Introduction
The Plot
Business men have always been in competition with each other. Years ago an underground war developed with the initial purpose of keeping the competitors from making as much profit as they did. Over time, this concept developed, deepened and grew more complex. Most of the people involved in the war don’t know just how far the system extends and most will never know.
The soldiers of this war are all typically those of the upper class. Who else would be better to serve the rich and powerful, then those of the same society? They felt like those of the lower and middle classes were not as capable of doing a proper job. Though they are still allowed in. Most of them stay only as messengers and nothing more. Very few can work their way up the ranks and if so never make it past cargo level.
Even then the war has continued, thrived to say the least. The rich say they sent away their rebellious children when they died as a result. And yet no one really seems to know who is on what side of the war. Father and son could be on two different sides and never know. The only ones who seem to know the identity of the enemy are the ones who are pulling the strings.
The story begins when one of the wealthiest men in the world finds his illegitimate child and decides to make her his heir. There is a gala for the event. Here all the parties in the war will be present in one room. The man, Mr. Sykes is holding the gala in his best hotel located in England. He wants to stay out of the war.
The problem is that he owns the air carriers that the majority of the battles are fought on. He is going to try and get to the bottom of what is going and put a stop to it. What else he doesn’t know is that his newly appointed heir fights in the war. He has become a liability and a threat to the war. But they need him alive or an heir that will continue his business because without his carriers the other owners fail.
Oh, and she wouldn’t move into his hotels unless her friends came. It’s a small group. But she trusts them. They all trust each other. They’re all in the war.
The World
The story is set in the time era of transition between modern and futuristic. So there are still normal every day vehicles, technology and medical practices. At least on the surface. Times are slowly changing. The biggest advance is the use of air carriers. The air carriers look at lot like the aircraft carriers the Navy has. The only difference: these can fly. They are used to transport mainly massive amounts of goods and slowly making rise to people as well. They will eventually make planes obsolete.
So imagine a world much like the one everyone is accustomed to living in as it goes through the changes that technology have on the world. By the end of the rp it is quite possible to be transitioned to a more futuristic time period.
The Hidden Technology
Call it hidden, because only the upper class society who is involved in the war, have access to this technology.
The first thing is medical. While most of it is the same as known today there are advances being slowly made. This means the rich and their soldiers are the only ones who have access to it. However for the soldiers there are only a few who can actually use this technology to heal people. They are invaluable and need to be kept alive at all costs.
This is how it works: There are bracelets that are attached to the wrists of people that project energy through “runes” and heal people. This only works right now on minor injuries. They can heal almost instantly. Things like broken bones take longer, a few hours to days to completely heal. But the person would be able to continue fighting if necessary. With major problems the runes may not work as the technology hasn’t been perfected yet.
The weapons are also starting to advance. Why use nuclear or biological attacks? They wipe out way too many people and can destroy the land. Besides the rich only want to make money not spend more of it. Most of the weapons have remained the same, however there has been in advancement in the type of bullets that are used.
A new bullet was designed so that when shot and embedded in soft tissue it expands. This causes a person not to bleed out from the wound. However it does make it extremely hard to move. It can also lead to lead poisoning very easily if the bullets aren’t removed fast enough. And they are also much harder to pull out.
Technology has always been evolving in the terms of add-ons. There is beginning to be things to increase strength, eye sight, hearing, etc that are slowly starting to surface. Mostly on the Black Market but it is making its way to the rich and thus to the soldiers. It trickles down the levels. No messengers ever have them and only a few select cargo members.
The Structure
The lowest ranking is that of messengers. Most people start off here. The rich quickly, while this is the place most lower and middle classes never leave. This is used as a training ground and they have to do anything and everything they are asked.
The next level is that of cargo. The job is simple and where many people die. Make sure the cargo, whatever it is, gets from point a to b. This can also mean going onto enemy air carriers and trying to make sure the cargo doesn’t get there.
The third level is what is simply called infiltrate. These are small squads or fire teams that are sent into places and do just about anything. They can steal medical technology as well as weapon tech, assassinations etc. These soldiers are the ones who deal with normal war conditions.
The fourth level is considered the specialists. They typically fall into three categories. A trainer, medical, or tech. These are the people who learn everything they can. They are the healers, the ones who train new soldiers, or come up with new advances. They also see normal combat besides having this job. Either part or full time job.
The second to last level is body guard. While it is not the employer it can be other members of the family, or just random people that are to be protected. Even here the soldiers do not know who their employer is. Hard to rank up to here. This is however a full time job so their previous identity no longer exists.
The highest level is comparable to that of SEAL teams. They are highly skilled fighters, the best of the best. They are hand picked by their employers. They are grouped together and these people trust the others with their lives. They are also the only ones who know who their employer is.
The third to last level are restricted to high class society alone. No one from the lower classes has ever made it past cargo.
***see OOC for additional information***
Character Sketch
Name:
Nickname: (either war, or normal name's nick)
Alias: (war name)
Age:
Gender:
Blood Type:
Zodiac Sign:
Nationality:
Social Class: (born/or are in currently)
Birth date:
Birth Place:
Occupation: (if in war, do not put soldier, put what the cover is)
Title: (very important for the higher classes: ie is Lord, Prince, etc)
Height:
Weight:
Hair:
Eyes:
Distinguishing Features:
Clothing: (typical)
Clothing: (variations to uniform)
Weapons: (ones prefer not the standard issue)
Health:
Physical Flaw: (What makes the character physically weak or prone to weakness)
Intelligence Level:
Long term goals:
Short term goals:
Secret Desire:
Most at ease:
Least at ease:
Personality: (use zodiac to a degree as well as previous parts for this)
Personality Flaw:
Biggest Vulnerability:
Greatest Fear:
Biggest Regret:
Biggest Accomplishment:
Morals:
Relationship Skills:
Family:
Relationships of Family:
Religion:
Hobbies:
Talents:
Habits:
Speech Pattern:
Sleep Pattern:
BIO:
Other:
Accepted Characters
1.) Jessie - AvengerSpirit
2.) John - JacintoRain
Business men have always been in competition with each other. Years ago an underground war developed with the initial purpose of keeping the competitors from making as much profit as they did. Over time, this concept developed, deepened and grew more complex. Most of the people involved in the war don’t know just how far the system extends and most will never know.
The soldiers of this war are all typically those of the upper class. Who else would be better to serve the rich and powerful, then those of the same society? They felt like those of the lower and middle classes were not as capable of doing a proper job. Though they are still allowed in. Most of them stay only as messengers and nothing more. Very few can work their way up the ranks and if so never make it past cargo level.
Even then the war has continued, thrived to say the least. The rich say they sent away their rebellious children when they died as a result. And yet no one really seems to know who is on what side of the war. Father and son could be on two different sides and never know. The only ones who seem to know the identity of the enemy are the ones who are pulling the strings.
The story begins when one of the wealthiest men in the world finds his illegitimate child and decides to make her his heir. There is a gala for the event. Here all the parties in the war will be present in one room. The man, Mr. Sykes is holding the gala in his best hotel located in England. He wants to stay out of the war.
The problem is that he owns the air carriers that the majority of the battles are fought on. He is going to try and get to the bottom of what is going and put a stop to it. What else he doesn’t know is that his newly appointed heir fights in the war. He has become a liability and a threat to the war. But they need him alive or an heir that will continue his business because without his carriers the other owners fail.
Oh, and she wouldn’t move into his hotels unless her friends came. It’s a small group. But she trusts them. They all trust each other. They’re all in the war.
The World
The story is set in the time era of transition between modern and futuristic. So there are still normal every day vehicles, technology and medical practices. At least on the surface. Times are slowly changing. The biggest advance is the use of air carriers. The air carriers look at lot like the aircraft carriers the Navy has. The only difference: these can fly. They are used to transport mainly massive amounts of goods and slowly making rise to people as well. They will eventually make planes obsolete.
So imagine a world much like the one everyone is accustomed to living in as it goes through the changes that technology have on the world. By the end of the rp it is quite possible to be transitioned to a more futuristic time period.
The Hidden Technology
Call it hidden, because only the upper class society who is involved in the war, have access to this technology.
The first thing is medical. While most of it is the same as known today there are advances being slowly made. This means the rich and their soldiers are the only ones who have access to it. However for the soldiers there are only a few who can actually use this technology to heal people. They are invaluable and need to be kept alive at all costs.
This is how it works: There are bracelets that are attached to the wrists of people that project energy through “runes” and heal people. This only works right now on minor injuries. They can heal almost instantly. Things like broken bones take longer, a few hours to days to completely heal. But the person would be able to continue fighting if necessary. With major problems the runes may not work as the technology hasn’t been perfected yet.
