Trust Trade

(Warning: Graphic)

The month was never supposed to go this way. It's like one day I was supposed to go to my final class, and the next I'm sitting in a doomsday bunker. Well, actually it was... exactly like that.

The day was fresh, and I had just aroused from sleep. My vision was slightly blurry as I stared at my acne-covered face and sighed. I slept barely an hour, working on a paper all night that I procrastinated. That's just how I was. Work sucked, and no one cared as long as it was good and finished, so who's to say I can't do it whenever I want? I'm not breaking any rules, am I? I rubbed deodorant in my armpits and threw on a clean Guardians of the Galaxy shirt. My roommate wasn't up yet, per usual. She never got up off of her bed most of the time, because she went with the online classes. I tried that once, and it was hell. The wi-fi conked out after five minutes and I missed the entire class. I chuckled at my rage as I grabbed a pair of grey sweatpants and sat down, cross-legged with a bowl of cereal on my lap, watching Nickelodeon like some five year old. I was, and still am, a sucker for the Kid's Choice Awards. Some hot dude would pop up every once in a while and it would spice up the whole show. Anyways, I watched SpongeBob for an episode before putting on my shoes and walking to Criminal Psychology class. It was interesting to learn about how the mind of a criminal worked. Not that I was ever gonna need it, of course. But, I wanted to enter the police force as a sort of profiler. It had always been my dream to be a cop.

Boy, did I have no idea what I was in for.

I got to my class and sat down. My friend, Angela, started chatting with me about some party being held by popular kid and party jock DeMarcus. The chitter-chatter stopped when Mr. Boron entered the room and started teaching. The slides flew by, and none of them caught my attention until the one with the bomb. It was a simple scenario: a building was targeted by bombers, assess the situation, and deliver the profile to the public. I had studied that certain kind of profile, so I answered most of the questions.

"Yes, Ms. Kornau?" Mr. Boron asked me.

"The bomber is a narcissist," I concluded. It was my fourth answer right in a row, and I was on fire. Eventually, the end of class rolled around, and he let us out.

"I like your profound knowledge, Ms. Kornau." Mr. Boron said.

"Thanks! It's always good to have knowledge in major topics along with the minor ones," I thanked. "After all, learning the profile of a bomber is the most basic..."

I was cut off short by a deafening explosion that ripped apart the ceiling like cardboard.

Two Minutes Later

An audible beep repeated over and over in my head. Everything sounded blurry, and I reached over to try and find my glasses. My arm screeched with pain as I found my glasses and stood up. The head rush was so intense I immediately fell back to the ground in a daze. After about five minutes, the alarms became clearer and I could see people running and screaming. I cocked my head up quickly, ignoring the applause of pain. I saw the building on fire, and what once was the head of Mr. Boron now lay on the ground, dead as a doornail. I screamed and got up on my severely bruised leg and dislocated ankle and ran for my life. I managed to reach the end of the corridor, but the door was obstructed on the other side. I pushed with all my might into the door... the one that led to the room with the bodies. The next thing I know, my brain tries to erase the image of... that... and I'm falling out of consciousness again.

The restraints roughly rubbed against my freezing cold skin and the chair that I was sitting in was still warm from the fire. I yelled out for help but got no response. The pitch-black room seemed to never end. It was only after I managed to untie the restraints did I hear a voice.

"Ms. Emily Michelle Kornau?" an inhumane voice called out. I froze and looked around the room frantically.

"Who are you? What the hell am I doing here?" I yelled.

"You have been selected." said the voice, purposefully leaving out the reason.

"Selected? Selected for what? What, you damned... thing?" I frantically screamed. A click on my right turned my gaze to a man, wearing a white suit.

"Untie me now! Untie me now, you stupid nut head!" I pleaded. I realized what I just said and thought for a second. What if I could profile this guy? I turned to him and motioned for him to sit down.

"You done?" he asked, too politely. It wasn't the same guy who was talking. That both angered and relieved me.

"Yeah," I muttered, out of breath. This guy was definitely a force to be reckoned with. Perhaps if I push the right button he'll let me go.

"The agency wishes that..." he began.

"Do you have a family?" I asked sweetly. He ignored the question and continued.

"That you deny all accusations of the federal government's involvement in the Stanford bombing." He let that sink in as I sat there, shocked. Tears began to stream down my cheeks. He certainly pushed my button.

"So it was YOU!" I shouted. "You killed all of those innocent people, you inhumane BITCH!"

"It was all for a good reason," he replied calmly. I screamed and thrashed in my restraints, all while he watched, his face not changing.

"We are an agency that secretly gets rid of crime possibilities in America." the man said after an hour of watching me squirm.

"I don't care." I pouted. This man wasn't about to get the better of me a second time.

"Until yesterday, we were able to keep Angela Coslov's investigation private..." he started.

"Wait, did you say Angela... Coslov?" My thoughts turned to my dear old friend.

"Yes. Ms. Coslov has many allies within the Stanford system," he mentioned.

"My best friend since second grade... is an international CRIMINAL?" I shouted.

"Yes. DeMarcus Patterson was her #1." He leaned in closer. "Had you gone to that young man's party, you would have been ruthlessly murdered. You were the one obstacle, Emily," he affirmed. My mind was racing. Was Angela really a criminal?

"If Angela was the target, then why did you bomb the school?" I asked. I bit my lip hard because I was actually interested in their organization. The one that killed thousands of innocent people. I bit my lip even harder.

"We had no other option. She had many allies, too many to count. The loss of the innocents was actually entirely their fault. A schoolwide warning was sent out to all of the innocents, and they decided not to act on it.

"If the innocents were sent a warning, how come I wasn't?" I croaked.

"We've been watching you for some time, or should I say, Agent Boron was watching you for some time," he remarked.

"No... way. Professor Boron was a spy?" I asked, surprised. "Please, that man is a joke."

"No, he is not." the agent said, annoyed. "That is, rather, how we made him appear. Your skills will be highly appreciated here, in the AICS."

"AICS? What is it, the Assholes who killed Innocent College Students?" I mocked.

"Artificial Intelligence Crime Stoppers," he noted.

From that point on, I worked as a double agent in the field as the lead profiler. I never ever forgave Agent Tranquilo (Fitting.) for bombing Stanford. To think, earlier this month I was drinking margaritas with my "friend" Angela, and now I'm writing about this as my first entry in the Agent Journal.

Yeah, screw this, I'm not doing this, Tranquilo.

From the ripped out pages of Agent Kornau's journal,

July 8th, 2028