The Life and Lies of Zara York

One

The street was silent save for the light patter of rain and the echo of my footsteps. Anger continued to burn through me as I walked down the empty road, a backpack stuffed with my few belongings over my shoulder.

    This wasn't the first time I'd run away from home. Living with a stepmother like Lillian, an annoying stepbrother, and a bratty stepsister, it was a wonder I hadn't murdered them all yet. Cruel and unyielding, my "family" had been tormenting me since my father died. Three years ago, he was discovered dead in his office, face down on the ground, a knife in his chest and his window wide open. They declared it a suicide, though deep down I knew that something else had happened. I never got the chance to investigate further however. Lillian pounced on me the second my father stopped breathing, and made my life a living hell ever since.

    So there I was, walking down the dark road for what I hoped would be the last time. The argument that caused me to leave had only lasted maybe ten minutes, but my mind had been made up before it even began. I had long since grown sick of the labor and torture my stepmother put me through. I had left her in her tyrannical state, my bag already packed, and ran out the door.

    The rain was beginning to ease, and in its place a fog began to swirl. I didn't know where I was going or what I should do. My only thought was to get as far away from my old house.

    As I continued down the road, I caught a glimpse of a figure, lurking just outside a circle of light given off by a nearby streetlamp. I slowed my pace, my heart beating a little faster. As I got closer, the figure split into two, three, no four figures. I stopped altogether, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.

Just go to the other side of the street, I thought to myself, but before I could move one of the figures stepped forward into the yellow glow of the streetlamp, his bald head gleaming.

    "What's a pretty young thing like you doing out all alone at this time of night?" his grin was twisted as he looked me up and down hungrily.

    Feigning irritation I replied, "I'm not interested in whatever you plan on doing, so leave me alone before you do something you'll regret." This was met with chuckles from the other three. The bald man's companions moved into the light behind him. One was enormously fat, the second seemed to be only muscle, and the last man had to be at least 6"8.

    The bald one spoke again, "What's in the bag sweetheart." They began to surround me, backing me into an alleyway with their sick smiles. My heart was pounding now, my brain panicking, my eyes searching for any possible escape or weapon. Then an idea came to mind.

    "C'mon lil' lady we ain't gonna hurt ya." Said the fat one. Time. I needed to stall to give myself enough time to reach into my bag discreetly.

    "You really don't want to be doing this." I said, my voice calm. Though in reality adrenaline was coursing through me.

    "Oh? And why is that?" They had me pressed against the wall now, but my hand had found the hilt of my knife.

    "Jim hold her." The fat one said. The muscly man grabbed my shoulders, holding firm. For a second I thought they had seen me grasping for my knife, but I was relieved to see their focus remained on me and not arm reaching discreetly behind me.

    "Just give us the bag and we'll let you go darling." Said the bald man.

    Now was the time.

    I yanked my knife out, slashing the muscly one's hands in the process. He roared in pain as the blood began dripping down his arm. He let go of me to cradle his bleeding hands and I took that opportunity to kick him down to the ground. The other three pounced on me, the fat one hooking an arm around my neck, the other two whipping out guns.

    "Stop moving." The bald one growled. Like hell. I lifted my feet off the ground, forcing the fat man to struggle to support the entirety of my body weight. Unable to, his hold loosened just enough for me to slide out from his hold. I whipped around and punched him in the face. An audible crack sounded as his nose broke. He fell to the ground, unconscious. I checked to see the state of the first man, he was still on the ground clutching his hands and moaning. I must have cut him deep.

    Then I whipped back around and kicked the bald one between the legs. As he fell to the ground in pain, the tall one grabbed my arms, attempting to grab the knife in the process. We wrestled for a few seconds before I kicked in his knee. As he bent to clutch his injured knee, I brought my own knee into his face. He too collapsed, unconscious.

    The bald man was recovering from the kick to his groin. Looking around me, I saw a large piece of brick from the crumbling wall of the alley. I grabbed it and smashed it into his temple. He fell to the ground instantly. Turning around I saw the muscly man on the ground, drenched in his own blood, barely conscious. He would pass out soon from all the blood loss. He no longer posed a threat. The one who's nose I'd broken was beginning to sit up, blood gushing from his nose.

    I hit him across the head with the brick and he fell back down.

    I was panting heavily, sweat and blood mixing on my face. The tall man must have cut me in our wrestle for the knife.

    I stood there for a second, catching my breath. I nearly screamed when a man's voice behind me spoke.

    "That was impressive I must say."

    I whipped around, holding my knife at the ready. A man wearing a suit leaned casually against the entrance of the alley. He was tall, well-groomed, and looked to be in his late 30's, early 40's.

    "Who are you?" I asked, glaring suspiciously, waiting for him to make a move to attack.

    "Well I'm not someone who's going to hurt you. As for my identity? Well unfortunately that's classified. Until you enroll at least."

    "What do you mean, classified? Enroll in what? What do you want from me?"

    He chuckled, "I am willing to answer all of these questions and more. Walk with me."

    Go for a walk in the dark with some strange man who seems to be talking nonsense? Yes that sounds like a perfectly splendid idea. Noticing the look I gave him the man said, "I know you have no reason to trust me, but I promise I'm not here to hurt you. Look. No weapons. Nothing."

    He patted his pockets and opened his suit jacket to show me. He indeed carried no weapons.

    I blew out a short breath. "Fine." He didn't seem to pose a threat, and I was curious about this 'classified' talk and 'enrolling'. I lowered my knife but continued to grip it firmly at my side.

    "Wonderful. Let's walk this way shall we?" He led me down the street to the nearby park.

    "Well let me start at the beginning. What I do for a living is one of the world's most dangerous and top secret professions. Hence my classified identity. You see my job involves recruiting eligible people for training. To become a spy. I work at the MI6 Developmental Training Headquarters."
    I stared at him, almost scared to believe what he was saying. Spy. He was a spy. He wanted me to be a spy.

    "We've been monitoring you for some time now, Zara, and you've proven yourself to be more than qualified for a position at our school."

"How do you know my name?"

"My dear, we are the most elite spy network in the world. We know what toothpaste brand each person in the entire country of England uses. Believe me, names are not a problem"

"So... this school...it really exists?"

"Indeed. We have a campus located in a top secret remote location. There, you will be trained in many different areas of skill. Code, Self Defense, etc. Though self defense may be a short unit for you. Taking on four grown men single-handedly, well, that's not a feat many can accomplish without sufficient training."

      I was silent for a minute, thinking. I had nowhere else to go. No family I could contact. I was alone in the world. And this man, providing he was telling the truth, was offering me my life back. A spy. I would become a spy.

"When do I leave?"

"Right now."

To be continued...