A/N: Hi guys, It's me.

I'm so sorry about the wait – but I have been the victim of writers block. I was stuck at a crossroad in the story. Go one way, or the other? Ten or so weeks later still no difference. Last week I plotted out the way both roads could go and I went with the one that best interests the story. So, here's the chapter that I settled on.

I hope you like it!

Chapter 22: Making My Way In The World

Cammie POV

I waited patiently as my precious time ticked away. Eventually I heard them leave and I was left to the pounding of heart and my steady breathing. I peered out from behind my tree and scanned the ground in front of me. I took a deep breath and sprinted the last fifty metres in the open.

I passed through the gates and kept running, putting as much distance between me and the guards. I could see the outline of the two towers in the distance as the moon reflected the Gallagher Academy as something eerily unhuman.

I spread my arms out wide, feeling like a bird, flying, as I experience freedom.

Roseville was a different place entirely. The streets where dark, the only light cast from the full moon and the street lights placed at intervals along the main road. I'd only ever been in Roseville when it was light and people around to see me (or not see me, since I'm the Chameleon). But tonight something was different. It was almost too quiet.

A shiver ran up my spin as I imagined all the movies Bex and Macey had made me sit through where the main characters are entering the haunted house where their best friend had been murdered by the psychotic axe wielding murder and the formerly stated axe-wielding mass murder tries to kill them. It's quiet as they enter the house and search the lower floor. They go upstairs and see the master bedroom door with scratched all along the front. The bravest girl (with her crush/boyfriend/guy-who-likes-her) she pushes the door open and it doesn't even creak. They enter the room and BAM! Murder jumps out.

I tried to stay as close to the lights as possible but staying as much in the shadows as I could. I needed to be invisible, now more than ever before. One false move could lead to being grounded or expelled by my mother, Rachel Morgan Head mistress of Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women. Or the Circle of Cavan would capture me before I had time to find out what they wanted with me.

From Bex's information, the Circle's Base of operations was somewhere on the Canadian/Montana border. I'd plotted a course and even pre-booked tickets for the appropriate buses, trains, planes – whatever could get me there the fastest. I was also trying to stay as Chameleon-like as possible and not bring any unwanted attention to myself. It wasn't going to be easy, but the conversation with Bex kept playing in my mind. She'd been so out of it. She hadn't flinched or cried. She was strong. But I'd stayed by her side when she had had the nightmares.

The grand father clock had just announced that it was two in the morning. I had been drifting in and out of consciousness since ten. But I would wake up an hour later to Bex thrashing in bed, sheets tangled around her like snakes constricting their prey. I would attempt to settle her down, it would work until the grandfather clock announced the next hour. Then it would begin again. She hadn't cried out once, but her face would contort with pain and fear. It made my stomach churn just thinking about what they had done to make Rebecca Baxter fear them, even in sleep. I wanted to see her cry, just so I would know that she was still the Bex that had told me we would be friends forever before I had even known her name.

It started as soon as the last chime had echoed in the abandoned room. Bex started thrashing against the sheets. Her body convulsed just like if she had been shocked. I knelt by her bed and pressed a cold-compress against her feverish forehead and shushed her, like my mother used to do when I had just had a nightmare. This time, it didn't work. Another spasm rocked her body, this one worse than all the others.

Her breathing was laboured and coming in quick bursts. Tears had left silvery trails down her flushed checks, reminding me of a snails in sunlight. Her mouth open and she let out a cry of pain. It was a first, I'd always been able to wake her or calm her down before now. My hands shook as I carefully and gently mover some hair out of her face, making soothing sounds. She jerked away from my touch violently and grinded her teeth together. My hand was frozen over thin air.

She let out another cry of pain and her head jerked like someone had punched her in the jaw. She wasn't dreaming- she was reliving her days with the Circle in her prison. Her breathing was laboured and she was in cold sweat. I didn't know what to do. All the stories about waking the sleepwalker flooded into my head in a massive tidal wave.

"I won't tell you anything!" She screamed. I looked around, hoping that someone had heard her and come and help. No one came. I didn't want to leave her alone in case something happened, but I needed outside help. Please someone come!

