The Family
The strength of a family, like the strength of an army, is in its loyalty to each other. Other things may change us, but we start and end with family.
The Family is the most lethal gang in the country. Tris, known as Six, is the daughter of the leader, and she is the heir of the gang. Six must train the new recruits - one being the criminal, Four - while preparing herself to destroy the man who killed her mother.
WARNING! There is violence in this story and strong themes. Proceed with caution. Enjoy!
I do not own anything, just my ideas!
Chapter 1
FOUR
The first thing I recognize when I wake up is the smell. Sweat, dust, and sharpened metal. I have spent many hours working in places with this particular smell to make me the best. And what I am the best at is being a criminal. The best one.
Being the best, though, isn't enough. It isn't enough because I do not know where I am, or how I got here.
I look all around me. I lay on a stiff cot, one of ten in a row along a wall. And there are another set of ten on the other wall. A person occupies each cot. No windows, one door. The room can't be any bigger than 300 square feet, and with 19 other people, it feels like I am suffocating.
Breathe, Four, breath... I suck in the sweat and dust and it relaxes my nerves. I rest my head back down and think back to the last thing I remember. Sirens, I remember hearing sirens running along the wind while I was driving off from a... a robbery. A robbery that went wrong. I guess that is what happens when you trust someone with a job you should be doing yourself.
The cops were on my tail, but I was fast. And smart. I had just figured out a route out of the mess when there was a loud BOOM; everything went bright, then black. Then I woke up here.
So what happened?
The single door opens, bringing a bright light and a deep voice with it. "Everybody up!" The deep voice yells.
Everyone else, whether they were awake or asleep, all jump up. There are a variety of people in this room with me. The ages of people seem to range from mid-30s to teenagers. And the size difference is from pro boxer to a stealthy fox. Either way, we are all here and all very confused.
"I'm not going to wait all day! Follow me." The man attached to the voice says. Now that my eyes have adjusted to the light, I can see the man with the low voice has a large statue.
We all file out of the room and straight into a much larger one. Much, much larger. And it holds everything from targets to weights to running machines. An exquisite training room. But the question that beckons is, what kind of training?
The man who called us out of the room stands in front of us and wears athletic shorts and a sleeveless black shirt that shows his muscles. He doesn't say anything, just stares holes through every single one of us. Each of us getting our special turn.
I hear the door behind us, not the one we came from, open and close, and stealth footsteps trace through the small crowd to the front. The person is small, and they have blonde hair.
"I don't have all day, so get out of the way!" Yells the blonde.
She's obviously a girl based on her voice and her hair. It is tightly braided in three small sections and all brought to the back of her head. Three braids are held together in the back with a piece of elastic. She wears skin tight black leggings, and a black baggy long sleeve shirt. While she is small, an ora of intimidation radiates from her.
Even through the baggy long sleeve, I can see her shoulders are back and toned muscles run along her body. She stands at the balls of her feet, ready to pounce at any given second. I already make a note to not underestimate her.
When she gets to the front, she turns to the other man and whispers something to him. They both laugh softly. Then she turns and faces the rest of us.
"Welcome," she says, her voice lower than a normal girl's, "to the first day of the rest of your life. You were all dead, but we, gracefully, have given you all the gift of life... And never forget we can take it away just as easy."
Ever since I woke up only a few minutes ago, I was simply living in the moment and taking in enough to survive, but now the questions begin to flood into my head. I must not be the only one, because as I look around, other people hold confusion on their faces, too.
"You all must have a lot of questions, and you will get some answers. But you'll mostly get lessons. Lesson number one: Never ask question, ever. If you need to know something, you will be told. Everything else, well, there is a reason you don't know them."
No questions. Well, I'm fucked.
"Today is going to be full of lessons, and maybe we will tell you what you want to know. And if you don't like that, then you can go back to being dead."
No one says anything and no one moves.
"I am sure you all are confused and have a few questions, so let me clear a few things up. We," she nods to the man next to her, "are The Family. And you are our new recruits to be adopted."
