My Classmate is a Killer (Unfinished)

Chapter 1: Leave the old, let in the new

"Don't get any closer! I swear to god I will kill her!" the man yells as he clenches onto the girl with one hand, the other tightly gripping a 9mm pistol, gleaming in the dimly lit chamber.
I grit my teeth behind the mask, not letting the man out of my weapon's crosshairs. The girl's eyes glisten with tears, pleading with youthful innocence. "Please... I want to go home..." she weakly pleads as the man's ape-like arm roughly hostlers her towards him.
My index finger readily surrounds the trigger of my submachine gun, as my fellow comrade behind me barks at the ginger-haired man to let the girl go. My mind races as I evaluate thousands of possible options and outcomes, none of which seem satisfactory to my conscience. Suddenly, the man's weapon muzzle starts towards me, taking advantage of my hesitance. I pull the trigger, the gunshot ringing out and echoing through the damp hallway.

***

My name is Jordan McDuff. As of now I am 16 years old, a student of Smith-Smoot high school. While most peers confine secrets of love, deceit and disloyalty, my secret is much more straightforward yet outlandish. While most people excel at studies, sports and socialising, I specialise at killing. My name is Jordan McDuff. I was a Special Air Service operator for 2 years, serving alongside members of the Tactical Unit Charlie-Delta 192-388, also known by many as Raven Squad. I have taken part in several major operations, including prevention and direct assaults against attempts of terrorism in significant parts of the UK and France.

My name is Jordan McDuff, and I am...

"An absolute weirdo..." I sigh as I make myself comfortable in my seat, the classroom both empty and unorthodoxly tranquil.

As per usual, I am early. Too early. So early that it's still dark outside. And in the classroom. The lights aren't even on, as the teacher isn't and won't be here for a while. I stretch and glance at my wristwatch, which reveals the time to be around 7:29 am. I sigh once more as I reach for my Pokemon-themed backpack. I retrieve my laptop, quickly opening the lid. The laptop's immediate white glare, being in a dark room, nearly singes my eyes out, almost reminiscent of plenty of failed flashbang attempts during my career. After recovering my vision, I begin analysing my school schedule for the year, as well as the classmates I will be working with. I immediately noticed a few prominent names; James Middleton, son of Tosh Middleton, CEO of the Marché Private Military group. Mercenaries, in other words. Lucy Latten, daughter and heir to the Latten Coffee Industry, is one of the biggest of its kind in Europe and parts of America. I chuckle and continue to "browse" the list until I am rudely interrupted by the sudden switching of the lights. My eyes are blinded once more. I wince and look to see the teacher standing at the door, hand on the switch, the rest of the class behind her.

"Hello... are you new here?" the teacher asks, her thin figure striding into the room.

I try to speak, but am instantly reminded of my inability to properly communicate with others, let alone the opposite gender. All I can muster is a nod. She curiously glances at me and my setup, and speaks again.

"I don't know if you are aware, but students are not allowed to enter the classroom before the teacher has arrived. I have no idea how you got in, considering the door was locked." I wince internally. I had lockpicked the door. I was impatient and miserable out in the hallway. The classroom had a heater. I nod, acknowledging this newly obtained information, while the rest of my classmates begin to find their seats in the classroom. Someone immediately stands to my left, his shadow looming over my computer. I glance over my shoulder to see a boy around my age, if not less, given his soft features make him almost appear feminine. He plops into his chair and introduces himself without me even asking.

"Hey mate! Name's Mark, but you can call me Marky Mark the 3rd." I blink, his smile almost seeming both stupid and childlike. I don't think I will call you either, I think to myself. I nod, acknowledging his presence. Seeming satisfied with my response begins to pepper me with questions. "So, where're you from? Which school you transfer from? Are you in any clubs? Anyone you like the look of?" I sigh. He's certainly the loud type. Wonderful. I prepare to give him a cold stare, only to notice he's already gone off to converse with other classmates. Typical loudmouths. Gone as soon as the conversation dies. I take out the rest of my class essentials from my bag, not noticing someone had just sat to the right of me. I look up to see a girl dressed in our uniform, a small smile on her face.