Her head jerked again, this time towards me. Her face was a mask of pain and fright. I needed to do something, but what? She jerked froward, just the way she would if someone had punched her in the stomach. Her breath came out past her teeth in a hiss of pain.

"Never," she hissed at me.

"Bex, you need to wake up! It's only a dream Bex – I'm here, Cammie is here!" I was lying. It wasn't a dream. Not to her, anyway. "Please Bex!" She screamed out suddenly and cradled her broken arm to her chest. They had just 'broken' her arm. I was scared now. Who wouldn't be when their best friend was like Bex was?

"I won't tell you anything! I'm a Gallagher Girl! Cammie is my sister! I took the oath! You'll have to kill me first!" Bex whispered. I heard footsteps behind me. I spun around and launched myself towards Mr. Solomon and mum.

"Help her, please," I whispered.

They had had to give Bex a pretty decent sleeping drug and she hadn't stirred again all night. And she'd slept without dreams. It had been torture to watch her suffer. But now, I was going to even the score – The Circle of Cavan wouldn't know what hit them.

I shifted my messenger bag around into a more comfortable position onto my shoulder and pulled out the black hoodie I'd hastily thrown in when I had been packing. Shrugging out of my trench, I pulled don the hoodie and zipped it up. Pulling my trench back on, I pulled the hood up and over my head, pushing the stray hair back from my forehead. A light rain started to fall and I walked towards the bus stop. Hands in my pockets, I pulled out my iPod and casually unwound the cord from around the touch's screen. Putting the ear buds in my ears, I pretended to listen.

The bus pulled in at exactly six past midnight, I got on and paid the old bus driver. He gave me a once over, eyes searching for any bulge that looked suspicious and allowed me on. I went to the back and slid into a window seat. I had a good view of the road and the bus door. I blew out and settled in.

I had searched the buses route and calculated the route I would take to the border. Anything after that was a very un-spy like game of guess and try. It could get me killed, that I was certain of, but I had enough courage and trust in myself. I was a spy- a Gallagher Girl through and through. It was in my blood, same as my mother and my father. Same as Zachary Goode, the spy who came and went, just the way we are always told to.

But, still, something deep inside me was certain that I hadn't seen the last of Mr. Z Goode just yet – and that every time I saw him he was lying to me. I also had a strange feeling, that finding out that secret and bringing it to the light was going to be the death of me – one way or another.

I felt my iPod vibrate in my pocket. Snapping into spy-mode, I scanned the bus. Two men, in brand-spanking new Armani suits and polished ten-thousand grand shoes were trying to get onto the bus. I looked at the briefcases that they carried and tried to remain invisible. The briefcases were black leather and had the Circle of Cavan symbol branded just over the locks.

I nervously tugged on my platinum blonde, page boy wig. The wig has been a last minute idea, just before I went to 'bed.' It was very Salt. Hopefully, they hadn't seen the movie. Or a James Bond flick. Or a Charlies Angels movie. Hopefully, they hadn't seen any spy or espionage movies. Even Get Smart. I had my pepper spray.

Three Reasons Why Being a Spy Undercover Totally Sucks

You can't act like a spy

You have to act like your cover (In my case; an innocent teenager that hasn't had any self-defence classes. Ever)

You can't beat up the bad guys

All in all, I wasn't in a very good position. They probably had guns. And explosives. And swords. And daggers. And knives. And guns. Did I mention guns? While all I had was pepper spray, an iPod, a flip-phone, an illegal pocket knife, a lighter and a very chick Black wig. Plus, I was about a hundred pounds lighter than the short guy with the moustache. Summary; I could take them with both hands tied behind my back and still have enough breath left to run five miles.

Who was I kidding?

The men, with there suspicious looking Circle of Cavan briefcases, sat down at the front of the bus. I found a book wedged under the seat with a picture of a metal dragon on the front and started reading like I had no idea that those two men could kill me. I hadn't been free for more than an hour and already I was in a life and death situation.

