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Rated: ASR · Fiction · Crime/Gangster · #2208333
A secondary Pov for my other OC story, JANET (I'm not done writing it yet!)
Characters You Will Meet:
         Charles Johnathan Washburn...The main character
         Amelia Janet Scott...The other main character; the girl of his dreams
         Bruno...the prison bully
         Tracy Harbing...the person who rides beside Charles on the train

                   3 Years Ago…
         When I was 16, I had to write a research paragraph for school. Little did I know, that single paragraph would change my life.
We had to choose a person, then do research on them. I’ve always been fascinated with the criminal mind, what drives them, and all that fun stuff. I’ve already done more research than I needed to on that topic. I have a photographic memory, so that helps a lot. Naturally, I chose the youngest major criminal in the U.S.,(and quite possibly the world), Black Cat Janet. Here is the paragraph I wrote.

Amelia Janet Scott, The worst criminal in America. She’s an assassin for hire, with a kill rate of 694. She and her twin, Catherine Scott, were born and raised in Chicago, Illinois. When Janet was 4 years old, she accidentally killed her father by shooting him. When she was 7, she killed her next person-the school bully. By the time she was 10, she had killed 25 people. The day she turned 12, her kill rate hit 100, landing her on the Top 10 Most Wanted Criminals. She dropped out of school when she was a sophomore in High School...
Ok, so I do the paper, I turn it in, everything is good. Right?
                   Chapter 1: The Phone call
         So, 3 weeks after I do the paragraph, it's the middle of summer break, and I’m “researching Janet” on my laptop. Well, my parents get a phone call, and it’s from the FBI. They ask to talk to me, in private. When my parents pull the reins, the FBI offers me a job. I’m like “heck yeah!” but my parents want to hear the job description. The FBI says that they will be at our house in the morning at 9:30. They hang up, and my parents go absolutely ballistic. I calmly say that the only thing that would possibly mildly concern them is the paragraph I wrote for school. They demand I write it out for them, so I do. They read it, and then I am sent to my room for the rest of the day. The next morning, I am woken up by a knock at the door. When I answer it, its the FBI. I slam the door, run to wake my parents up, and then go get dressed. 2 hours, 35 mins later, and we are enjoying waffles with strawberries in Washington D.C. in a small, soundproof office. There are 5 people there. Aaron Sparks, The Head Director of the FBI. Kim Hall, Barbra Foster, and Darren Hill were the Assistant Directors. My mom was on edge from her boss calling her and cussing her out for being late. My dad had just lost his aunt the week before, so they were both agitated before we even started talking. I asked why we were here in Washington, and my parents shushed me, but Mr. Sparks just laughed.
         “Well, you see son, the reason we called you here was a certain research paragraph you did for your school. Seeing as you have a photographic memory,” he continued, folding a file open, “I assume you know and understand what I’m talking about. Correct?”
         “Yes sir,” I answered, my mouth going dry.
         “Tell me what you know about Janet.”
         “Well, to start out, she was born at Children’s hospital, on May 13, 1999. She has an older twin sister named Catherine Scott. I don't know her middle name. Anyway, the twins went to Brookside Primary School. When Janet was 4 ½ years old, she accidentally shot her dad with a 9-caliber Glock. This killed her father. To avoid public shaming, their mother moved the girls to a private school called Evergreen School for Girls. When Janet was seven, she followed a girl home and shot them in the woods behind the victim’s home. Janet was clever and disguised it as a suicide attempt. She made it look as if the victim hung themselves, although I am yet to learn the name of the victim. When she-”
         At this, Sparky interrupted. “Ok, stop for a minute and answer thi. Why did you say that Janet was ‘clever’?”
         “As you probably already know, I’ve always been fascinated with how the criminal mind and how it operates, and what drives the criminals to do what they do. To see a criminal do that, it just blows my mind, because it’s clever and stupid at the same time. It’s clever because the seven-year-old tried to disguise the murder. It’s stupid because there will obviously be an entrance and exit wound where the bullet when through the victim.”
         “Obviously. Anyway, how do you know all of this? Did you do that much research for just one paragraph?”
         “Um-”
         “Don’t tell me the answer, son. I already know.”
         By now, my mother was ready to go. So, she broke into the conversation. “Ok, so over the phone, you mentioned a job. Please elaborate on that.”
         “Ok, so we’ve all seen how much he knows about Mrs. Scott. We were wondering if you would be interested in a position where you get to work as an undercover agent for us. That is as much as we are at liberty to say until we know that you are 100% in, no going back.”
         At this, my father shut the conversation down. “Well then. I guess we have our answer. Unless you tell me what the job is about specifically, then you won't have our business.”
         I begged my parents for the job, but seeing as I was still living in their house, my parents flat out refused.
         Aaron handed me a business card. “Please consider the money you could earn for your family. Will you?”
                   Present Day…
         Three years have passed since then, and my parents have died. They died in a plane crash, coming home from Orlando, Florida. I’m now twenty-one, deciding my career. I’ve applied for several jobs, and I'm running out of money. “I’ve got to call them. I have no choice.” I told myself. “I’ve got no choice.” I go to the phone and dial 202-555-2916, already regretting my choice.
         “Um, hello?” Sparky's confused voice answers.
         “Um, hi? This is Charles Washburn? You offered me a job as an undercover agent a few years ago?”
         “Oh! Yes, thank you for accepting. I was confused because people aren’t supposed to be able to dial this number. If you are 100% sure, no going back, then please say so.”
         “Yes, sir. I’m getting desperate with money, and I’ve really got no other choice.”
         “Are you ok with us coming to your house tomorrow? We need you to sign some papers saying that you completely agree with the terms and conditions before we continue. Is that alright? And are you still living at the same address?”
         “Yes, sir.”
         “Alrighty then. We will pick you up at 9:30 sharp tomorrow morning.”
         “Thank you, Mr. Sparks. Goodbye.”

