text: [Themes: sci-fi]
  
  You dart forward, wrapping your hands around his neck before his sleep-deprived mind can react. You squeeze, clamping down tightly, as you force his head downward so he doesn't get a look at you.
  
  "If you admit you got jumped by a student, you'll be fired," you say, while attempting a different voice.
  
  Hopefully, that convinces him. He slumps into unconsciousness. You know that he won't regain consciousness for a while, and it'll take another ten minutes of strangling to kill him. Time to work.
  
  You hurry inside. You see a locked computer screen, and walk over to it, sitting down. Thankfully, you know enough about hacking from your many classes for this to be easy. You quickly get to work. The password protection system is very easily surpassed, and you access student records, scrolling down to yours. You find your various "F" subjects, and quickly upgrade them to "C"'s and "B"'s.
  
  "Perfect," you mutter.
  
  "You'd never get a "B" in Hand-to-Hand," a voice says.
  
  Shit.
  
  You turn around, to see Void standing there.
  
  "Well, somebody's up to no good, isn't she?" Void smiles.
  
  > try to seduce her
  You grab Void, and bring her in close, kissing her. She disappears from your grip, appearing a foot in front of you.
  
  "What was that?" she says in shock.
  
  "I was just... well, you know."
  
  "You realize if you're going for the seductress route, it's best not to be half metal?" she asks, still in shock
  
  "I guess," you reply.
  
  "Should... I really don't know what to do here," Void says. "I've been caught off guard. I guess I should expel you?"
  
  "I mean... I can kiss you again."
  
  "I'm... I'm just going to go, I think," she says. "Get back to bed."
  
  Void disappears, leaving you alone. You save the changes, and quickly head back to bed, avoiding the guards under the cover of darkness.
  
  > Several Months Later...
  The next few days are similar. You get through the physical classes through cheating, and you kill the mental classes through your natural aptitude. Mr DeVont almost acts as a teacher to you. He gives you hints about how to cheat on exams, and even upgrades your bionics so that they have all the bonuses while being indistinguishable from a normal eye and limb.
  
  These days quickly turn to weeks, which turn once again to months. Slowly, the year mark creeps up on you, and with that, graduation.
  
  You find that your methods for success kind of alienate you from others. You manipulate and mess with the students you dislike to get a leg up, while spending less time with the ones you actually do like. You have no idea how you're going to pass the final exam, seeing how there's no one week left to fight against. You're quite screwed for this.
  
  > Continue
  You walk into archery class, only to find Sergeant Doyle standing next to Mr DeVont.
  
  "I want to hear you say it," Sergeant Doyle says, before noticing Mia. "Ah, Mia, good timing. Class has been canceled. We were just discussing you."
  
  "Sergeant Doyle has agreed to..." Mr DeVont says, before Doyle raises a hand.
  
  "Not until you say it."
  
  "You're being pedantic," Mr DeVont asks.
  
  "Damn right," Sergeant Doyle smiles.
  
  "You were right," Mr DeVont says.
  
  "Music to my ears," Sergeant Doyle says.
  
  "Sergeant Doyle has agreed, as your sponsor, that we recommend you for services beyond the Academy."
  
  "What?" you ask, confused.
  
  "You've learned all you can here, Mia," Sergeant Doyle says.
  
  "One of our potential clients has extended on offer. The girl who has the highest rate of cheating has caught their attention."
  
  "What client?" you ask.
  
  "M&J Inc."
  
  "I've never heard of them."
  
  "I would be shocked if you had, but you're no doubt one of their clients. If you've bought oil, guns, medicine, plane parts, automobiles, drones ammo, baby toys, dog food, soy sauce or even paid tax, you're one of their clients. They need a new operative. They could have you do anything from assassinate unstable, uncooperative dictators from stealing tax reports. But I promise, you'll be well paid."
  
  "When does it start?"
  
  "Tomorrow. All you really need to know is that its dangerous work, you'll be very well paid and they'll use your skills well. This kind of corporation doesn't wait around. If you refuse the position or are unable to give an answer, I'll go on to my second choice. What do you say?"
  
  > Accept
  "Sure. Terrific. I'll arrange a meeting for tomorrow," Mr DeVont says.
  
  "Good choice, Mia," Sergeant Doyle says. "I know there was something special in you as I jabbed that needle into your neck."
  
  Sergeant Doyle chuckles, as he smiles at you.
  
  > Continue
  You stand in your room, packing your backs, as your dorm mates look at you.
  
  "So you'll be a spy?" Seamus asks.
  
  "Not exactly. I'll be an operative who is sometimes undercover"
  
  "You're saying spy," Seamus says. "The words sound different, but you're saying spy."
  
  You smile and shrugs, as Luc walks over, wrapping his muscular arms around you, gripping you in a hug.
  
  "I'll miss you, Mia."
  
  "I'll miss you, too," you reply, struggling not to blush.
  
  "Yeah, Mia, best of luck as a spy. Don't announce your name when talking to super-villains, and I'm sure you'll be fine," Seamus says.
  
  "Good luck, Mia. I'll see you around. Who knows, maybe my employer will have me kill you some day? So today is not the end," Shada says.
  
  "I'll miss you all too. I need to go. I have a meeting with one of their representatives," you say."
  
