Fan Fiction ❯ Corperate Takeover ❯ Chapter 1

Chapter One

Damn, I was nervous. Any one of them could be out there, slinking around in the inky night. I know; I've been one of those types of people myself; the ones who move silently with the night.

Again, I shifted nervously from foot to foot; checking my Rolex, which kept stubbornly told me it had only been two minutes since I last checked.

Trying to calm my nerves, I leaned up against a lit street lamp and tried to look cool, like I knew what I was doing. The best kind of target is one the shows fear-that's what my mentor taught me.

Ignoring my mentor's advice, I pushed myself away from the lamp post and started pacing underneath it, my eyes jerking pack and forth, probing each shadow for the tell tale etching of a human for that would show me where they were hiding.

I checked my watch one last time-12:09 am-and decided to get the hell out of there. I pushed a stray lock of midnight black hair out of my eyes, and turned towards the side street I had used to get here, but before I could take another step, I saw them. They stood there, dressed in the same black outfit as I was. As they strode towards me, their feet made no sound against the pavement. Their fluid grace reminded me of a panther-the cat of the night-stalking its prey before it pounces.

Even to a novice, it would have been obvious who the leader of the pack was, standing tall and strong, slightly in the front of the others. He had ear-length hair, its jet-black mass shone in the moonlight. He had a lean, muscular frame without an ounce of fat on him. He looked to be about twenty-three. It was his stare that was the most disturbing, though. His stare was hard and cold and unforgiving. Untouchable.

I stared back, and felt the nervousness flee from my body. All the training that had been ingrained into me from childhood-which had been forgotten during the restless moments before their arrival-came flooding back to me and I stood motionless, ready for anything.

We stood this way for long minutes, staring each other down and measuring each other up in the same breath.

Finally, I broke the silence.

"You're late," I told him matter-of-factly, no trace of emotion in my voice.

He just smiled, his eyes glittering in the light of the street lamp.

"It's been a long time," he said side stepping my statement completely. "If we were counting I would say you're the one that's late. You're late by a couple of years, in fact. Surely a couple of minutes can't hurt you."

Without missing a beat, I replied, "Well, surely, but like you said who's counting?"

I flashed my most daring and devil-may-care smile, before we fell back into silence again.

Then, suddenly, he smiled and dropped the `tough-guy' mask.

I smiled, too. This time it was genuine.

"Welcome home, Sis," he said.

"Good to see you, brother."