The men on the bus got off seven hours after they got on. I had finished the book and nearly finished re-reading it when they started to shift uncomfortably. The agent with salt and pepper hair, tanned skin, muscles that resembles a football player, towering over the rest of the bus at about six feet ten picked up his top of the line mobile and started dialling. It started to ring after he had gotten out the one-five-triple three. I strained hard and tried to hear as much as possible. Leaning over the seats like a normal teenager, I pointed my normal-looking iPod in there direction and taped in a string of commands, after a burst of static I heard the private conversation.

"Agent McEwen, it's been ten days. Have you found the girl yet?"

Agent McEwen looked rather uncomfortable now. "No sir – the agent managed to avoid our tails and arrived successfully back at the enemy's Headquarters. We sent in two men, but they tripped an alarm and have been detain in the prison underneath the school," there was a prison underneath Gallagher? Why hadn't it been mentioned before? Why hadn't I found it yet?

"Agent McEwen, I don't want your excuses – you have failed and that's not good enough. We need that girl! One way or another we will have the Shadow Thief's secrets! He and his partner were the biggest threats to the leader! Even bigger than those stupid, incompetent CIA and SAS Agents - Emmanuel Grigori, Nathaniel Maximum and Aria Harrison - ever were. We only kept the secret after we bombed the towers," Agent McEwen looked very uncomfortable. He was sweating like a pig in the desert.

"I though the Trade Towers were the terrorist group – "Agent McEwen was cut off, by harsh and cold laughter. So Cavan planned and executed the 9/11 bombings? That was definitely something they never taught at Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women. What else had they kept hidden from the population of spies-in-training?

"Fool! Only a select few ever knew about the plan – and an even fewer knew that we actually executed it ourselves! The three agents had been getting close to discovering our plan – our real plan. We took care of them. End of Story," Agent McEwen looked as stunned as I felt. It was a comfort to know that he wasn't in the loop either.

"Shadow Thief is trying our patience. We need those answers now! We can't wait another eight years for him to break! Our window of opportunity grows closer with each passing day! We need to strike at the perfect opportunity, and it approaches us. You are through – I will send the Crouching Tiger and the Minotaur to do what you have failed at," Agent McEwen started to say something but the mysterious man on the other end cut him off, " McEwen! That's an order!"

The call disconnected and the bus pulled silently into the station. Agent McEwen and his anonymous associated looked at each other, transmitting a silent message and got off the bus. I couldn't relax until the bus had been moving for twenty minutes. When I finally did, my mind was roaring with questions. Who was the Shadow Thief? Who were Crouching Tiger and Minotaur? What were they after?

The bus stopped again and a girl who looked about my age took the seat in front of me. She looked around or close to my age, give or take a year... or two... or three. She had this really strange, champagne coloured curly hair and big, green-blue coloured eyes that seemed to swirl. Her bag was big and a royal purple. It matched her knee high boots, which she had pulled up over dark- grey skinny jeans, and her purple scarf. Her white sleeveless blouse was pretty and her cream coloured cardigan finished her 'look.' Macey would like her, even if her clothes weren't designer brands or super-expensive. I don't know why I was paying more attention to her then to any other passenger, but I got a bad feeling.

Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night and
wouldn't you love to love her?
Takes to the sky like a bird in flight and
who will be her lover?

All your life you've never seen
a woman taken by the wind
would you stay if she promised you heaven?
Will you ever win?

She is like a cat in the dark and then
she is the darkness
she rules her life like a fine skylark and when
the sky is starless

Rhiannon: Fleetwood Mac.

I was surprised someone her age would even know the song – I only knew it because of Grandpa and Grandma Morgan. They always played the 'oldies' station. I knew all the Eagles and Queen and Prince and Meatloaf and Pink Floyd and Led Zepplin songs. I wondered if she had grandparents like mine.

The girl was going through her bag and had successfully located and pulled out her slide phone when the music cut off. "Freaking extra large bags. Stupid sisters who find obsession in accessorising shoes with handbags and handbags with scarves! Who really wants to be a perfect little fashonista anyway," she mumbled as she fiddled with the phones settings and buttons. I'm pretty sure she was the only teenager I knew who didn't know how to use a cell phone. I wondered which rock she had been living under for the past sixteen years.

