A/N: So, I know this one is kinda short, but I thought it should end there. This is my first try at a Human Target fanfiction, so. XP. So, this isn't really going to focus on any relation ship, and I don't know when I'm going to have this take place in the series, so... This is the introduction of my original character, who is pretty much the main character of this story. If you have polite criticism (good or bad) please let me know, and I'll try to improve it. This is yet another WIP, so it's going to take a while for updates, not to mention all the other things I'm working on. So, enjoy the prologue of Criminal Life.
Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Human Target, any of it's plot-lines or the characters. Amber, however, is mine.
As soon as she knew the coast was clear, Amber made a run for it, hoping she wouldn't get caught by the same men who had killed her parents and John. Five year old John, the poor thing, Amber thought. He had still been at an age where Amber had to do everything for him. He was so helpless. She pushed down the feelings of guilt and concentrated on the motion of her legs as she ran. Down the stairs and she hoped it would be a clear shot to the door, but a big beefy man stood in her way. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she launched off the fourth to last step and hit the man with all her momentum, grabbing a hold of his shirt as he went down, straight through the door. When he landed, Amber pushed off again, avoiding the various men that tried to catch her. One grabbed from the left, so she swerved right, directly into another big man who immediately clapped his hand down on her shoulder, his grip tight. Amber's fury built up till she was shaking, her eyes narrowed.
"She's got spunk," the man said with a smirk. He stood with one hand, the one that wasn't on Amber's shoulder, in his pocket, his hair was cut short, curving around his ears, his eyes dark and seemingly bottomless. "I always knew red-heads had bad tempers, but I think this one goes above and beyond," he continued, his voice haughty. Amber growled, through with being teased. She turned her head and sank her teeth into his hand, the coppery taste of blood flooding her mouth. His grip loosened and Amber darted away, down the side of the house, spitting as she did so. She paused as she reached the edge of the house to make sure there was no one within grabbing range, and took off through the wide open back yard, her eyes on the large barn in the back corner. As she ran, she saw tufts of dirt and grass fly up around her. They were firing at a ten year old! Amber's energy was renewed and she made the last sprint to the barn, slamming the door shut behind her. She didn't have much time, but she stopped to gather her breath back, and remember all the things her dad had taught her.
She remembered that her dad had stashed various weapons around the house and barn for emergency use, and this sure was one. She also knew that he always kept the ammo for the weapons close by, although locked up securely. She went and crouched by the lawn mower, reaching under the seat to grab the gun that was stashed there, then thought back to where the bullets would be. Her eyes landed on his work bench and she yanked open the top drawer, reaching on the underside to pull the key off the bottom. With the key to the bottom drawer, she had ammo. She loaded her gun, exactly the way her dad had taught her and bent down behind the mower to wait.
"Girly!" a voice called near the door. She heard it creek open and watched the patch of light on the dirt floor get bigger. She peered around the vehicle, her gun up and aimed. She felt the corners of her mouth twitch up, they had no idea what they were in for. First she saw the barrel of a gun, then the hands that held it, then the arms, then finally, the head. Amber had never killed anyone, she was only ten, but that didn't mean that her dad hadn't taught her to hold the big weapon and aim to injure, as well to kill. She put his forehead in her sights and pulled the trigger, the gun shuddering in her cupped hands. His brain matter splattered the door of the barn, and Amber felt a sick satisfaction grow in the pit of her stomach. The goons out to get her went crazy.
"She has a gun?" one said. "She shot his head off!" a different one now. "She knows how to handle weapons," a third said, more calm than the rest. Amber sat quietly, waiting for any sign of another approach-er, her gun aimed down at the ground for now. The commotion outside went quiet, then a sound by the door.
"Well, girly," the man that had 'captured' her said, still out of view, so Amber didn't bother to raise her gun. "I was willing to keep you, but now I see you're just more trouble than you're worth. I've sent out for a professional. You'll see your family soon," he said, then left by the sounds of it. She knew they were still out there, waiting. Amber sighed, tears coming to her eyes now, which she wiped harshly away. She had to stay clam if she was going to survive this.
Amber crouched for what seemed like hours until she heard another sound, light footsteps approaching. Her gun raised, her aim high, level with the blood splatter on the door. A rifle tip poked through, pushing the door back. It scraped through the blood then disappeared. He was examining the situation.
"How old did you say she was, dude?" another voice asked, one she had not heard before.
"What does it matter? I'll pay you whatever you want for this job," the same voice that had warned her of her impending doom. She heard a clicking, then shuffling. Amber's muscles were vibrating with tension, her aim still not wavering. Then she heard a sound directly behind her and she whipped around, her gun aiming down at the head of a man looking up at her, his rifle pointed at her skull. Amber frowned at him.
"Christ, you're only a kid," he said. She watched his gun lower, and kept hers in place.
"I'm not going to hesitate to shoot," Amber said. He arched an eyebrow.
"What's your name, dude?" he asked. Amber turned her head just a bit, her eyes still on his. They were like ice, to her. He dropped his gun to the ground, though he still held the butt of it. He reached out a hand and Amber backed away, still crouching close to the mower and low to the ground.
"Amber," she finally said. He frowned at her.
"Amber, how old are you?" he asked. Amber shook her head, more tears starting to flow. She sniffled, wiping her nose on her shoulder.
"I'm ten, what about you?" she asked. He swore, looking back at the door.
"Is there any other way out of here?" he asked. Amber shook her head in answer and he stared to look around him. "Anywhere for you to hide, dude?" he asked. Amber arched her eyebrow now.
"Why would you like to know?" she asked. He smiled at her, his eyes flashing. He pushed himself off the floor and leaned his gun against the back of the mower. He held his hand out to her again, and this time, without really knowing why, Amber took it. He took the gun from her gently, checked the chamber, then tucked the gun into the back of her pants. He held her hand in his and led her to a small hay bail, one that she knew her brother liked to hide in when they played hide and seek. He knelt down next to her, his eyes kind, and so clear.
"Hide here until I tell you it's okay," he said. Amber nodded and dug herself into the hay bail making sure none of her could be seen. He piled more on top of her then went back to get his gun. She flinched when he fired a shot into a wall, surprised that he didn't shoot her, then left. Amber kept her ears open, waiting for any sign.
"I want twenty-four," she heard him say.
"Jesus! That much?" the big man asked. Nothing. "Fine, alright, I get it, she wasn't your norm and it was a rush order," he said then. She listened to the sounds of footsteps fading and continued to wait. She slowly pulled the gun from the back of her pants, just in case. She waited for several minutes before hay was carefully pulled off her face, and she looked up into his crystal blue colored eyes. He leaned away from her as she sat up, the gun limply in her hand.
"That's a little big for you," he said. He looked over at the door with blood splatter on it. "But obviously you can handle it," he added. Amber stood, looking up at him. He smiled at her then reached into his back pocket. He pulled a thick white envelope out and handed it to her. "This is for you, now, I suggest you lie low for a while, think up a new name for yourself, then call the number in the envelope," he said. Amber accepted it and watched him leave, his gun slung over his shoulder. "You're free now, dude," he said just before he left the barn.