If I were a best-selling author, why would I spend time on fanfiction…? The Gallagher Girls belong to someone who actually has a life (the wondrous Ally Carter) and this fic belongs to someone who doesn't (cough-me-cough).
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I had scaled the mountains, arriving from the eastern passes. It was the easiest way to approach the school. There were plenty of more covert ways to get to Blackthorne, but what I needed was speed. Thirty minutes were spent hiking through the highlands before I had gotten close to the school. After finally escaping the mountains, I was on Blackthorne property.
No guards were patrolling the grounds, so I easily sprinted across the grass and around the main part of the school. Behind the larger building were the dorms. But we all called them the "barracks". Twenty rooms in each barrack. Six cots in each room. Three dressers. One closet. All clothes folded with creases, all trash in the bin. No messes were to be made, no traces to be left. Rules regarding cleanliness were king here. Attendance rules were not quite as enforced, but there were strict punishments if caught. They only care if you mess it up. They've "trained you to do better."
So I hurried, creeping along the brick walls of the living quarters. Counting three windows from the west wing, I remained aware, should any students or teachers be lurking about like I was. Tugging on the window, it finally gave way and opened soundlessly. I pressed my sneakers against the bricks and hoisted my waist over the edge. My body was pulled through the window and I tumbled into the room. When I hit the ground, a soft thud echoed off the walls and I winced. I should've landed better, as to not wake my roommates. But it didn't matter: they were still awake. "Well, good morning sunshine. Enjoying the weather?"
Grant was sitting on the bed opposite the window, tinkering with a handgun. The pistol was being disassembled, each piece set onto his pillow. He leaned against the wall, not even meeting my eye. Jonas's bed was on the far side of the room, right next to the door. He was fast asleep and his snoring filled the room. Bright light from his computer illuminated his contorted expression. The three other boys in our room hardly gave me a second glance. Harry was reading a German copy of The Art of War, Ethan was in the same state as Jonas (out cold and snoring like a bear) and Jay was on the floor doing curl ups.
Finally Grant looked at me. "1:02 is little late, don't you think?" Harry closed his book as Grant continued talking and disassembling the weapon at the same time. "I'm done covering for you. You can catch up on all your classes and assignments without me. Next time you're gone, I'm not saying your name in roll call." He had all the parts to the gun evenly spaced on his pillow. He looked down to them and picked up the main part. Within the next few seconds, he had clicked all the pieces together and had snapped the magazine into place. "Artillery and Ammunitions Final is tomorrow. We have to do it blindfolded, too."
He tossed the gun to Harry, who caught it with ease. The pistol was placed under his thin mattress. "Close the goddamn window already. I'm freezing my ass off." I turned and pulled it shut, effectively stopping the draft.
"So what else happened today?" I slipped off my jacket and pushed my shoes under my bed.
"Other than the fact that you missed yet another sparring tournament: nothing." Jay stood and stretched. "I won, in case you were wondering. Grant had a sock to the jaw in round one from Dominic and was out cold. Hilarious." He snorted, as if it wasn't hilarious at all. He fell back onto his cot and tucked his toes under the footboard. "Grant wanted to make sure you weren't ditching again. But now I can sleep." Jay pulled his pillow over his head and turned onto one side.
"I'm done for tonight, too." Harry's book was put away and he had curled under his covers. "Turn off the light, Zach." Grant glared at me. Later, I mouthed. I reached for the switch by the door, closing Jonas's laptop on my way. Within seconds I was shrouded in darkness.
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I'll tell you the absolute worst thing about living in a detention facility: the wake up calls. At precisely 5:45 am, a trumpet blared over the speakers located in each room. After that, we have forty minutes to shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, and get to our first classes. So as soon as I heard the four obnoxious notes, I shot out of bed and reached for the nearest dresser. I pulled out the hideous yellow pants and matching shirt. I put on the pants and slipped the shirt over my white t-shirt, not bothering with the buttons. Slipping out the door, I saw the rest of the guys heading towards the bathrooms. I pressed my nose to my shoulder. I could do without for today.
Following the small crowd of boys out of the doors toward the mess hall, Grant had caught up to me. "Actually going to class, today?"
