So here I am, giving my story a try, even though I'm not quite sure about my isn't my mother tongue, so please forgive me a mistake here and there. But fortunately there is my dear coffeecatninja, who's editing my chapters, although she's very busy with writing her own highly recommended masterpiece Contrast. So I think there won't be too many mistakes to spoil the reading.

I hope you guys enjoy my first fanfiction and please let me know what you think about it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the SOA-characters or the story. I only own my OC.

Lakewood, Washington - July, 1993

"Sophie!"

Sam was standing in the Living room, where he just opened his safe to get the cash he needed for some loan sharks.

Although he didn't count as one of the towns pretty folks, he always had little savings, so he could pull his family out of financial droughts or protect his ass after setting it in deep trouble once again. Like usual he knew, he had at least a few thousand dollars in that goddamn safe. But now, all he was holding in his hand where fucking notepads. And he knew exactly how a wad of pretty green notes could change into worthless little white bills. And he knew as well, who was responsible for that.

"Sophia Lucia Maria Jones… get your ass down here! Now!"

It wasn't the first time, this stubborn, rebellious teenager kicked his ass to the verge of lunacy.

Sophia was a bitch. A spoiled, unbearable bitch, which contradicted whatever left her father's mouth. Who refused to wear something other than fucking sneakers, even if it was for official reasons.

A disobedient and defiant Bitch, who stole her father's bottle of whisky, worth more than 300 bucks just weeks ago. Just to get shit-faced with her best friend, till she threatened to drown herself into her own toilet, until Daddy came to pull the wet hair out of the pot. Meanwhile Skylar laid deliriously beside his beautiful daughter in her own puke, while she'd held her hand caringly on her best friends back.

Samuel was about to laugh at the sight of this two teenager-idiots, but when he saw the bottle, all fun was gone.

"What?"

The bitch that appeared within the doorway to the living room in all her pubertal arrogance. A sixteen years old pain in the ass in this goddamn baggy-pants and sneakers. Riddled with ice and bling wearing a tight shirt. But the most important part, the part that everyone saw and nobody forgot - like always there was one of those baseball-caps on her head. You never saw her without one of those goddamn caps. Wherever she went, wherever she was, whatever she did - you always recognized her by that fucking cap. She owned enough of them to open up a fucking store.

Long black hair laid down on her shoulders while one of her small index-fingers hovered in front of her mouth, so she could wrap her bubblegum around it.

Sophia Lucia Maria Jones was one big-ass nightmare for every father alive, that was for sure.

"You cracked my fucking safe again?"

And she had a lot of skills. Getting her rebellious teenager-ass in trouble was the one she drove to pure perfection. But another one was the capability of picking every conceivable lock and… wrecking his nerves with that.

She was eight years old, when she proved her first steps into the world of the lock pickers. Back then she cracked his safe in front of his eyes, with the correct combination of numbers. When he asked her how she had done that, she pointed her little index-finger to her ears. It was a very old safe which apparently wasn't that safe at all. She could hear a hardly sensate klick. But he didn't hear nothing whatever he tried. So maybe the safe actually really was safe and her ears were just some dangerous bitches too.

She picked the lock of the front door when she was eleven. Because she'd forgotten the keys and didn't want to wait for him coming back home. In the following night he'd change the damn lock, while he was growling and cussing like a mad grumbler.

She cracked the door on the drivers side of his truck, when she was fourteen. Then she started the engine by connecting the right wires to realize her plan in driving down to her mothers. But unfortunately she selected reverse gear and drove nowhere than full speed into the garage door.

And while everyone had to hold back the loud laughter, Samuel had to hold back himself from biting his daughters head off. The busted truck was brand-new and the garage door was a sad crap.

It must've been a sight for gods, when Sheriff Lewis realized she cracked the handcuffs he'd put on her wrist, before sitting her into that damn chair just two weeks ago. She didn't want to run away. She even closed the fucking handcuffs again. She was just bored and found a coffee spoon on the table.