The weapons are also starting to advance. Why use nuclear or biological attacks? They wipe out way too many people and can destroy the land. Besides the rich only want to make money not spend more of it. Most of the weapons have remained the same, however there has been in advancement in the type of bullets that are used.
A new bullet was designed so that when shot and embedded in soft tissue it expands. This causes a person not to bleed out from the wound. However it does make it extremely hard to move. It can also lead to lead poisoning very easily if the bullets aren’t removed fast enough. And they are also much harder to pull out.
Technology has always been evolving in the terms of add-ons. There is beginning to be things to increase strength, eye sight, hearing, etc that are slowly starting to surface. Mostly on the Black Market but it is making its way to the rich and thus to the soldiers. It trickles down the levels. No messengers ever have them and only a few select cargo members.
The Structure
The lowest ranking is that of messengers. Most people start off here. The rich quickly, while this is the place most lower and middle classes never leave. This is used as a training ground and they have to do anything and everything they are asked.
The next level is that of cargo. The job is simple and where many people die. Make sure the cargo, whatever it is, gets from point a to b. This can also mean going onto enemy air carriers and trying to make sure the cargo doesn’t get there.
The third level is what is simply called infiltrate. These are small squads or fire teams that are sent into places and do just about anything. They can steal medical technology as well as weapon tech, assassinations etc. These soldiers are the ones who deal with normal war conditions.
The fourth level is considered the specialists. They typically fall into three categories. A trainer, medical, or tech. These are the people who learn everything they can. They are the healers, the ones who train new soldiers, or come up with new advances. They also see normal combat besides having this job. Either part or full time job.
The second to last level is body guard. While it is not the employer it can be other members of the family, or just random people that are to be protected. Even here the soldiers do not know who their employer is. Hard to rank up to here. This is however a full time job so their previous identity no longer exists.
The highest level is comparable to that of SEAL teams. They are highly skilled fighters, the best of the best. They are hand picked by their employers. They are grouped together and these people trust the others with their lives. They are also the only ones who know who their employer is.
The third to last level are restricted to high class society alone. No one from the lower classes has ever made it past cargo.
***see OOC for additional information***
Character Sketch
Name:
Nickname: (either war, or normal name's nick)
Alias: (war name)
Age:
Gender:
Blood Type:
Zodiac Sign:
Nationality:
Social Class: (born/or are in currently)
Birth date:
Birth Place:
Occupation: (if in war, do not put soldier, put what the cover is)
Title: (very important for the higher classes: ie is Lord, Prince, etc)
Height:
Weight:
Hair:
Eyes:
Distinguishing Features:
Clothing: (typical)
Clothing: (variations to uniform)
Weapons: (ones prefer not the standard issue)
Health:
Physical Flaw: (What makes the character physically weak or prone to weakness)
Intelligence Level:
Long term goals:
Short term goals:
Secret Desire:
Most at ease:
Least at ease:
Personality: (use zodiac to a degree as well as previous parts for this)
Personality Flaw:
Biggest Vulnerability:
Greatest Fear:
Biggest Regret:
Biggest Accomplishment:
Morals:
Relationship Skills:
Family:
Relationships of Family:
Religion:
Hobbies:
Talents:
Habits:
Speech Pattern:
Sleep Pattern:
BIO:
Other:
Accepted Characters
1.) Jessie - AvengerSpirit
2.) John - JacintoRain
- 21 posts here • Page 1 of 1
The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 4 authors
The hotel room was light only by a few lamps place around the room on the walls. There were overhead lights, but Jessie didn’t want them on. She stood in front of the vanity mirror in the bathroom portion of the room. The countertop was granite, the tile floor pristine white. She had never stayed in such luxury before. This was all hers. It was hard to imagine thousands of rooms just like the one she was living in would one day legally belong to her once her father died. The bathroom wasn’t even the most expensive part of the room.
There was a knock on the door and the young woman turned her head around, hair whipping through the air. “The dress maker.” Her voice was slightly rougher in a lower octave that what she would be using tonight. She turned and left the bathroom area and headed down a small hallway to the sitting area that separated the room into three areas. There was the foyer where the tv and sitting places were, the bathroom and then her own room where a door closed it off from the rest of the suite. She even had a balcony off her room. She unbolted the door and opened it for the woman. She was carrying a large garment bag with the dress she was being forced to wear.
“Here now, deary. It’s even the colors you agreed to.”
Well, that’s a relief. “Thanks.” Jessie said, her voice reverting automatically to the higher pitch tone she used for Cara. She watched as the dress was pulled out of the bag and laid carefully across the back of one of the chairs. The bodice was a beautiful emerald green that went to the waist. Intricate designs were hand sown onto it giving the rich fabric an even more luxurious feeling. The full skirt was a deep midnight blue that had a drape of green ruffled fabric over top of it. It was gorgeous even she had to admit it. Jess didn’t want to wear it.
“Let’s get you into this.” Picking up the dress the seamstress unlaced the back and opened it up. Jessie just stared into the blackness. “Miss, you are going to be late. Please hurry.”
With a shake of her head, she stripped off her shirt and threw it onto the ground at her feet. She did the same with the pants. Looking at the other woman, she saw her eyes glancing at the scar tissue on her left side.
“Reckless childhood accident.” Jessie said as she stepped into the dress. The seamstress took a few seconds before pulling the bodice up to her chest.
“Oh, my lady. Please forgive me for staring.”
“It’s not your fault.”
The seamstress pulled the fabric tight against the ribs and the chest. Then she started the long process of lacing the dress together.
“Now listen. I have put a few extras into the fabric. There is a place for your guns or knives.”
“What are you talking about?” Jessie asked trying to keep her voice composed.
“My lady, if you do not mind my speaking I know what you do and do not want to leave you completely unprotected.”
“How do you know?”
“Let us not worry about the details. Just know my paychecks come from the same line.”
Same line. It was something she had heard when she first started as a messenger. It was what was said by one member to let someone else know they were in on the war as well. She just didn’t know if the saying meant they were on the same side, but it did tell her what the job the woman used as a cover up.
By the time the dress was fully on Jessie wanted out of it. The bodice was tight on her torso showing off her slender frame which was something most all of her clothes hid. The full skirt hide the gun she had tied into the folds, Tessa the seamstress had sowed in for her. It also allowed her to carry both her hand held which was her connection to updates on missions as well as her switchblade. Overall, she should have been happy. But she hated skirts and dresses. She felt so limited on what she could do. There was no way in hell she would be able to run let alone flip or anything else she was used to doing.
“You look stunning.” Glancing in the full standing mirror in the foyer, Jessie was almost inclined to agree. At least until her eyes made it to her face. It was only the dress that was stunning. She was plain, ordinary. Straight brown hair, plain eyes and common features. She wasn’t the kind of person who stood out from the crowd even if she had wanted. And the only thing people cared about in this world was money and looks. Both of which she really didn’t have.
Tessa seemed to see the forlorn look in her eyes and she put a hand on her bare shoulder. “I’ll do your hair too so you can see what I do.”
Jessie rolled her eyes. What does she do in the war? We’re on the same side, but she works as a seamstress to the rich which is usually a middle class job. I’ll have to think about this tonight.
It took a while longer for her hair to be curled and put up onto the top of her head. All this priming and she still didn’t understand the point. None of it was useful. Paraded to the full mirror again Jessie finally got to see the finished produce. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail and curled which several strands were pinned in various places so it didn’t appear that there was a hair band holding it all together. She also had two front curls framing her face. If she managed to smile she might actually think she was pretty for the first time.
The others are going to have a hoot about all of this. First they get me into a dress, then do my hair. If any of them say anything I swear I’ll gut them.
“All right. Hold still.”
Jessie turned and looked over at Tessa who was pulling some jewelry out of a box. “What are you doing?” The pitch of her voice started dropping to a lower octave in reaction to her suspicions.
“Accessories for the dress. Here.” The other woman stood behind her and secured an emerald green choker with a drop pendant to her neck. It was beautiful. It didn’t belong on her. “And here put these on.” Tessa handed over a pair of matching earrings.
Jessie stared down at them before she started laughing. “Not sure if anyone told you, but I don’t have my ears pierced.”
“Oh.” The other woman seemed taken back on the simple fact that a female didn’t at least have one set of holes in her ears. “Clip ons simply won’t last the night and we don’t have time to pierce them.” She shrugged as she took them back. “Word to the wise, Miss Cara. You need to do everything you can to blend in with this world. You might have been able to keep your duel identities hidden easily in the lower classes, but here even something as trivial as not having your ears pierced makes you stand out.”