Six months later...


                   Chapter 1: The Train Ride
         It’s the first day on the job and I’m nervous. My alibi? A young criminal who was charged with 10 years of prison for murder. I’m escorted out of the Bethel County Jail to a police car waiting. I’m then taken across town to the train station. The train cars are a loud neon orange color. I take my assigned seat and I wait for Janet to arrive. The ride itself is very uneventful, but I’m not used to the time-zone changing constantly. About the third day in, the train makes the stop. This is when Janet got in the train. She takes a while to get to the train, like she doesn't want to be here. When she finally gets seated, the first thing she is told was “Don’t try any funny business, Janet. If you would just wait 5 days, then you’ll be able to get off this train. Ok?” Shrugging it off, she turns to look out the window. Gazing at her, I begin to experience euphoria. She is absolutely beautiful. She looks nothing like she did on the internet. I have never seen a girl this charming. I tried smoothing out my hair, but she doesn't notice the effort.
         That night, I am woken up by an ever-so-slight filing sound coming from Janet’s side of the aisle. She has taken the risk to escape. It almost sounds like she is filing at the lock at the window. Apparently, it catches the attention of a passing guard too, because the sound stops.
         “Just what do you think you’re doing,” the guard asks.
         “Filing my nails,” came the excuse.
         “Very funny. Come with me.”
The guard starts leading her to one of the farther back, soundproof cars. Finally, some peace and quiet.
SLAM goes the door, waking the guards on duty Silence, then THUD! A few seconds go by… *scuffling on the deck between the train cars* GHAHHHHHHHH! THUD…. @!$& You, you little #**$%@* $^$*@%$* @%&$ !!!!!
The officer limps back into the train car with a broken nose and jaw. In her hand is one of those handheld versions of a tactical TASER. Several officers run-up.
“What happened out there, Catherine!? Did you let her get away,” one of them demands? The other officers start to join in but were cut off with a wave. Catherine simply hangs her head in shame, continuing to hold her bleeding nose.
“Well, we can’t change it now. Let’s get you cleaned up and your face looked at.”
Taking Catherine under her arm, the officer led the small group towards the front of the train.

