This is not a story for the faint of heart. It's going to be long, it's going to be epic, and it's going to cross some lines. If you can't handle frequent cussing, antiheroes, or violence, back away – this isn't the story for you. But, if you're ready for a rocking adventure that mixes lightheartedness with explosive action, step inside and have a seat. We'll start off with an appetizer of nonlethal adventures while we get to know the characters, then launch into a city-wide showdown of ultraviolent action, vehicle combat, and rage-fueled duels.

This is also a story about a girl learning to have friends despite being just a little bit evil.

Enjoy.

I padded into the lounge, balancing my laptop in one hand and a plate of toast in the other. The sun blasted in the floor-to ceiling windows and hit my older brother, Gage. I envied that sun, because I wanted to hit Gage too. No, seriously, fuck him. I woke up early to get the armchair under the chandelier, and there he was, sprawled across it like he owned the fucking world, playing his handheld PlayStation. He didn't even like his handheld. He was only playing it so he could steal my chair and piss me off. Well Mission a-fucking-complished, Gage. I'm pissed.

Someone cleared his throat behind me, and I turned to see Jordan's fat neck bulging over the collar of his bullet-proof vest. He shook his head, and his message was clear – 'Don't start nothing.' He'd said it to us so often that he didn't even need to open his gob anymore. I swear, he's got the easiest job in the city. He acted like some sort of bodyguard, but he wasn't. He was the guy my dad paid to keep me and Gage from killing each other. Literally. Before Jordan, we'd tried it all the time. I still had scars on my back from Gage's last stab at me, and he had a bald patch on his head where I'd set him the fuck on fire. To put it mildly, we didn't get along.

I flopped down on the couch across from Gage, dropping the toast on the coffee table between us. Gage was snickering, knowing he'd pissed me off. I felt my muscles tightening, but I acted casual, hooking one leg over the back of the couch and opening my laptop. I'd get revenge sooner than he thought, and when I got revenge, it wasn't an eye for an eye - it was an eye for your goddamn head.

I hit play on my YouTube videos – an MMA fight in one tab and hard rock in another. Both were loud enough to drown out the sound of Gage's game, which was the point.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him switch off his game and lean forward to stare at me. That's right, I thought. Think about screwing me over. I grabbed a piece of toast and took a bite. The butter was still warm, and it smelled fantastic. Gage would fall for it any second now.

Sure enough, he reached over and snatched the nearest piece – the piece I'd deliberately placed on his side of the plate. I shot to my feet, pulling a switchblade from my sweats' pocket. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Behind me, I heard the scrape of Jordan drawing his Taser. "Go ahead and drop the knife, Evelyn!" He said. "Don't make me Tase you again."

Gage smiled and stuffed half the slice into his mouth. I dropped the switchblade back into my pocket and sat, laughing as Gage's smile died.

"Holy fuck," he said. "This tastes like rat poison. What did you put on this?"

I smirked. "Rat poison. Now are you gonna swallow it, or are you a fucking pussy?"

Gage grabbed my plate and spat the mouthful of toast onto it, spraying gunk on one of my slices. My fists clenched. "No one likes a bitch who doesn't swallow," I said.

"Well no one likes a bitch who poisons toast," he said. His hand went to his back pocket, ready to draw something.

Jordan was moving forward. I'm sure he could read the writing on the wall as well as we could. Shit was about to go down.

POP! POP-POP! POP!

Everyone turned toward the window.

"Were those gunshots?" Gage asked.

"Yeah," Jordan said, "they were."

Gage ran up to the windows and pressed his hands against the glass like a kid outside a candy joint. Not being a dumbass, I stayed put instead of making myself a huge target for anyone outside.

POP! RA-TAT-TAT-TAT! POP-POP! BOOM!

I paused my music. A boom meant someone was tossing grenades. This wasn't just dad's boys executing someone, and it wasn't some junkie out for revenge. It was either a rival gang or…

"It's the cops," Gage said.

"God damn it," I said. I turned to my computer and booted up my file nuking program.

"Oh shit," Gage said, "That's gotta be, like, four SWAT teams. We're fucked."

"No way," Jordan said. "Mr. Eyeshorne's got a hundred guys here."

"A hundred punks with pea shooters," Gage said. "These cops have machine guns, and that guy just took a bunch of shots to the chest, and he doesn't give a fuck! That's what I call body armor."

My program finished loading, and I started nuking files. 'plans to kill Gage' went first, then 'shit to do when I inherit dad's empire,' and finally, 'horse porn,' though I wasn't sure if the last one was illegal in this state.

There were two more rounds of gunfire, a scream, and then silence. I shut my computer and grabbed the plate. There was still one piece of toast that hadn't been ruined, and I wasn't going to let it go to waste because of some shitty cop bust. "I'm going to the security room," I said. "Have fun getting shot."

"No one's shooting," Gage said. "All the outside guards are cuffed or dead. Looks like they're getting a megaphone ready."

Jordan snorted. "I can't wait to hear this bullshit."

The megaphone crackled, muffled through the glass. "This is detective James Montegue of the New Belfort Police Department. We have the mansion surrounded. Everyone inside, come out slowly with your hands up."

"Do you think dad'll bitch out?" Gage asked.

"I would," I said. "killing SWATs won't do him any favors in court." I stepped closer to the window and saw SWAT cops on the lawn, their submachine guns pointed at the front door.

"I'm going to count to ten," the megaphone guy said, "If I don't see John Eyeshorne come out with his hands up by ten, these gentlemen are coming to get him. One. Two…"

"He's going to fight," Gage said.

"He's not fucking stupid," I said.

"Eight. Nine. Ten."

The front door opened.

A grenade rolled out.

My search history after writing this chapter:

Deadly household poisons

Lethal dose of bleach

How much rat poison kills a human?

Rat poison taste

How do I scrub incriminating files?

Size of a SWAT team

Is horse porn illegal?

I'm pretty sure I just became the NSA's wet dream. I'll just leave this list here to verify that this is really what I was doing with all those searches.