To say that what I do is a family business would almost be disgracing the idea of family. No matter how you sliced it though, essentially, my family revolved around our occupations. It was impressive, really, how you could keep something in a family for so many years, it being an exclusive secret for many, many, many generations. It wasn't something we showed off, like how some families pride themselves in having a line of artists, bakers, or keeping a restaurant in the family; that was quaint, cute, and very much traditional. I guess, in a sense we are artists, in our own special way. What we do requires training, skill, finesse, calculations down to the smallest of details.

It's not that we aren't proud of it. I'm sure that somewhere in history, we were loved for what we did. Maybe. I do know you can see glimpses of my ancestors in paintings, unbeknownst to the actual artist, of course. They were painting figures that existed without existing, living above yet amongst the people. We lived under the guise of a perfect family, so unsuspecting. We always knew everything about our neighbors, the entire subdivision, even the entire city. We had to, it was part of the job. Knowing your surroundings, knowing who's who and who was important meant everything. Keeping a low profile was just as important. Thusly, we never stayed long in any one city. Or country, for that matter.

Throughout my childhood, I was shown off like a prize at family gatherings. Somehow, even in my infancy, there was something special about me that everyone could see. Maybe, even then, my eyes held exactly what they were supposed to: nothing. I was the purest form the family had ever produced and I made sure to keep up that standard as I reached adulthood. I had people to impress.

I was so successful in the family business that, by the time I was 17, I had 7 homes: one on each continent. They called me 'perfect' for our line of work. Often, they doted on my 'charming' blue eyes. One could say they looked cold, as was my nature and all I knew, but I had the ability to make the cold so inviting, like the blues were suddenly a cool drink of water while you struggled through the hot, arid desert. I had the perfect mask. I could fool anyone. I had the power of innocence on my side, despite being everything but. I was the perfect specimen.

I was home schooled, both in my training and in my real school; yet, I continued to entertain the idea of normalcy, attending school after school wherever we stayed. My parents were never home, always away on business, so I took it upon myself to achieve anything normal. I was somewhat of a genius thanks to starting early in school and suffering through rigorous educational exercises. People like me had to be at the top of our games, we couldn't allow ourselves to slip. I was no exception, excelling was just easy. It was always easy for my family, it was like we had some sort of genetic predisposition to be the best at everything.

School to school, I pretended to be someone different. Sometimes, I allowed myself to show off, but mostly, I kept myself at an average level. Sometimes I pretended to be popular, sometimes I was indie, punk, anything to keep myself interested when I didn't have an assignment. It was easy to pretend to be someone I wasn't, I was taught to do so my whole life. This time, however, I decided to play dumb. I was naturally blond, and when I didn't act stupid, people looked at me strangely. I was expected to fall into a stereotype. I had always rejected it, until now.

It was the last year I could easily slide under the radar to attend high school, so I thought whynot? Give everyone what they want from me, that's what I've been doing my whole life, as it is.

Strangely, my family moved us to Lima, Ohio. It had to be the blandest place I'd ever been to. Cornfields, farmlands, and cows are more exciting in Europe where there are interesting landmarks to take in, historical beauty that inspired poetry, beautiful landscapes that literally left you breathless, if you had a thing for that. But out here, in Ohio, there was nothing. The closest thing to an interesting landmark was the local water tower.

I was puzzled. Normally, we lived on the coast, or in a prominent city while we worked on an assignment. If anything important was going on, we were privy to it, and all I could wonder was, what could possibly be so important in this little town?

I guess I should elaborate on what brings me to and fro, traipsing all around the globe. How I came to all my successes, how I became famous without being known or seen for what I really am.

I'm a professional killer. An assassin, if you will. We pride ourselves in what little people know about us, what little they can ever find out before they're silenced, how easily we can take a life.

I'll never forget how the tips of my light hair were tarnished red the first time the knife slid so effortlessly through his throat. The blood was rich and warm as it hit my cheek from the proximity. The steel blade was impossibly sharp, it was like cutting through butter, and I was numb. Everything my training had taught me, I followed to a tee.

I was only 14, on assignment in Italy. My family and I all had our targets. We were there on familyvacation, the thought of a normal vacation just felt weird. I spent my time stalking and hunting my prey. He was a corrupt banker. We made a point to do as much good as we could, but it was hard to hide the fact that we were killing someone. Taking a father, a brother, or a husband. Maybe we were taking all of those away. I was raised not to care.

