"Go!"
A dark figure moved quickly across the garage, heading for the red Porsche. His hands trembled, his heart pounded. He opened his jacket and fumbled with his tools. Sweat poured down the back of his neck. His hands were cold and clammy. He swallowed, his heartbeat loud in his ears. His vision blurred. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He dropped one of the metal tools to the cement floor with a loud **CLANG!**
"Shit!" he hissed.
Gunshots fired.
He fell to the floor, covering his head with his arms. *They never said it would be this bad!*
Overhead lights flashed on. Heavy boots clomped on the floor, heading his direction.
"Bang!" a deep, rich voice shouted. "You're dead."
The figure on the floor rolled over and looked up, allowing his arms to flop out on either side of him. He wore a black leather jacket and black leather pants. Pale, icy blue eyes met deep, chocolate ones.
"You didn't give me enough time."
"The cops won't give you enough time, Bryson!"
"They wouldn't have gotten here that fast!" Bryson answered, jumping up and brushing off his jacket.
"Don't get in my face," he answered calmly. He was about 6'2", with a shaved head and muscles to spare. His right arm was covered in tattoos, and his left shoulder sported them as well. He wore a white shirt with not sleeves and red, silver and black pants and heavy black boots.
"I would'a had more time!" Bryson insisted.
He snorted. "D?"
A 5'6" 17-year-old with short, light brown hair walked up. Her hair was cut longer in the front and shorter in the back. The few pieces in the front fell even with the corners of her mouth. She had grayish-green eyes fringed in incredibly thick eyelashes. She shook her head. "Bang," she said in a soft voice.
"No freakin' way!" Bryson argued again.
D smiled. "Assuming that someone saw you as you snuck into the garage and immediately called the police and also assuming that the police station is no more than eight miles away from this particular site . . ." she paused to think. "Considering that all these things are true, the police would have been in here at the exact moment the lights came on. You, sir, would be dead or worse - on your way to prison."
Bryson huffed and fell back against the car.
"Get your nasty butt off my car," D hissed.
"Shut up, Danica."
Shaking her head, Danica walked away and sat in a butterfly chair near the bar.
The garage was actually a huge warehouse on the edge of town. The owner was Danica's uncle and had given it to her a few years before. The garage held all of their "toys" as Tumbler liked to call them. Everything from suped-up cars to dirt-bikes to parachuting equipment was in the "garage" part of the building. On the left wall was a bar with stools. The corner near the bar held a big-screen TV with a piece of black carpeting. A butterfly chair and a couple of beanbags and a few large pillows sat near the TV.
A tall blonde wearing dark jeans and a Rammstein shirt lounged on one of the beanbags, his bare feet propped up against the wall.
"I hate Lindsey's brother," Danica hissed at the blonde.
He grinned. "But he is good. He was always good. He just needs to get back in the practice," he answered. He had a gravelly voice with a thick Russian accent.
Danica huffed.
"You know that once someone learns something like this, they don't forget," he continued. "Just give him a chance."
"Oh, shut up, Kolya," Danica spat and threw one of the pillows at him. "I need a Fuzzy Navel." She got up and went to the bar.
"Make me one while you're at it!" Kolya yelled, then turned back to watching the X-Games on TV.
Danica nodded and proceeded to fix the drinks.
A young woman of about 19 or so walked in. She had black hair cut even with her shoulders and dark black eyes. Her skin was pale and she wore a black coat with fur around the collar and the cuffs. She held a laptop in her hands and she sat down at the bar.
"What's up, Yelena?" Danica asked.
Yelena shook her head. "I'm trying to get this dumb thing to work," she answered, opening the laptop and typing on it. She, like Kolya, had a Russian accent.
"Lemme see," Danica said and spun the computer around so she could see the screen. "What are you wanting to do?"
"Check our damned e-mail," Yelena sighed, resting her chin in her hand and drumming the fingers of her other hand on the counter.
Danica typed, then smiled. "There ya go."
"What did you do?" Yelena asked.
"If I told ya, I'd have to shoot ya," Danica answered, then went back to the drinks.
"Stupid Americans," Yelena muttered.
The phone rang. Kolya answered it. "Kit and Tumbler are on their way. They said they went shopping."
"Are the cops following them?"
Kolya shook his head. "Nah. We're too good for those stupid doughnut dunkers to ever figure anything out."
"What's sad is that we're right here in front of their face," Danica said, walking towards Kolya with the drinks. She held one out to him and he accepted it.
