The next day, I slept until one in the afternoon. I pulled on a pair of black mesh shorts and a gray T-shirt. I tied my hair back and went over to Alex's room. He had already changed and was ready to go. He wore khaki shorts and a dark green T-shirt.

"Hey, Cam," he greeted, sounding like his normal self again. It seemed as if nothing had happened.

"Alex, about yesterday-"

"I took it harder than I should have. I overreacted. It's okay, really. I understand."

"But-"

"I really don't want to talk about it."

I sighed. I was dying to tell Alex how I felt about him. I guessed now was a bad time. "So we're cool?"

Alex smiled a little and hugged me. "Yeah. We're cool."

"Are you ready for this?" I asked him.

"I don't know, Cam. I don't want to kill."

"If you have to, can you do it?"

"I think so."

At two, we headed down to the lobby where five other competitors were standing around. There was Rei looking somewhat hung over (I don't know why). Sheila was a nervous wreck. Tom gave Alex and me murderous looks. There were two other men in their late twenties that I didn't recognize. But the one guy looked kind of familiar. He gave me the chills. The other guy looked like a crazy Russian (really, he did!). Rothman walked into the lobby.

"Each of you will be entering the testing grounds through separate gates. The gates lead to a tunnel that you will follow to the end. From there, you have to find the other competitors, and you know what to do. Right now, I'm taking you to the weapon storage where you will choose up to five weapons. Then you will go to the testing grounds and begin. At midnight, we will pick up any survivors. If more than one of you survives, we will continue the test tomorrow afternoon."

We followed Rothman to the weapon storage beneath the martial arts facility. I watched people pick their weapons. Most of them went for handguns and six-inch blades – typical. Alex took two handguns with a few clips of ammo, two hand grenades, and a switchblade. The creepy guy chose next. He went to the handgun rack and picked up two Glochs. Then he picked up a pack of shuriken. Glochs and shuriken…odd combo…but it seemed familiar. I chose next. I happened to prefer Glochs too, so I took one with a leg holster and attached it to my right thigh. I picked up a hand grenade and stuck it in my pocket. Those were always fun. I picked a sniper rifle, a McMillan TAC-50 long range (the best gun ever made), with a backpack of accessories for the rifle. I took a switchblade and tossed it into the backpack. Hm…did I want a fifth weapon? Oh heck, might as well grab an extra gun – just in case. I put a second Gloch into the backpack. I didn't pay much attention to anyone else's choices.

Within half an hour, I was standing in front of a metal gate. Beyond it was a long concrete tunnel. Alex stood beside me.

"GO!" Rothman yelled. The gates opened. Everyone began walking through the tunnels. Alex and I ran ahead. I needed to find a good vantage point to set my rifle. We reached the end of the tunnel and found ourselves surrounded by lush, green vegetation. I looked around for a good place to set up. An elevate place would be perfect. Now, if only I could find one… As I wandered around searching, Alex pulled a spool of wire from his pocket and began setting up traps. Finally, I found a tall tree with a canopy of thick leaves. I grabbed a branch and began climbing. Let me tell you, climbing with an injured shoulder was H-E-double hockey sticks. Yeah, it sucked monkey butt. At last, I reached the canopy of dense green. I stared out from the leaves and branches. I had a perfect view. I took a little telescope out of the backpack, focused it, and looked all around me. There was no one within a three-mile radius. I set up the rifle and unlocked the trigger. Then I waited. About twenty minutes later, I heard high-pitched screams of terror and pain. It had to be Sheila. Then three shots rang out. I grabbed the scope and did a quick scan. I was right. I found Sheila lying on the ground about five miles away, face up with five shuriken stuck in her body and three bullet holes. I felt like vomiting. I peeked out of the leaves to see if Alex was finished. We communicated with a system of signals.

Are you done? I signaled.

Alex shook his head. He tugged on his ear and made a cutting motion across his neck. I heard it. Someone's dead. He began working faster. I looked through the scope again. I didn't see anyone. Good, we were clear for the time being. Alex held up a fist, signaling that he was done. He climbed into a thick mass of plants to conceal himself. And so we waited…and waited…and waited some more. The next time I checked my watch, three hours had passed. I was getting bored and sleepy. Just as I was falling asleep, an explosion scared the crap out of me. I snatched up the scope again and searched for the source of the explosion. About a mile and a half away, there was figure lying face down surrounded by burning chunks of bark. I could just barely see tiny traces of wire. Alex had used a grenade in his wire traps. I didn't know that he went out that far. Jeez, he was good. The figure moved, slowly getting onto his hands and knees. I switched to the scope on the rifle. I took aim, steadying the rifle against my right shoulder. The man lifted his head. It was Tom, the scumbag who wanted to slit my throat. It was about time he was reunited with his brother. Without another thought, I pulled the trigger. I checked the perimeter again – no one else. I relaxed and waited again, checking the perimeter over half hour or so. 11:30 rolled around – still nothing. Was everyone else already eliminated? Oh well, another half hour, and we were done for the day. I heard something rustling beneath the tree. I peered through the leaves and looked around. I saw the creepy guy holding Alex at gunpoint. How did this happen without my noticing?! Oh, God, what do I do?