Unsure of what to say exactly, Jess just turned back to face her reflection in the mirror. The question still is do I really want to blend in here. The only reason Mr. Sykes even wants to make me his heir is because he has no other children. Which I still want to know how he found out about me. I wasn’t raised in the upper class and everyone out there probably knows it. So why bother trying to blend in…? Unless it could get me advanced like the others… The thought stayed with her as Tessa attached a bracelet to her wrist and pulled out a pair of blue heels almost dark enough to be called black.
“I’m not wearing them.”
“Yes, you are.” The two of them bickered more before Jessie consented to wearing the heels. Finally she was ready to head to the gala which had already begun. She was late, but did it really matter? It was her event. Couldn’t she be late?
“Now, Miss, go find yourself a prince or a lord at least.” Tessa said with a smile on her face. Jessie still hadn’t figured out the woman and she wasn’t sure if she was even going to be able to.
Not long after leaving the comfort of her hotel suite, Jessie found herself standing outside of the doors to the ballroom. There were two people standing outside to open the doors for her even thought she would much rather have just slipped in unnoticed. Or if she could have just skipped the whole event she would have been much happier.
The doors opened and she started into the room. She could already tell this wasn’t going to be something she liked. Everything she had ever seen about rich formal parties couldn’t be more right. They danced around in oversized ball gowns to classical music, stood around and gossiped at least the women; the men seemed to be as displeased at being there as she did.
Turning her head she caught sight of a man holding a mic. He was staring at her as if impatient.
“Uh, hi… can I just go down?” She was trying to be polite.
“After I announce you.” Could the response have been any snobbier?
“Cara –”
“Oh, its you.”
Putting the mic to his mouth, he tested it to drag everyone’s attention to where Jessie was standing. She could feel her face starting to turn red. She hated being the center of attention.
“Announcing Miss Cara Sykes.”
“No, my name is Cara McCall-Sykes.” Technically her birth certificate was still just Cara McCall and she didn’t plan on changing it any time soon.
“Excuse me. Announcing Miss Cara McCall-Sykes.”
Finally able to enter the ballroom, Jessie headed down the stairs and looked for a place where she could just disappear until her father decided to embarrass her more by appointing her his heir.
She headed straight for the food and drink table. If she was lucky everyone would just forget she was there. Except she remembered she was the reason they were there in the first place. She knew her friends were probably there as well.
Her friends. She wasn’t sure if she would even recognize them. They didn’t know she was Cara. They only knew her as Jessie. She wasn’t even sure if they knew what she looked like of if she would know them if she’d seen them. Night time was about the only times they got missions and it made for poor lighting to see by. Her friends were still a sticky situation when it came to her father.
While he had agreed just so she would move in, he didn’t like the fact that she wouldn’t tell him who her friends were. She knew the names they went by just like her, so it wasn’t uncommon that they didn’t know each others real names. So whenever they wanted a place to chill especially after missions now she just called down to the desk and got as many rooms as close to hers as needed.
Finally at the food and drink table Jessie got herself a glass of water. At least what she thought was water until she took a sip. She hated vodka. Well straight vodka. Turning to the person behind the table she glanced around to see the other drinks.
“I need something to put into this or I can I just get straight water or a good whiskey?”
“Whiskey is the man’s drink.”
“Then give it to me.” Jessie said. The man hesitated before handing her a coup and she gladly traded the vodka for it. Taking her drink she found a column and put her back to it and stared around. The dance floor was packed. She didn’t want to go out there and show just how badly she couldn’t dance. She was content to stand around, drink her whiskey and see if she could pin point any of her friends.
There was a knock on the door and the young woman turned her head around, hair whipping through the air. “The dress maker.” Her voice was slightly rougher in a lower octave that what she would be using tonight. She turned and left the bathroom area and headed down a small hallway to the sitting area that separated the room into three areas. There was the foyer where the tv and sitting places were, the bathroom and then her own room where a door closed it off from the rest of the suite. She even had a balcony off her room. She unbolted the door and opened it for the woman. She was carrying a large garment bag with the dress she was being forced to wear.
“Here now, deary. It’s even the colors you agreed to.”
Well, that’s a relief. “Thanks.” Jessie said, her voice reverting automatically to the higher pitch tone she used for Cara. She watched as the dress was pulled out of the bag and laid carefully across the back of one of the chairs. The bodice was a beautiful emerald green that went to the waist. Intricate designs were hand sown onto it giving the rich fabric an even more luxurious feeling. The full skirt was a deep midnight blue that had a drape of green ruffled fabric over top of it. It was gorgeous even she had to admit it. Jess didn’t want to wear it.
“Let’s get you into this.” Picking up the dress the seamstress unlaced the back and opened it up. Jessie just stared into the blackness. “Miss, you are going to be late. Please hurry.”
With a shake of her head, she stripped off her shirt and threw it onto the ground at her feet. She did the same with the pants. Looking at the other woman, she saw her eyes glancing at the scar tissue on her left side.
“Reckless childhood accident.” Jessie said as she stepped into the dress. The seamstress took a few seconds before pulling the bodice up to her chest.
“Oh, my lady. Please forgive me for staring.”
“It’s not your fault.”
The seamstress pulled the fabric tight against the ribs and the chest. Then she started the long process of lacing the dress together.
“Now listen. I have put a few extras into the fabric. There is a place for your guns or knives.”
“What are you talking about?” Jessie asked trying to keep her voice composed.
“My lady, if you do not mind my speaking I know what you do and do not want to leave you completely unprotected.”
“How do you know?”
“Let us not worry about the details. Just know my paychecks come from the same line.”
Same line. It was something she had heard when she first started as a messenger. It was what was said by one member to let someone else know they were in on the war as well. She just didn’t know if the saying meant they were on the same side, but it did tell her what the job the woman used as a cover up.
By the time the dress was fully on Jessie wanted out of it. The bodice was tight on her torso showing off her slender frame which was something most all of her clothes hid. The full skirt hide the gun she had tied into the folds, Tessa the seamstress had sowed in for her. It also allowed her to carry both her hand held which was her connection to updates on missions as well as her switchblade. Overall, she should have been happy. But she hated skirts and dresses. She felt so limited on what she could do. There was no way in hell she would be able to run let alone flip or anything else she was used to doing.
“You look stunning.” Glancing in the full standing mirror in the foyer, Jessie was almost inclined to agree. At least until her eyes made it to her face. It was only the dress that was stunning. She was plain, ordinary. Straight brown hair, plain eyes and common features. She wasn’t the kind of person who stood out from the crowd even if she had wanted. And the only thing people cared about in this world was money and looks. Both of which she really didn’t have.
Tessa seemed to see the forlorn look in her eyes and she put a hand on her bare shoulder. “I’ll do your hair too so you can see what I do.”
Jessie rolled her eyes. What does she do in the war? We’re on the same side, but she works as a seamstress to the rich which is usually a middle class job. I’ll have to think about this tonight.
It took a while longer for her hair to be curled and put up onto the top of her head. All this priming and she still didn’t understand the point. None of it was useful. Paraded to the full mirror again Jessie finally got to see the finished produce. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail and curled which several strands were pinned in various places so it didn’t appear that there was a hair band holding it all together. She also had two front curls framing her face. If she managed to smile she might actually think she was pretty for the first time.
The others are going to have a hoot about all of this. First they get me into a dress, then do my hair. If any of them say anything I swear I’ll gut them.
“All right. Hold still.”
Jessie turned and looked over at Tessa who was pulling some jewelry out of a box. “What are you doing?” The pitch of her voice started dropping to a lower octave in reaction to her suspicions.
“Accessories for the dress. Here.” The other woman stood behind her and secured an emerald green choker with a drop pendant to her neck. It was beautiful. It didn’t belong on her. “And here put these on.” Tessa handed over a pair of matching earrings.
Jessie stared down at them before she started laughing. “Not sure if anyone told you, but I don’t have my ears pierced.”
“Oh.” The other woman seemed taken back on the simple fact that a female didn’t at least have one set of holes in her ears. “Clip ons simply won’t last the night and we don’t have time to pierce them.” She shrugged as she took them back. “Word to the wise, Miss Cara. You need to do everything you can to blend in with this world. You might have been able to keep your duel identities hidden easily in the lower classes, but here even something as trivial as not having your ears pierced makes you stand out.”
Unsure of what to say exactly, Jess just turned back to face her reflection in the mirror. The question still is do I really want to blend in here. The only reason Mr. Sykes even wants to make me his heir is because he has no other children. Which I still want to know how he found out about me. I wasn’t raised in the upper class and everyone out there probably knows it. So why bother trying to blend in…? Unless it could get me advanced like the others… The thought stayed with her as Tessa attached a bracelet to her wrist and pulled out a pair of blue heels almost dark enough to be called black.
“I’m not wearing them.”