Her iPod touch dropped down out of a front pocket and fell to the floor. "Bugger it!" she hissed as she lent to pick up the touch. Checking the screen for any cracks, she shoved one of the buds in her ear and put her pass code in. 7-8-5-3-8. The screen flashed on with a pretty cool shot of a blood red rose half covered in fresh snow. It was cool.

She flicked through her music and I caught more seventies, eighties and nineties stuff then Lady Gaga, Rihanna, Justin Bieber, Usher and Katy Perry; she had Queen, Pink Floyd, The Police, Led Zepplin, Aerosmith, Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, Chris Isaak, Michael Jackson, Pat Benatar, Bon Jovi, Kiss, Norah Jones, The Beatles and more. The Only recent stuff I noticed was by Bridezilla and E.S Posthumus. She was a classics girl. She flicked through and finally settled on her 'Top Twenty Five Most Played' play list. She flicked through that and decided on one I'd heard before; Born to Be Wild, by Steppenwolf.

She rearranged her bag and pulled out a worn paper back copy of The Lord of the Rings and flipped open to the page she had booked-marked. Settling in, she started to read. Her bag was on the edge of the seat, carefully balanced on the edge so it wouldn't fall off and skid down the aisle to the end. A pair of silver Ray Ban aviators were perched don her head, pushing back her hair and effectively keeping it off her face. She looked way to calm and relaxed. Her phone beeped, loud and obnoxious like it expected better. She mumbled, checked the page number, closed the book and slid it open. I read the text over her shoulder.

Good Luck Foxy Mama,
- The King

The text made next to know sense, but the girl looked suddenly serious. She fired back a response so quickly I didn't see more then a few letters flash on the screen. Sliding the phone back, she shifted around in her bag, dumped the phone and pulled out some gum and started to chew.

The phone was pretty good, top-of-the-line I'm pretty sure. I wonder who she was with and wether I could hack it and get some background on her. She made me uncomfortable. That phone just didn't fit in with her image. I could probably track her through that aim card easily.

The though hit me like a tonne of bricks. How could I seriously overlook something like this? It could get me killed! Stupid, stupid Cammie!

I fumbled for the phone I grabbed just before leaving Gallagher and hurriedly pulled it apart. The small sim card lay in the palm of my hand, mocking me for awhile. My friends – Liz, would be able to find me using this tiny little thing. I looked at my phone and pictured the girls slid. Same brand. Same model.

Lady Luck was favouring me today. Carefully, as not to disturb her, I slipped my hand into her bag and grabbed her slide. I slid my hand out and pulled it apart carefully. Using some special equipment I had swiped from Liz's in progress pile, I deleted all my information from the phone I was using and, using Liz's ingenious equipment, I downloaded all the information on her sim onto the one in my old phone. Once I heard the beep, I switched the sim cards and replaced mine with hers.

I slipped her phone back into her bag and breathed a sigh of relief. The bus pulled into the stop and the girl gathered up all her stuff and stumbled to the front. A man in his late thirties tried to slap her butt, but she danced around his hand. She turned around and walked backwards. Half way down the isle she flipped him off. He glared at her and she gave a little wave and an air kiss.

She reminded me of Bex, Macey and Liz if they where one person. My chest felt empty and I was choked with guilt. I'd left them all alone. Hopefully they would understand that.

It's been two days since I left the Gallagher Academy. So far, I haven't had many run in's with enemy agents (many equals none). But, still I have a tingly feeling like I'm being watched by someone. I spent two nights in Chicago because of that creepy feeling at the back of my neck. I lost valuable time and I've been making up for it ever since.

"Then one night, I heard something slid under the metal bars of my cell door. 'Get out of here Rebecca, while you still have a chance' it was a man and he had gotten me my cell key. I hurriedly unlocked the door and tried to find his cell. 'Don't bother, Rebecca.'"

"'How do you know my name?' I remember a worn out laugh that used to be a daily habit, but was now something that never escaped his lips. 'Your father would be proud of you.' Footsteps came and I knew that if wanted to get out, I'd have to leave. It took me seven hours to get out of those tunnels and into fresh air. My internal clock wasn't working, so I didn't know anything about my bearings. Eventually I found a town."

