The Laptop, the Run-away, and a Long Story.

Dinnertime. , an awesome time of day, but not so awesome to read about. So as long as I’m trying to stick something in this space, it might as well be my story. Now this story only makes sense if I start it out right around the time after my mom died and my dad remarried, but first ya gotta know what my dad and my, stepmother were like. My dad was a cool guy, who taught me nearly everything I know about engineering, and the likes, except for hacking, most of my computer knowledge came from my mom. We owned a private airfield in a spacious, but secluded area of South Carolina. The whole family loved to fly and an annual airshow was held at our field every year. Dad was a member of the RDF during the war with the Zents. He would always wear his flightsuit whenever he flew. My mom died when I was turning ten from an air accident, we’re still not sure what happened, but the moment we found mom and the plane, my dad set the self destruct sequence on it. I don’t think he actually wanted to know what happened, and for several months after that I don’t think he completely registered that it did happen. Two years later, my dad met a woman, I still refuse to say her name, and I will always refuse to acknowledge her as my mother. She hardly ever let me fly, and kept me away from a lot of things that didn’t involve housework, I think I would’ve gone mad if my brother hadn’t of been there to help me get into planes and my hands on some technology. She tried to work the tomboy out of me, and in the end, she failed. My dad, during this time still seemed to be off in a dream world, where this woman was my mother. Unfortunately, Hikari got mixed up in it all. The two of us where so close everyone thought we were sisters (even if I did always have the urge to strangle her). Her mother died and we had no idea where her father was (Fathers sure were reliable in my younger years), so we took poor Kari in. She quickly became a skilled pilot, and, like me, became fascinated with VFs, for different reasons of course. Kari had developed a liking for the self destruct systems, and when I finally managed to get one installed in an old 20th century fighter, she would set the timed self destruct sequence to see if I could stop it in time. The day I got myself into the RDF (I swear I was never interested in joining up ‘cause my passion was 20th century fighters and spy planes), I was showing off a new stunt to my brother, when she-who-steals-fun showed up. I had just landed and was laughing along with my cousin and brother. That woman grabbed my arm, hard enough to bruise, and started shouting at me in French, so my brother and cousin didn’t know what was going on. I yelled for dad, and he walked over to us, leaving the Tomcat, he had rescued, behind. “What’s the problem?” He asked with an oblivious idiotic smile on. I explained the situation to him. “She won’t let me fly, says it’s not lady-like or sum’in. I can’t stand it, I don’ wanna be one of those women who depend entirely on their husbands, like the ones that come to the airshow. “And for crying out loud let go of my arm. Ya trying to leave a mark or sum’in?” I yanked my arm out her grasp, she was strong for being a stuck up girly-girl. And of course being the suck-up that she was, she started complaining about how I was so cruel to her, and how she just wanted me to be safe, and the like. My dad believed her and tried to talk some ‘sense’ into me. I wasn’t buying it, and started to back away from them. My dad tried to stop me but I sidestepped him and ran off in the direction of the motorcycles we were working on. The last thing I said to my dad, and that woman was goodbye. They of course didn’t realize that I was never going back My dad and I had been working on a 1999 Harley Davidson 883 Sportster custom before mom died, it sat in a dark corner of the workshop after that terrible day. It was in great condition, the chrome plating looked great, the engine could’ve used a tune up and the bike needed a new paint job, but otherwise it was fine. My favourite bikes where Japanese Suzuki’s, The 1998 TL1000R, not the best looking bike, but my added features made it awesome for speed and stealth, The 2000 Katana GSX 750 looked great and could reach alarmingly high speeds after I was done with it I even changed the color from red to a dark purple and black, and my 2002 Suzuki Vstorm, I didn’t get a chance to complete my work on it. I chose my Katana 750, my cousin, brother and I nicknamed it Kat, because we all agreed the engine purred like a kitten. I was getting ready to leave when my bro and Hikari walked in to say a final goodbye. My brother handed me a backpack with the laptop my mom and I built and a few other important items. With a final wave, I activated a stealth shield on my bike and launched off. I knew if I got caught I’d be in huge trouble. I remember thinking as I was leaving the airfield, It’s not fair that my brother can get away with anything ‘cause he’s male, and that she-who-must-not-be-named like Kari ‘cause she’s always messin’ around with self destruct system and can be persuaded to do anything. The first place I thought of stopping at was an RDF recruitment center, but the gents there drove me nuts, I did remember one recruitment poster though, the Shadow Squadron one. After a long journey, I stopped off at a bar where I ran into one of the members of the squadron, whose poster caught my attention, a Lt. Cmdr Specialistsubject. He soon had me convinced to join up, and I did just that. “Gp…” Called a present day Hikari in a singsong voice, as she waved her hand in my face, “What'cha thinkin’ about, you’ve got your ‘flashback face’ on.” I laughed, “Remember the day on the airfield, the one where I ran away?” “Yeah…”