"Has anyone seen Yorgi?" Yelena asked.
"Nope," Kolya answered. "Why?"
"I need to speak with him."
"He might be in the shooting galley with Kirill."
Yelena nodded, then stood up and left, taking her laptop with her.
No one had really been paying attention to the two young men who were still arguing.
Finally, though, after a few minutes, Danica had had enough. "Bryson! Xander! Knock it off!"
Both of them froze, blinked, and walked away from each other. Xander headed upstairs into another part of the warehouse. More than likely, he was going to his room. Either there, or the climbing wall.
Soon after, one of the garage doors opened, accompanied by a blast of cool air. A black Honda Civic and a yellow Ford Mustang pulled in and the doors closed.
Danica and Kolya stood.
Tumbler stepped out from his Civic and smiled. He was about 6' with dirty blond hair and silver eyes. He was built and had a square, scratchy face. He wore baggy overalls over a tight blue shirt.
Kit stepped out of the Mustang. He was about 5'9" with slicked back, greasy hair and brown eyes. He had a goatee and he wore a denim jacket and denim jeans. He grinned wildly.
"You stole that, didn't you?" Danica asked.
"What?" Kit asked, jumping into a sitting position on the hood of the car. "This ol' thing? Nah, I just dug it up from the bottom of my closet. I dunno . . . do you think it makes my butt look big?"
Danica rolled her eyes and tried not to laugh.
Kit was always getting into trouble. He and Tumbler were always finding some way to cause trouble for the Police or "Popos" as they so fondly called them.
Snickering, Danica went back to the TV.
"Did you hear about Lindsey?" Tumbler asked his two companions.
Kolya shook his head.
"I hear she's back in the states," Tumbler said.
"She probably stole too many cars and they deported her," Kit said, lighting a cigarette.
"Or horses," Kolya added.
"No, it was something about her host mother," Tumbler said. "They didn't click or some shit like that."
Kit shrugged. "Yeah, Linnie ain't exactly the best person to try to get along with . . . especially if someone's trying to play 'mom' with her."
Kolya nodded his agreement. "It is better this way. She belongs here with us."
"Damn straight, she does," Tumbler laughed.
Kit puffed on his cigarette, thoughtfully. "I dunno, though . . ."
"You don't know what?" Tumbler asked.
"I mean, she gave this all up to go there," Kit answered. "Why would she come home so quick? She was only gone about four months. Did she miss us that bad? Or was it something else that forced her to come home? I mean, are we really important to her or are we just her fall-back?"
"She loves it here with us," Kolya said. "She would not use us as a fall- back."
Tumbler nodded.
"But still," Kit said, "I wonder."
*~*~*~
Yelena found Yorgi in the galley, just as Kolya had said. Kirill was practicing shooting his rifle at the moving targets.
Yelena tapped Yorgi on the shoulder and signaled for him to follow her outside of the room where they could talk. He nodded and followed.
Yorgi was in his mid-twenties with black hair that hung in loose curls to his shoulders. He had dark eyes and a thin beard.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I received two very important messages," Yelena answered.
"What are they?"
"One is another order for more cars in South Africa," Yelena answered.
Yorgi nodded once.
"And the other is information."
"What sort of information?"
"It seems that one of ours has returned home." She placed the laptop down on a nearby counter and opened it, revealing the e-mail.
Yorgi skimmed over it, then smiled. "Our little redhead has returned home, has she?"
Yelena nodded. "Should we contact her?"
Yorgi shook his head. "No, let us wait for her to come to us. You know that she will. She cannot resist the ways of her old life."
Yelena smiled. "Fine. I have other matters to attend to."
"Such as?"
"Letting Toby know about our new order so he can locate them for us," she answered as she walked away.
Yorgi watched her go, then he smiled to himself as he turned back to watch his brother. *So, she has come home. I knew that she would. This may become very interesting.* he thought to himself.
*~*~*~
Lindsey awoke the next morning, not quite sure where she was at first. Then she blinked and looked around the room. It was a large, white room with a desk, a TV and shelves. The shelves held books, trophies and horse figurines. The bed was a queen-size canopy bed with a blue canopy and a thick, white, rose and blue comforter. She heaved a sigh and fell back against the soft pillows.
"It wasn't a dream," she muttered miserably. She began to cry again. "I hate my life," she sobbed. She covered her eyes with her arm and rolled over.
"Breakfast!" Shayne yelled from downstairs.
