Authors Note: Due to something pointed out by Rizza, I have changed the name so people don’t misinterpret the title. I plan on slowly introducing the names of his family members over time, not all at once, due to the number of them. I will probably release a character page that will be updated over time, since I am planning on having two dozen misfits lol. I have decided to post the first few chapters before doing anything with a proof reader, as since I am still in the early stages of writing I may change from what I had planned, so the proof reader would do a bunch of unnecessary work.
The Prologue was meant to be more spaced out... sorry. I will try to change that.
Final note- I am new to writing, so could you please post in the comments what you think of the length, if I have done the poll wrong Should it be shorter, longer, or is this ok?
Thanks for reading!
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After a small amount of time the pain is gone. But OW. That hurt. Normally I am quite resistant to pain, so that caught me off guard... and it really hurt.
Character reset is now complete.
You can call up your status at any time by saying status, or thinking it.
You can also hide various things like profession and skills. But stats will always be shown. Please enjoy your adventure. You will now receive Notices.
I think about this for a while... strange creatures, weird blue boxes... now I see two possibilities:
1. I have gone insane. Now, quite a few people have called me insane before, so I feel I am probably used to being insane and it can’t be that bad
2. The world suddenly changed into some weird, survival-of-the-fittest death game... again, not too bad. In the modern world skills like I and my family practice are seen as unneeded or merely for “sports”. But in a new world order, maybe, no, certainly those skills will be needed.
Conclusion: Whatever happened, it’s probably not too bad.
“Good.” I am satisfied by my flawless logic.
My self-congratulation is disturbed by the sound of howling, coming from our home...
They should be able to handle it, right?
Even as I think that, I am running back to the others.
I jump over a small stream and weave through trees, until I reach a clearing filled with the stench of flesh and burned wood. In the centre is a mansion, still in flames, the home I paid for when I cut ties with society. In a pile to one side are bodies, and gathered around a pile of burning furniture are... my family. All looking a bit odd and cooking giant wolf meat in the flames.
I hear multiple cries of “Boss” and “Master”, and I sigh in relief. One figure separates from the group, and runs towards me. He is a large, white man, who looks like a brick wall, but his face is nowhere near as scary. He is bald, and constantly looks apologetic, because he so often breaks things he just constantly apologises for it.
“Hey Dozer, what’s up? Why do you look so.... young?”
Dozer is 35 years old, but at the moment looks around 20.
“I could say the same thing about you, Boss” Dozer has the voice of a librarian. Quiet, soft, but able to command a whole group of teens the Shush... or a group of soldiers to “Put more effort into it, worms!” He had been a drill sergeant for the army, one of the best, but was discharged from the army when he refused to allow some rich bastard to pass, just because he was related to a General. That led to him being dishonourably discharged from the military, and left with nowhere to go, as in any other job he was far too scary, and accident prone.
He was actually the first I invited. We were both discarded by society, and our primary skills were altogether the more violent kind.
He had been left with a hate of authority figures, or at least those who paid there way in with money, and not skill. Together we formed a family, and haven’t looked back since. None of our 25 members have ever left the group. Not that we don’t allow them, they simply don’t want to. All have found a place to belong, a new family, and a new name. Dozer was originally called Drill Sergeant Ethan Mathews, but we are all called by nicknames, sort of representative of a new persona, free of our past.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
The only exception was Emma Jacobs. She had wanted me to call her Emma for some reason. The rest called her Frost, as did I when we were training. It was partly because she was Ice cold to those not in our family, partly sarcasm about how angry she could get, and partly (and SECRETLY I might add) because she had a child like fascination and love of snow... which was remarkably adorable.
“Really?” I walked over to the lake, which was fed by one river and led to a nice waterfall, and eventually the North Sea. He was right. We all looked younger; just it wasn’t as noticeable for me as I was only 24 anyway... or was.
Another figure ran over. An intimidating Japanese woman, named Razor. She was the second member of our family to join. Named Hiramatsu Saki, It meant Blossom. It didn’t really suit her. Although she was beautiful, she wasn’t meant for the life of a company’s princess. She was the daughter of the companies Director, but loathed those who toadied up to her because of her position. She was taught the way of the sword by her Grandfather, and he viewed her as a genius. When she was 16, he died, so she travelled the world for 4 years, till being called back by her Father.
She had been training in all sorts of bladed weapons, and fighting gangs on the streets of many cities, from New York to Tokyo. In those 4 years, we had met a few times, and had grown to respect each other’s skill. And she had gained multiple scars, both mental and physical, including a prominent one from above her left eye to the left end of her mouth.
Upon returning home, her Father had wanted to marry her off to some son of some company, at which she promptly left and joined me.
She was tall, 6’2”, and had... average assets. I do not want to go any further than that, as I feel Emma will hit me...
I, Razor, Frost and Dozer made up the 4 instructors of our family. Razor taught weapons used in hand to hand combat, Dozer taught about the use of guns and vehicles, as well as tactics, and Frost taught hand to hand combat with her fists and feet... and elbows and knees... and fingers... and sometimes forehead. Basically any part of the body that was even REMOTELY dangerous to another person. And my role... well, besides being their leader, I taught... meditation I guess. It was basically a way to clear your mind, reach self-enlightenment and become sat one within yourself. That might not seem important, but for our family of broken children, it was imperative.
Everyone learned everything, and we four prided ourselves on being able to teach anyone to a high standard.
People may join unable to do anything with a sword than get ‘em with the pointy end, but left able to have a fair fight against some of the top 100 experts in the world... or would of, had they ever felt like leaving.
We tried to make our own style of martial arts, an all-encompassing style of fighting. All of them came up with the name- “God’s Way”, as it was supposed to allow one to be omnipotent in battle. As a Joke, we called ourselves Broken Angels, and the name just stuck.
Some called me “Boss”, as I was the one who funded our lifestyle, mainly with my inheritance and... Other funds. And after a while, with the stock market, which I found predictable and easy to manipulate. Others called me “Master”, because I was a teacher, but they never called the other 3 that. And all, usually behind my back, called me “Omet”. Apparently it meant “my light” in Hebrew or something. Weird. There were a few others, who taught their respective specialities, like mounted fighting, assassination, among other things. But we were the main few.
“You have GOT to try this Hellhound meat! IT’S GREAT!!” Razor was just as food obsessed as me.
Naturally I acted like a leader should, and raced as fast as I could to the fire, and was immediately showered with dripping, roasted meat on a stick... Heaven.
“Now” I eventually got around to saying, fighting back the urge to drool at the smell of cooking meat.
“Any idea what’s going on?”
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I am going to make it at least twice as long anyway, if anymore than that is better please tell me!