Wow. First fanfiction in like, forever. I completely forgot about this site for an entire year, which is strange considering this place used to be my life.
Anyways, due to my recent, and short-lived obsession with Logan Lerman, I have become addicted to Gamer, and since there are few stories on here for Gamer (which is stupid, considering this awesome movie has only 22, and freaking Twilight has 165,157 as of November the 6th, and most likely by November the 7th will have gained another 10,000) and for the fact that there are no really badass female characters in Gamer, I had taken it upon myself to make a total ass-kicking chick.
And, obviously, it has to have Simon's perverted-ness :D
First things first, IN NO WAY AM I MAKING A PROFIT OFF THIS. I HAVE NO OWNERSHIP OVER GAMER, OR ANY OF IT'S CHARACTERS. I ALSO OWN NONE OF THE REVENUES VISITED IN THIS STORY, PRODUCTS, OR TELEVISION SHOWS!
And, now, THE SHOW SHALL BEGIN!
Chapter One: Bullet
The speedometer needle crescendoed slowly, as the melody of whipping wind, accompanied by the harmony of wheels on asphalt reached my ears. The long desert road stretched ever onward, on a winding path that seemed to reach the sky. Few people drove along this way, in the middle of the desert, alone, and helpless.
I laughed to myself. Maybe that's why I was drawn to deserts-I was often alone. However, I am not so helpless, and that allowed me to conquer the hellish environment.
Hands light on the steering wheel, I felt the motorcycle accelerate. I loved the feel of power, and shook at the adrenaline of knowing that if I made one little mistake, the speeding car, now at 180 miles per hour, would veer off the road, the bike would crash, and then I would hope I'd died because walking through the desert on little to no water is not fun. Trust me-I say this from personal experience.
However, there was no way I'd loose control. I never have, and never will. Any other person, from the outside, would see just some stupid, ignorant teen speeding like a madwoman, about to get into the accident of her short life, and get their keys taken away for a week.
I saw myself as being unwaveringly calm, focused, and determined, but that's mainly because I enjoyed wondering how 'awesome' I looked at that moment, and how much I knew, and could do, and would do, but 1, I was just cocky and high-strung, and 2, just an 18-year-old, despite what had occurred in my past years.
Simply put, I'm like every teenager out there.
The only difference was I had a deadline-and when I say 'deadline' I mean, if I don't reach that deadline, someone is actually going to die. Normally, I wouldn't give a damn about one person's life, but I care about mine, and if I don't get this job done, I would be the dead one.
Good thing they paid me a lot. Money always keeps me in check, aside from my life, but it's always on the line, anyway, so I guess it's not that much of a value. My… temporary employers (which is probably the kindest word for them) don't really care about my life, so I should not worry so much about mine. Only when I'm not working for anyone else I begin to think about my well-being.
I often compare myself to a single bullet-deadly, precise, but after it's shot, is useless. The people that hire me are the guns-they use me for a period of time to get the job done, but don't care about what happens to the bullet afterward. It also comforts me to think that the guilt is on them, that they pulled the trigger, and that my only crime was colliding.
I had a humorous image of a ninja driving the car in my place. I chuckled. A ninja? Close to it. I blend in with the darkness of the real world. But, no, I prefer to think of myself as a mercenary instead of an assassin, because sometimes I didn't just kill. I did bigger jobs.
Besides, an assassin was born to kill. I was born just to be born, to be a single person in life, to do what I could, and pass peacefully. Sadly, that didn't happen.
After a pang of anger, I pushed my past away to the hidden dark corners I had created in my mind, and focused on the job ahead. Apparently, some rich kid was about to get shot by some crazy people that probably hated the rich kid's parents, and thought the best and most predictable course of action was to kill their son. When they first explained this all to me, I was laughing my ass off, unable to stutter out 'no' between tears of humor. Then they told me how much they would pay me.
A quarter of a million. What do you think I said?
"HELL YEAH!" I yelled. "Where is this rich kid?"
"Caesar's Palace, in Las Vegas." The man in the black suit said. That's all I knew him as. The guy in the black suit. "Try to get there in 3 days. And don't take a plane."
"Why not?" I hissed.
"They might have figured out about you."
"Who? Who's 'they'?" I demanded.
"Lots of people wanted 'Society' and 'Slayers' to go on, shockingly. By now, I would assume they are at least half the size of the Mafia, and twice as insane." He estimated.
"Whoa. Wait. If this is going to have long-term effects on me, I'm out."
"Don't worry. We're taking care of them." He assured me.
"Ok, you better, 'cuz if you don't, I'll take care of you." I threatened.
