A/N: Hi.
Disclaimer:Twilight is Stephenie's.
I'm discovering their routine.
All day, they're on the rooftop outside the city. Sometimes they don't do much but chill and laugh, and they could almost pass for regular teenagers.
Other times they're antsy, and on those days I'm nervous, because I've seen this kind of group before, and when the energy that hums in their midst starts leaving this particular taste on the back of my tongue it's not long before someone lashes out, and then it's every man for himself.
Except it never happens. They get in each other's faces sometimes, of course, but it never goes further than a bit of shoving, a swing or two, some wrestling. You can sense that they're not trying to hurt each other, only to blow out some steam.
They act like they're all siblings. It's extremely unsettling.
And then there's training days. On those days there's no bickering, no laughing, no wrestling. It's cold and businesslike. Those are the days where I am reminded that these kids are killers, professional and efficient.
They all carry half a dozen weapons. Each of them has at least two knives, and the rest of their arsenal varies from person to person.
Most favor either knives or guns, but some can get very original.
Carl and Rose carry spears around for some reason. I think they like that it can double as a staff.
Pix has a slingshot – very deadly one at that. The thing can punch a hole through a fucking wall. She keeps pouches filles with small rocks that she sharpens in her free time by busting them against a bigger, harder one.
And I've heard Nemo has a bow, though she doesn't use it that much except for show.
At night.
When she's having her fun terrorizing late kids, elderly shop owners and idiotic gang wannabes.
She likes those especially. She enjoys shooting an arrow right through whatever they're smoking, and watch them try to figure out where that came from, wide-eyed and gaping.
Then she shoots a second one in a nearby wall and cackles as she watches them flee, tail between their legs.
She's a legend. Knows it. Nourishes it. Basks in it.
When she gets down to business though, it's another story. She's cold and efficient and throws a blade with terrifying accuracy.
The target doesn't even realize they're hit until they reach the ground.
That happens more often than I'd care to admit. When she's threatened. When she's angry. When she feels like it.
I'm coming to realize that this chick believes this city is a playground for her to fuck about in.
And none of the people around her even realize how fucked up that is.
A/N: We're finally getting down to the heart of the story. We're about halfway to the end. Thoughts?