Ricki swore loudly and tumbled out of his bed.

Luckily he was on his bottom bunk, but to be fair I was two feet in front of him, cross-legged on the floor and absentmindedly staring out the window. The sun was beginning to rise, and if you positioned your head just right then you could see the city in the distance through the branches of the tree that was planted below and in front of the window. The morning sun was probably bringing out the worst of the stitches on my face. The peck of heat that was starting to warm the tattered skin by my right eye was making the threads itchy.

Entangled in his blankets, Ricki stood up and rubbed his face. His curly brown hair stood up in all different angles and his left cheek had a pillow-crease imprint on it.

"You snore," I commented, looking up at his coffee-colored eyes.

He groaned and sat down on his bed as the covers fell off him.

"The fuck?" Sam glared down at me over the side of his bed.

Hunter slowly started to stir awake too and my heart jumped.

If he so much as whispers Owen Hoffmann's name, he's a dead man.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? I couldn't sleep last night because I didn't want to wake up the agents with any screaming from my nightmares, but his words were just another reason to keep my eyes pinned open all night. I had eventually come and sat down in front of the window to see the sunrise, but I kept turning around to check that he hadn't crept up on me.

Flynn also shook awake at Ricardo's outburst, but then his curly brown hair disappeared back under the black covers when he realized he still had a few minutes before Owen came to bang on the doors to get everyone awake.

Dùo stirred too, muttering, "Ruin my precious minutes of sleep again and I'll cut you."

I turned back to look out the window. The boys were worked pretty hard in training, and I just saw the younger agents.

Today James was taking me to the Director's office to get a personal file made. Every agent had one, with their backstories, personal traits, physical state, acquaintances, preferences, previous mission reports, weapons of choice, family history, everything, all to decide who was fit for each mission.

So that will be exciting. Maybe. Probably not. From all that I've heard about him, Flagg sure sounds like he needs a good slap to the face. Or just beheaded.

Suddenly a bang came from the other side of the dorm room door, and I started to hear commotion come from the rooms on either side of us. I jumped at the noise, and my hot breath bounced off the morning frosted glass and hit my nose. I scrambled to my feet. Sam swung over the edge of the top bunk and landed about two inches away from me and I stiffened. He was tall, tan, with devious freckles coiling around his nose and under his eyes.

He started to say, "Morning—"

"If you say 'sweetheart,' this time I'll bash your nuts in," Dùo interrupted Sam's greeting. He swung his legs over the side of his mattress and rubbed his short spiky hair.

Sam gritted his teeth, bit his bottom lip and silently fumed.

"He's right," I glared up at him. "Touch me and I shave your head."

I walked back to my own bed, which was unfortunately closer to Hunter. The Australian got up and started to dress like last night hadn't happened. He didn't even glance in my direction. I had already put on new clothes underneath the covers of my bed before all the boys had woken up, afraid of what would happen if I did it in front of all of them. Axel had said the agents should keep their hands to themselves, and I hope Sam's bloody nose yesterday morning would enforce that, but I wasn't a particularly trusting person.

After being a hitman for the scientists, being experimented on and treated like an attack dog, I don't think I'll ever trust any person ever again. Well, except Axel. He was different. I hoped that the doctors here would be able to get the tech out of me as soon as possible, so I could stop worrying about getting shocked every 15 minutes and stop some of the horrific migraines I'd been having.

-

Hunter shut the door behind us as we left for breakfast. The rest of our roommates were a few feet in front of me, talking with agents from other dorms as they had come out. Our door was the last to close.

"Remember what we talked about?"

I jumped. Hunter had materialized next to me, having caught up without a sound. His breath dusted the short strands of hair by my ears, carrying his voice and his words directly to my brain as if he had yelled them at me. I looked over and up to him. He was tall, with earthy brown hair that had blended into the dark perfectly last night. His matching eyes portrayed no feeling. I must have hesitated because he stopped walking and clawed out a hand to grab my arm and yank me back too. "Answer me," he commanded.

