Newish Story 1-3 edited -- The Beta Board

[ Show ]

Support VoyForums

[ Shrink ]

VoyForums Announcement: Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users' privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.

Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your contribution is not tax-deductible.) PayPal Acct: Feedback:

Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):

[ Login ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 1, [2], 3, 4 ]

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Date Posted: 21:06:22 01/19/04 Mon
Author: Madison
Subject: Newish Story 1-3 edited
In reply to: Madison 's message, "Newish Story" on 14:23:50 01/10/04 Sat

part 1
I was recruited into Section One when I was fifteen years old: an innocent girl in a dark and dreary dungeon hell hole. And I was an innocent in the very real sense of that term; I was plucked out of a normal high-school life and forced to become a cold-op for no apparent reason. At least, it wasn�t very apparent when I first arrived. But let me start there.

I was sure I had fallen asleep in my own bed, but when I woke up everything was wrong. I woke up slowly, but from a horrible dream (the kind you usually wake with a start from). My sheets were red; the ones I woke up in were white, as were the walls and my pajamas. That�s when I knew I really was in trouble, I always slept in ridiculous bright pink men�s boxer shorts and a faded gray sweatshirt from my mother�s high school days, and they were gone. And I was groggy, kind of like when I was given medication for a broken arm when I was ten. I had been drugged and brought to a bleached room that wasn�t mine. I sat up on the gunnery as a door creaked open and a middle-aged brunette in a severe black suit and lethally sharp heels walked in.

�Good morning, Erika. I hope you slept well,� she said.

�Oh, yes. Just great. And you are?� I was surprised by the formalities, I admit I was expecting to be accused of a serious crime I did not commit and was ready to tell anyone who�d listen I didn�t do it..

�Madeline. I will be overseeing your training for the next two years.�

�What training?� I asked, dumbfounded that I needed any more training than I was forced to learn at school.

�Your training to become an operative for the most covert anti-terrorist organization in the world,� Madeline said.

�Oh, and I suppose that makes the kind of sense I�m not in on? How on earth am I going to train to become an operative for the most covert anti-terrorist organization in the world? I should be in school right now, at least, I think so.� I paused. I then realized I had no idea what time it was, or where I was. But I wasn�t about to be sidetracked: �And I have swim practice after that,� I protested.

�I see. Let me reassure you that swim practice will not conflict with your training. To the outside world, you committed suicide seven days ago by overdosing with a bottle of aspirin, half a bottle of ibuprofen and two and a half bottles of your father�s finest whiskey. Quite the lethal combination. This was your funeral.� Madeline handed me a short stack of black and white photographs: Mom crying, Dad pale, my sister comforting her brood of children, my best friend sobbing through my eulogy, my cousins in shock. I swallowed hard. I felt as if I had been punched in the stomach. �I believe it was plot 21, row 17,� Madeline said coldly.�

�You did this to them?� I asked, struggling to control the rage and grief that threatened to overwhelm me.

�You will never be able to contact them again. If we find that you do attempt to establish contact, both you and the person you contact will be canceled. Your trainer will arrive shortly to begin your orientation. Welcome to Section One, Erika.� Madeline left the room with the echo of the click of her heels behind her and took every dream I had ever had with her.

That was my introduction into the harsh life that is Section One. Seriously, why did Madeline expect a fifteen-year-old girl to understand that she had a miserable destiny? Not that it was explained all that well. I was just expected to pick myself off the floor after that beating and take another. But I wasn�t about to take another without a fight.
part 2
When the door to my holding sell creaked open again, I cringed to think of another encounter with Madeline. But it wasn�t Madeline. In came what my friends would have called �a total babe;� he was tall with brown hair and dark eyes and a seriously black suit. I think my jaw hit the floor when I saw him for the first time. �Who are you?� I asked, wiping my eyes, tying to hide any evidence that I had spent the entire time since Madeline had left crying over the photos of my funeral. I have a hunch I failed miserably.

�James. I will be your trainer,� he said.

�Erika Cornel. Nice to meet you too,� I said, trying to not sound like an impetuous brat. I failed miserably at that too.

�Follow me. You need to smarten yourself up before the official orientation begins,� James said.

