CHAPTER 1

INTRODUCING ELITE SECTION 7A

19th January 2011

I could hear his voice over my headphones. Mocking me, he was. Daring me.

"C'mon, Bec, let's see what you can do. You think you're such a hotshot? Fine, see if you can handle this."

And he started up level eleven of the target practice.

I was at the officially-sanctioned National Crime Authority shooting range. My best friend and training partner, Graham, was outside the booth, running the show. He had gotten sick of all my big-talk and wanted to show me I wasn't as good as I thought I was. I merely laughed, and took aim with my P229.

A minute and a half and forty targets later, I was done. I turned around and saw Graham just staring, open mouthed. He couldn't believe it. I grinned.

"Now let's see what you can do, buddy."

As I ran him through his target practice, my mobile phone rang. Noting who the call was from, I patched it through so I could hear it over the headphones. Graham could hear it as well.

"Hey Larry, how are you?"

"I'm alright, and yourself?"

Before I had the chance to reply, Graham swore loudly as he missed a target.

"You're at the range, huh?"

"Now, how did you work that out?"

"Lucky guess. I'll drop by in a few minutes and pick you guys up, we have a meeting to go to."

 "Great, what's happened this time?"

"I'm not too sure. All I know is, I got the call from Munro, and we have to be in his office at noon. Is it just you and Graham down there? Where's Tamara and Daniel?"

"I can answer you one of those questions," Graham broke in. "It's just us down here, the whole place is deserted."

"And I can answer the other one," I replied. "Daniel's at a lecture, down at William Angliss, and Tamara should be at home, surfing the net."

"Can you call Tamara? I'll get Daniel. Something tells me this is important."

"Yeah, okay, I'll call her."

"Great, I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Okay, see ya then."

In the time it took me to hang up the phone and disentangle myself from various forms of headgear, Graham was out of the booth and glaring at me.

"I'll never understand how you do it, Bec. Level eleven and all!"

"It's just one of those special skills," I replied smoothly. "Either you've got it, or you don't. And, I hate to say it, Graham, but I don't think you've got it."

He scowled. "Yeah, well, I'm better than you at a lot of things, you know."

I picked up my phone and kept talking as I dialed Tamara's number. "But, you see, the thing is, I don't really care whether or not I'm good at some of the things you do, like art for example… oh, hey Tamara, listen, Larry just called, we've got a meeting at noon, I'm down at the shooting range now, with Graham, how soon can you be here?"

Graham stalked off, muttering to himself. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but I could imagine all too well. I laughed.

"Five minutes? Perfect. Larry will pick us up, and we'll all head down there as a group. See you then." And I got up and headed after Graham.

Five minutes later, just as Tamara arrived, Larry pulled up outside. Impatiently, he started tooting on the horn. Quickly jumping in the passenger's seat, I noticed Graham approaching the car, still scowling.

"You'd better watch out," I whispered to Tamara, Larry, and Daniel. "He thought he'd be a show-off, and set me level eleven, and I managed it and he didn't. This time he's really pissed off."

Daniel laughed, Larry nodded, and Tamara giggled. Graham climbed in the back seat, killing all forms of conversation with his foul mood. And in that spirit, the five of us headed off to our meeting.

So that's us, Elite Section 7A. Or just 7A for short, no need for terms like "elite" with us. We know we're elite. We know we're the best.

We've been together as a group for just over a year, since the end of the First Mitochondria War. Our official role in the NCA is "to monitor the prevention of neo-mitochondria and related genetic manipulation." Sure, we do that, but we also do a lot more. I mean, most of us are experts with firearms, some of us are known for computer hacking, you name it, we can do it.

Me, I don't remember the formation of the group. When 7A was formed, I was still in intensive care after the war. But that's another story in itself.

There was Larry, 7A's leader. I watched him as he drove. He was twenty-three years old, the youngest of all of us. He stood the same height as me, five foot seven, with short brown hair and intense blue eyes. He had a reputation for being the "serious" one in the group, but we all knew that wasn't the truth. When he had a bit to drink, he knew how to party. It just didn't happen too often, that's all.

Then there was Daniel, who was currently annoying the hell out of me, by kicking the back of my seat. I had known Daniel the longest out of any of the group, I'd been friends with him since we were little pee-wee twelve year olds. He was my age, twenty-six, but he was six foot tall. He had a fully-shaved head, thanks to a bet he'd lost to me, and the darkest brown eyes. I could read him like an open book, and it had always been that way.

There was Graham, who had been my best friend for a number of years now. He was still glowering at me, but it wouldn't last long. He was twenty-four, stood five foot nine, with short brown spikes on his head and stormy blue-gray eyes. He knows me better than anyone on the planet, he should have known I was only mucking around with him before! But no, he takes me seriously. Again.

Then there was Tamara. To this day, I have no idea why she was in our group. She was my age as well, and was a typical blonde bombshell - long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and legs I'd kill to have. She was also a complete fashion plate. She hated getting her hands dirty, and she was terrible with a gun. It's going to sound really mean, but I sometimes wondered who she'd slept with to secure herself a spot in 7A. I mean, I liked her and everything, she just didn't fit in with us.

And finally, there's me, Rebecca. There isn't really much to say about me. Twenty-six, permanently messy brown hair, brown eyes, five foot seven. Oh, and the neo-mitochondria. Can't forget to mention those. If Australia's census records are correct, I am the only person alive with neo-mitochondria. Sometimes I forget I actually have them. I never learnt to harness their power properly.

It's a long story how I came to possess neo-mitochondria. I'll sum it up like this - First Mitochondria War. Jade Columbia. Everyone's heard of them, knows how they "betrayed the world". Well, I've got news for everyone. We didn't betray them. That's right, we. I was part of JC, though no-one knows it.

Everyone remembers the bad guys, the guys that sought to use their neo-mitochondria to do harm. There was Jay Talleja, leader of the Mitochondria movement. There was Matt, Phil, Mike, Brett and Buffy, members of the Jade Columbia. They're household names, sort of like Christopher Skase. No-one ever remembers the good guys! Consequently, no-one knows my name. Which is just the way I like it.

I was startled out of my reverie by Larry's angry hammering of the horn. I won't repeat what he said, I think it comes under the category of 'road rage'. I checked my watch - five past twelve. No wonder he was mad. I laughed to myself - it was funny watching him get all worked up. Munro hated it when we were late. I wondered how much trouble we were going to get into…