Disclaimer: I don't own the Gallagher Girls
Hi! I'm ~diva~ This is only my second fanfic so please be polite, I love constructive criticism-please express it kindly and no flames please (:
For all of those who've read my story What Happens When You Fall Hard this is in no way relates to it, it is a completely different story and plot line. I may refer to some OC's that were in WHWYFH but other than that, nothing's the same
Hope You Like It~
Summary: When you think of Zach Goode, you'd think of the following: Handsome, Clever, Witty, Cocky, and the top Blackthorne Boy, right? Yes you're right, he is all those things. But what about a 19 year-old Zach Goode who just claimed his rightful place in the CIA. What about a Zach Goode who was exiled from his very own family? What about a Zach Goode that's heard of The Gallagher Academy For Exceptional Young Women but never of a certain Chameleon. So…What do you have then?
Chapter One: Missions
"One simple decision changed a lot, leading to another more important decision I had to make and even then it leads to something else. But what I really want to know is whether if I liked that change. I still don't know." - Zachary Goode
Location: Office Room 127, CIA Base 11
Washington D.C., MD
Date: Saturday, July 13th Time: 3:42 p.m.
P.O.V: Zachary "The Shadow" Goode
Paperwork-I've always hated it and probably will until the day I die. I still couldn't see how Jonas could put up with it.
Don't get me wrong, paperwork has its advantages in its own way. You can't die from it [unless it's from boredom] the worst you could get would be a paper cut from a report. But field work was another story.
I've only been on four missions in my new career, and it wasn't anything major, they were all just Level D and E missions.
We have a simple system that categorizes the assignments agents are given. There were six different levels of missions. A, B, C, D, E, and the most dangerous: Black Out.
All the vital and most serious missions that included going to a different country were classified as Level A or Black Out.
Ones that were quite difficult and usually included some assistants from the NSA to help and were in the U.S. were Level B or C.
Ones that are so simple that a cop could figure it were Level D and E.
I longed for the adrenaline rush of a mission, but of course, being a 19-year old newbie didn't help my chances of being chosen for an assignment.
Unlike the older pro agents, unlike someone that's named Abigail Cameron. The green-eyed, brunette was being flung from country to country to disable a bomb or something of that nature.
Though rumor had it that the only reason she even accepted those Level A's was because of something troubling that concerned her family. That's possibly the only similarity between us, we both had family issues.
Both my mom and dad had went MIA when I was nine, of course being the oblivious kid I was, I still had hope that they were still alive. Yeah, right. Their bodies and whereabouts were still unknown to me.
They were CIA agents too, I wasn't allowed to know what happened to them since I didn't have much clearance. A reason why I was here today, to find out what sent them off to their deaths.
I was shipped off to one relative to another after news had spread about the missing couple of Brian and Amy Goode.
I couldn't remember one relative that kept me for more than two months before I was taken in by a busy but generous agent that worked with my parents a lot. But it wasn't long before he went MIA also. His name still escapes my mind now but I remember of being close to him.
It was like a tragic tale of Romeo and Juliet but except in this story, Romeo knocks up Juliet with a son and their deaths are a little later in the play. Yeah, so romantic.
Maybe it was the fact that both sides of my family were opposed to my father and my mother marrying and I was the result of something they hated so much.
Maybe it was the fact I had such a bad attitude and got in so much trouble that they didn't want me in their lives.
Maybe it was the fact that I was so distant and icy to everyone that tried to help me.
There were a lot of reasons why they didn't want me in their lives, but I can't muster up enough interest to care. The past is the past, and I'm only stepping forward, or at least that's what I keep telling myself.
"Zach, get out here," a British accented voice calls, a barrage of a fist hitting my office door follows.
I look up from the stack of papers on my gray-metal desk. And at the rock hard door across the beige colored tiles. It opens to show Bex Baxter-the girlfriend of my best friend.
"What do you want Baxter?" I question the brunette in front of me, annoyed already. She just simply crosses her arms in front of her pneumatic chest and cocks a thin eyebrow at me.
"What's got your Alans in a bunch?" she quips.