I yanked my arm out of his grasp. "Don't touch me."

"Feisty," he commented.

"I'm not feisty I just don't care for people's shit," I hissed.

He smiled. "I'm asking you, to tell me, when Strider trips up. At all. Flinches, breaks down, stiffens, hesitates, says something that doesn't quite add up, does anything... out of the ordinary."

I squinted at him. "I've known the guy for a day how the hell am I supposed to know what ordinary is?"

"Something tells me you're intuitive."

"And something tells me that you can do this on your own."

"You don't realize the minefield you've been dropped into have you?" He asked, eyes glittering like onyx. He leaned in closer to me again. "Lawrence didn't tell you did he?"

"Stop trying to make me feel like a child," I responded in an even tone. "Axel told me everything he thought was important. You can spy on James as much as you want without my help, so this conversation doesn't feel very relevant." I turned to keep walking down the hallway.

He caught my forearm again. "I'm not in as much of a valuable position as you are for an operation of this particular magnitude." His voice turned just the slightest bit desperate.

I turned back to him. "Figure it out on your own Hunter; I don't know what the hell you're talking about, I don't want to be a part of any sort of 'operation' you're stuck doing, and I am not a mindless, fearful dog that you can exploit and employ to do your bidding." I snatched my arm out of his nails. "Not anymore."

His face turned stony as I left him standing in the empty hallway and continued on my way.

"Wonder why you didn't see Lawrence yesterday?" He called out.

I stopped walking. Don't turn around, don't turn around, don't you dare turn--

I slowly turned on my heel. Hunter had his hands shoved in his pockets a few doors down. "Flagg sent him out on a mission. He won't be back for a few weeks," he said. My insides churned. Weeks? I barely lasted a day without him! Weeks?! "I can make it longer if you like," he said. I narrowed my eyes. "Just casually mention to some people your reliance on him, eventually it will make its way to Flagg, especially since he'll have his little assistant following you now that you're upstairs." He was referring to Owen I guessed. Something boiled inside me at his words. "I saw how much you relied on him, how much you changed the minute he left the room yesterday. How you hid behind him, stood the closest to him." He started approaching me again. "Pity if something were to happen to you and he wasn't around."

"You're not seriously threatening me are you?" I asked once he'd stopped getting closer.

"No, I'm merely... flexing. Trying to make you reconsider." He smiled.

I ran my tongue slowly over my teeth. Why was he doing this? He was almost six years older than me. So why did he need me to spy on James? I'm not a spy. Yet. And all for what? Revenge? There wasn't enough anger in his eyes. Ambition? Possibly. He was a level 8, and James a level 9 even though he was about three years younger. That could be it.

But like I gave a shit about why he was a murderous lunatic.

I inhaled deeply. Axel said I'd be fine without him around, and while I didn't believe in myself, I believed him. "I'm not reconsidering. I don't care what 'minefield' I've been 'dropped into,' but I don't care. I'm only here so I don't slaughter anyone else in their sleep, and I can quit that mentality as easily as snapping my fingers so..." I trailed off and admired Hunter's change in expression. His glare had sharpened and his fists tensed in his pockets. "Get fucked, okay?"

I turned away from him and walked the rest of the way down to the dining hall where the rest of the boys were congregating for breakfast.

-

"Have I been dropped into a minefield?" I asked Blitzen quietly. I had entered the clamoring cafeteria at as inconspicuous of a pace as I could. Metal trays clanged together, and voices congealed into one loud buzz in my head. That didn't help the migraine. I tried not to stare back at the boys who turned their heads when I came in. You would think spies would at least try and be subtle, but no.

Today I wasn't as socially nervous as yesterday, more like nervously curious. It was something about Hunter that chilled me to my bones when he said James would be a dead man if he even mentioned Owen's name. Probably because I had no doubt that he'd actually kill one of them. He's killed before, I could see it in his eyes. I knew the look. I'd seen it in a mirror.

