Ain't Born Typical

Rated M: Violence, language and lemons.

Theme Song- U.R.A Fever by The Kills

A former convict and a former juvenile delinquent accidently cross paths during a shooting, which they are wrongfully accused of. Escaping together, they become the FBI's most wanted "Modern day Bonnie and Clyde." During their escape, they come to hate, protect and find solace in each other and realize they still might be human.


Chapter One- How They Met

"Aw fuck," Edward groaned as the little orange light let him know his shitty car needed gas. He didn't have time to waste and getting fucking gas was wasting time.

The truck ahead of him was going half the speed limit and it was a single lane. He could feel the anger burning through his veins and the blood throbbing painfully against their walls. He slapped his steering wheel and exhaled a few more profanities through his clenched teeth.

It was a lonely road in Arizona and the heat of the mid day was just adding to his bad temper and bitterness. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and rolled his window a little lower since the damn air conditioner in his shitty car wasn't working.

"Come on you fucking asshole!" he shouted at the truck ahead of him. He violently turned the car into off the road. He passed the old red Chevy truck and as he glanced at the driver he realized it was a woman. The wind blew her brown hair through her opened window, masking her face.

"Idiot," he shouted as he made his way back onto the road ahead of her. He drove for a few more minutes hoping to find a gas station, but luck was never on his side. It hadn't been in the past ten years. He should've known this would happen. His shitty car gave up and he cursed as it came to an ugly stop at the side of the road. He got off and looked around, but there was not a single soul. He punched the hood of the car as hard as he could and the car door he had just opened.

He didn't have a phone. It wasn't like anybody he knew would help him anyway. He shoved his hand into the glove box and hissed as the abrupt movement reminded him that because of his bad temper he had hurt his hand. He took the money he had stashed and hesitantly grabbed the gun that stared at him like the fucking devil. He shoved the gun under his belt and pulled his white t-shirt over it. He took his pills and shoved those fuckers into his pocket. He hated them. They made his mouth dry, but they helped him control himself. He slipped the backpack that contained his only belongings over his shoulder and looked at the lone road ahead of him.

He walked through the scorching heat and once in a while a car or truck would pass him, but he didn't bother extending his hand out to ask for a ride. He knew he would scare them away if they saw the look in his eyes.

He didn't used to be like this.

He didn't used to be a man people feared or man that feared himself. He used to be a good man. He used to be a man of God, family and a faithful believer that justice was for the good and punishment was for the wicked.

But ever since he tasted blood in his mouth and witnessed the horror of death, rape and all evil that came from man and the world, he'd become this cynical and heartless bastard he couldn't stand.

He swallowed hoping to alleviate his dry throat and wiped the sweat that ran down his face with his hand.

He laughed darkly as the old Chevy truck passed, this time leaving him behind.

"Well about fucking time," Edward shouted as the truck finally disappeared into the distance. After what seemed to be an eternity, he found a small and rickety gas station with a sign with the word "gas" glaring at him. He planned to buy some gas and hitch a ride back to his car. He pulled his wallet out and quickly avoided looking at the two pair of eyes looking at him in that smudged photo he kept inside of it.

He counted the bills and groaned as he would probably need to use some of his "special money." He took the envelope of cash and realized he had already used too much of what he needed. He felt desperate, but he wasn't going to call them. He would just ruin them some more. He didn't need to remind them of the failure he was.

As he made it to the little gas station he realized the fucking red truck was parked there now, on the side of the building, and he couldn't help but laugh. He opened the door to the store and his nose was quickly filled with the smell of old and dust. The old man at the cash register nodded at him. His white beard almost reached his round beer belly and the red around his neck looked painful.

There are no people here and he's an old man who would be scared shitless just as soon as you show him you have a gun.

But this shit isn't right.

Who gives a flying fuck? Who has ever done the right thing around you? You need the fucking money.

I do

So fucking do it!

I've never done this.

Just shove the gun in his face and the money will fall into your hands.

How the hell am I going to get away with no ride?

Steal his…

Fuck you

He rolled his eyes at his own inner fucked up musings and realized he was staring at a bag of chips a little too long. He grabbed the bag and walked to the drink section. He grabbed a water bottle and a can of beer when he realized a girl staring at the sodas. She was wearing short jean shorts, a white wife beater and a pair of black boots. He internally groaned as his greedy eyes roamed the length of her legs and the creamy paleness of her skin. Her messy and tousled long reddish, brown curls were a sharp contrast to her paleness.

You haven't had pussy in ages!

I know. Shut the fuck up.

She sighed as if it was the hardest decision of her life, but finally grabbed a Coke. He decided to follow her as she walked off, but kept his distance. He was already too amused by her for his own good. She stopped at a small book stand, as he pretended to look at the candy stand across from it, but kept glancing at her. She picked up what looked like a cheap romance novel and after she read the summary of it, giggled.

"Stupid shit," she joked, but took it anyway and finally looked his way. He could've looked away, pretend that he wasn't being a fucking stalker, but he was already caught. She gave him a shy smile and blushed a pretty shade of pink as he smiled back. She quickly looked away and he felt a little disappointed that her large brown eyes were no longer directed to his green. He rubbed his cheeks in frustration and realized how thick his stubble had grown.

I should've shaved.

She walked to the cash register and stood behind an old woman who was buying what seemed to be like a lifetime supply of Marlboro cigarettes. She fucking smelled like she bathed in a tub of nicotine.

He decided that he didn't need anything else and stood behind the brunette with the creamy pale skin and he chuckled to himself as she quickly turned away after she had noticed him behind her.

He licked his lips at the small butterfly tattoo on her right shoulder. It was tacky, but fuck she was sexy. Even the way some strands of her hair stuck to her sweaty neck was sexy. The way her black braw was visible through her wife beater and the way her ass looked in those shorts made him take deep breaths just to calm himself down.

