The Beginning Ch. 01

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Meet Chris.
1.3k words
4.43
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12

Part 2 of the 17 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 09/19/2016
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Chapter 1- Foreboding

7:30 a.m.
19th November, 2012
Home (#34 Ray Drive, 52nd and 4th, New York)

"Good evening, fair lady," I said, placing my glass on the table in front of her, my other hand holding onto the back of her chair as I leaned in over her shoulder, "May I have this dance?"

"Why, certainly!" she replied, rising as I pulled her chair back, taking the hand I offered her.

Smiling, I led her onto the dance floor, spinning her around and showing the audience my prize for the night. I pulled her close, one hand resting on her hip as we swayed to the music, her white gown contrasting sharply with my sleek black tux. I stared into her blue eyes as we moved, noticing the way they complimented her scarlet hair. My eyes traced her small round nose down to a pair of lush red lips, framed by softly rounded cheekbones and an elegant, feminine jaw. She ran her free hand over my chest, before resting it on my shoulder, leaning in close to whisper in my ear.

"You dance quite well," she said, "for a spy."

"A spy?" I whispered back, surprise coloring my voice, "Whatever could you mean?"

"I threw this ball together, you know?" she answered, "And I made it a point to memorize each and every face on the guest list. Yours however, I've never seen before. Yet, you managed to make it past all my security, while carrying a Glock .37 revolver to boot. You blend in perfectly with the rest of the crowd, arrogant swagger and all, which means that you knew exactly what sort of event you were crashing. The whole time we've been dancing, you've been inching us closer to the passageway hidden behind a particular painting, while using me to hide your face from those security cameras. That of course, implies that you know the layout of this place pretty well, and have security schematics too. Put that all together, and there's only one logical conclusion I could arrive at. You're a spy."

"I must admit," I said, chuckling softly, "you do have impressive deductive skills for one so elegant."

"What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, "A woman can't be both beautiful and smart?"

"Not if a spy can't dance well," I replied, smiling.

"Touché," she said, with a tinkling laugh.

We danced in silence for a while, basking in each other's presence, the rest of the world slowly fading away.

"I must ask," I whispered after a while, as we steadily inched closer to the painting of a frog dressed as a ballerina, "does the carpet match the drapes?"

"Why don't you come find out?" she replied, her eyes hooded with lust.

"It would be my pleasure," I said, smirking as I leaned in to kiss her.

"Not so fast, cowboy," she said, placing a hand on my chest to stop me, "Let's head somewhere more private. Meet me in my room in ten minutes. It's Room numberbuzz buzz buzz..."

"I'm sorry?" I said, taken aback as she started buzzing, "What was that?"

Suddenly, the whole room started buzzing in chorus, the sound steadily growing louder.

"Chris!" a voice called, "Wake up! You're going to be late for school!"

Groaning, I cracked an eye open, to find myself back in my room at home, my alarm clock buzzing away next to me.

"Right when things were getting good," I murmured, hitting the snooze button and draping an arm over my eyes.

"What was that?" my mother yelled from downstairs, probably from the kitchen if the aromas wafting around were anything to go by.

"Nothing!" I yelled back, sitting up and looking around my room.

It was a regular seventeen-year-old's room, with posters of bands and superheroes dotting the wall, a laptop resting on a computer table off in the corner, and a guitar in its case leaning against the wall opposite that. All my walls were painted in shades of blue, mimicking the effect of sunlight when viewed from under the water. Rolling out of bed, I padded over to my wardrobe, and ruffled around, wondering what clothes to wear. Finding what I wanted, I shuffled off to the bathroom down the hall to take care of business and shower, before getting dressed and making my way downstairs.

"Morning!" I called, as I entered the dining room.

"Morning!" Dad replied, peeking over his newspaper at me and shooting me a smile, before going back to reading about last night's football game.

"Good morning Chris!" Mum called out, as she bustled into the room through the other door that led to our kitchen, with three plates laden with sandwiches, "Did you sleep well?"

