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Post by Alec Individual on Feb 11, 2007 14:41:04 GMT -5
Woooo hooooo!
I stole something and put it here and have halfly claimed it as mine own to all whom are nosey and ask....
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Post by Willow Short on Feb 11, 2007 14:43:39 GMT -5
LOL
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Post by Alec Individual on Feb 11, 2007 14:48:18 GMT -5
I like chocolate....You remember my plot? Do I need to post it? I play the rookie....
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Post by Willow Short on Feb 11, 2007 14:48:52 GMT -5
i remember it. u post first
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Post by Alec Individual on Feb 11, 2007 15:00:52 GMT -5
A very tall man entered the room. He was young, light haired and fair skinned. His eyes were bright blue with a dark gold ring around the pupil. This was Mike, the enthusiastic rookie. Well, soon to be rookie. He was one of the more joyful youths. He wore white and black with a brown coat. His voice had a resonating air that seemed to ring like the bells of Notre Dame.
He sat down in the dark room behind the club that served as the office for this man that would give him a job. Just out of highschool and Mike's partent kicked him out of the house because they could do so legally. After wandering a while, getting turned down by simple odd jobs, he stumbled upon a mysterious guy that gave him a wonderful offer. Well, it was scary, but Mike would get paid.
"Sit down," the boss said. He smelled of cigaretter smoke, though Mike couldn't see his face very well. "Looking for a job then? How good are you with a gun?"
Mike hesitated and rubbed his palms. He was kind of nervous, being that a dark room behind a club was the perfect place for a descreet murder. "Um..." he began, "I can shoot a button from thirty yards...With a handgun at least."
"Alright, sounds like you got good aim," he said, "I'll want you to see our number one, Bruce." He handed Mike a small piece of paper from across the large desk in front of him. "He'll test you and teach you how things work around here." He turned his chair around as if to end the conversation, blocking out any further comment Mike might have.
'Alright,' Mike thought, 'Now that I've met the big guy, some one shoot me before I have to meet the number one.' He now stood outside the door to the flat who's address was written on the llittle piece of paper. He felt a little more confident so he knocked.
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Post by Willow Short on Feb 11, 2007 15:28:21 GMT -5
Bruise was the number one. He was like a huge mountain. Broad, muscled, and standing at six feet nine. He had no hair on his shaved head and his eyes were a stormy Grey, a sign that he was the best sharp shooter in their region. He didn’t look like he was nearly sixty, he looked more like he was in his forties, but looks can be deceiving.
At the moment he was dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a white shirt that showed his muscles when he moved. And he was annoyed. He was just sitting down to dinner when the boy knocked on his door. He set his fork down and stood up, hiding his anger behind a mask as she walked to the door and open it. “Your late, I don’t accept tardiness.”
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Post by Alec Individual on Feb 11, 2007 15:33:23 GMT -5
Mike fought the impulse to run for his life when a giant of a man answered the door. There goes ten years of priding yourself in being tall, right down the hill. "Um...Sorry?" he said, "I got lost on the way, I'm not used to this part of town." He tried to make himself fell taller so as to convince his body to be less intimidating. He was failing.
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Post by Willow Short on Feb 11, 2007 15:36:07 GMT -5
He grunted and grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him inside. He shut the door and locked it. “Sit” he said pointing to a chair at the table. He sat back down in his spot and started eating. A full gut was important.
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Post by Alec Individual on Feb 11, 2007 15:38:36 GMT -5
Mike sat down quickly and stiffly. He watched Bruce eat and felt the effect of missing both preceding meals today. He didn't say anything about it though. He just watched and waited as if he were a convict awaiting the death sentence.
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Post by Willow Short on Feb 11, 2007 15:41:37 GMT -5
He glanced at him and sat his fork down. “You hungry boy?” he asked, his voice deep and menacing. This wasn’t the real bruise but an act. No the real bruise looked to garden. Not that any of his colleagues will ever find out. “Answer me.”
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Post by Alec Individual on Feb 11, 2007 15:45:36 GMT -5
"Um...yes," he replied. He answered hesitantly. "But, you know, I've gotten used to it lately." He wasn't sure what he was saying, but he wanted to say something to keep his voice steady.
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Post by Willow Short on Feb 11, 2007 15:48:35 GMT -5
He stood up and walked past him to the kitchen. From a big pot on the stove he dished out noodles and meatballs and stuck a fork in it. He walked back out and set it before him. “First rule is feed yourself, a hungry stomach makes a world of difference when you’re on a job. It doesn’t matter where you are or what time, you get hungry, eat. Many get taken down because their stomachs give them away.”
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Post by Alec Individual on Feb 11, 2007 16:16:42 GMT -5
He poked at it with the fork. "Are there any mushrooms in this?" he asked.
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Post by Willow Short on Feb 11, 2007 16:24:18 GMT -5
He arched a brow. "no. i dont like mushrooms"
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Post by Alec Individual on Feb 11, 2007 16:26:26 GMT -5
"Good, I'm allergic," he muttered. He took a bite, but surprisingly didn't eat like it was his last meal as one would expect. It's little wonder he's so skinny. "You're a good cook," he said.
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Post by Willow Short on Feb 11, 2007 16:30:51 GMT -5
he let a mile tug his lips up and he chuckled.
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Post by Alec Individual on Feb 11, 2007 16:33:54 GMT -5
Mike felt like the sideshow at a carnival. His differences from this man were beginning to fill a deeper hole. Not only was he skinny weak, he couldn't cook to save his life--half the reason he hadn't eaten all day. "So what exactly are the demands of this job?" he asked, "I mean besides eating."
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Post by Willow Short on Feb 11, 2007 18:27:46 GMT -5
"well for one your too skinny as it is, you need mucles. well work on that first. then i will like to see what you have, skill wise."
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Post by Alec Individual on Feb 11, 2007 18:30:46 GMT -5
"Skill wise," he repeated, trying not to make a remark defending how skinny he was. "I have both of my eyes.
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Post by Willow Short on Feb 11, 2007 18:34:19 GMT -5
he shook his head."eat up."he said pointing to his plait."want a beer or a soda?"
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