  You walk to the door, and smile at all your friends.
  
  "Bye, guys. Hope your exams go well. Best of luck in life."
  
  With that you turn, walking off.
  
  > Later That Day...
  You sit in front of a handsome man with short black hair and a clean shaven face in Mr DeVont's office. Mr DeVont sits next to you, acting as a cross between a liaison and your representative.
  
  "So what are we talking here?" you ask.
  
  "The position is simply. We're willing to pay you five hundred thousand dollars a year, with perks such as a company car, free healthcare and dental and we'll pay for all your travel and accommodation."
  
  "What hours?" you ask, attempting to sound professional.
  
  "We expect you to be on call 24/7, although in reality, we don't expect much. We need skills, not manpower. We've been told you have skills in assassination, subterfuge, sabotage, seduction, espionage and theft. We're willing to do a lot to acquire these skills"
  
  "This all sounds reasonable," you say, looking at Mr DeVont, who nods.
  
  The man slides over a contract to you.
  
  "Mr DeVont has already read through it. You're free to as well, although I don't believe contract law is your specialty. Mr DeVont's... generous finder's fee has already been decided."
  
  He offers you a pen, which you gratefully grab, before signing the document. You slide it over, and the man smiles.
  
  "Welcome to M&J Incorporated," he smiles. "In thanks, we have a gift for you."
  
  The man opens his briefcase, pulling out a file. He slides it over.
  
  "Go ahead. Open it."
  
  "You open it, and find a dossier. You begin reading it.
  
  Name: Michael Kingston
  
  Date of Birth: 1/2/1983
  
  Aliases: Crimson Cape
  
  "From our research, we've gathered that he killed both your parents and your younger brother. Feel free to do what you want with that information. It contains his schedule, his place of birth, his allergies, anything one might need in... well, you know."
  
  "Thanks," you say, not knowing what to say.
  
  "I feel this is the start of a very beneficial business relationship, Mia," the man smiles.
  
  > Continue
  Snake
  
  Michael sat at the bar, drinking. He'd started coming here a lot after work and before he went out to do what was necessary. It helped. Fuck, he had been six years sober, but that day he let Cassandra die, the bottle granted him relief that nothing else could.
  
  "Rusty Nail on the rocks," a voice says.
  
  Michel turned, to see a young girl saddled up next to him. She wore a black miniskirt and a silver blouse, with flowing black hair.
  
  "Hey there, mister," she smiled coyly.
  
  Michael wasn't an ugly guy, but for a gorgeous young girly, barely out of her teens if not younger, to be paying attention to him, was far from common.
  
  "I'm going to need to see an ID," the barman said.
  
  The girl smiled, and showed him an ID. The barman was clearly satisfied and got to pouring drinks.
  
  "Are you going to say hello back?" the girl asked, staring at Michael.
  
  "Pleasure to meet you, I'm Michael," he said, as the girl shook his outreached hand.
  
  "Mia," she replied. "So, are you going to buy me a drink?"
  
  "You just bought yourself a drink," Michael pointed out.
  
  "Are you trying not to get me drunk?" Mia replied.
  
  Michael ordered two more drinks, and the pair began chatting. Eventually, in a slurry of cocktails, shots, pints and pitchers, the night slipped away from them.
  
  "Closing time, fellas. Best move on," the barman said, as Michael nodded.
  
  "You know, I have a hotel room nearby," Mia says. "If you're not doing anything."
  
  "Well, I was planning on drinking with this gorgeous girl I met, but I don't think she's into me," Michael joked.
  
  Mia leaned in, kissing him. He recoils slightly in surprise, before grabbing her and kissing back. The kiss is awkward and sloppy, but Michael's so drunk he doesn't care. He lets her lead him away from the bar, outside into the cold, fresh air and along the streets. They head into a hotel, Mia giggling as she leads him along the twisting hotel halls. Eventually, she opens the door, revealing a pristine hotel room. He stumbles forwards, collapsing on the bed. Michael stands, grabbing Mia, although she gently pushes him on the bed. He feels his head get heavy as his vision blurs, and he falls off the bed, onto the floor.
  
  "I'm sorry, this doesn't usually happen to me. Drink does strange things to me."
  
  "Oh, I doubt it's the drink. It's probably the poison."
  
  "What?" Michael asks, confused.
  
  "I poisoned your drink. I'm so glad you took up drinking again. If I had poisoned something other than alcohol, you would have been able to taste it. My original plan, if you can believe it, was to inject myself with a slow-acting version of the poison, have sex with you to poison you, and then inject the antidote into my blood. Thankfully, someone was drinking to celebrate. Or to forget. Or to make something happen."
  
  "You... why?" Michael asked, as his veins began to feel like they were filled with ice.
  
  "You don't know who I am, obviously. How about Alan Taylor? Kevin Min? Jack Min-Taylor? Any of them ring a bell? You killed them. You "super-heroes" cause so much damage, but you don't care. You..."
  
  Michael puked blood onto the carpet, as paralysis took him.
  
  "Oh, shit... the poison's working faster than expected. I had a whole speech planned. Oh well. Burn it hell, Crimson Cape."
  
  Mia walked out the hotel room door with a smile, leaving Michael Kingston lying on the floor behind her.