Adventures of the Assassins' House Mother

Chessa wasn't sure what she'd expected, but being shoved into a room full of strangers hadn't been it.

Before she could fully catch her balance, half a dozen guns were trained on her. Her hands immediately rose into the air, "Uh, hi, fellas."

They stared at her, hard, as she stood just inside the double doors, and for some reason the fact that the dangerous men in front of her somehow thought she might be a danger to them made her giggle.

To her delight, that seemed to make them even more concerned, and as a cowboy-looking man cocked his gun, her giggle turned into a full-on belly laugh.

A door opened on the other end of the room, and immediately the guns swung that way.

Into the room stepped a lithe, muscular, beautiful woman. She was drying her hands on a paper towel, and when her eyes took in the guns pointed at her, she pulled the paper towel down slowly, revealing the middle finger of her other hand.

All six men turned their attention--and guns--back to the once-again giggling Chessa.

That made the woman's attention shift as well, and an instant later, she sprinted across the room, "CHESSA!"

Chessa opened her arms and braced herself for impact as Gat's body collided with hers.

"OH MY GOSH, CHESSA I'VE MISSED YOU SOOOO MUCH!" Gat wailed loudly, squeezing the breath out of her.

"Missed...you...too," Chessa wheezed, but her soul was happy.

Gat pulled back, looking her up and down, "You've lost weight!"

"No, actually I gained five pounds," Chessa corrected, a blush rising into her face.

Gat shrugged, "It must be muscle, because girl, you look good. And does your being here mean you finally passed?"

"Uh, not the assassin's test, no," Chessa admitted quietly.

At Gat's questioning look, Chessa injected her voice with a lot more brightness and enthusiasm than she felt, "I was chosen to be your House Mother."

Gat looked at her seriously for a minute before her face slowly broke into a wide smile. Then she hugged her tightly again, screeching, "Ohmygosh! That's so perfect! That's right up your alley! Why'd we never think about that?!"

"Dunno," she mumbled against Gat's large breasts. Huh, no wonder guys liked this--they're comfy.

Gat pulled her back a second later, pivoting with her arm around Chessa to face the bewildered men.

"Fellas, this is Winchester, my oldest friend and our new House Mother!"

The guns disappeared as quickly as they'd been pulled.

A pair of twins gained their feet and approached followed by the rest. One looked like he'd walked out of a country living magazine, dressed in loose fitting jeans, t-shirt, and a baseball cap. The other looked like he'd fit in well as an extra in a surfing movie.

"I'm Smith," the surfer said, extending his hand.

"And I'm Wesson," the country boy grinned. "Guess we're kind of like your brothers, huh?"

"What are you even saying?" Gat demanded as Chessa shook the other twin's hand.

"Y'know," Smith said quietly, "because Smith and Wesson started Winchester."

"So, anytime you need anything, anything at all, you call on your big brothers," Wesson said with a sly grin.

"Oh, uh, thanks--"

"Move over, twincest. Nice to meet you. I'm Colt," the cowboy said, lifting his hat up ever so slightly with his index finger, eying her up and down. She as amused to note that his voice was anything but southern. If she had to place him, she'd say he probably came from around the Great Lakes.

"Nice to meet you, Colt," she said with a smile.

His grin widened, "Glad we're going to have another lady in the house. And If you're our new House Mother, I reckon that makes you my new MILF."

"Milf?" Chessa parroted blankly.

"Shut it, rhinestone cowboy," a man with a gruff northern accent--Boston? New York?-- said, using his body to move the cowboy along. He could have been pulled out of a mafia movie, but he was too handsome to have been a bad guy.

Before she could compose herself enough to say something the man nodded at her and held out his hand, "How you doing? I'm Ruger."

"Nice to--" but he was already moving back towards his seat.

To the side she heard Smith, Wesson, and Colt arguing about who was more country.

"Hallo," a tall, slender, geeky man said, thrusting his hand out, "I am Molotov. You may call me Molotov."

"Hello, Molotov," Chessa said warmly. Her face scrunched into a look of confusion, unable to place his accent, but Molotov never saw the look. No, his gaze had quickly moved from her to Gat.

Then, with a wistful smile Molotov turned and walked away, leaving her to face the final assassin she would be working with. His shoulders were broad, his hair the slightest bit touched with gray. He looked extremely serious, dependable. More than any of the others he looked ex-military.

"Barrett," he said simply, voice deep and gravely. With so few syllabus spoken, she couldn't quite place where the man was from.

He shook her hand once, dropped it, and returned to his seat.

"...about as country as Cowboy Troy," Wesson sneered.

"Well, you're about as country as Florida-Georgia Line!" Colt shot back.

Smith gasped in outrage then immediately reached out to hold back Wesson.

"Let's get this straight," Wesson said, pointing a menacing finger at Colt. "If anybody's bro-country around here--"

"Oh!" Gat said from beside her, "I love bro country!"

All three males froze, looked at each other with what could only be described as terror, and retreated back to their seats.

"Idiots," Ruger muttered, pulling out a book.

Barrett rolled his eyes, pulling out a whit rock to sharpen a very large knife.

Chessa heard Molotov whisper, "I love that woman."

Gat turned to Chessa and gave her a wink as she said quietly, "Same rules apply in a house full of assassins that apply on the streets: if you show men just a little of your crazy, they'll leave you alone."

Unless they're equally crazy, Chessa thought, glancing at Molotov from the corner of her eye; the man gazed at Gat like he was drowning and she alone could keep him afloat.

"So," Gat said eagerly. "What do you think of the boys? I've only been with them for a couple missions, but they're all pretty dependable."

"They're... interesting," Chessa finally settled on.

Gat leaned closer, waggling her eyebrows, "Any that you think are hot?"

Chessa's cheeks flamed, "Gat! I have a boyfriend!"

Gat looked at her intently, "If it's Simon, I swear--"

"It is," Chessa agreed defensively. "And that's my choice."

Gat sighed heavily, "I never understood what you saw in him... and as much of a chicken shit as he is, I'm surprised your dad didn't scare him off long ago."

"That's not very nice, Gat," Chessa chastised.

Gat shrugged, "I'm a straight shooter, you know that."

"Well," Chessa challenged, "what about you? Are you hot for any of them?"

Gat grinned, "Maybe."

Chessa's eyebrows rose, "Who?"

Gat shrugged, "When I figure out if I am or not, I'll let you know."