The memory came back in a twisted fog. Bex had been describing the Circle of Cavan's base and how she'd escaped. The mystery of her saviour was still just that – a mystery.

I'm in a small town in Montana. Lying low and staying hidden. A stray teenaged girl isn't a site you see to often anywhere. Especially when she has a bag and her head doesn't match her eyebrows. My platinum blonde wig resembles my eyebrows a little better then the brown one did… and the black one. I lost one of my contacts in a hustle with some drunken idiot's so I've now got one green eye and one blue. Luckily, it's not an uncommon thing to see people with two different eyes.

But besides that, I haven't had a proper shower in four days and I'm running low on options. Plus, it's really unlucky that I have a split lip from those stupid, idiotic drunks. Whenever I've been asked about it I say that I had an accident and tripped. You can tell that they don't believe me. At all. But, that's there problem not mine.

I've also made a thrilling discovery. All alleyways, no matter where you are – smell like cat pee.

Add that on top of my many clues and leads, I have absolutely nothing except Bex's story to go by. If the Circle of Cavan aren't on the border this whole trip would be for nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada. And that would suck.

A light rain had started and I the wind had picked up, making it cold and wet. The streetlights had been turned on, but they did nothing but make the place lightly eerie and ghost-like. In the distance, a terrible neon purple and green sign flashed on. The Two-Sided Coin. A strange name for a bar, especially considering it had flyers for weekly strippers pasted in the windows so you couldn't see inside from the street.

I opened the door and a bell chimed above the door. I stood in the doorway; dripping all over the wood floors and took in my surroundings: Pool tables, poker tables, card tables, and a huge bar that stretched along the entire back wall. It was a normal enough bar. I kept my eyes averted from the stage… and the pole dancer. A group of overly drunk and touchy-feely men hooted and cat-called at the girl in the middle of the stage, dressed in nothing but a lacy bra and something that resembled boy-legs. She couldn't be any older than twenty-one.

I tried to hide the look of disdain that threatened to cross my face. I needed to fit in, be another face in the crowd. I wasn't the only teenager in the crowd. A group of four boys and a girl sat in a booth farthest from the door, half-hidden in shadow. They laughed, quietly and a few of the older looking boys nursed some beer bottles.

One caught my attention. He had jet black hair and light brown skin, like he spent a lot of time out in the sun. His hair was messy and just fell into his eyes. From where I was standing, it looked like he had two holes in his left ear and a ring through his lip. All the teenagers seemed relaxed and were speaking in hushed tones. A brown paper bag passed from one of the boys to the girl. Drugs.

I sighed and wandered over to the nearest card table. I slid into a seat and looked at the dealer. He raised an eyebrow and pointed to a sign pinned on the inside of the door. No ID, no game. I sighed, and pulled out my 'wallet' and slapped my, fake, ID down on the table. The dealer picked it up and gave it a once over.

"So, Channel," he sounded like he didn't believe it. I acted like I couldn't care less. "You know the rules?" I nodded, curtly and tossed all my left over money at the guy. He counted it and swapped it for the appropriate chips. He dealt the cards and the game started. We placed our chips in and played.

I was holding a queen of hearts and a ten of spades. Confident in my hand, I stayed. The dealer had a nineteen. I won.

As the game played out, I was winning more and more. I wasn't a gambler, far from it actually, but I was starting to become more and more confident and started making restless bets. I moved from table to table, eventually settling on a poker table. Here, a tall man wearing a Gucci suit and two men with tattoo's covering every spare inch of skin had been playing. The suit-man had been cleaning everybody else up and the tattoo guys had just left in a furry having been completely cleared out. It was nearing ten o'clock and the bar was packed. A woman wearing the skimpiest outfit ever created and with terrible bleached blonde hair sat down. Two guys that had been trailing her all night quickly grabbed the two seats on either side of her. I took the second to last chair.

After I lost my first few hands, I knew something was up. He knew exactly when to fold and when to hold and when to up the pot. It was like he could see my hand. Growing restless, I tried to figure out his game. Using my spy-senses, I tried to deduct the reason behind there ESP. I played another round, and watched them carefully. The rich man in the Gucci suit gave it away.

