British Exchange Agent

Chapter 9

"Bit far from home."

The low, taunting voice to my right whistled in my ear, daring me to move. I kept my eyes fixed in front of me, the machine inside of me activated. All of the voices in my head were silenced.

"We don't like strangers around here." The man spoke again, barely audible. I kept my breathing regular.

Three. Two. One.

Without any warning, I robotically swung my right arm towards his gun, grabbing the barrel. My left hand slammed down on his in less than a second, forcing his arm to crash to the floor. Flipping the gun around, I pointed the weapon at his head.

In one. Fluid. Movement.

I kept my expression emotionless as he swallowed, his eyes bulging in shock. They drifted down over my jaw, settling on the multicoloured, abstract painting of a bruise. His crouched form sunk lower at my glacier eyes.

"Listen closely, because I'm only going to say this once." I told him, keeping my voice hushed.

"You did not see me. You did not hear me. Not one word will come out of your mouth."

He took a deep breath in. I placed the gun on his forehead.

"Shout and you will lose your ability to speak."

He closed his mouth, swallowing. I would never kill someone, but he didn't need to know that.

"I am going to leave, and you are going to wait fifteen minutes before exiting this building. If I feel like I'm being followed...well, let's just hope it doesn't come to that." I flashed him a cold smile.

He nodded slowly, his breaths coming out in shallow gasps. I stood up gradually, the gun fixed on my opponent, and edged backwards towards the exit. His eyes bore into mine as I slipped outside, scanning the perimeter.

Nothing.

Flicking the safety back on, I shoved the barrel of the gun in the pocket of my shorts. I quietly made my way down the street, keeping to the dark corners, and stopped at the corner. I glanced behind me to ensure that the man wasn't on my tail, before breaking into a sprint.

My feet pounded against the tarmac as I ran, my heart thumping in my chest. The heat hounded me, and I grimaced, still unused to America's climate.

I ran for nineteen minutes, until the creeping feeling inside of me grew unbearable. Coming to a halt at the school gates, I listened silently.

Footsteps.

They slapped against the ground menacingly. I growled, looking around, but no-one was in sight. I swiftly dashed through the gates, my eyes darting around the car park.

Relief shot through me when they landed on Aaron's car, parked bang in the middle. A sense of urgency threatened to strangle me as I sprinted over to it, crouching next to the driver's side.

I ripped the grip in my hair out, before snapping it in two. Bending one into an L shape, I inserted it into the lock, before carefully jamming in the second. The hammer of footsteps grew louder as they approached, pleading my fingers to move faster.

I expertly maneuvered the hair grip around before hearing the satisfying click. Yanking out the metal grips, I stuffed them in my pocket and wrenched the door open, hurling myself in. I closed the door softly behind me, keeping my head low as the sound of angry voices filled the car park.

I pressed my body against the leather seats, lifting my head up a fraction to peek out of the window. The man from earlier and one of Hatrov's clones were frantically searching around, their eyes as sharp as blades.