My parents had little involvement in my training. We were related by blood but the relationship stopped there. Besides funneling money into my pockets before I could provide for myself, we had little contact if we weren't on a mission, and often they never helped me. I was raised to be alone and to be completely self-reliant.

Kills in places like Italy were exotic and motivational. I felt like I was a part of something important, but being prompted to Ohio just felt low and lazy. What kind of contract had I accepted? Dangerous cow tippers on the loose, this has to stop.

I chuckled to myself. I was often lost in thought, and despite being cold mostly, I was always at home around me and only me. I didn't hold other attachments, so it was easy to move in and out of a situation. My upbringing taught me that love did not exist. Whatever sense of family that existed in my life was purely for the sake of continuing the lineage, passing down the knowledge which we had held for generations. Really, it was a bit like a family recipe, no one else could know the ingredients, but some could see your handy work. The business was rather lucrative, anyone that could stay alive long enough could see that.

It was easy to forge all of the documents I needed. It was just part of the training. Everything seemed like part of my training. Sometimes, I wondered how everyone else made it in life without knowing what I did. Everything was so simple, really, it was almost funny. I could outsmart any government computer system, law enforcement was a joke, and schools were just fun to mess with. I registered myself under Brittany S. Pierce. It was almost an inside joke with myself. A throwback to the first time I'd heard music during one of my first hits.

'Hitmebabyonemoretime',it echoed through the parking garage as the bullet left the snug barrel of my silenced 9mm. My targets head slumped forward onto the steering wheel as I climbed from the backseat, completely unnoticed. I had tracked his movements perfectly and knew he was the last to leave the office building, and always rather late. Normally, my assignments were completed without any ambience, or any interruption. But I couldn't help but smile at the irony in the tune. Though it only took one skilled shot to put down my target, the song seemed to speak for the moment. It was dark, I thought, for something like that to coincide, but nevertheless it formed a memory on that day.

. . .

I arrived to Mckinley High in a somewhat unassuming car, a midnight blue Astin Martin Vanquish was unassuming right? Maybe I should have chosen a different car from the expansive garage this morning, but at this school it seemed like tractors should have been the ride of choice. Anything extra would have been flashy.

I got there early enough, so as to avoid any looks, and mainly to avoid people in general. It wouldn't take me anytime to slip into character, but I didn't want to be rushed into it unnecessarily. I surveyed the area as I slid out from behind the wheel clad in heels, dark skinny jeans, and a black leather jacket. Literally, this place was a barren wasteland that had been dropped in the middle of a cowpie infested cornfield.

As I watched the other students file in, in scarce numbers, it was still rather early, I couldn't help but feel a little over dressed as well. Maybe I didn't have to play the dumb blonde or a wholesome girl. Maybe I could be something exotic, or at least something grander, more exciting than this place and its people. The other girls were dressed so casually, no uniforms here. I had done the whole Catholic school girl thing, but the things my family knew and had taught me about institutions made going to private schools more of a joke, entertainment for me when I was bored. What could they make up this time to cover something else up? It was rather amusing- coming from an upbringing that was all about hiding- how poorly an entire group of men, in charge of so many people and their faiths, hid their own dysfunctions.

A group of, what I guessed were, football players strutted by my car, giving both me and the car a once, twice, thrice, over. I smiled sweetly, already working my facade as I shut the door to the car. One mohawked boy raised his chin in a cocky manner towards me, but continued to walk along with a perpetual smirk. His equally tall, equally buff and tough friends walked by with the similar expressions.

As quickly as I had smiled, it faded as soon as they were out of sight. The hot stench of a cigarette infiltrated my nostrils, assaulting my senses. I hated the smell of smoke. It lingered on your body, made you easy to detect, and really did nothing for your body. What was the point? it was an all around negative thing to do to yourself. The clicking of heels followed the smell, creeping up the asphalt slowly. Confidence rang out with each click to the pavement, like a model on a runway, but more like the CEO of a business marching down the halls. Authority, confidence, bitch. All of it clanged from her heels.

