While she slept, her parents pulled into their massive driveway. It had been a successful trip; All four horses that Nichole's dad bet on won, though he had known they would in advance. Nichole's mother was pleased too, for she had a particularly lucrative week at the bank that she owned. It was this mood that the two parents made their way through the front door and around the leather sofa in the living room... It was this mood that almost made them miss the obvious signs of intrusion in their office. As their pleased moods quickly wore off, they noticed the door slightly ajar, and inside they saw a drawer askew. They panicked; all their most intimate and damning paperwork was in that desk. Immeadiately they sent orders to summon everyone in the household, and this included Nichole.
Her heart pounded. "Mom and Dad aren't supposed to be back yet! Oh God, how could I have left the door open? They'll figure out it's me..." She tried to compose her thoughts, because she knew that if her parents even suspected she was involved, it would mean her life. Her parents had no loyalty except to money, and she knew that lately, she had been costing her parents more money than she had been making. As her parents motioned her over, she resolved that she wouldn't let them figure out what she had done. "I'm going to fool them until I can figure out what they're doing. I won't let them catch me." Her resolve, rather mature for a 12 year old, was due to the fact that she knew her parents couldn't prove it was her. She had always wanted to be an actress, and she knew that if she didn't succeed in her first role as an innocent preteen, it could be her last role. Ever.
~~~~~~~~~~
The interview was over... And Nichole felt safe. She had fielded her parent's questions with ease, pretending she was the innocent 12 year old her parents thought they knew and loved. As she climbed back up the spiral staircase to her room, she paused and looked back down. Her parents had moved on to interviewing the household staff. A momentary flash of panic hit her. What if someone innocent died because she forgot to close the office door? She couldn't let that happen. She ran the rest of the way to her room and slammed the door shut. She always felt better when she wrote things down; it made her feel like the plan was already in action before she had even thought of it. As she scribbled down notes about anything, and everything, she knew about cover-ups (which amounted to very little), she heard two shots ring out downstairs.
***
Nichole sprinted clumsily down the staircase, stopping at the landing. Immediately she saw Farren, the family gardener, standing over her dead parents. They were slumped over the desk they had been sitting at, the desk Nichole had broken into. Farren's eyes flashed to Nichole, and fear seized her. She had always trusted Farren (she had no reason not to), but the Smith and Wesson in his hands led her to believe he had shot her parents. There was a moment of silence, and Nichole realized she couldn't move, even though she desperately wanted to. Finally Farren spoke, speaking in his low and calm voice, "I'm sorry, I had no choice. They were going to kill me, I don't know why". Nichole let out her breath. "Farren, I... I didn't know you knew how to shoot guns". It was a stupid thing to say, she knew, but the sight of her dead parents was almost too much for the 12 year old to handle.
***
Farren led the confused girl outside the office. No one was supposed to see that, especially not his bosses' daughter. Now, what to do with the bodies? What to do with Nichole? He hadn't thought this very well through, though to be fair, he didn't have any time to. He turned to survey the young girl, who stared dumbly back at him. "I'm so sorry. I'm..." He turned from her, because he knew if she started crying, all would be ruined. No one else had heard the shots, but someone would surely hear the young girl wailing; all of the staff had been trained to respond instantly if Nichole had ever wanted anything. While Farren sorted through his thoughts, Nichole suddenly regained her mental faculties. No, it wasn't a tragedy that he shot her parents! She really didn't have any attachment to them, because nannies had raised her from birth. And any danger they might have posed to her was now gone. She turned to Farren, who eyed her, and spoke the words that would forever change her life: "Can you teach me to shoot?"