�After you,� I said. I scooped up the photographs I had been brooding over and followed him into a well lit but darkly colored hallway and down more corridors that I cared to count. Finally, James stopped in front of a door with a keypad. He punched in a series of numbers and the door slid open, revealing a small room with a single bed, a desk, a large metal wardrobe and an adjoining bathroom. �So I guess this is home?� I asked; peering into the Spartan room.

�You will be quartered here for the duration of your training. There is appropriate clothing in the wardrobe, the shower is straight through there.� He pointed at the ajar door to the right of the entrance. �I will fetch you in twenty five minutes. I suggest you wear something comfortable for the shooting range and suitable for Madeline�s office,� James said simply. And with that, he was gone behind the sliding door.

I took little time exploring my new surroundings, I imagined there would be plenty of time to do that later. I carefully hid the photographs of my funeral in the bottom drawer of the desk inside a plain black box. Put it away, Erika, I thought, just put it away.

I showered and washed the salt from my tears off my face and body. I brushed seven days of sleep off my teeth and combed it out of my hair. I looked in the wardrobe and chose a pair of long black wool trousers that were slightly flared and cuffed, a soft white tee shirt and gray cardigan and some flat black shoes. I was amazed that the pants were long enough. I had trouble finding pants that looked good on my boyish hips and overly long legs; at least I did in the malls that I shopped in my real life. These fit like they were tailor made, as did the rest of the clothing, right down to the serviceable white underwear. The wardrobe kind of freaked me out. How did they know my sizes? Why did they bother to have custom pants made? Why was everything black, white or various shades of gray? I cringed to think of who, and how, my measurements had been taken.

My clothes were a dire representation of my new life. Lots of black, white and millions of shades of gray.

I was sitting on my hard mattress when James came back. � Are you ready to go?� he asked, very businesslike.

�I guess. Am I supposed to be angry, because I feel like I�m missing something,� I said.

�Shock comes first. Wait a few hours until the sedatives wear off completely, then the anger will come,� James said softly, not looking at me.

�Is that what you�re supposed to say, or are you speaking from experience?�

�Does it matter?�

�Yes. It matters to me, at least,� I said.

�You�re going to be late. You have a meeting with Madeline in two hours and you must see Walter and Birkoff before that,� James told me.

I was suddenly furious with James and my situation and his obtuseness. I sprang up from the bed and threw a heavy right hook in James�s direction. He grabbed my fist right before it connected with his face. Before I knew it, his fist had contacted with my stomach and I was on my back on the floor. �Ouch, would you let go?!� I exclaimed.

�I recommend you not release your anger physically. Attacking a superior is a grave offense in Section, if it was not your first day, I would be forced to take disciplinary action. And always go for the kidneys first when attacking an opponent.�

�OK, just get offa me!� I bucked and struggled under his tight hold. James let me up and I straightened my cardigan and brushed the imaginary dirt off my pants. �I feel better now,� I said tritely.

James silently straightened his immaculate black suit and walked out of the room. I followed, and the door wooshed closed behind me. I followed James down many hallways, and then we walked into an open space with high ceilings, a computer command center in the middle, a glassed-in office to one side high up, and an open niche filled with dangerous looking weapons. James pushed me towards the niche.

�Erika, this is Walter,� James said, introducing me to the skinny ex-hippie at the workstation. �Walter, Erika is my new material. It�s her first day.�

Walter was deep in conversation with a tall blonde, who was laughing and flirting back. �We�ll finish this later , Sugar,� Walter laughed.

�Yep, I�ll see you after the mission, Walter,� Sugar called back as she left.

Walter waved, and then turned to James and I. �It usually is their first day when they meet me, James. It�s nice to meet you Erika,� he said. �You�ll be wanting her in a hour, James?�

�Yes. Could you send her to Birkoff then?� James asked.

�Sure. No problem James. As long as you pick her up at Comm after,� Walter said. �We wouldn�t want you to get lost your first day, Honey.� Sugar? Honey? I thought, did Walter call all the girls he knew by the sweeteners most commonly used in tea?

�Nope. I don�t think I�d like that much,� I said. �See you later James.�

�I�ll meet you in two hours at Comm,� James said to me. �And behave yourself,� he scolded.

�Don�t tell me what to do,� I said angrily. What he said sent me flying beck to the lectures I got daily before school from my parents. But before I responded James was gone. I turned to Walter, trying to push the thought of my parents out of my mind. �So, what do I learn from you?� I asked.

