The Mason's

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a neat little story about a wonderful family that I wish I was apart of. Hope you enjoy it.

Submitted: December 28, 2011

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Submitted: December 28, 2011

A A A

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The Mason’s

 

Jonahs is a young boy of about thirteen who has a typical life at school.

But not when he gets home.

He bursts through the door expected to see his dad there but is disappointed when he does not. His mother is in the kitchen washing dishes, she’s not a stay at home mother simply on vacation, “Jonah your father left your present on the couch for you”

Bursting from the door, slamming it behind him, his mother gives him a scolding look but says nothing, it is after all his birthday, and he rushes to the couch to find his birthday present. Something his father said he could have if he aced his Math final in one shot, which he had.

Sitting on the couch is an M14 assault rifle, with scope, standard sniper feet, and a silencer and three full clips lay beside it. A small card sits propped up against the couch, he opens it up and reads. “Dear son, I’ll be home soon but here’s something to help you grow up. Love you, Dad”

He picks up the gun, minus the cartridge, and puts the stock in his shoulder like a professional, aiming through the scope at many things in the living room before shouting out loud. “Yaaaahoooo!” He snatches up the magazines and silencer and rushes over to the stairwell, which is left ajar, and slams it shut.

Rushing down the soundproof corridor he resists the urge to kick open the door at the bottom and simply turns the handle. Sounds of gunfire come to his ears, muffled by the bulletproof barrier between them and the three aisle firing range. In the one far to the right sits his sister.

In her modified wheelchair with strut support and braces for firing high calibre weapons.

Contrary to those in the know she got paralyzed by a car accident with her late boyfriend, yet still enjoys time with her family from time-to-time.

She holds her eighteen year old birthday present in her arms, also like a professional, a G36C with a red-dot scope, tact light, and a laser range finder, set of binoc’s hanging from her neck. Three spent cartridges sit on the lowered table beside her. A target down range, a piece of paper with the A-typical scores on it, staring back at her, full of holes, she doesn’t look to see her little brother behind her, yet stops firing to wave over her shoulder.

He waves back, still amazed at his sister’s proficiency in situational awareness, well she does professionally teach at a tactical academy, firearms and tactics, and is quite respected in her field.

What he first does with his gun is what his father tells him to do each time assessing a new weapon, and that is with enough time. Strip it down and look at the components, he’s never stripped an M14 so he takes his time savouring the moment for what it is.

The shots stop in the firing range and she gathers up the empties and switches the gun to safety, more out of habit than actual safety, placing both on her lap, lowers her headset and takes off her glasses, then wheels to the door and out into the small armoury the family has.

It is an armoury, don’t kid yourself, they have a wider variety of firearms in their basement that most shooting ranges do. And the ammunition to infiltrate a jungle base, their father is a gunsmith, one of the best, and he makes sure his children know how to maintain, clean, fix, and most of all fire each and every one of these weapons. Even his wife knows the difference between a P99, and a TAR-21 and can fire field strip and clean both.

She quietly wheels up behind her little brother and watches him, with a smile strapped to his face as he strips down the M14 and then reassembles it.

She looks up to the family firearm wall, each family member is permitted three weapons, hers is empty but pictures of what she can carry are still up there, G36C, Expert USP, and a Barrett XM500, the slimmer version of the Barrett Light fifty but by no means lacking.

Her little brother only has his HK .45 up there next to mom’s and dad’s guns. Now he’s getting an M14 and he’s so giddy it’s like he’s eight again receiving his first handgun.

Now by no means does the family have their weapons chosen for them, each gets to choose from The Book.

The Book is what it sounds like, a book containing most of the firearms in the world known to mankind, everything from the fabled WWII MP40, to the more modern FN Minimi is in that book. She knew he’d chosen this rifle for the seven-point-six-two rounds it carries. He has an affinity for them, something she can’t understand.

Once he finishes reassembling it, he turns, gun in hand, and nearly jumps out of his skin at the sight of his sister sitting there. “Holy crap!”

She extends her hands and he walks into them, “Happy Birthday little brother!”

He hugs her back, as much as he can with a gun in his arms, and then gives her the smile she was waiting for. “How long have you been back?”

