Short Snippets

💡📙Spy Story📙 💡

Most people think that being a spy must be really fun, makes you look cool and means you can zipline from one building to another whilst keeping your shades on.
But I know the truth. The movies make it look a lot more fun than it actually is.
The truth?
It means you never get to sleep without one eye open. You always have to be aware in public. And, most importantly, even the slightest slipup can get you killed.

Spies are trained in England at Oakfield school.

Is inspired by the "Gallagher Girls" book series by Ally Carter.

Excerpt:
"Hey Gordon Girl," he smirked.

I rolled my eyes,
"Haha, very funny. You Zach wannabe."

Oh yea, sure, I've heard all about the Gallagher Girl Academy. I've read all of Agent Morgan's report back to front and memorised them since I was four years old, but of course back then they were disguised as a made-up spy story. I even met her once on a mission in Uganda. Age 28 and she was still 'together' with Agent Zachary Goode. Of course, that's what she told me, but I saw her playing with a phantom ring on her finger, noticed the way she smiled when she said 'together'. No doubt they were married, but keeping it under wraps to protect one another. After all, being spy is difficult enough when you're alone. Add in a spouse and then they have an even bigger target on their backs.

Christopher spoke again, his low voice interrupting my thoughts,
"Yea yea, hardyhar and all that. But I don't see a problem with following the example of one of the best agents in the biz."

I only crossed my arms with a disbelieving,
"Mhm."

His green eyes twinkled and he smiled mischievously,
"And, well, come on. Admit it, their story is so romanti-"

A flash in the bell tower behind him.
Before the sound of the gunshot even reached us, instinct and training took over.
I swept Chris off his feet, literally, with a well-aimed kick to his knees, and shoved him out of the way, just in time for the bullet to come whizzing over his head, and straight into my shoulder.

Bloody heck that hurts.
You know how in most stories people say that it is painless and they would gladly do it again?
Hell no. If I knew taking a bullet for someone hurt this bad I would so not have done it.

I had no time to think about it though, because Christopher, quick as a flash, grabbed me like a sack of potatoes and ran undercover.
I gritted my teeth against each wave of pain that washed over me with each jolt.

He gently place on the ground, and I tried not to miss the warm feel of his arms around me. He tore his jacket off and ripped the sleeve off, tightly bandaging my shoulder. I tried to smirk but just ended up grimacing,
"You were saying?"

He ignored me, rapidly saying,
"Come on Em, we gotta get out of here, that Sniper isn't going to just stay where they are."

"Escape routes?" I asked, wincing as I pulled myself upright, trying my best not to faint from the pain. Nausea, caused by the extreme pain, began to assail me.

Chris, without missing a beat, responded,
"I count four. Now if we can just-"
"Chris?"
"Yea?"
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"This." I said, then proceeded to vomit all over his shirt.
"Ew!" Chris gagged.
"What? Can't handle a bit of vomit, tough guy?" I teased, feeling giddy from pain.

Chris could obviously tell, and he lowered his voice to a soft whisper,
"Look, Emily. I know you don't feel too good right now, but we gotta get out of here, okay?"

"I'm dizzy and in a sh*t-ton of pain right now so we better make this quick. Oh, and, by the way who the frick did you piss off enough that they want you killed!?"

He gave a nervous chuckle and placed a hand on the back of his neck,
"Let's just say there's a few people on that list."

"Dammit Chris!"

He smirked and pointed to himself,
"Spy."

"Okay you've got to stop doing that. It was cute at first but now it's just annoying."

"Cute, huh?" He teased, but I could tell he was distracted as he scanned our environment, I could see the worry in his eyes.
It was then that I realised he was trying to distract me from my pain, trying to stop me from worrying. I felt my heart melt at his concern.