Today Lewis probably would search her threefold, if he'd to put her in one of his cells - which wasn't unusual this days. Sometimes Lewis even thought to furnish one of them, so her weekend domicile was a bit more comfortable.

So trouble maybe was a little bit of an understatement.

Break-ins, stealing and bitchfights - her hobbies really were from some questionable nature.

She attended three high schools within the past years. Because too much reprimands resulted in an inevitably bounce.

So her way to Harvard and Washington State were cut off by stealing from teachers, beating schoolmates to a pulp and smoking dope on the playground nearby the school. By diving other bitches into the john and breaking another ones noses.

Today she attended no high school at all. Because the number of willingly schools were limited in and around the town. Today she got homeschooled, so that she wouldn't be twenty-one one day with no graduation in hand.

Maybe all this wasn't too appalling regarding to a young girl, which used to spent her time between outlaws and terms of imprisonment. Pretty much raised by a father and girlfriends who surprisingly weren't much different to her, although they were all grown up now.

It was questionable if women like that were a really good influence on a young girl with troubles to find herself.

Maybe it wasn't the best way to grow up like she did. For sure, it wasn't.

"Yeah."

Because which girl growing up under good influence would stand there and didn't even try to deny the blame while apparently not even seeing anything bad in what she'd done?

"Yeah? You take 7 grand without fucking permission and all you have to say is…yeah?"

She shrugged and burst the bubble in front of her mouth - a nightmare in all its classiness.

"You told me to look for a job, so I did… I'm a professional lock picker now - good salary."

Sam didn't know what to say to that. He considered to laugh, but he didn't. In the end he was a father who had to raise a bold girl into a decent woman. Although he doubted his daughter would ever be a decent woman. She would always be special. Good or bad.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"I'm not."

And for some reason, he wasn't thinking much about the good-option anymore.

Tacoma, Washington - May, 2005

Sophia was smart. Without praising herself to the moon, she could dare to say without remorse she was fucking smart. And it wasn't the intelligence test in high school which'd told her that. She sucked up knowledge like a vacuum and its goddamn crumbs. She juggled with numbers and words like a clown. She was bi-lingual by eight and in the past twenty years she grew fluent in two more languages.

On top of that, her spooky skills, when it came to this creepy ass computers made her fathers skin crawl.

She was a little genius and with that she could've become everything like her father used to say way more than just once.

And before that disastrous rebellion in her youth, the teachers saw her buried under mountains of books while doing research for giant projects of science. After the rebellion started though, the teachers saw her burning in hell. They would've driven her there themselves, but with slashed tires there wasn't much driving at all.

However, her father saw her in Harvard where she would've become a lawyer, so she could defend the family in court whenever necessary.

But Sophia wasn't about to choose one of those ways.

Sometimes she thought about a degree. But she was the daughter of criminals. She had a criminal record herself before she turned fifteen. Despite all the skills, her graduation was a fucking joke and her father wasn't one of those wealthy snobs, who could've afforded a new library or shit like that to buy her in. And her mother, well she could've done that, but even if she would've given a fuck, which university was eager to have a library named like an Italian wiseguy?

No goddamn university would've allowed her to attend. But it was probably better this way. She could've been kicked out as soon as she moved into the dormitory. Because of chaining and gagging her roommate and locking her into the closet. Or because of a horse's head within her roommates bed - just for fun, of course. To perpetuate the douchebags stereotype after The Godfather found its way into the movies.

She probably could've been in jail even before the first semester started.

She wasn't exactly a person you could unleash surrounded by snobby students that pissed her of as soon as they opened their mouth.

She wasn't really good with controlling her temper. Sometime she was pissed in a matter of seconds and pissing her off wasn't quite the best idea, although it was pretty easy to do so.

Sadness, fury, worry, irritation - whatever negative emotion flashed through her body made her fucking livid and caused the inevitable escalation. Letting her do things like kicking in a damn glass-door, so her right leg needed to be patched up with forty-two stitches.

