So I made this little story for English.  I got a really good grade on it!  I suck at naming though, so I used names from Fullmetal...

A lot of things are annoying, but one of them? Walking into a room and forgetting why you were there. But there are things far worse than that, like trying to shoot someone and missing. Doing that could mean my job. What's my job? I'm glad you asked. I kill people for a living. My name? Well, let's go with Riza for now. Riza Hawkeye. At least, that's what I was called before all this happened. Now? I'm just the Hawk's Eye.

I swept my gun across the field, looking for him. I needed to find him, before he found me. Silently, I loaded a bullet into the chamber. The rustling of the bush behind me caught my attention. I pretended to scan the field until I heard a single footstep directly behind me. In one swift motion, I whirled around and yanked my knife out of the holster. I pressed it against the pale skin on his neck, and laughed.

"Gotcha! I told you I was better at 'assassination classroom!'" My brother groaned and handed over the 50 cents we had bet. Assassination classroom is a game we play, where we have to "assassinate" each other. My small, 13 year old self struggled with sliding the knife back in, but my big brother, Roy, slid it in for me. He was 19, but he was my best friend. We did everything together. Today was the last day before he was deployed to the other side of the world...For 3 years. He had just come back after 5 months, and I had barely been able to stand that. How was I going to get through my brother being gone for so long? I sighed, thinking it over as we walked home, the setting sun turning the knee height grass golden.

2 months later...

I leaned against the window, bored. All I could think about was Roy. Why can't he just stay home? Why did he go into the military? Questions rang through my head as my mother walked in.

"Riza? Can I speak with you? It's about your brother." I jumped up, joy flooding my body before I saw Mom's tear streaked face. Confusion, and then disbelief.

"No. He can't. He-He..." I paused, my vision blurring with tears.

"HE PROMISED!" I screamed before collapsing to the ground. I don't know how long I sat there crying, but eventually, I woke up from sleeping, my back sore from sleeping on the floor. I stood up shakily and stumbled to the front door. As soon as it was closed, I ran as fast as I could to the hill where I had last won assassination classroom. I had won.

"He promised he wouldn't die..." I croaked, my head pounding from the pain of crying for hours. As if a cork had been pulled, I felt all emotion drain out. I was numb. I turned and walked back into the house, careful not to slam the door. All I could think of was the gun resting on the display on my wall. I climbed in bed and fell asleep.

*5 years later*

The same gun rested in my arms, and I aimed it at the target. Now, shooting was a pass time. I shot a bullseye 3 times in a row. The phone in my balk pocket buzzed, telling me I had a text. I pulled it out and unlocked it. I opened up the conversation.

Next Target: Roy Hawkeye

I stopped, and felt the first emotion in years. Rage. My boss was the only person I trusted, and Roy Hawkeye was dead. He had been dead for a long time. I threw my phone into the air and shot it. The screen cracked, and the bullet went straight through the screen. The phone slammed into the ground, breaking apart. The gorilla glass screen was on one side of the room while the motherboard and back was against the opposite wall.

"Bullet proof my-"

"Lieutenant Hawkeye."

I turned around and my superior was leaning against the wall, glaring at me. My face turned red with rage, but I knew that if I yelled at him, my job would go out the window. His cliche trench coat rustling as he moved.

"You never did listen to what your mother told you that day, did you? Your brother isn't dead, and we never told you he was," His deep voice calmed me down a little, but his words just ignited the inferno, making it grow. I couldn't restrain myself anymore.

"HOW DARE YOU!" I screamed. I was so mad, I couldn't even speak. I kept mumbling those 3 words as I glared daggers at him. I was seeing red, and I didn't think I was going to calm down anytime soon. I walked past him, shoving my shoulder into his, forcing him out of my way

"Riza Hawkeye, you will come back here now." The edge in his voice scared me. I had never heard him this mad before, but then, I had never disobeyed a direct order before. I turned and stood at attention, ready to hear what he was going to say.

"You will kill this man. As soon as you walk out of this room, he is no longer Roy Hawkeye, your older brother. He is just another target. You kill him, you get the cash, you move on, just like everyone else."

I walked out of the room, and then the building, climbing onto my motorcycle and raced off. The figure of my boss stood in the doorway of my favourite range, watching me.

The next day:

I stood in the abandoned building, watching the doorway to the theatre. My target had walked in there at approximately 13 o'clock, and it was now 15 o'clock. The barrel of my trusty sniper, the same one that had won all those games of assassination classroom against me, my brother's gun, swpt the horizon, waiting for him to come out. The doors opened, and a crowd of people walked out, and trailing at the back was my brother. Before I could think, my finger clicked off the safety and slid back over the trigger. I pulled it, and the sudden explosion scared me. I cursed under my breath. The suppressor! I thought. I had forgotten to put the suppressor on. I jumped out the window onto the pavement only one floor below. The dust on the ground of the alley exploded around my black combat boots as I ran. The police would be arriving at the movie theatre soon enough, and I had to get there before they did. I pulled my scarf over my nose just before I bursted out into the sunlight. My gun was slung over my back, and people screamed. I grabbed the man and hurriedly pulled him over my shoulders. I ran to my motorcycle as fast as possible while holding a person, and put him in the seat behind me. I looked in my pack and grinned at the tranquilizer bullets. I swung my leg over the seat and revved the engine. The dust that had just settled exploded into the air once again as I drove home.

My house was a quiet large abandoned container from a warehouse that I had patched up and made comfy. Using plywood, I had made a second floor on top of an empty container, and personalized the inside with Overwatch posters, and drawings. The opposite wall had a bulletin board for information and pictures of my current targets. A rack with a curtain was screwed to the walls, spanning the length of the whole container that served as my bedroom wall. Screwed to that pole was a rack of hangers for my clothing. A small, makeshift bed made of a cheap mattress and more plywood was in the far right corner. I had screwed a metal ladder I had found in another container to the wall, and had sawed a hole in the top. My office was up there, with a scanner, an expensive computer, and a desk, complete with a navy blue swivel chair that I had fastened to the plywood so I didn't roll off the container by accident.

I flung my sniper onto my floor, and dropped Roy on my bed. He groaned, and I climbed up to my office and opened one of the desk draws that held my medical supplies. I grabbed a roll of gauze and some needle-nose pliers, as well as my medical kit. I climbed back down and cut his blood soaked shirt off before pulling the tranquilizer case out of his side. Blood began to pour out, not as much as I was expecting though. I grabbed my suturing equipment and stitched the wound closed before wiping away the blood and wrapping his side in gauze. I covered him in a blanket and sat down, leaning against the bed, and opened my favourite book, Where the Red Fern Grows.

"Who are you and where are am I?" The voice sounded almost exactly as I remembered it.

"Heya Roy. I found your gun," I responded, smiling up at him.

"Riza? What are you doing in a place like this?"

"I live here, idiot."

"What happened to Mom and Dad?"

I shrugged, mainly because I didn't want to tell them they had died. I hadn't killed them, but I had been careless with the oil lamp, and it had spilled all over the hallway carpet. Before I could get them out, the fire had spread, blocking the hallway, and their escape. The coward I was, I had ran. I didn't get a bucket of water, or a fire extinguisher.

"Oh...by the way, I know what you do for a living, and I knew you were after me." I looked up in shock, and he kissed the top of my head, just like he did when I was a kid.

"I knew as soon as I saw that name...The Hawk's Eye? You used the nickname I gave you when I taught you how to shoot. Good times, eh?" I nodded, and he stood up. He began talking about going to his house, and I nodded.

"That sounds good. Yeah. Let's do that, Roy. Let's go home."