�How to shoot stuff,� Walter said; he let me peel myself off the floor before continuing. �Of course, I pride myself on giving out bits of wisdom, but I�ll let you be the judge of that Honey.� Walter�s voice was gravely but kind and sympathetic. �You look awfully young to be in this hell hole. What�d you do to get in?�

�I don�t know,� I said honestly. I sat down on a high bar stool opposite Walter and casually spun side to side. �I was in high school last week and now I�m here.� Walter looked startled, his eyes got round with shock and he briefly stopped breathing. �I take it that�s not what you expected to hear,� I said, suddenly panicking.

�No, not at all. That�s highly unusual, in fact. Unheard of. Damn, Honey. You must have done something. Hacked into some computer files you shouldn�t have or�� Walter hesitated, then said: �Ever kill someone in cold blood?�

�No, I never�. Walter,� I lowered my voice, �are you telling me that I�m the only person who�s not been convicted of a felony in Section?�

�Pretty much. There are a few acceptions, but not a recruitment straight out of high school. How old are you?�

�Fifteen,� I said hesitantly. Walter dropped the screwdriver he was working with.

�You�re joking,� Walter said. �I would have said at least seventeen, which isn�t half as bad but� fifteen! Why, you�re still a kid!�

�Thanks. A kid who�s six feet tall and expected to act her height, if that�s what you mean,� I said bitterly. �I mean, one night I fall asleep in my bed at home and when I wake up I�m dead. Not really but to my family and friends and my life and I just don�t know what to do Walter!� I felt tears well up in my eyes and I moved to wipe them away with the heel of my hand. �Why does Madeline expect me to pick up and go on when I feel like I�m breaking apart inside and I�ll never be strong enough to do this and I�ll never see my family again and I�ll never be�� I couldn�t say it. I looked up at Walter with tear-stained eyes.

�Every new recruit goes through this. Well, at least a few of them do. Just means you�re one of the five percenters. You�ll do fine. You have to take what was and what could have been and put it away and not let Madeline and this place take it from you. After all, you did choose to live,� Walter said.

�I didn�t know there was an option.�

�Now that�s the right attitude, Honey.� I smiled. My mother, much to my dismay, had called me �honey� on occasion. I could get used to it with Walter.
part 3
Walter didn�t show me any guns in that hour. I talked; he listened. I told him about my hometown, a small town with a university; going to pools at five in the morning to swim before school; living in the shadow of my older sister; my mom�s spaghetti; my love of books and hate of math; how when I was little I thought my dad was prince charming and I was Cinderella; how I had applied to be an exchange student, and now would not be able to go; how I had dreamed of studying literature and art in college; about my cousin Will, who was my favorite person to drive insane with childish pranks; about high school and how much I disliked school dances; I talked for thirty minutes solid.

At the end of the hour, Walter whisked me off to Comm, and introduced me to Birkoff. I connected instantly with the sort of dorky and awkward computer whiz. The first thing he said to me, sounding annoyed, after Walter had introduced us and left was: �You look like the book type.�

I laughed. �I am. But I can use typing programs and email and basic internet and stuff,� I said hopefully.

�If you mean word processors by �typing programs� then it�s worse than I thought. It�s good you�re so young, or I never would be able to undo the damage,� Birkoff said.

�I am not that young!� I protested, louder than I had meant to.

Birkoff glared at me through his glass-bottle glasses. �You�re younger than me, Kid. That�s still young enough.� He reached for a soft drink and a bag of chocolates. �Have some candy and sit down and pay attention,� he said.

I was soon daydreaming. I wasn�t all that interested in computers, which Birkoff seemed very enthusiastic about. I stared into the glass aerie, when the man in there looked down and met my gaze. I jumped a mile, and felt a cold shiver travel down my spine. I quickly averted my eyes. �Birkoff, who�s up there?� I asked, gesturing with my head.

�Operations. He�s the big guy around here,� he replied. �Are you even hearing what I�m telling you?�

�No. But James is going to be here in a few minutes so it doesn�t matter,� I said. �So what�s Operation�s deal?�

�What�s to know? He�s the man in charge, the head honcho, the big kahuna�� Birkoff started.

