Just Nina!
- Reads 89
- Votes 1
- Parts 4
Ongoing<5 mins
Last published Sat, Jun 9, 2018
I peeked over the bathroom stall waiting for the girls to finish talking.
...
"JESUS CHRIST!" I shouted as I stepped into the toilet.
"Crap," I said under my breath. Good going, Nina!
"Who's there?" The girl said.
"Umm..." I stuttered "Nina Lance."
"Who?" She asked.
The other girl stepped in.
"Don't worry, it's just Nina. Nobody will believe her."
"Yup," I thought "just Nina!"
--------
What happens when people at Nina's high school start being killed off by the minute?
Well, in Nina's case, she receives a phone call from the N.U.T.S.A.A.K (National, United, Teacher, Student, Association, Against, Killers) and is recruited to be a spy to find out who killed the 14 innocent students at her school.
Oh, I almost forgot! She's also being hunted down by a killer, and, no offense but, Nina is probably the least skilled agent in the whole world.
And... she has to juggle her secret identity (Nina Lance) and her detective identity (Ariana Benson).
All while being recruited by accident. (Poor N.U.T.S.A.A.K.)
DUN, DUN, DUN!!! (#missionimpossible)
Ouch! Nina!
(I'd like to take a moment to thank @MsHellhrt and @GraphicRegne for the beautiful cover and all the hard work it took to make it!)
All Rights Reserved
#607
cringeworthy
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'The night was alive with silence. I moved through it like a shadow, black leather gloves tight on my hands, boots soft against the grass. My gas mask hid my face, leaving only darkness where my eyes should be. The world narrowed to a single point: the house ahead. Tonight, it would belong to me. The farmhouse rose stark and white beneath the moonlight, silent except for the occasional grunt of a pig or the low hum of a cow. They were unaware. They were insignificant. I crouched behind the hedge, eyes scanning, senses alert. Every detail mattered: the flicker of light across the curtains, the faint rustle of movement inside, the way a shadow shifted across the floor. She was there. Oblivious. Popcorn in hand, murmuring to herself as the television flickered. Every motion was a note in tonight's symphony, and I was the conductor. I studied her, cataloging. Timing. Patterns. Fear. She didn't notice me yet, and that was perfect. Patience was everything. One sound, one misstep, and it could all unravel. I rang the doorbell once. Silence. Again. Still nothing. She flinched slightly, just enough to make my pulse quicken. Her small reaction was delicious. A sudden movement in the yard caught my eye-a neighbor's dog barking at some unseen intruder. Its voice was loud, startling, but contained. I froze. My breath slowed. Patience. Observation. The dog's curiosity would pass. I remained still, hidden in shadow, letting the moment stretch. The animal lost interest and padded away. Perfect. I moved to the back of the house, hammer in hand.' ...
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