Here we are, chapter one of 21 Guns. Enjoy. Review, I really want reviews. Tell me what you think.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight Saga or Army of T.W.O or Call of Duty. There I said it.
Seriously review, I want reviews. I won't update till I get at least five.
I'm not kidding. Well I think that's about it.
Enjoy
"Dad!" I screamed, staring at the bare counter, "Elliot!"
Within seconds of my outburst, my father and Elliot burst through the door of the bathroom, like two rhinos fighting to get through the door. They looked terrified and worried, and if I hadn't been so angry I would have laughed.
"What?" Elliot asked urgently, beating my dad through the door, He was wearing one of those white sleeveless t-shirts, showing off the various tattoos covering his arms. He grabbed me by the shoulders, examining my body for any injuries, "What happened?"
"Where are my hair dyes?" I screeched, jabbing my finger at the empty sink counter.
Elliot gaped at me, "You screamed bloody murder for a bunch of hair products?"
"Yeah," I said, my voice high and squeaky, "I'm going brown, I have to touch up." I added, pointing at my roots.
He squinted at my short, jagged hair and walked over to me, grabbed my head and tilted it down for a better look, "You sure? How can you tell?"
I rolled my eyes and wiggled out of his grip, "I can just tell, okay."
"Now where are they?" I asked again waving my arms. I looked at my dad, standing in the doorframe. He looked guilty.
My dad and Elliot were pretty big guys. They were private military contractors or PMC's for short, because all army people feel the need to abbreviate everything. My dad started his very own PMC with the help of Alice Murray, their mission's coordinator. He called it Trans World Operations or T.W.O for short. Thanks to a few years in the Army and two years in T.W.O they were huge muscled gorillas.
Elliot Salem was my dad's best friend and my godfather. He had black hair and pale skin; he was a little less buff than my dad, but just as menacing.
Elliot is the cool laid back man in the family. He curses a lot and acts like a kid. He taught me how to shoot a machine gun when I was seven, much to my father's dismay. Elliot taught me how to field strip a weapon blind folded and in the dark within thirty seconds. He also taught me how to use every kind of gun they had encountered on their missions.
My dad, on the other hand, was a terrifying beast. He was built like a Mack truck and has a web of scars on the right side of his face, the result of an explosion he narrowly survived. The scares made him look like a professional killer but hid his soft cotton candy center. He stood there, in the doorway of the bathroom, a ruthless killer, looking sheepish and guilty. Sometimes it's hard to believe that I'm his daughter. I'm so small compared to both of them.
My dad, Tyson Rios, has two sides. His tough army side that taught me kick boxing and three different types of Martial arts when I was nine. That's the side that goes on top secret missions to blow things up. Then there was the side that spoiled me rotten, and my mother fell in love with.
Me, I'm Salem Rios. I'm barely five foot with purple hair and green eyes. My dad and my Elliot raised me for as long as I can remember. My mother died of cancer when I was three and my dad says I look just like her.
"Daddy?" I whined, "What did you do?"
He cleared his throat, and averted his gaze. Elliot laughed leaning against the wall, crossing his arms across his chest.
"Jeez Tys," He said chuckling, "what did you do?"
"I threw them away." He said gruffly, still not looking at me.
I stared at him, my mouth open and my eyes wide.
"WHAT?" I screeched; Elliot laughed.
"I thought they were done!" My dad said defensively shrugging his shoulders.
"They were still half full." I squealed.
"Calm down Salem," My godfather said, still laughing, "We'll just go buy some more. This town cannot be that small," he said, emphasizing the "cannot'.
We had move just a few days ago to the outskirts of Forks Washington. Just outside a small Indian reservation called La Push. My dad and Elliot thought it would be best if they moved to a place where I could be safe and live like a normal kid.
To bad I'm not what anyone would call normal. My Dad and Elliot are the two best mercenaries in the country. They are always going on missions to foreign countries and naturally, since they were killing people, I couldn't come along. They tried it once when I was twelve, they took me to India. But I had a nasty run in with a psychopathic gunman in a market and it didn't end well… for him.
And that put an end to that. Both Dad and Elliot were too paranoid to leave me alone anywhere after the idiot shot me in the shoulder. So they looked into small towns with low crime rates, popped a U-haul, and drove from Brooklyn up to Forks.
Already I miss Brooklyn. Though it wasn't easy to make friends when the guys you live with look like my Dad and Elliot, though I can safely say I turned out all right. I really didn't need friends; a family of mercenaries was enough for me.
Elliot and my dad spent an ample amount of time with me when they were home. And I'm completely happy, except for when they throw away my hair dyes.