***
In the months that passed after the accident, Farren and Nichole bonded quickly. This was the first time in her life that she felt a connection to someone. Though she still called him by his first name, she really felt he was her new father. They went out shooting almost everyday, and Nichole was quickly honing her natural talent. She still was able to act, though, and it saved both of their lives once again. In the hours after the incident, Farren had called the police. When they arrived, Nichole, tear-stained, walked them to the office. She made a point of crying hysterically: it seemed natural to her that a young kid would be distraught in a situation like this, and it also distracted the cops. The cops didn't stay long: they had medics take the bodies, and they questioned Farren and Nichole. Neither admitted to anything, claiming that some masked man had run quickly into the house and shot the couple. It wouldn't be hard to believe, because Nichole's parents had many enemies, and the bullets were untraceable. Custody was given to Farren, because Nichole had no living relatives, and it was what she requested. The house, the cars, everything, was now hers. She liquidated her parent's assets (the legal ones, anyways), and prepared herself for the life that awaited her. It would be different, sure, but far more enjoyable. She would never again have to wonder if her life was in jeopardy, and never have to tip-toe around her parents.
***
She held the gun in her hand, and glanced at the target. She liked the weight of the gun in her hand, and she liked that Farren now trusted her to shoot without him breathing over her shoulder. She cocked the gun, took one more glance at the red and white target many feet away, and squeezed the trigger. Of course the bullet hit the bulls-eye, she had known it would. She turned and grinned at Farren, who nodded back at her. She had a good eye and a steady hand, and it was due to this that Farren presented a new challenge to her. She could handle one gun fine, but how about two? Was her left hand as steady as her right? Was her focus strong enough? Farren decided, what the hell, why not? It surely couldn't hurt to find out. And it was in this manner that the two spent the rest of her adolescent life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the morning of her fourth birthday, Monica awoke with the sun. She knew it would be one of the best days of her life. She was yet to learn why, but Alfred, her family butler, had been telling her she would receive a very special present today.
Though she was young, she was adept at dressing herself and tying her shoes. This allowed her to get ready and sneak down the servants’ staircase in the back of the mansion. There was already a small amount of traffic on the staircase but it didn’t matter; the servants who worked in the home were far more loyal to Monica than her parents. She was intelligent and charming and, despite her age, was far less demanding than her parents. All of the residents of the servants’ quarters were used to her company and enjoyed it very much. This allowed her to pass down the staircase without the worry of being scolded.
Once downstairs, she politely asked a cook to allow her our back. From there, she ran as fast as her legs would take her towards the pigpen. She knew that once her parents awoke she would not be allowed near the filth of the animal cages without supervision and there was no way she would be allowed to actually come in contact with the animals. Sneaking clumsily under the bars of the cage, she hurried to hug her favorite piglet (whom she had mentally named Duchess) before she was overtaken by cries for attention by all the inhabitants of the cage.
An hour in the cages of the various animals raised on her family farm was all the time Monica was allowed at that moment. She knew she should go back inside to bathe and change in order to continue keeping her time with the animals a secret. As she climbed haphazardly over a wooden fence, a very young calf caught her shoelaces and would not let them go. As she fell back into the cage, she prepared to be angry but, upon seeing the small black cow and looking into it’s large brown eyes, she simply removed her shoelace and let the cow continue chewing it as she tried once more to climb out of the cage.
After returning the house and hiding all traces of her morning adventure, Monica waited patiently in the breakfast nook for her parents to come greet her with her birthday presents. While she waited, servants came and went some leaving treats for her, others brought breakfast; others still left her with hugs and birthday wishes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The party was stupid and boring and nobody was within ten years of her age. It was all old, rich, snobby people and their incredibly young and annoying grandchildren, not that she would have been much more enthusiastic about the situation if there were people her age around. Monica strode out to the front yard by herself; away from the fancy party her parents had forced her to attend with them. Yes, she knew it was the dead of night and incredibly cold outside but it was her only alternative to being around people.
The wind whipped at the hem of the black cocktail dress her mother had forced her to wear and her hair blew into her eyes, getting caught in her glasses, as she stepped out the front door. She was a little dismayed by what surrounded her. There was a beautiful garden, filled with breathtaking fountains and exotic flowers of every kind and color that only increased in beauty in the moonlight, but that was not what caught her off guard. There were streetlights and other houses and civilization in general. Growing up in a rural part of the area had made her sensitive to these things, as they were such a rarity near her home.