"Hello, Camryn," the creepy guy called. "I know you're up there."

I shuddered. That voice – it haunted my worst nightmares. It was the voice of Hunter Grey – the serial killer that I was supposed to terminate. He was the one I was supposed to kill, not that little boy. No wonder he seemed so familiar. The creepy face, the Glochs, the shuriken, the way Sheila was murdered – I should have known.

Suddenly, everything was coming together and making sense. Hunter Grey was on "vacation" to America from the U.K. Both the CIA and MI6 were hunting him. I screwed up my assignment. My superiors thought that Grey would go for Scorpia. Then they sent me to MI6, without my knowing, and MI6 is going after Scorpia – indirectly going after Grey. So I was still on the Hunter Grey case without knowing that I was. How does the CIA manipulate me so easily?! Or am I just retarded?

"Come down, Camryn," Grey called to me.

I stayed where I was. I took the Gloch from its holster and took aim.

"Put the gun down," Grey said. "Don't cross me. Your boyfriend's life is in my hands."

Grey positioned himself directly behind Alex, so I didn't have a clear shot. I lowered the gun and slowly climbed down a few branches. I stopped about fifteen feet above the ground and raised the gun again, waiting for an opening.

Grey laughed at me. "That's not a good idea, Camryn. You might shoot the wrong person."

My hands began to shake with fear and rage. Seeing my unstable state, Grey let down his guard. I dropped from the branch to the ground. Alex brought the heel of his shoe into Grey's shin. He pulled himself out of the man's grip and kicked the gun from his hand. I lunged forward and threw my fist squarely into Grey's jaw, knocking him sideways. While he was dazed and off balance, I followed up with a knee into his stomach. Grey crumpled to his knees. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled on it as hard as I could with my shaking hands.

"How do you know my name?" I asked. Being a sniper, I was supposed to be an unknown identity.

"I know everything about you, my dear," Grey sneered. Alex kicked him the stomach, but Grey continued to speak. "You're fifteen years old. You were born in New York City on November 7, 1991. Your mother died in a car crash when you were four. Your father was murdered when you were thirteen. Your uncle was killed by a sniper just a few weeks ago. You're an outstanding soccer player. You go to-"

"Shut up!" I yelled at him. How could he know so much about me? Suddenly, a cold, sharp pain shot through my left thigh. I stumbled back a few steps. Grey had buried a shuriken deep into my leg. The next thing I felt was Grey's combat boot in my stomach. I fell backward dazed and hurt. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alex charge at the man.

"You son of a-"

Alex never got the full insult out of his mouth. Grey fired a handful of shuriken at him. Five deadly blades stuck into Alex's chest. Grey moved to finish him off. I stumbled to my feet and wobbled. Grey sent me back to the ground with a nonchalant backhand across my face. He fired another throwing star into my right arm.

"I'll deal with you later," he growled. He turned back to Alex and planted a shuriken into his leg. Alex howled with pain. Grey pushed the blade further into Alex's thigh with his boot. Alex's desperate screams pierced my heart. Grey repeated the action with Alex's other leg and both his arms. As Alex was tortured, all I could do was lie there, watch, and cry. Finally, my senses returned to me. I yanked the blade out of my arm and hurled it into the back of Grey's head. The blade didn't penetrate as far as I wanted it to since my left arm was weaker than my right. I leaped to my feet and sent a solid sidekick into Grey's ribcage. He fell and landed on his back. The force of his fall pushed the blade deeper into his brain, piercing the occipital lobe and immediately killing him. His sightless eyes stared up at me. I sank to my knees and sobbed. I wasn't sure why. Suddenly, I felt I was Grey's equal. I was a killer just like him. I was a sick, cold-blooded killer. Alex's faint voice finally broke through my thoughts.

"Cam," he called weakly.

I knelt beside him. "Are you okay, Alex?"

Alex chuckled a little. "I wish I knew the answer to that."

I couldn't hold back a smile. Alex was probably in horrible pain and was bleeding immensely, but he still kept his sense of humor. He was lucky that his vital organs remained intact.

"Hey, what time is it?" Alex asked.

I looked at my watch. "11:45. Rothman should be out to pick us up in about fifteen minutes."

"Good. I'm glad it's over."

I couldn't help thinking, No. It's not over.