Also available on my wattpad account, DamonSalvatoresGirl

I Am Expendable

Parker Ross was no ordinary seventeen year old. For one, she was, well, a she. You wouldn't really think it, with a name like Parker, but what can you do when your mom was pretty much psychotic 99% of the time?

As for number two, well. She was a mercenary. You know the ones you pay us; we kill whoever, she rolls with the best in the business, has done since her first mission when she was thirteen. Pretty young, but she was never much of a kid anyway, when your Mom kills herself it kind of takes away your childhood, not that she really knew that much about her mom anyway. She much preferred her dad.

Parker could usually be found with some sort of lethal weapon in her hands, a drink in the other and a smoking cigarette hanging out the side of the twisted, snarling lips she inherited from her dad, Barney Ross. Of course these weren't their real names, she's always been Parker, but she'd lost track of the surnames, the states of birth, and the birthdays. She didn't care that much anyway. There wasn't really much she cared about really, who has time to care when you're expendable?

She didn't really care that much about what she looked like, she knew she was totally working the rugged, reckless unkempt look, with long tousled dark brown hair, Italian-American skin, pouty lips the image of her dads, a straight nose that had seen a few breaks and heavy lidded brown eyes. She was tall and lean muscled.

School was a place that didn't really like Parker. She didn't like it either. She tended not to go there much, her dad or one of the guys, usually Lee, would sometimes look up suddenly and say "Shouldn't you be at school, kid?" she'd shrug and curse, which was another thing Parker could often be found doing. If colourful language was the game, her mouth was a back of fucking skittles. She didn't have any friends, she didn't want any either. She had people who were either too scared to come near her or too scared to leave her side. She went to a tough school in New Orleans, but the kids there knew not to fuck with her or else. Some of the teachers needed to learn that, too.

The new guidance councillor had arrived last Tuesday, she was from the rich suburbs, hyped up on all her government scheme save the street kids shit, it may have worked in previous schools, but here it was going to be a dead loss. She had some white trash name and drove an obnoxious orange prius, and had made a beeline for the student records, and guess whose name had come out right on top of the list of no hopers? Parker's.

She had a plan for that, though. Today was Tuesday, and a few weeks ago a new mission had just come up on the schedule in Somalia. The whole team was shipping out at lunch today, swinging by school to pick her up. So when this new guidance councillor cornered her, bam, she could have a taste of the batshit crazy, drug addled Gunnar Jensen. Hey, she'd done it before; she got a really good sense of power, seeing the teachers who had been acting all high and mighty five minutes before, telling her how she was going nowhere, she'd be held back, quake at the sight of Barney Ross and his boys, the expendables.

She grinned at this as she lit up her first cigarette of the day. It fell into position, hanging out of the side of her permanent, lopsided snarl. She ran her fingers through her hair and threw on some black jeans, the usual battered black docs and beaten up black leather jacket and a shredded Ramones t shirt, took the nondescript black bag and repeated the drill of packing for a mission, two hand guns, a few throwing knives, black leggings that had never failed her yet, a plain black t shirt and thick bulletproof vest. She looked down at the floor, where just below was Tool's tattoo parlour, next door was a bar and on the other side was the garage that held her dad's '55 ford pickup truck and a range of other weapons that could cause all kinds of delicious chaos.

She looked back in the mirror, and down at her arms. She got my first tattoo, illegally of course, when she was fourteen, then she got the bug real bad, pestering Tool all the time for new ideas, and he went a little crazy artist on her too, resulting in some very beautiful ink.

Extending from her wrist to the crook of the elbow was a half sleeve consisting of intricately decorated Mexican sugar skulls, beautiful jewel coloured hummingbirds and butterflies extending to a star surrounding my elbow. Down one thigh was a peacock feather, and one shoulder blade half a skull with a crow sat on top of it, a copy of the ones spray painted onto the team's motorcycles and being finished off on her dad's back, the words 'The Expendables' was in a banner across it. She also had a swallow on her left ankle, an anchor on each thumb, a small diamond on her ring finger, a thick plain cross on each middle finger and a bright red rose on the back of her right hand, in the back of the left hand was a vintage style red heart, one you would usually see with 'Mom' written inside it, but hers said 'Dad', and he had one on his bicep, it didn't say 'Parker' though, it said 'Kid', since that's what he called her most of the time.

School had a lot to say about them, but hey, it wasn't like she was washing them off anytime soon. They called social services; let's say social services were keenly diverted away from the current Ross residence by rather forceful means.

she stepped up to the bar across her door and started the thirty reps of pull-ups she did every morning, then fell to the floor to do some press-ups, sit-ups and then grabbing the bag and out of the room and down the stairs, knocking off the ash of the cigarette in an ashtray as she went.

