Low-key | ✓

(1) Agent Sun

Agent Sun

The atmosphere was thick with suspense. Fear struck the gray haired man who was already trembling as he clutched his chest in despair, the moment he saw the girl's demonic white eyes. If he hadn't heard the stories about the grey-eyed heartless assassin who killed mercilessly, he would have assumed that she had a cataract problem.

Pathetic. The girl thought to herself as she saw the man tremble in fear. He had this coming for him. If he hadn't committed a horrible crime, he wouldn't have been in this position.

The agent was assessing the man. If any stranger were to guess what this man did for a living, no one would get the correct answer. With his greying hair and business man attire, any normal person would assume he was a normal day-to-day businessman earning at least a hundred grand per anum. However, this definitely was not the case.

The agent's sterling grey eyes held a glint of annoyance to them. This mission was taking her too long. Only having assigned to it two hours ago, the agent already had consumed so much time by searching for this man's hideout, which turned out to be the penthouse suite in a local hotel in Los Angeles, California.

Turnip Green was supposed to be just a shot away from being dead- but no, apparently, the man had so called fighting skills that he tried to use against the secret agent. For the past few minutes, ever since she had penetrated into his penthouse suite and caught him holding a filecase full of FBI documents, the guy has been putting up quite the show.

He kept moving around and annoying her with his low level martial arts training to the extent that she couldn't even shoot because he was that much of a nutcase to turn her off from shooting. Quite ironic really, usually when people like him annoy her, she puts a bullet through their brain instantly.

But for Turnip Green's case, it was different. He was more than just annoying. He was a fifty six year old nutjob who raped seventeen men. You heard right. Men. Turnip was gay- and she had nothing against that. But since he was old and alone, the only way he could get his sexual needs was to kidnap and rape young boys. She couldn't even grasp the fact that such an ill-mannered being could exist. He didn't deserve to live.

And that was the reason she was here. She took a gun from her thigh holster, the garter making an echoing sound across the room as she released the metal contraption from its hold. She flipped the silencer on to prevent the whole hotel from hearing such a loud gunshot and took her aim, "Alright, Green. Game over."
A bullet was fired, and despite his lame attempt to dodge it, the man's eyes rolled to the back of his head as soon as she raised her white glock and pulled the trigger. The silence brought by the man's death was deafening, and the girl had to make her footsteps louder just so she could make sure she could still hear. She put her glock back into the holster, turning its safety on.

Her black Loubutin's clacked against the suite's tiled floor as she walked over to the dead man's body and picked up the FBI files. Glaring at the dead man, she opened the filecase.

This was worse than what she had expected. Her eyes widened in complete utter disgust as she muttered a quick curse word. Portfolios of boys aged 15 to 19 years old were stacked upon each other. A maximum of fifty portfolios were inside the silver filecase. As she opened the first one, she saw an ID photo, and the boy's whole biography.

His name was Andrei Jersen, 15 years old, from Pennsylvania. He had brown hair, dimples, and he was a virgin. Her eyes widened in shock. Who knew that the FBI kept information like this? She put the portfolio back into the case and locked it close. She laid her eyes on the dead corpse once more and scoffed.

"Rest in hell, Turnip Green." She muttered underneath her breath and kept the filecase close to her hip and walked towards the biggest window in the suite.

She exited the hotel building like any normal human being would. Well not exactly, she dove from the sixth floor. And while doing it, she spoke onto the earpiece attached to her left ear.

"Clean up, now."

-

It was another normal day in the blonde's life. While everyone around her remained ignorant of the harsh truth that there were criminals spread out along every corner of the big apple, she saw right through every single one.

And she was the blonde. She scoffed at the thought.

She dug her hands into her white jean pockets and walked through the scorching hot morning sun.The streets were bustling with people at this hour, wanting to get to work as early as they could.

She was, too. She was called into the office today. She wasn't aware of the reason, but she went still. She knew not to ask questions when the conversation was through a phone call. She speed walked on the cemented road in her sky high black Loubutin's, trying to hurry like everyone else. She knew she should have just taken her Harley Davidson, but it was the boss' orders not to ride any particular vehicle when going to the office.

Her boss was really strict, but he was like family to her, and her to him. But she couldn't help but think that he was such a prick sometimes, she even tells it to his face often.

"Oh, shoot. Sorry." Her thoughts about her boss were cut short when she felt scorching hot liquid come in contact with her skin.

She glared at the fresh coffee stain that lingered on her white v neck shirt and was now cascading down to her white jeans. She growled loudly and looked at the boy who spilled his Frappucino all over her white outfit.

He had dirty blonde hair, a sharp jaw line, and a pair of captivating sea green eyes. His nose was a little crooked, showing that he had it broken a couple times, and his pink lips were morphed into a guilty frown. She glared at his apologetic eyes and breathed out a heavy sigh.

The boy started to speak, "I'm so sorry, I was in a hur-"

She cut him off by grabbing his shirt collar and raising him a foot away from the ground. She never tore her sterling grey eyes away from his sea green ones that held a mix of emotions- guilt, fear, and admiration. She didn't know why his eyes held admiration, but she was more than ready to bruise them.

The good thing about New York City was that no one stuck their noses in your business. She was glad that they did. Or else this prick wasn't the only one getting a hit today. No one looked their way. Even though it was quite unusual to see a girl in a coffee drenched white attire and stilettos holding a six foot tall blonde guy by the collar, they all minded their own businesses.

Fear was swimming inside the dirty blonde boy's eyes as he remained still, waiting for the girl's next move. What he did was wrong, even though it was just an accident. What if this girl had an important business meeting? Or had a job interview? He was responsible for the destruction of her formal outfit for a probably special event, and he wouldn't forgive himself if that was the case.

The girl had her eyes fixated on the boy, and they never broke eye contact. Her mouth morphed into a scowl as she spoke, her voice lowering by two octaves, that if you didn't pay enough attention, you wouldn't hear it, "Watch where you're going next time, turd."

She then dropped the blonde haired boy back to his feet and strutted away in her stilettos, leaving slacked jaw dropped and speechless. By the looks of it, he thought she was going to beat him up and kill him. The girl frowned as she walked away, she thought she was, too.

Guess they were both left speechless.

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I

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