Summary: When Sam is actually put in prison, she is taken by a secret government agency called Trained Assassins and spent years training to be an assassin. Now she has been given her first op as an agent: to take down an FBI team that knows a little too much. But she never expected Freddie to be an FBI agent, someone she thought was dead.

New story! So I Googled "Seddie prompt," and it brought me to Wishing Waters23's. It said something about Sam being an assassin, and now she's on her first mission, to take out an FBI team "that knew too much. But she never expected Freddie to be an FBI agent..." (And Freddie had to find out Sam was an assassin hired to kill him.)

I liked the idea (because badass Sam is always fun), but I changed it a bit, to make it more like the show Nikita. The characters I made up are sort of based on that, and I'm thinking Sam will be sort of a Nikita/Alex type of person, since Nikita fell in love and escaped "Division" (the name in the show).

Basically, Sam - Nikita/Alex; Freddie - Daniel-ish (I guess); Matthew - Michael; Hilary - Amanda; Walter - Percy. I think that's it.

Chapter One: Initiation

Hilary strides into my room, her heels clicking on the tile floor. Hilary is physiologist, one of the people in charge here at T.A.—Trained Assassins, though our cover was Transfer of Archives—a top-secret government agency that "did the dirty work." She works for Walter, although really, we all do. He's in charge of everything, and he is ruthless.

"Sam, your presence is requested by Matthew in his office," Hilary tells me. I roll my eyes and push past her. Matthew had trained me here at T.A.—I've been training for almost a year now, and thanks to Matthew, I am a highly skilled soon-to-be-assassin. I haven't completed my training yet; officially, I was still a recruit. I had come here when I was sixteen. I was now seventeen. I remember the first day I got here:

The first thing I remembered was waking up in a hospital bed at T.A. I didn't know where I was or how I'd gotten there.

Matthew had been standing in the corner, waiting. It had kind of creeped me out that he'd been watching me. I sat up and brought my knees to my chest, hugging them. I was terrified. My eyes were red from having just woken up and from crying, though I didn't get how they could still look red from crying when I had cried so long ago.

"Hello, Sam," Matthew had said. Then he raised his hand. "It is Sam, right? Never Samantha?"

"Never," I spat warily. "Or I'll kick your ass." My voice, surprisingly, sounded strong and brave, despite how scared I was. "Who are you? Where am I? Why do you know my name?"

"This is T.A.," he'd said. "I'll tell you what that stands for later, after I've shown you around a bit. My name is Matthew. I will play a big part in training you." He walked closer to my bed as he spoke.

"Training me for what?" I asked suspiciously, lowering my legs. "And you still haven't told me how you know my name."

"We've been watching you," he said simply—which really made me think he was a stalker—and added mysteriously, "I'll tell you what we're training you for when I tell you what T.A. stands for."

"Look, you freak me out, stalker. You can't keep me here!" I yelled the last part. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

"No, you didn't. But I said we've been watching you, and we have. On that webshow of yours you did with your friend there—Catie, was it?"

"Carly!" I corrected, hysterical.

"Right. Anyway, as I was saying, we thought you showed potential. Potential to be one of the best students here at T.A. You're here to see if we were right, which I'm pretty sure we were spot-on."

"What if you're not?"

"I don't think that will be a problem." He handed me a manila folder and told me to open it. I did, and it held a picture of a gravestone—a gravestone reading SAMANTHA PUCKETT, along with a certificate of death. I didn't even know they had those.

"No. No," I stammered. "This can't be real. You're lying!"

He shook his head. "I'm not. It's all true, Sam."

I broke down. I couldn't help it. Carly, Freddie, and Spencer were all dead—or at least, there's no way they could have survived. Now this guy was telling me they were going to train me for something. It was all too much.

So I ran. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and tried to make a break for it. Matthew grabbed my wrist and bent it back. I cried out in pain.

"Let me go," I pleaded. "Just let me go and leave me alone."

"I can't," he said through his teeth. "You will stay here and train with us. And you will work for us," he snapped.

I both hate and like looking back on that day. I mean, look at how far I've come since then. I've been on missions, even as a recruit, and I've killed. As aggressive and abrasive as I was before T.A., as many people as I'd hurt, I'd never actually taken a person's life away from them. Not until August 8, 2010. There's nothing quite like pulling the trigger and watching a person's life drain away from them—it takes away a part of you every time, especially the first time, and I preferably kill as little as possible. Some of the others here, some of the agents who'd been here for years, could do it without batting an eye. But although I no longer hesitated, I always felt a little guilty; those were people, people with family, and friends. And I was taking it away from them. It was something I could never redeem. I tried my hardest to ignore the guilt. I was a killer with a conscience, something T.A. didn't want. They wanted someone who would kill ruthlessly, without even blinking.

"What does Matthew want?" I ask Hilary, stopping in the doorway.

She smiles; a smile that, paired with her piercing green eyes, appears cold and calculating no matter how friendly she tries to make it seem. "You'll see." I frown.


I knock on the door of Matthew's office. "Come in," he calls.

"Sam," he says when I enter, rising from his chair.

"What did you call me here for?" I respond bluntly. No point in messing around.

He smiles; he's used to me by now. "You will be sent on a mission soon. If you succeed, you will officially be an agent," he said. He hands me a manila folder. "Here's the details of the op. I'd suggest studying it and spending as much time as you can in the training area."

I open the folder and skim it. I have to kill a politician named Justin Jakes.

"Is that all?" I ask Matthew. He nods, and I turn and left the room.

I can't believe it. I'm almost an agent, and all I have to do is kill one guy. That's not too bad, right?

What'd you think? Should I continue? Or is it terrible? Let me know.