ILLEGAL

Chapter 2

I gave a screech of frustration, then hurtled my spoon at the wall. It stuck in, handle out. I gasped. I had just accidentally thrown the spoon the way that you throw a knife. I bounced off the bed and pulled it out. It had defiantly made an indent, there was a hole in the wall deep enough to show the room next to mine. "Well shit,"I said, looking at my couch through the wall.

"WHAT WAS THAT?" Chelsea yelled at me. She's my roommate, we both work for G.O.E.S. Where I was a field agent, she was an inventor.

"Nothing!" I responded.

I glanced around the room, trying to find something to cover the hole. I rushed over to the bed, drawing the cover off than stuffed it in the hole. I stepped back, looking at my work. It looked terrible. Whatever.

I turned back to my laptop sitting on my bed. The screen dimmed itself to save power. I flopped down, scribbling my finger over the mouse to awaken it. I had been staring at this list for and hour and a half, and nothing had come to me. And that's something.

It was the list of the people had been murdered by the Fly. 'The Fly' was what they called the murderer, because he would swarm the person for hours, sometimes even the whole day, and when he commited the murder, he would leave without a trace. Plus he's super hard to find and kill.

I looked at the list of the victims again. It was very aggravating. There was absolutely nothing to similar between them. I sighed, slamming the laptop screen closed. I need to get this frustration out.

I quickly changed, putting on a black tank top and dark skinny jeans. I laced up my favorite combat boots, which I always wore to do anything not particularly fancy. I tied my hair back in a high ponytail just to get it out of the way, then looked at myself in the mirror.

The young woman I saw was interesting to look at. My eyes were a shocking gray, some people say that they stared deep into your soul. I had glossy black hair that if down, went all the way to my lower back. My skin was pale, my lips full. I was an average size, not tall nor short, but defiantly muscular. Yet, not like a freak, just enough to be an agent.

I glanced down at my hands, my palms facing towards me. They were calluses after a couple of years in shooting guns, climbing walls, and multiple other things. I turned away from the mirror, grabbing my bag as I ran by it. I dashed through the kitchen, clutching my motorbike keys.

Chelsea was drinking her morning coffee, her blonde hair like a lions mane from just waking up."Where are you going?"She asked.

I turned and grinned at her."I'll be at the gym." She rolled her eyes before taking a sip of her coffee."See ya later."

I swung the door open. I got in my motorcycle. As I drove, I rolled down my windows and turned my radio up full blast. I received annoyed looks from drivers around me, but who cares? They should love my music.

I mouthed the words to the songs I knew, changing the channel otherwise. I parallel parked along the street. I checked into the gym, then headed to my favorite, the punching bag. I didn't need gloves, I just hit it over and over again, my fist connecting with the heavy material. Again and again, I pulled back my arm so it was horizontal, slightly twisting my hips, then drove it back into the bag.

Eventually I continued to the leg, either thrusting my knee into the middle or kicking a foot hard the same place. I was working up a sweat, pouring my energy and anger into the punching bag. I took a minute break, pausing to get water.

As I screwed the top back on, I noticed that to the right of me, the man was struggling with his hits. I set down my bottle, then slowly walked towards him. He stopped when I approached, saying in a deep voice,"What do you want?"

I glanced at his knuckles. They were scraped up in the wrong places, clearly showing he had not been doing it right."I was just coming over to give you tips, you see, I think it's best to..." I began to demonstrate the correct way to punch, but he interrupted me.

"No thank you, I don't need your help, lady." He began to grind his fists into the punching bag again. I felt my eyebrows go up, and I thought, Oh it's on.

"You obviously do,"I said, coming to stand on the other side of him.

His face turned red, anger beginning to boil into his emotions. He was getting mad at me. Perfect. He growled at me,"I am the star of the school wrestling team. I don't need help from anyone, much less a girl."

That was the last straw."Why don't we go settle it in the ring then? You know,"I gestured towards the boxing ring."See who actually knows more about martial arts."

He held his hands up in defense."Look, lady, I don't wanna make you cry, so I'll go easy on ya."

I swung my bag over my shoulder and walked over, he followed me."Oh, please, there will be no need for that. Go as hard as you may like."

He gave a cruel grin. We were in the ring now, and he cracked his fingers."Alright lets do this, get it over with." He gave a count-down and then the match begun.

He shuffled towards me, while I casually just walked to him. People had already begun gathering around to watch. He swung a punch towards my face, yet I simply dodged it by leaning to the left. At his next attempt to hit me, I closed my hand around his fist, then twisted it around to his back.

He cried out in pain, and I drove him forward into the elastic strips of the ring. As I let go and he bounced back, I dropped flat on my stomach and swiped my feet underneath his legs, making his knees buckle. He landed flat on his back, and I quickly jumped on top of him so that my knee pinned him to the floor, with my hand pressing his face to the matted ground as well.

I held him there, and he didn't dare make a move. As I stood up, The crowds mouths were wide open and the man was looking at me in sheer confusion. "What the..."He began, but I was already ducking under the ropes. I swooped my bag onto my shoulder and began to leave before turning to him. I wet my lips and gave a sweet smile."I would recommend you take my advice." I said before pushing the door open and exiting.

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