Born into a world of hate, lies and deceit she was raised to be a perfect soldier. Day and night she fought for survival among men whom she did not even know. She was five years old when they first allowed her to operate a physical weapon. Never would the memory of that day leave her. The grunt of the man whom she had shot still echoed in the dark recesses of her mind. Unfortunately he had run across her training field, which ended with a fatal shot to the chest. How was she supposed to know that death was wrong? That's all they taught her so therefore that's all she knew. Her life was all about death, destruction, silence and deception. And it is why she became their greatest weapon. She never allowed her emotions to show. Her talents were so superior that not even her eyes could betray her in the most crucial and even insignificant matters.
When she came of age everything changed. They made her go out to kill; no longer was it merely training. Now she had to truly kill, or be killed. She never knew she was working for a force that she should have been fighting against. Never did she know all the things they had deprived her childhood of. And never did she know the truth about her parents. That was until one day, when she failed her first mission since all this had begun. The day her life truly began.

I was nineteen years old, having been actively killing for nearly three years. My mission was to kill a man by the name of Alvin Duvall. Headquarters had told me he was a mole, bringing in spies from other continents in order to gain a tyranny over the United States. He was to be meeting a young negotiator sent by the government as a bribe. Little did I know how wrong I had been about it all, and how foolish.
They met under a bridge in the West dock of Cedar Bay. Two black sedans came to a halt around eleven thirty and I couldn't help but think how cheap the government was. In a small crevice under the surface of the bridge is where I hid. I held my sniper up at a very steady angle; sandbags were for amateurs. Duvall wouldn't even have time to think before I shot him down. I remember the thrill I felt at having the gun in my hands. It gave me power, a power that no one could take away. A young man, no older than twenty-two stepped confidently out of the first sedan with a look of implacable determination upon his handsome features. Scolding myself for such thoughts I turned my attention on the second sedan.
When the door opened I felt my heart leap into my chest. I knew this man from somewhere. I had seen him entering my unit only this morning. But why was I killing him if he was working for my side? Scowling I racked my memories for a reason to this assassination. He couldn't be a mole; there was no possible way. A conversation that took place between my trainer and the president of our organization came to mind.
"He's not to be trusted. For all we know he could be selling us to the CIA." The last statement had confused me. So what if the CIA knew? My sector was a top-secret organization working for the government. There was no need to hide our activities from the very people we were working for.
The young man walked over to Duvall, his dark hair glinting slightly in the light of the harvest moon. My attention turned to Duvall after seeing a glint in the front of the sedan. On impulse I shot through the windshield. That was my first mistake. The two men dove to the ground, the younger frantically searching around him. I was to kill them both and I knew it. I couldn't let one live knowing I had been there. Why I panicked I'm still not sure. I had done this many times before, killing whomever necessary. Emotion was something I was trained never to show or even feel. The next thing I knew Duvall was face down on the pavement, a puddle of blood growing around his body. Jumping from my hiding spot with the agility of a tigress I grasped the young man's wrist and dragged him away. My mind was reeling, telling me to let him go and kill him right there. But it was too late. I had touched him. I had removed him from the crime scene. Now he would be blamed for Duvall's death unless he too was thought dead. Why did that thought trouble me so much?
I felt him struggling to escape my grasp as I ran. Turning in my tracks I punched him in the face. He looked at me stunned, a purple bruise already forming from the contact I had made with his jaw. Scowling I got in his face, grasping his chin in my hand. He looked frightened. Refusing to show my anger or frustration I spoke monotonously. That's the one thing I love about my training; it kept me a secret.
"You resist and I will kill you here and now, making it look suicidal. Cooperate and you shall live." He nodded solemnly. "Give me your hand." He did so.
Taking a dagger from my side I took his hand and sliced open his palm. He gasped in pain. I couldn't help thinking that his training must not have been very intense if that had hurt him. Quickly I ripped a piece of his suit jacket off and wiped it across the pool of blood that had formed in his palm. Dropping it I then removed his tie and wrapped the wound with it. Time was running out. Grasping his good hand I ran. When he came with me I was slightly surprised. I would have thought the government would send someone more capable of self-defense. But it wound up being for the better because there was no time for rationalizing the situation. I had to get us out of there and fast. If anyone saw us I'd lose my job and most likely my life.
Shoving him into the passenger seat of my jeep I quickly got in and started the engine. Pulling away slowly so as not to attract attention I removed my gloves and face mask. The man stared emotionlessly at me. Frowning more so than usual I kept driving until we got on the parkway. Once I was sure we were out of danger I slowed our pace and truly looked at him for the first time. His hair was black, cut short. He had dark eyes and tan skin as well. His build was quite nice as well. The look he gave unnerved me for the first time I could remember in all my years as an agent.
"Why did you do that?" His voice was slightly deep and quiet.
"None of your business. Once we get to headquarters I'm handing you over to them. At least they'll know what to do with you." His next statement shocked me the most.
"I know who you are. Jessica Callahan. You're nineteen years old, left alone in the world at the age of two. Taken in by Dr. Trenton and trained to kill. You killed Duvall tonight because you were told he was a mole." Pulling over to the emergency stretch I stopped the vehicle with a violent jerk. Turning to him I grabbed his collar and pulled him closer to me.
"Who are you and why are you here?" He gazed calmly at me.
"Your new accomplice. I was expecting you tonight." I felt the gasp escape my lips. Why was I shocked? What had I expected? Silently I cursed myself for revealing how I felt. That wasn't supposed to happen. Pushing him away I hit the steering wheel, cursing under my breath. He sat back and stared at me, his gaze boring holes in my skin. I've always hated people staring at me. Turning to him I snarled.