Lindsey's stomach heaved at the thought of food. Nothing sounded good. The only thing she wanted to do was pad down the wooden-floored hallway, turn into the kitchen and see Goku, Gohan, Goten and Chichi sitting there. She wanted to give Chichi the biggest hug imaginable and tell her she was sorry. But she couldn't. She had made her decision too hastily and come home in such a huff that she hadn't thought it through. And now she was regretting it. It would be another eight months at LEAST before Jenny and Sabriena came home. And by then, who knows how much they would have changed?
There was a soft knock at the door and Shayne stuck his head in. "C'mon, Baby Sis," he said in a softer voice than usual. "Ain't ya hungry?"
Lindsey shook her head.
Shayne walked in and sat on the side of her bed. "What's the matter?"
"I shouldn't have come home!" she sobbed. "I want to go back!"
Shayne shook his head. "You're home now. You gave it a whirl, and it didn't work out. Maybe next year you can go somewhere else. You said you liked Australia. Why not try it?"
"I don't want Australia! I love Japan! And I love Gohan."
Shayne eyed the ring on his little sister's finger. "You went off and got engaged, didn't you?"
She nodded.
He hugged her. "It'll be okay. You haven't seen anyone for a long time. Why don't you go hang out with some of them this afternoon?"
She shrugged. "Maybe."
"Yorgi has been asking about you," Shayne said. "You should pay him a visit."
"Yorgi?" Lindsey asked. "Really?"
Shayne nodded. He never really cared for Yorgi - heck, he had only met him once or twice, but he knew that Lindsey admired Yorgi. "Yeah."
She seemed to perk up. "Okay."
"You want to eat something?"
"I guess," she answered, wiping her eyes. "Is Bryson at the warehouse?"
Shayne's expression turned stormy. "Probably."
Lindsey nodded. "Well, I'll just go out there this evening to see them. I won't get all hung up in that again."
Shayne smiled and nodded. "Okay, then."
Lindsey smiled. "Wait, what's today?"
"Friday," Shayne answered.
Lindsey smiled wider. "There'll be a party tonight."
Shayne shook his head. "I worry about you."
Lindsey grinned. "I know it."
*~*~*~
Well, it's kind'a boring, but it's a start, right? =^_^=
A dark figure moved quickly across the garage, heading for the red Porsche. His hands trembled, his heart pounded. He opened his jacket and fumbled with his tools. Sweat poured down the back of his neck. His hands were cold and clammy. He swallowed, his heartbeat loud in his ears. His vision blurred. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He dropped one of the metal tools to the cement floor with a loud **CLANG!**
"Shit!" he hissed.
Gunshots fired.
He fell to the floor, covering his head with his arms. *They never said it would be this bad!*
Overhead lights flashed on. Heavy boots clomped on the floor, heading his direction.
"Bang!" a deep, rich voice shouted. "You're dead."
The figure on the floor rolled over and looked up, allowing his arms to flop out on either side of him. He wore a black leather jacket and black leather pants. Pale, icy blue eyes met deep, chocolate ones.
"You didn't give me enough time."
"The cops won't give you enough time, Bryson!"
"They wouldn't have gotten here that fast!" Bryson answered, jumping up and brushing off his jacket.
"Don't get in my face," he answered calmly. He was about 6'2", with a shaved head and muscles to spare. His right arm was covered in tattoos, and his left shoulder sported them as well. He wore a white shirt with not sleeves and red, silver and black pants and heavy black boots.
"I would'a had more time!" Bryson insisted.
He snorted. "D?"
A 5'6" 17-year-old with short, light brown hair walked up. Her hair was cut longer in the front and shorter in the back. The few pieces in the front fell even with the corners of her mouth. She had grayish-green eyes fringed in incredibly thick eyelashes. She shook her head. "Bang," she said in a soft voice.
"No freakin' way!" Bryson argued again.
D smiled. "Assuming that someone saw you as you snuck into the garage and immediately called the police and also assuming that the police station is no more than eight miles away from this particular site . . ." she paused to think. "Considering that all these things are true, the police would have been in here at the exact moment the lights came on. You, sir, would be dead or worse - on your way to prison."
Bryson huffed and fell back against the car.
"Get your nasty butt off my car," D hissed.
"Shut up, Danica."
Shaking her head, Danica walked away and sat in a butterfly chair near the bar.