After my brief flashback, I returned my focus. Caesars Palace, and I had one more day. I had been driving for two days straight from New Orleans. I had one more day to prepare. If only they told me the name of this kid. Black hair, blue eyes, rich. I clenched my jaw. There's plenty of black-haired, blue-eyed, rich kids in the world.
Oh, whatever. I'll figure it out as I go.
Thankfully, this was the road straight to Las Vegas. I had been through there before, and knew my way area, at least enough to not wander in the bad parts of town. I can handle all of them, but it's a waste of time, really.
About an hour or so later, I was on the way to my room in the luxurious Caeser's Palace. Hey, when you don't have a home to pay rent on, or a family to care of, you have a lot of money left over, and I'll have even more when I get my $250,000.
That thought alone made me giddy. Just imagining all that money…just the look of it, the feel of it, the sheer mass of it…I really really like money.
After admiring the room (which probably had better furnishings and was higher quality then a regular home) and taking a shower, I spread out on the bed, and flicked on the TV to watch the news. After a hour of endless political drabble, I fell asleep to the sounds of Las Vegas.
"Are you positive, Ms. Harte?" he asked. It didn't sound true-if she said 'no' he would still take the child. With tears in her eyes, the mother at the end of her line said 'yes' knowing that he would take her child away.
"Mom?" the child whimpered. Her light green eyes rimmed with tears, matching her mother's slightly darker ones.
"I'm so sorry, honey. I'm so sorry." She pulled her child into a hug, who at only 7, was going to save her entire family's life. "Be a big girl for Mommy. Please." She looked dead into her eyes. "Be strong for me. You're going to live a better life then you would with us. And, one day, you'll help Mommy, and Daddy, and Sissy survive." She kissed her on the cheek. "Know that I love you. Aydan Harte, always remember that I love you."
The evil man grabbed Aydan's arm. She had already dubbed him as 'evil' just from the look deep in his snide dark brown eyes. "Mommy!" she cried out.
"Be strong for Mommy." Ms. Harte said, looking at her feet, tears rolling down her cheeks.
I awoke with a groan. That damn dream again. I'm not even sure how many times I've had it. I guess it's happened to often for me to even think of it. Sometimes, I wished I had much more…interesting dreams, as the scene in my life had been played so many times, I could recite it.
I took a glance at the alarm clock-8 o'clock. After tiredness swooped in, I stumbled out of bed, and got dressed. Just as I pulled on a t-shirt (over a bullet-proof vest) I heard my cell phone ring.
"Yello." I answered, fiddling with my hair.
"Silverton." The voice replied.
"What?"
"Silverton. That's the kid's last name." I recognized his voice now. Black suit guy.
"Oh, good. I was about to search the entire U.S for black-haired blue-eyed kids." I hissed.
"Don't get snappy. You're paid to kill, not think."
"I beg to differ, as one much think to kill." I smirked. "Dude, the universal law of all working class people is what goes around, comes around. If you piss me off, I won't do the job so well. Our client might just die, and I'll call it an 'accident.' If you keep me happy, the kid will be licking my boots."
"Oh, get over yourself." He groaned.
"The only people who pay others to do the job for them are men are small dicks, and woman with big brains. I highly doubt you're a woman. Just pay me, and this'll be all over, and hopefully, I'll never speak to you again." I pressed the red button of freedom, glad to rid him of the pleasure of making me angry.
After brushing through my long, wavy blond hair, and outlining my lime green eyes with thick eyeliner, I was ready to go. I went to search for anyone with the last name 'Silverton.'
After bribing the front desk, I found out that Simon Silverton and his father were staying here, in celebration of his father's birthday, and that he saw Simon heading for the Apollo Pool. I put a hundred in his hand, and went to the pool.
Thankfully, I had brought a swimming suit (a one piece, black) and quickly changed into it. I had to blend in with the crowd, so to not be suspicious. There are some very, very paranoid people, and most have good reasons.
The pool was the first thing I noticed. It was long, and had intricate designs at the bottom. It looked very Apollo-y. It was lined with chaises, all empty except for a single one with a towel and rumpled t-shirt.
Wow. Completely alone. Stupid kid.
I put my small amount of belongings (a single handbag with some money and a gun in it) in a chair and dipped my feet into the water.
In the corner of my eye, I saw the famous Simon Silverton. I had heard of him for time-to-time, but I never really paid attention to the media. I had played 'Slayers' before though. It was badass. Screw Halo!
Hm. I had suspected a 12-year-old, but he looked in the 16 or 17-year-old range. I could see bright blue eyes from here. Not bad, not bad. I've seen better. Of course, he immediately swam over. Figures.
"Lonely?" I asked.
"Not anymore." I rolled my eyes.
"So, you're Simon Silverton." I narrowed my eyes. "Not near as impressive as everyone said you were." He completely ignored that. I could already tell he was obnoxious.