She rolls over to a duffel bag, her own personal one, and puts her rifle back into the bag and then pulls out a durable plastic case a small handgun and rounds. “Since about seven this morning, I caught the morning flight instead,” rolling over to the bench her personal lowered one, and opens up the case to assemble the large fifty calibre sniper rifle. Her brother watching on with awe, as he always did. “Caught mom by surprise, she was still in her nightgown when she came to the door” As a large bolt action was drawn back then released, causing a loud sound, sickening to anyone on the wrong end, but nearly orgasmic to both humans in the basement. “Come on,”

They went into the firing room and she rolled over to her spot with practised ease and set up both sniper rifle and handgun, yet only loaded rounds into the small handgun. Only nine-millimetre nothing special, not compared to her little brothers monster.

He grabbed his headset glasses and reinforced stepping stool, eagerly waiting for the day he wouldn’t need it, his father is six feet and his mother is five ten, they’re not a short family.

Resting the rifle on the range, slamming home a cartridge, picking up a clear sheet from the many hanging beside him in a plastic case, hanging it on the runner then hitting the button until it stopped at fifty feet, his sister did the same but for only twenty-five.

Pulling back the bolt he was as happy as, well, a kid with an M14 assault rifle.

He picked off two eyes in the target then a smiley face, and then continued on until he was out of rounds, it was sloppy and uncoordinated and completely off target, but that was just for fun, he wasn’t trying for points. This had been simply the joy of a boy hood dream coming true. Popping out the magazine then slamming a fresh one in, he clicked on the safety and then retrieved the paper and set up a new one.

His sister, completely exhausting her two clips of pistol ammunition switched to the large rifle and set up a new sheet for herself, extending it to longest range. At this range it was no challenge, a hundred feet, but she was more in it for the fun of it, pulling back the large bolt, loading in a fresh fifty calibre round she set the braces on her chair and put down the feet that slammed into the concrete like a gunshot.

Setting her eyes down the rifle she breathed deeply, experience taking over along with concentration, then an earth shaking boom rocked the practise range in their basement, if it wasn’t for the soundproofing, and the first layer of bulletproof glass, it would have been heard outside.

Instead a small thump could be heard from underneath the kitchen.

Her little brother smiled, he loved the sound of that big gun.

Taking aim himself he let loose the next twenty rounds down range, taking his time and going for points this time, until the cartridge was empty, rolling the sheet back he was proud of his little grouping of shots, namely in the chest and head.

Upstairs in the kitchen the door opened to the father coming home from his shop in the city, fixing up guns for the local police, enthusiasts, and sometimes military personnel who were in town or retirees who liked their weapons in top shape.

He owns his own gun shop now and does customization and repairs, this small fortune, along with his wife’s indescribable ability to sell homes and offices they’ve afforded a small home out on the edge of the city, before it could expand that far, and set up a small shooting range in their basement, with the best ventilation system money could buy.

He pecks his wife on the cheek and pulls off his jacket, revealing his waist mounted firearm he always wears to work, and takes off that as well setting it down on the counter. Looking over to the couch, “I see Junior’s gotten his gift” As another thump could be heard downstairs, he knew that vibration. “Is Jennifer here?”

She stopped what she was doing and came up to him holding him close to her chest. “Yes she got in right after you left, she brought her toys to” Her husband smiled at her. “So that means we have some time before they get back up”

Picking up his gun, more so no one would spot it out the window, however improbable that might seem, they rushed off to their bedroom upstairs.

 

Luckily the children were busy chatting as they cleaned their rifles, him for the first time with his new gun, her because she’d been neglecting it for the past week because of her boyfriend, she was paralyzed from the knees down not waist down.

It also gave them time to chat leisurely about their lives, loves and laughs.

Apparently her little brother had a crush on a girl at school, one he was reluctant to admit, and he was having trouble asking her out on a date. She told him there was still plenty of time to go out on dates and that’s when the conversation turned on her to her new boyfriend. She went into as much detail as she dared, leaving out the PG 18 parts leaving her brother with everything else.

They had a small pistol firing challenge, using the same Berretta to see who could do better at Fifty feet.

Surprisingly the little brother won, he’d been practising with it recently, to the distaste of his sister.

She only missed the title by ten points, which she promptly reminded him.

When they’d gotten back upstairs, her on the small elevator that went to the hallway, him up the stairs, both parents where just getting back downstairs, hair a bit messed and chests heaving a little. Jennifer knew what that meant, but left everything else to her brothers imagination.

