Miss Murder

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Isabella Swan is not your average teenager. All her life she had been trained and taught one basic thing- emotions don't matter, love doesn't exist. Now she is on a mission- assassinate Edward Cullen. Failing will cost her life, but succeeding will cost his.

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Chapter 2

I just arrived in Forks, Washington, after an annoyingly long plane ride, three bags of chips, two sodas, and some steak with potatoes. What can I say; I have an appetite. But that doesn't matter. I am currently in front of a highschool. Forks High to be precise. My target is inside building B room 209- Algebra II.

I park the red Harley Davidson that I just bought by a silver Volvo. The targets car to be exact. I examined it for a minute, for the reason that I have to know my target's interest. And this one seems to like cars, no doubt, or he's filthy rich and enjoys wasting money. Or both.

After doing a short inspection of the perfect vehicle for a speed crazed teen like me, I went into the large building labled 'Office.' I think this is the most secluded and retarded high school I've ever been to on a mission to murder under an innocent mask. But who am I to judge. I shouldn't need to judge anyway- I one without emotions, after all.

I stepped into the small building that should be just as it was named in another building-- an office. At the counter there was a red headed lady with a kind expression and a sweet smile. .She doesn't look as strict as the last office helper I've dealt with, I observed, or uptight, for that matter.

"Hi, my name is Isabella Crimson, and I would like to speak to someone who could get me the forms to inroll into Forks High, please." I said, as kindly as someone like me possibly could. I even squeezed in a fake innocent smile, which was forced, but the woman didn't seemed to notice as she looked at me approvingly and chuckled lightly at me 'cuteness.

"I can give you the forms, dear, and I hope you'll do okay at a school like this-- you seem too nice for your own good." She informed, taking out a thick stack of papers."Please have a parent or guardian fill these out." She added.

"Oh, would it be alright if I filled them out. I live alone, because my parents move so much. My dad said that he had heard good things about this school from a town he was passing, and suggested I stay hear as he and my mother go to Tokyo, Japan to study some new rare plant recently discovered there." I said, a what I hope to be sad expression now on my face. I couldn't be all too sure- I suck at this emotions thing.

Luckily, she looked at me sympathetically and shook her head. "Such an innocent your girl living alone. I just don't like that." She sighed, and reluctantly handed me the forms, pointing me to a beige cushioned chair to sit in and handing me the papers on a clipboard and two pens.

"The pens don't work well- you may need two to get through all that paperwork." She said, obviously thinking I was curious. I wasn't curious though- all the schools offices that I had been to had horrible supplies except at the rich schools. And I had only been on three missions to rich schools to kill from teachers to teachers children. Maybe they were innocent- I don't know.

Rule 2 says from word to word that: "You are never aloud to ask questions as to why you are ordered to kill a person or thing. It is an order from the master so you are to carry it out with only the information that is given to you over your KC cell phone where you origanally are sent your missions. You always do as master says, even if he sends instructions to brutally murder an innocent child or family. There are no exceptions to this rule."

Only I, being the supposedly dead granddaughter of the founder of KC, know that if you break this rule specifically you are murdered or abuse badly. If you plan on entering KC without memorizing ever rule word to word and following them, you are killed upon entry or placed at the lowest rank possible.
Right after my parents ran off, my grandfather took me in when I was three and began training me under stricter conditions than others. I didn't love him, because emotions are unexsisting, but I came close to it. I didn't tell anyone this-- it came without saying, everyone loved the master, but if he was told this, everyone would die instantaneously.
Of course, I never cared that he had destroyed the future as a normal person that I had. That future is just a far away, fading picture in the distance. Who would want to be normal- vastly overrated and terrible boring. I, for one, would hate to live one life over and over, day after day.
Hate- that is the only emotion we could feel. But we don't feel it even though we are trained to- emotions don'ot exist, hate or love, fear or trust- they are lies that your body puts in you head for no apparent reason.

I took a seat in the beige chair and scanned the questions:

Name: Isabella Crimson

Addressed by the name of: Bella

Purpose for attending Forks high: Educational purposes

Why attend Forks over other high schools: Personal reasons

You live with: Nobody

Gender: Female

Age: 17

Weight: 97 pounds

Height: 4 feet 11 inches

Hair Color: Dark brown

Eye Color: Brown

Medical past (That we need to know of): None

Put finger print here:

I went up to the woman at the counter and got a pad of ink, did my print (or more so fake print) and put the ink back. I then went back to answering Five more sheets of standardized and random questions for the next ten minutes. It would've taken the average person an hour, I realized, as I handed Betty, the red head, my paper work.

Once I turned in the paper work, I was handed the schedule that Betty had worked on. She also have me a map and told me that she had color coded everything and labeled what eveything was- as if I couldn't read a map. After five boring minutes of reviewing my schedule and where my classes were, she handed me seven sheets of paper that the teachers had to sign for my transfer to their class. It would be fourth period by the time I got to class, but she said, so I didn't have to come all the way here tomorrow, she would give me the sheets for the first three periods tomorrow. She also handed me a bag, that I didn't bother to check in. I would when I got out of this office.