"And you are?" He put him arms on the edge of the pool, looking up at me. I scoffed. I never give out my real name.
"Andra Gray." I just said the first name that came to mind. My real name is Aydan Harte, but I wouldn't tell anyone I don't trust.
"Well, Andra, why are you alone?" he smirked.
"Why were you alone?" I retorted. "You did, after all, help kill Ken Castle. There's some people who would want to kill you." His eyebrows narrowed. I heard movement behind him. "Speaking of that…GET DOWN!" I hissed, sliding into the water, and pulling him under. I snuck a peak, and saw two men on the opposite side of the pool, with poorly concealed guns and a serious look in their eyes. Thankfully, their view of me was blocked by a chaise. I gave Simon a motion to stay were he was, and I slowly stalked to a hiding place.
I hide behind a spiral tree-hedge thing and cocked my gun. I waited for the exact moment of their approach.
One of the men was just on the other side of me. My arm shot out, grabbed his, and knocked the gun out of his hand, twisting his arm around his back to do so. He called out for his partner as I grabbed his head, and broke it with a quick jerk. He fell to the ground, and I picked up his gun, aimed for the other man, and shot.
I ran back over to the pool, grabbed Simon and my bag, and ran for the nearest exit.
After winding through various hotel walls, and ignoring gasps of shock and yells to stop, I reached my motorcycle. Simon was trying hard to keep up, as I was a pretty fast runner, but he was only a few steps behind me.
Without bothering to put on a helmet, I sped out of the parking lot, easily weaving between the clumsy cars. Simon was freaking out, probably thinking he was with an insane person, but I hoped he knew that those people were trying to kill him, and I was trying to save him. If he wasn't smart enough to notice that, then it was his loss.
Once we got out onto the streets, I noticed three black cars behind us. I increased my speed, and went through all red lights and stop signs. I ignored the police sirens, and outdrove them.
At the time, I was too focused to remember every little thing I did. My mind was set on getting out of the city, and into the desert. There, I could easily lose anyone. My movements were instinctive as I raced through traffic, and pushed the poor bike harder and faster every second.
"What the fuck is going on?" Simon hissed.
"I'll explain it later when we don't have cops and psychos on our tail!" I yelled.
"There already is a psycho! You!"
"Shut the fuck you, will you?" I commanded.
I kept driving until we came to a motel in a small town. I pulled in, just noticed the needle was almost on empty. I released a sigh of relief at the fact that there was no one following us.
"Will you please explain what's going on?" Simon demanded.
"Not here." I said stubbornly. He groaned. I shoved some money in his hand, and told him to get a room. "I need to get gas and some food. Go find a room." I commanded.
He went inside the motel, and I went over to the gas station across the street. As I was filling up, I saw a black car like the others I had seen. I cursed when I saw a man with a gun in his pocket come out.
I looked around for any witnesses. The only person that would see anything was the clerk inside the station. I tried to look inconspicous as I walked in.
"Hey, dude. You look like you could use some money." I said to him. He looked Hispanic, probably illegal, and probably willing to do anything for a good buck.
Eh. I have plenty of money to spare. I am getting a quarter of a million soon. I got a thousand from my last job.
I slid him a hundred. "You see that guy out there?" I pointed to the black car. "He wants to kill me and my…associate. I might just have to kill him. In return for this money, you keep your mouth shut." He nodded. "Oh, and here's the 20 for gas."
I walked out with the gun I stole from the other guy in my hand, hidden in a jacket, as I walked over to my bike. I heard a few whispers, and a cock of a gun.
I pivoted on my heal, and shot at the man right between the eyes. I used the brief shock of the kill to close in on the other two. They held their out their guns, and aimed for me. A millisecond after they shot, I duck down, and shot them right in the knees. They fell to the ground, and I walked over, and aimed my guns at their head.
"What do you want with Silverton?" I commanded. "And don't you dare lie, unless you want to end up like your friend." I tossed my head in the dead man's direction. "Start talking."
"We ain't never. You're gonna have to kill us." One said.
"Gladly." Two gunshots sounded through the small town. Thankfully, there was only an empty apartment complex and ratty looking store. They wouldn't say a word about me.
I raided the men's wallets, and used that money to buy some food. I said my thanks to clerk, and went back over to the motel. Simon was leaning against a door.
"You are completely fucking insane." He shook his head in shock.
"And you're completely fucked."
ARGH! I've never been able to write gun fights. Oh, well. Don't worry. More information will be learned about Aydan in the next chapter, so she doesn't seem so weird.
There will probably be about 10 or 15 chapters, and not really Simon/OC, but there will be some. It won't last though (evil grin.)
PLEASE review, and don't just say 'GOOD-NESS' give me critque. I also accept ideas for this story, and others.
-Hannah