I slid into the empty chair next to Blitzen at a table of boys about his same age. The Englishman choked on a forkful of scrambled eggs in surprise.

"The hell are you going on about?" He asked back after he started breathing again. He turned to face me with his blond mini-mohawk-type hair freshly washed.

"Hunter Martin—"

"Shit, you listened to that thug?"

"He's in my dorm room."

Blitzen picked up a slice of toast. "Bloody fantastic pairing that was."

"He wants me to spy on James."

Blitzen set down his toast. "What do you mean 'spy?'"

"If James doesn't tell me where he's going or where he's been, if he just acts... weird, Hunter wants me to tell him." I shifted and engulfed my kneecaps with the palms of my hands. The black fabric soaked up the buds of sweat that were starting to culminate in my palms.

Blitzen shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He put his elbows on the table. "Shit," he whispered as he rubbed his temples.

"What?" I asked him quietly.

He cracked his knuckles and turned to face me again. "I get why Lawrence didn't tell you."

"He's on a mission," I said, looking down at my hands. Yesterday, knowing that Axel was just around somewhere made being chucked back into society at least a little more bearable. I really wanted to see him last night and tell him about my day but I couldn't find him. Now I had no idea where he was and how long he'd be gone for.

"Yeah no shit," Blitzen said, rolling his light blue eyes. "If he wasn't he'd be the one falling victim to your puppy dog eyes and telling you what happened to James' knee."

I tilted my head, confused. "Huh? What does Hunter have to do with that? I thought James got hurt on a mission or something." Around us more conversations had started to swell as more boys came to tables with trays of food.

Blitzen lowered his voice. "He didn't hurt it on a mission. It was here in the agency. And it was done on purpose."

I drew back my head. "What? Why? How?"

Blitzen sunk his shoulders and started rubbing his temples again. "It's far too early for that many questions. Especially when the answers to all of them are gonna make you want to cry."

Now I was bewildered. "Cry?" I straightened up and placed my palms flat on the table. "I'm still confused what this has to do with Hunter."

"Hunter Martin?" Blitzen and I both jumped at the new voice. "You listened to that asshole?" James yawned and dropped in the empty seat on my right. He had a metal tray with an orange and two small sausages on it. He picked the orange up and started to peel it.

Blitzen and I glanced at each other. "Uh, no she didn't listen to him," he started. "I was just telling her not to." He eyed me and then picked up his toast and shoved the whole thing in his mouth to prevent joining the conversation.

I turned to James on my other side. "Aren't we getting a file made for me this morning?"

The redhead nodded. "Yeah, but that's with Flagg and I know you haven't met him yet but I suggest doing that after eating." He carved the whites of his orange off the fruit with his nail. "More chance to throw up on his shoes."

I looked around us. Nobody else was in line to pile food that was sitting warm in metal dishes onto trays. James must have been the last one and had gotten the remains —two puny, misshapen sausages and a pathetic dried-out orange. Meanwhile I had nothing at all, but it was only because I had dinner last night. That would last me a good 24 hours since I wasn't used to having three meals a day yet.

I turned my eyes back to James. He was munching on one of the slices of his orange with content. I tried not to look to my other side where Blitzen had gotten caught up in a new conversation. I wanted to finish the one we'd been having, about what the hell the condition of James's knee had to do with why Hunter wanted me to spy on the guy.

I had been upstairs for exactly one day, and already it seemed more dangerous than being locked in that prison in the basement for a week.

-

"Are you wondering what he's like?" James asked me grimly. We started up a flight of stairs to the Director's office. I could tell the redhead was trying to hold in grimaces as he limped up the steps so I slowed my pace a little.

I shrugged a shoulder silently in response to his question. The Director was pretty faceless to me, up until now just this mysterious man with the smallest of emotions surrounding him that everyone seemed to hate. James himself had told me not to trust him, and Axel's cold bitterness whenever he brought him up made him seem like a swell guy.