“Yes, you are.” The two of them bickered more before Jessie consented to wearing the heels. Finally she was ready to head to the gala which had already begun. She was late, but did it really matter? It was her event. Couldn’t she be late?
“Now, Miss, go find yourself a prince or a lord at least.” Tessa said with a smile on her face. Jessie still hadn’t figured out the woman and she wasn’t sure if she was even going to be able to.
Not long after leaving the comfort of her hotel suite, Jessie found herself standing outside of the doors to the ballroom. There were two people standing outside to open the doors for her even thought she would much rather have just slipped in unnoticed. Or if she could have just skipped the whole event she would have been much happier.
The doors opened and she started into the room. She could already tell this wasn’t going to be something she liked. Everything she had ever seen about rich formal parties couldn’t be more right. They danced around in oversized ball gowns to classical music, stood around and gossiped at least the women; the men seemed to be as displeased at being there as she did.
Turning her head she caught sight of a man holding a mic. He was staring at her as if impatient.
“Uh, hi… can I just go down?” She was trying to be polite.
“After I announce you.” Could the response have been any snobbier?
“Cara –”
“Oh, its you.”
Putting the mic to his mouth, he tested it to drag everyone’s attention to where Jessie was standing. She could feel her face starting to turn red. She hated being the center of attention.
“Announcing Miss Cara Sykes.”
“No, my name is Cara McCall-Sykes.” Technically her birth certificate was still just Cara McCall and she didn’t plan on changing it any time soon.
“Excuse me. Announcing Miss Cara McCall-Sykes.”
Finally able to enter the ballroom, Jessie headed down the stairs and looked for a place where she could just disappear until her father decided to embarrass her more by appointing her his heir.
She headed straight for the food and drink table. If she was lucky everyone would just forget she was there. Except she remembered she was the reason they were there in the first place. She knew her friends were probably there as well.
Her friends. She wasn’t sure if she would even recognize them. They didn’t know she was Cara. They only knew her as Jessie. She wasn’t even sure if they knew what she looked like of if she would know them if she’d seen them. Night time was about the only times they got missions and it made for poor lighting to see by. Her friends were still a sticky situation when it came to her father.
While he had agreed just so she would move in, he didn’t like the fact that she wouldn’t tell him who her friends were. She knew the names they went by just like her, so it wasn’t uncommon that they didn’t know each others real names. So whenever they wanted a place to chill especially after missions now she just called down to the desk and got as many rooms as close to hers as needed.
Finally at the food and drink table Jessie got herself a glass of water. At least what she thought was water until she took a sip. She hated vodka. Well straight vodka. Turning to the person behind the table she glanced around to see the other drinks.
“I need something to put into this or I can I just get straight water or a good whiskey?”
“Whiskey is the man’s drink.”
“Then give it to me.” Jessie said. The man hesitated before handing her a coup and she gladly traded the vodka for it. Taking her drink she found a column and put her back to it and stared around. The dance floor was packed. She didn’t want to go out there and show just how badly she couldn’t dance. She was content to stand around, drink her whiskey and see if she could pin point any of her friends.
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Heartstopper. It was what everybody called him. He had tried to get people to go back to calling him by his assumed name. He had chosen Jerry when he first joined the war but by the time he was in Cargo they had dubbed him with this, a name that really couldn’t be used in any social circle he would ever attend. Which meant only one thing: He was going to have to tell his real name to people he worked with. The very idea was outrageous to him, yet he knew that his identity was not quite a secret already, which was very dangerous in the game he was playing. He wore a balaclava on missions but people on his side of the field had seen his face, and if any of them were of the same class as he, and educated in the competition, then they would know. So far he had been safe. So far most people had no idea what he looked like, despite the nickname. He had considered killing the people who had given him the name, just to protect himself in the future. He was thinking about it now, as he stared into the mirror and wondered if anybody down at the Gala knew about his secret life. Gossip had a way of spreading like a disease throughout his class and he could not trust everybody he worked with-
Knock, knock. “Room service!” A muffled voice from behind the door put him back on alert.
“Just a moment,” he called back.
C, as he preferred to be called while not on mission, had just finished showering and was taking the few items out of his overnight bag that he would be requiring for the next few days while waiting for refreshments and his clothes to arrive. He walked over to the bathroom door, several scars clearly visible on his back, chest and legs including a barely healed bullet wound on his left buttock. He threw a luxuriant bathrobe on and tied up the waist as he returned to the bed. Over the top was a fresh, oil-resistant sheet. Strewn across that sheet were the disassembled parts of an AR 15 Carbine and various cleaning materials. There wasn’t enough time to cover them without staining the sheets and having people ask questions so he strode across the door and opened it himself, taking the Concierge by surprise.
“Oh, good evening Sir. I have the refreshments you asked for; would you like me to bring them in for you?”
“No,” he replied sharply. The man was confused.
“But Sir, I-“ C cut him off.
“You may notice I’m wearing a bathrobe. My good lady in there is not quite so lavishly adorned, so I will take the tray myself and then you will fetch another robe and silently hang it on the door handle here without disturbing the two of us. Understand? Of course you do.” And with that he grabbed the tray, retreated inside and dumped it on the chest of drawers as he mule-kicked the door shut in the face of the Concierge. Being rich didn’t mean being nice and he had a persona to keep up. And sometimes, it might be that he enjoyed it a little.
“Sorry for the interruption, my lady,” he said aloud, looking at his disassembled weapon. He pulled a bottle of champagne from an ice bucket and started pouring himself a glass. “Care for a drink?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cambray Charon-Craggs, as he now was and would be for the duration of the Gala, worked the room like any other well-born, well-bred, rich man. Being the heir to such a vast fortune attracted a lot of attention and many people in the room knew him by face, or at least the lower half of it. And when these people spoke to him he was courteous, polite and charming, and looked as dashing as a man of his complexion could in a tuxedo. It was all an act of course, and he kept his eyes out for anybody who might display any characteristics of a soldier. He could never be sure he was safe, therefore everybody was a potential threat.
“Young Dr. Craggs, how delightful to see you.” Cambray was approached by a man whom he recognised more than any other in the room. He pulled an obviously forced smile from nowhere and extended his hand to shake.
“Lord Manderley, it’s a pleasure as always.” Half of Cambray’s training involved knowing the competition and getting the best of them. Lord Manderley was head of LiveLong’s closest rival: Biosol. “How is business?” He gave his largest, falsest smile and Manderley’s own grin flickered.
“Marvellous, thank you for asking. How about your own? Oh wait.” The handshake ended. “You don’t actually own a company yet, do you?” He gave a mock laugh that even a child would know was intended to be insulting. Cambray’s smile did not falter.
“No I don’t, but I still somehow managed to make more money than you in the last quarter. Was it twenty-six million? Still, I guess it’s a slow season for everybody, right?” He returned the laughter and made his excuses, leaving Manderley a little redder than when they had started speaking. In actual fact Biosol had grown by a higher percentage than LiveLong in the last quarter, but profit margins had been way down and the CO’s personal gain was far lower than normal. With the cuts from the deals his Father had set up, Cambray had actually earned more than the man and was already amassing a hefty fortune just working for the company. And right there, Cambray had to admit that his Father’s way of dealing with the competition was far more fun than he had hoped.
Cambray was two glasses of champagne down and was not a heavy drinker so decided his next should be his last. He went to the bar and ordered a glass of cognac as yet another announcement was made, but this one caught his attention. One Miss Sykes had entered the room, which meant only one thing.
“Cara…” he said to himself, rolling the name around his mouth. It didn’t quite feel right; he was far too used to Jessie. Still, when she found out his own name he imagined she might feel the same. He waited until she had wandered the room a while and then approached when she leant up against a column. It was definitely her, nobody else could look so out of place despite the obvious effort to make them blend in. He took the column’s next face around from her and leant his back up against it in the same way.
“That outfit needs earrings,” he said, staring straight ahead and pretending to examine a painting on the wall. Maybe it was the drinks, maybe the atmosphere, maybe making a mockery of Lord Manderley, but this evening he was in a good mood. The constant babble of chatter and laughter ensured privacy provided he spoke a little quieter than normal.
“If somebody was looking for you they wouldn’t find it too difficult.” He wasn’t one to talk, he was instantly recognisable at these gatherings, but this night wasn’t about him. He leant forward and took a few steps around so he could face his friend. On closer examination he could see it was her, but she looked very different when dressed up in a gown. He held out his hand to shake and put on his most charming smile, which was one that stretched his scar tissue as little as possible.
