(A/n:
PLEASE READ THE FOLLOWING
I'm replacing the members of her team with their actual counterparts. Consider it a step towards the transition from fan fiction to the original in the future. So Doyle will become my Declan and Blake will become my Benedict.
Callaia will be going through some minor but profound changes in this rewrite. There will be less humor, her height will change, and her personality will SLIGHTLY. I'm doing this because when I started Wanderer it was my first book and I wasn't actually sure where I was going with it. It ended up being more humorous than I'd originally intended and in effect, damaged the story. There will still be humor but this book will be far more serious.
Her appearance will remain the same but I'm changing her height. I think I liked her being short a little too much for humor's sake and it is just all wrong. I realized when I pictured her she was more modelesque and taller. She's the soldier of the forgotten and those left behind. I don't see her short.
One last thing, I promise.
As I intend on publishing this series and the series has about fourteen books altogether AND I promised to finish this version first before I did publish: the 'books' will be shortened. As in I'm not doing the whole plot for each country. I'm going to shorten them to get the main points across and give you guys the love story with all 14.
I'd also like to confirm two of the guys in the OG harem for this story:
Nightshade and Declan.
They'll join the security team later on in the series of the original plot. In the security team, I will have a Russian, a strict rule follower, a rich kid like Calla, a level headed smart guy, and a diva type. I don't know who else will be in the harem and I don't know how they'll turn out yet or even what countries they'll originate from. For all I know she could save a guy and he'll join in too. I just know the dynamics I'll need to make this story what it needs to be. )
Ｔｏｋｙｏ， Ｊａｐａｎ
Rain pelts the asphalt in piercing icy bullets. Neon lights shimmer off the puddles, casting a modern glow on the rainy midnight sky. There are no stars here. Even when the rain clears, the stars have been erased by the light of man.
On the roofs, in the alleys, amongst the crowds hidden, are seven people. They dwell in the shadows, a few in plain sight, waiting for their leader to make the call to strike.
Shibuya Crossing is full of traffic, rampant lights beaming in chaotic formations as they scuttle. The streetlights turn yellow, all of them. All cars slow. When the lights turn red, all traffic comes to a halt and the infamous crossing becomes a surging horde of pedestrians filling the intersection from all sides.
A bulky man stands in the shadows of an alleyway looking up at the Starbucks across the street where their techie is sipping on a Frappuccino while he waits.
Grande. Caramel. Extra whip. Nonfat milk.
Hennessy must remain hidden until their leader makes the call. He's too obvious with his hulking frame of almost seven feet and muscles bulging out sickeningly. Scars mar his face and body. The most incriminating one being the unfinished Chelsea Smile at the right corner of his mouth, creeping up towards his ear.
A military hair cut, cargo pants, combat boots, and a grease-stained tank give off the vibe of someone who just left the battlefield. The thing about Hennessy, he never did leave. Not really.
He glowers up at their techie, Declan. The arrogant Irish slob is slouching for all to see as he taps away at his precious laptop. Declan is a mouthy bastard who chain-smokes worse than any of his old brothers in arms.
His brown hair falls to his neck in unkept waves. Those snarky grey eyes narrowing on his screen as he scratches his unshaven cheek in thought. He always looks like he hasn't shaved in a couple of days, often smells like he hadn't bathed in as long either. He's lanky and tall. Only his arms have any muscle and that's from lugging around his computers.
Hennessy turns to stare at the bench across the intersection where Gabriella sits prettily and at ease. Gabriella doesn't often join them on combative missions, preferring to use her sly tongue and mysterious intrigue to gather intel and recruits. She's merely here as a precaution, in case a distraction is needed. That'd typically fall to their boss or Benedict, but both are needed on the front lines this time.
Not much can be seen of Gabriella in her get up - a sultry black dress that clings to her olive skin and hangs off her shoulders in an enticing yet classy way along with a huge floppy black hat that hides most of her exotic face. That face has won wars before. Hennessy himself has fallen victim to her alluring smirk and butterscotch bedroom eyes. That Spaniard accent of hers doesn't hurt either.
