair. I sigh but do as he commands and wait while he rolls up my pant leg to inspect the cuff around my ankle. A device meant to track my every movement, implanted by the CIA as a contingency in case I decided to "wander off." The precaution is needless, but even I can understand why they wouldn't want to take any chances. *if (hatedan >0) As part of keeping me under lock down, it's my warden's job to inspect my ankle bracelet every morning to make sure it is still functioning normally. "If I was going to try anything don't you think I'd have done it by now?" *if (hatedan =0) and (daddan =0) It's my guardian's job to make sure that the bracelet hasn't been tampered with. The most obvious reason being me trying to escape but also in case it starts to degrade or somehow gets hit with something strong enough to break through government issued hardware - like maybe a train. "I'd hoped we were past this by now." *if daddan =1 My guardian's bosses have him check the bracelet every morning to make sure nothing has gone wrong with it, though I've done everything I can to make it clear to him that I have no intention of giving him any trouble. "You know I'd never run away." "It's just protocol," he says while looking the ankle bracelet over, checking for any signs of tampering or natural decay and finally making sure that the bracelet is transmitting correctly. The cuff can be a bit annoying at times, especially since it never comes off but... *fake_choice #I couldn't get it off if I tried. And I have *set bored +1 #It's just a part of my life now. No point complaining #It's a small price to pay for a new life *set reflex -1 It wasn't coming off anyway. At least not anytime soon. "Everything seems fine here," he said, keeping his eyes firmly placed on the brace and finishing his examination quickly. Never a long process, it didn't seem hard to check. *if (female =true) Though he made me stop wearing skirts after the first time. It was a rather annoying discussion. I'd taken a liking to skirts. They were nonrestrictive and let me move freely, especially in comparison to what I was told ordinary adolescent girls wore. Not to mention how much easier it was to conceal my weapons. In the end I gave in when he said I could wear boy's pants which were much more flexible and even had more pockets. Less comfortable, but perhaps even more utilitarian. "Alright, let's head out," he said, leading me out the door into the suburban neighborhood that the CIA had been housing us for the past eight months. The picture of an ordinary American home for an ordinary American ${boy} and her ordinary American father. We walked across the ordinary lawn to my guardian's ordinary car, and stopped just before we got in. "Here, before I forget," he pulled a small mobile phone out of his suit pocket and handed it to me, "In case we need to get in touch. Don't lose it." It was about as alien to me as everything else I'd come across in my short time here but by now I was used to dealing with strange objects. I recognized the symbol usually associated with "on" and pressed it, watching the little box hum to life. From there I found a list of contacts with only one name: Daniel Decker. *if hatedan >0 My warden. *if (hatedan =0) and (daddan =0) My guardian *if daddan =1 My father. *page_break Fall *goto_scene 1-2school-1 "Alright, let's head out," he said, leading me out the door into the suburban neighborhood that the CIA had been housing us for the past eight months. The picture of an ordinary American home for an ordinary American ${boy} and his ordinary American father. We walked across the ordinary lawn to my guardian's ordinary car, and stopped just before we got in. "Here, before I forget," he pulled a small mobile phone out of his suit pocket and handed it to me, "In case we need to get in touch. Don't lose it." It was about as alien to me as everything else I'd come across in my short time here but by now I was used to dealing with strange objects. I recognized the symbol usually associated with "on" and pressed it, watching the little box hum to life. From there I found a list of contacts with only one name: Daniel Decker. *if hatedan >0 My warden. *if (hatedan =0) and (daddan =0) My guardian *if daddan =1 My father. *page_break Fall *goto_scene 1-2school-1