"Fine," I snapped.
"But you're paying for it," I added, jabbing my finger at Elliot's chest, it was like stabbing a rock with a straw.
"What?" He asked indignantly, "I didn't even touch them."
"Doesn't matter," I said, "You let my dad touch them so you pay."
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, "That's just twisted logic Salem."
I stormed out of the bathroom, "Let's go, Dad, you're driving," I called, grabbing the car keys from the kitchen counter.
They followed me out and I tossed the keys into the air behind me. I heard one of them catch it and walked out the door and down to the shiny car in driveway.
The car Alice got for us was sleek, shiny and red. She obviously had Elliot in mind when she found it.
Alice Murray is the T.W.O mission coordinator. She helped Elliot and my dad when they went away on their missions. She hacked into computers, opened doors, and sent them information using small cameras and microphones installed in their helmets.
After India I stayed at her place and helped her out. She and I got on great; she's like an older sister. She took me to get a tattoo once. The night before we were going to move, she decided that we had to have some girl to girl bonding at a tattoo parlor. Dad and Elliot were in Miami. She got hell from my dad about it but I ended up with barbed wire inked around my ankle. I chuckled at the memory.
"Man, Tys," Elliot exclaimed when he saw the car, "Alice hooked us up all right!"
"Damn," came my dad's dumbfounded reply.
"What kind of car is it?" I asked curiously.
"It's a Saleen Mustang." Elliot said, dreamily rushing to the car. He ran his hand over the glossy red paint job tenderly. I rolled my eyes sarcastically.
"I'm driving," He said forcefully.
"Fine, just find the closest convenience store," Dad said, throwing the keys at him, "and no daredevil crap, I want to get there and back without a ticket. We have to lay low here."
"Yes," Elliot hissed, catching the keys and opening the door in one fluid movement. One thing that hasn't rubbed off from my godfather to me was his knowledge of cars.
Elliot rebuilt my Dodge Super Bee when we were living in Brooklyn. Unfortunately we had to stuff her in a storage garage. But I would get her back soon. Alice was driving down from New York to help us settle in. She was stopping at the garage and driving from Brooklyn up here with my Bee.
I slid into the back of the car as Elliot jumped in and started it. He groaned happily when the engine purred to life smoothly. My dad clambered into the passenger seat and buckled up.
"Hey, I've been looking for those," Elliot said, swiping a pair of sunglasses off the dash. Alice probably found them. He turned around in his seat, winking at me as he slid the shades on, and backed out of the spot.
Sitting in the same car with Elliot when he was driving was absolutely terrifying. He drove like a mad man. I spent the whole drive being tossed around in the back seat,
bouncing back from one side to another, and listening to him laugh like a kid on Christmas.
When Elliot finally stopped the car I looked out the window, the landscape was all green. The trees, the ground, even the rocks, were all covered in a lush green. The sky was gray and gloomy. It was going to rain. I had a random thought as to why Elliot needed the sunglasses, but it was Elliot after all. He didn't need a reason.
I sighed as I slid back out of the mustang, a bit clumsily. I was still dizzy from the car ride.
Elliot stepped out of the car looking all cool and collected, swinging the door shut like they do in the movies. He turned to me and peered over the rim of his glasses. I glared at him, crossing my arms in front of my chest. He chuckled and winked.
"You should have worn your seat belt sweetie," He said, and turned around, walking to the small store on the other side of the parking lot. I rolled my eyes and sighed again, following after him. My dad came out from the other side and joined us.
The store Elliot had found was small and well lit. A group of teenagers were gathered in front of the store. They were huddled around a small girl dressed in a uniform who, I assumed, worked at the store. She was small, but taller than I was, and she had shoulder length brown hair and tan skin like her friends. I met her gaze for a second and then the whole group turned to look at me.
They were a bunch of locals. One of them had an arm draped over the girl's shoulder. They were all shirtless. I wrinkled my nose, why the hell they wanted to parade around shirtless was beyond me. It was freezing and about to rain, if they wanted to show off they were crazy. At least Elliot had a shirt on.
The biggest of the group stared at me, assessing me, like he was sizing me up. I frowned at him when I met his gaze. He ignored me and looked up at Elliot and my Dad, who were walking behind me, oblivious to the glances they were getting.
They were making me really uncomfortable and I was relived when we entered the store. It was really bright and clean inside. It was cold too.
"Okay Salem, lead us to your holy hair products," Elliot said. I rolled my eyes. Like I'm gonna know where they are in here.
