Zach's cross my heart and hope they aren't girls Gallagher Girls fanfiction
There's not much room in this world for kids whose parents have put a hit on themselves. Especially when one is told to "learn to blend in and never stand out", or to "always lie". When this is coming from your mother's mouth and you are just five years old you can either A, disobey and cause her to look at you as though you are nothing more than a burden, or B. obey and simply make her happy. I guess the hardest part of being a wanted person's son is just that. Most people of the world do not know this though. She's not on the news or FBI's most wanted, no only a few know that she is wanted. But that is more people than as a kid you can live comfortably with.
Though these people who do want her are very far and in between it becomes suffocating. My peers believe it s simple if I want away from all of it, then why don't I become a normal civilian? All I would have to do is change my name. One look at me and even the most trained member wouldn't know I was Catherine Goode's son. Or even the last remaining member or the circle.
"Member" is sort of a strong word. I guess, "descendent" or "affiliated with" is better. So I could be a civilian, it would be easy, but that's the problem. "Easy" is not fun. "Easy" means doing a boring desk job and getting simple thrills out of life. Now, I'm addicted to the adrenaline you get from being in sticky situations, where your heart is pounding and it's all you can think about but in your hands lies a bomb that you either diffuse now, or die later from third degree burns.
Besides the adrenaline I have come too close to my friends/acquaintances from my school Blackthorne Academy. I use the term "friends" lightly because through the years my mom, though absent most of my childhood has taught me to, "trust no one".
***3 months later*
Blackthorne needs to stop with the boring mundane, military tactics. We are taught to kill, assassin, is the exact word, but it's time to do actual field work. Luckily, I have talked to Dr. Steve into talking with the man who has practically raised me: Joe Solmon.
Joe and I do not look alike but that man has practically adopted me and taught me the ins and outs of being a spy. When my mom went rogue he was the one there. At age 12 it was Solmon and I practicing brush passes at a zoo with men from MI6. He was even the one who told me about the Circle and the fact that I was member whether I wanted to be or not. He was my enforcer, my provider, and my voice of reason.
Dr. Steve walks in the class with a pensive look on his face. Disrupting my internal thoughts.
"Okay lads, today is going to be an interesting one. You are all well aware of what the female gender is obviously. I have seen the sites you have in your history, ahem, Grant. Anyways, today is a day I think that is much needed. Our class will be trying to become friends and distract the targets. We are trying to keep them from their mission. Their mission I have been told is to find a ruby slipper attraction at the Smithsonian in DC. In the car you will be debriefed of who exactly it is you are looking for."
Jonas, all scraggly hair and thick black- rimmed glasses raises his hand anxiously awaiting, "will we be given false identities sir?"
Dr. Steve, who always has had a soft spot for Jonas, replies, "no, not today. Today lads you will just have to be you. Or at least the you you are supposed to be, because teenage assasins doesn't really pick up girls or sound appealing by any means to the average citizen." With a clap of his hands, we knew this was the conclusion. "Farewell gentlemen, I hope…" Then it went black. Blackthorne tends to do things in a dramatic manor.
As I awake I have the strangest feeling that I am being watched. Of course to no surprise, as I open my eyes I find several pairs stalking me. "There you are Zac Efron! Time to wake up sleeping beauty!" Grant's nickname for me, is Zac Efron ever since a girl mistook me on an operation we did in California, only to be disappointed when she came closer.
Next thing I know Grant has just slapped me in the arm, and a slap from Grant, aka a Hercules twin, it's more of a small truck slamming into you when they forget to check for pedestrians.
"Alright, everyone!" Nick, blonde hair, blue eyes, perfect prep boy model cover is barking orders as usual. He opens the envelope in his hand. "It says, 'in here are the targets, and to not be fooled'". After he reads the letter he grabs a handful of pictures; each one of a girl relatively close in age as the lot of us.
"Is this a joke?" Grant growls. "Are we really looking for girls, specifically teenage girls? Maybe these are their old photos and now we have to figure out what these operatives look like."
Most of the guys nodded in agreement, but I can't shake the feeling that there is something more to this than just teenage girls. All Joe said was, "You want an assignment that will make you think huh? Something that will make your life a little more interesting?"
Nick who looks just as shocked as the rest of us just shakes his head and mutters something in farsi. "Well boys, let's have some fun with this right? It's not everyday that our mission is to follow girls, and more importantly, attractive ones such as these. I will put all of the pictures in my hat and everyone just grab one, study it for five minutes and then we are out."