They had a nice little family dinner, then birthday time with a cake in the shape of a shot up paper target. Apparently their mom had shot the target with her own MP7A1 submachine gun then replicated it on the cake.

Then the presents came, they were typical Mason family presents, sights, grips, and a special rail system for his HK .45. Then the more normal gifts, so he could show his friends, battleship-the new version, socks, a t-shirt that said ‘They can’t see me I can’t see them’, a new video game for him, and the families gift to him, a laptop. He thanked them all with the appropriate hugs and kisses, on the cheeks of course, and then he went with his sister to go and play the new game up on the second floor.

While his father went downstairs to take a look at some guys hunting rifle he’d jammed in such a spectacular way, and his wife joining him to take a few shots at the targets with her M3 Super 90 shotgun.

A regular afternoon at the Mason’s....Wow.

 

Three years later

 

“Dad your orders here” teenage Jordan shouted upstairs. It was a package his father had been waiting for from the US military, the new six-point-eight ammunition and a modified M4 to fire it from.

His father rushed down the steps like a kid on Christmas day.

Without even noticing his son’s mood he snatched the package and rushed downstairs.

Jordan was having a hard time with his three year girl friend Yuki.

Ever since he asked his sister those three fateful years ago to help him with his girl troubles he’s had her eye ever since.

But these last few weeks she’s been distant, and strange bruises and marks have been showing up all over. Someone was abusing her, he knew it, but she wouldn’t talk to him about it, and that hurt him more than knowing that some bastard was hurting her. Although all he felt for him was a deep sense of rage.

So what had been his course of action, call in an expert on handling tense hostage like situations.

The door range and he went over and opened it up for his expert.

His sister rolled in, she was a little wiser these days, having one kid and one on the way, like it was said before she was paralyzed from the knees down not waist. She had her legs surgically removed soon after she left home last time and she’s kept herself in a wheelchair, thanks to its high mobility and ability to carry more than if she was on prosthetics.

“Hey little brother” She hugged him as he half heartedly hugged her back. She looked at him shocked, “Wow it is serious” Rolling over to the living room she stopped by the lazy-boy and patted the chair. “Come on talk to me”

He sat down and unloaded the recent problems he was having with her.

She took a moment before saying, “Wow that’s depressing”

Rolling his head over to her, “You’re not helping”

“Yeah sorry,” She rested her hands on her stomach, one on top the other rubbing her belly. Something she does now when she’s trying to think. “Well we could always go and rescue her, she at home now?”

Sighing he sat up and leaned over in his chair, “I already thought of that, you know the family rule, no one outside of the family knows”

Shrugging her shoulders, “Then don’t let her know it’s you. You’ve still got that balaclava from when you stopped that robbery at the connivance store right?”

He tensed when she said that. “You know about that?”

“Oh come on, you know how proud dad is that his kids are gun totting psychos”

He nodded. “But I just can’t do that. I can’t scare her anymore than she already is”

Rubbing her belly, “I suppose...” looking a little disappointed, “...are you sure?”

Looking at her serious, “We’re not storming her house Jen”

Quietly she said “Damn”

“Besides you’ve got the baby to worry about now, you can’t go into a gunfight”

Sighing, “Yeah I know. I hardly get down to the range anymore, gun-smoke and all. I haven’t fired a gun in over three months”

“That’s sad”

They both sat there thinking about how they could help his girlfriend, someone, most likely her father, was abusing her physically, god knows how else, and there was nothing else they could do.

“Well I guess we could always call Donnie” he suggested, loathing the very idea.

“Oh really, common we can use silencers, cut the power no one will know” She pleaded.

“Donnie will,”

Blowing a tuff of hair out of her eye, “You know sometimes I really hate that we know the Gerban’s”

They made the call and about half an hour later an undercover cop car pulled up in front of their house and Donnie was let in.

“Hey boys and girls what’s the....whoa! Sorry I’m a cop not a nurse” looking at Jen’s stomach in surprise.

“Oh shove it Donnie”

He gave Jordan a handshake, “How’s it hanging Jordan”

“Slightly to the left”

“Well anyway let’s get this show on the road, Jen you coming?”

Shaking her head reluctantly, “No Jordan’s right, I’ll stay out of the line of fire on this one”

He nodded understand. “Speaking of line of fire, you uh,” Making the pistol shape with his fingers.

