Evelyn.
"Mr. Samson," I pressed my knuckles further onto the metal table, bending over it to get closer to the man in front of me, "It's over. Your fingerprints were identified on the murder weapon."
The middle-age man frowned, subtly enough that a normal person wouldn't catch it.
I'm not a normal person though.
A slight sneer erupted on his face as he jolted forward, his cuffed hands grabbing my button-up shirt. It was a poor attempt to gain control, but just for a moment, it did.
Only out of sheer surprise, that is.
A weak move, in my opinion.
"When I get out of here," he spat, "I'm coming for you."
And a weak threat.
In one rushed movement, I yanked his hands back, pushing him so that he fell back into his place. I pulled away, straightening out my
shirt as two police officers ran into the
room and grabbing ahold of the man in front of me.
I paused, just for a moment and turned to the man struggling against the two armed force officers,
"I'm counting on it."
I straightened my collar, walking out with a strong stride and pushing the two metal doors open.
With a quick snap, I snapped on my black sunglasses, a douche mood in retrospect.
As I was still inside, of course.
"Agent Fitzgerald!" A secretary scurried over to me, holding out a file with outstretched arms and walking quickly to match my pace, "I need you to sign these."
All the while still walking, my hand reached into my pocket, pulling out a pen.
I uncapped it with my teeth, scribbling my signature before capping it and returning it into its place once more, before continuing my descent down the hall.
Turning the corner, I push the metal doors and reveal a room of suited men all huddled around a table.
All their eyes were on me.
Of course they were.
"Chief Hood?" I called out, the man in charge of this entire section of the bureau.
I fucking hate men.
I cleared my throat, tossing the case file onto the desk, "Samson's all yours."
The room went eerily silent, the thick air as the men all analyzed me. Scrutinizing me. Trying to pick apart my appearance in my suit, trying to figure out how a girl managed to permanently incriminate a mafia leader. A mafia leader that they all had tried to get, and failed.
They tried to take me apart, bit by bit.
Like vultures.
"Agent Fitzgerald," Hood called while I was almost out the door. I internally rolled my eyes, turning my head forward.
"Yes, Chief?"
He made a small tilt of his head, "Good job today."
Wordlessly I nodded, turning back to the doors and pushing them open.
YOU ARE READING
fbi- lrh
Fanfiction"Agent Hemmings?" I looked over the man in the frame of my door. He was currently out of his usual, formal work suit and in a black leather jacket. His whole getup, in fact, was black, dark, brooding. And it was very strange. "Luke," he corrected...
