LadyShi
“Sir, we’ve found them. Yes Sir, they are exactly where we were informed that they would be. Preparing to move in now, with your permission? Of course. ”
Signalling to her hiding comrades, she kept her crouched possession, using one of the many parked cars lining the street, a plain, dark blue model, a classic mini, as cover. Lifting her knee-length skirt up slightly, she pulled out a small, black plastic rectangular box from where it had been hidden, in the top of her suspenders. Leaving the M1911 Colt where it was, strapped around her thigh, she quickly opened the box, gently taking out the contense.
Looking upwards, determined Hazel eyes became Prussian blue, as she slid the contact lenses into place, carefully making sure not to drop them onto the open M23 SWS box lying at her feet. Leaning down once again, she picked up her Remington 700, gaze flickering to the other parked cars and near-by street corners, where she knew her comrades were hidden, awaiting the signal.
Pushing her crimson-dyed bangs behind her ears with a small huff of annoyance, straight, shining, shoulder-length platinum-blond hair pulled back into a tight, straight pony tail, so as to not get in her way at a most inappropriate moment, she shifted, moving her weight from one boot-clad foot to another.
She wore typical British Army regulation boots, the only variation being the Union-Jack coloured laces tightly securing them to her white-tight encased legs. A tutu-style, petty-coated ruffled black and crimson skirt came down to her knees, making her seem her age- seventeen, or younger, unlike the steely glint in her eyes that suggested experience far beyond her years, as so many eyes of youngsters around the world, not just in England, now held.
The punk-style, sleeveless dark blue and red bondage top complemented the look she was going for, the logo NF standing out clearly on the left breast of her top, the pattern filling these letters, of course, being the Union Jack. National Front. The British National Parties original name, dating all the way back to the First World War. Funny, really, how with so much change in the world since then, that it was still worn with such pride amongst so many.
Elbow-length black fingerless gloves encased her hands and forearms. She had learnt early on that the union-jack coloured gloves that she preferred couldn’t survive the harsh treatment given to them upon such occasions, the bloodstains and gunpowder never quite washing out fully. The black, however, hid the stains quite well, she had found, as well as concealing the slight silver flick-knife she had taken to hiding within them a great deal better than the red, white and blue ever had.
A simple black dog collar finished off her outfit, a small union Jack hanging from it in place of a nametag, the initials L.T engraved on the back. By choosing to wear such cloths, the majority of their targets seemed to dismiss her as another loud-mouthed, anti-war protester; all mouth and no action. Many of these youngsters had, to begin with, flocked to London to protest peacefully. But what use was that in a war?
She sneered. Such people she detested. She hated being mistaken for one of them; she loathed it even more every time it happened. But it was necessary. Better to have them underestimate her, to overlook her, to allow her-and thereby her comrades, in close, so that they could get their mission done all the sooner.
“Let’s move, people!”
Tight, black leather encased hands trembled, the silver D-ring and small, usually silent chains covering the fingerless gloves tinkling as milky-pale fingers clutched tightly at the photograph, held tightly but with so much care in slender, long fingered hands, black-painted nails contrasting startlingly with the almost unhealthy pallor of his skin.
The depths of his wide violet-eyes swirled with turmoil and regret, as they had done for well over a year now. He still didn’t know if he had made the right decision-maybe he never would.
One year, six months earlier
Pale hands nervously played with straight, waist-length Inky blue-black hair. His 6ft 3” slender-waisted, broad-shouldered frame seemed so much smaller as he sat hunched-over in the worn booth, awaiting their arrival.
Straight white teeth bit at a full lower lip, the coil of nervousness that had settled in his stomach months earlier when he had finally come to a decision within his own mind, intensifying, expanding, near-on consuming him at the mere thought of sharing his decision.
“Ink honey! It’s wonderful to see you again!”
Violet eyes shot upwards as he heard the voice, a small, nervous smile settling on his lips as he stood up to accept the hug from the white-uniformed woman, a small, reminiscing smile replacing the previous one of worry as she hugged him just as tightly as he remembered. At least some things never changed.
“Hey mum. You’re looking…well” He greeted her, waiting for her to sit opposite before retaking his own seat in the dingy, grimy little seaside café.
She laughed. It was a clear, refreshing sound. “You, my dear, sweet little boy, are still as bad a liar as ever.” She smiled down at him. Deep purple circled were imprinted under her once-sparkling hazel eyes, her well-kept inky hair pinned back haphazardly, unkept, so much unlike her eldest childs' own shining locks. “I look like s**t.”