"Okay... have fun... be careful, dear. And be yourself!" Betty called like a worried mother as I left the office to my first class. I meant to ignore her but found myself waving back to her. Why did I do that. There has to be some rule I just unknowingly followed- other wise I would not have just been so kind to her. Oh, yes, rule 302.

Rule three hundred and two states: "On missions make friends with grown-up or children that can help you reach your goal. Even when they are unrelated to your target, they are still useful to have on your side. Make allies, keep a low profile, and pretend to have emotions on behalf of the rule stating to fit in."

I then remembered the bag, and opened it. I pulled out what looked like a school uniform. I wondered why for a brief second- the population was so few. But I didn't bother farther than that. I headed into building C where my fourth period was. There had to be a bathroom somewhere, and after briefly surveying the map, I found one just as I walked in and turned right.

I went into the largest stall at the end of the bathroom. I then pulled out the uniform, and quickly put it on, adding my own 'style' here and there. I would go for cool punk here, I thought, after my hands began moving on there own to change things on the uniform.

I went out of the bathroom and examined myself in the mirror. I wore a long-sleeved white blouse with a black coat over it and a plain red tie that I had loosened over that. Over the black sleeve on one side of the coat I used a pin from my purse and attached a piece of fabric that matched my uniform's tie. I also wore a red plaid skirt with a belt that started at the top of it worn at the bottom of the blouse, covering part of it. I also wore plaid leg-warmers and the black flats I had on. I kept my hair tied to the side with the black ribbon, and grudgingly removed the eyeshadow I was wearing and dug into the most insignificant part of my leather purse- the make-up compartment, that I had for 'emergency purposes'. I put on eye-shadow that went with the uniform and reapplied other things carefully. I then glanced back at the mirror and exited the classroom.

I then headed to the end of fourth period-- English. I knocked on the door, and the male teacher, obviously I had something to tell him or give him, finished his instructions to an assignment and came out of the room.

"Yes?" He now looked confused, not recognizing my face. Of course teachers at a school like this would know everyones name and notice a new face- the population was far under any school I had ever been to. But this didn't bother me, nothing did.

"Um... Mr. Howards, I am suppose to transfer into fourth period English. My name is Isabella Crimson- I am called Bella, and I suddenly transferred under... personal circumstance." I informed, smiling fakely.

"Oh... sorry, yes of course your a transfer student... we just don't get transfer students here. Well, we have... but few of them." He said, smiling at me.

"So Bella, is it." I nodded. "Welcome to my class. Just follow me in- there are only five minutes left, but I will introduce you and seat you. Oh, and sign that form there, of course." He said.

"Okay? Let's go then." He finished. His eyes lingered on my uniform for a moment.

He reopened the door and every bodies eyes stayed on there assignment until someone looked up to see me following Mr. Howards in.

"Who is the hottie- she new?" He asked the guy beside him, smiling towards me. I ignored him, as his partner answered with a punch to his shoulder.

"She can here you, but she's mine." He winked at me, but I didn't turn to him- I didn't acknowledge any of the rumors or comments that spurted out of their mouths. Some ranged from slut to cool for girls, and for guys it was from hottie to how fast do you bet I can get this one in bed. Once Mr. Howard cleared his throat once, the room silenced, not wanting to miss what he was going to say about me.

"This is Isabella Crimson. She is called Bella, and she will be transferring into this class from this day on. Now, anyone with questions for her raise your hand now." Near every bodies hand shot up when Mr. Howard finished. "Yes, Jessica?"

"Like, what is with the slutty bitches, like, uniform? Like, it's so... like, ugly!" She said, glaring at me. Oh, so that was it, I thought quietly. But then I remembered a rule. Rule Two hundred and thirty-one states: No one is aloud to ruin your reputation.

"Jessica, was it?" I didn't wait for an answer. "I really hate when people try to make others insecure just because the person is insecure about them selves. And sorry, I'm not a slut. A slut is someone who is an immoral or dissolute woman." Her expression turned to confusion.

"I'm sorry, those words are just to big for you. In other words, a slut is someone who doesn't have morals or self-value. A slut is someone who wears short skirts and thongs. A slut is someone who shows their skin to get guys attention. So I am not a slut. Basically, I just described you." I said calmly. Everyone made sounds of approval like 'ahh' and 'ooo' and such.

"She totally burned you, bad." Another girl said, and laughter broke out. I looked at Mr. Howard and he seemed nervous and squimed slightly. I seemed to have that affect on a lot of people. The bell rang.

"Dismissed." He said, and handed me the sign sheet of paper. I exited the room and headed to lunch, as people surrounded me and laughed as they complimented me. I think I was fitting in well enough, I just need to get a few more people on my side. This mission will be a piece of cake. Now all I need to find, is the target.

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