Yay, new story! So we'll see how this one goes. I've been contemplating starting a new one for a few weeks, now, so I've finally decided to do it. Hope you enjoy!

He always wore tight jeans and a baggy shirt, kinda like he took clothes from an older brother and a younger sister. He didn't have any siblings, though, which I could only imagine was lonely at times. Lately, his hair had been shaggier and there have been dark circles under his eyes, like he had just given up. It wasn't like I could blame him, though. Life wasn't being too agreeable with him at the moment.

Whenever he walked into class, he slumped down into the seat, crossed his arms, and puffed his chest out, only to release a heavy breath. He didn't isolate himself from anybody, but he never spoke to the people around him. I wasn't very different, though: nobody around me piqued my interest, so I never conversed with them. Admittedly, he did grab my curiosity, but I had to keep to myself or else I ran too many risks of being found out.

I always sat up in the back corner of the classroom, thankful that it was a lecture hall. There was a perfect view of him and a great range for me to attack if anyone accosted him. It was always free of danger, though, which I was glad for. If it was something that I hated doing, it was causing a stir in public places. It went against everything that I had been taught, but sometimes, it needed to be done in order to protect my clients.

Andrew was my special client, though, since he had ties to my association. I had to make doubly sure that was safe since there was a target over his head now.

Poor kid. He had no idea what mess he was in, and all of it involuntarily. For two weeks, I had been cautiously watching him, making sure no harm came to him. It happened when his dad was killed, and red flags went up in the association. I had the fun of dealing with Andrew since I was the only one that looked like I could still be in college, so it was easier for me to blend in. His mom was being monitored by two of her late husband's friends, and she and Andrew were currently under way for being part of our special protection services.

It was a mess, one that I had the fun of being a part of to clean up.

Not that I minded. I was friends with Andrew's dad, and I had always enjoyed hearing stories of Andrew and his family. They were very warm and loving, and it felt like I was serving a duty to the family in protecting it. Plus Andrew seemed like a good kid. He never went to parties or got into too much trouble, just went back to his apartment when his classes were over, making my job easier. No, the worst part of all of this was having to go through college again.

This would be my third time attending, and it was as miserable as the first two times. But it was worth it.

Except for the programming class I was in. This wasn't worth it, and I always hoped that Andrew would decide to skip a class or two, but he never did because he was a far better student than I ever was. No matter how interesting he found computer science, though, I never would.

So I hid behind my laptop, peering over it once and a while to make sure that Andrew was okay. He sat closer to the front, about three rows in front of the stage where our professor was talking about the importance of understanding the difference of different programming languages, and none of it made sense to me.

I scoped the room, checking the faces of the students, seeing if I recognized any to be an enemy, secretly wishing that there was so that something interesting could happen. Nothing ever did, though. Everyone looked as uninterested as I felt, though they stayed occupied on their laptops with Facebook or some kind of computer game, neither of which had ever intrigued me. Hell, I wasn't allowed to have any type of social networking account in fear of being found out by other agencies, which was a lingering fear for anyone with my job.

"Mr. Evans, I'll give you a bonus point if you can tell me a disadvantage of event driven programming," my professor, Dr. Linus-or-something-like-that called up to me. He knew that I wasn't paying attention, and I had to stop myself from glowering at him. Two weeks in his class, and he knew I never listened to his lectures. I wasn't ever going to need a degree in this, and they had even tried to teach me programming at the agency, but it never sunk in.

My lips tried to form words, and I had to say something to get him to stop looking at me like some kind of idiot. It was starting to draw attention, and my eyes flashed to Andrew, who was now looking at me, just like everyone else in the class. "Uh, i-it takes too much time to do and can be somewhat unpredictable," I offered, feeling my mouth go dry. My hands were itching, like they always did when I got nervous, and I had to wipe them on my jeans.

"I'll give you half a point. It does take too much time, but it's also difficult to do and to have complete control over. You've been studying, haven't you?" He grinned at me, which made me feel uncomfortable since I felt so exposed to everyone. This was something new to me, and I felt like he was able to see through my fake name, my fake background, my fake goals.

"Yeah, kinda," I responded, my voice suddenly breaking. I didn't like him asking me questions, and I made a mental note to at least make it look like I gave a shit so there was less chance of him picking me to answer questions.

Dr. Linus shook his head once, then clasped his hands together and began to pace the stage again, continuing his lecture. My heart thumped in my chest, and I hoped that Andrew ignored my existence again. He and I had never met, but I feared the possibility of his dad having shown him pictures of people from work, which would include me.

When I looked back down at Andrew, he had propped his elbow up onto the armrest and was resting his head on his hand, bored. I told myself that, if the situation ever arose, I'd try to make friends with him since, from what his dad had told me, he was a pretty great kid. At the moment, though, I wasn't really supposed to have any friends, and if I did, I had to lie about my whole life. To everyone else, I was getting my Master's in Computer Engineering, and this was my final year of college. I was born in Michigan and moved to Florida when I got a scholarship, leaving my family back up north. It always worked, and nobody ever saw through it since I had perfected my lying, which I was ashamed of.