Something clicks in my mind; at least there is something that kind of makes sense. The Family is what it sounds like, a family. But they aren't a normal kind to gather on holidays and crack jokes. No, they mean business. From drugs to weapons, they own every black market there is. But what they are most famous for is assassinations.
The Family is the gang of all gangs, making the top spot on every Most Wanted list. In charge of The Family is The Grandfather, who is the eldest male in the family, and rumor says that the position is always passed down to the eldest son of The Grandfather.
And they adopt to make their family stronger and larger. It's more like they take over smaller rival gangs. And then there are people like the twenty in this room, those who have the skills to benefit The Family. I have heard hundreds of horror stories of their skills, of their training, and of their conquest.
But for the longest time, they were all only rumors. Tall tales that were spoken in every city and grew with every new pair of ears that heard. I never thought I would encounter them, but here I am.
"By the look of some of your faces, you know what we're talking about. For those of you who don't, here's all you need to know... We are a gang, a powerful one, and we have chosen you to possibly be adopted. Right now, you're all foster children.
"I'm Six, and this is Harrison," she points to herself then nods to the man next to her. "We will be training and evaluating you."
There are a few laughs, mostly from the brawny men. They are making the mistake of underestimating her.
She moves through the crowd to them. "Is there a joke I didn't hear?"
They don't say a word, nor do they move. Six brings her leg up and knocks one of them off balance. She then uses her elbow to nail him completely off and he falls to the ground. Six lands on him and strategically places her weight on him to keep him from getting up. She pulls a knife from a strap on her arm that was concealed by her sleeve and places it inches from his face.
"Lesson number two, never - and I mean never - underestimate anyone. Especially me." She says so softly it is dangerous. She slips the knife back up her sleeve and into some kind of strap along the forearm.
Six gets up off of the man and walks back to her place next to Harrison like nothing had just happened. While she maneuvers through the crowd, Harrison tries to hold a laugh in, and he surprisingly keeps it in well. His look, however, turns stern as he directs his attention back to the crowd of twenty.
"Everyone get in a line, now!"
We all comply and get in a horizontal line. Harrison grabs a large bad and Six pulls the long sleeve off. Underneath is tank top, but what is most surprising are the tattoos all along her body. On both arms are straps with knives hooked in.
Six and Harrison grab a large laundry bag and start handing out smaller bags to everyone in the line. When they get to me, Six throws a small duffle in my hands without even looking at me. On it, in wicked black print is Four. Inside is a bag of work-out clothes.
How they knew my nickname and size sends an uneasy feeling through me.
Once everyone gets a bag, the two instructors go back to their spots in front of us. "Training starts in ten minutes," Six says, "Training will consist of two parts. One part physical, the other mental. You will learn to fight and to kill, perfectly."
Harrison steps up, "We will teach you how to kill with a gun, a knife, your shoelaces, even your fingernails. And if you can't deliver, we will kill you."
Six says, "If you survive that, you will learn the mental aspects of being a killer. You will learn to withstand body numbing pain, how to create poisons, and carry out missions. Anyone can train to kill, the useful ones are smart. And you have to be smart to survive in this world."
Suddenly, Six looks down to her buzzing watch. She gets an unreadable look on her face and turns to Harrison and starts to unravel a combination of numbers.
He simply nods to her and she turns back to us. "I have to go, but Harrison will get you started. And we will see who makes it past the first day."
She turns to walk away, but spins around and I see both of the knives are in her hands. She sends them flying to the targets behind us, nearly hitting a person or two.
"Lesson number three... Never let your guard down."
She stalks to the door and opens it. Right as she is about to leave, she turns to face the rest of us.
"Oh, by the way," she says, "welcome to The Family."
Author's Note
The quote at the beginning is from Anthony Brandt and Richard Bach.
This idea came to me and I could not stop thinking about it. I have a back story planned, but not that much of where it is going... So we'll see. Let me know if you liked it! Please review!
Be brave, everyone!