In The Crossfire *Meh, IDEK What to do With This*

I just wanna say that this is a fanfic for something my mom wrote so it may not make much sense but I assure you it has a plot and story behind it. See, my mom writes scripts for like, movies and stuff, and has me write fanfics based on them. So this is one based on that. Meaning all rights are reserved and all credit goes to her not me. I wave all praise in this and state that this is her work twisted into my own story, with her express permission. Thanks, hope u like it! She hasn't written names for them yet so I'm using the actors' names as thee characters. Understandable? Good. -CC

Kate’s POV

There are five rules.

1) Never kill or harm children

2) Spare innocents, if possible

3) Never communicate with family unless absolutely necessary

4) Never mix business and pleasure

5) The enemy of my enemy is my friend, temporarily

If you don't obey these five rules, then this isn't the place for you.

That's what the engraved portrait says outside the doors of The Organization. I walk by that inscription every time I go inside from the yard. By every door the same saying is plastered in frames on the walls. I sigh and turn my attention back to Colin, the instructor for how to turn household items into a weapon. "So, did you get all that?" he asks, walking through the rows of adult students on the lawn.

We all say some for of 'yes' and he releases us. I walk over to the wall and see Karen sitting in a glider on the front porch. Colin walks up to her and they start talking like old friends, which they are. I catch her eye and she smiles at me before I continue on my way to language skills.

“How do you say ‘I’ve come here to kill you, move and you die,’ in German, Kate?” the instructor says, loving to put me on the spot.

“Ich bin gekommen, um dich zu töten, zu verschieben und du stirbst.“ I say in a perfect German accent. He nods and continues on. I smile and sit back in my seat. Its like college all over again, only with more action. Next I have a free period so I go over to the hand to hand combat area, one of my sketchier skills, and work with the instructor. Then a runner comes out and tells me Karen would like to see me. I nod and follow him into the big mansion, up two flights of stairs, down a hall, and into Karen’s huge office. She’s currently sitting at a mahogany desk and writing in a notebook, her hand moving across the page faster than light.

“Ah, Kate. How are you dear?” she says, handing the runner a slip of paper before he scurries off on his way.

“Good, Karen. And you?” I reply, standing at attention like they do in the American military.

“Fine, fine. Are you ready to go on a little trip?” she asks me, her face bright and motherly.

“Where and who?” I ask her, not moving from my spot.

She passes me a manila envelope across the desk and I open it, finding the file of a wealthy business man in Canada that needs ‘silenced’. I nod and reseal the folder before exiting her office. I must admit, the pay is good, the travel’s great, and the job is easy. I smirk as I jog down the stairs across the first floor hall and into the “dorms”. I walk into my room and pack my bag, the girl who’s name I never bothered to remember is sitting in her bed across from mine. “Already?” she asks me, her eyes peeking up over the book in her hands.

“Yep.”

“What country?” she asks.

“Classified.” We answer at the same time. One of my own personal rules is that I never tell anyone other than Karen and Colin where I go. Its easier that way, more compact. When I have my bag slung over my shoulder and my suitcase in my hand I trudge out towards the jet.

“Off again?” Colin asks when he sees me in the hall.

“Yeah. Canadian business men. Always Canadians.” I complain jokingly and he chuckles.

“See you when you get back, Kate.” He nods, walking down the hall.

“Later, Colin.” I tell him and then I climb into the jet, taking my seat in the push seat in the belly of the aircraft.

“Where to miss?” the captain calls back to me.

“Canada again. Sadly.” I smile as he starts the plane and we get ready for take off. I sit back and get comfortable in my seat, waiting to get this over with.  Simple shot to the head should work, but that’s too obvious. Something a bit more subtle then. Possibly a knife in the liver or a suicide cover. Maybe even a spiked drink. Depends on the individual guy. I take out his file and read up on the man, the man who’ll be dead in just a few hours.