"This way guys," My dad said, leading us down a few isles till we found the hair dye. I raised an eyebrow at him. He lifted a finger at the ceiling and I looked up. A white sign hung above the isle with the words 'Hair Care' written in big red letters.
"Oh," Elliot and I said at the same time. He had looked up with me.
"Well, take your pick, Sale," He said, using my nickname, "I'm going to find something good for dinner."
Dad left, leaving me with Elliot. I turned to the colorful boxes and examined my choices.
Eventually, I ended up narrowing my selection too two brands of lilac. I felt Elliot look over my shoulder.
"That's a bit lighter than your color now, isn't it?" He asked.
I snorted. That was a bit of an understatement. My current color was a deep purple and they didn't have that color.
"They don't have it," I said simply.
"Oh." He said, retreating back to the other side of the isle, leaving me to mull over the two brands.
My dad rounded a corner holding a few bags and walking over to us, "They had Ben and Jerry ice-cream so I bought a few tubs of those."
He went on and on about the food he bought, I ignored him and simply decided on both brands of lilac. I also swiped a blue and a green dye off the shelves.
I turned to look at them, shifting the boxes in my arms so they wouldn't fall, "Ok," I said, interrupting dad's speech about food, "I'm done."
"Finally," Elliot gasped, exasperated, leading the way to the cashier. It was the girl from the front. She smiled at me when I dumped my boxes on the counter. It was a weird smile, almost secretive, like she knew something I didn't.
I ignored the thought and smiled back. I turned to Elliot, holding my hand out expectantly.
"Come on Sale," He pleaded.
I shook my head and curled and uncurled my fingers twice, "Hand it over."
He sighed and pulled his credit card out of his pocket and practically threw it at me. I smiled smugly, taking a gum packet from the rack next to the register and adding it to my pile. I swiped the card and punched in the pin number and gave the card back to Elliot. He snatched it away and stuffed it back in his pocket, frowning like a little kid. I chuckled. The girl rung up all my stuff and handed me my bag and a receipt, the all knowing smile still intact.
I thanked her and followed my dad out the door. I looked back over my shoulder and saw her staring at me with that smile plastered on her face. I resisted the urge to run back there, grab her by the shoulders and ask her what the hell she was smiling at. I rubbed my nose and sniffed.
It was a nervous habit of mine. When I get nervous or uncomfortable I rubbed my nose, my Dad said my mom used to do it.
Only three of the tall, tan guys were still outside, they glanced uneasily at my dad and Elliot as we walked by. I looked over at them and they all turned to me. The small smile that the cashier had worn was slowly making it's way up their faces. They were smiling like they knew some big secret.
I caught the eye of the youngest one and he smiled so widely I suddenly felt self-conscious. I sniffed and rubbed my nose nervously. What the heck was wrong with these people?
I looked away quickly, freaked out, and quickened my pace. I reached the car before Elliot had even pulled out the keys. I yanked on the handle impatiently. I felt like I was in the middle of a really bad horror movie.
"The car's open now, Sale." Elliot called from the driver's side, pulling me from my thoughts.
I shook my head to clear it and, opened the car door and slid inside, dumping my bag of hair products on the seat beside me. This time I buckled myself up, and Elliot pulled out of the parking lot, speeding down the road that led us home.
The house we bought was really tiny; it was painted a dark shade of mahogany. I ran straight in when the car came to a stop, bringing my plastic bag with me. I was still freaking out about the smiles.
When you first walk into the house all you see is the kitchen, the living room and dining room, there's a doorway in the back to a small hallway that leads to all the rooms. The living room was on your right and it had a large couch, or as large as a couch could be in a house this small. It had a new plasma flat screen, complete with a DVR and three gaming systems. That was Alice's gift to Elliot. The kitchen was on your left behind the dinning room, half hidden behind a waist high counter. It was stocked with everything that a grade 'A' cook could ask for. That was Alice's gift to my dad.
The rooms were all stuffed in a back hallway, side by side.
My room was relatively small and cramped, and it overlooked the backyard and the woods beyond the property line. I was a little disappointed at first, but dad said I could paint the room whatever color I wanted to, so that evened out nicely. Elliot's room was on my left and my Dad's room was on my right. His room was across from the only bathroom in the house.
I ran straight to the bathroom and closed the door. I opened the bag and dumped the boxes on the counter, examining each color, and trying to decide on one.
I ended up choosing the blue so I applied it, following the directions that I had all but memorized. When I had finished I was officially a blue head.
I ran my fingers through my new blue hair and laughed. I looked like a blueberry.
Satisfied with my hair, I started putting everything away. I stuffed the unopened boxes under the sink and put the extra blue dye in the medicine cabinet for later.
