Chapter 2.


Neon flashed inside the room as the newly made 80s synth pop blasted from the speakers. The mirror globe bounced the colors of a psychedelic rainbow in rhythm to the strangely addicting music. One boy sat comfy in a chair, his legs propped against a table, a bottle of whiskey in his hand and a smoke in the other. He had his eyes closed and was bobbing his head to the music. The braided, mousey hair was a mess as was his life currently.

Click.

The music stopped and a groan left the young man's mouth. ˝The fuck? Ubbe get out˝- The man shouted. His speech blurred by alcohol and probably one of those small, colorful pills on the table. Maybe even a hit of the blunts neatly stacked by the music station.

˝Hvitserk, get your ass clean and head downstairs, we're having a family meeting˝- Ubbe said slowly. He already rolled his eyes at the state of his younger brother. The wasted youth as he liked to call him. Girls, drugs and booze and that infernal noise. Something that would only be heard from a bad 80s racing movie. The small fuck wasn't even born in that time.

˝What did baby bro do it?˝- Hvitserk mocked. He leaned to his goodies table and took a blunt. Soon the end turned to a bright red and he exhaled the foul smoke.

˝Leave that shit here˝- Ubbe ordered and shut the door. His next stop was the room by the end of the second floor. The floor of hell he liked to call it, each room a separate universe of drugs and nonsense. He passed the undoubtedly rare and precious paintings on the walls and opened a door without knocking. There wasn't any particular need to be polite to these fuckers, family or not.

Sigurd's room was a maze of blues and greens, patterned curtains and bohemian style furniture. A dream catcher on the wall, a marijuana bong by the bed, some weird ass looking flowers on the window sill and those shits rugs he loved so much. He found his brother leaning against a speaker and grinning as the drum bounced to the rhythm of the bass it played. Drum'n bass he called it, junkie music, Ubbe filed it in his mind.

˝Wash your face and get downstairs, family meeting˝- He grunted.

˝Suuuuure, be riight there˝- Sigurd giggled. High on some shit again. Perfect. Not. Ubbe took a deep breath and readied himself for the last brother. Passing his room, a harmony of books, old oak and clean surfaces he stopped in front of a black door. He heard the sounds from the inside. The combination of orchestral music and machinery sounds, rising from a small note to an epic cresendo. The youngest brother enjoyed the most fascinating music. It wasn't as good as Ubbe's favorite Johnny Cash but it would do.

Without a knock he opened to the door and saw Ivar staring through the window, the back of his wheel chair shining under the low light. He preferred the dimmed, yellow lights that casted shadows in his room. An unimaginable pile of books littered the far corner and everywhere you went were more books, more gadgets and trinkets.

˝Get down, family meeting˝- Ubbe said. He waited for him to answer. Ivar was silent since he came that day from the florist shop. Days passed and he still had the plotting stare on. He pitied the girl already, not that he and the family would spare the Angelos...but you could at least have a decency towards the female. He heard she was rather pretty. It would be a shame to waste such beauty and not use it before it..expired.

˝I will, tell me brother, how long?˝- His voice carried the most noticeable northern accent. Everyone else tried the best to loose it but he was stubborn. Demanded the accent stayed, if for nothing else, pride and tradition. Ivar loved the fact they descended from the Vikings. The mighty warriors of the North. As a smaller child he devoured the stories, the myths and sagas. He was infatuated by the strenght and power they once possessed.

˝Not long, the invitation has been sent we just have to wait˝- Ubbe smirked. He wasn't big on patience but a good hunter knew when to wait for his pray, it would be sweeter later on anyways.

˝Let's go then, Father and Bjorn must be already waiting˝- In this dim light Ivar's eyes shinned inhumanely. Using his hands he wheeled at a fast and precise pace, leaving Ubbe to close the door. No one in the house spoke of his legs and they way they didn't work. No one dared to. Ivar had the last maid drowned and his old teacher had lost both of his arms and legs. Making a joke to the youngest Ragnarsson was a death wish. He wheeled down the floor to the elevator and slowly smiled himself. In the reflection of the polished metal he spotted his guns, a pair of modified Beretta 92FS. Stainless steel with a 5.9inch barrel and slide configuration. The extra inch in the length of the standard issue makes them look even more menacing. Ivar's ambidextrous nature showed itself as an excellent pairing with that pair. In his inner thigh he wore a concealed black dagger, curved and with a serrated edge. ˝Brother?˝- Craning his head he smiled at his older brother who snorted and walked towards him.