"Yeah. I'd hate to miss that exam in A&A." I rolled my eyes. Exams in that class were always the same. Can you hit a target at 100 yards? 200? How about 500? Oh, now we're taking your scope. Put together this pistol. Now do it blindfolded. This rifle? Easy. The real challenge was when Mr. Marshalls made half the class run and the other half shoot at targets on the track.
"You might be behind in CoveOps." Grant hesitated, "Or maybe not, Mr. Already-Recruited-And-Sent-On-Missions." He shoved ahead of me as we entered the mess hall. He took a tray from the kitchen's serving window and piled it high with waffles. I helped myself to several of the dark grainy waffles. Not the most pleasant meal, but they were about as good as it got here. Cammie would be disappointed.
As stupid and mushy as it sounded, I missed her. I missed her a lot. Her shy smile, her snarky comebacks, and even her calling me "Blackthorne Boy". I missed having someone next to me that didn't see a murderer. That'd be nice.
It was too bad that the Circle of Cavan was out to get her.
I had a haunting feeling that only a few things would be going through my mind in the near future: Cammie and Cavan. Cammie's safety and the Circle's plans.
Sadly, I could do nothing about either as of now. So I choked down the pathetic excuse for waffles and headed to my first class of the day: CoveOps.
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"Gentlemen, today's lesson will be quite simple. What is a cut-out?" Mr. Hale called out from his desk. His feet were propped up and he was leaning backwards, tipping his chair. He was reminiscent of Mr. Solomon, but a deadlier version, if that was possible. One major difference was what they fought for: Solomon was on the right team, and Hale was the opposition. The not-so-nice team. Mr. Hale scanned the class with his conniving gaze, until it fell on me. "Goode, I haven't seen you in a while. Cut-out. Define it and tell me the pros and cons."
Of course Grant couldn't fool the all-incredible Lawrence Hale. My CoveOps instructor was well aware of my absence, but didn't care. Grant may have duped the others (most likely not), but nothing slipped past Mr. Hale. Nothing. "A cut-out is used to deliver items or information securely. Or, it's an agent who acts as an in-between for other agents. It makes it easier to relay information without serious danger and it keeps permanent locations unknown to different parties."
"And the cons?" Mr. Hale pulled his feet off the desk and shuffled beneath his desk. While doing so, I continued. "Problems could occur on either side before the meeting or drop-off. Too many people, too many opportunities to be caught. Backstabbing. Traitors. Misinformation."
He nodded. He already knew that, and so did we. So that means there's a catch to today's lesson. The cardboard box he pulled from under his desk proved my theory. Mr. Hale shook it like it was a Christmas present, and smirked devilishly. A small metal sphere was pulled out, and he tossed it into the air. When he caught it, he looked to his awaiting students.
A grenade. "You boys will need to drop some things off for me. I have a cut-out in the eastern forest, waiting for these. Also, I'm gonna need some information." Mr. Hale tossed the grenade to Jonas in the front row. Flinching, my friend caught it and gave a scrutinizing stare. He set it onto his desk and pushed it into the corner, away from him. Jonas was much more of an "I'll sit over here" kind of guy. Weapons weren't his thing. Mr. Hale chuckled. "Merely smoke grenades. But I wouldn't recommend pulling the pin." He continued tossing the weapons around. When I caught mine, I felt the cool, bumpy metal in my palm. It was painted green, but the paint was chipping. I turned it over in my hands, and the fact that they weren't the real thing hardly calmed my nerves. "Each of you is to deliver one. The first to my cut-out will retrieve information and report to me. Extra jobs to those who don't drop off the cargo and extra laps around the track for the boys who don't get there fast enough for my info. Got it?" We all nodded and pocketed the small items and looked to the teacher for more instructions. "What are you waiting for? Go!"
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I walked through the same woods that I had been in just hours before. Even though I knew every tree root and rock by heart, it was good to know that I could see them. I had a serious advantage over the other guys, because I knew where to find the only definite location within the East woods that could accompany a cut-out. The cabin from last night.
Wanting to get this over with, I jogged around the thick trunks and headed directly toward the shack. I was careful not to jostle the small grenade. Pulling the pin would end in a fiasco, regardless of their state of realness. Tightly holding onto it, I made sure it wouldn't drop. I could've put in my pocket, but it falling out and vanishing wouldn't help either. After a few minutes of running, I saw the small wooden structure.
