Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne
My eyes fluttered open and drifted drunkenly about the room, trying to focus, but unable to. Tattered rags hung from a steel rod in a futile effort to stop the sun from making an entrance. The light splashed across the spartan style room, its only furnishings a trunk, a small desk and a military style cot. Whitewashed floors and ceilings reflected the light back, causing a brightness that you could see through closed lids.
I rose finally and rubbed my face, throwing the thin sheets off and stumbling to the chest. My dirty sweats came off and I put on a pair of jeans, my only ones, and a t-shirt with a shield covered in a grim skull. It was my calling card. The sigil of all the assassins of section 2. The shirt stretched as it came over my head, then relaxed as it settled on my shoulders.
I threw the sweats on the bed, not really caring where they went. I would worry about it later. Inspection was at midnight. Still eighteen hours away. I slipped on my old running shoes and opened the thick wooden door. It always amazed the precautions they took to protect us, and then they treated us like dirt. Hardly seemed logical.
I ran down the steps to the down stairs lobby and pushed the door open. The dry voice of a reporter filtered out into the warm mountain air before the door shut again:
"Weather seems to be pretty nice this Sunday morning. There's a ten percent chance of rain later on in the day, but it should stay sunny all the way through."
The lounge was almost as empty as my room, but much larger. There was a TV in one corner and a semi circle of couches arrayed around it. A target for throwing knives stood in the other, it was currently occupied by a you boy failing to hit the center. The tocks of the knife slamming the target echoed about the room, momentarily interrupting the chatter coming from the TV.
I slipped a knife off the table behind the kid and tested the weight. I waited for his next throw, then launched the knife over his shoulder. The blade glinted in the dim light of the room then slapped into the board, and stood quivering from the handle of the knife.
He turned to me, "How did you do that?"
I grinned, "Aim for the middle."
Laughter came from the couches, and the boys face fell.
"Leave the kid alone, Des, we have the day off, let him do what he wants."
I walked over to the voice, "Sure Sky, I just dont see why anyone would practice today."
A smile slipped onto my face as I vaulted over the couch. I bounced on the cushions, the news of a good day still rising.
"So, looks like we finally get some sunshine on the day off, and don't worry about the new guy, he hasn't been here long. Give him a year and he'll learn." she replied.
I looked over at Sky, the smile growing a little more. Finally having sunshine after six days of rain was probably making her feel a little more chipper than usual. "Yeah."
*take it from there. Its only half decent, Im still trying to find out who my character really is, so i may be all over the place for a while.*
Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne
"I- Hate- You- So- Much- right- Now-," Faye's breathing was stilted, her eyes near to bloodshot focusing on the large man on the ground.
"It's not my fault you suck at hand to hand combat," Charles flipped a page of the magazine he was reading.
"How the hell does this deal with hand to hand?!" Faye questioned, "It's my friggen day off!"
"That's why it's forty three pounds lighter than it should be," Charles threw the magazine at the large load and the short girl struggled to keep it from crushing her, "It's also good for focus, which you seem to lack."
"Ok so I accidentally forgot to tell you that your white shirt was now a pretty purple- so kill me!" Her arms were straining keeping them straight above her head.
"It was magenta," He tapped the weights and they fell off at what would have made Galileo want to rewrite his gravity theory, "And it isn't about that."
"Sure," Faye couldn't put her arms down they were too strained, "Bye now." Faye ran out of the training deck and towards the building with the kitchen, her stomach was in frenzy and don't forget, her arms were parallel with her head.
"Hi guys!" She ran past Des and Sky and into the open kitchen, "Did I mention that I hate my life?" Faye's face had a larg smile spread across it.
The one who smiles the most has something to hide.
..i'm lonely...message me..some how add me on your social networking site (unless you are some creepy weirdo who stalks girls for their organ harvesting company..i personally like them inside of me thankyou )
I struggled keeping up with him. Dimitri had insisted on training today, even though it was supposed to be every one's day off. I kept dodging punches and kicks, but I couldn't hardly get any in myself, he was so fast! Finally, he landed a solid punch in the center of my chest, knocking me over. As I landed, he put himself on top of me, making it so I couldn't get up.
He grinned, and I stared up at him, still trying to catch my breath. He finally got off of me, and pulled me up. "You really need to get better at the whole hand to hand combat thing, Olva."
"Shut up." I mumbled. "Can I go now?"
He sighed, irritated that I didn't want to listen, but he nodded, and I ran out, seeing everyone. "Hey, guys."
"Had to train. Its disgusting. Its the only day we get off all week!"
I laughed, "Yeah, tell the new kid that."
"What's he doing?"
"Throwing knives."
"Idiot."
Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne
"Hey, knives are pretty cool if you ask me." I said crossing my arms. "Don't dis them just cause you can't play with them." I got up and walked over to the guy.
"I can out throw you any day." Des said as I looked back at him.
"Right, if you say so." I took the knife from the boy and turned it over.
"Hold it here, and flick your wrist harder. You want your hand to be pointing at your target after you let go of the blade." I said as I showed him. I then turned and looked at Des crossing my arms. "Least I can give better advice anyway." I walked back over to the couch and jumped on the coach and smiled. I was in a good mood today, it wasn't raining anymore thank goodness.
Hermione, shut your ungodly, lopsided mouth and quit interrupting! 20 points from Gryffindor. You know, for the brightest witch of your age you can sure be a dumba** sometimes. *smiles* 10 points to Dumbledore!
Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne
It was his day off, and so Byron was ‘entitled’ to oversleep. On the other hand, it was a pleasant morning, and Byron was in the mood for a run. Thus, he slipped out of his window, fingers and feet finding purchase anywhere they could on his climb down the side of the wall, and set off at a brisk pace.
His artificial lungs and years of training had made him far fitter than any non-agent his age, and he relished the freedom of being able to enjoy the first day of sun in a while – and away from Anton, at that.
Byron spent a good, long while running before finally returning to the house, immediately taking the stairs. The walls, he noticed as always, were just as bereft of photographs as the every other wall in the house. Not a sign that anyone at all lived here. No suggestion that the government’s little pet monsters could be at all normal, such as might have been suggested by any of the photos of Byron at sports games or family outings that might still feature on the walls of where he had once lived.
Upstairs, Byron could hear voices coming from the lounge, and the sounds of the weather report on the television. He paused just outside, then stepped in, “Morning, everyone.”
Desmond glanced at him, “Oh, hey Byron. Where’ve you been?”
“Overslept.” He replied, without skipping a beat. Desmond looked over what he was wearing, raised an eyebrow at the shorts, sneakers and t-shirt. Byron quickly amended his answer, “Then Anton made me go for a jog.”
He had decided to live forever or die in the attempt. - Yossarian, Catch-22
Wide-eyed stupid.
If you're gonna rule the world, you've gotta get up early! - Joel S. Dickens
Hey, d'you mind if I join. I'll post a profile but if you don't want a bigger group then that's cool. But just in case ...
Name: Ashley Dessen (Ash)
Age: 17
Time with the Agency: 7 years
Gender: Female
Appearance(if a pic, try to use a real person): She is tall, slim and muscular. her hair is dark brown and cut quite short for practicality reasons, she hates it getting in her eyes. Her skin is very tanned because she loves the sun. Ash's eyes are a bright, piercing green.
Personality: Ash is very sarcastic, mostly she means this in a funny way, but occasionally uses it sharply. With her friends at the agency she is funny and kind. But with those she doesn't like she can be rude and quite cruel.
History: She was given to the agency by her parents when she was ten years old. They didn't want her, she didn't want them and they thought it suited them all. She doesn't talk about her parents at all.
Preferred Weapon/Method: She has two knives constantly at her belt. But her favourite is hand to hand combat, she is one of the best at the agency.
Other: Her trainer is Alex, they are quite close as they share similar personalities although this does mean they get into fights. Up for love
"It is curious how often you humans manage to obtain that which you do not want."
Skylar smiled as she looked at him. "I think I'm the only one that didn't have to work today." She smiled.
"What have I told you about counting your chickens before they hatch?" She heard Nick ask from behind her. She groaned and turned around. "Come on."
"Nope, day off." She replied with a smile. His eyes narrowed as he looked at her.
"Skylar."
"Please, Nick!" She stuck her lower lip out in a pout and he crossed his arms.
"Theres a reason I'm your handler, lets go." He replied. She growled and jumped over the couch walking over to him. "It's just a boxing match for thirty minutes."
"Joy." She frowned. He laughed and shook his head.
**She'll be back soon. YOu can bring her back in if you want**
"Hey does anyone ese want anything?" Faye's voice echoed through the small military style like kitchen, "I'm making alot..of well everything."
Faye stared at her mess, she was hungrier than she thought.
*sorry! just thought I'd ring her in somehow......*
The one who smiles the most has something to hide.
..i'm lonely...message me..some how add me on your social networking site (unless you are some creepy weirdo who stalks girls for their organ harvesting company..i personally like them inside of me thankyou )
so, Ive got an idea for a plot, but it might be had to stick with, and it mind end pretty quickly, so im open for ideas, so if you have any just shoot em out.
Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne
The thing about plummeting downhill at fifty miles an hour on a snack platter - if you realize it's a bad idea when you're halfway down, it's too late. — Rick Riordan, The Son of Neptune
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