The only thing what was able to calm her down, as easy as it was to make her blow a gasket, were challenges. And finding a job that would challenge her every day again wasn't as easy as it sounded. Because she needed to like it. She needed to wanna do it. She couldn't just do shit that was difficult enough to be a challenge. As soon as it wasn't interesting, it was crap to her and she wouldn't lift a finger for it while it made her even angrier.

But she liked statistics and strategies. She liked analyzing paralanguage and mental manipulation. She was good with that and could use it all at once. And with that, she creeped the shit out of people. But she also was born to be her father's successor and step into the world full of poker-chips and decks of cards.

It was one of those things she did for a living. It was what she loved. But at the same time it was one of those things which put her unbearable and stubborn ass in disastrous trouble every once in a while.

Because of her bumpy past, she wasn't one to play sweet poker games within the fancy casinos from Reno to Vegas. Most of them barred her for life. Especially when it came to blackjack, she usual felt like the public enemy number one.

Because they didn't want to believe it was skill or luck that made her win that much. And maybe it wasn't. She might have something to do the trick. But however she did it, in their eyes Sophia was a fraud. And her bloodline wasn't helping to prove the opposite. Her criminal record neither.

So these days she mostly played in back-rooms and small clubs around the west coast. A lot of times attached to the underground. That wasn't something her father liked, even if he did the same. He hated it to be honest. He couldn't bear it in the slightest way. It could be dangerous and she knew that. But what else was there for her? She was straight on the way to her thirties without a degree or some fancy shit, while having problems with not pointing a gun to her bosses head, if he dared to criticize her. There wasn't much she saw. She thought about some other stuff, but she could never bring these thoughts to reality. Because in the end, she loved what she did and since her youth it was all what she knew.

And like she knew the world of the gambling adventure in the underground, she knew situations like she was into right now.

Getting caught wasn't new to her. Getting in trouble as a result wasn't either. She knew what she did, she knew what it caused and she damn sure knew how to get out of it in a matter of seconds.

Doing what she did for more than ten years, you got taught a lesson or two on how to manage staying alive. Even if that meant being able to do so at the last second, she always made it out in time.

She was quick with planning and getting in action. She was fast with running and climbing up onto things which were nearly impossible to master. And she was small enough to fit through incredible small niches and to hide just everywhere. Small like really small. Compared to the idiots chasing her, she probably looked like a damn dwarf. She wasn't taller than 5'2''. And she was petite. Maybe 100 lbs. usual less. It was hard to believe, that she was the daughter of that jumbo she called her dad. But her mother was like her and maybe those crazy-ass genes weren't playing funny games like making her a giant Sasquatch like her father used to be. That would've been weird though.

So after a little preparation, she took a run up before she jumped on and off the hood of the car and pulled herself up the almost plain wall in the backyard of the little club she had fun in the past hours.

Where they sat her into a damn office till this gigantic man arrived with a smirk on his lips, that didn't fit in the slightest with his impressive physical appearance. He was built like a fucking brick wall, with an assumed height of almost 7 feet, a stylish haircut and a thick beard.

And obviously he was an important man with the V. President patch on his chest. But if the Vice President looked like that, she didn't even want to know what the big boss had to look like. This colossus could put the fear of god into you in no time.

But she was used to people like him - a little less bearded though. So fearing him wasn't the first thing that popped into her mind. More importantly was the fact that she had to strain her neck into an odd angle to look up at him.

And he made the biggest mistake and disappeared again, letting the lanky trainee watching her, what he didn't do so much. So it wasn't too hard to crack open the safe with the idiot out of the room and get what she could, before she opened the door and sneaked out the second he was busy flirting heavily with a busted blonde whore.

And here she was, turning around and seeing the little stunned douchebags stopping dead in their tracks, when they saw her up the wall, before spotting the slashed tires on their bikes - every single one cussing like a sailor.

And it was then, when the last badass got onto the last whole bike and she reached back and threw the already well used knife into the front-tire to make her statement, before she looked down to him with an impertinent smirk on her lips. And nothing held her back from blinking with one eye before turning around and disappearing within the little piece of forest behind her. And she didn't stop, even though she heard a gunshot behind.