I sprinted up the hill and peeked into the window. Examining the room in the light, I noticed no danger. Mr. Hale was known for having surprises in the middle of exercises, so precaution was required. With a creak, the door slowly opened and I looked around the small room. Did I get the location wrong?
"Zachary! What a surprise!" A man from last night placed a hand on my shoulder and I twisted around in alarm. I backed away as he started to laugh. "Do you not remember me?" I shook my head. I was too nervous to retain names last night. "Almahdi. Almahdi Rahamin. I'm your mother's friend from way back." He held out his hand and I hesitantly shook it. My left hand was hidden behind my back, squeezing the metal object, making my palms go clammy.
I turned it over, feeling it roll. Almahdi let go of my hand and leaned onto the table. "So, is it safe to assume you're the cut-out?"
"Whaddya got for me?" Rubbing his hands together with a cheeky grin that should only be seen on a toddler, he looked at me expectantly. I extended my arm reluctantly, allowing him to take the small grenade. Throwing it upward and catching it like Mr. Hale did, it he said, "Only one? Hale promised more."
"The others have them. Aren't you the cut-out?" I pushed back my doubt from becoming obvious. If he wasn't the one who was supposed to obtain them, then I was in trouble. He shrugged as I watched him place it into a metal box and turn back to me.
"Not really. Lawrence promised me twenty-four military-grade, steel, time-delay grenades. I thought I would get them all at once instead of turning it into homework." He made a tsking sound as he looked over my shoulder, presumably out the window, searching for the other guys. And the rest of his grenades.
"But they're just smoke grenades."
A small laugh escaped his lips, and I thought that he was overly happy about all the wrong things. "No. They're not." He raised an eyebrow at me. "If you're so confident in whatever Lawrence told you, I invite you to pull the pin." I looked to the metal box that had been clamped shut.
"No thanks." He chuckled lightly. Such a cheery man in a dreary profession. "Am I allowed to ask what they're for?"
He smirked. "Curious, are you?" He shook his head in disbelief. "If you had listened last night, then you would've known that they're for Azerbaijan. We're aiming for the twenty-first. I would invite you, but I don't think you're quite ready for something of that magnitude just yet." He stopped to ponder something. He scratched his chin, thinking. "It's not approved, but do you want to come down to Boston tomorrow? We're doing something minor, and it'll help you out. In fact, your mission might be over with by the time the sun goes down tomorrow. What do you say?"
I stared at him. My mission would be done? "Um, no thanks. I've missed a lot of classes as it is…"
"Academics. Prioritizing is important. Oh well, you'd be observing anyhow. Your loss." He looked over his shoulder as the door banged open. There stood a very winded Jay.
"Damn it! I wanted to be first!"
I turned to Almahdi. "Tell Lawrence it's the twenty-first." I nodded and left, socking Jay's shoulder as I passed him. As I stepped outside into the cool breeze, I thought about his words. My mission would be finished. That just screams trouble. I don't know what Mr. Hale had in store for us tomorrow, but I had bigger plans: Boston.
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I'm sorry for having the story start off slowly… It'll pick up soon ;) So, random notes about this chapter: The roomates' names were originally Harry, Louis, and Liam. Unintentionally One Direction. I had a random name generator create Zach's teacher's name. Lawrence Hale popped up, and I was excited. He's not related to the Hales in Heist Society, so don't get confused. :) Also, according to Google, Almahdi's name means "rightly guided" and "mercy, compassion". I love irony. :)
A big thanks to these fantabulous people:
Smirk and Walk Away (who can't seem to decide on a pen-name ;) , cheeky-monkey-hehehe, XxCandyygirlxX, Wendy Peirce, LoveZammie4Ever, GallagherGirls13BYE, and Sophia (guest).
To Sophia… and everyone else too: I have this story planned out. (Mostly) My outline for this story is currently 1,300 words. So I do believe I have a grasp on what this story's gonna be. ;) But I appreciate you taking the time to review! That sounds like an interesting scene, but not for here. Also, I'm trying to stay as canon as possible… this being Zach's side of the story and all… But thanks anyway!
So, rambly A/N again.., Sorry! Leave a review and tell me what you think!
FYI, updates will be fairly irregular until I have more written. But I'm still online a lot, so don't be shy!