"Why are you staring at me!" I was furious. For the first time since I could remember I was scared. But why? Why! He was just some prick that was trying to get into headquarters. No, that wasn't it. There was something about him. He was calm and collected even though I had just cut open his hand and shaken him up. Half the men I worked with would have peed their pants by now.
"You're bleeding." Reaching over he touched my forehead and showed me his fingertips that were now covered in the dark liquid that was my blood. Frowning I turned on the interior lights and pulled down my sun visor to look in the mirror. I didn't even remember hitting my head. It must have happened when I jumped out from under the tunnel. Vaguely I remembered feeling a slight pain in my head as I hurried to get to the young man that now sat net to me. The wound would need about five stitches minimum. Slamming the visor up I reached for the black bag under his feet. Before I could get to it he had it open and was taking out a temporary bandage.
"I can do that myself." Who did he think he was? Did he think he could barge in on my territory and just take over? Reaching out to grab it he took it away from me and gently pushed my hands to the side.
"No, you can't. Let me see." Putting a hand behind my neck he pulled my face down so he could see the wound more clearly. This made my skin crawl. No one had ever touched me in a kind way before. I wasn't used to it. I became furious with myself and with the man. How could I let myself become this vulnerable? But something about him assured me I was safe, that he would protect me. What was happening to me?
"It needs stitches." I hid my pain as he dabbed at it with hydrogen peroxide.
"I know. But until we can get wherever you're taking me it needs to be temporarily bandaged. By the way, my name is Nathan Magner." I looked at him and scowled. "Making faces at me won't push me away. Nothing can." Pulling out my gun I held it to his head. This would teach him to never touch me. Yet Nathan merely stared me in the eye, completely impervious to my actions.
"Now will you back away?" His dark eyes had lightened slightly and I saw they were a mixture of earthy browns. His smile shocked me more than anything in the world as he continued to cleanse my forehead.
"You won't shoot me." How dare he make that assumption about me! A soft click was heard as I released the safety latch, my scowl deepening if that was even possible.
"If you've done your homework you'll know I don't hesitate to shoot anyone." He pulled away and I sat back, still holding my gun up.
"I'm done. That wasn't so bad, now was it?" Glancing into my rear-view mirror I saw that he had indeed done a sufficient job of bandaging the wound. It was better than anything I could have done. I never worried about such trivial things. If I bled I bled, no two ways about it. On the job you can't afford to stop and tend to wounds, no matter how big or small. Grumbling to myself I put away my gun and pulled back onto the road.
"When we get to headquarters I'm handing you over to Dallen. He'll know what to do with you." Nathan sat back, placing his hands behind his head in a carefree manner. The ride back to headquarters was silent and I couldn't help but dwell on all that had gone wrong. How had this man broken through my barriers in less than fifteen minutes? Was I going insane? Did he drug me somehow? For the first time since Lennex had found me I was completely and utterly confused.

I glanced at Jessica out the corner of my eye as she drove on. She certainly seemed to live up to her reputation. I still had no idea how I was supposed to live through this encounter. I was in enemy territory with the most perfect soldier ever trained in the history of my generation. She could shoot a fly on a cloudy day from seven hundred yards away; at least. Jessica's inner fire intrigued me. I wanted to know why she had become so cruel and heartless. The database had no information on her besides her date and place of birth. There was nothing on her parents or other family members. My only guess was that Lennex had all the rest of it stored away in his own personal files.
As she drove angrily down the turnpike I turned to gaze out the window. Silently I prayed that somehow I would make it through this and become a part of her team. But there was no way they could let me go once I got inside. The only problem was the reason why they shouldn't kill me. Would they buy what I'd said to Jessica? Surely they'd know I was bluffing. So what was I to say to them? Jessica was hard enough to deal with. Lennex would do what she said in a moment's notice. Again I stole a sidelong glance. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail; its wavy length braided in order to stay out of her face. Dark green eyes with a golden ring flashed angrily in the headlights of passing cars. I had infuriated her and I knew it. For some reason I felt slightly giddy over that fact. I prayed that she wouldn't shoot me because of it.
"Stop staring at me unless you want a bullet in your forehead." Quickly I averted my gaze. Jess was mad enough, I didn't need to add to it. Perhaps finding new ways to push her buttons could wait until she became more accustomed to my presence. That was, if I remained in it for long.
The ride lasted about two hours, in which time I did my best to avoid Jess' wrath. Somewhere along the line I must have dozed off because when I glanced at the clock it read a quarter to midnight. We were in the middle of the woods, driving up along a twisted mountainside with more curves and drop-offs than need be. Desperately I tried to think of where we could be. Had I been asleep longer than I had thought? Jess noticed my confusion and shut off the digital clock with a swift jabbing motion.
"It's two and half hours slow." My eyes widened in alarm.
"It's one fifteen? Where are we?" My voice had conveyed too much emotion. I saw the disgust in her eyes.
"We're near headquarters. I told you I was going to take you there." I panicked. Simmion had no idea where I was and neither did I. My earpiece was dead; I couldn't hear his instructions anymore. Come to think of it, I hadn't heard a signal since meeting Jess. The only logical explanation was that she had a scrambler on her person. With a sigh of frustration I sat back. I was going to pay for this mistake once I got back. That was, if I got back.
"What will Dallen do with me?" It was a simple question, enough to start a conversation. Or at least, as much of a conversation that she'd be willing to hold.
"Give you the truth serum I suppose. And our method hurts like hell." She smirked and I frowned. How could she enjoy that thought? Then again, I had to remember that Lennex and Trenton had raised her.
"Sounds fun." Sarcasm was my only mask. What else was I to do? Just then I noticed a dark building in the side of the mountain. The shades were pulled down so that only small slits of light could be seen. If one were to simply drive by, day or night, they wouldn't think twice about the purpose of the building. Involuntarily my heart leapt into my throat. We had reached headquarters.