The bud of the cigarette landed short of my feet after I'd heard the flick. I scowled, littering also aggravated me. Cleanliness was a top priority, and I was the first to admit, but to myself and myself only, that I may have taken it a bit too far, bordering on obsessive. I tore my eyes from the ground and slowly traveled up the elongated, tanned legs attached to the mouthy heels. She seemed to go by slowly, maybe we were both assessing each other. Her dark sunglasses made it difficult for me to see her line of vision, but I could see the slight shift in her head, almost a subtle nod as her eyes traveled up my body.

She passed in a skintight blue dress with a white jacket. This was definitely not a Catholic school. The dress left nothing to the imagination, I thought for a moment that it may have been painted on. I followed her gaze with my own as she continued to sashay by, putting an unconscious slight umph to her hips' sway. Much like the boy with the mohawk, her chin titled up, finally done with her assessment, I assumed. Shortly after, she turned her head and walked into the building.

Funny, it had seemed like such a long time for her to walk by. Really, it was merely seconds. I could tell many things from her strut passed, however. One, she was a senior. I could tell both from the parking spot her sporty red coupe occupied- rather close to my own car- and from her arrogant, 'Irunthisplace' spring in her step. Two, she's definitely a cheerleader. She looked far too popular and far too slim -yet athletic- to have played any other sport. I can't imagine their golf team looked anything like her. Finally, despite her efforts to size me up, I could tell that somewhere, she had some sort of insecurities locked up behind that stoney exterior.

Yes, I only needed one glance, one sway of the hip, one clang of the heel to tell me all that I needed to know. I had found the person at the top of the popularity pyramid. Befriending her would be easy. With popularity, even in these small social networks at schools, came popularity outside of the school. Her family was probably of some higher social standing.

I had planned on trying to enjoy this year at high school. Despite already having the equivalent to a high school diploma- in nearly every major country- I still wanted to go through the process of graduation. But something about the darker girl that walked by me told me I should have done my homework on this place beforehand.

I raised an intrigued eyebrow, it had been awhile since I'd gone 'commando' into a mission. It was a term we liked to use when we were basically blind in our surroundings, when we were naked of our essential information, all the information it took to be the best we could be. But like I said earlier, we were born to do this. Being equipped, that's what we did. I was naturally gifted.

I clicked the top left button on the keypad of the key-set and heard the low hum of the car beep, signaling that the doors were locked. I smothered the cigarette bud with the bottom of my shoe, hoping the stench hadn't permeated my clothes already, and I walked towards the building. The brown worn leather satchel I carried over my shoulder swung at my hip. It contained a few notebooks and pens, just the essentials for my first day of class.

I walked with conviction, but also maintained a level of shyness in my step that conveyed that I was new. I allowed myself brief moments of vulnerability to let others pick up on. My steely eyes darted over my class list. English was first, I had to make an effort to be a little late. It would get the attention from all the right people, emphasize that I was new, and I could get my show on the road.

Still, I was mildly troubled. My parents had been so vague about our assignment here, they still hadn't given me any of the details. I allowed myself to trail off with this thought, while I walked the halls. Though I appeared to be reading the crisply folded schedule in my hand, I was completely zoned out.

The warning bell for class rang and snapped me back into reality, but I didn't come back fast enough. I ran straight into the same pungent smell of cigarette smoke masking a faint cherry scent. I felt my legs tangle with hers as I began to fall forward, but my heightened reflexes prepared me to hit the ground. Instinctively, I reached out behind the head of thick black hair that also fell in front of me. I cupped my hand behind her dark neck and braced myself against the floor with my hand next to her head.

This wasn't looking as vulnerable or as ditzy as a real fall. I looked rather skilled, I inwardly smirked to myself until I realized I was inches from supple lips forming a disgusted and confused line. Her tan skin was a decent contrast compared to my own. A few people stopped in the hall, but I continued to hover over her body. Everything was still moving eerily slow.

I blinked and was suddenly catapulted back into the real time stream.

"What the fuck!" She cursed at me, and wiggled beneath me. Angular lines forming right above her eyebrows.

I let go of her head clumsily but still making sure it didn't smack the ground as I fumbled to stand up. It was time to play my part.

"I'm so sorry," I breathed out, starting my frantic dialogue. "This place is just super huge, and so complicated, I got lost. Then I thought I knew where I was going, but I realized I was really just lost again and it's so so confusing, I jus-" I rambled intentionally, but she cut me off, something softening in her expression.

"Hey," her brows furrowed signaling that the gears were turning in her mind, "just watch where you're going next time, alright?" Her lips pressed in a thin line, but her voice was small and quiet, like the words were only meant for me.