�The big head, the big cheese, big brother�� I continued.

�You have the right idea Erika.�

�Erika�s got the right idea about what?� James asked, coming up fast from behind us. I jumped a mile again.

�This program I was showing her. The kid�s a natural,� Birkoff said.

�Shall we go, Erika?� James said to me.

�Yeah. See you later Birkoff,� I said casually. I got up and started to catch up to James, but I turned my head and mouthed �Thank you so much!� back to Birkoff.

�You so owe me!� he mouthed back.

I waved and then ran a few steps to catch up to James. �Do you have to walk so fast?� I asked. James didn�t answer. I kept up and followed him to Madeline�s office.

�Madeline will escort you back to your quarters when you have finished,� James told me.

�What�s all this about?� I asked.

�Basic orientation. Madeline is probably going to go over your course of study and schedule, processes and procedures of Section, just so you know what is going on.�

�Why am I the only person in here who hasn�t killed someone?� I asked bluntly. I think I blind-sided James with the question. He was silent, looking meaningfully at me, and the door slid open before I could demand an answer. James gave me a slight push, and I walked down the stairs in Madeline�s office hesitantly. I was a scared of Madeline. She was cold and she took my family away from me, I thought, as she was the one who told me about it.

�Please sit down,� Madeline said to me, gesturing to the chair across the desk from her. I sat down and tried to straighten my posture. I was cursed with bad posture from my years of swimming. �You�re looking much better than the last time we met.�

�It was nothing a shower and new clothing couldn�t fix,� I said tartly.

�You are a beautiful girl, Erika. You should not be afraid to show it.�

�Really?� I asked. Madeline raised her eyebrow at me in question. �You think I�m pretty?� I didn�t believe her for three seconds. I knew exactly what I was: too tall, too clumsy, and too much into knowing the homework assignments to be considered anywhere near beautiful.

Madeline looked over me appraisingly, sizing me up. I instantly straightened in my chair under her scrutiny. �Well, to start with, you�re tall, and your legs are long and well shaped. It appears you will develop a more pleasing chest as you mature. You�re a bit round about the middle, but it�s nothing that your training won�t take care of on its own. Your face is very aesthetically pleasing. You have beautiful brown eyes. I think we should consider letting your hair grow a bit longer than it is now. And it might look better a shade or two darker, your eyebrows are so dark, although we need to consult a stylist.�

�Wow. Tell me what you really think,� I was floored. It appears I will develop a more pleasing chest? I thought. Woah, that was way too much information. But I smiled, I liked the boost to my ego, and I liked that Madeline thought I was pretty.

�Although you need to learn how to present yourself properly,� Madeline replied, ignoring my comment. �You did fairly well today. I approve of the pants and sweater. Your tee shirt is inappropriate for meetings such as this. Choose something more formal in the future. I also recommend that you become accustomed to heeled shoes. You should be wearing them for your everyday schedule so you become comfortable maneuvering in them.�

�Right,� I said. �I�ll consider it.� I�ll repeat I was floored. I never thought of myself as the pretty girl. I was the smart girl. I was the tall girl with the blue shoes. I was a nerd. The thought that I might one day become a man-killing siren was hilarious. And funny, it was so funny I almost burst into spasms of giggles.

�Your course of training will include deportment, as well as various other social skills, including basic seduction,� Madeline began.

�Excuse me, but did you say seduction, because that would be a very bad idea. I have this thing about kissing and it really grosses me out and I can barely watch it on TV, and��

�Stop prattling and listen Erika. That area of your training will not intensify for at least two years. You are young, and being uncomfortable with your sexuality is not unexpected. But your lack of confidence with males in the sexual arena needs to cease,� Madeline said. �May I continue?� I nodded. �The rest of your training will center around being an effective operative for Section. You will learn about munitions, computer systems, martial arts, profiling missions and psychological profiling, and many other things. You must also continue with your high school education. You will be expected to have completed the equivalent of a diploma before you finish your training,� she finished.

�Is there any way I will be able to go to a university?� I asked.

�Not unless a mission requires it,� Madeline told me.

I felt my soul sink. First I was trapped in high school, now I was trapped in Section One; forever denied a college education.