We reached the next level and carpet started to layer the floor instead of tile like on the hallways outside the training rooms and in the cafeteria. It was a long hallway, with windowless doors branching off in both directions. Axel had said that these were the briefing rooms, where agents were told mission details, and then were debriefed after they came back.

James didn't say anything. However his body movement changed as we approached the very last door on the right side of the hallway. He rolled his shoulders back and wrung his hands together.

"Do I look him in the eye?" I asked.

"No."

James knocked on the door. We waited almost a minute but there was no response.

"There's no guards here," he whispered to the door. He looked at me. "There's always guards here."

I stared back at him. I hadn't plotted to assassinate Flagg yet.

He tried knocking again but no response. Then the sophisticated lock over the doorknob clicked and James pushed the door open.

I moved to follow him into the office but I slammed right into his back instead. He'd stopped short and stopped breathing.

"Owen?" Came his voice.

I couldn't see into the office since James was still standing in the way of the door. He was smaller in muscle then all of the combat agents, but still taller than me by a few inches.

"James," I said to his back. He didn't move. "James?"

Finally he did move, slowly inching forward and leaving me to shut the door behind us. I looked up.

The office wasn't as big as I had expected it to be, for a man with a brutish reputation and only known by one name. Towards the back in the middle there was a wooden desk with a thin silver computer on it, and drawers on either side of the space for an office chair to be tucked in. There was no back wall to the office, only a window. As in, the back wall was just a massive window. It was huge, and overlooked all the outdoor courses and front entrance to the agency. The other two walls were stacked floor to ceiling with filing cabinets. There were two unoccupied chairs opposite the desk.

Owen sat in what I presumed was the Director's seat. His muscular arms were crossed and he was leaning backwards. The tips of his white blond hair looked almost transparent with the sun behind him.

James regained himself from what looked like shock and fear for a moment before saying, "Why didn't you say anything when I knocked?"

"Because if I did you wouldn't have come in," Owen said matter-of-factly. His light blond hair swept up at the front, but a couple of hairs hung out like wings by his ears. His blue eyes were slightly bloodshot and the skin beneath his eyes was peach pink. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.

James also seemed to notice his state. "What the hell happened to you?"

Owen sighed, his shoulders sinking. "Nothing."

James rolled his eyes, suddenly annoyed. "That's right, I forgot you have a rep to uphold. Stony and manly. Got it."

Owen glared at him.

I glanced between the two starkly different agents. I hadn't seen James be the slightest bit bitter towards anyone yet.

"Where's Flagg?" James asked Owen next, tone still sour.

"He told me to compile the file for him," Owen said, "I handle the files anyway and he has other matters to attend to."

"Like what?"

Owen leaned forward in his seat, "shall we get started?"

James sighed. He reached into his back pocket and shoved him about three pages of notebook paper, all scribbled on in small handwriting.

"Those are all your notes?" I asked him.

James nodded, still narrowing his eyes at Owen slightly. "It's kind of my job to deduce people. You should see Axel's though." He shook his head. "He wrote a whole-ass book."

Owen leafed through the double-sided pages. "Sit down, you're making me feel like the real Director," he said, still going through the pages. He looked up at me every few seconds as if to fit James' impersonations into me.

James and I cautiously lowered ourselves into the two chairs that were opposite the desk from Owen. When I sat down the metal of the knife that Axel had given to me pressed into my side and I got an idea. "Do you know where Axel is?" I asked Owen.

"Why?" He asked back, still not looking up from reading James' notes. I sank back. He was right. I didn't really need to know. I had agreed to become a spy for this agency, and part of that was learning to curb my curiosity.

"Come on Owen, she just wants to know where he is." James said gently. "No harm in that..."

Owen sighed and shook his head at James. He set the papers down and tapped on the computer screen a few times. He turned it around for us to see a grid map with a blinking red dot at the center. "He is in Taranto, Italy. But I don't know why, so don't ask." He quickly turned the screen back around to him. Italy? That was quick. He must have gone practically the minute he left me in my dorm room.

That bitch!