Tool and her dad were sat at the round wooden kitchen table, empty beer bottles on the table from last night. "Morning kid." Tool said, dad didn't turn round, she could see smoke billowing round his head from a cigar, which told her he was thinking. "Hey." She said, going to the fridge. Opening the door, her eyes widened for half a second. She pressed her lips together in a firm line and nodded. "Wow. Tool, you never cease to amaze me. Seriously." She turned around to Tool and dad, who were both watching her, picking up the pair of red lace panties gingerly with her thumb and finger and threw them at Tool, and Barney gave a wry smile and shook his head. Tool shrugged. She pulled out the bottle of orange juice and held the cigarette between two fingers as she took a gulp. Tool pocketed the underwear; he was a serial womanizer, practically a new young pretty girl every night, on his quest to find 'the one'. It got a little awkward when the girl stopped to chat and Parker would recognize her from last year's graduating class or some shit.

"What time are you picking me up?" she asked Barney

"Around noon." He said out of the corner or his mouth. "Take the bike and we'll put it in the truck."

"Sure thing. What time does Lee get here?" she asked. Lee Christmas was Parker's second father. He taught her how to throw knives when she was six and gave her a pearl handled bowie knife for her eighth birthday

"About eleven we're meeting up. You got your stuff?"

"Uh huh."

"You got everything? I sure as hell aint turning around when we get to Ethiopia because you forgot something." He growled

"Jesus Christ, I have everything." She rolled her eyes. He stubbed the end of his cigar out on the table, pointing at her "Don't you talk to me like I'm one of your little punks, I'm your father, show some respect." He demanded

"Yeah dude fine, whatever." She said. "I gotta go, I'm gonna be late."

"Sit down and eat something first."

"I don't have time; I'm going to be late." She complained

"When has that ever bothered you before?" he asked

"Jeeze, thought you would be interested in me receiving a decent education." She smirked, grabbing a pop tart out of the cupboard and popping it into the toaster. Her dad was really old fashioned. And old, now you think about it. Very old, actually. If your described him to someone, they'd think he was thirty at the most, but he's nearly sixty. He doesn't look it from the neck down if Parker was honest. His biceps were bigger than her thighs.

"What do you need an education for? You got a job." Tool asked "I never got no education, and I'm fine." The toaster popped up and she ate the pop tart leaning against the counter.

"So, the feds waited until now to call us in?" she asked "It's been three months since the ship was taken hostage."

"They like to keep them waiting, think they'll demand less."

"Didn't quite go to plan this time though."

"Well yeah, why do you think they're sending you in?" Tool said

"Good point. Now I really got to go. Got some new guidance councillor, she's been here like two days and she thinks she runs the show."

"Let me guess, she'd gunnin' for you, kid?" Barney asked in his low rumble of a voice

"Don't they all? Cornered me on Friday, told me she was going to arrange a 'formal consultation' for today, told me she was gonna call you in so we could talk about my future or something. That she thought you'd be thrilled for the opportunity to meet with her."

Dad grinned "And what did you say?" Tool asked, chuckling

"I told her when hell freezes the fuck over." Parker said, gesturing wildly with her cigarette

"That's my girl!" tool raises his hand for a high five, she slapped it and called out goodbye as she headed to the garage.

…Jake….

"Please, honey, just bear with us. We know this isn't ideal right now, but it'll get better, I promise."

"Whatever Mom. We're poor now, I get it." I sighed and looked out the window of the second hand Chevrolet we'd had to sell the range rover for. I looked at the school. Recently, my dad lost all his money on the stocks, and we'd had to move to the most deprived neighbourhood in New Orleans. Away from my private school and friends who played polo and owned yachts.

The school was an ugly squat grey concrete building, with a huge ten foot tall chain link fence topped with barbed wire all over it. There were bars on the windows that I could see from across the street. The kids walking in through the gates all looked like the ones you'd cross the street to avoid, and the car park was full of old beaten up cars that were probably handed down through generations. "Now, are you sure you don't want me to come in with you, talk to the principal?" My mom asked, concerned. My mom used to be really pretty and young looking, now she had to stop going to the salon and couldn't afford decent clothes, and she had worry lines on her forehead and grey hair sewn into the once healthy and styled chestnut brown hair.

I honestly hated this, more than anything. It was just so wrong. This wasn't my life. "No, I'll be fine." I said, picking up my backpack and making to get out of the car. "Ok, try to have a nice day." She looked like she was going to cry, aw man this sucked. I got out of the car and walked across the road and through the gate to the school. I looked around for a main entrance, but there didn't seem to be one. I stood on the parking lot, looking around hoping someone would help me.

I looked around then for the popular kids, if I could get in with them then maybe I wouldn't get stabbed or mugged or something. Only, the thing was, there were tons of kids milling around, the first bell hadn't gone yet so everyone was talking or doing something less than legal, but there didn't seem to be a popular group. Everyone just seemed to be popular. Like there were seriously no dorks or preps or emos or any of the usual stuff. There were grouped like that sure, but they weren't cold shouldering each other, or fighting, and people moved from group to group, stuff I didn't want to look at was being exchanged. But then everyone seemed to stop as a huge engine growled outside the gates, everyone either looked outright, or shot furvative glances behind them. I stood like an idiot on my own as an amazing, even by my standards, motorbike.

