FBI Agent

Four.

Monday arrives and I'm standing in my new bedroom trying to look like a regular sixteen year old. For the past two years, I've spent every day being a trained assassin and it feels like I've completely forgotten how to act or look like a teenager again. My nerves begin to increase and I let out a frustrated groan, reaching for a pair of jeans.

"Hunter?"

I hear my name being called out from behind the bedroom door and I sigh, sitting down onto the edge of the bed. "Come in."

The door opens and Micah pops his head around, dressed in his usual all dark combo.

"Do sixteen year old girls still wear jeans like this?" I mutter, holding them up. Micah tilts his head as he leans back against the wall before nodding slowly.

"Yeah, I think so. Pair it with a t-shirt and you're good to go."

"Thanks Micah." I smile softly, giving him a grateful look. He simply nods at me in return, his face emotionless. Despite the look on his face, I know he'll be thinking hard about the case. I know him too well.

"What can I do for you?" I ask him, rifling through my suitcase for a suitable shirt. I pick out a plain black shirt because I can't seem to fully abandon the colour. It's the one piece of comfort I really have.

"I need you to be careful Hunter." Micah says quietly, closing the door over. I frown and whirl towards him, speaking in a hushed tone.

"Why? I thought you told me this assignment wouldn't be dangerous. I'm not complaining, I like dangerous." I shrug. Micah looks at me intensely, dark eyes burning through me. I hold his stare for a few seconds —

"I don't think Veronica explained the mission thoroughly to us. This guy is dangerous, really dangerous. I'm guessing his son isn't far off either."

"You think I can't handle myself?" I ask him, one eyebrow raised. Micah pauses for a second and I narrow my eyes at him. His response should have been instant. I whirl around and within a split second reach for my knife inside my suitcase. It hurtles through the air directly for Micah before landing an inch away from his face, cracking the plaster on the wall.

His eyes turn a shade darker, full of thunder. I give him a sickly sweet smile in response, a smug look on my face.

"Trust me, I can handle myself." I say confidently, walking straight up to him and yanking the knife out the wall. I turn to walk away from him but he reaches out, gripping tightly onto my wrist to hold me in place. I pause on the spot, my body stilling completely.

"Don't do that again Hunter. You know I have faith in you."

"Don't ever doubt me Micah." I snap back, yanking my wrist out of his hold. I clench my jaw as I swing open my bedroom door, signalling for him to leave. He barely glances at me before whirling around and storming out.

*****

I turn the corner and come face to face with the school building. The large letters spelling out WESTMINSTER MET COLLEGE greet me along with the swarms of students making their way inside. I let out a groan under my breath, swinging my backpack over my shoulder.

"Here goes nothing," I mutter, climbing up the steps and towards the building. I left school when I was fourteen, the day I became homeless. During my time at school, I struggled with pretty much every single lesson. That is until I enrolled with the FBI. I studied day and night until I passed with an A* on every subject. Now I would have to pretend to do it all over again. . . whilst trying to become the girlfriend of a high risk criminal's son.