Trigger

A little piece I'm working on. I'm new to this Forum, So if I do something that is not the norm please let me know =]
This is only the first bit. I don't really know how this site works yet. But expect several mini-chapters. Second one is already up as well. Do read and review! =]

Enjoy!



Trigger


She was a pretty blonde southern belle.

He was a dark, tall and handsome city boy.

She is the epitome of a rouge crime fighter, tough, intelligent and agile, a real work of art.

He is a sinewy muscular FBI agent, top in his department and a miracle with a gun.

She has been genetically modified to feel no fear.

He is incapable of feeling any pain.

She can jump in front of a moving bullet without flinching.

He has faster muscle regeneration than any man on the planet.



They are assigned to be partners, they make the most formidable task force that the Country would have ever seen.

They were lovers once upon a time.

They now hate the living guts out of each other

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My father was a good man.

Everything he did, I knew he did for the best. No matter what anyone else said, I knew he was just trying to make the world a better place.

It didn’t matter that he barely spent time with his family, his only daughter. It didn’t matter that he never made any of my birthdays or softball games or concerts. My father was a busy man and I understood that he needed time off to do what he did best, help the rest of the world.

A musty establishment by the name of Crusty Gee stood, or rather, leaned at a dark alley just off fifty-nine street. It was a low-grade, dusty, dirty bar filled with equally low-grade, dusty, dirty customers. A normal night for a normal man consists of cheap liquor that would most certainly give you a bad case of alcohol poisoning; and enough beer to ensure that whatever loose prostitute winks your way would look almost attractive enough to bed.

Crusty Gee. Where the dirtiest of the dirtiest choose to spend their nights. It wasn’t without a doubt that almost every person here was armed to the teeth, and too poor to afford a roof over their head. In this area of town, a high-class gun was valued more than any Beemer, phone or condominium. For a little over a dollar, illegally made vodka from bathtubs can be served fresh under your nose. Music blared in the background, loud enough to tear one’s ears apart; vulgar enough to offend any self-respecting citizen.

A lone female sat by the bar, not an uncommon sight, her dark figure hunched over the mug of beer that has been untouched since the moment she walked into this disgraceful place. With a black sweater and dark jeans, and her hood covering her hair, she resembled almost every other homeless, starving girl that headed to the streets in search of a living. The rest of the world carried on as though she wasn’t even there, as though her presence didn’t matter.

She didn’t very much care, after all, the less she was noticed, the better. It wasn’t like she was here for the drinks anyway. It was the company that she wanted.

It seemed to have all started when my mother died. Taking her very last breath in his arms. It was like something within him died, and at the same time a lunatic took his place.

But he was a good man. He may not have been the greatest of fathers, but he was a good man.

So it was alright that I spent most of my time lying in bed, sick from the lack of blood after he had drawn a little too much for his experiments. It was alright that I missed school and got expelled because of the constant headaches I got after he started adding electricity into his experiments. It was alright after he locked me into a small metal dog cage to ensure that I wouldn’t get any delusions of escaping.

It was all for the greater good.

He was not turning up tonight. Even though he had promised. Adrian was not surprised; all the men in her life disappointed her one way or another. She learnt that if you don’t expect anything, or better yet, expected the worst, you won’t get hurt. You would learn to harden your heart against all sorts of assaults. Albeit this man was definitely not one she trusted in the first place, she wasn’t the least thwarted.

Tossing a coin onto the bar she stood up, ignoring the look of slight curiosity that the barkeeper shot at her, before he returned to his business. He was used to that sort of characters by now, all sorts and different sights. A truly pretty girl was new, but for all he knew she had a deformed body. Either way, it was not his problem.

Broken bones.

Bruised skin.

Strained muscles.

Severed arteries.

The pelting rain felt warm against her cold skin, a strange contrast that amused her slightly. Tucking her hands into the pockets of her sweater she dipped her head lower as she slowly trudged through the darkened boulevards towards what she called home.

Home? Home was a two-room apartment with shady lights and a broken pump. Home was two buckets placed to catch water from the leaking roof and a icy cold shower. Home was a testament to how low she had dropped from what she used to be. Home was the best she could do with a depleted bank account, a permanent black marker over her reputation and a criminal record.

But tonight there was something different with home. The stench of blood wafted into her high-senses even before she turned the key in the lock. There was someone in there; either injured, dead, or dying. Somehow, she dreaded to find out whom.

It was all for a good cause.

My father is a good man.

And I’m a dreadful liar.



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to be continued...