I wasn't big on motorbikes, so I didn't know what it was, but it was big and loud, painted a glossy black with a skull with a raven on top on the side. There were words on the underneath of the decal but I couldn't read them. A girl got off the bike, took off the helmet and shook out all the long tousled hair. I had to work to keep my jaw closed. The girl was tall, with kind of dark skin, maybe a bit of Latina in there somewhere, she was toned and as she took the helmet off, her Ramones t shirt rode up a little, showing very defined abs and an outie belly button. She wore dark jeans and black doc martens, and hefted a black canvas bag off the back of the bike, displaying an arm of ink as she did so, her hands bore two red things I couldn't make out, and there were dark marks on the couple of her fingers which I couldn't make out but they were probably tattoos as well.

Whoa, I was not expecting that on my first day. Because this girl was so anti cool in a kind of fifties greaser yet nineties grunge way that it almost hurt. People watched as she walked up the steps to the school, so that busted old door was the entrance? Huh, who would've guessed? Kids from different groups split up from their own and followed her, then so did everyone else, as the bell went. I walked inside practically last, and a man in a cheap suit with a bald patch was waiting at the small reception desk. I stopped in front of him. "You must be Jake Grover?" he asked, smiling.

"Yeah." I said

"Welcome to Louis Armstrong Park High!" he said cheerfully. He looked like he actually enjoyed working in this rundown, crappy place. Strange. "If you'd like to follow me to your homeroom." He said, leading me down a corridor with fluorescent lighting that flickered every so often and linoleum floors that had been worn down so bits of floorboard were showing through. We arrived at room 107, and he opened the door.

There was chatter going on, someone had Tupac playing quietly in the background, and a young teacher with curly brown hair and a nose piercing sat at the desk, nose buried in a battered paperback, she smiled at me, showing dimples. "Miss Gonzalez, this is the new student I was telling you about, Jake, this is Miss Gonzalez." I heard the door close behind me.

"Hey Jake, it's nice to meet you, we get twenty minutes of homeroom every day, and you can use this time however you like. Today you can pick a person to shadow, and then that'll be your class schedule until midterms, where we can assess you properly." She smiled again, I nodded and she turned back to her book. I looked around the room. People were lounging off desks and talking, no one really noticed. A cloud of smoke was hovering in the back corner. It cleared, and there was the motorbike girl, cards in her hand and a cigarette hanging out of the side of her lips. Her face was probably one of the most striking things I'd ever seen. It wasn't classically pretty or beautiful, but you couldn't really look away.

She had big brown eyes which were thickly lashed and heavy lidded, slightly drooping. I long nose which looked like it had been broken too many times, high, defined cheekbones and very full lips that drooped to one side, in a permanent snarl where the smoke seemed to fit right in. she was playing with a Rastafarian looking boy with dreadlocks and a tie dyed grateful dead t shirt. She looked up and met my eyes, her eyes slid to an empty desk next to her.

She wanted me to sit there?

Well, it seemed like I didn't have a choice because every other seat was taken. I walked over silently, vans making no noise on the floor, and slid into the heavily graffitied desk. She exhaled a stream of smoke which I accidentally inhaled and started coughing. The teacher looked up. "Parker, crack a window at least, Jesus." She said.

The girl didn't look up from the cards, but held a middle finger inked with a cross up at the teacher. This was obviously and every day thing, because the teacher gave it right back, and they both smirked. The girl, Parker stood up and slammed the creaky, stiff window open. She came and sat back down. I broke the silence. "Parker's a strange name for a girl." I said

"I agree." She said, slamming the cards down on the dreadlocked guys desk, and turning round to face me. "What's your name?" she asked

"Jake."

"Nothing really strange about that." She said

"I know."

"But what is strange is why a guy wearing legit Ralph Lauren polo's to school is doing in a dump like this?" She stared right into my eyes; something told me she'd know if I lied. I just shrugged.

"Huh, whatever." She shrugged right back. Her voice was a low growl with a touch of something like Audrey Hepburn falsetto

"So, I uh, need someone to go to class with today, and I haven't really spoken to anyone else."

"Yeah, sure you can stalk me. But heads up, I'm outta here at eleven." She said with a wicked smile that was more just a jerk of one side of her lips.

"Why, where are you going?" I asked, juvie, probably I thought

"Somalia." She answered. I was a little shocked, like, it was just so random

"With who?"

"My dad and some…Family friends." She said sinisterly.

"What, are you like in the mafia or something?" I asked, I could totally see her being some mafia badass daughter. She laughed, a throaty chuckle "Something like that." She said, as the bell rang, people ambled to their feet and out of the door.

