Acrasia

Bang! Bang!

Chris couldn't even shoot off a third bullet before his arm cramped up and he dropped the gun in his hand. He pursed his lips, looking at the tree stump he had been using as a target. He had barely scratched the bark. His aim had been terrible, and he couldn't do what he was used to. He had spent his entire life perfecting it, and though he wasn't using it for horrible purposes anymore, he felt frustrated that his life's work had been flushed down the toilet.

Rae was sitting on a picnic bench behind him, silently watching. She didn't say anything, but he knew that she didn't like him shooting the stump like that. He picked up the gun and tucked it away, only to upset the kid who was sitting at the table with Rae.

"No!" he pouted. "That was cool do it again!"

"No," Chris rolled his eyes.

"Can I try?" Kid asked, straightening his back.

"Absolutely not."

"I'm good at it, though!" Kid protested. "I hold a record in head shots in Modern Warfare! Go ahead and ask John Dunmore, I beat his score every time!"

"This isn't a video game, Kid!" Chris snapped.

Kid sunk into his seat, and Rae reached over and patted his hand.

"It's for the best," she said softly.

"Where the hell did you even learn to shoot?"

"Shooting range," Chris semi-lied.

Kid didn't know a thing about his past as an assassin, and Chris planned to keep it that way. He was inventing a new life for himself as Chris Butler. Christopher Huntington died in the warehouse at George's hand, and was buried with his name. As far as the organization knew, he was dead.

Chris couldn't help but wonder what his family was doing. Did his father cry? Did he feel anything with the loss of his only son, his firstborn child? Chris tried not to think about it. He didn't associate himself with his family anymore.

Kid sighed, watching as Chris put the gun away.

"You're totally sure? Like, no hesitating or nothing?"

"I'm sure."

"Is it because I'm black?"

Chris scowled. That was Kid's favorite thing to say, and it was usually effective. Usually. He wasn't even black, he was only half. All he got was the tanned skin. Rae shot Kid a look, and the boy ran a hand through his curly blonde hair and looked away. He was sixteen, and he would only be mad for a few minutes before forgetting. Chris had notice that Rae almost felt maternal towards him, always trying to protect him. More than anyone, she wanted to make sure Kid got home to his parents safely. There may or may not have been a pedophile chasing him, and she was ready for anything. Chris sat down next to her, giving her a peck on the lips.

"You guys," Kid wrinkled his nose. "It's like watching my brother and sister kiss. Like freaking Luke and Leia Skywalker. Once my buddy, Tim, went to this Halloween party dressed like Darth Maul. And it was one of those parties where the girls dress all slutty and the guys just don't care. But Tim went all out with the red and black makeup and horns and shit, thinking that he would win over the hearts of every 'sexy witch' and 'bunny' in there. All he got was weird looks, though. I was ghost, I think. Meaning all I did was wear white. And then I kissed Maggie, because she was drunk and thought I was Gary Cooper. Then Gary Cooper found out and punched me. And then I had this super cool black eye!"

"How is this relevant?" Chris raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Kid tilted his head slightly. He had already forgotten everything and was lost in his own thoughts.

"Just go with it," Rae whispered to Chris, then laughed.

Chris shook his head, pulling out the big paper map from the bag lying on the table. They couldn't use phones or anything electronic, because it could easily be tracked. If anyone found out that Chris wasn't really dead, heads would roll. Not to mention the pedophile that would probably end up killing Kid in a terrible way. The paper map was confusing to read, and there were notes and lines scattered around it, marking their route. Los Angeles, California.

"We should go," Chris got up. "It won't take long for the rangers to find out that we're not really on camping trip, and that if Kid was really our son then that would mean Rae was pregnant at six years old. Who's driving?"

"Nose goes!" Kid jumped up, putting his finger on his nose and climbing into the old hippie can they drove. Rae quickly put her finger on her nose, too. She gave him one more kiss on the cheek and handed him the keys.

"Real mature," Chris mumbled, getting into the drivers seat.