Disappearing, Inc.

Chapter 1- A Rough Start

Chapter 1- A Rough Start

I turned my head to the sound of whispering behind my back to see a huddled mass of people, squeezing together as if to hide from the cold. A brisk wind slapped my cheek and with it came ice, tearing away at my skin. I shivered.

"How much longer do we have to wait out here?" I bugged my friend Brooke as she furiously typed away on her phone.

"Just a few more minutes Claire. You never have been a patient one have you?" She glanced up from her phone just long enough to roll me eyes at her. She laughed, and so did I, and for only a minute, the burden we held lifted from our shoulders.

As soon the familiar silver mini-van pulled up in front of us, that burden came crashing back down.

"You coming?" I could clearly see Morgan's pink lips mouth the words over the blackout windows.

"Morgan," I taunted, "The 'forever flower' shade really isn't working for you."

"Oh shut up and get in," she countered. I snickered, I couldn't help but teasing Morgan about her lipstick; she just couldn't seem to find the right shade.

"Whatever you say," I mimicked in an overly sweet voice. The door slid open and Brooke and I hobbled in. The warm puff of air that I had been yearning for blasted me in the face as I climbed into the back seat. Suddenly, Kelsey gave me a warning glance and and her short black hair shook as she murmured, "She's in a bad mood." I wasn't sure if she meant Morgan or--

"Claire! Brooke! Did you get it!" growled Madame Miranda. My thought was cutoff, yet answered as I realized that Kelsey meant our team leader, Madame Miranda. Basically, she was a cold blooded snake who can't help but bite off our heads every time we took a false step.

"Yes. We retrieved the number." I replied solemnly. As badly as I wanted to complain about the bitter cold, there was no use is trying to joke around with her.

"Good. Ready for the next step?" She asked with a hint of mysteriousness in her voice. From my seat, I could see her glossy brown hair cascading down her black cashmere sweater and dark brown eyes hidden beneath her Gucci sunglasses. A half-hearted smile danced across her immaculate face.

"Yes," we chorused. I glanced out the window and watched frozen town that I had called home for the past week zip by as Madame Miranda cleared her throat to say the words I've been dreading.

"Ladies, it's time to take him out." A collective gasp was released, but we knew this was coming. We could take him out. We would take him out because we were spies, hungry for the kill.