I followed Parker. "What do we have first?" I asked, actually quite excited to see what it would be like here. "Maths. But don't be too downcast, Mr Reid is awesome." She grinned as we climbed a flight of stairs, weaving through the crowds to a square classroom with windows on every wall. A man about thirty was behind the desk, he had light brown hair and was wearing a blue shirt rolled up at the sleeves with no tie and the top button undone, something that simply wasn't done in my old school.

Parker took a seat on the third row, I took the one behind her, next to a girl with coffee coloured skin and intricate braids down to her waist, I tapped Parker on the shoulder, she whipped round "What?" she asked, as more people filed through the door. "Are you allowed to smoke?" I asked, unbelievably she still had the cigarette in her mouth. "As long as I'm near a window, yeah." she shrugged. I raised my eyebrows. "Well, it depends on the teacher. Gonzalez drinks at the same bar as my Dad and his buddies, so do a few other teachers, and Mr Reid is partial to a Marlboro every now and then, the rest think I should be locked away but whatever."

"And the tattoos aren't they like, illegal under eighteen?"

"Yeah. My uncle owns a tattoo shop. I like tattoos. Not much to tell." She flipped a few stray hairs away from her face with her left hand, showing a vintage style heart with 'dad' inscribed in it.

"Daddy's girl much?" I asked, trying to joke "Does your mom not feel left out, or it she on your right?"

"My Mom killed herself when I was a kid." She said, deadpanned

"Oh, right, sorry."

"Don't worry about it, she was a psycho anyway."

"Excuse me for saying, but is your dad really any better? You don't look like you have a lot of parental guidance."

"I have plenty parental guidance, my Dad's the best."

"Oh yeah? He teach you how to ride a bike without training wheels, throw a football around with you?" I asked, these were the things my dad had done with me, and I figured most people's dads did with them when they were kids.

"Nope." She said

"See?" I said. I wondered whether I was overstepping the line a little, I'd only met her this morning, but she seemed to be pretty open about this stuff. "But he did teach me to throw a bowie knife from twenty feet and reload a handgun in less than three seconds."

I felt my mouth hang open and thanked God that Mr Reid decided to start teaching then.

Apparently we were doing circle theorems, something I'd already studied last semester, so I was pretty much free to tune in and out, looking at everyone in front of me, including the back of Parker's head. On one of her shoulder blades, poking out through the cut off sleeves of her vest top come t shirt was the same skull as on her bike, with a raven sitting on top of it. The words 'The Expendables' were in an old looking banner underneath. It was a strange tattoo to have, I wondered what it meant.

The Bell went quicker than I expected and I was surprised to see it had been an hour, and as we walked to biology, Parker was looking around pretty shiftily, hefting her bag higher on her shoulder. "What's up?" I asked, as she looked around a corner before walking down it quickly, leaving me jogging to keep up. "New guidance councillor wants to see me and my dad. I'd rather not have to get Gunnar to step in one this one, or any of them for that matter." She said this more to herself than to me.

"Wait, who's Gunnar?"

"Just someone. He happens to be a bit on the unstable side, so if you see me with a really tall crazy looking blonde guy, walk the other way." She said, slipping into an old fashioned lab.

The Labs in my old school were full of the newest and best equipment, our teachers were all fully trained scientists with PhD's or whatever, but this looked like it hadn't seen a lick of paint since the seventies and had a computer that looked like something out of an old, low budget sci fi movie. The teacher looked like he was from an old sci fi movie, too. I noticed Parker had got rid of her smoke pretty quickly out of the open window. I guess he was a teacher that didn't like her as much as the first two I'd met seemed too.

She looked at the clock; it was now half past ten. She drummed her fingers on the desk, as the old man walked round handing back pieces of homework. Parker got hers back last; he surveyed me, then nodded, and turned back to Parker. "Dismal effort, Ross. And work on your presentation. I don't want you doing biology homework while under the lid of your dad's clapped out mustang next time." I looked at the crumpled worksheet on Osmosis, which had tattered edges and motor oil stains. "Guess again. My dad drives a '55 ford F-100." She trilled as he sniffed in distaste and walked away. He made it back to the front and started to drone on, I tried to pay attention but nobody else was. People seemed to be looking somewhere to my left, at Parker, who was currently flipping round a butterfly knife at a hundred miles a minute, it whizzed around her fingers so fast I couldn't see it properly, and she was gazing out of the window at the parking lot.

There was a knock at the door and a neatly bobbed bottle blonde head popped through the door, followed by a thin well dressed woman who did not fit in at all. This could only be the guidance councillor Parker was trying to avoid, Parker turned to the door, let go of the knife in shock and it flew into the table, amazingly landing stuck blade down into the wood "Shit." She said.