I snatched the gum packet and the plastic bag off the counter and walked into the kitchen, smelling food.
My dad was cooking. He works miracles with the stove, and taught me everything he knows. He looked up at my entrance and smiled.
"Nice hair Salem," He laughed, "it looks good."
"Thanks." I said, opening the gum packet and popping a piece in my mouth.
Elliot looked up from the video game he was playing, "Looks good Sale."
I smiled, and walked over to him, leaning on the back of the couch, "What are you playing?" I asked looking over his shoulder.
"Call of Duty," He said, his eyes gluing themselves back to the TV screen, "grab a controller he's kicking my ass."
I laughed and climbed over the couch and sat down. He paused the game and handed me a black controller. I switched it on and began playing.
We played together till Dad finished dinner; we spent the entire time yelling at the game.
"What the hell," I yelled as I was shot to death, throwing the controller at the ground, "I totally shot the guy."
Elliot laughed, still staring at the TV, "Don't blame the game for a lack of skill"
I glared at him, "Lack of skill my ass." I muttered, "Piece of crap."
Then I added louder so he could hear me, "You know, you can take that 'lake of skill' and shove it up your-"
"Salem," My dad boomed from behind me, I jumped, "watch the language."
I gapped at him over the back of the couch, "But you guys cuss all the time." I cried indignantly, sitting on my knees, they were such hypocrites.
They cursed all the time on the battlefield. I should know. When I stayed at Alice's place while they were out their blowing stuff up, I would help her with whatever she needed. She had installed a camera and a microphone into their war helmets so they could communicate back and forth easily, so naturally she got full blast of their 'language'. I would always be in the room helping her hack into what ever they needed, Alice had taught me how, I've become quite good at it now. But being six at the time I repeated what I heard and the cussing was the only thing I really remembered.
"That's different." He said gruffly, leaning against the wall dividing the dining room and the kitchen.
"Different," I yelled, "how?"
"Different due to the fact that we're getting shot at out there," He said, matching my volume, "are you getting shot at Salem?"
I smiled, "Technically yes, I am." I said calmly, gesturing over my shoulder at the TV screen.
Elliot barked a laugh next to me. It was more like a bark than anything else, because he was still playing.
Dad chuckled, "Sit down and eat Sale," He said, "You too Elliot, shut off the game."
"Why?" Elliot whined, still playing.
I rolled my eyes and climbed back over the couch, "Come on Elliot." I said, sitting at the table and serving myself some mashed potatoes.
He sighed and shut off the PS3, trudging over to the table. He sat down on my left and Dad sat down after him and we all dug in.
Dad and Elliot started talking about sniper rifles and I gave my opinion every once in a while, but I mainly just listened. I liked Elliot's M14, but my favorite was my dad's M107 Light 50. It's a sniper rifle. I saw it in action once, when my Dad and Elliot were on a mission in Miami. They were still working for the SSC at the time and I was at Alice's place. They had to take out a chopper that held a whole bunch of terrorists.
When they came home I got to shoot it at one of the army bases. It was so much fun, and so much better than bungee jumping.
I had my own guns but they were mainly pistols and shotguns. I wanted an M107 but I had a very bad temper so they didn't trust me with anything bigger than a machine gun, let alone a Sniper Rifle. I have three guns.
My dad bought me my favorite and only pistol, a Deagle from their Secondary arms dealer . I also have a FSPS-12, a shot gun and a gift from Alice when I turned 14. Elliot bought me a shot gun too,
I was saving up to buy the attachments, I almost had all of them. I was just missing a cartridge attachment for my Deagle, and a barrel attachment for my FSPS-12. Seeing as I lost the first set my dad bought me for my Deagle, Dad says I have to buy them all again for myself.
I chuckled, we were one messed up family. Alice included. But we were a family, however twisted and bizarre, a family non-the less.
We finished eating and my dad and I put away the dishes in the dishwasher, while Elliot went straight back to the play station to play Call of Duty. He continued the gun argument with my dad, yelling from the living room.
When the table was cleared I went to play multiplayer with him and kick his ass before I went to bed. We finished our game and went our separate ways, disappearing into our rooms. Yelling goodnight and crashing in our beds. I unpacked a white T-shirt and a pair of sweats and collapsed on the small bed that had been stuffed in a corner.
Nestling inside the covers I fell asleep to the howling of wolves somewhere in the forest.
A/N: Review. Seriously, I want at least five or Chapter two won't be posted.
Salem meets the wolves officially next chapter so review if you want me to update it.