“Of course you don’t, mum! You look very well, considering…” He trailed off, not comfortable with approaching that subject in the slightest. He hadn’t wanted her to give up her nice, safe job at the hospital to become a field nurse. He had spent many a night trying to convince her, before he had left for university. Many a night since with tears trailing down his cheeks, terrified that he would never see her, or his father again.
She smiled wearily. “No need to be so shy, hun. How has your sister been?”
“Leak? Fine I guess. Just as enthusiastic as ever when she receives a letter from Father.” He eyes hardened slightly, tone taking a bitter edge. The two of them-Father and son, had never quite seen eye to eye. One, a soldier, one, a complete pacifist. He would never forgive the man for putting such ideas of war and glory, for fighting for ‘King and country’ and all that rot into his baby sisters head. “She’s staying in college as you wanted, but I doubt she’ll actually finish unless…”
“Unless her father insists that she does?” Ink’s mother finished for him gently, a sad smile gracing her lips at her eldest childs' obvious displeasure. She was no more happy than he was, that her only daughter had seemed to take such a, a fanatical interest in her husbands chosen profession. But she would not stop her. After all, she herself had chosen to join the war effort, had she not? It would seem too hypocritical to deny her daughter the same chance once she came of age.
“Now, that wasn’t why you wanted to talk to me before my leave finished, now was it, sweetie?”
He fidgeted. “No…I…” He looked frustrated. Taking a deep breath, he decided to just go for it. “Mum, when I finish my degree this fall, I don’t want to join the war effort.”
He ducked his head, violet eyes squeezed shut, refusing to meet her gaze.
Hazel eyes shone with pride, as a tanned, calloused hand reached out, gripping his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. “I’m proud of you.”
Present
He let out a small, sad huff, as he thought back to the telephone conversation he had had mere weeks later with his father.
One year, three months earlier
“Hey Ink—there’s someone on the phone for you!” his roommate called out, pulling the violet-eyed boy away from his studies.
“Who is it, Mitch? You know I’ve got finals coming up” He asked, tone soft, showing no real irritation.
“Hello? Oh, Father. How is it—Oh. She told you…..No, I do not…I was considering becoming a-…Of course not! How could you?...No. No! You keep her out of--….But, why? Just because--…I-I…I’ve got to go now—no, no…no! Bye—Goodbye!....No!” He slammed the phone down, tears welling in his eyes.
He should have expected this reaction from his father. What else would he have had to say to his coward of a son, too afraid, too pathetic to even join the war effort as a damned mechanic or inventor.
Present
Ever since then, the tears just wouldn’t, couldn’t fall. That had been the last time the two of them had spoken. The last call that his father had placed with anyone. Not even his little sister had gotten one after that last, angry, bitter call he had received-a fact that Leak would never forgive him for.
Their father had been killed in battle, on foreign soil, protecting foreigners. Their mother, less than a week later, before news of her husbands death could reach her, had been captured and taken as a prisoner of war. Their had been no word from her since.
She hadn’t taken it well. He had, of course, returned, degree in one hand, the letter about their fathers’ death and mothers capture in the other. She had resented it, resented him at first. Why did he get to be the one to find out first? Why did he get the last call from her Daddy, the last visit from mother? Why did he get to be the one who got everything?
He had watched, helplessly, as her resentment and anger changed, no longer targeting him. Their previous relationship returning, in a sense. She was still his annoying little sister, one whom he would do anything to protect and shield from the world. However, now she listened to him even less than she ever had. Now, she had a new purpose.
Why had her father died for foreigners? What had they ever done for him, for them? And so, she had signed up-to the BNP. He had tried, for days, to dissuade her, all to no avail. He didn’t want his little sister exposed to such people-she was still in the last months of her fifteenth year. She was a teenager, damnit! She should be worrying about boys and hair and makeup and passing her exams, not joining a racist, fanatic white-supremacy faction, learning about guns and killing and war. Not at her age.
She hadn’t listened. She never did, not anymore.
“It doesn’t matter…You’re still my baby sister, Leak. And I will protect you-no matter what.
((ah, I think I was meant to post next o-o if not please tell me & I'll remove it >.< I apologise if it's uber-shite xD
edit: o-o man that was long...I will not normally be that bad, I promise xD))
