- Invitation Status
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- Whenever I can get on.
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Fantasy, Comedy, Medieval, Romance, Sci-Fi, Modern
Name: Archaeo Grimoire
Age: 35
Looks:
Occupation: Ex-Assassin
Themesong: Perfect Weapon by Black Veil Brides
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Staring up at the ceiling, there was something unnerving about being in a safehouse. No matter how many times Archaeo tried to convince himself that he was safe, he was oh so painfully aware of how many hired guns were searching for him in every nook and cranny that one would expect a wanted criminal to be hiding in.
They didn't know that he didn't view himself as a criminal, though. That was the premise of his whole retirement plan. He was more of a high stakes gambler. A team manager. A businessman with an eye for profit above all else. A businessman measures costs, profits, benefits, and taxes. Costs would be expenses on missions. Profits would be the money he gets in return for a successful mission. Benefits would be all the resources he had available. And taxes would be the negatives of his choices.
Right now, as he stared up at the ceiling in his room, he could only see the taxes piling up. Americans were so corruptible, it wouldn't surprise him in the slightest bit if anyone who knew about him agreeing to go into protective custody went and ratted him out to the highest bidder. He was prepared for this, however. He had an escape plan ready for any moment. He could be gone with the wind in a heartbeat once he got the word that his enemies were safely tucked away in either a nice little jail cell or a quaint coffin, and he could enjoy his retirement. It would be easy to slip out of sight from the United States government after that.
Age: 35
Looks:
Occupation: Ex-Assassin
Themesong: Perfect Weapon by Black Veil Brides
---------------------------
Staring up at the ceiling, there was something unnerving about being in a safehouse. No matter how many times Archaeo tried to convince himself that he was safe, he was oh so painfully aware of how many hired guns were searching for him in every nook and cranny that one would expect a wanted criminal to be hiding in.
They didn't know that he didn't view himself as a criminal, though. That was the premise of his whole retirement plan. He was more of a high stakes gambler. A team manager. A businessman with an eye for profit above all else. A businessman measures costs, profits, benefits, and taxes. Costs would be expenses on missions. Profits would be the money he gets in return for a successful mission. Benefits would be all the resources he had available. And taxes would be the negatives of his choices.
Right now, as he stared up at the ceiling in his room, he could only see the taxes piling up. Americans were so corruptible, it wouldn't surprise him in the slightest bit if anyone who knew about him agreeing to go into protective custody went and ratted him out to the highest bidder. He was prepared for this, however. He had an escape plan ready for any moment. He could be gone with the wind in a heartbeat once he got the word that his enemies were safely tucked away in either a nice little jail cell or a quaint coffin, and he could enjoy his retirement. It would be easy to slip out of sight from the United States government after that.