Hello! This is my second fanfic. I hope you all like it so far. At least five reviews before I update. I do not own the Divergent Trilogy nor do I own the characters. Veronica Roth does. :D
Tris POV
I walk through the big glass doors into the lobby of the building. I look around at all of the desks and offices. Down in the middle of floor rests the CIA logo. It excites me walking in here every day. To my job, where I belong. I head over to the elevator and up to the 6th floor where my office is. The door opens and I walk down the bright hall, people smile at me as I pass. This happens a lot considering that I am the best female field agent in the CIA. It took a lot of work to get where I am today. Over twenty undercover missions, thirty one secret investigations and approximately three thousand - two hundred twenty two hours of training.
I walk through the door into my office and find a note lying on my desk.
Agent Prior, please meet me in the main HQ board room at 1300 hours.
Director Hansen
Why would the Director need to see me? Nothing unusual has been happening lately…. 8.7 seconds after I put down the note I hear a knock on the door.
"Come in," I call. The door opens and a delivery man walks through the door. He smiles and places a white package on my desk. I thank him and close the door. I return to the package sitting on my desk. The label is addressed to me from my aunt Elizabeth. Why would she be sending me a package? I open it to find several photo frames, each with a picture. I study them closely, the first is a family photo of my mother, father, brother and I. We are all sitting in the grass under a tree and smiling. The next of me when I was six at my birthday party. My mother stands behind me as I blow out the candles on my cake. She's smiling. The last photo frame holds a picture of my brother and I, he's hugging me. We must've been about nine. I set the pictures down with an expressionless look on my face. My family is dead.
They died almost six years ago in a fire. I was out at my gymnastics lesson while they stayed at home. I returned to find the house engulfed in flames and a dozen police cars, fire trucks and ambulances surrounding it. After I found out that the rest of my family was dead I got sent to Family and Children's Services where I eventually got taken in by my aunt and uncle. I moved in with them in their house, somewhere in North Carolina.
I spent months wondering what had started the fire . I never once cried about it because I knew that crying wouldn't solve anything. I asked the firefighters who had stopped the fire what had caused it and they found the source unknown. My aunt and uncle became curious as to what the source of the fire had been so they hired a private investigator who later found out that my parents had been targets. I was so confused. My parents were kind people. They meant the most to me. But the look on my aunt's face said it all. She knew exactly what was going on. No matter how much I asked or begged, she would never tell me . It was until the morning of my twelfth birthday that I found out the truth.
It was no accident that caused the fire. It was a Russian spy from Moscow who had come to seek revenge on my parents. I asked my aunt why on earth a Russian spy would want revenge on my parents. Being the clueless twelve year old I was. Her answer was simple:
" They were spies."