"Hello Mr Branson, I was just wondering whether I could borrow Miss Ross for a second, she seems to have forgotten our appointment." She trilled in an overly sweet voice. Parker pulled the knife out of the table and pocketed it, and picked up her bag off the floor. Mr Branson jerked his head and went on with his lecture. Parker dragged her feet out of the room.

….Parker….

She couldn't have waited just twenty minutes before coming to get me. I could've been out of there till the end of the week, and then I wouldn't have to deal with this now.

On the plus side, the new kid was nice. He had green eyes and dark brown hair that was all…I don't know, cute and swishy. The guidance counsellor said nothing, just expected me to follow her to her office.

I knew the office had a view of the parking lot, so I could watch for my dad and the guys to come from there, but I was going to have to tune out that shrill voice of hers. She opened the door and let me in ahead of her, "Take a seat, Miss Ross." She said, indicating a wooden chair with a padded seat. She took a seat in her cushy leather desk chair, behind a cheerfully neat desk with a tiny collection of teddies you got that bore messages in hearts like 'best teacher' and 'sorry you're leaving'. Whoever had bought these teddies seriously needed help. "Will your father be joining us; it says in my file here he's Barney Ross?"

"Nope. And that's Mr Ross to you." I said, raising an eyebrow. There was no clock in this room. My dad was never late.

"Ah well, this gives us chance to have a more personal session before we do the official stuff." She smiled at me sickeningly

"Whatever."

"So, Parker, tell me, what is school like to you."

"Crap."

"What makes you say that?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Anyway, in your file there's been a lot of unexplained absences, are you playing truant?"

"No, I'm working."

"Working, uh huh." She made a note "And where do you work, Parker?"

"I work with my dad."

"Doing what?"

"Doing none of your damn fucking business, that's what." I shot back

"Well in that case I'm going to have to put you down as truanting."

"Do it." I said, straining to see the school gate.

"Miss Ross." She said, I ignored her "Miss Ross, you need to take this seriously, or I will have to take matters to the principal, and then the superintendant."

"That's fine; seriously I could not care less." I said evenly.

"Do you think your father would have the same view?" she asked, like she'd pulled the winning goal

"Probably." I said, as two black hummers rolled into the parking lot, my heart leaped out of my chest with joy and relief. They pulled up near my bike and loaded it into the trailer attached to the second hummer. "But then again, my dad's an unpredictable guy; you'll have to ask him." I said, jumping out of the chair

"Miss Ross, where are you going?!" she yelled, starting to chase after me as I ran towards the main door. "Somalia!" I yelled behind me, slamming through the doors and practically jumping down the stairs. Lee and Hale had just finished loading the bike as I raced up to them. There was a chorus of "Hey kid." From all directions. Lee gave me a hug; I was closest to him out of everyone, coming second only to my dad. They were best friends, too, so that helped.

"Parker, why is there a woman coming over to us?" Lee asked in his sharp, posh British accent.

"Guidance councillor. We aren't bff's for life, put it that way. Gunnar stuck his head out of the window. The councillor, whose name plate on the door had said Lindsay Maguire, was storming over to us. "Hey Gunnar." I said leaning on the car next to his window. "Fancy taking care of that for me?" I asked, as she approached the car. Hale Caesar, a nearly seven foot tall black man, with Pecs bigger than my head and biceps as big as melons got back in the front seat of the other Hummer. Dad's front seat window rolled down, he peered out, cigarette in his mouth and dark Ray Bans covering his eyes.

"Which of you is this delinquent's father? Mr Ross?" she said loudly and angrily. Lee ran his hand over his shaven bald head. I threw my head back against the big car and rolled my eyes. My dad turned to her. She took a step back. "Can I help you?" he asked from behind the cigar.

"Mr Ross, if your daughter carries on acting the way she does then I will be forced to bring her file to the superintendant, and there could be grievous repercussions of that, involving expulsion and maybe even a trip to a juvenile detention centre."

"Yang, tell me what the hell she's talking about." My dad said, Yin Yang's face appeared at the window. He was a small Chinese man, who was a serious expert at martial arts. I'd not seen anyone beat him at hand to hand combat, and he was like the smartest guy ever.

He said something I couldn't hear.

Dad sighed and blew out a stream of white smoke "Listen, lady, we have places to be. Kid, get in the car." Dad growled at me, Lee shrugged and shook his head at 'Lindsay Maguire' and went back to the other car. I went round the other side and climbed in. "I don't think you understand Mr Ross, your daughter has a very full file which will hinder her later in life, we need to discuss this in full detail and discuss ways we can turn this around, don't you want your daughter have all the chances in life, she needs to have some strict discipline and…" but we were already driving away. "Jesus Christ, where do they find these whack jobs." I complained

"I got no clue."

….

By the time we landed the plane in Somalia, it was quiet and dark... We unloaded the motorized army standard dingy and strapped on bullet proof vests, ammo belts and I put together my sniper, a sharpshooter from the US Military, don't ask how I got my hands on this baby, in record time. This is what I did, and I couldn't imagine not doing it for the rest of my life. Maybe that's strange, but I feel like I have a purpose when I'm doing this.

