Chapter 1 - Danger Zone

A group of young adults with superpowers team up to fight a villain from another world as well as other small villains. Azaria gets ready for a mission.

Azaria leaned against a wall, breathing heavily, a gun ready in each hand. Her best friend, Amari, slammed against the wall next to her, also carrying a gun. They peeked around either side of the wall, straining to see in the dim light.

"Coast is clear," Amari whispered. She slipped around the corner and was immediately hit in the chest. Red splattered everywhere and she dropped to the ground.

Azaria slid over to where Amari had been sitting and scanned the surrounding area. Up on a balcony was a sniper. Slowly, and taking extra care not to be seen, Azaria pointed her gun around the side, drawing on her training to picture in her head where the sniper had been. The shot went off and she heard a slight groan followed by a heavy thump. Light flickered on overhead and the warehouse around them faded out of existence. Azaria stood up and took off her helmet. All around her, figures started rising from the ground, including Amari, each bearing a distinctive red paint splatter.

"Rule number four - always look up," Azaria said with a laugh.

"I know, I know. It only takes one shot before you’re dead," Amari answered, removing her own helmet. She looked around at the damage. "Not a bad run, though," she commented. "I outlasted everyone except for you and Adamar. Normally I’m one of the first few out."

Azaria and Amari dropped off their armor in a bin that was sitting off to the side that had ‘Used’ written in white lettering across the front. “I know. My brothers must have really been off their game.”

Amari threw her hands in the air. “You couldn’t just let me savor this for another moment, could you? Instead of ‘my friend is finally improving,’ you had to go with that.”

Azaria laughed. “You know it’s true - seasoned assassins shouldn’t be beaten by someone with less training and no field experience. You’re lucky if you get one kill in.”

Amari stuck her tongue out, crossing her arms and turning away. But she couldn’t deny what her friend had said. Even though she trained with the Firlanna family, and had done so all her life, her skill level still couldn’t compare to a family that had been trained assassins for generations.

The girls grabbed water bottles from under a sign that said, “Rule #17 - Keep Yourself Hydrated” and then headed for the stairs up into the main house.

The training center they were leaving was part of an underground facility located fifty feet below the Firlanna mansion. The facility was eight levels deep, each level dedicated to a different area of training. Level One, physical training, looked like an ordinary gym, with elliptical machines and weights and a small side room the functioned as a med lab. Underneath that was Level Two, an obstacle course designed to test agility and endurance, with a track around the outside for speed training. Level Three was for weapons storage, weapons training, and hand-to-hand combat training. Level Four, where they were currently, was a holographic paintball field that was altered for each of the weekly battles involving the entire family and most weeks Amari, designed to test their skills by giving them living, thinking, unpredictable opponents to fight. Even Alerick, the eldest Firlanna, came back from his home in the city at least once a month to battle. Sometimes he even brought his wife and kids to visit. Level Five was a swimming pool. It was intended for training only, but was often used just to play around in. The tech lab, where all of the Firlanna’s high-tech, state-of-the-art, and often Adamar-original computer equipment was kept, was located on Level Six. The “closet” on Level Seven housed the extra family weapons, just in case, as well as an extensive collection of every kind of clothing imaginable. Sometimes blending in was important. The eighth and final level was a secure bunker in case the house was ever attacked.

The design of the main house hadn’t changed since it had been rebuilt in the Victorian Era. The original house had burned down and the new house probably wouldn’t be rebuilt unless it burned down again. Tradition had to be kept alive, of course. The mansion was three stories tall, had nine bedrooms - each with their own bathroom - a kitchen, dining hall, office, ballroom, and other recreational rooms. Solar panels and a high-tech well, both installed by Adamar, kept the house off the grid. Separate from the house was a parking garage with extra room for motorcycles, and a greenhouse. And Amari’s treehouse, but no one was supposed to know about hat, although everyone did anyways.

Amari and Azaria took the stairs up into the main part of the house - Azaria’s father, Augusto Firlanna, had refused to install an elevator when he had remodeled the lower levels, claiming that stairs were good for the soul.

They made their way into the kitchen on the first floor, still arguing about the paintball game. “But what about that move I pulled when Antain shot at me?” Amari argued. “I totally dodged that.”

"Dodged?" Azaria scoffed. "You sneezed, giving away your position to everyone else and almost getting yourself killed. It was luck that you ducked down to sneeze at the right moment that the paintball passed over top of you."

"Okay, well, what about when I got Amato? Hit him from twenty yards away, right in the temple."

"I will admit that was a good shot, but if Amato hadn’t been focusing on me, he would have spotted you before you could even aim," Azaria countered, opening the door into the pantry. Rule number ninety-five - always eat after training, she thought to herself. She wasn’t very hungry, but it was one of her father’s rules, and those had never led her wrong before. Before he died, her father had said them so often that she and her brothers decided to write them down and give them numbers. They got to 127 before he was gone.

