Young Writers Society

Eric Braxton

Basics
Gender: Male
Age: 28, about 29
Role: Field Agent Leader

Appearance
Looks: He has a full head of thick, long, black hair and bangs that can cover his eyes if he doesn't carefully care for them. His eyes are hazel with heavy tints of blue and brown but less green on the inside. Generally, however, he wears dark sunglasses over his eyes, especially when he's out on missions. His skin tans easily and he's about a permanent shade darker than most other people. He is a very big and muscular man who carries himself in a dark, almost reclusive sort of way. Most of his clothes come in the colors black, white, or gray.
[Mask: His mask most closely resembles that of a captain, even though his technical rank is about that of a husk. The eyes are a dark gray that look more and more black with less light around. There's a jagged line that stretches over the sealed white lips that goes down the chin and over the edge of the mask, courtesy of Hunter. Also, his mask does not possess the magical properties of the other Splinter masks so it does not enhance his powers and anyone can pull it off if he is not careful with it.]

Personality
Usual: Eric is a calm character who knows how to use the few words he speaks to the fullest. He's one more likely to lead by example rather than inspirational speeches. Overall, he's very serious, sometimes too serious in the context of hanging around friends, but he's not necessarily cold and distant. He always appears and act like he is neatly put together and he keeps his emotions separated from most of his everyday life.
Exceptions: Whenever he's on jobs for Splinter, he's a lot quicker to anger because he's just jumpy and jittery and nervous because he fears getting caught from anyone in DAI and ruining his reputation. Also, he's often more tuned into the energy of himself and others, which makes him uncomfortable. It makes him feel more like Splinter than DAI. On the flip side, around Trinity he's a little less serious and closed off emotionally, even if he's still not a hopeless romantic sweetheart. Perhaps just a bit more caring and endearing.
Habits: Whenever he's unsure of what to say, he pulls his fingers through his hairs rather roughly.

Extra
Possessions: A silver pendant of what could be called "The Life Tree" that is always worn.
Teammates: Trinity, Amelia, Shay, Shawn

History
He grew up in the heart of Splinter's rise. Fortunately for him and his family, he lived in a smaller, much more insignificant town that was never targeted by Splinter in the first few years where they destroyed large cities and slaughtered outspoken activists against influence. Though, a good portion of his childhood was dominated by fear. Fear from his family, fear from himself, fear from the outside world crumbling. It came as a shock that the country managed to hold its own for so long after such a devastating few years.

While he didn't really know it at the time, both he and his father had some semblance of influence. Since he was born with it, it never occurred to him that his slight extra ability to feel the universe around was either abnormal or the evil magic that everyone talked about. But when he was around seventeen, he watched his father being dragged away by some members in Splinter recruiting members. They killed his mother and little sister, but since he'd utilized his ability to sense the attackers, he was able to survive.

He suspects his father is currently still in Splinter, but he hasn't been able to figure out who.

Afterwards, he dropped out of school and enrolled in an academy recruiting for the DAI. It was there that he found a place of his own, a place where he was supported. He never talked much about what brought him there, or much at all, far too scared he was going to say the wrong thing. But he still excelled and eventually found a group that he worked well with. They're his partners to this day.

[last updated: March 21st, 2017]

The Leader

Basics
Gender: Male
Age: Unknown
Rank: Leader (Phase Six)

Appearance
Looks: No one, not even admirals, know what he really looks like behind the mask. He never takes it off and he guards his appearance so no one is able to sense it. It's oddly unnerving how anonymous he is, even to his own people. He is always wearing the same dark black suit, which almost looks like a second skin. He wears white gloves and a silky black cape as well.
Mask: His mask is white with golden eyes and big, red lips. The mouth is left opened with a wide, creepy smile and it moves when he speaks.

Personality
Usual: While he is a powerful force, he is not often a cruel dictator of sorts. He is quite responsible with his abilities and can peacefully deal with any issues that come up simply by (fairly) gently reminding a member who is Master. He prefers silent intimidation rather than downright threats when he can help it. Also, the majority of the plans and raids are organized by the Leader, but he works well with his admirals to fool proof operations before acting them out full scale with all the grunts.
Exceptions: He has moments of blindingly brilliant rage. Terrifying moments. When he takes discipline into his own hands, its scarily painful since he has abilities that most people cannot even fathom. These moments are rare and are often directed towards powerful admirals that challenging him or captains who advance too quickly. There are also some members that he straight up does not like, who never last long in the higher positions.
Habits: He has the tendency to sporadically disappear from the base and sometimes reappear at random times/in random places. His entrance is almost never announced beforehand.