"Like I said, we're going to take the boat out to the oil rig where the ship's been seized. We'll sneak on board, and surround them when they're in the galley. Give them the money; see if they take the bait, if they don't…"

"Warning shot." Gunnar said, with a menacing smile, holding up a bazooka.

"You shoot that thing before I say and I swear to god, Jensen." My dad threatened, over the plans in the cockpit of the plane. "Yeah yeah, I got it." Gunnar flipped him off. Dad looked over his glasses at him.

"Then we go in." He completed.

"Got it." We agreed as darkness fell and we got in the boat.

The Gulf of Aden in Somalia was all quite, dark and peaceful. The ship that was our target stood out as a solid shape above the water, with lights shining from a few of the portholes. "Kid, what are you seeing?" Lee asked, I put the night vision binoculars and looked at the boat. I pressed the green button that turned it to thermo sensor; we were now bobbing beside the ship. "They're in the galleys. Deck is clear." I said

"Let's move!" Dad said from behind. Hale and Toll shot lines attached to hooks up at the ship, and the hooked on the deck's barrier. I climbed up first, riffle on my back. The iron fibre rope burned my palms as I swung up and up, closer to the ship. The line rocked as the rest of the team began to climb. I swung up and over onto the deck, making only a soft thud. The rest of the team, all being rather heavy men, made a little more noise.

The deck was dirk, but there was just enough lighting from below that we could see the huge, pit like gap. The deck of the ship was surrounding the galley, so we took places all around the edges of the deck, and me and Gunnar set up ready to act as snipers. Though none of the other men were usually snipers, the still pointed all their guns down, ready for anything. The rest of the weapons were at their feet. My bowie knife I'd had for years and took on every mission was in my waistband. We watched as the pirates, tall men with oiled, dark skin and rags around their heads, were stood over the cowering hostages. The one that seemed to be in control started saying things into a video camera.

"We have had these men for too long!" he said angrily in heavily accented English. The captives on the boat were from Somalia, poor men who worked at the oil rig. "Three months! Too, too long." He continued. I flicked safety off.

"Someone here must pay…now! Your company had time to pay, they do not care. You do not care about your people! Don't want them!" he yelled every other words; some other pirates grabbed a man out from the cowering captives. I heard him whimper. I closed one eye and pressed the other to the sight of my gun, choosing to watch from a point where I could fire quickly.

"We do not care!" the man yelled, there were half hearted cheers from the other pirates, the men shouted. The prisoner was pushed to his knees by a pirate. "The blood they bleed, is for you!" the leader said, the pirate who had pushed the prisoner on his knew raised a large knife that caught the moonlight, when the money was thrown down by Lee and my dad in two black holdalls, the pirates went wild, shouting and jeering, and me and Gunnar turned on the red lasers on our guns and prepared.

The pirates were raising their guns but the leader seemed to have more brain cells, and shouted in a foreign language for them to put their guns down. It fell silent. I followed him with my red laser carefully, my eyes still focused down the sight. He raised an open hand; and the two red dots went to it at once. He closed it into a fist and put it over his heart, my finger was on the trigger and ready to pull back. He said something. In his fragmented English, it could have been "Don't shoot me, who is there?" or it could have been about the bags, "What it that?"

Either way, my dad shouted back "There's your money, release the hostages."

"How much in there?" He shouted back up at us

"Three." Dad replied. Meaning million.

"You too late. We want five million!"

"Jesus, we aint even getting five mil for this shit." I whispered to Toll and Gunnar, who were either side of me, they sniggered.

I felt my dad looking at me, I looked up at him, away from the sight, and then the whole team looked at each other, before Lee finally said "Well, what do you know, a greedy pirate."

"Last chance. Take it or leave it." Dad said back down. I put my finger back on the trigger as the pirate raised the knife on the hostage again. I felt Gunnar shifting next to me, but didn't look over too see what he was doing. "We want the money now!" the pirate screamed, I heard t barrel being pulled back, and Gunnar yelled out "Warning shot!"

"No!" I said, it wasn't bad enough for that yet; Jesus Gunnar Jensen was a crazy, trigger happy sun of a bitch. He'd used the one of the big explosive guns, which blew the pirate clean in half. I watched as half of him flew back and hit the wall, I flinched as guts went everywhere, thankful I wasn't down there with the pirates and hostages. Gunnar leant over, surveying his work; he turned to me "A little low."

"You think?" I asked

All out carnage ensued, the pirates started firing up at us, I threw the sniper to the side and picked up my automatic, and the bolt action rifle wouldn't be much use now. I fired back, before picking up a smoke bomb like the rest of the team and flinging them down, the lights went out, and we pulled down the thermal goggles, so we could see and shoot at them, while their vision was completely obscured by the thick white smoke. While they were vulnerable, we abseiled down into the galley and the smoke cleared and the lights flicked back on. There were around seven pirates left, and all the hostages were intact, if a little mentally scarred.