                   Chapter 2: A Conversation with Tracy
         In the morning, the fight/escape was the talk of the train car.
There was a young girl seated beside me.
         “Hey! My name is Tracy. What’s yours?”
         “Charles.”
         “I’s got a question for ya.”
         “What’s up?”
         “Who escaped? I’ve heard that you watched the whole thing. Were you awake when it happened?”
         “Yes, I was awake when it happened. The fight itself happened in the little area between the train cars. Do you know the girl who was oh-so-heavily-guarded? Well, they did that for a reason. I think she was Black Cat Janet, because that SAME night, she escaped. I woke up to the sound of her filing on the window. I think she noticed a guard coming because the sound stopped. The guard noticed it too because she asked Janet to go with her to one of the back cars. Those things are soundproof, you know that? Anyway, somewhere between the two cars, a fight broke out, someone got Tazed, and Janet got away,” I explained.
         “Oh. Oh wow! The Black Cat Janet? I’ve heard that she killed her own dad at 8-years-old, murdered the vice president at age seven and got away with it since she made it look like a suicide. She was on the top five FBI Most Wanted at twelve years old, and attempted to steal the Crown Jewels. She had to drop them off at an alleyway to avoid being killed though”
         “And exactly how much of this is factual?”
         “All of it! When you get a chance, if you get a chance, just look it up. It’s all on Wikipedia.”
         “Alright,” I say, amused at her ignorance.

                   Chapter 4: My Encounter With Bruno
         The next few days flew by. By the fifth day, I was ready to be off of this train. Then Sunday, the sixth day, the train pulled into an official-looking train station. It looked like it was built for the sole purpose of transporting prisoners. The station was built by a boat dock. Beside the station was a walkway with six-foot concrete walls, leading onto the dock. Out of nowhere, a shrill whistle came over the intercom, then it was followed by a dead silence. Then came the officers, with orders on how to move out.
         “LISTEN UP, PRISONERS! I AM SARGENT RAYWALL. I WILL BE SUPERVISING THE MOVE BETWEEN THE TRAIN AND THE BOAT. SINCE THERE HAS ALREADY BEEN AN ESCAPE, ALL OFFICERS AND GUARDS WILL HAVE GUNS DRAWN WITH FULL PERMISSION TO SHOOT IF NEEDED. EVERYONE STAND UP. NOW, IN AN ORDERLY FASHION, YOU WILL EXIT INTO THE AISLE AND WALK OFF THE TRAIN INTO THE OPEN AREA. GIRLS GO TO THE LEFT. BOYS GO TO THE RIGHT. NOW MOVE IT!,” the sergeant demanded.
         Everyone stood up, then one by one, we exited the train car. As I got off the train, there were at least fifteen officers with guns drawn. As I headed to the designated area, I accidentally bumped into something. Looking up, it's a very tall man, looks to be about six-foot-nine. He has wild red hair, with an unshaven face.
         He turns around. “Hey, who did that? Who bumped into me?”
         “Um, I did. Down here?”
         “Don’t do that! Alright, punk? ALRIGHT?!”
         A guard walks over. “Calm down, Bruno. He did nothing to hurt you.”
         Ignoring the guard, Bruno continues. “If you do so much as touch me again, you are going to regret it.”
         “BRUNO. STOP. NOW, before you get shot.”
         “Fine,” he grumbles, walking off.
         “I apologize for the confusion. Just try to draw away from him from here on out. He is notorious for keeping grudges,” the guard warns.
         “Thank you offi-” Out of nowhere, a foghorn sounds, startling me.
         “NOW! ONE BY ONE, YOU PRISONERS WILL BOARD THE LINER,” the sergeant screams. Slowly, everyone boards the steamer.
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