A/N- Hey, so it's been a little since I've posted any stories so I'm hoping y'all enjoy this one. Any comments and suggestions would be great as I continue to post more chapters! Enjoy!

Disclaimer- I don't own pitch perfect or it's characters but I do own this story and the idea behind it.

Chapter 1

Beca's POV

My eyes scan the crowd, watching, waiting. With a swagger that I know gets people's attention, I walk to the bar. Eyes follow my every move, suspicious. Always suspicious. After ordering a beer, I turn around and continue my watch, careful not to let my eyes linger on any one person or thing too long.

For a second, it pauses on a couple making out in the corner. Then it continues, creating a mental file for each one. The bouncer by the wall is buff, just as you would expect, but there's a softness in his eyes. One that puts his job at risk as he probably has a harder time saying no. It moves on to a girl attempting to seduce a guy, her red dress too short and too tight. The guy acts uninterested but when my gaze goes lower, it's obvious what they will inevitably end up doing tonight.

Scoffing, I continue to analyze the crowd, taking in every detail and every movement. My eyes linger on one person in particular. A tall blond wearing a pink, strapless dress. It fits nice and snug to her body and for a second, I allow myself to appreciate just how nicely. It doesn't last long though because the job that I'm here to do takes over. Our eyes meet and I'm met with a cold, calculating gaze. It freezes me to the bone, making my insides shiver. There you are.

"Here you go," the bartender mumbles, pushing a beer towards me. "Sorry it took me so long. The people who come here are usually- they don't like beer." The bartender flushes a little bit at the secret he almost let out. Little does he know, it's no secret to me. Without a word, I turn back around, this time with my beer in hand. I try my best to look as casually as I can, though drinking on the job is usually frowned upon. If it works, it works though and it can't hurt to have a sip or two.

Doing just that, I scan the crowd, this time looking for a specific target. I spot many blonds but none with the same dark, empty pit in their eyes. Cursing myself for getting distracted, I take a big gulp of my drink. Damn. Boss is going to be pissed.

"You look like you need a distraction," a warm, honey like voice flows over me and I have to physically stop myself from shuddering. I turn toward it and barely stifle a gasp. A sexy redhead with ice blue eyes full of amusement, sits next to me. My eyes make a trail down the path of her body, stopping for a second on her incredibly long legs. The navy blue dress she wears only makes them seem longer. Forcing myself to focus, I look back at her face which now wears a knowing smile. For the first time ever, I find myself blushing.

"Why do you think that?" I finally speak and shoot her my famous smirk. Her eyes widen and I shiver at the lust that lies within.

"Well, you were muttering to yourself and holding onto that beer like your life depended on it." Letting out a bark of laughter, I shake my head.

"Getting distracted is what made me do that in the first place." The redhead turns her head to the side a little, making my heart beat faster. How can somebody be so damn cute and sexy at the same fucking time? Swallowing hard, I smile and turn my gaze to the beer as if it's the most interesting thing in the world.

"Oh yeah? And what happens if you get distracted?" Her voice takes on a sultry tone and she leans forward a little, giving me a full view of cleavage.

"My boss will kill me," is all I say; is all I can say. She nods and sits up straighter, taking away my fantastic view.

"So why aren't you out there trying to save your job?"

"Oh, my boss will kill me, but he won't fire me. I'm the best." She laughs and damn if it doesn't go straight to my heart. I instantly want to hear it again, to stare into her eyes and see the gleam of laughter as well as feel the warmth that she causes to spread throughout my body.

"Big ego, I see."

"Nope, just the truth." I shrug and take a drink. Her gaze seems fixated on my throat, watching all the while I swallow. Good to know I have an effect on her too.

"If your job isn't in danger, let's see if we can save your life. What's your job? I can try to help."

"Not possible," I laugh sharply knowing that once she hears what I do, she'll run far away. Everybody always does eventually. "I work alone."

"Sounds lonely." I sit back in shock, not expecting her to say that. Before I can speak, my phone rings, making me angry at having to end our conversation. Taking one look at the name, I stand.

"This was a lovely chat but that boss is calling." Slamming down a bill, I turn to go.

"Your name?" Instead of answering, I pretend I don't hear her and walk out. No point in handing out names if we won't ever see each other again.

"What?" I snap, not caring to play nice.

"You are needed back at headquarters. We have to talk."

"But we're talking now," I say sarcastically. My eyes constantly move, even when I reach my car.

"Don't play with me girl. Just do what I say for once in your goddamn life."

"Sir yes sir." He groans and hangs up. Might as well make him pissed. Maybe he'll be too tired from being angry that he'll ignore the fact that I let one go. It doesn't happen to me very often, but when it does, he focuses more on that than how many I do catch. Shaking my head, I push all the emotion rising to the surface down below. I can't afford to let emotions get the best of me. Not in my line of work.