“Dr. Cambray Charon-Craggs. Miss Cara McCall-Sykes, I presume?” He leaned a little closer and let his voice fall, losing all its flowing, pleasant qualities and returning to the usual state of near-monotony that was his natural soldier voice. “We should get married; it’d make for one hell of a surname,” he joked. Then he leant back and the act was up again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, and may I say that you look very elegant this evening.” He didn’t break character, though he knew that she would be feeling far less comfortable here than in her uniform. He still had hold of her hand and so asked, before she could retort: “Care to dance?”
Cambray had no fantasies of a flawless waltz or a perfect evening for the two of them. He was not on a mission which meant that he was working. And for him to be seen dancing with the freshest talking point in the high circles was just good publicity. Besides which, her Father was incredibly wealthy and he had every intention of making a good impression.
Knock, knock. “Room service!” A muffled voice from behind the door put him back on alert.
“Just a moment,” he called back.
C, as he preferred to be called while not on mission, had just finished showering and was taking the few items out of his overnight bag that he would be requiring for the next few days while waiting for refreshments and his clothes to arrive. He walked over to the bathroom door, several scars clearly visible on his back, chest and legs including a barely healed bullet wound on his left buttock. He threw a luxuriant bathrobe on and tied up the waist as he returned to the bed. Over the top was a fresh, oil-resistant sheet. Strewn across that sheet were the disassembled parts of an AR 15 Carbine and various cleaning materials. There wasn’t enough time to cover them without staining the sheets and having people ask questions so he strode across the door and opened it himself, taking the Concierge by surprise.
“Oh, good evening Sir. I have the refreshments you asked for; would you like me to bring them in for you?”
“No,” he replied sharply. The man was confused.
“But Sir, I-“ C cut him off.
“You may notice I’m wearing a bathrobe. My good lady in there is not quite so lavishly adorned, so I will take the tray myself and then you will fetch another robe and silently hang it on the door handle here without disturbing the two of us. Understand? Of course you do.” And with that he grabbed the tray, retreated inside and dumped it on the chest of drawers as he mule-kicked the door shut in the face of the Concierge. Being rich didn’t mean being nice and he had a persona to keep up. And sometimes, it might be that he enjoyed it a little.
“Sorry for the interruption, my lady,” he said aloud, looking at his disassembled weapon. He pulled a bottle of champagne from an ice bucket and started pouring himself a glass. “Care for a drink?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cambray Charon-Craggs, as he now was and would be for the duration of the Gala, worked the room like any other well-born, well-bred, rich man. Being the heir to such a vast fortune attracted a lot of attention and many people in the room knew him by face, or at least the lower half of it. And when these people spoke to him he was courteous, polite and charming, and looked as dashing as a man of his complexion could in a tuxedo. It was all an act of course, and he kept his eyes out for anybody who might display any characteristics of a soldier. He could never be sure he was safe, therefore everybody was a potential threat.
“Young Dr. Craggs, how delightful to see you.” Cambray was approached by a man whom he recognised more than any other in the room. He pulled an obviously forced smile from nowhere and extended his hand to shake.
“Lord Manderley, it’s a pleasure as always.” Half of Cambray’s training involved knowing the competition and getting the best of them. Lord Manderley was head of LiveLong’s closest rival: Biosol. “How is business?” He gave his largest, falsest smile and Manderley’s own grin flickered.
“Marvellous, thank you for asking. How about your own? Oh wait.” The handshake ended. “You don’t actually own a company yet, do you?” He gave a mock laugh that even a child would know was intended to be insulting. Cambray’s smile did not falter.
“No I don’t, but I still somehow managed to make more money than you in the last quarter. Was it twenty-six million? Still, I guess it’s a slow season for everybody, right?” He returned the laughter and made his excuses, leaving Manderley a little redder than when they had started speaking. In actual fact Biosol had grown by a higher percentage than LiveLong in the last quarter, but profit margins had been way down and the CO’s personal gain was far lower than normal. With the cuts from the deals his Father had set up, Cambray had actually earned more than the man and was already amassing a hefty fortune just working for the company. And right there, Cambray had to admit that his Father’s way of dealing with the competition was far more fun than he had hoped.
Cambray was two glasses of champagne down and was not a heavy drinker so decided his next should be his last. He went to the bar and ordered a glass of cognac as yet another announcement was made, but this one caught his attention. One Miss Sykes had entered the room, which meant only one thing.
“Cara…” he said to himself, rolling the name around his mouth. It didn’t quite feel right; he was far too used to Jessie. Still, when she found out his own name he imagined she might feel the same. He waited until she had wandered the room a while and then approached when she leant up against a column. It was definitely her, nobody else could look so out of place despite the obvious effort to make them blend in. He took the column’s next face around from her and leant his back up against it in the same way.
“That outfit needs earrings,” he said, staring straight ahead and pretending to examine a painting on the wall. Maybe it was the drinks, maybe the atmosphere, maybe making a mockery of Lord Manderley, but this evening he was in a good mood. The constant babble of chatter and laughter ensured privacy provided he spoke a little quieter than normal.
“If somebody was looking for you they wouldn’t find it too difficult.” He wasn’t one to talk, he was instantly recognisable at these gatherings, but this night wasn’t about him. He leant forward and took a few steps around so he could face his friend. On closer examination he could see it was her, but she looked very different when dressed up in a gown. He held out his hand to shake and put on his most charming smile, which was one that stretched his scar tissue as little as possible.
“Dr. Cambray Charon-Craggs. Miss Cara McCall-Sykes, I presume?” He leaned a little closer and let his voice fall, losing all its flowing, pleasant qualities and returning to the usual state of near-monotony that was his natural soldier voice. “We should get married; it’d make for one hell of a surname,” he joked. Then he leant back and the act was up again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, and may I say that you look very elegant this evening.” He didn’t break character, though he knew that she would be feeling far less comfortable here than in her uniform. He still had hold of her hand and so asked, before she could retort: “Care to dance?”
Cambray had no fantasies of a flawless waltz or a perfect evening for the two of them. He was not on a mission which meant that he was working. And for him to be seen dancing with the freshest talking point in the high circles was just good publicity. Besides which, her Father was incredibly wealthy and he had every intention of making a good impression.
"Geez, if I have to attend one more gala before the Year's end, I'm personally bankrupting the company myself." Mich complained to himself. "Day in and day out, pr this, money that, don't do this, do that. Give me a break." He took a swig of mouthwash before he left the bathroom. He didn't want to be here, but had to be because of business, Ruth tech was looking to make a deal with Sykes in order to raise sales of a newly created servant drone. Normally only his mother would attend, but he need to get to know Sykes' heir so that deals would go over smoother in the future.
He walked out of the bathroom and took a left, leading him to the door which would lead him to his room. On the lavish bed were his suit, his knife, his pistol, and a flashbang grenade. Quickly throwing on his orange undershirt and matching pinstriped jacket and slacks, he looked over his mini arsenal. He sheathed the knife in his left sleeve quickly brandishing it afterwords to make sure it wouldn't catch any stray threads. He stored the pistol in his jacket, magazine in, safety on. The last object, the flashbang would be difficult to hide. He looked it over for a little, taking dimensional estimates as he went. Mich, or John as he will be calling himself at the gala, finally decided he could hide it in the back of his leg, kicking it out if need be. The watch he always wore gave off a loud, ticking sound,meaning he only had a few minutes to get down to the ball room.
He was announced in, much to no one's surprise and or interest. The knew his mother though, and she was already there, he could see her. No competitors had arrived, much to his surprise. He made his way through the crowd before pulling out his phone, and going through some blueprints he recently wrote out, nothing special, just some miscellaneous pen designs and whatnot. However, John's head perked up when he heard the announcement of Cara Mcall-Sykes. "Bingo" he couldn't help but say. He would wait until she leaned up and into up against a pillar, followed by another person, around his age. Heartstopper.
He deftly weaved through the mass until he came up to the heir. "John Ruthersford," he extended a hand, "Congratulations." He knew heartstopper and her and been talking for a little, but waited for a break to introduce himself. He couldn't help but notice, though, that she was missing earings. "Excuse me,but did you lose your earings on the way here, I would help you look if you did." The false sentiment was glaring at him, and the formality of his tone didn't help. He sighed and leaned on the other side of the pillar, starting to go through his E-mails.
He walked out of the bathroom and took a left, leading him to the door which would lead him to his room. On the lavish bed were his suit, his knife, his pistol, and a flashbang grenade. Quickly throwing on his orange undershirt and matching pinstriped jacket and slacks, he looked over his mini arsenal. He sheathed the knife in his left sleeve quickly brandishing it afterwords to make sure it wouldn't catch any stray threads. He stored the pistol in his jacket, magazine in, safety on. The last object, the flashbang would be difficult to hide. He looked it over for a little, taking dimensional estimates as he went. Mich, or John as he will be calling himself at the gala, finally decided he could hide it in the back of his leg, kicking it out if need be. The watch he always wore gave off a loud, ticking sound,meaning he only had a few minutes to get down to the ball room.
