Spy School: Danger is my Middle Name

Haha Jet Planes go brr

When we all got situated, I was the first person to get into the Taxi that Erica had called. After all, the fate of a giant piece of California was in our hands.

Before we took off, I made sure there were no stowaways behind us that I had to worry about. The last thing I wanted to see was Ivar popping up in the middle of the trip and scaring me half to death.

As soon as the engine revved to life, Erica suddenly whipped out at the Taxi driver. He was unconscious in seconds, and the Ice Queen herself quickly took control of the wheel, which also meant get your seatbelts on unless you want to be a stain on the road.

I barely managed to get that thought out of my head before she hit the gas, leaving the hotel, or memories, and friends behind. Our mission here was a bust, and the only reason I was yearning to stay was because of the happiness it radiated. The lobby, the Christmasy room, all of it. Even eating the cookies in front of Mike's face.

But now we were throwing all of that away, into the trash. It felt like something that I wouldn't want to do unless Erica herself commanded it.

Inside the car, I was squished directly next to James, who, since walking out of his room, was beet red, and Mike. This seating wasn't exactly bad, but I still didn't like it. Next to Erica, at the shotgun seat was where I belonged.

Shortly after breaking the speed limit multiple times over, we arrived at the local airport. I still had no idea how the heck Erica was going to manage to get us to California in such a short timestamp, but I was counting on her. After all, she was the only person I knew that could always defy the odds, regardless of the difficulty of the task.

After hitting the brakes, Erica quickly ushered us out of the Taxi, leaving the driver snoring in the luggage section of the vehicle. I wanted to help, but Erica pulled me along with the others before I could do anything.

After a short walk, I realized that we weren't headed towards the airport, but the runaway section.

"Erica?" I said uneasily. "Why are we going over here, where planes are roaring past us at a hundred miles per hour? I don't want to be run over by a Boeing today."

Erica rolled her eyes. "Ben, just follow me. If you're going to act cowardly, don't do it now, since we're going to have to move fast. The plane's waiting for us just around the corner."

"The plane?" Rachel said. "When did you manage to contact that CIA and rent a plane?"

"I didn't," Erica said bluntly. "I borrowed it from the US military."

"How can you borrow something from the US Military?!" I said. "That's just..."

"Illegal? Illicit?" Cly offered. "Erica being Erica?"

"Let's just go with the last one," Erica said, making a sharp turn. "Anyway, get in the plane quickly. We don't have much time before the Croatoan decides that a large chunk of California is the perfect dinner for an Atomic Bomb."

Erica pushed my head over to the direction of our ride, and my jaw dropped the second I found the airplane we would be riding in. 

"Where," I said slowly. "Did you get a Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird from!?"

Erica smiled slightly. "I imported it. No more questions should be asked." 

"That's what they all say," I said. "No dip that you obviously stole the plane."

I could tell Erica was about to answer, but her line was sight was suddenly changed when her eyebrows suddenly furrowed into confusion. I knew that look, and it meant that either something really bad was about to happen, or she was confused.

"Is that Chloe, Ivar, and Heru?" she said, squinting her eyes. "How did they manage to get here?"

My eyes lit up in anger. "What?! We went at least at 120 MPH, and they manage to catch up to us? Are they crazy?"

Erica nodded. "Apparently so."

I looked over in the direction Erica was staring at, eyes catching sight of the familiar trio of wannabe spies running towards us. I just wanted to punch each of them in the face- hard. They had been chasing us for the past few weeks, being annoying, and trying to get into our mission. Those were the kind of pests you just wanted to flick off your life.

"Hey, Ben!" Ivar said, panting. "Sorry I'm late. Are we headed to California?"

"You aren't even on the mission!" I said. "Why are you asking these types of questions? You're just a normal citizen!"

Erica grimaced. "I don't think so, Ben."

I took a look at Ivar again, and then my jaw dropped.

"Say hello to your fellow Agents," Ivar said, flashing a CIA badge. "We're part of your community now."

---POV Switch to Ivar---

We had planned it perfectly.

Wait until the agents were off guard, sneak into their rooms, steal their badges, and quickly replace them with fake ones.

And it worked beautifully, seeing the result. Even the smart girl was fooled.

Ben sighed, holding out his hand to shake ours. "Welcome to the CIA, then, I guess."

The pretty girl pursed her lips. "How did you manage to get into the Academy? Tell me about the process."

Well, turns out the girl was still suspicious. But we had it all planned out perfectly.

"Well, like your friend Mike, the second the CIA realized we were aware of their society, they had to go to a quick choice: kill us, maim us and interrogate us, or simply just recruit us. Obviously seeing the laziness of the CIA, they chose to recruit us. And they didn't want to pay for the transportation back to the Academy, so they just hoarded us off with you guys."

The girl nodded in approval, waving us into the aircraft. "Then I guess we'll have to get you two situated to how things go around girl. First of all, I'm Erica Hale. You can call me Erica, because spies tend to not mention last names in the public."

"Actually, spies tend not to even use real names in the public," Ben put in, winking. "Her cover name is Sasha."

Suddenly, Ben fell to the ground. It was almost as if someone tripped him- but I didn't see any movement whatsoever, so I guessed maybe it was just some sort of disoriented leg spasm.

After getting situated in the plane, we all seated up into our spots. Being a spy was so cool- 5 minutes into the job, and we're strapped up in a Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird, planning to go 2,100 MPH? Sick!

Guys, you have no idea how satisfying clicking that 'Publish' button is