He spared a glance in my direction when he thought I wasn't looking. But he didn't look at me; he looked just above my head. Smiling to myself, I accidentally dropped my cards and bent to pick them up. I cast a glance up and caught site of the mirror hanging directly behind the seats belonging to me, the skimpy woman and her entourage. I slapped my forehead. It was so obvious!

Now all I had to do was figure out a way to cover the mirror.

I sat back up in my chair and got comfortable. We played out another few hands, each of us winning one. A crowd had gathered round our table. The pole dancer had been replaced by three stripped about two hours ago. As the clock hit the hour, the curtains closed. The group of men, who had been ogling the strippers, grumbled and came to join the crowd. In a stroke of luck, they stood in front of the mirror.

The Gucci man couldn't say a thing without recognising that he'd been cheating. He was cleaned up immediately.

I left the table with a healthy fund, having made an extra two hundred bucks of my table games. Feeling confident, I decided to try my hand at another table. Here, they where betting big money and what ever else they could – cars, condo's, horses, drugs. I sat down in the empty chair and the cards were dealt.

After about an hour, poker started to bore me. I went over to the pool tables. I now had four hundred and fifty dollars. It was enough money to get me to Canada and the Circle. But, I was having fun and learning bits and pieces about the strange goings ons of some slimy individuals. I'd heard some news that sounded like it could help me on my vengeance mission.

At the pool table, I cleaned everybody up. My first challenge came in the form of the black-haired boy. I was talking a tricky shot when I caught his stare. He was looking at me from his corner booth. Noticing my attention, he cocked his head and smirked at me. He crooked a finger in my direction. My cheeks flamed and I hastily turned away, slamming my cue into the ball and completely messing up the shot.

I didn't look his way for the rest of the game. When I was setting the balls, I covertly glanced back over to his booth. He was gone. I sighed in relief and frustration. Why is it that normal boys did this too me?

"Looking for someone, sweet-heart?" I jumped a mile and spun around, pulse erratic. The black haired boy smirked at me again, hands up like I was some jumpy animal. His breath and been warm against my neck.

"Excuse me?" I stuttered. His smirk widened and his eyes shone, dangerously. I couldn't help but notice that they where the colour of blue-fire. He picked up a cue stick and tossed a wad of cash onto the table. He titled his head towards the table, still smirking. "Are you in or out?" I placed my own money on the table. I broke the balls.

He studied the table. "Three-ball corner pocket." He pushed his cue forwards with a short, quick thrust; the white hit the three and it dropped into the corner pocket with a clack. He cleared three balls in quick succession before he spoke again.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?" he asked, leaning against his cue. His fire eyes watched me, unwavering. I stopped mid thrust and looked up at him. His eyebrow rose and his eyes shone with an emotion I didn't want to pinpoint.

"Making cash," it sounded like a question.

He laughed, soundlessly. "You don't look like the kind of girl who needs cash, Channel." The goose bumps became more prominent on my skin and a cold shiver ran down my spin.

"How do you know my name?" I demanded, slamming the ball into the side pocket. It dropped in and bounced against the other balls. The boy smiled at me for the first time and slid his hand into his jeans. I cocked an eyebrow, mimicking his laid back and questioning movement. He pulled an ID card out of his back pocket and slid it onto the table. It was my fake one.

"How did you get this?" I lunged for the card, but he picked it up a split second before I did. I dangled it between two fingers, teasing me.

"You dropped it," he said simply.

I glared at him, trying to put as much ice as I could into the look. He didn't seem to care. He took his next shoot and sunk another ball. He looked up at me through a curtain of his hair as he leant over the table.

"It's not really your name, is it? You can't be eighteen – maybe sixteen, could be seventeen. But definitely not eighteen," I gaped at him, speechless. Was he Blackthorne?

"You can't go and make allegations like that. I don't even know you!" I managed to choke out, after about a minute of silence. The boy laughed under his breath. Glancing up at me, his eyes measured me and moved up and down my body.

"Call me Jem, sweetheart."