He was announced in, much to no one's surprise and or interest. The knew his mother though, and she was already there, he could see her. No competitors had arrived, much to his surprise. He made his way through the crowd before pulling out his phone, and going through some blueprints he recently wrote out, nothing special, just some miscellaneous pen designs and whatnot. However, John's head perked up when he heard the announcement of Cara Mcall-Sykes. "Bingo" he couldn't help but say. He would wait until she leaned up and into up against a pillar, followed by another person, around his age. Heartstopper.
He deftly weaved through the mass until he came up to the heir. "John Ruthersford," he extended a hand, "Congratulations." He knew heartstopper and her and been talking for a little, but waited for a break to introduce himself. He couldn't help but notice, though, that she was missing earings. "Excuse me,but did you lose your earings on the way here, I would help you look if you did." The false sentiment was glaring at him, and the formality of his tone didn't help. He sighed and leaned on the other side of the pillar, starting to go through his E-mails.
Desirée scurried around the room, trying to gather her things. She didn’t want to forget anything, and most importantly, she did not want everyone to stare at her if she showed up late. A towel was wrapped around her body and her hair was still damp from the shower she had just recently taken. The girl scrambled from one side of the room to the other, making sure she had everything prepared.
Chuckling could be heard and she frowned as she turned around to the source of the mockery.
“It’s a gala, ma’am, I have to go looking appropriate.” She whined.
An older woman was sitting on her bed and laughing at her acting all frantic.
“Don’t worry dear; you’ll look magnificent; especially with this dress.” She said as she looked over at the scarlet dress lying on the bed.
Desirée couldn’t help but smile. She was grateful to the woman. Her social skills had come in handy once again. She had befriended a good number of people at the hotel, and this particular woman, Margaret, treated her like a daughter. When Desirée had told her about her problem with something appropriate to wear for the gala, the elder woman immediately offered for her to borrow one. At first, she was reluctant, but then eventually gave in, very thankful to her.
Being of the lower class, she didn’t have money to buy pretty dresses that were suitable for the galas held at the hotel. It was much too high class for her. Sure, she was thankful to Jessie for allowing her to live in the hotel, but she always felt out of place. She knew she would feel even more like an alien when she attended the gala tonight.
Desirée ran back into the bathroom to dry her hair with the hairdryer, taking care to not leave a single strand damp. She couldn’t imagine how ridiculous she would look with hair that wasn’t even properly taken care of. All the high class people probably could go to a salon to get everything done for them. After she finished drying her hair she pulled off the towel and slipped into her undergarments.
When she returned to the room the woman was holding up the dress, waiting for her to put it on. The African girl smiled and obeyed cheerfully, slipping into the silky dress and pulling her hair aside so that the woman could zip the back up. When she turned to look in the mirror, she touched her lips with her hand. The dress was so beautiful. It was definitely the most gorgeous thing she had ever been able to wear.
“Sit here.” She heard the woman say.
Desirée complied and sat down on the chair in front of the mirror. When the woman unlocked the chest of jewels, she gasped. So many crystals and jewelry shone and gleamed. The lady picked out ruby earrings and a red collar to go around her neck; she even cuffed on a bracelet for her.
“Sorry that we don’t have time to do your hair, sweetie.” She apologized.
Desirée quickly jumped up and shook her head.
“No! I mean, thank you so much. I can just curl it a bit and it will be fine. Thank you, very, very, very much ma’am. I don’t know how to repay you.” She said.
The woman smiled and replied, “Just have fun.”
Desirée laughed and started to put on her make-up. All she had to do was add on a light layer of foundation to make her skin appear flawless. She then slipped on her heels and then quickly curled her hair so that it had a wavy appearance – it would do. When the woman slipped out of the room to answer a phone call, Desirée strapped on two belts under her dress, one on each leg. They held her small guns and a dagger – one never knew what could happen. She quickly smoothed out her dress and put on a smile before walking out the door to say goodbye to Margaret.
She headed down to the gala, and as she did, a smirk came over her face when she pictured Jessie in a dress.
“Announcing Miss Cara Sykes.” She heard the man introduce.
So… she’s the big shot we’re all here for. Desirée thought.
She was chatting to some people before the heiress arrived. They now all focused their attention on Cara. Desirée sighed and watched the young woman come down the stairs. She already had enough attention as it was, meaning she didn’t need Desirée trying to go up to her and try to talk to her. Not soon after that thought that, she saw a man approach Cara, followed by another. Huh. The group looked vaguely familiar. She wanted to go over to the group, but she was sure everyone had their eyes on the group already; she didn’t want to be the center of attention. Desirée stayed somewhere to the side, where she could still observe the group, but far enough so it wasn’t blatantly obvious she was waiting for her turn to speak to Cara.
Chuckling could be heard and she frowned as she turned around to the source of the mockery.
“It’s a gala, ma’am, I have to go looking appropriate.” She whined.
An older woman was sitting on her bed and laughing at her acting all frantic.
“Don’t worry dear; you’ll look magnificent; especially with this dress.” She said as she looked over at the scarlet dress lying on the bed.
Desirée couldn’t help but smile. She was grateful to the woman. Her social skills had come in handy once again. She had befriended a good number of people at the hotel, and this particular woman, Margaret, treated her like a daughter. When Desirée had told her about her problem with something appropriate to wear for the gala, the elder woman immediately offered for her to borrow one. At first, she was reluctant, but then eventually gave in, very thankful to her.
Being of the lower class, she didn’t have money to buy pretty dresses that were suitable for the galas held at the hotel. It was much too high class for her. Sure, she was thankful to Jessie for allowing her to live in the hotel, but she always felt out of place. She knew she would feel even more like an alien when she attended the gala tonight.
Desirée ran back into the bathroom to dry her hair with the hairdryer, taking care to not leave a single strand damp. She couldn’t imagine how ridiculous she would look with hair that wasn’t even properly taken care of. All the high class people probably could go to a salon to get everything done for them. After she finished drying her hair she pulled off the towel and slipped into her undergarments.
When she returned to the room the woman was holding up the dress, waiting for her to put it on. The African girl smiled and obeyed cheerfully, slipping into the silky dress and pulling her hair aside so that the woman could zip the back up. When she turned to look in the mirror, she touched her lips with her hand. The dress was so beautiful. It was definitely the most gorgeous thing she had ever been able to wear.
“Sit here.” She heard the woman say.
Desirée complied and sat down on the chair in front of the mirror. When the woman unlocked the chest of jewels, she gasped. So many crystals and jewelry shone and gleamed. The lady picked out ruby earrings and a red collar to go around her neck; she even cuffed on a bracelet for her.
“Sorry that we don’t have time to do your hair, sweetie.” She apologized.
Desirée quickly jumped up and shook her head.
“No! I mean, thank you so much. I can just curl it a bit and it will be fine. Thank you, very, very, very much ma’am. I don’t know how to repay you.” She said.
The woman smiled and replied, “Just have fun.”
Desirée laughed and started to put on her make-up. All she had to do was add on a light layer of foundation to make her skin appear flawless. She then slipped on her heels and then quickly curled her hair so that it had a wavy appearance – it would do. When the woman slipped out of the room to answer a phone call, Desirée strapped on two belts under her dress, one on each leg. They held her small guns and a dagger – one never knew what could happen. She quickly smoothed out her dress and put on a smile before walking out the door to say goodbye to Margaret.
She headed down to the gala, and as she did, a smirk came over her face when she pictured Jessie in a dress.
“Announcing Miss Cara Sykes.” She heard the man introduce.
So… she’s the big shot we’re all here for. Desirée thought.
She was chatting to some people before the heiress arrived. They now all focused their attention on Cara. Desirée sighed and watched the young woman come down the stairs. She already had enough attention as it was, meaning she didn’t need Desirée trying to go up to her and try to talk to her. Not soon after that thought that, she saw a man approach Cara, followed by another. Huh. The group looked vaguely familiar. She wanted to go over to the group, but she was sure everyone had their eyes on the group already; she didn’t want to be the center of attention. Desirée stayed somewhere to the side, where she could still observe the group, but far enough so it wasn’t blatantly obvious she was waiting for her turn to speak to Cara.
The whiskey wasn’t helping her get through the annoyance she was facing during the gala. She didn’t much care either that her drink was out of place because it was a man’s drink or any other such oddness about her. She imaged everyone one of the women in the room save Jane were talking about her. Hell, the men probably too. Since her father owned the air carriers his heir was someone everyone needed to buddy up to. Well, they were going to find that little miss Cara just wasn’t someone that was going to be talked over and sweet talked. She had lived her life in the real world and the part of her that gave a damn about what people thought had died with her mother. That grave had been dug and buried.