I pointed my gun at each pirate in turn. I didn't know where Gunnar was, maybe he'd found a pirate on deck or something. I had no clue.

"I will kill them all!" a pirate said, holding up the same knife as his dead leader had.

"I swear, I'll kill them! Drop your guns!" the pirate shouted, the other pirates were all pointing their stolen guns at us, they weren't trained so we had the fact they couldn't aim to save their lives.

"Fat chance." Lee said

"Yeah, that'll happen." Toll said

"Let the hostages go, or you're outta there." Dad said, putting one of his two handguns back in its holster. "I'll take the four on the left." Lee said quietly, just to me and dad

"Why don't you take the two on the right and leave the rest alone?" My dad asked, hint of a joke

"You should take the two on the right; you're not that fast anymore." Lee replied. My dad fast the fastest reloader I'd ever seen, "The only thing faster is light."

I snorted "Or Parker." I shrugged, hoisting my gun further into my shoulder

"I will kill them all! I don't care!" The pirate shouted again, pulling us out of our quiet bickering

"We'll see." Lee said, pulling throwing knives out a little further so they were easier to reach

"Bullets go faster than blades." Dad said

We prepared, my finger was on the cold trigger, and the gun was heavy in my arms.

"You want the money?" Dad said "Go get it." The tension reached an all time high, when my cell phone began to vibrate loudly in my top pocket.

"What the hell is that?" dad asked, turning to face me as everyone did. I stood still, staring at the pirate. "I'm getting a text."

"Excuse me?" Dad asked, like it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard

"Kill them!" the Pirate shouted.

Before he could finish his shouting, I took him down with a clean headshot, and the one on the far left only managed to walk forward one step and pull the trigger before he was down with two of my bullets in his heart. I saw knives whizzing towards them, but who they hit, if anyone, I didn't see. Dad fired out heavy bolts, and in a matter of seconds it was over and there was silence. We walked forward together.

"I'd call that a tie." Lee said

"Come on, now way I kicked both your asses" I said, making sure the gun was secure on its strap before letting it hand at my side. "Keep dreaming." Dad said, punching me in the shoulder we surveyed the dead pirates. "Keep dreamin'" Dad said

"Kid, I don't think you hit one of them." Lee said

"It's funny because I don't see any knives." I feigned looking around for knives.

"Hey guys, how you doing?" Gunnar's voice said, my head whipped round, up to the deck, where he stood doing something that I couldn't see, but I feared it wasn't what he'd said in the plane on the way over here.

But, it was. Like said, Gunnar was crazy.

"The hell is he doing?" Dad growled, shining his torch up there.

"Hanging a pirate." I said, lighting a cigarette with a silver Zippo.

"Don't be ridiculous." He said, looking at me in disgust, as a blew out a stream of smoke

"Gunnar! What are you doing?!" Lee shouted, to prove a point

"Hanging a pirate." He shouted back

"Told you so." I said, through the cigarette

"That is seriously demented." Toll said

"That is no good." Yin said, we stared at Gunnar fixing the rope to the live pirate. He was trying to struggle against Gunnar, but

"You're on your own." Lee said, turning back

"Yeah dude, that mess is yours

"Appreciate it; it's good to have family." Dad sighed and looked back up at Gunnar "Gunnar!"

"Yeah?" he yelled down

"This isn't how we work. Let him go."

"Why? He'd do the same to us."

"Gunnar, last chance. Let him go, or we let you go."

I froze, and looked up at Lee. He gave me a sympathetic look, Gunnar was family, and letting go was not in my family vocabulary. "It's good to hang pirates!" It was a medieval kind of thing murder, like that movie pirates of the Caribbean with Orlando Bloom, where they're going to hang all the pirates, including Johnny Depp. "Hey, where's…" I was going to ask where Yin Yang was, but as soon as I heard the first grunt and thud, I knew where he was. Being the moral superior, as usual.

Gunnar and Yang butted heads a whole lot. But this wouldn't end well. Gunnar was at least 5"5; Yang was smaller than me by at least half a head.

I rolled my eyes and turned round, to where my dad was silently climbing the metal stairs, I ran noiselessly after him. Gunnar held Yang over the edge of the deck, bowie knife at his throat reflecting the moon and sky.

Gooseflesh rose down my exposed arms, it was suddenly cold.

I took a small handgun out of my pocket, and put it to the back of Gunnar's head and flicked off the safety. Dad watched, and I knew it was what he expected of me, but it killed me inside knowing that I might have to do this too him. But we couldn't afford to fall apart now.

Gunnar froze as he felt the gun.

"Let him go, Gunnar." I said evenly

"How you doing, kid?"