Monica walked down to the curb and glanced up and down the street amazed by the proximity of the other houses. While she was adjusting to the seemingly bizarre situation, she noticed a small figure suddenly appear under a streetlamp down the block. Initially, she thought the person just appeared small because of distance but as the figure approached it became clear that this was a rather small person. A young girls face peeked out from underneath the hood on the approaching figure. Though the girl was young she wasn’t much younger than Monica, who was only fifteen at the time.
The girl looked up as she approached and glared at Monica who stood directly in her path. She slowed to a stop as she approached and neither girl said a word for several very long, tense moments as each girl stared into the others eyes hoping to catch a glimpse of motive or reasoning. As it became clear to Monica that the girl would not speak without provocation, she tried to think of something to say in the way of a greeting.
“Why are you standing out here in the cold by yourself just staring at nothing?” the girl said in a polite but edgy and somewhat demanding voice. The question frightened her, mostly because she did not expect the girl to speak.
“I-I umm, well, I don’t know really.” Monica’s voice could barely be heard above the wind but the girl understood her no problem. “What about you?’ Monica spat back in a failed attempt at wit and originality, but at least with more conviction than before.
“It doesn’t matter,” the girl growled softy as she shifted her jacket o reveal the handle of a gun sticking from the waistband of her jeans. Instead of being frightened by the gesture as the girl had intended, a twisted sort of grin began to erupt from Monica’s face. She took a step back and a full-blown smile appeared.
“Wanna see something really cool?” Monica inquired already knowing she wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. “Can I see a single bullet?” she added, again not prepared to accept a negative answer. The girl pulled the gun from her waistband reluctantly but with some subtle signs of excitement bubbling around her eyes.
Monica took the bullet as the girl proffered it and knelt down on the ground, dumping a collection of seemingly useless crap from the small handbag she was carrying onto the cement sidewalk. The girl knelt down as well trying to get a better look at what was being done but Monica was bend over her hands working intently for a few moments before sitting back up and returning most of the assortment of junk of the ground to her purse, except for a few paper gum wrappers, a box of matches, the now empty bullet casing and a strange dark paste the had appeared on the ground suddenly.
“Stand back and watch this.” Monica grinned maniacally as she struck a match and lit the gum wrappers stuck in the black goo. The display of pyrotechnics was amazing for only a few short moments of work. Red and orange sparks shot four feet into the air, sizzling and popping for several minutes before finally petering out in a multicolored final fizzle. “That was louder than I expected” Monica said with a sense of anti-climax.
“Can you show me how to do that?” The girl asked with a bit of a nervous edge to her voice. Before Monica could respond though, she noticed the girl jerk stiffly and suddenly. Monica glanced over her shoulder and saw a cop car rolling slowly down the street. Without a word, Monica began to walk back toward the mansion-esque house from whence she had come. The girl took the hint and began to continue on her path as well but before either girl made it more than a few feet Monica jumped back around ad asked hesitantly, “Do you have a name?”
The girl smiled softly and responded, with a glimmer of mischief in her eyes, “Nichole.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The bar was filled with young, desperate men. Anna, though tough (and indifferent) wasn't used to this crowd. She had lived a life of discipline; Both her parents had been involded in the armed forces, though her mother's airforce background had influenced Anna the most. She looked around the filthy bar, trying to comprehend what she imagined the rest of her life to look like. She hadn't meant to punch the lieutenant for his remark, but at the same time, her pride wouldn't have let her walk away from the discrimmination, the sexism, without making a stand. Suddenly, a hand grabbed her shoulder and yanked hard. Anna twirled around, more surprised than anything. A young man, maybe in his mid 20's, stared drunkenly at her. It was impossible to mistake the intent in his eyes... He could barely keep his eyes on her smooth face. Anna felt the usual anger build up, but she surpressed it. It was a miracle she hadn't been jailed for the incident at the naval ship, and she didn't want her life to sink to a brand new low just hours after her dishonorable discharge. Just as she turned back towards the bar, Anna saw a fist launch into the man's face, and heard a drunken yelp. Standing above the man was a woman, wearing boots and a striped shirt, glaring angrily at the now unconscious face. Anna was shocked: Who was this girl, and what possessed her to punch this, annoying but potentially harmeless man?