"Sure did," I said, sitting at the rectangular table, and grabbing one off the plate she placed in front of me.

Dad put away his newspaper, and all three of us settled into a comfortable silence as we ate and thought about the day ahead of us.

Dad was the Founder/C.E.O. of "Mike and Peters Co.", one of the largest construction companies in New York. His schedule tended to keep him away most of the time, so any day he could join mum and me for breakfast was a day we looked forward to. Mum on the other hand was a jewelry designer who ran a small boutique on the Lower East Side, selling clothes, costume jewelry, and other accessories and knick-knacks.

"So Chris," Dad asked, "any thoughts on what you're going to take up after you graduate?"

"Not really," I replied, as I finished my sandwich, "I'm still trying to figure out what I really want from life."

"Whatever you decide to do," he said, "just know that we'll always be proud of you."

"I know," I replied, smiling.

We sat in silence again, just enjoying that moment of father-son bonding.

Just then, we heard the sound of the front door opening, followed by the voices of Rand and Mathias, my closest friends. The three of us had practically grown up together, and were near inseparable. And as usual, the two of them were arguing over something.

"I'm telling you," Mathias protested, "Excaliburwas real."

"Sure it was," Rand replied in a bored voice, "I never disagreed with that. All I'm saying, is that if it truly was stuck in a stone for all those years, it would have rusted away and broken into shards the second someone tried to pull it out!"

"No it wouldn't!" Mathias argued, "It was a divine sword, protected by God's power against the ravages of time and the elements."

"This is pointless, Mat," Rand said with a sigh as they walked into our dining room, "You're just going to argue, no matter what I say."

"True!" Mathias replied with a smirk, "But it's fun to see you exasperated."

"Good morning, boys!" Mum said, turning around in her chair to look at them, "Would you care for some sandwiches?"

"Morning Mrs. Lia," Rand replied, "Morning Mr Mike! Thank you, but we just ate."

"Suit yourselves," She said, smiling at them before turning back around.

"Ready to roll?" Mathias asked, looking at me.

"Yup!" I replied, standing up, "Let's go."

"Have fun, boys!" Dad called, as we walked out.

"We will!" I replied, waving over my shoulder as we left the house.

We walked the three blocks to school chatting noisily, excited about graduating a few weeks down the line. As we walked past the gates into the schoolyard, I was gripped by a sudden yet strong sense of foreboding. I stopped and looked around frantically, but nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary.

"What's up?" Rand asked, noticing that I'd stopped, "You okay?"

"Yeah," I murmured, shrugging it off and joining them, "I just felt weird for a second."

"Weird?" Mathias asked, "In what way?"

"Like everything I knew was coming to an end," I replied, "Like everything was about to change."

"Thatisweird," Rand said, frowning.

"Forget it," I said, draping an arm around both of their shoulders, "Whatever it was, it's gone now."

Little did I know how wrong I was. Things were about to change. Drastically.

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7 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousover 2 years ago
Glock 37

A semiautomatic .45 cal pistol with a shorter case than the .45 ACP.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 3 years ago
Glock Revolver

F.Y.I.... Introduced in 2003, the Glock 37 is chambered in the first caliber developed in conjunction with the Austrian gun manufacturer, . 45 Glock Auto Pistol. Designed as more compact alternative to the legendary . 45 ACP round. Information is the key to power....always remember young grasshopper!

Anywho...I am enjoying how this story has started and luckily I get to binge read more of it now....yay me!

J.D.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 3 years ago
Glock revolver?

Glock doesn’t make a revolver, and caliber .37 is extremely uncommon for any gun. Maybe you meant 357? Or 38?

AnonymousAnonymousabout 3 years ago
Breakfast is a plate of sandwiches?

Sandwiches really?

gemman1gemman1over 3 years ago
Longer Chapters

You can make the Chapters longer.. this short is annoying.

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