I gave him my hardest look. "Don't call me sweetheart." He shook his head and didn't say anything for awhile. I cleared a couple more balls from the table.

"What can I call you than? Channel isn't your name," a group of tall men entered the bar. They were well built and towered at around six-seven. I saw a bulge in there jackets and realised that they were carrying weapons, guns and pistols.

"Do you prefer Chameleon?" He lent over the table and lined up a shot. His pool cue shot forward in a swift movement and executed a perfect bank shot, sinking the ball. His well fitted t-shirt pulled up around his biceps and I caught something that looked like ink on his skin.

The men opened there jackets and pulled out there guns and pistols. One man even had a huge gun, a sniper, perhaps. The guys on the closer tables stopped playing, but the rest of the bar hadn't noticed yet.

"Wait, what did you call me?" I demanded.

The smallest man pulled out his mobile and started speaking rapidly. I couldn't hear what he was saying from over here.

"Or is it Cammie today?"

I spun around to face him just as three things happened. One – A stripper on stage noticed the men and they guns and started to scream, shrilly. Two – The short man snapped his phone shut and raised his hand up. Three – Jem wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me to the ground, knocking over the pool table and creating a sort of shield just as the men started firing. The balls went everywhere, slamming into the ground and other players alongside with the bullets.

Chaos erupted inside the Two-Sided Coin. The strippers started screaming bloody murder and blood coated the floor, walls and even the ceiling in seconds. Eight bullets ripped through the pool table-shield, one going right through and moving through my hair. I twisted my body around so that I could see Jem.

He seemed calm. Jem slowly pulled up his shirt, showing a honed stomach with a pack. He pulled out a .375mm Glock 33 Handgun. He flicked the safety off, as cool and collected as a cucumber as I gaped at him. He looked down at me and smiled. He cocked an eyebrow.

"Who are you?"

Jem just looked at me like I was crazy – even though he was holding the gun. His face turned serious as another bullet ripped through the table. His hand forced my head down and his body pinned mine. I was on top of my bag and something was digging into my hip. I covered my head with my hands as plaster from the rough fell down around as like the rain pouring outside.

"Listen closely, Cammie. My name is Jem Connors and I'm just like you. They are the Circle of Cavan and they are after someone – a Gallagher Girl," his eyes flickered around the room at random, estimating and plotting the best escape routes, "I'm going to start a diversion and you are going to do one thing: run."

His blue-fire eyes settled on me. "I'll see you soon, sweetheart." He jumped up and fired. I crouch-ran around the dead bodies and through the plaster and over-turned tables. I hated this feeling of hopelessness. I slipped out through a door behind the door marked Employees Only. I ducked through the door and sprinted through the lounge. A group of people had huddled behind an over-stuffed arm-chair.

Not even sparing them a look, I tried the door with Exit in glowing green neon over the top of it. It wouldn't budge. I took aim and kicked. The door shuddered and I repeated the action. It gave way and I was out like a rocket.

At the end of the ally-way, I ran into a group of men wearing suits and holding very large guns. I kicked and struck out at them, dodging blows and well placed kicks. It was over in seconds and I was across the street. Police sirens echoed in the distance. I needed to get out of here. I found a good looking black-Mercedes with its back window open. I pulled myself through the window and into the front seat. The black leather was damp from all the rain and my wig was ruined. I ripped it off and chucked it out the window. I tried to remember every thing Macey had taught me about hot-wiring cars.

The engine roared to life and I sped off. I drove for three hours before pulling over. I rummaged around and found a map. The border was an hour away and luckily I was in the same town Bex had gone through while escaping.

Putting the car into fifth gear, I floored it all the way to Canada.

It was five before arrived at my first Canadian town. It was quiet and was exactly what I thought it should look like. I hid the car in a deserted car-park. Making sure no one was looking, I changed out of my torn and blood soaked clothes and into black leggings, black leather combat boots and another black singlet. I pulled on my tan leather jacket so I didn't look… un-trustworthy. I took out some Napotine patches both tampered-with and normal, chewing gun that doubled as explosives and the normal kind, my iPhone that was stocked with all the high-tech equipment I would need and my lock-picking kit.