�This is your weekly timetable. I expect you will follow it to the second. None of your tutors will tolerate tardiness, nor will James and myself,� she said, handing me a PDA with an elaborate schedule. �But for now you are dismissed. Please report to James�s office presently.�

�But I don�t know where James�s office is,� I protested.

�Turn left out the door, and turn right at the third hallway you cross. James�s office is the only window in that hallway. You can�t miss it.�

I turned left heading out of Madeline�s door, wishing I had made her draw a map. As I dutifully counted hallways, I passed two people walking together and deep in a hushed conversation.

�Michael, is that her?� the tall blonde woman, who Walter had called Sugar, asked her companion.

�Yes. Don�t perturb anyone about it, Nikita. You are not supposed to know,� this Michael character responded.

�But she�s so young��

That was all I could eavesdrop before they walked out of hearing distance, but it was enough. Not only was I worthy of oglers, I was infamous, and classified! And it was still my first day. Aie-aie-aie.

I found James�s office with easily after that, although I did find it difficult to walk while staring at my feet. I was trying to avoid other�s attention by literally keeping my head down. It was flustering to be scrutinized like that. I rapped lightly on the office door, and then opened it. James was sitting behind a plain metal desk, and when he looked up he seemed surprised to see me. �Madeline sent me,� I said by way of explanation.

�Plans change. Although I take it your training schedule is not as flexible,� James said.

�I don�t think so. It�s all so structured. And you know she wants me to finish two years of high school along with all this other stuff. Madeline is crazy,� I said, incredulous.

�If Madeline thought you could not handle the workload, then she would not ask it of you.�

�OK, but now what? Can I go to my quarters for my emotional breakdown now?� I asked sarcastically.

�No. One more thing,� James said as he shut down the computer he was working on and stood up, �please come with me.� He walked out of the office and I sprang up to follow. He led me to a room with tall ceilings, wood floors and brick walls. �This is Madeline�s old office, we now use it for various training scenarios. But tonight, it�s a ballroom.�

�Not like Cinderella?� I asked tentatively.

�No, but you need to change your shoes. Those are not appropriate for dancing.�

�Dancing!� I exclaimed. �I, uh, don�t dance.� I had never danced with a boy before, and James was much more than the boys from school. He was taller than I was, and when you�re the tallest person you know that�s intimidating, and he was much better looking than anything that I had ever been close to. He was a total babe, for goodness sake! I may have been young then but I had eyes, and hormones. Way too many hormones that decided to flare up at bad times like that. I stepped back instinctively, to protect my quickly expanding need for personal space. �You should be wearing shoes of titanium, or at least copper-toed. I might break something in your foot without protection.�

�I�m wearing stomp-proof shoes. You can change behind that screen.� James pointed to an Asian-style paper and mahogany room divider. I practically sprinted across the room to hide. I pulled off my pants, shoes and socks and put on the nylon stockings, high-heeled shoes and chiffon skirt. I also took off my cardigan, as I assumed the dancing would involve sweating. I cautiously returned to James on the dance floor, and he turned on a slow classical waltz with a small remote. �Now put your left hand on my shoulder,� he said softly, obviously trying to soothe my nerves. As I did as he told me, he place his hand on my waist and took my other hand in his. I felt uncomfortable. Like I was going to fall apart.

James started to slowly turn me, leading me across the dance floor. Suddenly, I slipped. I flew backwards, and James jumped forward in an attempt to break my fall. I ended up on my bum, with James looking down at me. �I can�t do this!� I cried in frustration. �Any of this! I don�t want to be dead. I want my life back!�

James pulled me up and then pulled me so we were flush together. �Do you want to die?� he whispered intensely into my ear. �Because a bullet in your head can easily be arranged,� he paused for dramatic effect. �The next two years of your life will be the hardest you will ever live through. You will experience the worst of mankind, the most depraved and sadistic and inhumane people on the face of the earth. And you will change, deeply. You did nothing to deserve this. Just know that I will never forgive myself for making you into what you will become.� And with that he pushed me away.

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Replies:

[> [> Okay, a hard beta on parts 1-2. -- Shanola, 20:49:46 01/20/04 Tue

My comments will be set aside like this: ####comment####.

