Guys, Lies and Deadly Spies. (rewritten)

1-The Mission.

"Now take out your C.C book," Ms. Davids announced and the classroom groaned in disapproval. Every time our Accounts teacher mentioned that book the class knew it was time for an exercise that was sure to dissolve your brain.

"Blayze, would you please wake her up?" Ms. Davids asked me, referring to my classmate Chloe.

I nudged her and she groaned, thrusting her hand in her desk and ruffling for the book with her eyes still closed. When she finally found it, she opened a random page then knocked out again, head tucked beneath her arms to shield her eyes from the brightness.

"Turn to page eighty two," Ms. Davids ordered and as the flipping of books chorused through the classroom, she continued. "I want you to do the balance sheet, the journals and the ledger on your own this time. Keep in mind that this exercise is fifty percent of your term grade, so do your best not to mess it up."

There was a series of vigorous mumbling at the amount of work we'd just received, which stopped the second Mr. Walker opened the door. He was the schools most feared professor and the deputy headmaster, well known for his generous servings of detention and never-ending lectures. What many of the students didn't know was that he worked for the Agency. Even though he wasn't an actual spy, he'd been loyal to the organisation since before I was recruited and had maintained his position as one of the most trusted employers of all time.

"Blayze, Mr. Walker would like a word with you." I ignored the curious whispers as I made my way towards the front. "The rest of you get to work" Ms. Davids said dismissively.

Walker opened the door and led me out, maintaining his cold monotone face, which was made more intimidating by his square spectacles that hung at the bridge of his nose.

"B92," he greeted once were out of earshot from the classroom, taking took off the spectacles which he often complained about -but kept on anyways to maintain his cover.

"Walker," I replied as we made our way downstairs. "If I keep being called to the office like this, people will end up getting suspicious."

"I know that, but Valak insisted I call you in," he said. "And you know she'd never do that unless it was an absolute emergency."

He pulled open the large doors that revealed a presidential hallway which led to Valak's office then dismissed himself. It was so silent the only thing convincing me that I wasn't in a vacuum, was the fact that I could still breathe. I took advantage of that and drew in a harsh breath before continuing down the passageway. The whitewashed walls were decorated by pictures of past convent leaders and founders, most of which were a part of the Agency. Apparently, this very school had been a training facility way before it was built into a Catholic school and a lot of its rich history had been preserved, including the underground passages which existed to this very day.

I twisted the golden knob and opened Valak's office, which unlike the hallway, was dark, warm and smelt like citrus flavoured varnish, alcohol and roses; but it was just as beautiful, maintaining the same modern-day Victorian aesthetic that the whole school seemed to have.

"Agent B92, come in, take a seat," she greeted.

"Is this about my grades?" I asked sarcastically and she chuckled.

"Oh it's a lot more interesting than that."

Valak stood up and almost tripped over her long sheet of a skirt. "Fucking hell," she muttered, yanking it away. Much like Mr Walker there were certain things about her cover she despised but being a nun seemed to have grown on her. Despite the ridiculous outfit, Valak seemed to love running a school and there was the irony of depicting yourself as a woman of God when in actual fact you were anything but.