He quickly looks away before the damn seductress can entice him into her claws again. She now has a couple of kids. Not to mention she's the boss's sister-in-law.
In a store window, a bit further down is Walter. He's hobbling along with his silver duck topped cane while scanning the items at leisure. He's a pleasant man with a gentle disposition, often seen as a father figure to the others. No one would second guess when they're told he's the boss. That's a farce, but kind of true as well. Their actual boss has a vendetta against paperwork and passes along the torch to Walter unless necessary.
Walter has known their leader longer than any of the others. Word has it that some serious shit went down in China when they were mere travel companions with the common goal of helping a small community. Apparently, it went downhill quick and together they built The Foundation from the ground up in honor of the horrors they went through and witnessed. They don't talk about it, but Declan did some digging.
Walter isn't that old, a few years over Hennessy's forty, but he'll walk with a cane for the rest of his days. A battle scar from that day long ago that's unspoken of. His grey streaked brown hair is brushed back from his face stylishly letting his kind green eyes scan without interruption. A black suit, he daily wears nowadays.
It's just as well the boss passes the torch to him so much. Walter use to be an investigative journalist. He has a knack for unearthing what needs to be unearthed and a way with words that grants the group diplomacy when needed. That's not exactly their leader's forte. She's more jump in first, ask questions later. She also tends to shoot first, which really puts a damper on the whole diplomacy thing.
Directly across from Hennessy, in an alley much like his, hides Benedict. Benedict is an alright fellow, or he would be if he'd quit being so optimistic and flirtatious all the damn time. He's a bit of a jack of all trades in the group, doing tasks as broad apart as saving the damsel to negotiating peace terms between two hostile communities. Negotiating is his strong suit though. He could convince a nun to buy a whore house. He takes full advantage of that British accent of his.
Sandy hair curls shortly on his head and his cerulean blue eyes glint at Hennessy as they pass over him. He's tan, though naturally pale, from all his expeditions in his favored continent, Africa. A beautiful man with a love for women all around, he's the male counterpart of Gabriella.
Hennessy turns his attention to the rooftops where the last two of their company hides, boss lady included. On the east side tower, high above all, crouches Nightshade. Even Hennessy can't catch sight of him though he knows he's there. Nightshade is an enigma to most of the group. None but their boss knows much about him. Only that he either refuses to or can't speak and that none have seen his face except for their leader.
He wears slim fitting and flexible leather armor at all times, black as night and perfectly fit for an assassin such as he. His entire head is covered in a full mask, hiding even the color of his eyes. Hennessy suspects he's from the orient because of his choice in weaponry, but really it's all speculation. He's not even sure if 'Nightshade' is his real name or just something he chose for his grotesque and morbid obsession with poisons.
Nightshade prefers only the boss for company. She alone he follows and obeys. For her, he kills without hesitation and slithers amongst the night to abide her biding.
Hennessy turns to the shorter tower across the way from Nightshade's haunt. It's where their boss lady is camping out. Callaia Sosa is a force to be reckoned with. Wild and untamed yet beautiful and loyal to a fault. No man, or Gabriella, under her command hesitates to follow her. She's reckless, her plans are often high risk, and she's relentless in her pursuits. Once Callaia sets her mind on something, it's a done deal.
That being said, each on their team will follow her to the ends of time. She gets them out alive every time with mostly successful results. She requires no worship or praise from her comrades like many leaders Hennessy has worked under, only to fight beside her just as fiercely as she does. She expects results yet doesn't fuss over the technicalities, always encouraging improvisation and ingenuity. She's the kind of woman a soldier would want at his side, to trust to have his back and pull through. She's the comrade a soldier in danger would never doubt to fight hellfire and an army to get them out alive, even if it means she'll take her last breathe doing so. She trusts her team and in turn, they trust her.
She's absolutely hopeless at paperwork though. Not very fond of diplomacy either. Or dogs. She has a weird thing about dogs none of them really understand.