Azaria came back out of the pantry carrying two cans of raviolis. She stopped to grab a couple of forks from a drawer under the counter before walking over to where Amari was standing on the other side.

Amari snatched a can and fork away, sitting down with a huff. “Oh, come off it. I did good and you know it,” she pouted.

"Don’t pout, it’s not attractive," Azaria answered, popping her can and tearing the top off.

Amari stuck her tongue out. “Would it kill you to give me a compliment?”

"Yes. Compliments show attachment. Rule number seven - don’t get attached. Attachment gets you killed. Therefore, giving you a compliment could get me killed," Azaria explained coolly.

Amari rolled her eyes. “Wow. Harsh, dude. I love you, too.” Azaria just ignored her and started in on her cold raviolis.

The argument probably could have continued on for a good hour if a pile of boys hadn’t stumbled in right at that moment. “Hey, girls, what’s for lunch?” Amato called out, walking over to them. “Ew, cold raviolis. How can you eat that stuff?”

"Very carefully," Amari answered, not looking up.

"Well, I’m going to get something halfway decent to eat." Amato made his way to the pantry and came out a moment later with a full bag of chips. "Me and Adamar are going up to his room to play Assassins Creed. Either of you lovely ladies like to join us?”

"Can’t, Tomato, sorry," Azaria answered. "I’m going out on a mission tonight. I need to go down and prepare."

"Aw, you’re no fun," Amato said. He turned to Amari, making a puppy face. "Will you come play with us?"

Amari laughed. “Of course. It’s Assassin’s Creed. There’s no way I’m turning that down.”

"Oh yeah, sure, just abandon me. Thanks, Amari. You’re a great friend."

"Good, then we’re even," Amari said, standing up. "You insulted me and now I’m abandoning you. I think it’s a fair trade." She left the kitchen with Adamar and Amato. Azaria shook her head and went the other direction, back outside and down into the cellar, where the stairs down to the bunker were located.

She went down to the tech lab on Level 6. She wasn’t nearly as good with computers as Adamar, but since he was currently otherwise occupied, she could at least make do. All she really needed was to look at some of the surveillance cameras they were already tapped into. Sitting down there for an hour, she scanned thoroughly for obvious traps. But that was about the limit of her staying still. It was time to go inspect the site in person.

She ran into Antain in the foyer. “Hey, Az. Where you off to?”

"Need to do a little scouting. Where are you off to?"

"I’m meeting some guys in town and we were going to do some cross-country running."

"Well, how about we carpool, then?" They were at the garage now. Azaria grabbed the keys to their white 2012 GTA Spano. They were a family obsessed with cars, both old and new. "I could drop you off, do my scouting, run some errands in town, and pick you back up when you’re done."

"I’d take you up on that offer if I didn’t love riding so much." He grabbed the keys to the blue and black 2012 Suzuki Boulevard C50T. "Thanks anyways."

"I think you just don’t want your friends to think that you need your baby sister to drive you around," Azaria chided.

Antain laughed. “You got it, babe. Gotta keep my pride intact.”

Since she was riding alone, Azaria traded her car keys for motorcycle keys, getting on the black Honda 1300 VTX Retro. “Well, what does your pride say about a head-to-head race?”

Antain grinned. “You’re on.”

Azaria and Antain lined up at the end of the driveway, clear brown eyes fixed determinedly on the road in front of them. It was technically only a two-lane road, with one going each direction, but they weren’t concerned. The only people who ever used that road were part of the family, and since the rest of the family was inside the mansion still, there was nothing to worry about.

Antain counted off, holding up his fingers. One…two…three! They sped off; it was pretty much a straight shot all the way to town. The rules were simple - keep to your lane and try to win. First one to pass through the city limits sign was the winner. The only catch was a sharp dog-leg over. There was a sharp turn, about six hundred feet of road, and then another sharp turn. The trick was hitting those turns at just the right speed. If you went too slowly, you fell behind. If you went too fast, you ended up on the side of the road, upside-down and burning.

Azaria took off, trying to get an early lead on her brother. She knew that he could take the corners faster than she could, so the further ahead she was, the less she’d have to make up for after the turns.

When they hit the first turn, she was ahead. Although it wasn’t as far ahead as she would have liked, at least she wasn’t behind. She hit the corners as fast as possible, her leg missing the ground by a few inches. She glanced over at Antain beside her; his leg was about the same amount off the ground. They were both cutting it close.

Antain came out of the second curve just a little bit ahead of her and she knew she had lost. She didn’t give up, but it pretty much always turned out that way, no matter who was in the race - whoever came out of the second turn first was the winner.

It was a close finish, but Azaria had predicted correctly. Both of them slowed down to “safe for city” speeds and Azaria pulled up beside him. “Good, game, bro,” she said, adding, “But you know there’s going to be a rematch, right?”

Antain smiled. “Any time, babe.” Then he laughed. “See you later, Az.”