"Pretty good." I replied

"Your partner here kicked me with steel tipped boots, can you believe that?" He said, I saw the bleeding gash on his face "You deserved it."

"You think I'll need stitches?" he asked

"Probably." I said

"I hate stitches." He said glumly

"You're supposed to hate them." I said

"Hey, you remember when you were nine and you thought it would be a good idea to ride that bike of yours down the fire escape stairs?" He asked, I remembered

"Yeah."

"How many stitches did you have to get again? 60? 70?" he asked. When he said that, I could feel the scar, a thin white line that ran from collar bone to collar bone. It had bled a lot, but I didn't cry one bit. Well, not that anyone saw. "92." I said "But you won't need that many, if you let him go."

"Let him go?" He asked

"Let him go." I reaffirmed. There was a moment where I dared to breathe, but Gunnar sheathed his knife and I clicked safety back on the handgun.

….

On the plane home, Gunnar was tied up at one end of the cabin. It was a small, old plane and I was in my usual seats, like everyone else was in theirs. Dad flying in the cockpit, cigar in mouth, Lee sat in the other seat next to him, me say on the floor in the middle of them both, Only now I was lying on my back looking up at them both, bored and tired and in need of a hot shower.

The Georgia Satellites were playing Keep Your Hands to yourself, and underneath the boredness and the peace, there was this tension, and Gunnar's electric blue eyes kept sweeping the whole plane, like a caged animal.

Lee suddenly leaned over his seat and over me to look down the plane at Gunnar. "He's cool?" He asked, dad looked as well, and I lifted my head to look too. "Be careful, go." Lee stood up, grabbed Gunnar's bowie knife in its scabbard and stepped over me, I angled my foot to the side so it caught round his, trying to trip, it nearly worked but he flew round and kicked me in the shin, I let out a half laugh half yelp "Nice try kid." He grinned at me and went down to where Gunnar was.

He crouched next to him and murmured, I got up and sat in Lee's vacant seat, lighting a cigarette next to my dad. He looked over at me "So you're getting texts now." He said gruffly.

"Yeah, so?"

"Anyone special?"

"Wow…that almost sounded like interest."

"Aw c'mon kid, I'm interested in you."

"Don't lie; even I'm not interested in me."

"What are you interested in, then?"

"Stuff that goes boom, bang or slash, and Lee's latest girlfriend." I said, smirking.

"He got a new one?"

"Yeah. I don't got much except he bought her a ruby the size of a quarter when we weren't looking."

Spying on Lee's girlfriends was a hobby shared by me and my dad, and we were always there when the 'relationship' went sour. "A quarter, huh?" Dad asks, smiling

"Sh, he's back." I said, sliding off of Lee's seat and back onto the floor.

"He alright?" Dad asked Lee

"Yeah."

"The life's got to him; it'll get to all of us." He said as they chipped their bottles of bear together over my head in a salute to the life; I blew smoke straight up in the air at the bottles, my own salute to the life.

…..

When we arrived back home, I retreated to take a shower to wash off the grime and sweat, threw my clothes in the hamper, full of the laundry that I'd do on Monday before school, towel dried my hair and put it up in something that resembled a high ponytail, and changed into comfy grey jersey shorts and a white t shirt which had had the sleeves cut off, with a mock faded university of something or other est. 1945 or something. I headed downstairs to the garage; dad was leaning against a countertop. "Hey kid." He said

"Hey, Tool out?" I asked

"Yeah."

"Figures… Oh, well speak of the devil." as the garage door opened and Tool rolled in on his bike, parking it up next to the several other choppers, a girl was straddling the back of the bike as the growl of the engine cut out. Dad rolled his eyes and shook his head, I smiled wryly and sniggered. It was around 3 AM, but I didn't really feel tired.

Dad had changed into jeans and a loose fitting plaid shirt, Tool was in a cowboy hat, western style black shirt, and cowboy boots and dark jeans, fancying himself a regular Walker, Texas Ranger. "Hey brother, don't you ever sleep?" He asked dad. "And the kid too." He tutted, I grinned

"This is my friend, uh…uh, what was your name again, baby?" I wanted to groan

"Cheyenne." She grinned. I recognised her being in the graduating class of my first year in high school. Embarrassing. I looked at the floor. He muttered something to her. "You want a drink?" he asked us both, in the Ross household, as you may have noticed the rules were pretty lax on most things that were taboo in other households.

I slept when I wanted too, went where I wanted too, ate (mostly) when I wanted too, I could smoke if I wished and I could drink if I wished. We didn't do birthdays that much, not Christmas either. But it was nice. I got what I wanted; I got my own share of the pay, smaller than what the others got, but still way more than I probably needed. I lived the way I wanted too and I'm sure this is the only way I'm ever going to live, let's be honest, do you see me working as a bartender for the rest of my life? No, I see me being as old as my dad with a gun in my hand and a knife on my belt.