I'm attempting to make this a twenty chaptered story. Attempting being the key word, and twenty chapters being the goal. Wish me good luck.

Disclaimer- As always, I own nothing besides my OC, Blake.

Covert Report
Operative Makoola eagerly awaited this day, for it was the day the new Kings would arrive. Before storming into the room to meet the Kings and acting unprofessionally, Operative Anderson made a quick move to stop her. He reminded her one final time that it was important to stick to the cover. Operative Makoola hushed the boy, threatening to murder him with a banana (don't ask).

The wind picked up almost immediately after I had walked back into the throne room. It blew my hair back and slapped me in the face. Hard. I quickly recovered from almost stumbling backwards and running into a wall by flipping my hair over my shoulders and smiling in what was supposed to be a flirty matter.

Most of the women back in the CIA were right; playing "Hot Girl" to mess with a suspect head is the best cover you could ever put up! I say this because when I re-entered the room, the boys' heads turned. They stared at me as if they've never seen a girl before.

If you want a physical explanation of these boys, well, you are not getting one. All you have to know was that they fit the given description that I had written a few pages back.

"This is thirty six inches of cold hard steel forged from the fires of Mt. Don't Touch My Daughter." My father threatened the two boys, waving his machete before their eyes.

And that was when I knew it was my cue.

"He's the reason why I had to go to prom with a zebra." I told them, scolding my dad for ruining my prom night. He shrugged and I turned back to the young men. "You must be the new Kings." I said, bowing.

"You bet we are!" The boy who sat on the throne exclaimed, and jumped out of his seat. "I'm Boomer." He said, even though I already knew his name and everything else there was to know about him. But I didn't say so. The dark skinned boy smiled dreamily at me.

"Mikayla." I tried not to be frightened of him. His brother, however, who sat on a tiny beach chair, somehow managed to fall right through it [and when I said it, I meant the chair].

"Sorry." He apologized quietly and scrambled to his feet.

Remember how I said that I wasn't going to give any physical description of these boys? Well, I felt like this boy deserved to be described. He had straight, black hair that was brushed off to the right side of his face. His eyes were a dark shade of brown (or, as I liked to call it, chocolate brown which will just melt your heart if you stare at it for so long!). He was fairly built though body type never bothered me. What he wore wasn't as important to me as his physical appearance-this boy was clearly attractive. End. Of. Discussion.

I slapped my forehead before realizing what I wrote. Maybe, he was messing with me because he knew what I wanted to acquire from him. Perhaps he caught onto the little game I was playing. Or he was just a normal teenage boy. When I conducted research on him, no criminal records popped up. But, the Director did warn us about how he could be the biggest threat because he was the smartest twin. Out of all the boys I could hit on, it had to be a suspect. Wonderful, isn't it? (Note the sarcasm.)

The aforementioned boy walked up to me. "I'm Brady. You'll have to excuse my brother and I's behavior; we usually don't act like this." The tone he took with me said that he was trying to act mature. But, the hint of laughter in his eyes stated otherwise.

"It's alright." I shook the temptation to run out of the room and scream my head off. Having this close contact with this boy became too much for me to handle. And I barely knew him. Well, of course I knew him, but I was supposed to act like I didn't.

Ugh. Being an undercover agent just made life difficult.

"So, are you two ready for the castle tour?"

"...And this is your bedroom; the highest and safest place in the castle." I said as we finally reached the Kings bedroom.

"It's beautiful." Brady said. His hand ran over the pool table. "Just like this…pool table. What's it made out of?"

With no doubt, he was flirting with me. I smiled and decided to joke around with him. "My dad made it." I explained. "..From the boys of bones who asked me out."

"Good to know." He nodded, fear evident in his eyes.

What happened next wasn't important because the two young men had met their cousin—who they mistaken of being a Hobbit. I wouldn't blame them. Their cousin was short for his age.

"I advise you get comfortable because tomorrow you will have a coronation." I spoke.

"A coronation?" Boomer wrinkled his nose. "Is that where you stuff your face with food?"

"No. It's when we officially crown you as Kings." I clarified.

What followed after this actually made me cry (well, almost). They had found a portrait of their parents on the wall beside their pool table. The two believed that their parents would be looking down at them, smiling proudly. But, Lanny ruined the moment. Oh, that heartless jerk. I sighed and shot the boy a look of disbelief. He replied by shrugging.

As I left, Brady had trailed after me. "Wait!"

"Yes?" I turned on my heels to face him. We stood all alone in the middle of the hallway, though it felt like a thousand eyes were staring at us—watching our every move and documenting every word we say.

Silence had filled the air. In another situation with a completely different person, silence would only lead to a game of combat. One of us would have to throw a punch and the other one would block the blow. But I had to remember that I wasn't in training. And that I wasn't facing a drug dealer of some sort. I was on Kinkow. And I was on a mission.

"So, what's your occupation?" He said finally.

Was I to tell him that I work for the CIA? That I have spent the past two years hunting down criminals and kicking their butts? It would be a great conversation to strike up, if I wanted him to be under the wrong impression. So, I just did what I was told to. I lied.

"If you'd like to know, I'm the head guard of the castle." Well, sort of. I was, after all, preparing to become a guard before working in the CIA. (And I'm not just saying that because it's my cover.)

"For how long?" He sounded fascinated.

"I have actually been training since I was six, but I didn't officially become a palace guard until I was fifteen." The boy nodded, motioning for me to continue. And that was when I an idea struck me.

"Since you insist on knowing more about me," I said flirtatiously, causing him to direct his attention to the floor. "Meet me down in the plaza in an hour."

"O-Okay." He stammered. His cheeks grew red like a fire hydrant, making me believe that he had never been in this situation before. Brady turned and re-entered his room, probably rushing off to tell his brother.

I smiled haughtily to myself. I had gained the suspects trust. Boy was this mission a piece of cake.