Chapter 3: Trouble

Cammie's POV (Still, yeah I know, it will change soon)

I headed for the clinic, which was on the -5th floor. The elevator doors slid open once again and revealed bustling people and an open room with offices to my left and right. Spotting the clinic at the other side of the room, I plodded toward it. Yeah, I know, top spy, Chameleon, legacy, plodding, but give me some credit, I was extremely damaged!

The door opened as I neared the office. It revealed Karen, who had the ears of a bat (I have extremely good hearing, but her's is better). She was dressed in blue CIA scrubs, accessorized with a huge smile. Her blonde hair bounced as she turned around, heading towards one of the tables.

"Well Cammie, you look like hell!" She said way too enthusiastically while patting the table, gesturing me to sit there.

Karen always patched me up after missions. In a way, she was like another aunt. We were really close, seeing as I was in there at least 4 times a month.

"Yeah tough mission, but I handled it," I shrugged and hopped up onto the table.

"Well I'm going to get started on patching you up," Karen smiled brightly, "Get comfortable, you're gonna be here for awhile!"

50 minutes and 14 seconds later, I had finished all of my mission paperwork and was all patched up.

"Thanks Karen," I smiled gratefully, "I would stay and chat, but my parents probably want to see me."

She nodded and scurried to the man that had just come in limping.

It was time for me to head home. I rode the elevator, for the last time today (hopefully), and went to floor 1. This was the parking garage that was reserved for the top spies, which included me. I strolled toward the far corner of the dim garage, my heels clacking in the still silence.

I arrived at my car. There wasn't anything I could do to stop myself from breaking into a huge smile. My car was the birthday present I had gotten last year, courtesy of me. It was a matte black Porshe 918 Spyder. The techs at the CIA added bulletproof outer layer, with bullet-proof windows, solid rubber tires, mission alert system, ejection seats, built-in parachutes, and some other things. Basically, it was everything every spy has ever wanted in a car. It was one of my most prized possessions, coming second to my lipstick taser.

Walking up to the driver's door, I placed my entire hand on the window. The window flashed a quick red as it read my fingerprints. Suddenly, the door clicked open and I entered my car. I slid into the black leather seats and did my seatbelt.

Right now, you may be thinking, 'spies don't use seatbelts!', but this is reality. Not a fanfiction. Not a book. Not a movie. Don't ever believe spy movies, honestly I could go on forever about how incorrect they all are, but that would bore you, so I'm gonna get on with it.

Placing one hand on the steering wheel and one on the manual gear, I stepped on the gas and sped out of the parking garage. The hum of the car was already making me feel at home. I drove toward the inconspicuous suburban house that I live in with my parents. During the drive, I felt more and more at home as I saw the familiar roads, famous sights, and mobs of tourists.

I drove into the driveway of a mid-sized house, with perfect green grass, well-manicured flower garden, two garages, alternating brick colors, and dark wood shutters. This was home. Opening the garage, I parked and walked into the seemingly normal house. But things were never as it seems.

As soon as I brought my eye up to the retinal scanner, our bookcases flipped to reveal books such as "Cracking Codes" and "Computer Hacking 101". The door to our underground gym was exposed by the sliding manilla wall, our computers slid into the desk and CIA issued laptops rose up into place, changes went on around the house until it looked completely familiar.

"Cammie! You are okay? Right? Good mission?" My mom was always worried about my well-being, but danger comes with the job.

"Yeah Mom, I'm fine," I sighed.

I was injured from the fight, but this was not even close to the worst I've had. My mind flashed back to the hospital bed. The monitor was beeping at a steady rate, needles stuck into my arms, oxygen nubs in my nose, casts on my legs, bandages across my torso, patch over my left eye. Catherine's name flashed in my head. I shuddered at the thought.

"Are you sure, Cams?" My mom showed her overprotective side once more.

"Yeah, I'm seriously fine. See, no damage," I showed her my arms, knowing that my clothes were covering all major damage.

"Cameron Ann Morgan! Get over here and give your Dad a hug!" My dad exclaimed appearing in the living room.

I gave him a huge hug, "It's good to be back, Dad."

My family smiled at each other. It wasn't too often that we got to be together in one house. Spy jobs don't really leave time for anything else. This moment reminded me of my childhood. I was still young, a spy-in-training, innocent. I guess I'm still young, but I'm no spy-in-training, and I'm far from innocence as well.

Still Cammie's POV

*BANG* My gun went off and the bullet went flying into the middle of the target. I was using my Glock G30 Subcompact Pistol. Not my favorite gun, to be honest, but it was decent.

I pressed the button to the side and my target board rolled forward until it stopped in front of me.

"Not too bad, Cam," My dad commented looking at my perfect shots.

For a spy, vacation turns out to be things like going to the CIA facility to work on my marksmanship (not that I needed to, anyway), and sparring with my parents in our underground gym.

I walked out of the shooting range to return to my locker and grabbed my favorite gun. It was a Colt Single-Action Revolver. You can't really bring that type of gun out into the field, so I tried to use it as much as I could at the shooting range.

Honestly, the gun is my favorite because it looks super vintage. I remember asking for it for over 5 years. Imagine the delight on my face when I unwrapped it on my birthday. As you can tell, I'm not like normal kids… Well, that depends on how you define normal.

Anyway, I shot for about an hour more. I got perfectly in the middle of the target each time. My target sheets were the proof of dedicated practice.

When we got home, I decided to do some hacking. I mean what else is a spy supposed to do without missions? Don't get me wrong, vacation is nice, but boring at times.

I hacked through the CIA database, which was easy enough, and I already had high enough clearance level that I didn't need to hack it, but I might as well use my talents.

Then, an idea popped up in my head. My finger furiously dashed along the keyboard of my laptop. I couldn't do anything to prevent the evil smirk that was rising on my face. The laptop loaded for a millisecond and then beeped. I was into the server. Scrolling through the data, a message popped up: an incoming to the computer server. "Top Secret" read the subject line. I opened the message and smiled. I wouldn't be bored for long.

AN: Okay so this chapter was a still a bit short, but they will get longer, I promise.