Ain't No Rest For The Wicked

Disclaimer: So, all of this lovely stuff belongs to the amazing imagination of Ms Stephanie Meyer, no copyright infringement intended. I just play in the sandbox with her characters.. and mess them up a little. :)

So, this is a brand new story for me. Please leave a review on what you think. I would be very much appreciative and would send lots and lots of chocolate chip cookies your way!

This story is rated M, if you are underage (below 18.. yes, I'm talking to you little chickens) or have a problem with this, then please navigate back to a suitable page.

Hang on to your panties.

Chapter One

It was fucking freezing out, and I had been waiting on this stupid platform for the past forty-five minutes. It was one of those older platforms, completely exposed and it made me feel uneasy.

I took a drag of my Lucky, and flicked the ashes to the ground. Watching as they blew away in the wind.

It was the beginning of winter and there was nothing more I wanted right now than my shitty sleeping bag and my comfy socks.

I looked around again, just making sure I hadn't missed him. It was half eight, and the sky was black. It had been dark for most of the day. I scoffed as I thought of the weather, fuck you New York.

For a Thursday night the platform was still busy. People coming in and out for maybe work, or home. I saw some girls wearing tight skirts and see through shirts, intending for a night on the town. Teeth chattering, blue lips and shivering. I chuckled.

Hypothermia is a ho, silly bitches.

A tall, dark skinned man caught my eye. A few years older than me, probably in his mid to late twenties I guessed. He looked at me and gave me a wink. He sat down on one of the benches with a black duffle bag that he placed next to him.

I smiled and looked away.

A train pulled into the platform and he got up, leaving the duffle behind on the bench and boarded the train. It was quick to pick up its passengers and depart.

I walked slowly towards the black duffle, making sure I wasn't suspicious, but all the while making sure no one realised he had left it behind.

I quickly grabbed the bag and made my way out of Penn Station. It was a fucking maze to me.

Not wanting to be anywhere near there, I hailed a cab and went back over the bridge to Greenwood.

My heart was pounding, my breaths were short and fast, my throat was dry, but I couldn't wipe the smirk off my face.

I had it. The shit that was going to get me the hell outta Brooklyn. I was still smiling as I paid the cab driver a couple of twenties and got out a few blocks short of where I was staying.

I started walking - heading south towards the warehouses along the river.

The warehouse I was staying in looked like it had been abandoned for a while by my guess, but it was the best place for someone like me to hide.

It was big. Lots of windows, half of them broken, no dividing walls and a shit tonne of concrete compete with graffiti. There were a few large columns in the middle of the room and a sort of loft bit at the very end of it, without any stairs, which as you could tell is extremely helpful. I had set up camp in the corner of the place - away from the windows and furthest from the doors.

It wasn't ideal and it left me slightly exposed - but what can a girl do.

I couldn't have an apartment in my name, let alone a bank account or a credit card. Never leave a trail.

Never.

That was the first rule.

The second? Shoot first - ask questions later.

I toted the duffle over to where I slept and placed it carefully on my makeshift bed. Basically, a sleeping bag and a sort of lumpy pillow. I didn't mind, it kept me warm and if I ever needed to up and leave I wouldn't really miss it. Even though it was sub zero and cost a pretty penny - not like I paid for it though.

I took a seat on the cold concrete floor. I'm normally the first to bitch about the cold, but I could not give a fuck right now. I pulled the black bag towards me, and took out its contents.

A manila folder, a couple of pages of blue prints, about hundred grand cash in non-marked bills and an invitation - which had me intrigued.

I opened the folder carefully, my hands shaking slightly with excitement. The left side had a few black and white photos while the right had a few A4 pages of information.

I quickly scanned over the pages. Basically, I grab some photos of some documents in a safe, hand them over to the Russians and I get another two hundred thousand. Should be easy enough, although the Russians are shady as fuck.

The blueprints were of a building called Breaking Dawn. A gentleman's club that was just over in Redhook. The room I had to break into in order to get to the safe and crack it, was right next to the bar and the VIP room.

I groaned, rolling my eyes and threw the blueprints aside, deciding to tackle the minor details later.

I pulled the photographs towards me.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

I took a deep breath in and studied the photograph once more.

The mark was Edward Cullen.

'Fuck me' I breathed.

It's going to be nearly impossible. But fuck it. I'm going to try.

I knew as soon as I thought that, not only was I utterly and completely fucked in the head… this just might get me killed. Or worse - on Edward Cullen's radar.

- Ain't No Rest For The Wicked -

'Again, Isabella. For fucks sake!' He yelled at me.

I was trying my hardest. My muscles ached from my exertion, screaming in protest for me to move any harder or faster.

'I cant!' I cried. Please, I thought. Please. This would be the third life I had taken today.

So much red in my ledger.

Tears were streaming down my face from frustration. I stared straight at Afton. He was lower level in Aro's sick, twisted 'guard'.

Afton laughed at me. Kept taunting about how I was a woman, and the only thing I was worthy of was a cock in my mouth.

I growled in anger and hit him square in the jaw. He wasn't expecting the hit and stumbled back a few paces.

He spat out some blood, and what I thought looked like a tooth. It was my turn to laugh.

'Getting beaten up by a girl? Fuck you, asshole!' I screamed as I lunged at him again. This time knocking him to the ground and swiftly breaking his neck.

I relished in the snap that it made and grinned.

Poor idiot didn't even get a hit in. I shook my head in disappointed.

They were either getting worse, or I was getting better.

I got up off of Afton and turned back to Aro, my demonic smirk still in place.

'And that's what you get when you push, daddy dearest' I whispered in his ear and moaned. The pervert always had a thing for underage girls.

Pretty underage girls – and I fit the bill to a 'T'.

At 16, with long chestnut hair down to the swell of my pert ass and generously sized cleavage – well I was every man's wet dream.

And I fucking knew it. I walked back inside Aro's castle with the thought that someday soon, I'm going to slaughter Aro Volturi.

And enjoy it.

I woke with a start. Beads of cold sweat had formed on my forehead. I swiped at my face with my hands but paused.

Something definitely wasn't right. I gritted my teeth and prepared for the onslaught.

- Ain't No Rest For The Wicked -

EEEEEP. *Peeks out behind fingers* So how did it go? Love, hate or otherwise. Leave some love... Or constructive criticism? Reviews are crack to my caffeine addicted mind!

Promise that Mobward will be introduced soon. We just have to have a little background, before I let them mess each other up!

Much love to you all!

LadyMiss