"Alans?" I ask, but change my mind. Why should I even bother learning British slang anyways? I think, "Whatever, why are you here?"
She smiles, but I could see that it was a bit sour.
"Director Jordan wants to see you. ASAP," she says.
The bitter smile still on her exotic face, I feel a smirk pull at my lips. My green eyes met her milky caramel ones.
"A mission? I knew I'd get one soon," I boast, the result of that was having the Briton narrowing her eyes at me.
"Don't get cocky, Goode. There's no guarantee that Mr. Anthony wants to see you for a mission. Now get off your lazy ass and get to his office before I bloody kick it," Bex threatens.
Her hands brought together to crack her knuckles.
"Ah…you're no fun, Rebecca. And don't be jealous that I get the mission before you, it was to be expected," I mock, using her full name; which was a bad idea because a fist immediately flew and almost hit my face. Almost.
I slip out from the side before she could get another shot. And with an exasperated Londonite in my office, I quickly made my way towards Director Anthony M. Jordan and possibly a new mission.
Location: Director's Office, CIA Base 11
Washington D.C., MD
Date: Saturday, July 13th Time: 4:01 p.m.
P.O.V: Zachary "The Shadow" Goode
"Hello, Mr. Goode." Mr. Jordan greets.
He was a tall man with brunette hair that held slivers of silver in it, he has hazel eyes that pulled between brown and green and had a healthy tan. And with his gray suit it definitely fulfills the I'm-your-boss look.
"Hello, sir." I reply as I sat down in the chair in front of his desk.
His office was definitely larger than mine. The big windows were shaded, letting patterned lines of light to show on the floor.
"Mr. Goode, I am one who gets to the point of things. And I'd like you to go on a Level-B mission," after hearing that the room falls into silence.
Different thoughts were racing in my head. Level B. A Level B mission. I could get so many clearance points for just that mission, I think. I could get a Level 6 clearance. An annoying whisper chills my thoughts though, You'll need a Level 9 to even know what the name of the mission was.
An image of my mother and father grazes through my head, the answer of what really happened to them would be closer. And then eventually solved. One of the main reasons I even choice the CIA was to do that.
"You know, Mr. Goode if you wish not to get involved with this mission-" he starts, but I don't let him finish.
"No, sir. I accept the assignment," I declare strongly, there was a hint of a smile on his face as he nods.
The Director holds up a manila folder I hadn't realized he'd been gripping and slides it across the desk to me. My hand reaches out automatically and took the file of information.
"Very well then, assuming that it's you, Mr. Goode I don't believe I must go over most of the material with you," Director Jordan says. I met his gaze and gave a lopsided smile. He continued though,
"In this mission though, I have to tell you that you have many different options to choose from. When you read the file, you'll understand. But you must inform me of those decisions before you make them. Is that understood?" he instructs. I nod solemnly.
"Thank you, sir." He nods and motions towards the door with his hand, a sign clearer than glass that screamed, "get out."
With the manila folder clutched in my hand, I stalked out of the room quickly towards my office. My eys shining and a strange edge to my steps.
Location: Room 257, Freeman Apartments
Washington D.C., MD
Date: Saturday, July 13th Time: 7:38 p.m.
P.O.V: Zachary "The Shadow" Goode
Aliases, pseudonyms, fake ID's, covers-legends in general. That's what I was memorizing at the moment.
When the Director said I had options, he definitely meant it. I had the choices of names, location of where I could be stationed, and the personality of my cover and even a bit of my legend's past.
I let out a tired sigh and run my hand through my hair, making it even more ruffled than it had been before.
My white dress shirt wasn't even buttoned anymore; showing a muscle-tight white wife-beater, with my red tie hanging undone and careless around my neck. I stretch out my muscular arms and lie down on my unmade bed. The second I would have been swept away into blissful sleep my phone rings.
"Hello?" I say. Before the person on the other end could answer I could already tell who it was. Grant. The background was filled with dance music and loud voices.
"What's up, man. I heard you got a mission," Grant replies, from as much as I could tell he probably was near the bar for too long. I smirk.
"Yeah, it's a B," I brag. There was a silence on the other end.