After another thirty minutes, the class was released, and I waited for Andrew to leave the room before I left through another door besides the one he went through. Slipping my sunglasses on, I picked Andrew out of the throngs of people, keeping a safe distance behind him. He was the only one who looked like he was sixteen, not twenty-two. He was so short, which he had gotten from his mother, and he constantly looked malnourished, which I worried about.

He was fine, though. Actually, he didn't look too terribly upset over the death of his father, either, but he seemed like the type of person who accepted death and was able to move on, something I never had the talent of, which was silly seeing as what my job was.

Just like with last Friday at two, Andrew got on the bus that was going to his apartment, which I boarded a few feet behind him, sitting at the very front while he headed to the back. Legally, this was stalking, but I had special permission. Regardless, I still felt weird about this, and I felt even weirder when we got off at the same spot, and I stayed about thirty feet behind him, both of us heading in the same direction. He knew we lived in the same apartment, which my agency made sure of. I lived above him, making it easy to bug his place. All of his rooms had some sort of recording device and alarm, except for the bathroom, of course, since there were no windows or doors that led outside.

I pretended to grab a newspaper by the main apartment office while Andrew trotted upstairs to the second floor where he lived. I waited until I heard the door close, then darted up to my room. I didn't want to make it too obvious that I was following him because that would have fucked me over.

The whole spying part of my job was tough for me, but the actual killing came almost naturally, and it terrified me. My dad had always told me that I was a natural-born killer, which I figured was okay since he really wanted me to join him in this agency. I excelled at killing, frankly, and it always haunted me. I always did what had to be done, though, so I was satisfied at the end of the day.

Flipping on the televisions that broadcasted Andrew's apartment. This was so wrong, but it was required of me, and I had been doing this for three years, so I should have been used to it.

Andrew was the only one in his apartment, so I stood and went to grab something to nibble on while I watched and waited patiently, wishing something would happen. For two weeks, his routine was the same: get in, kick off his shoes, throw himself down on his couch, stare at the ceiling for a few minutes, then get up and do homework or watch TV until he could go to bed. He always made the funniest faces, too, which I had grown to enjoy and get a laugh at.

When I heard a phone ring, it was so faint that I thought it was Andrew's, but after he didn't react, I realized it was mine and was practically pouncing at it to answer, knowing it was from work.

"Robbins," I answered automatically, knowing the protocol to answer by my (real) last name. It was how the agency was able to identify people in case our phones were stolen.

"Alex, how's everything going with the Wood kid?" The voice was smooth and calm, and it felt refreshing to hear Maria's voice. My supervisor was always the nicest to me, giving me special privileges since I had been coming into the agency regularly since I was sixteen when my dad took me in. Maria was like an aunt to me, and hearing her gave me some kind of solace since I missed her and everyone else.

"Nothing has happened in two weeks. He does the same thing every day, and there's been nobody who came in while he was away, as far as I can tell. No alarms have been tipped and the cameras don't show anything," I reported, going through old footage from earlier in the day to make sure nobody came into the apartment. "I don't think they're coming after him, Maria, I really don't."

There was a sigh on the opposite line, and the hair on the back of my neck stood. She never sighed, only when she was distressed. "No, Alex, they are. They got his mom. She isn't dead, but we think she's being held hostage to see if she has any information." I heard her struggle for words while I shot out of my chair and paced around, waiting for more news. "We've had two of our own go and talk to them, telling them that Mrs. Wood doesn't know anything, but they didn't believe us. Alex, we need to get this sorted out."

"You're telling me!" I shot back, running a hand through my messy black hair.

"Don't get so upset. You know dealing with an opposing assassin group isn't easy, Alex, and this is extremely delicate. Mr. Wood did know things about their group, and they think that he told his wife and son. We all know that it's difficult changing the minds of people who are set on something. We're trying to get Mrs. Wood back, really, we are. Right now, Marcus is sending you your new objectives, okay? You have to follow them, Alex, no objections. Do you understand?" Maria's voice was hard and urgent, and I knew she was in her office, leaning over her desk, frustrated.

"Fine. But I want more people getting Andrew's mom back, and I want a few more people posted around here. I made a promise to myself that I would protect Mr. Wood's son, no matter what, got it?" I was almost shaking, and I had to get a control over myself. I sat on my futon and exhaled, annoyed, angry, worried.

"I'll send out Will and Kyle. They'll stay guard around the university. As for Mrs. Wood, we'll get her back. When you talk to Andrew, do not mention her."

"What do you mean when?" I asked, now confused. This whole time, I had to avoid him and watch him, nothing more.

"You'll understand. I'll keep you updated, and for Christ's sake, Alex, please know that we're really trusting you with this. Your dad promised me that you're the best candidate for this mission, so don't mess up."

I couldn't get in another word before my supervisor hung up. It's not like I didn't enjoy my life as an assassin, but it got to be a handful more times than not, especially when handling other agencies that would do anything to tear mine down.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I pulled out my laptop and brought up my new objections, knowing already that they were going to be terrible.

Meh. I'll try to keep this updated, just to see where it goes. Let me know what you think? Thank you, guys! You're awesome!