I helped her up, but one of the girls who had been walking with her chimed in, "watch your step, giant. Maybe next time you won't be late to the bean stalk." I almost chuckled. I was tall, rather proud of being tall, but it struck me funny how easily I could tell this girl was a protégé. She was awful with her comments that were supposed to sting. I grimaced, feigning sadness as I looked down and picked up my, now crumpled, schedule.

The girl snickered with a couple of other girls behind her. Her makeup was far too heavy, trying to hide some hideous acne and I could tell she was, at most a sophomore. The light laughing stopped abruptly as the darker girl dusted herself off.

"First of all, if you're going to follow me everywhere pretending to be me, we're gonna need a few rules, mmk?" She turned towards the younger girl who visibly shrunk under her gaze. Though the, I guessed Latina, was only a bit taller than her even in heels, her presence was demanding and commanding, dominating.

"Number one, if that's the best insult you can think of, just stop, just no." She shook her hands while holding up one finger and continued lifting a second finger, "number two, you don't insult unless I insult, got it?" The girl shook a bit before nodding, pressing her back up against the locker, realizing she was trapped under the older girl's shadow. Finally, a third finger sprang from her fist, "Lastly, get out of here.

"There is so much makeup on your face," She gestured towards her own face now making a swirling motion with her hand, "I feel like I could smear your face across the wall and paint the whole school that pasty flesh color you call a skin tone." Her tanned hands gave a slight push to the smaller girl as she ushered her and her two other friends away from us. I let a subtle smirk rest on my lips before the dark-haired girl turned back towards me.

"What a bitch, right?" She gave a chuckle. The halls were empty, and I couldn't help but wonder if her lighter mood was because she didn't have to perform for her audience anymore or if I had passed some sort of secret test in the parking lot earlier.

I returned her chuckle half heartedly remembering that I was still supposed to be lost. I knew exactly where I was going. If anything, I always researched floor-plans and memorized them down to the measurements. The crumpled paper in my hands rustled under my fingertips as I stared down at it dumbly, giving it an almost dopey glare.

I felt her eyes hover over the paper, "English with Higgins" she mused under her breath. "Coincidence," she smiled slightly, "that's where I'm headed." I smiled down to her watching her perk up a bit and begin to transition back into her hallway walk.

"Stick with me, kid and you'll make it. I'm Santana. Santana Lopez" She offered me a pinky finger. "Hot bitches get to class late, got that?" She shrugged like it was fact and waited for me to hook my finger around hers. I raised my eyebrow at the gesture, but replaced it quickly with a sweet smile and a nod, taking her tanned pinky in mine.

I inwardly smiled. She treated me differently. All of those childhood Christmas parties showcased that I was different, and beyond the boundaries of my family, it was no different. I could fool anyone, I could crack the hardest of shells.

I waited a bit while she walked me down the hall, her chest puffed out slightly. "My name's Brittany, by the way." Her pinky curled around mine a bit tighter. "Thanks for that, back there." I worked my shy angle, ducking my head slightly to look at our feet treading across the bland tile.

"Nothin' to it," she smugly answered with an upward nod. "Now, come on Britts, we've gots some Shakespeare to tackle." She opened the door and walked in with a confident smirk on her face.

Even the teacher didn't challenge her for being late. I realized I was innocent by association, and by a twist of fate, fell on the top of the food chain when I tripped in the hall. Only ten minutes in this school, and everyone was grade A meat below me.

She sat down and nodded towards the vacant seat next to her while the teacher continued the Iambic Pentameter lecture we had interrupted.

The first half of day had gone by smoothly. I had decent instructors, or so it seemed, and I had a few other classes with Santana. She didn't speak much in the classes, and surprised me by being rather studious. I pretended, throughout most of the lectures, to zone out. I had already learned it all, so there was no use in trying to participate. Besides, it would only lend further credit to my newest facade.

I stared longingly in math class at the wall mounted clock. The teacher droned on about the quadratic equation, reviewing everything the other kids in the class had surely forgotten over the summer. I hadn't really paid attention for most of the class, it was hard to see passed the overexcited Jewish kid's hair in front of me. He turned around periodically to stare at me and attempted some sort of flirting, giving me winks that looked more like he had something in his eye. The final time he turned to me, he leaned back on his chair. Santana took the opportunity and gave a forceful, unseen kick to the back chair leg, causing him to fly from the chair and onto the floor.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you staring is impolite, Jewfro?" She smirked as the boy pulled his glasses from the floor and his brows met in confusion. I turned to glance at Santana, and offered her an uneasy smile. She definitely had some fire to her.