"See you." They went their separate ways; Antain turned onto a side street while Azaria continued into town. It was about ten minutes further into the suburbs of town, and another five, ten minutes from there to the warehouse she was surveying, which was in a…sketchier part of town.

Azaria’s mission this time was a simple retrieval. There wasn’t even an assassination involved. This guy was making a drop off in a local warehouse. A couple minutes later, another person was supposed to come in and pick up the package. Azaria had calculated it and figured out the time between when the first guy walked out the door and the second guy walked in it. But even with the minimal time limit she wasn’t too concerned. This warehouse was often picked for these kinds of drops specifically because it had no security. Neither party had any risk of being caught by the other. The only problem was exactly what Azaria was doing now.

Of course, it could be a trap. Rule # 96 - Always think that everything is a trap. It was probably one of the most important rules. And it had kept her alive more than once. But she was really hoping this one wouldn’t be a trap. It was always easier when things went smoothly. It seemed that, for this part of the mission at least, she didn’t have to worry about traps. But she checked the large room over twice just to be sure and found nothing out of the ordinary.

Before going home she stopped at a bakery to grab a few mini cakes for her, Amari, Adamar, and Amato. She was originally just going to get them for Amari and herself, but Amari was probably still with the other two, and if she just bought her a cake, they would gripe and fuss and complain and Azaria would never hear the end of it. It was worth more just to buy the extra cakes.

"I’m back and I come bearing gifts!" She called, throwing open Adamar’s door so that it slammed against the wall.

"Ah!" Amari yelped and almost fell off the couch. "You are so lucky I wasn’t playing just then. If I had been, I would be a lot angrier at you."

"Yeah, sure, whatever." Azaria tossed a little white box to her friend, saying, "To you, my love."

Amari laughed as she caught it. When the bakery had first opened, it was Valentine’s Day. They had a huge ad in their window advertising their “Love Cakes,” which were small white cakes with white frosting and fresh strawberries on top. Of course, when Amari and Azaria passed by it while walking around town, Amari made a snarky comment about how Azaria had to “prove” that she loved her by buying her one of those cakes. Azaria had known it was a joke, but she went in and bought the cake anyways. Now any time either of them passed the shop, it was a moral imperative to buy the other a cake.

"Thanks. Love you, too, sis," Amato said, eyes still glued to the screen.

"Don’t worry, I got some for you boys, too." She tossed over two more white boxes.

Adamar caught them both because Amato was still fighting. “Oo, cool, two for me.”

Amato immediately paused the game. “Mine!” He called, snatching one away.

Azaria laughed. “Well, I’ll leave you two to fight over those cakes. One is triple chocolate and the other is a turtle cheesecake. Good luck.” She saluted and turned to walk out the door.

"Thanks, Az!" She heard the three of them chorus behind her.

She went up to her room. The last step before night was for her to go into her room and pick out what weapons she wanted to take with her. She opened the clear plastic case over a red button and pushed it. The entire room transformed. All the panels on her wall flipped around individually, turning her room into a mini armory. There were long range weapons on one wall, medium to short range guns

on another wall, non-gun weapons on another wall like knives and swords, and then other miscellaneous weapons like grenades on the last wall.

While she looked at the weapons around her, deciding what she wanted to take, she changed into her stealth outfit. Much as she liked the neon green tank top and jean shorts that she was wearing, they weren’t exactly appropriate for sneaking around. Also, her mission outfit had more places to hide weapons. Not like she needed them. She’d already had to put away five knives that she had hidden on her person just to change clothes.

The outfit she wore for missions was a pair of black shorts, a black tank top, and black military-style combat boots. She also had a double-gun holster that went around her thighs so that she could put on gun on either side of her, and a belt for whatever else she needed, mostly extra ammo.

Now that she had places to put the weapons, she put her long brown hair back in a ponytail and started walking around the room, picking them out. It wasn’t an assassination, so she didn’t need to bring too many long-range weapons, but she just felt empty without a sniper rifle, so she strapped an M40 to her back and moved on. In the smaller-guns section, she immediately reached for her dual Heckler and Koch USP Match pistols and put them in her thigh holsters. They were probably her favorite weapons and they had saved her life a lot in the past. Then she grabbed a little Walther P99, slipped it into a pouch at her waist, grabbed extra ammo for everything, snapped it to her belt, and moved on.

She always had knives everywhere, on a job or off. She put five small throwing knives on the belt at her waist and a longer one in a sheath between her breasts. Next to the throwing knives at her waist was a Saxe knife. She slipped a Bowie nine and a half inch blade in her right boot, on the outside of her leg where she could reach it easily. Opposite of that, on the outside of her left leg, was a Chilean Corvo dagger. Feeling properly weaponed-up, she put on the finishing touches of her outfit, a pair of black fingerless gloves and a black mask across the bottom portion of her face, leaving only her eyes.