I asked around town. I asked the locals everything that I needed to know and they were happy to answer all my questions. Soon, I was directed to an abandoned warehouse, nestled in a picturesque hillside. It looked un-touched to the un-trained eye. I approached from the north forest, following a well used path. Eventually it turned south away from the hillside. My eyes searched the ground, looking for something to point me in the right direction.

Finally, I found a hidden pathway. The grass had been beaten down and lay squashed against the dirt. I followed this track and eventually came to what looked like an old railway. It had been blocked off. I started the waiting game. I lay on my stomach, doing an army crawl towards a set of bushes. An hour after I arrived, at exactly nine o'clock the blocked off entrance started moving like a garage door.

I ducked down and watched as three camouflaged jeeps, carrying armed men left. I waited until I couldn't here the engines anymore and I started towards the concealed entrance. The doors had started to move again and were closing slowly. When I was twenty metres away it was only a foot or so above the ground. I dived under just as the doors shut.

Breathing heavily, I brushed myself up and looked up. The roof was fifty feet high and the tunnel was big enough to fit three army tanks in, side by side as well. It stretched on for about four hundred metres before it diverged into two sperate tunnels. I hid behind a stack of crates and crept along; ducking when-ever someone came close.

The people either wore; white lab coats, suits or what looked like an armed forces uniform. I was running out of crates when the first person spotted me. All the doors had a specially designed access system that needed a hand print and an ID card. She was one of the women wearing suits and had come round to get something out of a supply closet. She played with the lock and the door opened. I followed her inside and knocked her out with a Napo patch. I swiped her ID card and dragged her towards the hand scanner.

"Access Granted. Bryce, Gwendolyn R. Clearance Level: Charlie Nine."

I dragged her body into another closet and quickly changed clothes with her, pulling her waist high dress pants, white blouse and jacket; they were a size or so too big, but the pants were long enough to hide my combat boots. I took her ear piece and slipped it in my ear.

She had glasses, which I took and put on. Looking at myself one more time, I left the room and walked out in the open. It worked. It went against my Chameleon nature, but it worked. No one gave me a second glance. People greeted me and I waved back. The one person who noticed my different hair colour believed me when I told them that I had had it coloured for a friends wedding.

I searched any deserted rooms I found, I looked through every file I could lay my hands on. Nothing gave me any clue as to what the Circle wanted me for. I was going through another file, with no new results. Disgusted, I placed the file bag and ran a hand through my hair in frustration.

I walked out of the room and slammed the door behind me; two scientists's flashed me a questioning look but didn't ask any questions. I stormed down the hallway and entered a circular room with chairs placed in a neat circle. I left and tried the next door.

A piercing alarm started echoing in the hallways and a robotic voice spoke. "Code Black, Code Black. This is not a drill."

I moved with the rest of the crowd, following them through the swirling matrix of tunnels and passageways. The group was slowly starting to split up, heading in different directions depending on there rank, position or job. I stumbled through and open doorway and found myself in a huge pentagonal room.

Seventeen men and women, all with guns pointed directly at my head, had circled around me. I moved my hands up so that they were equal with my shoulders. Directly in front of me, two men parted ways and a group of five men and women stepped forward. The one that spoke first was the last person I would ever expect to find in a Circle of Cavan base.

"Hello Cammie."

A/N: Is this good? Teaser for whoever guesses the persons name right!

Once again, dreadfully sorry for any inconvenience regarding my update! How long has it been? July? August?

Sadly, I make no promises about when I can update next, since I'm busy with school and such.

But, on a more cheery note: Danger isn't a Game has been nominated in the Second Official Gallagher Girl Winter 2010 Awards! Here's the link: /forum/THE_2ND_OFFICIAL_GALLAGHER_GIRL_AWARDS_WINTER_2010/80300/

If you like this story and want to see it represented, go there and vote for it! It's a tough competition, but I couldn't be happier that it's been put in the running! Danger isn't a Game is my first story on FanFic!

I also have written another story, The Night My Life Changed! It is a slash between two female characters and my BFFL, 'Flo' co-wrote it with me (she did the make-out scene).

Read and Review!

- Agent 006