The sound of the cash register opening brought him back from his sexed up thoughts.

He could do it after the old hag left and the pretty girl made it far from him. He didn't want to give the old woman a heart attack and scare the pretty girl. He looked at the old man at the register again. He looked fragile and pathetic.

What if he has family?

You aren't going to kill him fuckface, just scare him a little until he hands over the cash.

Maybe he has an old wife to support.

Who gives a fuck?

He shook his head wondering where his old self had gone.

Died. You know he died. He died a horrible fucking death.

I wish.

He pulled at his mess of bronze colored hair, not knowing how to stop his thoughts.

The old smoker finally left and pretty girl placed her Coke and romance novel on the counter while the old bastard ogled her chest.

"Yes they're real, old man. Now get me a pack of smokes," she ordered and the embarrassed, old bastard cleared his throat.

"ID?"

"Shit, I'm old enough for you to stare at my tits, ain't I?" The pretty girl had a rough mouth.

"ID, girl?" The old bastard huffed in annoyance and with a click of her tongue, she shoved her hand in her back pocket and handed him a bent and worn ID card. He glared at her and turned his back to her to get her smokes.

While the old bastard grabbed the pretty girl's smokes, the light reflection off a brand new black car that had just parked outside the gas station caught Edward's eye. A man in black shoved his hand in his coat and took out a gun.

Instinct took over as the man pointed the gun at them through the dirty window of the gas station and Edward grabbed the pretty girl with his hands and pulled with her him to the ground. A loud blast and the sound of broken glass vibrated the old store.

"Shit," Edward huffed as the glass landed around them. The shots kept sounding off. "Come on," he ordered the girl as he crawled away. She followed behind until they reached the back of the store.

"I bet there is a door and a way out," she yelled over the shooting.

He stood when he felt they were far enough and pulled her up before he started running with her hand in his. "We have to get the hell out of here."

He kicked the old door that led to the outside world and pulled her with him. "We need a ride!"

"My truck," she said and without waiting for him ran to the old red Chevy truck.

He didn't know whether to laugh or shout. But he didn't have much time to do anything as she started the old Goddamn thing up.

"Come on!"

He jumped into the truck and looked out the window for the shooter.

"This truck is yours?" He asked, as she backed out of the store. Gun shots missed the truck with luck in their behalf.

"Yes!" She shouted.

"How the hell is this piece of shit going to get us out of here?" A rushed feeling of excitement and fear had taken over both of them making their breaths deep and heart beats race.

She didn't answer and instead pressed the gas pedal as hard as she could, forcing the old piece of metal to run.

Edward took a look into the rearview mirror and noticed the black car was now after them.

"Fuck! Who are they? Do you know them? Are they after you?" She asked in desperation.

"What? No. Do you know them? Are they after you?"

"Fuck you! Why would they be after me?"

"Shit if I know!"

"Hold on," she shouted and jerked the steering wheel to the right making the truck come off the road and drive into the dirt and Arizona's dry fields.

"What are you doing?" He shouted back as he held on for life as the bumpy ride violently shook him around. He hoped the old truck would hold up during the rough off road adventure it was taking.

The car had caught up to them and was now on their side. The passenger of the black car pointed a gun to her.

"Just hold on!"

"Holy shit!" he shouted as he noticed they were driving on top of a hill and it was coming to a deadly end.

"You better hold on buddy or you're going straight though to the window," she warned him.

Edward didn't know what she was going to do, but held on anyway.

She suddenly stomped down on her break causing for them to jerk forward into the dashboard. The driver of the car didn't notice the hill's end and drove off while her truck slid to the edge.

It stopped just in time.

They gasped for air as they came to the realization that they were alive and apparently safe.

"Why weren't you driving like that earlier?" he asked, making her laugh at his random humor.

"Do you think they're alive?" she asked.

"I don't know. But they had guns and they wanted to kill either you or me so let's not find out and get the hell out of here," he said.

She took a deep breath and nodded.

"That sounds like a good idea."

He looked down and realized the book she had picked back at the store was now on the floor of the truck.

"You took it?" he asked incredulously while waving the book at her.

"I had it in my hand the whole time."

They both laughed.

They didn't know if they were laughing at the fact that she stole the book or at the fact that they were alive.

"My name is Edward," he said, after a few minutes of silence.

"Isabella, but call me that and I'll cut your balls off. Call me Bella."

He chuckled, but then the book slipped from his hands and fell on the floor of the truck again, this time opening a bit. He stopped chuckling when he noticed that out of the book, the corner of a twenty dollar bill appeared. He picked it up again and opened the book to where the bill was.

He had mistaken, it was not one twenty dollar bill. It was seven of them.

"You robbed the old bastard?"

Bella didn't respond and only licked her dry lips. She started the truck again and headed back to the road. She deeply sighed, knowing she had to answer him.

"You were going to do it too," she said. She didn't say it accusingly. She was only confirming what they both knew.

"Yes," he said calmly.

He stared out of the passenger window, wondering who the hell those men were. Were they sent by Aro? But how would they know he was in Arizona?

What the hell he was going to do with his life. It wasn't exactly the thought normal people have while riding with a stranger and thief and after being shot at, but it seemed he hadn't bothered asking himself this in the three years he aged in prison. Now, this freedom he had was overwhelming.

He wanted to get back.

He wanted to make them pay, especially if those men were sent by them.

"I'm headed to Las Vegas," she said, breaking his train of thought.

He took a deep breath and nodded. "I'll pay you to get me there too."

"How much?"

"Five hundred."

"Deal."


Bonniella and Clydeward

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