Target: Classified

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Hospes, Jan 14, 2015.

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  1. A small yawn escaped the fine, thin and pale lips of a young woman. Lazily, her dark blue eyes that could be compared to the color of the night sky fluttered open, hazed with the fog of sleep. However, upon looking at the digital clock set on her oak nightstand, she rubbed the residing sleepiness away and threw off her sheets, stretching lackadaisically. She threw her legs over the side of her bed, climbing to her feet and rolling her shoulders.

    Feet padding quietly on the wooden floor, the nineteen-year-old made her way to her closet, skimming through her variety of well-organized graphic tees, dress shirts, jackets and dresses. Humming a soft tune, she picked out a Marvel top. She hardly cared that it was technically a male shirt.. She was just too modest for the cuts and tightness of women's clothes meant to show off their bodies.

    As she pulled on the shirt over her undergarments she had slept in, the hum evolved into gentle singing. More specifically, 'You're Beautiful', by James Blunt. She then straightened out her shirt, before slipping on her favorite brown leather jacket. After this, she pulled on a simple pair of blue jeans, before grabbing her messenger bag and slipping it over her shoulder.

    Still singing, she pulled open her bedroom door, only to be tackled to the ground. She laughed lightly as she found her face being bombarded with affectionate licks from her German Shepherd; Sergeant. Soon after, her Kuvasz, Corporal, joined in. "Alright, alright.. That's enough, guys; off!" she finally giggled, the dogs both obediently getting off of her and sitting down.

    Grinning like a dork, she sat up and brushed herself off, wiping her face off with the sleeve of her jacket. After this, she climbed to her feet and started to the flat's door, grabbing her two red leashes on the way. However, the dogs remained sat where they had been; impatiently awaiting commands. Grinning slightly, Antonia gave a nod of her head. "C'mon, let's go outside," she called, to which the canines both oblige happily.

    After she had leashed up the dogs and taken them outside to do their business, Toni took them back inside and unleashed them, scurrying to put some bread in the toaster. While it heated up, she scampered about the house, gathering everything she'd need for work.

    Err... Volunteering.

    Once I week, Antonia walked down to the hospital to help as a candy-striper. In basics, the job was going about visiting patients, doing her best to cheer them up and keep their minds off of the medical hardships at hands. If she were to be completely honest.. She loved the job. She loved seeing the kids(and adults alike)' faces light up when she came to visit and brought them gifts or cards.. She loved knowing she was actually doing something helpful and making others feel good.

    So, she grabbed her toast out of the toaster and hurried out the door after calling a goodbye to her pets and feeding them. She shivered slightly at the cold breeze, pulling her jacket tighter around herself and hurriedly eating her slice of toast. She never ate much.. Nor did she like eating around others. So, after brushing off her jeans, she started on her way to the hospital.
  2. High in a skyscraper, on a vacant floor, thanks to renovations, a lone man walks through the bare halls, the plastic tarp rustling quietly under his feet, his black overcoat billowing softly behind him. Slung over his shoulder is a seemingly innocent black duffel bag and a pair of ear buds rest in his ears. If anyone were around him, they'd be able to hear the faint voice of a weather report coming from his ear buds.

    "It's looking like a beautiful spring day today," the overly-energetic man says. "Temperatures are gonna get into the mid-sixties with nary a cloud in sight. Winds are gonna remain at a calm five miles an hour all day today..."

    The man stops at one of the windows covering the wall, looking out toward the city. "It really does seem like a beautiful day," he quietly says as he sets his bag down. Kneeling next to it, he unzips it to reveal the jumble of metal inside. Seconds later, the metal, under the man's skilled hands, is assembled into a sniper rifle.

    Reaching into his bag, he pulls out his clip, which only had one round inside, specially made to be completely untraceable, altered by, once again, his own hands. Laying on his stomach, he loads the magazine into the gun and pulls the bolt back, loading the single bullet into the chamber. He then looks through the scope and instantly sees his target's head in his sight as the man takes a sip of his coffee, the red dot of his laser steady on the man's temple.

    The target's a quarter of a mile away in an outdoor cafe, the assassin thinks. With the wind blowing at a measly five miles an hour, even a child could make this shot.
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