The helicopter came to a complete stop, and I saw the agent from before open the door and throw down the ladder. I couldn’t help but be curious about who they were but I wasn’t going to let anyone know that. I went back to looking at the laptop, searching for anything useful. The coat I was wearing started to make me sweat so I unzipped it and slid it off my arms, setting it to the side. It was then that I saw the nasty tattoo that I had been forced to get when I had been pulled into the organization. 

It’s so ugly and I’ll never be able to get rid of it. I looked at it scornfully, the number 214 was tattooed into my wrist, marking the number I was assigned when I was recruited. And telling everyone that I was the 214th recruit. A number that I was called, a number that will always be with me. I’ll never be able to think about that number the same again. 

I flipped my wrist over so I didn't have to stare at that horrible number any longer. I looked up at the loud bang that came from the door and I saw that of all the coworkers we could have stopped to pick up, we ended up picking up my least favorite, 207. I looked back down at my laptop and pretended to not notice as he saw me and smiled. I let out an enormous sigh. It was bad enough I had to deal with this asshole once a year at the annual get-together, I didn’t want to deal with him right now too. 

Well, maybe he will leave me alone. That hope died really quickly as he walked over to me and I rolled my eyes. 

“Don’t you have better things to do than sit here and annoy me this entire ride?” I scoffed. 

“Better things to do? You act like you don’t like me. What did I ever do to you?” 207 looked at me in mock offense.

“Of course I don’t like you. You're like a constant thorn in my side,” I retorted.

“Now is that any way to talk to your coworker? I have feelings too, you know.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“No, I'd rather talk. It seems to annoy your pretty little head so I say it's worth it.” 

I let out a scoff at that and stood up and walked into the side of the helicopter to look into the mirror to brush my hair and touch up my appearance. My long, wavy brunette hair went halfway down my torso, my curtain bangs framed my face well. I picked up a brush that was sitting on a shelf next to the mirror and I brushed out the tangles in it as I stared into it. My emerald green eyes stared right back at me. Their piercing color even startled me sometimes. I sighed and set the brush back down and headed back to my seat. I sat back down and the agent came over to fetch the laptop from me and I handed it to him. 

As the flight continued, the helicopter started to shake violently. I wrapped my leg around some netting that was right under my knee. I felt the tingly, uncomfortable feeling that I was being watched. I was trained to make my senses more heightened at a young age to make my job easier and to make me into ‘the best assassin’ just like everyone else in the organization. The feeling refused to go away and the voice in the back of my mind was screaming at me,

Don’t look. Don’t even look. It’s one of the other assassins. It’s probably 207. Don’t let him get a rise out of you. Don’t look!

Then the other voice in my head, further in than the other, was fighting the other. 

Look, look, look! You have to look! What if someone snuck on the plane to kill you? What if one of the cops isn't really dead?! You NEED to look. 

I didn’t know who to listen to but I decided to listen to the second. Like it couldn't be that bad right? I mean who's dumb enough to sneak onto a helicopter full of fully trained assassins, right? I turned my gaze from my computer to the direction the feeling was taking me and locked eyes with none other than 207. His hazel eyes have hints of gold and green, his light brown hair, that was almost a caramel color fluffed up like he didn’t brush it. 

The thing I hated most of all about him was his perfect facial structure. Pronounced cheekbones, a slender nose, his eyes and ears fit his face in perfect symmetry, to a point that it's annoying. Worst of all his lips rose up into an undeniable smirk that was definitely intended for me. My fingers curled into fists and my knuckles grew white the longer I stared into his eyes. He opened his mouth to talk to me but I beat him to it,

“If you say a singular thing about the way I look right now I will personally push you off this helicopter into the Gulf of Mexico,” which we happened to be flying over at the moment.

His smirk grew bigger and he took a step towards me. The other assassins pretended that they weren't watching but I continued to catch them looking up from their work and taking quick glances at us. Before 207 could gain any more ground on me I flicked the gun from my hip and pointed it directly at his head. He froze but the smirk never left his face as he stared at the gun in my hand. 

“Put the gun down, sweetheart. I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice was soft and had mock sweetness in it, which infuriated me even more. 

I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from cussing him out. The only response that I could say was even slightly civilized. I had to think it through a million times to make sure I didn't just resort to cussing him out.

“Shut up and go sit down. I’m not scared of you at all, no matter how much you think I am. Don’t make me have to deal with you, and I am only here to get to our next target and get our job done. I don’t feel like dealing with you today because I already have enough going on. So go sit your pretty ass down and get back to work,” 207 looked at me in shock.

 I smiled slightly, I had whipped the smirk straight off his face. He looked taken aback and sat back down in defeat. I holstered my gun back to my hip and sat back down on the wooden bench that was attached to the belly of the helicopter. I felt 207’s gaze on me, but this time I chose to ignore it. I had won.

------

 I reached down to my feet and pulled out the supply bag I had been given, like on all my other trips. I opened it and found the only food in it was a granola bar. Better than nothing, I thought to myself. I carefully unwrapped the bar, giving it a good sniff. I had been poisoned before, I didn't feel like going through that again. I took a small bite and set it to the side. If I was to get poisoned, I wanted to have eaten only part of it, the side effects would be less severe. If I didn't get any in an hour, I would know it's safe and I would eat the rest of the bar. I closed the bar and set it back into the bag, deep so if I ended up sleeping that night and another assassin looked through it looking for food, which happened quite often, they wouldn't find it, considering the fact the food was always placed on the top. 

I have learned quite a few things from working here for the past six years. I paused my rummage through the bag and took a second to think. I’ve been working here since I was eleven. It was the only thing I managed to think about. 

Wtritten by- that unkown writer

published by- powerful like a girl