The garage was actually a huge warehouse on the edge of town. The owner was Danica's uncle and had given it to her a few years before. The garage held all of their "toys" as Tumbler liked to call them. Everything from suped-up cars to dirt-bikes to parachuting equipment was in the "garage" part of the building. On the left wall was a bar with stools. The corner near the bar held a big-screen TV with a piece of black carpeting. A butterfly chair and a couple of beanbags and a few large pillows sat near the TV.
A tall blonde wearing dark jeans and a Rammstein shirt lounged on one of the beanbags, his bare feet propped up against the wall.
"I hate Lindsey's brother," Danica hissed at the blonde.
He grinned. "But he is good. He was always good. He just needs to get back in the practice," he answered. He had a gravelly voice with a thick Russian accent.
Danica huffed.
"You know that once someone learns something like this, they don't forget," he continued. "Just give him a chance."
"Oh, shut up, Kolya," Danica spat and threw one of the pillows at him. "I need a Fuzzy Navel." She got up and went to the bar.
"Make me one while you're at it!" Kolya yelled, then turned back to watching the X-Games on TV.
Danica nodded and proceeded to fix the drinks.
A young woman of about 19 or so walked in. She had black hair cut even with her shoulders and dark black eyes. Her skin was pale and she wore a black coat with fur around the collar and the cuffs. She held a laptop in her hands and she sat down at the bar.
"What's up, Yelena?" Danica asked.
Yelena shook her head. "I'm trying to get this dumb thing to work," she answered, opening the laptop and typing on it. She, like Kolya, had a Russian accent.
"Lemme see," Danica said and spun the computer around so she could see the screen. "What are you wanting to do?"
"Check our damned e-mail," Yelena sighed, resting her chin in her hand and drumming the fingers of her other hand on the counter.
Danica typed, then smiled. "There ya go."
"What did you do?" Yelena asked.
"If I told ya, I'd have to shoot ya," Danica answered, then went back to the drinks.
"Stupid Americans," Yelena muttered.
The phone rang. Kolya answered it. "Kit and Tumbler are on their way. They said they went shopping."
"Are the cops following them?"
Kolya shook his head. "Nah. We're too good for those stupid doughnut dunkers to ever figure anything out."
"What's sad is that we're right here in front of their face," Danica said, walking towards Kolya with the drinks. She held one out to him and he accepted it.
"Has anyone seen Yorgi?" Yelena asked.
"Nope," Kolya answered. "Why?"
"I need to speak with him."
"He might be in the shooting galley with Kirill."
Yelena nodded, then stood up and left, taking her laptop with her.
No one had really been paying attention to the two young men who were still arguing.
Finally, though, after a few minutes, Danica had had enough. "Bryson! Xander! Knock it off!"
Both of them froze, blinked, and walked away from each other. Xander headed upstairs into another part of the warehouse. More than likely, he was going to his room. Either there, or the climbing wall.
Soon after, one of the garage doors opened, accompanied by a blast of cool air. A black Honda Civic and a yellow Ford Mustang pulled in and the doors closed.
Danica and Kolya stood.
Tumbler stepped out from his Civic and smiled. He was about 6' with dirty blond hair and silver eyes. He was built and had a square, scratchy face. He wore baggy overalls over a tight blue shirt.
Kit stepped out of the Mustang. He was about 5'9" with slicked back, greasy hair and brown eyes. He had a goatee and he wore a denim jacket and denim jeans. He grinned wildly.
"You stole that, didn't you?" Danica asked.
"What?" Kit asked, jumping into a sitting position on the hood of the car. "This ol' thing? Nah, I just dug it up from the bottom of my closet. I dunno . . . do you think it makes my butt look big?"
Danica rolled her eyes and tried not to laugh.
Kit was always getting into trouble. He and Tumbler were always finding some way to cause trouble for the Police or "Popos" as they so fondly called them.
Snickering, Danica went back to the TV.
"Did you hear about Lindsey?" Tumbler asked his two companions.
Kolya shook his head.
"I hear she's back in the states," Tumbler said.
"She probably stole too many cars and they deported her," Kit said, lighting a cigarette.
"Or horses," Kolya added.
"No, it was something about her host mother," Tumbler said. "They didn't click or some shit like that."
Kit shrugged. "Yeah, Linnie ain't exactly the best person to try to get along with . . . especially if someone's trying to play 'mom' with her."
Kolya nodded his agreement. "It is better this way. She belongs here with us."
"Damn straight, she does," Tumbler laughed.
Kit puffed on his cigarette, thoughtfully. "I dunno, though . . ."
