A Deadly Destiny

When I was five, I fired my first gun. When I was seven I couldn't miss a target. When I turned twelve I killed my first mark, ever since then I have been a secret, nobody even knows who I am. Now I'm seventeen and I don't mind the kill anymore they are just faces without names. Now I have been given a new target, problem is that he is like me, a trained killer. Will I be able to do what I've been trained to?

8Likes
12Comments
1268Views
AA

3. Eyes

I quickly unassembled my sniper and put it away; the mark's body was leaking blood and his bodyguards were in an uproar. The funniest thing was that I didn't even know his name, he was simply another face, another body. I was already scurrying away from my sniping position. 

I was wearing a skimpy teenage outfit with too much makeup, I had put my gun into a pink backpack with hearts and stars all over it. It was the perfect disguise, and I hated every second I had to wear it. I heard men coming so I jogged a few steps so I could start to casually huff and puff like I was hiking the trail.

I had already been out all day, and I thought to myself I need more sunscreen. So I took out the bottle and started to mist my arms and legs with the spray. Men came up in front of me seconds after I had closed my eyes and started to spray. I had to go the extra mile so I pretended they had startled me and let my mouth drop and eyes open. The spray got everywhere I started to cough and blink profusely. One of the men apologized while the others continued to their destination. He tried to help me, he rummaged through his bag until he found eye drops and a water bottle. I gratefully accepted. 

He was the youngest of the group of men that I had been observing, probably mid-twenties; he looked like I would think a father would. He was kind. I tilted my head back and let him dribble some teardrops into my eyes. 

"Thank you so much!" I said in my best teenage voice, my normal voice could scare a mob boss. 

"Oh it's fine, I have a daughter about your age, it wouldn't do for me to leave you there." He said.

His buddies came back, "couldn't even find a trail. The bullet casing is gone so no chance on a finger print."

I gave a strange look to the man who said this; it was my best 'what the hell are you talking about' face. He realized I was still standing there and tried to explain. "We are on a scavenger hunt and the last clue told us that the next clue would be here." He lied.

"Oh well that sounds terribly fun but I'm afraid I must be going now if I wish to get in my workout and then drive home before my mom yells at me." I said casually. "By the way thanks, maybe I'll see you around." I said to the guy that helped me as I turned to leave. 

"Yup, no prob." He said. I heard someone scoff when they thought I was out of hearing range, "teenagers, so oblivious to what's happening in the real world." This made me smile and think, 'oh no buddy you are the one that's oblivious.'

I got in my jeep after the one mile hike back to it, instantly I felt eyes on me. I acted as casual as possible, being a teen. I slung my backpack into the backseat and sat behind the wheel for a minute or so checking texts. They were all superficial I got one from Tiffany asking if I finished my hike. Another from Amanda complaining about being grounded. The last one is from Matthew, I don't even want to think about the guy back at MI6 making up those texts. Matthew was the guy that really liked me and as my texts to Amanda and Tiffany show I like him too.

They are my backup story if things ever get out of control, they always have the same background story but different names, like me. Last week I went by Raquel Jameson, now I'm Emily Smithers. I have the paperwork every time I change my name within hours: drivers license, passport, birth certificate, and as I like to call it, my invisible license to kill.

I used my rear view mirror to apply some sticky lip gloss, smearing in the nasty glittery stuff. I could feel the knife in my boot but wondered if it would matter that I had it there, if they were looking at me and I couldn't see them they probably had a gun. I toggled the mirrors for a moment, checking my hair, throwing it up into a messy bun. I sighed playing with my hair like it wasn't good enough.

Finally I dug the keys out of a pouch in my backpack, the roof wasn't on my Jeep Wrangler, nor were the doors. It was yellow, in my opinion it was too bright but at least it wasn't pink. I sped down the mountain trails blasting country music, which I had discovered I liked, I sang along to some of the songs. Slowly I felt the eyes on me disappear.

I eventually slowed down and drove "home". It was a large house where two agents were assigned as my parental units. I had started to like Cameron, he was a good fake dad; but I felt as if Beth overplayed the dramatic mom a bit too much. So naturally when I got "home" she started in on me about being late and not calling her. We argued for a moment then I retired to my room where I closed my curtains and opened my drawers and closet. Instant target range, it was nice because I had hooked it up with a projector so I could put pictures of targets up and practice. In my room I didn't have guns though, only the basement was soundproofed so that was the place where I could use guns it had a ventilation system so the smell didn't get overwhelming; personally though I like the smell of gun powder.

I picked out a knife from my drawer, I caressed the blade lovingly, like it was an old friend. I opened my next assignment and put it up on the projector, every time I saw a picture of the target I lobbed a knife at it. Most were dead center others were only a little off, it still bothered me. I read through his info, his normal schedule, his bodyguards, etc. My deadline was three days, his schedule was too simple, it left gaps and gaps weren't good; I'd have to do some personal surveillance.

I glanced at his profile again. His name? I can't remember.

All I know is that for the first time in seventeen years I failed. Some people told me afterwards that it was only a slight blemish in my perfect record, but now I wonder if it was a hole burning its way through me.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...