6 Teens and a Spy School

Dedication to........TheSilentWriter23 cause she was the first person that really liked this new story. Follow her and read her stories!

I was cloaked with darkness, in an alley. The asshole that we were chasing decided it was funny to scare the other civilians in our city, by letting off some bombs. Fortunately, no one was hurt. But the police still have yet to find him. We got a few descriptive details of what he looked like by some other civilians around at the time of the bombing.

Oh right, I didn't introduce my self.

The names Ryder, I've been hunting terrorists since I was 7. Born and raised in I.S.A International Spy Academy. I'm one of the best spies in the school. My father, is the head spy, teaching every one of the students the best. Most of the students don't talk to me cause their too scared.

The sounds of footsteps were gradually getting louder as he got closer. I stuck my foot out sending him flying to the ground. I walked out of the shadows of the night and kneel down next to him. I pulled out a pair of metal, silver handcuffs. I pulled his arms onto his back, clicking the handcuffs shut.

"Who's laughing now?" I asked quietly, lifting him up and pulling him down the alley. A black van pulled up and I instantly knew who that was. I threw the terrorist into the back on the van. Making him groan, I smirked at the pain it caused him. I jumped into the front of the van, and Xander pulled out of the alley.

"When we get to the Academy, toss him in the interrogation room, my dad will be in there with him" I ordered. Xander just simply nodded, pressing the gate opener to the Academy. My father was waiting outside the doors.

"Well done, son" He stated and patted me on the back in approval. I just simply nodded and walked into the school. It was quiet since everyone was already in their dorms. I walked up to my dorm which I share with two people. Xander and Rafe. Those two are like my sidekicks, they help me with every mission. My father trained both of them personally one on one. I slid off my leather jacket and hung it onto the wooden chair. 

My mother was murdered, when I was 6. Some unknown terrorists, ambushed her while on a mission, tortured her for a few days. Slit her throat when she didn't give any information. After that, I wanted to kill every terrorist I got my hands on. When I first found out my mother was dead, I didn't cry. I didn't freak out or have a panic attack. You know what I did? I stared at the walls for days, thinking. Thinking how she couldn't have been dead, they couldn't have killed her. I didn't really eat, my father had to end up forcing me to eat, or I would have died. Then, I became obsessed at the whole thing. I found out the terrorists who murdered my mother, I would watch them, their every move. Then one day, just a flick of a wrist. The man who killed her was dead. Of course no one could find out who did it. I just needed that closure that she got her pay back for what he did.