I know a lot people ignore these things. I mean, so do I. I think they're a waste of time to my reading but I'll write one anyways.

Author's First Note: Okay, well… How should I start this? I'm a newbie, a noob, a beginner, whatever the hell you want to call me. I've written stories before, but most of them were for my English projects and for my amusement (I know. No life). I'm not going to tell you to go easy on me. I do not appreciate being treated like a wuss. So please, I would enjoy your criticism. Just no hate reviews. I'll probably try to control myself if I do get some. But if your review is so horrid that it makes me scream bloody murder.. Never mind.

Enjoy, if you will. Unexpected Reality - Chapter 1: Interrogation Situation

Derrick growled. "I can't believe this is happening," he mumbled, staring at the figure on the other side of the one-sided mirrors. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated as hell. Did life seriously hate him that much?

Taking another swig of his coffee, Derrick cursed. Cam chuckled in response.

"Come on, man. Did you seriously think you would never see her again?" Cam asked.

Derrick clenched his jaw. Cam snorted and patted Derrick on the back for some support.

"I was hoping I wouldn't, actually," snarled Derrick. He retreated his eyes back to her.

She was nothing like she was five years ago. Instead of having her face caked with expensive makeup products doo-da's, she only had little eye-liner on and mascara to bring out her amber eyes. She wasn't even wearing designer clothes for fuck sakes. Only sporting a pair of dark denim shorts and a plain white v-neck, which strangely accentuated her curves.

It wasn't like he was attracted to her in any way. Though she was undeniably gorgeous. No sane straight male would try and deny it. Unless of course that male was gay. But Derrick Harrington was nota gay. He was far from it.

Cam elbowed Derrick slightly in the ribs, catching his attention.

"You want to do it? Or should I?" he asked. Derrick stayed silent.

Did he want to? He pondered for a second.

Fuck, no.

Cam smirked at his expression. "Thought so," he asserted. Grabbing the manila folder from Derrick, he exited the watching room and entered the other.

Derrick dropped his coffee in the trash can and ordered the guy with thick square-rimmed glasses seated in front of the control panel to start recording. This was going to be interesting.

Setting the folder down on the metal table, Cam took a seat on the other side of the suspect, not caring that she was glaring him down.

"What the hell is this?" she demanded. "One minute I'm getting a turkey sub at Subway and the next I'm being taken away by the FBI." Her voice was calm, but still stern. Guess some things never change.

She glared at Cam as he snickered, going through the papers.

"Massie Block," Cam simply stated, looking directly at her. He clicked his tongue. "Never thought those words would come out from you. Since when did you go to Subway? I thought girls like you went to some fancy French restaurant to talk about Paris Hilton's new best friend," he joked.

Massie raised an eyebrow and stared intently at Cam.

She was starting to recognize him.

"Cameron Fisher," she countered.

Derrick sighed. She already knew.

"Never thought you would ever work for the FBI. Thought you would always become a egotistical soccer player," Cam let out a small smile.

"But I guess my assumptions were wrong," Massie added, looking smug.

She glanced down at the folder.

"So what am I wanted here for?" Massie asked. "Murder? Embezzlement? Homicide?"

"Depends," Cam drawled, slamming the file shut. "Did you kill someone?"

Massie stayed silent, and looked over at the 'mirror'. Her eyes were trained on Derrick's, catching him off guard for a moment. She was probably checking her reflection. He doubt she knew he was there.

"Nah," she whispered, tearing her gaze away from Derrick and straight into Cam.

"I'm a lot of things, Fisher." Massie murmured. "But I'm not someone who would go against the law. Let alone, kill."

Cam grinned and stood up to head for the mini fridge.

"Never said you were." He grabbed a small bottle of Coke and placed it in front of Massie, sitting back down.

"So what do you want from me, exactly?" She asked, ignoring the soda.

Cam pursed his lips and disregarded her question. "Thought you didn't have any lunch." He nodded towards the drink. "Just being courteous for an old friend."

Massie rolled her eyes, a small smile planted on her lips. She uncapped the bottle and took a small sip before placing it back down and turning her attention back to Cam.

Derrick smirked. Massie's eyes said it all. She wasn't going to get distracted.

Cam cleared his throat and opened the file again. He took a photograph of a blonde girl in her early twenties and place it in front of her.

