The Beginning

Chapter 2

Jones toyed with the gun. It had been a while since he had held one, and it was a little off, the weight was wrong. His hands quickly grew greasy from the dirt and grime on it.  Uhhh! Jones though, Does anyone else ever clean their gun? He gripped the gun, ripping it apart as if he was possessed, and a small chip fell out.

Jones laughed, both offended and surprised that Sadik knew him so well. He continued onto his college for orientation.

*time skip*

    Sadik left the courtroom and got into a dark yellow taxi that he had called.
    "Where to, aru?" the taxi driver asked with a thick Chinese accent.
    "Northwest College."

    "Oh, a young man just went there a few minutes ago," he handed Sadik a broken down gun. "he said to give this to you." Sadik took the gun in his hand and noticed a note taped to it. 'You are good Sadik, but I am better'.

plastered to it crudely was a small tracking chip. Sadik smiled, he hasn't lost his touch or his humor.... lucky. Once he arrived at the college he discarded the note, gun and chip. It was of no use to him, he knew that the fingerprints had been wiped, partly out of skill, but mostly for Jones' uncanny obsession with a clean gun. He laughed silently to himself as he thought about how Jones must have tore the gun apart cleaning it. He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice the witty smirk the taxi driver gave him before he drove off.

*time skip*

Jones started with his college classes. He choose culinary arts as his major, deciding that it would be useful to learn how to cook. Well, maybe it would... he just didn't feel like doing very much.

He thought about law, but when he saw the books he had to read, he instantly decided against it. He liked cooking class... kind of, it was okay, but mostly he was just excited to be out of prison. After class, which was mostly notes over the basic cooking utensils, he went to a little bar near the college.

    It was nicer than most he had seen, and it was late, so it was packed. Easier to disappear, he thought to himself. He squeezed onto a stool and a guy with crazy blond hair and piercing green eyes leaned against the bar. "What would like today?"

    "Got anything German?" Jones asked, sighing. Though he and Ludwig didn't talk much, he always prefered his beer taste to vodka or wine, and they had nothing like that in prison, so he had a hankering for it.

    The guy smiled, "we do," he went, grabbed a glass and filled it, "here." He placed it in front of him and left. He instantly struck Jones as odd. His cadence, though cheerful, was undone by his eyes, which were slightly clouded, as if hiding something.

Then again, it was a bar, so who doesn't have something to hide? He went on, keeping to himself, knowing that he would argue with anyone over anything, and a bar fight would most likely land him back in prison. He heard a whistle and thunk, again and again. He could not perceive the place from which the sound was coming from, and could barely hear it over the large, laughing crowd.

Finally he saw that the boy who had served him earlier, was throwing darts at a board. Jones watched him curiously. He was extremely good, not that he could hit the center. Jones saw that he would squint and look, then miss, even though his arm was good. It was as if he couldn't aim properly. Jones set his beer down, and walked over to him.

    He picked up a dart and threw it casually at the board. It hit the dead center of course, and the boy turned and looked at him, "Ah! The German drinker. Need a refill?"

    "No, just was curious if I could help you aim better."
    "Well, that's kind of you, but I'd rather challenge you."
    "It's your loss."
    "How much are you willing to lose?"
    "$20."

    "Boring. let's make things interesting. Make it $50, one dart, winner takes all. They have to hit their target, and you go first."

    "2 German beers on the house and we've got a deal."

   He smiled and nodded. Jones squared himself up with the dart board, stepping a bit farther away than where the boy had been earlier, and threw the dart, which landed in the dead center of the tiniest dot on the target.

Jones looked at him, "your move." He stepped back a few more steps than Jones and threw his dart with a perfect swing, but bad aim and it just barely missed the center. Jones laughed, "looks like I win."

    "Not exactly, the deal was you have to hit your target," He walked to the board and motioned for Jones to follow, "see?" At the end of his dart lay pinned the wing of a fly. "Since we both hit our targets would you like to go again, this time to pin fly wings?" His  voice was laced with a soft, but dangerous edge.

Jones knew he couldn't do it and it angered him, but it also gave him a different feeling about him, one he had never had before for someone so annoyingly better than him.

    "I'm afraid I've been beat." Jones said, annoyed.

    "KIRKLAND! Get over here!" a man yelled. Kirkland turned to Jones, who was offended by the man's hateful words toward him. But he touched his right hand, which in it he held a small handgun, which he must have drawn again without thinking. He put it away, shaking.

"I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself you know," Kirkland held up his wallet and took $50 from it, "you still owe me a beer." He smiled and skipped off. Jones stood there in amazement and anger, holding his wallet.

He took my wallet and beat me at darts. Who is this guy? He shook his head in amazement and finished his beer, stealing glances back at the fascinating boy.

————————————————————————I wonder who that taxi driver was? Does he work with Jones or is he just a witty driver ;) Also, it looks like Jones found a very talented  friend. I hope I made up for the shorter first chapter that we wrote last week. I felt that it was about time for England to make himself known in this book, he is supposed to be a MC.

Names you need to know:
Jones- America
Kirk/ Kirkland- England
Sadik- Turkey
Kiku- Japan
Ludwig- Germany

Please, leave a comment, we would love to hear what you guys think

See you next week :)