Terrorist

"Agent Halifax, terminal A is this way," Steve points in the direction of the A gates.
Fuck, my first day on the job and I already have no idea where I'm going on my own home base. Way to go Sierra.
Seventeen years ago, I was born to two Federal Agents working undercover to stop a secret terrorist op in Tajikistan. They were both killed by a suicide bomber in Washington DC when I was seven. Normally these circumstances would not come up for someone so young, but my parents were Dan and Grace Halifax, who are considered martyrs to our unit. I was born with crime-solving blood, and at the ripe age of seventeen, I am now working for the same unit my parents did, reliving their legacy. I put my life on the line for the justice of terrorism everyday just like they did. And that's the best thing that could ever unfold for me.
I am in my hometown of Cincinnati, Ohio, my first day on the scene as an official agent. A suspicious man was seen checking into an international flight from here to the United Kingdom, and we were ordered to keep tabs. We take our seats at gate A48 in our normal clothes, badges and guns tucked in our belts across our bellies.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a group of biker guys in black everything checking in at the counter. My kind of people!
Wait. That deep, rough voice. I recognize it. From a band. So many hours of watching interviews and I can't place it.
The group turns around and my heart stops.
It's Black Veil Brides.

Notes