Extra
Admirals: Grey, Cobalt, Blaine

[last updated: March 13th, 2017]

-- 18+ warning for language --


The walls of my bedroom were rattling, and with my mind wedged in the space between dreaming and consciousness, I could not tell if it was real. My head was throbbing. Though my eyes were still heavy with sleep, I forced them open to investigate the sudden pounding that joined in the cacophony. All that surrounded me was darkness, not even a hint of sunlight struggling through the thick curtains over the windows. What time was it?

The pounding came to a sudden stop, taking with it the rattling and making way for another noise. An agitated voice yelled, “Trinity!” Was that someone at the door? I blinked to adjust my eyes to the darkness, squinting to make out the frame of my bedroom. Strange, the door was wide open despite how I distinctly remembered closing it before I crawled into bed.

Then, the pounding started again, and my mind was finally able to process it as a fist beating at the front door, begging to be let in. I let out a groan before I pushed my covers onto the floor and stumbled out of bed. The voice yelled my name again. In my haste, I slammed into the table that separated the front foyer from the rest of my apartment. I inhaled through clenched teeth and fought back a string of expletives as pain exploded in my side. This better be important.

My hand reached out into the darkness, fumbling for anything to hold on to. But the end of the foyer was closer than anticipated, and my knuckles knocked into the metal door. I fumbled for the knob and threw it open. A flood of lights from the hall immediately blinded me.

“Damn it, Trinity,” a fuzzy figure said, his familiar voice gravelly and tired. “I’ve been calling you nonstop for the past half hour.” I blinked my eyes, rubbing them to adjust them to the light. As my vision cleared, the face of a furious William greeted me.

“What time is it?” I muttered.

He invited himself inside and flipped a switch. Another light burst to life. “Almost 1:45 am. I had to drive all the way over here to drag your ass out of bed.”

Outside, I could hear people from the neighboring apartments grumbling. Some of them shot me nasty looks when I peeked outside. I mouthed an apology before retreating into the tiny foyer, closing the door behind me. William had made some progress into my apartment, turning on more lights in the kitchen.

Agitation seeped into my voice as the grogginess that clouded my thoughts receded. “What the hell is going on?”

He snapped his head, giving me an intense glare as waves of anger just radiating off him. “If you’d f***ing answered any one of my calls, you’d know six agents just died two hours ago.” An electric silence of shock surged through me as I gaped at him. Six? Dead? Two hours?

“What? Who?” The words left my mouth before I could even feel my lips moving.

He turned from me with a cold hardness, dodging the question. “So you just need to hurry and get geared up so we can go to the scene. Now, where’s Eric?”

“Huh? He’s not in the room?”

William walked over to my bedroom. “Hey, Eric, you in there?” When the only response he received was silence, he looked at me with a large scowl sprawling across his face.

I crossed the space to the bedroom and peered into the darkness, only to see the heap of blankets on the floor from when I’d gotten up. No one else was in the bed. I pursed my lips and tiptoed into the room, as if I expected him to be hiding. He was definitely beside me when I fell asleep, and there was no way he got up in the night; he was too noisy, too heavy footed, and he always stepped on the loudest floorboard. Where could he have gone? When? If it was only one am—

“We don’t have all night, Trinity,” William growled.

I spun around to look at his shadowed outline in the doorway. “He was here a few hours ago.” When had I fallen asleep?

“Whatever,” he huffed. “Just get your uniform on and let’s go.” He clicked the light on and left.

Creating my own scowl, I stomped over my discarded sheets and headed towards the right corner of the room. The closet door creaked in protest as I threw it open and gathered a few hangers pressed against the right wall. Then, I ran into the little bathroom connected to the room.

The uniform consisted of a pair of padded tan cargo pants, a pitifully thin white t-shirt, and a bulletproof vest labeled DAI on the back in bright yellow letters. I grabbed my pair of thick artillery boots, worn at most three times and now discarded in the corner of the bathroom. Above those was a towel rack holding my weapon belt. The belt was shiny and new, stocked with two handguns and an assortment of knives. Once I’d suited up, I grabbed a black hair tie from a bowl and charged back into the heart of the bedroom.

I rushed to a desk across the room. My phone and earpiece were set on the edge beside two half opened boxes of bullets. Without even turning on my phone, I shoved it into my belt and stuck the small device in my ear, pressing a tiny button to hear an electronic voice say, “16 missed calls from William.” This was why I typically slept with my earpiece in. Why did I decide to take it out tonight?