The girl was just another innocent victim of the serial killer he and Cam had been tracking down ever since they entered the business. At every crime scene that bastard caused, no forensic evidence would be found. Not even a single thread or fingerprint. All important evidence was gone, except for the body and his signature move: a pentagram carved into the victim's left palm.

Derrick waited for Massie's reaction. He got nothing. If she was feeling anything in the inside, she was definitely not portraying anything on her face.

"Emily Yearning," Cam stated. He looked back at Massie, who simply stared back at him.

"You know her?" he questioned.

Massie nodded in response. "She was somewhat a friend."

Derrick's eyebrows shot up. Was? She already knew? They didn't even contact any of the family members yet.

Cam caught on too. "Was?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Yup," Massie remarked, popping the 'p'. "Was."

Silence. Derrick could tell Cam was confused, although he didn't show it. He wasn't supposed to.

"She's dead, right?" she asked, motioning towards the picture. Cam narrowed his eyes slightly.

Huh.

"Why would you think that, Massie?" Cam demanded.

"Because," She drawled. One second passed. Then two. She was stalling.

It wasn't after five that Massie finally spoke. "I'm here, am I not? Why else would you be showing me a picture of her?"

Derrick clenched his jaw. Massie Block was hiding something.

Cam snickered, and placed a sheet of paper filled with call logs from Yearning's cell, covering the picture of Emily.

"Your phone number. Her phone." He pointed at the numerous highlighted phone numbers.

Massie crinkled her eyebrows in confusion. Faux confusion, that is. "So?" She carelessly played with her bead necklace.

Derrick noticed she wasn't wearing that weird gold charm bracelet of hers she wore throughout middle school and high school. Must have lost it. He snickered. Massie probably through a bitch fit when that happened.

"So… Not only were you the last one Yearning called right before she got murdered, but she also called you numerous times that day." Massie blinked.

"That's just a little too much phone calls for a 'somewhat' friend," he observed.

Silence once again.

"What did she want?"

Massie sat up and placed her hands on the table, not tearing her gaze away from him. Determination and vengeance was what she portrayed. Not pity, nor anger.

"To make sure I was safe."

"Why? You in danger or something?" Cam asked, taking Massie's bottle and taking a long swig from it.

"Sorry, thirsty." Although he didn't seem sorry at all.

Massie ignored his apology and smiled. "Guess you could say that."

Cam growled impatiently. "What kind of danger, Massie?"

Derrick watched Massie as she crossed her arms and sunk down into the chair, looking back at the mirror. Her eyes were right where Derrick was, once again.

"Someone's out to kill me," Massie said, fading out her voice.

Who would want to kill Massie Block?

Oh wait, Derrick could think of a lot of people. There was that bitchy wannabe, Everleigh Haties, who did everything she could do to take down Massie back at high school. Then there was that sophomore, Geoff Kristy, who had a freaky crush on her in freshman year. Said he would do anything to get her.

Of course, there was the serial killer. But what would he want from -

"Derrick," she added smugly, finishing her sentence.

He froze, surprised.

Shit.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY SUBWAY FRANCHISE AND THE FBI. AND IF THIS SERIAL KILLER IS ACTUALLY REAL AND WAS A CASE, PLEASE DON'T HURT ME. I MADE UP ALL THAT STUFF. PINKY DOUBLE-CROSSING SWEAR.

In case your brain wasn't functioning correctly while you were reading this or my writing is just that terrible, Derrick and Cam work for some bad-people busting place, also known as the FBI. I might add in some of the old characters from The Clique. But I'm sure I'll add new ones too. I have no idea how this FBI thingy works, but I'm willing to learn. So bare with me here.

I would also like to inform you that this story has nothing to do with Massie running away and being protected by some random hot agent. I picture Massie to be unfazed by anything horrific. Massie's going to work for the FBI, so she's going to be trained and is going learn how to shoot and do all that stuff.

I'm into the mystery/crime kind of shows, like CSI, Psych, and NCIS. I'm going to try and add some comedy in it because comedy amuses me. And yes, you crazy fans. There is definitely going to be romance and crap like that. Not that romance is crap. I love romance.

Lastly, I am a big lazy bum. So I have no idea when I will post the next chapter or part. Patience is key to living a happy life, you know.

Random Fact: Odontophobia it the fear of teeth.

Love you with all my nonexistent love,

Melissa