The mysterious girl saved Anna the awkwardness of asking those questions. "Can you believe that jerk? Sorry, but he was making a move for you... And it didn't look like you wanted to get involved. Oh, I'm Nichole. Who are you?"
"oh, umm, I'm Anna."
"Anna? Oh, ok. Hey, let me introduce you to my friend Monica. Hey, Monica!"
With that, a tall, bookish lady walked over from accross the room. She seemed timid to Anna, yet she possesed a calm, sure quality about herself. No one could mess with her. She sat on the other side of Nichole, and barely mumbled a 'hello' at Anna.
"So, how are you? That guy'll be fine... He'll wake up in an hour maybe, but he'll have a huge headache."
Anna carefully considered her answer. She had no idea who these people were, and the one called Nichole seemed kinda violent. "Well, I just lost my... Uh, job."
"Oh, that's not good."
"Yea, I know."
Anna searched her brain for something to say. Turning to Monica, she asked, "So, do you fight too?" As soon as she said it, Anna knew it was a stupid thing to say. The shock on both of their faces temporarily impeded their abilities to speak. Finally, Monica mumbled, "No... No, I work with explosives..."
Anna wasn't sure if she was joking, but the surprise and anger that crossed Nichole's face implied that Monica spoke the truth. "What?!!? Why on earth did you tell her that? Oh God..."
"What? Explosives? Why is that bad? I like explosives... I think."
Monica took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Well, umm.. Well, I kinda, I kinda..."
Nichole, with a much more controlled tone, slowly muttered "Ok, Anna, don't panic. Walk with us, we're going outside."
***
An hour later, Anna stared at her companions through the screen that separeted the front seats from the back seats in their ford van. Everything they had told her was, well, surprising and illegal, to say the least. Nichole and Monica were rogue soldiers of fortune. They traveled from motel to hotel, searching out any scum that the cops had missed. "It certaintly explained why Nichole punched that drunk guy." Anna thought. They had asked her to join their outfit, to become a warrior in the fight against social injustice. Anna might have said no.. She knew she would have walked away, except that she had no job, no means of supporting herself. Nichole and Monica, on the other hand, were filthy rich. Once Anna had told them her real story, including the airforce incident, they begged her to be their pilot. "What the hell? Its a paying job, right?" she thought.
***
As the car slowly rolled to a stop, Anna saw a filthy hotel light flicker. Nichole opened her door, and frowned slightly. "I know this isn't a 5 star resort, but places like these are full of jerks that the cops are too stupid to catch. This is where we find most of our targets."
"I see..."
Monica spoke up for the first time in over an hour. "You better get some sleep. We're going to hit up a nice resort tomorrow-this guy two rooms over said he's going to unload a bunch of drugs in room 217 of some resort... I think its owned by the millionare they call 'Alex'."
Anna nodded. She knew she had made a dramatic choice earlier. Never again would she fly in the air force.. Now, she was working with two dangerous women who, in fact, detested the military, or at least the American military system. She supposed she could get used to it, this new life she picked up in a bar. She would have to, she couldn't back out now. She sighed, took one last look at the ford van, and walked into her hotel room. "A drug bust at Alex's hotel? What did I get myself into?" She thought. "Well, it doesn't matter... Get a good night's sleep, don't think about it..." Little did she know, one little drug bust would change the course of her entire life.
