There is absolutely no practical reason to read this A/N. You're going to ignore it anyway.
Okay, who wants to hear a funny story?
So, there I was, freaking out because I had lost the flashdrive that this story is saved on. I looked everywhere but I couldn't remember what I had done with it after I updated. After a good half hour of looking for it, I sat down, figuring it would turn up eventually. Five minutes later I stood up and it fell out of my bra. *headslaps self* D'oh.
Hahahaha okay, now that's over:
There was a big bull's eye in our basement Ziva used for practicing with her knives. She had all different kinds, military issued, ones she had bought herself, as well as gifts she had received. A knife was always a safe gift idea for Ziva. It was something she was good at, and my father encouraged it.
Birthdays at our house were quite an unusual event in my family.
One year I got a pink titanium Hello Kitty themed glock, complete with pink bullets. That law enforcement had confiscated it from an illegal arms dealer and my brother had somehow acquired it from them.
"What practical use does that serve?" Ziva asked, shaking her head and grinning.
"Don't deny it, Ziva, it is so bad ass. I bet you're just jealous."
When Ziva was home, I would often hear a light thunking coming from the basement as she threw the same knife over and over again. It was where she went to think and to pass time. She was calm when she was polishing her knives, but when she was practicing with them it was best to stay out of her way. I was stupid enough to test this once. I went down to the basement to wash the outfit that had fallen into a gutter along with me the previous night. I was click-click-clicking the dial on the washing machine in at a dreadfully slow pace. I was almost about to start it, but she had already flung the knife and it sunk neatly into the washing machine door.
"Bitch." I mumbled.
I waited until the next day to finish my laundry and patch up the hole with duct tape.
As for me, I had a great talent for archery. I learned on my Uncle's stables where he bred Arabians. Unfortunately for me, this was not at all useful in the real world, so I look up sharp shooting instead. I got my first gun when I was 12. My father used to show off my skills to his friends, that's when he first became convinced I would make an exceptional officer. I wanted all the best guns, the coolest and the most famous. I loved anything big and badass.
It was just a hobby, really. I liked them because I thought I was supposed to like them. I never would have used them in the real world; I just borrowed them from the artillery cabinet at the base in the desert. AK-47s, grenade launchers, even missile launchers, I learned how to use them all. Ari taught me how to use a sniper, which I also excelled at.
To me, sharp-shooting was just a replacement for that odd archery hobby I had. I thought it was the same as shooting an arrow at a bull's eye and going to retrieve it. I would never have actually utilized the skills I had in the real world.
But Ziva did everyday. When she threw her knife, it didn't always embed itself in layers of foam and paper.
Hello Kitty guns? Where ever did you get a silly idea like that! Hmm, I don't know, maybe because they actually exist! Just google image it!