I was recruited into Section One when I was fifteen years old: an innocent girl in a dark and dreary dungeon hell hole. ####You've got a work echo here with 'innocent' being used close together.#### And I was an innocent in the very real sense of that term; I was plucked out of a normal high-school life and forced to become a cold-op for no apparent reason. At least, it wasn�t very apparent when I first arrived. But let me start there.

I was sure I had fallen asleep in my own bed, but when I woke up everything was wrong. I woke up slowly, but from a horrible dream (the kind you usually wake with a start from).####I'm not sure you need the comment in the (). The sentence would stand fine without it.#### My sheets were red; the ones I woke up in were white, as were the walls and my pajamas. That�s when I knew I really was in trouble,####I think you may need a ; there instead of a comma#### I always slept in ridiculous bright pink men�s boxer shorts and a faded gray sweatshirt from my mother�s high school days, and they were gone. And I was groggy, kind of like when I was given medication for a broken arm when I was ten. I had been drugged and brought to a bleached room that wasn�t mine. I sat up on the gunnery ####I think you mean 'gurney' and not "gunnery" as a gunnery is a sort of gun.#### as a door creaked open and a middle-aged brunette in a severe black suit and lethally sharp heels walked in. ####Heh. "Leathally sharp heels". I like it. ####

�Good morning, Erika. I hope you slept well,� she said.

�Oh, yes. Just great. And you are?� I was surprised by the formalities, I admit I was expecting to be accused of a serious crime I did not commit and was ready to tell anyone who�d listen I didn�t do it.. ####Only one period here.####

�Madeline. I will be overseeing your training for the next two years.�

�What training?� I asked, dumbfounded that I needed any more training than I was forced to learn at school.

�Your training to become an operative for the most covert anti-terrorist organization in the world,� Madeline said.

�Oh, and I suppose that makes the kind of sense I�m not in on? How on earth am I going to train to become an operative for the most covert anti-terrorist organization in the world? I should be in school right now, at least, I think so.� I paused. I then realized I had no idea what time it was, or where I was. But I wasn�t about to be sidetracked: �And I have swim practice after that,� I protested.

�I see. Let me reassure you that swim practice will not conflict with your training. To the outside world, you committed suicide seven days ago by overdosing with a bottle of aspirin, half a bottle of ibuprofen and two and a half bottles of your father�s finest whiskey. Quite the lethal combination. This was your funeral.� Madeline handed me a short stack of black and white photographs: Mom crying, Dad pale, my sister comforting her brood of children, my best friend sobbing through my eulogy, my cousins in shock. I swallowed hard. I felt as if I had been punched in the stomach. �I believe it was plot 21, row 17,� Madeline said coldly.� ####Okay, this worked well in the first episode but I've got be honest, it's getting a little cliche. Can you find some way to not use this? I think it works just as well if you don't use it. The point is made.####

�You did this to them?� I asked, struggling to control the rage and grief that threatened to overwhelm me.####Even Nikita cried when she woke up. Can't Erika?####

�You will never be able to contact them again. If we find that you do attempt to establish contact, both you and the person you contact will be canceled. Your trainer will arrive shortly to begin your orientation. ####??Her trainer? I thought Madeline was overseeing her training?#### Welcome to Section One, Erika.� Madeline left the room with the echo of the click of her heels behind her and took every dream I had ever had with her.####I found this last sentence to be a bit long. Can you shorten it? I got a bit bogged down with "the echo of the click of her heels behind her".####

That was my introduction into the harsh life that is Section One. Seriously, why did Madeline expect a fifteen-year-old girl to understand that she had a miserable destiny? Not that it was explained all that well. I was just expected to pick myself off the floor after that beating and take another. But I wasn�t about to take another without a fight.
part 2
When the door to my holding sell ####I think yo mean 'cell'####creaked open again, I cringed to think of another encounter with Madeline. But it wasn�t Madeline. In came what my friends would have called �a total babe;� he was tall with brown hair and dark eyes and a seriously black suit. I think my jaw hit the floor when I saw him for the first time. �Who are you?� I asked, wiping my eyes, tying to hide any evidence that I had spent the entire time since Madeline had left crying over the photos of my funeral. I have a hunch I failed miserably. ####Oh, thank you for this! Emotion! Cool. =P####

�James. I will be your trainer,� he said.

�Erika Cornel. Nice to meet you too,� I said, trying to not sound like an impetuous brat. I failed miserably at that too.