Feeling someone come near her, her mind wandered to all of the things they would want her for. Cuddle up to get something, threaten, poke fun… yeah the list is longer than I care to think about.
“That outfit needs earrings,” The voice said. Something about the voice was oddly familiar, but she wasn’t questioning it yet. She knew a lot of voices were similar to ones she had heard before, but that didn’t mean anything. As the male voice continued to speak, she could only laugh. Of course she wouldn’t be hard to find. She was probably one of the only females that wasn’t either dancing or huddled in a large group of other women gossiping. She didn’t want to be here. Her party or not.
When Heartstopper came around the column to where she could see him, she had to hold back a smile from her face. They weren’t supposed to know each other so she had to play along. Though they knew each other well enough to be called friends. She knew how dangerous he was while the majority of the people in the room didn’t. She took his hand to shake it when it was offered to her. Playing along was such a pain sometimes.
Jessie laughed at the notion of getting married though she was still using Cara’s voice. She imaged it was actually pretty as compared to the normal voice that she hid from everyone except soldiers.
“It would make quite a name. Though I doubt I would actually change mine at all.” Since no one knew Sykes wasn’t a normal part of her name, only she got the real meaning behind the comment, but it was enough for her. “Why thank you.” She was still trying to get used to the way the upper class people spoke. She wasn’t used to having to choose her words specifically. She was normally the type of person who just said the first thing that came to find.
“Oh, no I don’t –” Another person walked over before she could find tell Mr. Charon-Craggs that she didn’t dance. She wasn’t about to make a fool of herself any worse than she already had.
Taking her hand from Heartstopper she took the extended hand of John. Yeah, she knew him by another name too. Once she thought fit him a lot better than the common one he was forced to use. Though why he was congratulating her she didn’t know, but when he too started on about the earrings she was sure she was going to do something so out of character. I can’t believe Tessa was right. How could not having my ears pierced really stand out that much? Mom had hers, but se gave me the option. I never wanted them.
“No, I didn’t lose them,” Another contraction that made her stand out from the people that everyone seemed to what her to fit in with. But at least now she had two of her friends around her. But there was one of them had that was still missing.
Glancing around the room, she let her eyes wander until she found the form she was looking for. Once she was sure she had the woman’s attention, she tilted her head in the direction of Jane and then jerked it back in hers. She would feel a lot better with her around. She wouldn’t feel so out of place with only it only being her, the middle poor kid, in the sea of rich people.
Jessie took another sip out of the cup and noticed that she was getting low. She really wanted to get another drink, but she knew the men would be inclined to get it for her and she wasn’t so sure they would be willing to break any social rules they may have had to actually get her a whiskey and not some little fruity drink she served to most of the girls at her bar.
“Would it be considered rude of me not to dance with either of you?” She asked the both of them. They had “danced” together before, but a much different dance than what the people here would be expecting from them. She knew a lot of things they would probably be expecting of her. Things she wouldn’t be doing any time soon. She rather liked her freedom and she wasn’t giving any of it up. She just hoped that by becoming her father’s heir she wasn’t signing herself up for something she really couldn’t handle.
Feeling someone come near her, her mind wandered to all of the things they would want her for. Cuddle up to get something, threaten, poke fun… yeah the list is longer than I care to think about.
“That outfit needs earrings,” The voice said. Something about the voice was oddly familiar, but she wasn’t questioning it yet. She knew a lot of voices were similar to ones she had heard before, but that didn’t mean anything. As the male voice continued to speak, she could only laugh. Of course she wouldn’t be hard to find. She was probably one of the only females that wasn’t either dancing or huddled in a large group of other women gossiping. She didn’t want to be here. Her party or not.
When Heartstopper came around the column to where she could see him, she had to hold back a smile from her face. They weren’t supposed to know each other so she had to play along. Though they knew each other well enough to be called friends. She knew how dangerous he was while the majority of the people in the room didn’t. She took his hand to shake it when it was offered to her. Playing along was such a pain sometimes.
Jessie laughed at the notion of getting married though she was still using Cara’s voice. She imaged it was actually pretty as compared to the normal voice that she hid from everyone except soldiers.
“It would make quite a name. Though I doubt I would actually change mine at all.” Since no one knew Sykes wasn’t a normal part of her name, only she got the real meaning behind the comment, but it was enough for her. “Why thank you.” She was still trying to get used to the way the upper class people spoke. She wasn’t used to having to choose her words specifically. She was normally the type of person who just said the first thing that came to find.
“Oh, no I don’t –” Another person walked over before she could find tell Mr. Charon-Craggs that she didn’t dance. She wasn’t about to make a fool of herself any worse than she already had.
Taking her hand from Heartstopper she took the extended hand of John. Yeah, she knew him by another name too. Once she thought fit him a lot better than the common one he was forced to use. Though why he was congratulating her she didn’t know, but when he too started on about the earrings she was sure she was going to do something so out of character. I can’t believe Tessa was right. How could not having my ears pierced really stand out that much? Mom had hers, but se gave me the option. I never wanted them.
“No, I didn’t lose them,” Another contraction that made her stand out from the people that everyone seemed to what her to fit in with. But at least now she had two of her friends around her. But there was one of them had that was still missing.
Glancing around the room, she let her eyes wander until she found the form she was looking for. Once she was sure she had the woman’s attention, she tilted her head in the direction of Jane and then jerked it back in hers. She would feel a lot better with her around. She wouldn’t feel so out of place with only it only being her, the middle poor kid, in the sea of rich people.
Jessie took another sip out of the cup and noticed that she was getting low. She really wanted to get another drink, but she knew the men would be inclined to get it for her and she wasn’t so sure they would be willing to break any social rules they may have had to actually get her a whiskey and not some little fruity drink she served to most of the girls at her bar.
“Would it be considered rude of me not to dance with either of you?” She asked the both of them. They had “danced” together before, but a much different dance than what the people here would be expecting from them. She knew a lot of things they would probably be expecting of her. Things she wouldn’t be doing any time soon. She rather liked her freedom and she wasn’t giving any of it up. She just hoped that by becoming her father’s heir she wasn’t signing herself up for something she really couldn’t handle.
When he heard Cara, he knew her as Jessie better, speak up he hurriedly put his phone away. If he didn't speak, he would be chastised by most in the room. This left one option, to respond. But the words had to be carefully chosen, otherwise people could get the wrong idea. To much nonchalance and they'll see him as being a player to her, too little excitement could see him looking as boring.
"Well, we have three options. You can walk away and pretend to hate us or seem disintrested. You could accept a dance from one of us, which someone will have to issue soon or else. Finally, I can EMP the hotel and we can leave." He whispered in a hushed tone to her. However, there would be no time for an answer. The crowd had already turned all of it's attention to the three of them. He could tell they were anxious as well.
Finally, someone piped up, "Well, are one of you going to ask her to a dance or are you just going to waste our time?!" It was a portly man with a brown mustache that looked penciled on before the gala. He was obviously getting impatient as was the crowd at this point.
"Crap, just follow my lead and either take my hand or reject it." Mich told the heiress. He then got up off the pillar and raised his voice to make sure everyone in the room heard him. "Miss Cara Mcall-Sykes, would you care to dance?" He extended his hand and made a slight bow.
"Well, we have three options. You can walk away and pretend to hate us or seem disintrested. You could accept a dance from one of us, which someone will have to issue soon or else. Finally, I can EMP the hotel and we can leave." He whispered in a hushed tone to her. However, there would be no time for an answer. The crowd had already turned all of it's attention to the three of them. He could tell they were anxious as well.
Finally, someone piped up, "Well, are one of you going to ask her to a dance or are you just going to waste our time?!" It was a portly man with a brown mustache that looked penciled on before the gala. He was obviously getting impatient as was the crowd at this point.
"Crap, just follow my lead and either take my hand or reject it." Mich told the heiress. He then got up off the pillar and raised his voice to make sure everyone in the room heard him. "Miss Cara Mcall-Sykes, would you care to dance?" He extended his hand and made a slight bow.
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Cambray turned as another man's voice cut into their conversation and he was met with another face, this one less familiar but still recognisable. He was almost certain they had fought together on a few occasions but without being completely sure he was forced to keep playing his face. He gave a smile, a wide one which stretched and twisted the scar tissue around his mouth, in greeting but couldn't quite make the smile reach his eyes. He didn’t like being interrupted.
This new man, who had introduced himself as John Ruthersford, suggested that perhaps Cara had lost her earrings and offered to help her find them.
Perhaps you should, he thought, starting out there in the hallway.
