I got tired of seeing miss 'goody goody two-shoes' Bella and her 'oh-so perfectness' in EVERY SINGLE fan fiction.
So, I am going to write a story about a super cool badass Bella!
But don't fret my darlings, I will try to include some of the events from Twilight, but I am going to add much more!
This is completely OOC
If you don't like these kinds of stories, then don't read. Reasonable flames are aloud though.
A few of her character traits are based on me, such as independence and love for music.
AND this story is like the complete opposite of Bella!
--------------------
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.
--------------------
This 1st chapter is kind of dry, but will get better soon!
BTW, Charlie isn't a police officer, but a super cool and Terminator like assassin!
---------------------
BadAss Bella POV (Haha)
Port Angeles Airport
Oh. My. Psycho Mother. I couldn't believe I was only an hour away from my new home in (Duhn Duhn Duhhhn) Forks, Washington!
---------------------------
I had finally succeeded in escaping from the Southern Hell-Hole I had called 'home' for the past 17 years, well actually all of my life. I was free of Psycho-Mom! My dream of escaping the dry, blistering heat of Arizona and the pointy needles of the local cactus was finally coming true!
Even though I despised the heat and wide range *sarcasm*of fauna, the South wasn't all that bad. Except for the rich snobs and disgusting rednecks, most people were quite friendly. But, I if I had heard one more person say 'y'all', someone was going to wind up with a fork in their neck.
Even then, I wasn't going to miss Arizona or anything. Sure, I had friends, but I was never really close to anyone. Psycho-Mom made sure that never happened. In fact, it slipped my mind to mention my leaving. Besides, they wouldn't miss me; at least for a few more days.
------------------------------
I lifted my dark brown bangs from my face in order to get a better chance of finding my father. I didn't even want to think of trying to carry all of my bags. In fact, a good chunk (Eww….Hate that word!) of the stuff wasn't even mine, but Ebony's, my best friend.
I fingered my ancient silver cross necklace from Italy with an onyx stone in the middle, a nervous habit I had taken up ever since I had made an oath to never bite my nails again, while I searched for Bob, the necklace-giver.
Who is Charlie, you may ask? Well, he happens to be the best ass-kicker in America. He had been featured on America's Most Wanted several times for lockin' up the bad guys once and for all.
He is ex-FBI since he retired a couple of years ago, but now he has a super secretive job that even I am not informed of. He even goes over to Afghanistan for months at a time. But when I eavesdrop on his phone conversations and check his history, which he sometimes carelessly forgets to delete, I am picking up somewhere on the lines of an 'assassin' or perhaps a 'spy'.
My eyes finally landed on a tall man in a solid black polo shirt tucked into dark wash jeans, much like myself. He had a great muscled chest and you could see a small silver pistol flaunting itself on a leather belt that ran around the man's waist.
He had short black hair with a window's peak and a long black trench coat was draped over his broad shoulders. To top it all off, he wore Terminator-like sunglasses. Yep, that was Bob, my father.
I started to strut towards him, when he gave me a welcoming nod, no hug or welcoming 'hello', and went to retrieve my bags.
Neither of us liked emotional crap. Hence, I not saying farewell to my former peers.
--------------------------------
I was gratefully pulled out of my rambling thoughts by my skull-covered bag, flaunting itself on the conveyer belt. I am no Goth or Emo, but you would have to admit; the bag had personality, and I like things that with personality.
By the time my well manicured toes had reached Charlie, he had already pulled Skull-bag and the rest of my belongings of the dirty metal belt. Ugg, I would have to disinfect them later.
I had four suitcases and my carry-on items were my two precious violins; I had brought everything I owned.
Father wordlessly handed me a black trench coat that looked eerily similar to his, and I covered my dark ensemble. I had to admit, Charlie and I are quite alike.
He picked up all four suitcases without breaking a sweat, curse his mighty biceps, and marched Terminator-like towards the automatic glass doors.
------------------------------
Sorry, but I have to cut this short tonight. Father dearest is returning, and he is a Computer Hogg. Expect an update soon!