Bitter Sweet

The fu- is Mercenary mean!?

Chapter 3

I was stranded in an alleyway. I just killed a man. Huge shocker for me, especially since he tried to get into my pants. And yes, that happened to be sarcasm. To say it bluntly, I knocked his sorry ass out.

At first I thought that was all I did, but I aimed wrong and his face kinda, sorta, caved.

I sincerely felt sorry for the poor sod and teared up a bit. HA! Not exactly, I was more pissed that he got blood on my shoes. Okay...I know I have a serious problem with emotions but there is more important things to worry about. Like where can I hide this old farts body.

Questions, questions.

It wasn't exactly my fault, I happened to be underage, drunk, scared, and have serious emotional problems. I can already hear you judge. How I'm a heartless b*tch, who is just exaggerating or worse, an attention whore.

I assure you, I am definentally not an attention whore. I am possibly a b*tch, but it depends on who you're asking.

I dragged his body behind the garbage can and hid all signs that a four foot nine and a half, thirteen year old is a cold hearted murderer, and has small feet.

No one would have found out if the douche wasn't an agent. Undercover agents from the FBI themselves hunted me down, when they realized how small I was, they started to get ideas.

Get your head out of the gutter. No they figured they could train me to be a hunter and maybe work for them when I'm older.

Finally they realized they got a scary situation on their hands. Some how a young girl killed an older man who had a high paying job and did away with most of the evidence. Oops.

They thought CIA Agent Henry Blake, Asassin and Assassin Trainer, would be able to brain wash me and create the perfect killer.

I seemed innocent, naive, and fragile to fool anyone. I'm a natural born hustler, meaning I can hide my emotions as easily as sleeping. Plus I love to play games. I am a kid of course.

If I was to train and kill, I was to live with a young woman who couldn't have kids and was willing to do the job.

You can imagine my disappointment when I skilled quickly and efficiently at alot of the things I attempted to do.

I like challenges, but the job was becoming too tedious.

If I'm caught, I cannot divulge any info, nor can I stray from the time frames but improvising is strongly urged.

The mark from my parents death still haunted me and so did the feeling of depression.

I started working alone in the feild when I became fifteen and drinking when I was fourteen legally.

They may be the law, but they sure love to bend they're rules.

I'm here to kill mercilessly and to keep druggies, gangsters, rapists, and killers off the streets. I cannot let them win, I want to live and I refuse to back down to let an innocent die.