Hennessy gets it. Well, he gets everything except the dogs. She's not ashamed to divvy out details about her life, wearing her worst parts as armor. She has good reason to be so guarded. She's exceptional at her talents though. He's never met another in all his military career with such an eye for hitting her mark.
When she aims, there's a dead man waiting at the other side of her singing bullet.
His ear piece crackles before the lady herself speaks," Everybody in position and at the ready?"
Her voice is resolute and unwavering, a sultry dulcet that soothes like satin snaking across Sahara sands. Hennessy can practically feel her pale icy blue eyes looking over his hideout before moving on to the other's positions.
"Aye." Declan drolls under his breath, his thick accent slurring his words. "Be nice ta have a fag though."
Benedict snorts, his cheery voice ringing heavily with his own accent," You smoke enough as it is."
"Fuck you." Declan bites out in a grumble. Callaia gets them back in line," Not the time guys. Benedict?"
"Awaiting your battle cry my lady."
"Walter?" She asks, voice low and steady.
"I'm ready when you are. I'll have to return for a suit from here. I've never seen such quality." Walter mumbles the last sentence to himself. Callaia chuckles, but the rest need no prompting to finish off a headcount.
Nightshade taps the mic twice, his silent acknowledgment of agreement. One for 'no', two for 'yes'. Gabriella slurs in that lovely way of hers," I'm ready, mi hermana."
Last, but not least, Hennessy grumbles," In position."
"Just a waiting game now guys," Callaia says to herself more than to the others.
The team awaits in the shadows, or in plain sight, driven by a cause no other organization has prioritized as they have, ever before. Their eyes, though nonchalant to outsiders, are honed in on the target's entrance to Shibuya Crossing.
Hennessy's shoulders tense when he catches Declan shooting up in his seat and hunching over his laptop like it told him he won the lottery. Clacking sounds off in all their earpieces. "He's here." Is all Declan says.
"Everyone, remember your positions and get ready!" The boss lady orders. Hennessy's lips twist in an abnormal way as he cracks his neck. This is the fun part, the part they all get off on. The part he was made for.
His eyes dart to each and every one on their team. Walter stares intensely out the storefront window with his hands resting on his cane that sits on the ground between in legs. Benedict rolls his shoulders as he steps out from the shadows of his alleyway, a smirk tugs on his lips. Gabriella stretches her arms out on the back of the bench, her head falls back as she stares right at the target. Her sunglasses slide down her nose giving Hennessey a nice peek at her lovely bedroom eyes. Declan leans forward in his seat, eyes narrowing out at the scenery beneath him as he hunches over his precious technology. He can't even guess where Nightshade is prowling.
Hennessy smirks up at the shorter tower where Callaia nests. Just faintly, he can make out a mane of white whipping in the wind and the glint of light on black metal as her barrel adjusts position. He can almost see that glint in her eyes she always gets right before shit goes down.
Fucking beautiful is what it is.
He'd follow her into hell if she asked him. She may be a shit paper pusher, but there's no better leader to be behind in situations like these. She was made to lead them.
She was made to fight, built for battle, born with rapid-fire in her blood.
🌐
Callaia narrows her ice blue eyes on the ground below. Traffic once again starts back, hordes of pedestrians already beginning to bulk up at the crosswalks. In a limousine further back in line, is none other than Matsumoto Tokimasa. A wealthy businessman who's been naughty in his spare time.
Matsumoto Tokimasa has been dabbling in a world he knows nothing about which will make him easy pickings. Callaia hopes Hennessey and Gabriella can get information out of him that'll lead them straight to the ring leaders of Japan's deeper crime ring. It's been something that has bit away at their pride for a while now. Japanese criminals are amazing evasionist apparently.
The chilled wind whips her platinum white hair in its ponytail as Callaia leans forward to look through her scope. Set upon a short tripod, the long sniper rifle shifts with her guidance until her scope hones in on the limousine. Her knee is starting to ache as it digs into the cement rooftop. Her other leg is bent up, putting all her weight on the knee on the ground.