˝Always so damn bossy˝- Ubbe muttered.

˝I'm spoiled what can I say˝- Ivar said flashing pearly whites. Ubbe sighed and felt his weapons under his leather jacket. The Jackal sat snuggly by his left arm. The black gunmetal constructed weapon was the powerhouse of the Ragnarsson's weaponry. It used massive 13 mm rounds that would leave a crater in a person's body. The unique design makes it seem as if ti doesn't have a pistol slide, but the upper assembly is the slide and it moves at a minimal distance compared to other gus. Words were engraved into the metal under a specific angle so when pointed to a person's head it made them readable. It was Ubbe's baby and his sister was right next to it. The sister of Ubbe's baby was a semi-automatic magnum pistol, based on two pre WW1 handgun designs by Colt. The M1903 and m1905 pistols. The magazine has a capacity of six .456 cartridges. The long slide mimics her brother and finished with a titanium nitride making it a characteristic gold color.

With a ding they arrived at the first floor and the doors were opened by two servants dressed in black and white suits. The Ragnarssons nodded and made their way to the foyer. Their oldest brother, Bjorn, a massive blonde man was nursing what appeared to be vodka. In front of his icy blue eyes was a single weapon. It dominated the glass table. The „Awakening", a R-SCG12 double barrel shotgun duals as a hand of good. The semi-automatic is capable of piercing through the metal plating armored cars. He keeps changing the loads of either a very high gauge or a solid amour piercing slug, you know just to keep it dynamic.

He still had his under cut and the slicked back Mohawk along with the all black, military style clothes. The similarities didn't end there, known for his strict and routine behavior, Bjorn acted like a soldier more than a human. The mercenary of the family so to say.

˝Took you idiots long enough˝- He nodded towards them and leaned back in the sofa. His body seemed oversized even on the king sized sofa, the arms and legs to long to relax comfortably on it.

˝The other two will come shortly, Father is here?˝- Ubbe asked pouring himself a drink. Something told him he'd need several to be able to pass through the family meeting.

˝He'll come soon, had some business with the Haraldsons, the usual˝- Bjorn grinned. The Haraldsons were the co-brothers of the family, leading in weapon smuggling. They were a Macy's for weapons and guns. Last year the got fucking tanks for sale. Bjorn itched to get his hands on some.

˝Mhm˝- Bjorn commented. The gin he decided on burned nicely and warmed its way to his stomach relaxing him in a false manner.

˝Brother, I haven't seen you in a while˝- Ivar said when the silence settled. The youngest and oldest of the sons didn't see eye to eye and bickered often.

˝Yes that's why you're still so lively, imagine what could have been if you came with me˝

˝I imagine still sitting, yes?˝- Ivar smiled at the snide remark but his yes shone with malicious intent. His hands rested next to the dagger he loved so much a mere inch separating his flesh from the cold steel.

˝Wouldn't you prefer to lie down?˝

˝Not yet brother, not yet˝- A weird, insane laugh finished his sentence. However, it wasn't Ivar's. A tall figure came in fast, eyes crazy, mouth wide open.

˝My boys!˝- The man yelled in a thick northern accent. The Ragnarssons laughed.

˝Uncle Floki, you're here too?˝- Ivar was grinning like mad. The man nodded and ruffled his hair.

˝How could you something like this without your bang bang man? Your old man had to beggg me to come and you know me I can't say no to that old goat and see my boys. Bjorn! You're as big as a mountain!˝- His speech was fast and rumbled, like thunder in the summer time.


a/n: I took some days to plan this ahead at least a bit, I don't wanna disappoint now that I see how much you guys want to read this, it starts slowly but I'll be posting soon! And I'll add the epilogue for Fire inside in the next few days. I'm taking a harder and darker approach to this story so I'll be adding a few more tags and warnings. There is a playlist coming together as the story soundtrack I guess? If you want to listen I'll add a link to it.

a/n2: extra cookies if you can name the characters that use the mentioned guns and no cheating via Google