I'd like to dedicate this fiction to two amazing FanFic writers: first is PsychoticAppleSauce. I haven't read more than two chapters of one story by her but scrolling through her choices inspired me to make one of my own. All of them have unique flairs to them: werewolves, zombies, army, kidnappers, etc. They're so cool. And the second is Evil Beware We Have Waffles. Her unique flair story—The Quiet Scream—is one I've stuck with for awhile and it's worth it. You should go read both of their stories. Thank you. Also, my brother thought the idea was too good for a FanFic so I'm making an original character version that may soon find its way on FictionPress. If you aren't a Seddie fan or something like that there might be a regular version for you to read.

5:12 A.M. New York City, NY, U.S.A

Gunshots resounded throughout the street. The man shouted to his comrades to spread out as to catch the boy. Their guns cocked, they fanned out along the alleyway between the two towering skyscrapers. Staring coldly into the dark stretch before them, they awaited some movement. The young boy, nimble as a gymnast, moved slowly up the fence to escape the men. They didn't notice the culprit was escaping right under their noses. He thanked his all-black clothing for being able to be hidden as he sat on the top of the fence. Still the men's eyes roved all over in desperate want for movement that they didn't even see him. Smiling to himself, he extracted the gun from his pocket and aimed it at the closest man.

"Bye-bye, buddy." he whispered, and pulled the trigger. It hit the man right in the chest with a loud pop. He screamed as the pain processed and fell to the ground, writhing. The blood flowed from the wound, dribbling onto the icy, damp pavement. He wasn't afraid of the blood being there tomorrow for he knew citizens of the city would just assume it was an unfortunate gang fight. If they only knew it was much, much more serious than that.

The others began firing blindly at the spot where he was instead of tending to their injured comrade—it's a dog-eat-dog situation here and if you get shot, then you better learn to heal real fast. The boy dodged the bullets like an acrobat, flexing his body in ways unthinkable. Once the bullets ceased for a half-second, he let out a cackle and jumped over to the other side where he sprinted far away from the sight.

He ran past the people walking down the street and the cars whizzing by. He kept moving farther away from the gun-toting chaps until he found himself in the center of Times Square. Broadway musical posters stared back at him as lights flashed and blinked. He smirked, running in between one of the buildings where he whipped out his walkie-talkie.

"Agent 008 here." he said into the box, "I've lost them. No injuries…at least, on me. Over." Static from the walkie-talkie echoed into the alley.

"Don't get cocky, Agent 008." said the husky voice of an elder man, "Arrogance is step one in getting murdered out there."

"Okay, okay!" the boy said, chuckling, "I'll stop being 'cocky' once I lose a gunfight." He could practically see the man sighing and running his temples at his teenage confidence.

"Well, you are one of our best agents." he said, "Anyway, you have it?" The boy patted his gun-free pocket where a lump rested—his prize.

"You bet, sir." he said.

"Good. We'll be waiting, Agent 008. Over." Again the static sounded and the conversation ended. With a smirk he attached the walkie-talkie to his belt and agilely left the scene.

He knew he was an arrogant stinker but why shouldn't he be? He was very flexible, the master of disguise, and could kill a guy five feet away with any weapon. His talents had originated at birth from being born to an agent and being trained since childhood to be the boy he was today. It was his destiny to defeat all the enemy agents singlehandedly. He knew, however, that his fame may be short-lived; if they ever found her, she'd be the one they revered and fawned over all because of her blood. If he ever met her, he'd make sure he was still number one, no matter what it cost. He wasn't about to let some girl with no experience top him in the eyes of the agency. He was the best. Forever and always. Through blood and death, he'd be the best killer they ever had.

Playing with the loaded gun in his hand, he stared mercilessly at the brick wall before him. He could see his boss handing over everything he had worked for to the girl just because of who she was. It would happen if he didn't do anything. In a fit of jealous rage he aimed for the girl's head and shot, only to remember he was staring a wall, not an actual person. But in his head he had hit her dead-on and the proud smirk on his face revealed that. No way would she beat him.

No. Frickin'. Way.

I do hope you all enjoy this short first chapter. The next one will be up soon. I don't want to update right after because I want to see what the recption will be like. If it's good, I'll continue. Please review if you like it so I know this isn't a total waste.