"I got you," she mouthed to me silently with a small glint in her eye that I couldn't quite place. I nodded in return as the teacher tried to settle the class' laughter. As soon as everyone was quiet, however, the dismissal bell rang out.

We got up to leave, but my phone vibrated in my pocket. I looked to Santana and held up my finger, allowing myself a minute to enter into the busy halls full of kids trying to get to their next class. I slid my index finger over the lock screen and answered the call from a number I had affectionatelynamed 'Momma' in my contacts.

"Hello, Sweetie, I hope I'm not interrupting anything but I have some errands for you to run for me later." The woman greeted me with a falsely warm tone. How domestic, I thought. We had codes for things, and I knew I was finally going to learn more about my assignment.

"Sure thing, Momma." I called, equally as sweet, even dawning a small smile on my lips as I leaned my side against the wall.

"I'm sending you the grocery list right now."

I looked around to make sure there was no one else beside me and pulled my phone away, somewhat discreetly. The text loaded up on the screen and I blinked a few times, willing the image to go away.

"Make it quick, sweetheart. I'll see you tonight for dinner." I heard the click indicating that she had ended the call. My heart sank as I stared blankly at the screen with a picture of a beaming raven haired girl from a school photo.

Soon, my phone was a light with dozens of images as well as documents and information pertaining to her file. I scrolled down the screen with my fingertip and landed on the name of my target under the picture: SANTANA LOPEZ.

. . .

I knew something like this was bound to happen. It was the nature of my job and the very reason I allowed myself no attachments. However, somehow, seeing how she treated me so different from others made me feel uneasy about this hit. But it didn't matter, I had to go through with it. I had oaths, I had a family, or a lineage rather, to protect. More importantly, my reputation was at stake. I couldn't abandon my perfect record and be known for going soft.

I heard the familiar clang of heels and quickly put the phone back in my pocket. Santana came strolling up with the Mohawked boy I'd seen from the parking lot earlier not far behind her, following like a whipped puppy. She had a scowl on her face, that I could only imagine originated from the stalky football player. I turned to them and saw her nudge him away.

"Cut it out, Puckerman, you're barking up the wrong tree."

"Baby, you know how hungry the beast gets if he doesn't get a little action. Whatever happened to being my go to?" He flashed a cheesy grin at her, I figured this must have worked on most of the women here, I think he must have thought so too.

Santana's expression hardened as she fumbled with her locker combination. "I'm pretty sure any hopes you had of getting laid stopped when you knocked up the Celibacy Queen two years ago. Besides, the beast," she mocked him with a small smirk, "needs to get well acquainted with your good friend Jill." She held her smaller hand out to his larger right hand, counting each of the fingers in a pointed way.

Puck glanced my way and I shrugged, acting confused despite holding in a chuckle. His eyes glossed over with renewed determination as he made one large step towards me, placing a calloused hand by my head at the locker behind me. He leaned in and parted his lips to speak, a cocky eyebrow raised.

"Beat it, Puck." Santana warned him before he could even begin. She gave him a daring glare and pushed him away with a simple glance. He sighed in defeat and stalked away down the lesser crowded hall. I followed him with my eyes before focusing back on the aggravated girl beside me.

"Thanks," I offered simply, letting my gaze fall on her toned legs for a small moment.

I caught her lips pulling in a smile out of the corner of my eye and I couldn't help but return the gesture. "You hungry?" Something about the tone in her voice made me uneasy, it was alluring, sensual, and a little breathier than it should have been. Of course, I was probably over exaggerating. I was preoccupied thinking of all of the ways to silently carry out my objective. I still couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't talking about food.

Still, I played dumb and nodded bluntly with a toothy grin. "Starved," I stated with a nod for emphasis. There was a catch in my throat I was desperately trying to ignore as she bent over after carelessly dropping a few coins of, what I assumed was, her lunch money. I noticed her eyes shifting to the corner to catch a glimpse of my reaction.

I allowed my lips to curve into a satisfied smirk, letting her see every bit of it. Perhaps seduction would be the perfect way to eliminate her, after all.