"You don't know what?" Tumbler asked.
"I mean, she gave this all up to go there," Kit answered. "Why would she come home so quick? She was only gone about four months. Did she miss us that bad? Or was it something else that forced her to come home? I mean, are we really important to her or are we just her fall-back?"
"She loves it here with us," Kolya said. "She would not use us as a fall- back."
Tumbler nodded.
"But still," Kit said, "I wonder."
*~*~*~
Yelena found Yorgi in the galley, just as Kolya had said. Kirill was practicing shooting his rifle at the moving targets.
Yelena tapped Yorgi on the shoulder and signaled for him to follow her outside of the room where they could talk. He nodded and followed.
Yorgi was in his mid-twenties with black hair that hung in loose curls to his shoulders. He had dark eyes and a thin beard.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I received two very important messages," Yelena answered.
"What are they?"
"One is another order for more cars in South Africa," Yelena answered.
Yorgi nodded once.
"And the other is information."
"What sort of information?"
"It seems that one of ours has returned home." She placed the laptop down on a nearby counter and opened it, revealing the e-mail.
Yorgi skimmed over it, then smiled. "Our little redhead has returned home, has she?"
Yelena nodded. "Should we contact her?"
Yorgi shook his head. "No, let us wait for her to come to us. You know that she will. She cannot resist the ways of her old life."
Yelena smiled. "Fine. I have other matters to attend to."
"Such as?"
"Letting Toby know about our new order so he can locate them for us," she answered as she walked away.
Yorgi watched her go, then he smiled to himself as he turned back to watch his brother. *So, she has come home. I knew that she would. This may become very interesting.* he thought to himself.
*~*~*~
Lindsey awoke the next morning, not quite sure where she was at first. Then she blinked and looked around the room. It was a large, white room with a desk, a TV and shelves. The shelves held books, trophies and horse figurines. The bed was a queen-size canopy bed with a blue canopy and a thick, white, rose and blue comforter. She heaved a sigh and fell back against the soft pillows.
"It wasn't a dream," she muttered miserably. She began to cry again. "I hate my life," she sobbed. She covered her eyes with her arm and rolled over.
"Breakfast!" Shayne yelled from downstairs.
Lindsey's stomach heaved at the thought of food. Nothing sounded good. The only thing she wanted to do was pad down the wooden-floored hallway, turn into the kitchen and see Goku, Gohan, Goten and Chichi sitting there. She wanted to give Chichi the biggest hug imaginable and tell her she was sorry. But she couldn't. She had made her decision too hastily and come home in such a huff that she hadn't thought it through. And now she was regretting it. It would be another eight months at LEAST before Jenny and Sabriena came home. And by then, who knows how much they would have changed?
There was a soft knock at the door and Shayne stuck his head in. "C'mon, Baby Sis," he said in a softer voice than usual. "Ain't ya hungry?"
Lindsey shook her head.
Shayne walked in and sat on the side of her bed. "What's the matter?"
"I shouldn't have come home!" she sobbed. "I want to go back!"
Shayne shook his head. "You're home now. You gave it a whirl, and it didn't work out. Maybe next year you can go somewhere else. You said you liked Australia. Why not try it?"
"I don't want Australia! I love Japan! And I love Gohan."
Shayne eyed the ring on his little sister's finger. "You went off and got engaged, didn't you?"
She nodded.
He hugged her. "It'll be okay. You haven't seen anyone for a long time. Why don't you go hang out with some of them this afternoon?"
She shrugged. "Maybe."
"Yorgi has been asking about you," Shayne said. "You should pay him a visit."
"Yorgi?" Lindsey asked. "Really?"
Shayne nodded. He never really cared for Yorgi - heck, he had only met him once or twice, but he knew that Lindsey admired Yorgi. "Yeah."
She seemed to perk up. "Okay."
"You want to eat something?"
"I guess," she answered, wiping her eyes. "Is Bryson at the warehouse?"
Shayne's expression turned stormy. "Probably."
Lindsey nodded. "Well, I'll just go out there this evening to see them. I won't get all hung up in that again."
Shayne smiled and nodded. "Okay, then."
Lindsey smiled. "Wait, what's today?"
"Friday," Shayne answered.
Lindsey smiled wider. "There'll be a party tonight."
Shayne shook his head. "I worry about you."
Lindsey grinned. "I know it."
*~*~*~
Well, it's kind'a boring, but it's a start, right? =^_^=