Caitlin Brooks: Grace Cameron

Chapter One

Grace left her sociology class. She heard the scurry of students entering the building she had just left as she moved across the courtyard.
"Miss Cameron?" An official voice called from behind her, breaking her out of the mental list of things she had to do that she was compiling.
"Yes. How can I help you?"
"We have a job offer for you"
"A job offer?"
"For a special FBI position. Covert behavioural mapping of criminals of interest to the United States" Grace thought for a moment, looking over the two men in front of her.
"I'll take it" she nodded.

The next few weeks passed by like a blur, one minute she was sitting in her class, then she was graduating, then she was driving to a parking lot in the middle of the night to meet her handler. Grace saw a man smoking by his car, she pulled her car into a spot and climbed out.
"Cameron?" He asked as she rounded her car, moving closer to him.
"Yes, Grace" she offered a small smile.
"George Franks. I'll be your handler" he dropped his cigarette onto the cement, crushing it under his shoe before he reached into his jacket and passed her the phone he retrieved.
"What's this for?"
"It's a burner. Next time we meet I'll call you on it, then you'll smash it"
"Got it" she nodded, slipping the phone into her jacket pocket.
"We take whatever assignments come to us. You'd better not have anything tying you down because we could end up anywhere on the face of the earth" he told her, seeing her tense up when he motioned travel.
"My mother is a diplomat. We've lived all over the world"
"You won't be rubbing elbows with anyone like that so don't worry about your cover"
"What's my alias?"
"You'll get a new one with each case. You'll memorize everything. Any holes and they see right through it" he warned, seeing her tense again "Where did they pull you from? The academy?"
"Yale actually"
"They sent a green one" he sighed.
"I may look like an intellectual but I assure you, I can take care of myself"
"Do you know how to fire a gun? Or how to tell what weapons are in a crate just from looking at it? Or how to get a criminal to open up?" He scoffed when she remained silent. He turned back to his car, opening the door when her voice stopped him.
"4 years of behavioural science and 4 years of sociology. The rest I can learn because what my file doesn't say is that I was raped at age 8 until I was 12. I overdosed at 18. I know pain and I know secrets. Your team needs me because I can profile a person in less than 20 seconds and from spending two minutes with you, I can already tell that you dislike your job and you underestimate me because you think I'll screw this up for you, but I won't. You also smoke two packs of cigarettes a day" she assured him. After a moment, a wide smile crossed his lips.
"I think they'll like you. Simon especially. He dishes out as much shit as he can, don't take it. He'll respect you more for the fight" she nodded, moving closer to the car as he climbed inside.
"Any other words of advice?" She spoke to him through the open window.
"Fight. From what you've told me your good at that" she stepped back as he sped off, the wheels of his car screeching before he disappeared into the night.

A few days later Grace was heading into a bar late at night. George had called her on the phone and given her a location, after the call ended she smashed the phone like he had told her to. The bar was in a backstreet, from the outside it looked like the kind of place that criminals frequented and the inside was no better. Grace moved through the bar, eventually spotting George at a table in the back with three others.
"George" she nodded. The only woman at the table looked up at her and froze.
"We go by surnames, Cameron" he reminded her.
"You said it was a guy" the woman bit at him.
"I never said that. You assumed" he bit back.
"You said we wouldn't have another girl" she murmured, slumping back in her seat in anger.
"Ignore her" another man smiled "I'm Simon Clover, sweetheart" he winked at her "And that grump is Clara James"
"Elliot Davenport. Ignore him, he flirts with everyone" the kinder man smiled and shook her hand.
"Take a seat and a shot" Franks ordered gently. Grace slipped into the booth and took the shot quickly, not letting the burning liquid stay long.
"Damn. I think I'm in love" Clover smirked.
"Fuck off" Grace bit.
"We have an assignment" Franks announced, cutting through Clover's bullshit (like he always did).
"Who?" James asked.
"Matteo Bianchi"
"Never heard of him" Grace spoke up.
"You aren't supposed to" Davenport told her.
"The good criminals, and I mean the real good ones aren't on any official radars" Clover told her.
"So why is he?"
"He slipped up, one of his men wanted out, it doesn't matter. We just have to bring him down" Clover told her.
"What's the play?" Davenport asked.
"Same as always. James goes in the rest of you watch from the shadows, teach Cameron how it works. When the opportunity presents itself let Cameron get close, I want her to build a profile" Franks ordered.
"She's not going in?" James asked.
"Not yet. We have to train her first" Franks told her, earning a glare from Clara in return as well as a curse word under her breath.
"This is going to be fun" Clover smirked widely before he downed another shot.
"Fuck me" Grace groaned, downing her own shot along with everyone else around the table.