Jordan opened up his dress shirt. Overtop his long sleeve T to show his shoulder harness and his HK .45. “Haven’t put it down since I got up this morning, been thinking about using it all day”

 

They both got in the car and he drove them to the address Jordan supplied.

When they went up to the front door they could hear sounds of screams and then a large smacking noise being made.

Both men looked at each other then drew they’re weapons.

Slowly turning the handle, since this wasn’t official police business, they went in silently. Living room was clear only some plates and cups needed putting away, hallway clear for now, kitchen was next as a cat -who was fast asleep- completely ignored them, checking the pantry, nothing, to the hallway was clear still. No upstairs to worry about. They made their way to the bedrooms clearing first Yuki’s then younger brothers, both need and immaculate, odd for anyone else other than the Yamamoto’s. Parent’s room was clear.

All that was left was the basement.

 Jordan on one side Donnie on the left he grasped the handle quietly and then gently opened it, oiled hinges let it swing open silently. Jordan was the first down the steps as he came upon the strangest sight he’d ever expected from the Yamamoto’s.

There was Yuki, but not in her normal school clothes, she was in a Karate uniform and she was blocking and blows from staffs and wooden swords with her own wooden sword, held in the proper samurai stance.

The whole family was in the same outfit and they all stopped and looked at the two intruders.

Yuki blushed profusely, and tried to pass her tone off as casual, “Oh hi Jordan” Then she noticed the gun in his hands. “Um what’s going on?”

While the Yamamoto’s entertained Donnie in their melee weapon armoury downstairs. Yuki and Jordan went up into her room to talk things over. While she changed he began talking, for once not caring about the fact that his girlfriend was getting naked not five feet from him.

“Well my dad’s a gun smith and he trained me and my sister to handle and fire most firearms from the time we were five. This one” he said lifting the unloaded gun in his hand, her looking over her shoulder as she switched out bras. “Was my first and I’ve got two more that are mine as well. My sister does firearms and tactical training for the military and private military corporations at their training facility in Montana. I mean I know a bit of basic hand-to-hand but probably nothing compared to you hon”

She sat down beside him, now wearing some shorts and a t-shirt, for once not caring how this made him look at her. “Jordan I guess it’s time for me to be completely honest with you...”

They were interrupted as Donnie came in without knocking. “Sorry to interrupt but your needed back at the house Jordan”

He looked to Yuki, “Do you want to come? You can tell me on the way”

She nodded, and her parents, who figured they might as well meet the other side of the family as well, got in a separate car and followed them.

“Jordan I’ve been trained in Karate since I was five, Tai Chi and Tai Kwan Do since I was eight Aikido and Maui Tai since I was ten. I can out fight most of the people in my dojo, which are those dancing classes I tell you I’m going to, and I’m an expert in most Samurai, Ninja weapons as well as Fencing, and I’m pretty good with most of the rest of the weapons at home. This would probably come as a shock to you if it wasn’t for a similar upbringing” She looked away a little embarrassed.

“Yeah no it’s still a shock, and those bruises you’ve been getting?”

She touched one on her arm, “Oh right those. I’ve been brushing up on my pain tolerance training. I don’t even notice them anymore”

He put his hand around her bruise and squeezed, hard, noticing for the first time, how strong she actually was. “Nothing?”

Shaking her head, “Nothing”

Once they got to the house Jen was waiting on the porch reading a book. When she looked up to see the entire Yamamoto family getting out of the cars her eyes widened and she opened to door and shouted for the family to join her.

The Yamamoto’s and Mason’s truly met that day.

Jordan showed Yuki their armoury and shooting range, while Jen her dad and mom showed the rest of the family, separately.

Yuki fired her first gun that night and Jordan got his first lesson in advanced hand-to-hand combat. After that night the Yamamoto’s and Mason’s became lifelong friends and were considered part of the family from there on out.

While both families, ironically enough, had only started this tradition with their parents they began teaching each other in the specifics of their trade three or sometimes four times a week.

Yuki and Jordan became very competitive in both the shooting range and dojo.

This made another activity between them very satisfying.

But from then on the Yamamoto’s and Mason’s, would be trained in both firearms and martial arts for years to come, although if they ever use them is left to the history books.

 

THE END


© Copyright 2017 Scout Allen. All rights reserved.

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