"Next up, ladies and gents; Cosain!" shouted the highly pierced and tattooed director of the rock club.
The crowd subsequently burst into a roar of applause and shouts. Four people made their way from the wing to the raised stage, the last bringing out even more noise from the crowd. One of the patrons in the back of the room wondered how she could stand that much shouting and such almost every night.
The last person who entered could barely be called a woman; for she couldn't be any older than seventeen. Her wavy dark brown, almost black hair hung down past her shoulders, which were hugged tightly by a black tank-top. Her black jeans were almost as tight on her thin legs. When she reached the microphone in the center of the stage, her striking green eyes swept across the crowd, which suddenly quieted. "Good evening," she greeted the room with the slightest of New York accents. "And without further a due, let the ballads begin!"
For the next forty-five minutes, a strong and trilling voice filled the room over an acoustic guitar, violin, flute, and old drum set. And then came the final act. After finishing the previous song, the girl ducked back into the wings, only to come back with an acoustic guitar. "This next song was written by another man. Those of you who have been with this establishment for awhile might know him. This is 'Sara' by Conchobar."
Her voice softened and took on an Irish twang as she flowed through the song that she played at the end of her act every night she performed. And soon it was over. She looked up from her instrument to the audience, sweeping over them again. "Until next time!" At that, the band made its exit back to the wings.
She said her quick goodbyes to the rest of the band, carefully packed her guitar away, grabbed her black knee-length coat, and walked out of the wings to head home. As she neared the exit, she was stopped by a man who came up to her with his usual amiable smile. "Hey there, Bec!"
She smiled back at the middle aged Chinese man. "Hello, Danny. I have my bike, so I do not see why you are here." They continued her original path towards the door.
"Can't a family friend come to see your gig?" he joked.
"Of course." Bec smiled back, trying and failing to hold back a yawn. "Well, did you enjoy it?"
"Yes, I did. And this is a miraculous break through; Rebecca Nottingham is actually tired!" Danny proclaimed, spinning Rebecca around for a bit.
"I am not tired." Rebecca nearly hissed. Rearranging her face into a friendlier mood, she bid Danny good bye, saying that she would see him that weekend. She practically ran to her silver Buell so she could get home.
She raced down the streets to the outskirts of the city, where she drove her bike into the parking area of a large mansion on the crest of a small hill. She noticed that at least the black Jaguar was parked there, though the blue Crown Victoria wasn't. So, in a slightly better mood, she climbed the stairs to the main hallway of her home.
Entering into the main room to look for her favorite book, she found a black suited figure lounging in the chair nearest the fire, stroking his short beard and staring into the fire. "Hello, Father." She called happily, sitting down on the couch with her book.
"Hello, Rebecca." Ian returned back warmly. "How was your evening?" he asked, wishing he could have seen his daughter performing on stage, which is one of the things that she truly loved.
"Loud." Rebecca replied absentmindedly, already absorbed into her book.
Ian chuckled as he crossed silently to stand behind Rebecca. Looking over her shoulder, he chuckled again at the title of the book she was reading. "Have you not read this book many times before?" without waiting for an answer, he snatched the book and set it down on the desk by the couch.
"Yes, but your point is? How many times have you read Art of War?" Rebecca threw back at him. She tried to get her book back, but only to have it snatched away again and held out of her reach.
"That is different. This is a romance novel that you have read at least fifteen times." After thinking for a bit, and enjoying his beloved daughter's look of annoyance, he smirked and morphed his face into a business-like façade. "Then I propose a contest; a battle of the swords. The winner gains the possession of Twilight. Do you agree?"
"Of course." Rebecca smiled darkly. She rose fluidly from the couch and walked over to the rack of weapons and chose her practice katana from the large collection.
Ian joined her at the rack after he had placed her book on top of the doorframe into the room. He chose his practice katana as well and moved to the center of the room, beckoning Rebecca forward. And she came, full speed with her weapon at the ready.
Steel clashed as they both struck and attack with exceptional speed and strength. At a few points, Rebecca was even winning out over Ian, the trained assassin and Black Dragon member. But most of the time, they were evenly matched. Once or twice, one would knock the sword out of the other's hand and there would be a mad dash for either to recover it.
After half an hour, the door opened again, but neither fighter noticed. "What are you two doing!" shouted a slightly annoyed woman in dark jeans, grey sweater, with a gun and badge hooked to her belt.
"Fighting over Twilight." Rebecca answered rather breathlessly.
Ian only nodded, but took advantage of Rebecca's slight distraction and knocked her sword out of her hand. The two ran for it, but Rebecca had a better idea. She ran past the sword and to the doorframe behind her mother. She jumped up as high as she could and batted the book that rested there. As she landed, she held out her hands. A few milliseconds later, the book fell into them.
"Alright, alright," Sara laughed. "Rebecca wins. And Rebecca, your principal called after you left for school, they do need you to play that song on Friday."
"Sure, sure, Mother." Rebecca sighed as she plopped back onto the couch to continue reading.
L W again!
Here's the chapter 3 I was talking about. I know it's still kind of short, but I'm trying.
REMEMBER: this takes place 17 years after chapter 1 and 2, which are a year after the cut-off of season 2.
Questions? Comments? Concerns? Shoot me a message.
L W ( the Excaliber wielding half of idkaname)