I yawn and stretch before rolling over and finding...nothing. "Yeah that's right," I mutter bitterly, "She left you last week fool." I pick up the pillow and hug it. Yep, it still smells like Marissa. She left me because I was 'too unfeeling' I believe is how she put it. Apparently I'm so absorbed in work I wasn't giving her enough attention. Ah screw it! I throw the pillow at the wall and lie back, covering my face with my hand. Marissa's words still echo in my ears. After 4 years together she just decided to up and leave. In my heart knew she was cheating on me with that lawyer guy but I didn't want to believe it, guess it really was true. I'll never trust a woman with my heart again, it's just too damn painful when they rip it out. Luckily for me I saw it coming months ago. I was just too much of a coward to end it myself.

I drag myself out of bed and stumble down the stairs. The phone rings and I answer it with a growl, "West here." I walk to the fridge and pull it open, grabbing the milk carton and taking a swig.

"Scarecrow you're needed." Harold Richards's voice boomed down the phone and I gulped down the milk in surprise. "The Hegemann murder" he continued "We had three SCIT members out there doing a crime scene check when someone tried to kill one of them."

I put the carton down on the table and took a deep breath "Who?"

"Detective Jagan Cover." his voice lowered "It's an ugly one this time Scarecrow. My daughter was one of the three members there. She doesn't have the experience to cope with an investigation like this without getting hurt. I know people think she's only in SCIT because she's my daughter but she's smart. She knows what she's doing, she just doesn't know how to stay safe while doing it. I've assigned you to SCIT on a permanent basis. You need to get to the airport this afternoon. You're going to Michigan. I'll email you the case briefs."

I sit down heavily on a chair in my kitchen. "Why? What can possibly make me want to work for SCIT?" I feel a little angry now that this has been dropped on me so fast. "Bethany." one word was all he had to say and I was in. "She was one of the three there this morning when they blew the car up with the rocket launcher."

"They blew a car up with a rocket launcher??!!" I jumped to my feet. "Is Beth ok?"

I heard him take a deep breath and I steel myself for bad news. "She's fine." I relax"She's just in shock."

"I'll bet." I mutter. "Be at the airport Steve." he hangs up.

I look at the phone in surprise at his use of my first name. Not many people use it anymore. Let me explain, my name is Steve West, I earned the nickname Scarecrow three years ago on a particular mission that I wont go into detail about. I'm taller then average and I've got dark hair that's just long enough to reach my eyebrows. My eyes are a pale green that fades into grey and I have a long scar running from the base of my ear down my left arm to my elbow. I've been asked to join SCIT before but I refused, field combat and hostage retrieval was more my thing, I had medals for it, medals and titles I refused to acknowledge. But now.... I pull on a pair of grey combats and tug on a black tshirt over my tanned skin. Running a hand through my hair I turn towards the dresser and open it, taking my gun and ID out and slipping them into my pocket.

A photograph catches my eye as I turn to leave and I pick it up and look at it. I'm sitting beside a girl with dark hair and bright smiling eyes. The two of us are laughing at something someone else said. I haven't seen her since I got out of hospital two and a half years ago. She refused to speak to me until I quit my job because she was afraid I'd get killed. Bet she hadn't counted on hers being just as dangerous.

"Oh Beth." I murmur "Why did you join SCIT?" I sigh as I replace the photograph and grab my backpack before walking out of the house. Hmm..Danielle Richards, I wonder what she looks like? If she's anything like I've heard I'm probably going to end up hating her. She'd better be easy to get along with. One mention of the word Daddy and I'll shoot her myself. I forgot to mention that I'm quite distant, it comes with the job, I don't get attached easily, it saves the trauma of having to say goodbye and watch your friend get lowered six feet into the ground, and feeling like it was your fault they got put there.

The woman across the road stares at me over the top of her son's head as she carries him out to her car. He starts crying and throws his bottle of juice at the door. "Another day, another drama." I yank open the door to my black Enzo and slide into the driver's seat. Speed and power. I needed both if I was going to look after my little sister properly. Beth better not ignore me when she sees me. After all, technically I have quit my job, now I've got one like hers, and if she ignores me still, it's hypocrisy.

The End

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