A deep gravely voice, belonging to her tactical partner in crime, grinds in the ear pierce like death warmed over, " My knee is a'achin'."
She smirks as Declan and Benedict groan miserably. Gabriella scoffs. Callaia doesn't disregard his words though despite her amusement. His intuition for bad things to come has always been spot on. The one time they didn't listen nearly cost them everything, including their lives. Instead, she adjusts her scope again, scanning the area for problems to deal with. If the knee aches, then she wisely puts her guard up.
"When the knee aches, it means put on the breaks. Trouble is a'knockin on our door." Hennessey grumbles lowly. Gabriella drolls out lazily as the other two groan louder, " Mi Hermana, I love you, I do, but this oaf you insist on dragging around is defective."
Sensing a fight on the horizon, Callaia diffuses the situation before it destroys their hard work and plans. Months have been spent on this mission. Long nights of recon and days full of hunching over the table in the headquarters boardroom, all for this one night. With a sultry voice, she cuts off any dispute to be with ice dripping from her words, leaving no room for argument, " Enough. Hennessey's knee has saved our asses more times than I can count. It'd be stupid to ignore his warning."
Taking her own advice as those four quietly bicker amongst themselves, she scopes out the surrounding area with keen eyes. The barrel of her rifle treads beneath her sights as she whips it around. Her knee that digs into the rooftop burns as the skin is twisted raw. She ignores it, embracing the familiar pain, loving how it sends fire through her one leg.
It's an association to her, one that means she's about to jump into battle.
The limousine eases through Shibuya Crossing. Callaia keeps her scope on her mark, not letting it out of her sight. Just across the way is a bar, busy and bustling, and that's where the limo parks. The driver hurries out, scrambling to open the door. The door is shoved open, knocking the air out of the poor driver. Callaia watches as the driver tries to get back on his feet. Before the asshole can even leave the limo, she gives the signal, " Gabriella, you're up."
A husky chuckle answers her in a purr, " With pleasure."
Callaia smirks, still keeping a watchful eye on their expected guest, " Benedict, Hennessey, watch her back. You know the drill."
They better know it by now, she thinks. Kick ass or die trying, but if it looks like someone will die - yank their ass out and scram.
Or something like that. It tends to change each mission. They've never really been the type to follow rules anyhow.
Callaia confirms their target's identity before moving her scope over to watch her three comrades pursue. Her finger twitches on the trigger as she watches Gabriella waltz into the bar with a flutter of her eye lashes, Benedict behind her in the line, and Hennessey disappearing into the shadows of an alleyway to enter through the back entrance.
She gets this anxious feeling, a deep pit in her gut, every time one of her own enters the frey. She knows they're capable, damning the rules in favor of victory just as she does, but that doesn't stop that twisting feeling in her chest from appearing every time they go in. It doesn't stop the fear that, under her command, under her orders, they won't come out alive.
Scoping out the area, she notes a couple of bodyguards lingering nearby.
Swallowing down her anxiety, Callaia whispers into the earpiece, " Nightshade."
A gust of breathe is all the acknowledgement she receives as her silent warrior slips into the darkness to do her bidding.
She murmurs for him alone as she scouts out the targets for him, " Two in the rear alley. One leaning against a storefront on the opposing side. One on the bench. Two by the limo."
Walter and Declan quietly wait with her while they listen for Nightshade's confirmation.
When it comes a chill zaps through her heart. It's the same as before when three of their own vanished from sight. Except now, she's sending in an offense instead of a decoy with backup. She's sending in her shadow, her silent rock, to his possible death.
She refuses to let it come to that. Not to him.
She aligns her scope up with Nightshade, only able to pinpoint him from the shadows he hides in from years of working together so closely.
" Take them out." she orders.
(a/n: Check out my profile to see my post on Wanderer 2.0. Got some fun stuff to tease you guys with. 😂)