I walk through the silver walled corridor, following the man in front of me. My reflection is mirrored and morphed in the shiny interior, I felt like I was being watched.
I probably was.
The man turns suddenly and I career into the back of him. He ignores me and puts his finger on a scanner, I watch in horror as a needle comes up and pierces his skin, taking a drop of blood. He doesn't even wince.
The door opens and I walk in behind the man, inside is an office. But instead of silver, everything is white. The walls, the desk, the lamp, the pens. Even the man say at the desk wore a pristine white suit, with matching white hair.
"Sit down." His voice is crisp and demanding, I immediately obey.
"Why am I here?" I ask, looking him dead in the eye. He smiles, like he knew I was going to ask that.
"Yes. I know what they were, I know how they were killed. I know how they did the killing."
My bluntness startles him into a couple seconds silence, he seems to be contemplating what I said.
"Well that saves time. You're here because I am offering you protection."
"I don't need protecting." My voice is calm and steady.
"You don't need protecting? You don't need protecting from the millions of people who want you dead?!" He is shouting now, rising from his pearly white chair," when you find yourself dying in middle of nowhere, with a gunshot to the head and manage to survive it, then you can tell me you don't need my help!"
He wheezes and coughs after his blow up, giving away his age. He sinks back into his chair.
"So I will give you my protection, no one will harm you. But in return you have to help us."
"I'm not helping you."
He laughs at me then, a patronising laugh," you won't? Do you know how many people your parents killed? Over a million. Do you want to see these people?"
"I made a little slide show of before and after pictures for you." His face shows no emotion as a man grabs my arm and injects something into it. I scream and slump against the chair.
I see pictures of people laughing and smiling into the camera, videos of them with their families. I smile, they're so happy. Then I see photos of mangled bodies of them, dead. Disfigured and grotesque they lie in piles, no longer a person with an ID and drivers license, a nameless, lifeless body. I feel the tears down my cheeks before I realise I'm crying.
I think it's over, then I see them. A man and a woman stood in the centre of about two hundred people as they torture an old man. I hear his screams, I feel his pain, I try to help him but I'm stuck where I'm sat, glued to the seat.
"I'LL HELP YOU! PLEASE! STOP IT!"
I scream as and collapse on the floor, I see the old man stood in front of me. His face still expressionless.
"I'm glad we could come to an agreement."
I sit in silence, tears sliding silently down my cheeks," what do I have to do?"
"You are going to go to school, make friends, get an education and live with a foster family. This family will be made of my employees, you will have an older brother and a pet dog."
"You will be undercover, for a year. I need you to find out everything about Jacob Longhert. He is fourteen, you will be in the same class and live next door."
He slides a wad of documents across the desk, the top page has my name on: Keira Jones.
"All the information is in these documents, read them tonight. We fly out tomorrow," he gets up and motions for me to leave, I start to stand up but stop.
"Where am I?"
"Well you know MI5? MI6?" I nod, recognising the terms. He walks forward and puts a hand on my shoulder, he leans forward and whispers in my ear.
"Welcome to MI7 Miss Jones."
New story, this is just to see what you think?
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Your Saving GraceTeen Fiction
'My reflection is mirrored and morphed in the shiny interior, I felt like I was being watched. I probably was.' When your parents were number one on the worlds most wanted list, it'...