�Follow me. You need to smarten yourself up before the official orientation begins,� James said.

�After you,� I said. I scooped up the photographs I had been brooding over and followed him into a well lit but darkly colored hallway and down more corridors that I cared to count. Finally, James stopped in front of a door with a keypad. He punched in a series of numbers and the door slid open, revealing a small room with a single bed, a desk, a large metal wardrobe and an adjoining bathroom. �So I guess this is home?� I asked; peering into the Spartan room. ####You don't need the semi-colon in that sentence. A comma would do nicely.####

�You will be quartered here for the duration of your training. There is appropriate clothing in the wardrobe, the shower is straight through there.� He pointed at the ajar door to the right of the entrance. ####I was thrown by 'ajar door'. It doesn't flow very well. You may want to think about leaving out the word 'ajar'.#### �I will fetch you in twenty five minutes. I suggest you wear something comfortable for the shooting range and suitable for Madeline�s office,� James said simply. And with that, he was gone behind the sliding door.

I took little time exploring my new surroundings, I imagined there would be plenty of time to do that later. I carefully hid the photographs of my funeral in the bottom drawer of the desk inside a plain black box. Put it away, Erika, I thought, just put it away.

I showered and washed the salt from my tears off my face and body. ####Do you think 'salf of my tears' works better than 'salf from my tears'? Your call.#### I brushed seven days of sleep off my teeth and combed it out of my hair. ####I like that sentence. Very nice, short and descriptive.#### I looked in the wardrobe and chose a pair of long black wool trousers that were slightly flared and cuffed, a soft white tee shirt and gray cardigan and some flat black shoes. I was amazed that the pants were long enough. I had trouble finding pants that looked good on my boyish hips and overly long legs; at least I did in the malls that I shopped in my real life. These fit like they were tailor made, as did the rest of the clothing, right down to the serviceable white underwear. The wardrobe kind of freaked me out. How did they know my sizes? Why did they bother to have custom pants made? Why was everything black, white or various shades of gray? I cringed to think of who, and how, my measurements had been taken.

My clothes were a dire representation of my new life. Lots of black, white and millions of shades of gray.####This last line is repetitive. You've already said everything was in black, white, or various shades of gray in the previous paragraph. There's no need to say it again.####

I was sitting on my hard mattress when James came back. � Are you ready to go?� he asked, very businesslike.

�I guess. Am I supposed to be angry, because I feel like I�m missing something,� I said. ####I don't understand this. I've already gotten the impression Erika was angry in the first part, when she first woke up. Why would she feel like she's supposed to be angry? Did James give her that impression and I missed it?####

�Shock comes first. Wait a few hours until the sedatives wear off completely, then the anger will come,� James said softly, not looking at me.

�Is that what you�re supposed to say, or are you speaking from experience?�

�Does it matter?�

�Yes. It matters to me, at least,� I said.

�You�re going to be late. You have a meeting with Madeline in two hours and you must see Walter and Birkoff before that,� James told me.

I was suddenly furious with James and my situation and his obtuseness. I sprang up from the bed and threw a heavy right hook in James�s direction. He grabbed my fist right before it connected with his face. Before I knew it, his fist had contacted with my stomach and I was on my back on the floor. �Ouch, would you let go?!� I exclaimed. ####Okay, I would find this paragraph much better if there had been no discussion of anger a few paragraphs earlier. I would suggest losing the previous discussion and leave this in. That way, it'll have more impact.####

�I recommend you not release your anger physically. Attacking a superior is a grave offense in Section, if it was not your first day, I would be forced to take disciplinary action. ####This can be two sentences after the word Section.#### And always go for the kidneys first when attacking an opponent.� ####Again, this last sentence is a little cliche. We know that Michael says to go for the kidney's first, but do we know that's standard operating procedure for Section trainers?####

�OK, just get offa me!� I bucked and struggled under his tight hold. James let me up and I straightened my cardigan and brushed the imaginary dirt off my pants. �I feel better now,� I said tritely.

James silently straightened his immaculate black suit and walked out of the room. I followed, and the door wooshed closed behind me. I followed James down many hallways, and then we walked into an open space with high ceilings, a computer command center in the middle, a glassed-in office to one side high up, and an open niche filled with dangerous looking weapons. James pushed me towards the niche.