Eventually, I reach the headquarters where I work. I'm part of a very special task force, NLSH. National League of Supernatural Hunters. From minute one, we are tested to see if we qualify and if we pass, we're thrown into training. Twelve hours of painful and grueling workouts with only two ten minute breaks. All of which consist of learning everything there is to know about the supernatural. There's no room for play or laughter though luckily for me, I always found time for jokes. But then again, I'm not a normal hunter.

"Beca Mitchell," my voice is of no nonsense and impatience. The guard scans my badge and a second later, lets me through the gate. I drive into the underground garage where all employees park. My spot is in the far corner, isolated since no one wishes to be near me. Not even their car is allowed to be near mine. No, apparently my freak genes could spread onto their car and somehow hurt them. Idiots.

It does give me the opportunity to drive recklessly though. Swinging to the left, I let my car do the rest of the work until it drifts nicely into the parking space. I get out and smirk at my perfect parking job. Damn I'm good. Whistling, I head to the elevator and press the button to the training floor. The elevator shoots down, making my stomach drop even after all these years.

The doors slide smoothly open and I glide out, ignoring all the stares and instant drop of conversation. The rookies who are just kids still in the training stage, whisper amongst themselves. For once they aren't scolded for stopping their training. Never are they scolded for laughing at the freak. The mutant. Whatever-the-hell-else they call me.

"Get back to work," an instructor snaps and the kids instantly look away, too afraid of the consequences of not obeying. I take my time walking up to my least favorite person, letting them know that I have all the time in the world to do whatever the hell I want.

"How's it hanging, Bumper?" The brown eyed boy glares at me but says nothing. "What? Not even a hello? Rude, I would've thought an instructor would at least follow his own lessons. That is a lesson right? To get on a creature's side you have to be nice, no matter how much you want to hurt them. Well, good thing I'm the only mutant that doesn't take things personally." Slapping him on the back, I swagger away, laughing.

For years, Bumper and I fought for top place in the class. In every activity, we competed against each other for first place. There's always been this simmering hate for each other, only mine is justified. He's hated me from day one just because of my DNA. Never gave me a chance to prove myself and instead, tortured me until I was strong enough to stand up to him.

Dodging all the rookies, I make my way to the office up the stairs. Almost the entire wall is glass, giving the boss the perfect view of his future stars, though his curtains stay closed the majority of the time. When I reach the door, I take a deep breath. No matter how much time passes, I still absolutely hate coming here. Talking to him. After I gain some confidence, I bang on the door.

"Come in," a booming voice answers my knock and I push the door open. As always, I survey my surroundings and still find myself shocked at the hugeness of the room. There's a dark, leather sofa by the wall that's almost never used. Maybe whenever he has a girl over every now and then, but that's about it. Lining the wall all the way to behind his desk are bookshelves filled with cases of weapons, artifacts and books from all around the world, most of which was brought to him as gifts.

Above the shelf behind his desk is a sight that has always-and still does- brought shivers down my spine. It's the head of a werewolf still in the process of shifting. You can see the features of the man almost as well as you can see those of the wolf that he was currently shifting into. Dark, matted fur coats his skin, giving it an oily look. While the mouth is scary with it's wide gape and sharp teeth, the eyes are what gets me. It's like the man's pain was frozen in time and I'm seeing into his soul. Seeing his darkest secrets, desires, and fears.

Shivering, I make my way to the reason I'm here. Reed Mitchell, head of NLSP and my father. His mouth is set in a permanent scowl which some girls might find sexy and along with his serious, brooding attitude, they will follow him anywhere. Do anything he wants.

"Agent Mitchell," disgust at having to share a last name with me, coats his deep voice. The resemblance stops there though. We look nothing alike. He has midnight black hair while mine is a dark brown. My facial features are sharper than his but only because of his many years of frowning. My eyes are a dark grey and his are brown, almost black. I get my looks from my mom according to the only photo I have of her.

"What can I do for you boss?" I swagger over and drop down into one of the leather chairs he has set in front of his desk. He impatiently brushes my feet off of his desk as soon as I swing them up there. This is our routine. I pretend like I don't give a damn and he continues to not give a damn.

"I have a job for you," his no nonsense response makes me chuckle, but inside, it stings. He'll never have any warm comments for me. Never see me as anything but a freak, just like everyone else.

"I thought I already had a job."

"Which I'm guessing you failed to do tonight since you didn't bring anyone in with you." His stern eyes pierce into my soul, ripping it to pieces.

"It doesn't happen very often, you know that. I've brought in more criminals than anybody in here, including you." Shit. Bringing up that I'm better than him was a serious mistake. Reed stands up, towering over me. Gulping, I sit up straight, knowing what's coming and just wanting to get it over with. My head flings to the side with a crack and I can taste iron. When I finally look at him, glee shoots through me. His knuckles are busted and bleeding bad. With the way his fingers are bent, I'd say he broke his hand.

The glee goes away as soon as it comes though. Seeing his hand, broken after only one punch to my face, causes a deep sadness to resonate through me. I really am a freak. Reed sighs and leans back in his chair, pouring a shot of whiskey with his good hand and downing it, all in one smooth move.

"Now, let's talk about that job."