Criminal and Defense Chapter 1: "So... Is everything... Normal?" Asked my best friend of forever as I angrily hung up my phone, wishing there were still flip phones for dramatic effect. I looked up at him, normal took a relative when you're the product of the worlds most wanted hit man and the worlds best spy. Normal took a pretty relative turn when you just got off the phone with your informant who just told you your mother was at a prison in Switzerland on a miscommunication and your father was once again free. Normal took an extremely relative turn when you went to a federally funded and operated secret school all the students called criminal and defense. Not criminal defense, as in one job, but criminal and defense, as in /two/ jobs. "As normal as it gets." I sigh walking past B&E 101, I give no further details, and he asks none. Just as a best friend should, just as Parker 'Davy Jones' Hook, who just went by Jones, always had. "You're upset." He said, not moving any farther into it than an observation. "Of corse I'm upset. My father gets to run around the world and I'm stuck here." I groan, slinging my bag over one of the desk chairs in home room, I can feel everyone's eyes on me. It was everyone else's first day back, even though CD, as everyone calls the institute, is run by hardcore criminals and Feds, there still is a summer break. Unlike everyone else, I didn't make it to see my parents, never have, probably never will. There's rounded going around that my mother wasn't even there for my birth, and after sixteen years, I'm starting to believe it. I've always been that girl whose known by there stories, but you forget their face as soon as they look away, a pretty useful tactic when you're the best criminal in the forty eight contiguous states, but today I looked different for several reasons. One, it was my sixteenth birthday, who wouldn't glow? Two, I was sporting my new Guns n' Roses tee with my favorite leather jacket and three, I'd been slipped a top secret letter in the hall that simply read "Two o'clock, front hall" in unforgeable handwriting. "Alright class, I know we will only be here for ten minutes, but let's make them productive." A stern voice that could only belong to Mr. Bellvic announced. He looked around the room, clearly divided into criminals and defense. "Can someone tell me the who, what, where, when and why of our facility?" He barked, scaring a defense into raising their hand. "Criminal and Defense Institute of Selected Citizens is for selected citizens, who will be the criminals or defenders of America. The institute is a place where our skills can be refined daily under intense training and excellent trainers. Location is unknown. Built in 1658 the institute was the first to order crime and defense because 'the world needs criminals just as much as it needs those who put them away'." A girl in the school uniform sat, play with her hair in the back of the room, quoting our founders, John Perry and Thomas Tyler. The teacher nodded and moved on to his second question. "If one car is parked in a towing zone it's?" "A ticket." Another defense answered. "If two cars are parked in a towing zone it's?" "A coincidence." "If three cars are parked in a towing zone it's?" "A crime." The boy answered, beaming with pride. Jones scoffed next to me, "Is there something you'd like to say Mr. Hook?" Mr. Bellvic asked, looking down upon his criminal status. "I prefer captain if you must call me by my last name." His beautiful British accent rang out. The U.S government had attained him through a trade, where frankly, they got the better deal. Jones had been successfully picking locks with his pacifier and taking candy from other babies since the day he was born. "And, how does three cars parked in a towing zone equal a crime. Theoretically the best crime would be stealing a car, paying five bucks for the parking garage and stealing five million. Whose the idiot that'd park a stolen car in a towing zone?" "Terrible use of the word theoretical Mr. Hook." Mr. Bellvic disapproved, but took the answer into consideration, yet again thinking too little of the criminals. Jones winked at me while the rest of the class remained silent, good little rule followers, every one of them. Mr. Bellvic glared at me, as if he could read my thoughts. Who knew, maybe he could, defense technology had come pretty far. "Miss Cole, you took biohazard last year didn't you?" "Top of my class." I replied, examining my nails. "So then you're aware of the leading reactants theory?" "Aware of it? I created it." I scoff, thinking fondly of the extra credit project. "Please, tell the lesser informed what it implies." "Well, I originally wrote it in German so I'll give you the basic definition, it's easier to wrap your heads around anyway." Turning towards the class I cleared my throat. "It basically implies that a delayed reaction will take place only near other similar reactions." Looking back at Bellvic, he was about to continue, but I couldn't let him beat me to the punch. "The example Mr. Bellvic would like to use is Jones and I, he has an explosively boastful attitude, causing mine to react because I'm feeding off his energy. A bland and unoriginal example I may add, but one all of you simpler minded could understand." Mr. Bellvic remained looking un-phased, though his body language said other wise. The slight twitch in his fingers, the faint red in his cheeks, the inconstant blinking of his eyes, all elementary tells. Before he could rebuttal, the bell signaling the end of homeroom rang, dismissing us into separate halls. "Jones!" I whispered as we hurried down the hall. He didn't acknowledge but tapped on my elbow, our sign for 'I'm listening'. "I got a message to go to the front hall at two. Who do you think sent it?" I ask in a chopped sentence as we passed as few defenses walking towards the front halls while we made a break towards the back ones. The institute was rather large, but there were only about one hundred teenagers in the building itself. "Was it admin?" He asked, scanning his hand for entry into hall nine, a hall you needed level three security for. "Maybe your mum dropped off your lunch." He laughed, ruffling my hair. "This is serious." My serious tone being downgraded by my laughter. "It's in that unforgeable writing they do, and in the sixteen years I've been here, I've never gotten one. They're usually for kids whose parents dropped in, or a defense wasn't following a rule, or a criminal was, that sort of thing." "You'll find out later then wont you." He said, obviously not putting any thought into it, and walked into manners and etiquette, yes even criminals need to know how to hold their silverware, and besides, who knows when a well handled knife could come in handy.