Chapter Two.

What to do...?

Car chases.

They always sound amazing fun in the movies, but in reality they're really not.

Basically, you follow the 'baddy' in his tank of a car, call for back up, and pray that he decides to stop at a service station soon – 'cos you've really got to pee.

And you don't want to get another speeding ticket.

I sigh, Markus Zusarko [the gangster, the arsehole], is still hooning it.

Anyone would think he wants to get pulled over.

What a pillock! I mean, I may not be the most courteous or polite driver, and I do occasionally indulge in a little bit of 'road rage', but still, I don't try to hit hedgehogs or birds, and I definitely don't keep the palm of my hand glued to the horn.

Beep-beep.

I cast a worried glance at my phone.

It's been 'beeping' every two minutes, and every message is from the same person, saying the exact same thing. Give or take a few swear words.

The text messages started off simple.

Kelly, where are you?

They asked questions.

Did you not receive my invitation?

And then they showed clear signs of stress.

I know you know it's my birthday today, so why aren't you here?!

But I refused to reply. There was no way she was convincing me to go back, ever.

I haven't seen you in months! You promised you'd be back, St. Trinian's needs you.

I need you.

Or not.

'Screw this.' I muttered, glaring at the car in front of me, 'I'm through with being a law-abiding citizen, I have a party to get to!'

Putting the pedal to the metal, I slammed on the brakes a metre or so away from the mobsters car, successfully ramming into the bumper and causing the airbag to activate.

'Shit.'

I really don't think these things through enough, oh well.

Leaping out of the car, I marched up to the black Hummer, gun at the ready.

'Out of the car.' I eyed him warily through the open window, he look pissed. Really pissed.

'No.' Markus growled, 'I want to see my lawyer!'

I laughed bitterly, 'You sure about that, Markus?' I spat.

'Yes,' he glared at me, 'positive.'

'I guess that can be arranged.'

I shot him there and then, once in the head, once in the heart – military style.

Double-tap, never fails.

Markus Zusarko was dead, and I was free to go to a party.

After a phone call... or two.

Three deaths in one day; Markus Zusarko [the mobster], Daniel Creedance [the lawyer] and Bart Lyons [my cheat of a partner].

The agency was going to be angry. They were happy for me to kill people, but only if it was on their terms, if it was simply because I was having a bad day, they'd sack me – which sucked, majorly.

I didn't particularly mind killing, but it did made me feel sad and guilty that I had to end another beings life, even if it was for the 'greater good'.

Sometimes, I'm not so sure the 'greater good' is so good.

My phone didn't beep for another half hour.

Another turning point a fork stuck in the road,

Time grabs you by the wrist directs you where to go,

So make the best of this test and don't ask why,

It's not a question but a lesson learned in –

'Hello, Kelly speaking.'

I really need a new ringtone.

'Kelly!' I heard someone screech down the line, 'Where are you?!'

'Uhm,' I frowned, concentrating on the road and not being able to place the vaguely familiar voice, 'who is this?'

I heard the person sigh.

'Annabelle.'

The dial tone rang.

Oh shit.

I pulled into the St. Trinian's car park and sighed.

Home. I thought, relaxing slightly, I'm home at last.

A/N: So, what do you think? I'm writing this at quarter past twelve at night, so my brain is more than a little frazzled. I really hope you guys like this chapter, I'm not too sure about it. Sorry it's so short, but I really need to go to sleep now – even if it is a Sunday tomorrow [today?]. I have loads of homework to do, and chores [joy of joys...!]. So, hope you enjoyed it, and I promise to post more [for all my stories!] soon.

Cheh.

ily xx

=]