Chapter 8

After I thanked the guys in desert camo dropping me off at the helipad conviently located about 3 miles north of my hideout, Richie pulled up in some kind of segway(or however you spell it) looking thing. I eyed it, and he looked at me with a sly smile. "I've just always wanted to ride wunna these, ya know?" He said. Richie is a guy who's about 5''6', very thinly built, with a mop of dirty blonde, shoulder length hair like a curtain around his head. If you look closely, or so I've been told by his most recent ex-girlfriend, he's got a tiny stubble on his chin. I'm talking like, you might be able to see it if you hold his chin under a microscope, maybe. He's always wearing a plain T-Shirt under a short sleeved plaid jacket, loose and unbottoned. If, you're looking for a reference, picture Kurt Cobain, on really short and with bad singing skills. I'm 5''8', and I'm more muscularly built than Jonah, too. I've got short, light brown hair.If I'm not in shrunken army fatigues, then I'll usually be wearing a hoodie and T-Shirt, with some ripped jeans and tennis shoes. "Up for some sparring?" I asked. Instead of speaking, he replied with a roundhouse kick I blocked with my forearm. I brought up my knee to, well, knee him, but he did a back handspring, then charged at me with his shoulder. He knocked me onto my back, but I rolled, turned, and ran towards the wall. He gave chase. As I neared the wall, I ran up it two steps the flung my left leg out in a spinning kick. He did some kind of crazy how-low-can-you-go back bend, so my leg flew over his head. "That all you got?" He taunted. "You wish" I called. As we continued our fight for another few minutes, a sleek black car pulled up beside us. As the passenger got out, I said, "what's up, boss?" "Some sparring, I see." Blade, who's name I had figured out, said. "I bet we could whoop you!" Richie challenged. We charged, but Blade caught Richie's fist with his left hand, flipped him, and did the same for me in his right. "Oh, you kids," he sighed with a shake of his head.

Chapter 7

Okay. He's down. I reach for my headset that isn't there. Right. Oh, well. I'm on my own. Good news, though, they didn't notice the 6 and a half inch knife hidden in my boot. As I near the door, I hear gibberish coming through. Sounds middle Eastern. S**t, now I gotta deal with some kind of clones AND terrorists. As I peek through the door, I see there are 2 guys. One's holding a Desert Eagle standard issue military sidearm, while the other is resting his elbow on an AK-47 Assault Rifle. Now, any normal 12 year old would be shaking is his converse sneakers, but not me. Not Jonah Lagunaz, a kid who's already fluent in English, French, and German. Not a kid who's already certified to be a United States Special Forces Unit as well as a British S.A.S. Officer. So, I did what any kid like me would do. I threw my voice to outside their door in English, "Soldiers! Storm the house on 3! 1! 2! 3!" They oth turned to face the door, so I rushed forward, grabbed the shoulder stock of the AK-47, clubbed one guy in the head, and unleashed a burst of fire on the other guy. Aha! THere's my headset, on the dresser. I scan for a signal, detect a U.S. military outpost a few miles out, and call for some assistance. A few minutes later, I'm sure the guys who pulled up in a military chopper weren't expecting a 12 year old with a gun slung over his shoulder. Ha.

Chapter 6.1-12 Years old

Okay. Let's make a list.
1. I'm in a dark basement/dungeon
2.My head is throbbing, possibly bleeding.
3.I... Ah, nevermind!
Basically, I'm f**ked. Or am I? I crawl to the staircase that I was tossed down into, and find a hard stick. The staircase has an open bottom, so, when I hear footsteps, I grab the stick, get under the stairs, and, as they say in England, stapped the crap out of the assailant's ankles. More Later

Chapter 5-Ten Years Earlier

All right. So, If he went down this corridor, the only escape would be on the southeast entrance. I take a shortcut and pick up the nearset weapon I see, a pistol. I weigh it in my hand, then adjust the sights as i jog forward. When I finish, I slide it in my belt, and call for backup. "Hey, Rich?" I ask over the headset I'm wearing. "Yeah?" He responds. "Come to the big bush on the south side of the training place. Bring your knock-out dart sniper rifle." I finish as I jump off a railing, swing across a hanging sign, and land in a roll behind the thug. He takes off, but only after he throws a few words my direction. Boy, am I glad I'm wearing my sweat pants, as well as a zip-up hoodie over my T-shirt. I throw the hoodie in a nearby tree and continue to vhase him.

Chapter 4- Ten Years Later

Duck! Juke! Back handspring! I do a quick jab to one thug's chest and a sweep kick to another's calf. I smirk as they get up. "Go ahead. See if I care." I say as they trip over themselves. Then, of course, I take out my shotgun. I think you know what happens next, so I'll leave the bloodbath out of this. "Another set of clones down, cap." I say to my captain. "Good" He responds. "Head back to base. But give the abandoned factory over to your north a look first." He finishes. I send him a 10-4 signal. "Hey, Rich?" I ask my childhood friend. "Yeah?" He questioned. "Get me my sub-machine gun." I order. "That all?" He asks. "No. Get my sunlasses."

Chapter 3.5

Oh well. There's nothing left to do. He's dead. I have to chase . I think I saw him take a left. Here I go!

Chapter 3

I backed away slowly, staring at the dead guy's face. I knew who he was of course. I saw him every week. He ran the training and begginer bounty stuff. He wasn't my friend or anything, but, still. I would see it happen every night when I slept. The trainer stepped in front of the thug with the knife, and the thug just pushed it into his chest. The trainer slumped down, and the thug did a sort of half-shrug as he took off down the hall. I had to make a choice. Would I follow him, or see what I could do for the trainer? *Note from Author* The choice is yours. Comment your answer. But hurry, before it's too late.