I didn’t have to check the ammunition in my guns; I knew they were still loaded.

William waited in the living room, shifting his weight and fidgeting with his hands as he moved them in and out of his lab coat pockets. The moment he saw me, his face gave me a look that said, “Took you long enough.” Once I was in reach, he grabbed my hand to pull me to the door. As I was dragged out of my apartment, my last thought was that he left all the lights on and the front door unlocked.

After a few steps, I gained my footing and joined him in jogging to the door marked “Exit.” The stairwell echoed with our violent footsteps as we sprinted down two flights. When we burst through the lobby, the doorman snapped his head in our direction and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something. Probably more complaints, or maybe something about the fact that William’s car was flashing its lights brilliantly in front of the door. But he didn’t have a chance as we ran past.

Chapter 2.2 (Trinity)

[last updated: September 29th, 2018]

Once we’d slammed the doors shut and William shifted the car into drive, I asked, “Okay, what is going on?” The siren blared to life with a high pitched wail as he slammed on the gas and turned around in the street.

“I sent you a brief with a video in it,” he said. “I’ll explain more after you see it.” His voice was tense, mimicked by his white-knuckled hands as he gripped the steering wheel. His eyes concentrated on the road blurring past him, but traffic was minimal at this hour.

I did as he instructed and pulled my phone from my belt, powering it on with a quiet click. A sprawl of messages invaded the screen as it lit up, half of them more notifications of the missed calls and the other half frantic messages from William. I scrolled up the lockscreen and found an email with an attachment titled Important.

The scanner read my fingerprint, and the same voice as earlier chimed in my ear, “Welcome, Agent Axali.” Then, the contents of the file faded into view. There was a video that appeared to be surveillance footage and several documents on a woman named Margaret Boyd.

“Who’s Margaret Boyd?” I asked. The files were what I was used to seeing when dealing with a particular civilian: personal history, criminal background, some health records.

“Forber needs you to interrogate a woman,” he said, bluntly.

“Is that why you’re not wearing a uniform?”

His scowl deepened. “Just watch the video.”

I tapped on the video, and the screen dimmed significantly, settling on an image of a dark cellar with a large mass of people crammed into it. My heart sank. The resolution wasn’t great, but from the white splotches contrasting against the dark room, I noticed that every person on the left of the screen was wearing some form of a Splinter mask, most of them Class One. It had to be some kind of rally, from the location to the people down to the masks.

“Ugh, more Splinter creeps, again,” I groaned. “We haven’t had an incident with violent rallies in a long time. How could they take down six of our guys, thought?”

William didn’t comment on that, instead giving me more instructions.“Just pay attention to the empty space.”

Two people stood out in the crowd. One was a man wearing a Class Three mask on a raised platform against the wall, making him a likely candidate for the leader. The other was a young woman standing just on the end of the audience, teetering on the edge of the wide empty space William was talking about. On the other side of it, three agents hovered over a dead man’s body and guarded the only apparent exit, each raising their guns into the crowd.

The video started. The center agent stumbled backwards for no apparent reason. Her finger brushed against the trigger and the gun fired, bullet barrelling toward the young woman. The video was slowed so I could see each frame of its journey into the room. Three other guns went off, the sound of their shots warped and distorted in my ear. I counted four bullets.

Another frame later, and there were none.

A brilliant light flashed in a fraction of a second, and those four shattered into hundreds of individual shards that moved ten times faster than the whole projectile had. The shrapnel tore through each agent’s bulletproof vest like they were made of cloth, fatally impaling them. The footage stuttered as each person crumbled to the ground. The young woman stood motionless in her position, unphased by the gruesome display that occured before her.

My breath caught in my throat, and I couldn’t remember what relief felt like. I couldn’t recognize any of the bloodied faces through this tiny screen, but I just kept staring at them. Like that, so easily gone.

But the video wasn’t over. Movement fluttered in the screen, a precursor to the burst of motion displayed by the man on the platform. He leapt from his position and charged through the crowd. His destination was a faint outline in the back wall, which was apparently a disguised exit intended for a quick getaway in a situation like this. The young woman turned around, but before she had the chance to give pursuit, a third person charged after him. Within seconds, the three of them were gone, leaving a completely bewildered crowd.

My heart was racing, and I was experiencing a fear I hadn’t felt in a long time. It was the kind of fear that curled up in my chest and shriveled up my lungs so that I could only breathe darkness, something so deep and severe that even after months of feeling safe, I felt like I couldn’t be comforted again. Splinter was on the move again.