�Erika, this is Walter,� James said, introducing me to the skinny ex-hippie at the workstation. ####*blinka* I've never thought of Walter as skinny, really.#### �Walter, Erika is my new material. It�s her first day.�

Walter was deep in conversation with a tall blonde, who was laughing and flirting back. ####Wait, flirting back? or flirting with him?#### �We�ll finish this later , Sugar,� Walter laughed.

�Yep, I�ll see you after the mission, Walter,� Sugar called back as she left.

Walter waved, and then turned to James and I. ####This should be "James and me"#### �It usually is their first day when they meet me, James. It�s nice to meet you Erika,� he said. �You�ll be wanting her in a hour, James?�

�Yes. Could you send her to Birkoff then?� James asked.

�Sure. No problem James. As long as you pick her up at Comm after,� Walter said. �We wouldn�t want you to get lost your first day, Honey.� Sugar? Honey? I thought, did Walter call all the girls he knew by the sweeteners most commonly used in tea? ####I don't think you need to say, I thought to lead off this sentence. We are in Erika's POV, so it must be her thought. And, um, *snark*. I like the comparision.####

�Nope. I don�t think I�d like that much,� I said. �See you later James.�

�I�ll meet you in two hours at Comm,� James said to me. �And behave yourself,� he scolded.

�Don�t tell me what to do,� I said angrily. What he said sent me flying beck to the lectures I got daily before school from my parents. But before I responded James was gone. I turned to Walter, trying to push the thought of my parents out of my mind. �So, what do I learn from you?� I asked.

�How to shoot stuff,� Walter said; he let me peel myself off the floor before continuing. �Of course, I pride myself on giving out bits of wisdom, but I�ll let you be the judge of that Honey.� ####This should be "...judge of that comma Honey.""#### Walter�s voice was gravely but kind and sympathetic. ####Wait. 'gravely'? or do you mean 'gravelly'? 'gravely' means solemn, without a smile but 'gravelly' means like gravel.#### �You look awfully young to be in this hell hole. What�d you do to get in?�

�I don�t know,� I said honestly. I sat down on a high bar stool opposite Walter and casually spun side to side. �I was in high school last week and now I�m here.� Walter looked startled, his eyes got round with shock and he briefly stopped breathing.####Um, if he stopped breathing, that's pretty serious. Do you mean he caught or held his breath?#### �I take it that�s not what you expected to hear,� I said, suddenly panicking.

�No, not at all. That�s highly unusual, in fact. Unheard of. Damn, Honey. You must have done something. Hacked into some computer files you shouldn�t have or�� Walter hesitated, then said: �Ever kill someone in cold blood?�

�No, I never�.####No need for a period here#### Walter,� I lowered my voice, �are you telling me that I�m the only person who�s not been convicted of a felony in Section?�

�Pretty much. There are a few acceptions, ####I think you mean exceptions#### but not a recruitment straight out of high school. How old are you?�

�Fifteen,� I said hesitantly. Walter dropped the screwdriver he was working with.

�You�re joking,� Walter said. �I would have said at least seventeen, which isn�t half as bad but� fifteen! Why, you�re still a kid!�

�Thanks. A kid who�s six feet tall and expected to act her height, if that�s what you mean,� I said bitterly. �I mean, one night I fall asleep in my bed at home and when I wake up ####comma here#### I�m dead. Not really but to my family and friends and my life and I just don�t know what to do Walter!� I felt tears well up in my eyes and I moved to wipe them away with the heel of my hand. �Why does Madeline expect me to pick up and go on when I feel like I�m breaking apart inside and I�ll never be strong enough to do this and I�ll never see my family again and I�ll never be�� I couldn�t say it. I looked up at Walter with tear-stained eyes.

�Every new recruit goes through this. Well, at least a few of them do. Just means you�re one of the five percenters. You�ll do fine. You have to take what was and what could have been and put it away and not let Madeline and this place take it from you. After all, you did choose to live,� Walter said.

�I didn�t know there was an option.�

�Now that�s the right attitude, Honey.� ####Seperate paragraph here#### I smiled. My mother, much to my dismay, had called me �honey� on occasion. I could get used to it with Walter.

[ Post a Reply to This Message ]
[ Edit | View ]