"Zach," his voice suddenly sober and serious, "Be careful,"
"I know what I'm doing, Grant," I reassure him, but that nagging voice in the back of my head brings forth dark shadows of doubt. Looking for a desperate attempt to get off the topic I ask where he was.
"The Rebellion you know that place down from Starbucks?" he informs me. I didn't need to be standing next to him to know that he was grinning like mad, that was his favorite night club.
"Yeah, I know. You never shut up about it. Man, how drunk are you? You're gonna get beaten shitless by Bex when she-" but my warning is cut off from a distinct British voice.
"Shut it, Goode! And don't you dare give me that bloody smirk over the phone," I laugh at her outburst, the smirk still on my face. The volume of the music had gone even louder, the vibrations of it coming out of my phone and in my ear.
"Hey Zach! You know you can come over here for a bit, like a good luck party before you go," Grant shouts over the pulsing of the dance music. But an afterthought seems to hit him, "Oh. Maybe you shouldn't, there are like nine of your ex's here," he said. And I knew that he wasn't exaggerating.
I thought about that. Yeah, it's true I went through a lot of girls, a lot of girls fast. Faster than Grant and his sports cars and more than Macey goes shopping. But not for the reason you may be thinking-the perverted reason.
I guess the pathetic way of putting it is, that I just want a girlfriend, that too hard to comprehend? I mean when your best friends are all couples, you'd feel a little bit left out. Especially if they all simultaneously start making out.
When we first met the girls, the chemistry hit almost instantly. Shy, smart, and pixie-like Liz Sutton had gotten Smart, care-free and lanky Jonas.
Then of course, being the "Myth" couple, the Egyptian Goddess Bex started on the Greek God Grant. So leaving only Macey and I left, we tried going out. We crashed and burned before the salad had even arrived [the girl only eats 800 calories a day for god's sake!]-and that's putting it lightly.
Things That Macey "The Peacock" McHenry and Zachary "The Shadow" Goode Hated About Each Other
- A List Made by: Zachary Goode -
1. Macey McHenry thinks that I am too mysterious and complicated to figure out .
2. I think that Macey McHenry complains too much.
3. Macey McHenry thinks that my smirk was far too annoying.
4. I think that Macey's personality was far too annoying.
5. Macey McHenry thinks that I dressed too casual to match the restaurant's status.
6. I think that Macey McHenry was too prepped-up.
7. Macey McHenry barely ate from her dinner [again, 800 calories per day]
8. I love a girl that's not afraid to show her appetite.
9. Macey McHenry thinks of me as a nice friend.
10. The feeling was mutual.
…Really the list was endless.
"Zach? You still there?" I broke out of my thoughts and felt my automatic walls go back up again.
"I'll be there," I say simply.
"You sure? You know, if you really don't want to, you don't have to." he said. I nod when I realize that he couldn't see me.
"I'll be there" I repeat. And with the conversation ended, I grab a white button up shirt with a black shirt that showed off my rock hard chest and abs, leaving the buttons undone. My long legs are covered with dark denim jeans that hang loosely around my hips. I run a comb through my dark messy hair but give up almost immediately on it, leaving it wavy and disheveled.
As I start my black Viper all I think is, what's the worst that can come from a few shots in a club?
I should've never asked.
"The beginning's harsh but don't be a bloody wimp and get through,"
- Rebecca Baxter
Keep or Delete? Because I'm not gonna continue this if I don't get reviews.
Yeah, it's boring I know -_- but I promise that it'll get exciting~
Yeah, I made it that Zach and Macey dated
Favorite Line/Part?
Nope, he's never met Cammie.
Yep, the name of the club was lame. IF YOU HAVE ANY SUGGESTIONS FOR THE CLUB'S NAME SAY SO IN YOUR REVIEW PLEASE! YOU WILL GET CREDIT~!
For those of you who read What Happens When You Fall Hard. Yeah, I put Dana's dad in here, I just thought I'd show you what Anthony was like.
No flames, constructive criticism deserves a round of applause, and questions are welcome if you're confused.
Please Review or I won't know if you want me to continue this or not~
ALL REVIEWERS GET A SNEAK PEAK!
~A Lazy Diva~