I looked out into the dimness of the car again. “Who?” I managed to mumble, the words almost drowned out by the sound of the siren.

“Hmm?” William swerved into the opposite lane to get around a taxi driving too slow and refusing to move aside, making a mental note of the license plate. The passing streetlights highlighted his serious facial expression, the heaviness of tonight’s case sinking in.

“Who was killed?” I repeated.

He took a shaky breath. “The party was made up of Miller, her team, and two from Jayden’s. It’s awful to lose them so suddenly.”

“That was all six?” My eyes flashed back to the video, trying to refocus on the lifeless faces still lying in the entrance. “There were four bullets, and I only saw three–”

“Miller was the first to fire, a mistake, and her three followed. Jayden’s were still lingering in the back of the hall. I couldn’t tell you why they were so clumped. They could’ve been out poking around the warehouse or just keeping watch in the alley.” My stomach was already upset with the insane driving, but the frustration emanating from William and the heavy news only added to the issue.

As the shock subsided, I moved through the video frame by frame in hopes to get a good look at her mask, but all I could see was a while blob and closed eyes, the inherent characteristics of Class One. Only that wasn’t possible.

“She was pretending to be in the rally,” I concluded, “but she couldn’t have been.” I tapped my nail against the screen, momentarily forgetting that William was too preoccupied driving in order to see who I was referring to.

But he caught on anyway. “I say she’s a Class Three with a lower lackey, but there’s so much we don’t know from just this snapshot. Like how platform guy knew they were coming for him next.”

“The way she shattered those bullets to kill six at once tells me she must be Class Four, which means bad news outside of tonight.”

William nodded. “Which leads right back to what Forber is putting you up to. We rounded up some witnesses from the rally, most of whom were unhelpful and clueless. But one woman, who is particularly uncooperative and aggressive, seemed to know a lot more than she was letting on. Somehow.”

My mind felt like it was spinning. This was all so sudden with so many unrelated threads spinning together that lead to even more unanswered questions. How did a sympathizer know anything? Why wasn’t anyone notified of the bust to get there sooner?

And there had been no mention of Eric in all of this. So where was he?

I forced myself to swallow. “What do I need to find out?”

“Forber wants to talk to you about it first and he’ll better brief you on the task,” he replied. “Something about the other two I think.”

Chapter 2.3 (Trinity) - TBE

[last updated: September 29th, 2018]

NOTE: There was a tiny change to the events of chapter one. It's been indicated in the Chapter One Summary.



Yeah, this is going to be rewritten too. Don't bother reading it.


//editing notes

LOCKED DATE: April 26th, 2017
[last updated: April 2nd, 2017]

This is a place holder for chapter 2.4 when I come back to it. For this week's submission, I will be writing 3.1 instead. (My plan is to rewrite chapter 2 completely and then write the ending of it. However, it does not directly lead into chapter 3 so I feel comfortable skipping it and moving on to something I'm more interested in writing.)

Place holder for the chapter 2 summary, which I will be writing up when I have more time. Just so it doesn't get lost in the middle of chapter 3.

Because I'm obsessed with organization, I felt it would be important to put the profiles of characters that showcase in chapter 2 before chapter 3. I just don't have the time to write them up before I write 3.1 tomorrow. This would be for Trinity.

Explained in the post above. <.< This would be for Forber. (I'm going to try to have this up by midweek next week!)

And this will be William's spot. Eventually (sorry, I'm obsessed with organization.)

You know, some day I'll stop writing these at midnight. And they'll stop sucking.



[next chapter link when it's posted]


//editing notes

LOCKED DATE: TBA
[last updated: April 9th, 2017]

I'm questioning why I'm still writing this ._.



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//editing notes

LOCKED DATE: TBA
[last updated: April 16th, 2017]

This may be a direct contradiction to last part but I'm kind of very meh right now. Just three more weeks.



[next chapter link when it's been rewritten]


//editing notes

LOCKED DATE: TBA
[last updated: April 30th, 2017]

I just realized that I accidentally overwrote this part with that of last week so I'll just post this again. Not that it's any good.



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//editing notes

LOCKED DATE: TBA
[last updated: April 23rd, 2017]

I'm still counting down the weeks until I can finally rewrite all of this and make it actually good! But, just a small warning that the content of this may be a bit iffy. It's not graphic or particularly mature content but it's darker. Proceed if you wish (or don't because it's not even good and probably not worth reading until I rewrite it.)



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LOCKED DATE: TBA
[last updated: May 7th, 2017]