The REAL Chapter Seven of the Story

The smell of grease and fried food swirled around her. The buzz of human speech bounced around in the tiny enclosure. Of all the meeting places, she thought. Attempting to ignore the entire fast food restaurant—or at least to appear to—she pushed earphones into place and poked a few buttons on the mp3 player.
Elliot’s hair stabbed the air with purple-tipped black spikes. Flashy green and black clothes adorned her body, and bangles jangled every time she so much as inhaled. Everyone glanced at the young punk in the corner. Everyone quickly looked away when her hazel eyes met theirs.
Elliot smiled to herself. She thought she’d done well on her appearance today. The wig looked real and her clothes were perfect. It was so outlandish she got no more than a few glances, and those weren’t for very long. The only things any one would remember were her clothes, hair style, and jewelry. No one would be able to tell anyone else about her face.
Her eyes darted to the door every few seconds as she waved French fries to an imaginary beat. They were quite late. After the majority of the fries had disappeared, she drummed her fingers on the table’s sticky surface. Sighing, she stood to get yet another refill. She mentally noted it was the fifth time she had moved from her seat in the booth.
With a huff, Elliot slid into her seat again. She had just banged the paper cup on the table when the door opened. A tall, lean man with his head held so high one would think he owned the world strode in. He ordered—or demanded—a meal and sauntered to the table in front of Elliot’s. The man took one glance at her bobbing, spiky head and sat down. It would appear she wouldn’t need the earring Benjamin had given her.
Several minutes later, a small man with shifty eyes slinked in. His head jerked back and forth until the server finally asked what he wanted to order. He jumped and quietly ordered in a squeaky voice. After two toe-tapping minutes, he slinked over to the table with the tall man in it. He squeaked out a hello and bent over his food. It was completely devoured in a minute with the man looking as if he expected it to be his last meal.
Mentally, Elliot flipped through the files as she watched them through her compact’s mirror while pretending to touch up the extravagant eye makeup. The tall man was Serpent’s leader and the small man looked somewhat familiar. Apparently satisfied with her make-up, she snapped it closed and slurped on her drink’s straw.
Dante Vang watched the other eat with his nose wrinkled for several seconds. In a polished and refined voice, he demanded, “If you’re quite finished, I’d like to begin.”
The other lifted his head and jerked it up and down.
“So? What do you have?”
The smaller man whipped his sleeve across his mouth. His eyes darted around before he replied, “They’re on to your little group.”
“Indeed?” The sarcasm dripped in his smooth voice. Vang steepled his fingers. “What else do you have that I am already painfully aware of?”
The small man blinked at the other for several slow seconds. “Do you want the information, or not?” he mumbled.
The other rolled his eyes and let out a long sigh. “I’ve already paid you, haven’t I?”
The smaller one nodded and continued after glancing around. “Well, they’ve got a man inside your group.” He nodded knowingly.
“Have they?” His face was controlled, and only his eyebrows showed the slightest bit of emotion by lifting slightly.
Jerking his head up and down, the smaller man replied, “Yes. His name—” he glanced quickly around “—is Agent Swanson. He goes by Jack Kenneth in your group.”
Elliot nearly choked on her coke. Recovering, she took several deep breaths. She had been right. They knew about Jerin.
“Jack Kenneth is one of theirs?!” Dante Vang man roared in a quiet voice. The other bobbed his head again while Vang took a breath. “I can’t believe that. I trusted him! He was one of my personal favorites.” Placing his fingers on his temples, the tall man shook his head. “Then there’s only one thing to do. I’ll have a friend of mine take him out tonight.”
This time, Elliot really did choke on her coke.
The tall man turned around and grabbed her by the shirt. “You got a problem little punk?!”
She attempted to stammer out a reply while still choking on her drink. Peering at her, the little man suddenly exclaimed, “Look out! She’s one of them!”
That was when she remembered where she had seen him before. The small, balding man had ridden in the elevator at the Agency’s headquarters. Elliot fought her way out of the tall man’s grasp. She grabbed her coke from the table and threw it at him. It splashed over his face, impairing his vision for a few seconds. With thoughts only of getting out and warning Jerin, she scrabbled out the door. She was nearly out the door when a gun went off and a white-hot pain filled her side. Screaming and panic filled her ears as she pushed out the door. Vision blurring, she flipped open her cell phone and hit speed dial.
When Benjamin picked up, she yelled, “They know about Jerin! Get him out tonight! They know! Get him out!”
As she slid to the ground in the alleyway adjacent to the restaurant, Benjamin asked worried questions. He received no answer. Elliot lay on the ground, slowly losing consciousness. As the darkness began to swirl around in her brain, she heard a voice say, “Do you think she was able to warn him?”
“Yes,” answered a smooth voice. “I have no doubt the little punk did.”
“What should we do with her?”
The darkness consumed her, and Elliot lost consciousness.

------
Gasp! The story's picking up speed, no?
So, hopefully my little April Fool's day joke didn't freak anyone out. My friend told me she wanted to read a story where the main character died, and I should kill some one off. I told her to go read "All Quiet on the Western Front." Psssssh. Friends these days.