Cambray had a tendency to take small things far too seriously, so when John turned away and started fiddling with his phone after barging into a conversation he decided that they were simply not going to get along. His right hand brushed against the underside of his left arm, feeling the hunting knife sheathed there. He was much more adept at ranged combat but if he took the guy by surprise…
Stop that, you’re Cambray Charon-Craggs while you’re here so start acting like it.
His thoughts were interrupted by Cara’s gestures across the room. He picked out a pretty dark woman in a red dress standing alone off to the side. Another vaguely familiar face, but from which life? He would soon find out.
He almost missed Cara’s question as he tried to dredge up some memory of the woman in red, then decided to leave John to answer the question. He had hardly enough time to speak before some fool in the crowd, who Cambray was certain owned a small company that hadn’t even gone multinational yet, yelled out for one of them to dance with her. John asked while Cambray stepped aside.
“I’m not much of a dancer anyway” he said as John gave a bow. “But you two have fun, I’m sure you’ll dazzle us all.” He tipped a wink then nodded his head at each of them in turn. “Miss McCall-Sykes, Mr Ruthersford.” Then he took his leave, making a beeline for the woman in red and out of the spotlight. With all focus now on the pair he was free to chat to whomever he liked so he meandered his way over to Desirée and attempted to start up a conversation. These galas involved far too much talking and not nearly enough business and his good mood was beginning to slip, but he was naturally inquisitive and suspected he was walking towards another soldier. Unfortunately he had never learned how to see the subtle signs of a concealed weapon so he would simply have to talk and hope to find out the information the hard way. He needed to know everything that was going on in the room, who knew how many more potentially dangerous people could be in there with them.
“I know you,” he said as he approached. He saw a waiter passing by with a serving tray so gulped down the last of his drink and set the empty glass down as the tray passed by. “But for the life of me I can’t figure out where from.” He extended his hand for the hundredth handshake of the evening so far. “Dr. Cambray Charon-Craggs. I do apologise if we've met before, although I'm certain I would remember.”
This new man, who had introduced himself as John Ruthersford, suggested that perhaps Cara had lost her earrings and offered to help her find them.
Perhaps you should, he thought, starting out there in the hallway.
Cambray had a tendency to take small things far too seriously, so when John turned away and started fiddling with his phone after barging into a conversation he decided that they were simply not going to get along. His right hand brushed against the underside of his left arm, feeling the hunting knife sheathed there. He was much more adept at ranged combat but if he took the guy by surprise…
Stop that, you’re Cambray Charon-Craggs while you’re here so start acting like it.
His thoughts were interrupted by Cara’s gestures across the room. He picked out a pretty dark woman in a red dress standing alone off to the side. Another vaguely familiar face, but from which life? He would soon find out.
He almost missed Cara’s question as he tried to dredge up some memory of the woman in red, then decided to leave John to answer the question. He had hardly enough time to speak before some fool in the crowd, who Cambray was certain owned a small company that hadn’t even gone multinational yet, yelled out for one of them to dance with her. John asked while Cambray stepped aside.
“I’m not much of a dancer anyway” he said as John gave a bow. “But you two have fun, I’m sure you’ll dazzle us all.” He tipped a wink then nodded his head at each of them in turn. “Miss McCall-Sykes, Mr Ruthersford.” Then he took his leave, making a beeline for the woman in red and out of the spotlight. With all focus now on the pair he was free to chat to whomever he liked so he meandered his way over to Desirée and attempted to start up a conversation. These galas involved far too much talking and not nearly enough business and his good mood was beginning to slip, but he was naturally inquisitive and suspected he was walking towards another soldier. Unfortunately he had never learned how to see the subtle signs of a concealed weapon so he would simply have to talk and hope to find out the information the hard way. He needed to know everything that was going on in the room, who knew how many more potentially dangerous people could be in there with them.
“I know you,” he said as he approached. He saw a waiter passing by with a serving tray so gulped down the last of his drink and set the empty glass down as the tray passed by. “But for the life of me I can’t figure out where from.” He extended his hand for the hundredth handshake of the evening so far. “Dr. Cambray Charon-Craggs. I do apologise if we've met before, although I'm certain I would remember.”
Desirée had been watching Cara intently, so she took notice immediately when the heiress looked in her direction. She couldn't help but smile at the notion, finally confirming that Cara was indeed Jessie. Also, that dress did look amazing on her; if only she would smile, then she would be dazzling. It would be their first time meeting as Cara and Desirée instead of Jessie and Jane. It felt strange, yet she knew it was bound to happen.
Poor Jessie, she's going to be forced into an awkward situation. She thought worriedly.
It was kind of obvious to everyone who knew Jessie that she was not a dancer. Unless that was just Jessie and didn't apply to Cara. But judging by how uncomfortable she appeared in the dress, it was likely Cara was not better a dancer than Jessie. Desirée wanted to head over to her, but by now everyone's attention was on the three - and she meant everyone. She, of lower class, could not possibly know the Cara Sykes; she couldn't even go over and introduce herself due to the awkward atmosphere. A man in the crowd even scolded the men, which she found rather strange, but amusing. Did higher class people commonly have outbursts? Soon, the taller but younger man bowed and asked the heiress for a dance. Jessie was smart. She would handle the situation accordingly as Cara.
She wanted to watch Cara's reaction, but the older man seemed to be heading towards her direction. Was she imagining it? No, he really was heading over to her. She refrained from reflexively reaching towards her concealed weapons and gave a small smile. He was familiar. She was sure of it. The scars on his face were very noticeable, but most missions were during the dark of the night, she would not have recognized them anyways. They had been on missions together before, that at least she was definite about.
"I know you." He said before he gulped down a drink.
As do I, you. She thought.
Desirée took his hand and held it firmly, an oddity for a woman. "Desirée Okonkwo. Pleased to meet you, Doctor."
She paused momentarily and glanced to see if anyone was in ear shot. Well, they still all had their eyes and ears glued on to poor Cara. Was it safe to reveal their identities here? She was sure they knew each other, or she would not even consider such a thing. She felt bad for Jessie, but she was thankful that no one was paying attention to her. Although not everyone knew she was of lower class, she knew that a good number suspected it, and it would appear strange for those of the higher class to take interest in her.
"We come from the same line. I believe I know you by another name." She continued in a quieter tone.
Poor Jessie, she's going to be forced into an awkward situation. She thought worriedly.
It was kind of obvious to everyone who knew Jessie that she was not a dancer. Unless that was just Jessie and didn't apply to Cara. But judging by how uncomfortable she appeared in the dress, it was likely Cara was not better a dancer than Jessie. Desirée wanted to head over to her, but by now everyone's attention was on the three - and she meant everyone. She, of lower class, could not possibly know the Cara Sykes; she couldn't even go over and introduce herself due to the awkward atmosphere. A man in the crowd even scolded the men, which she found rather strange, but amusing. Did higher class people commonly have outbursts? Soon, the taller but younger man bowed and asked the heiress for a dance. Jessie was smart. She would handle the situation accordingly as Cara.
She wanted to watch Cara's reaction, but the older man seemed to be heading towards her direction. Was she imagining it? No, he really was heading over to her. She refrained from reflexively reaching towards her concealed weapons and gave a small smile. He was familiar. She was sure of it. The scars on his face were very noticeable, but most missions were during the dark of the night, she would not have recognized them anyways. They had been on missions together before, that at least she was definite about.
"I know you." He said before he gulped down a drink.
As do I, you. She thought.
Desirée took his hand and held it firmly, an oddity for a woman. "Desirée Okonkwo. Pleased to meet you, Doctor."
She paused momentarily and glanced to see if anyone was in ear shot. Well, they still all had their eyes and ears glued on to poor Cara. Was it safe to reveal their identities here? She was sure they knew each other, or she would not even consider such a thing. She felt bad for Jessie, but she was thankful that no one was paying attention to her. Although not everyone knew she was of lower class, she knew that a good number suspected it, and it would appear strange for those of the higher class to take interest in her.
"We come from the same line. I believe I know you by another name." She continued in a quieter tone.
It looked like her freedom was quickly dwindling much faster than she would have liked. Jessie had to force herself not to frown at the way the situation was going. All she wanted to do was get out of there as soon as she could. If she didn’t, she knew she was likely to do something she was going to regret.
As Mich started speaking, she turned her head so she could listen to him. It appeared she wasn’t getting Jane over to her any time soon. She really needed an ally in this room before she snapped. That would just be perfect. Get announced as heir to two fortunes, snap and kill someone, then get sent to the loony bin. Yep, her father would be so proud and they would blame it on her mother. Her mother wasn’t the one to blame. Her mother was a saint compared to most of the people in the room herself included.
A smile pulled at the corners of her lips as Jessie listened to the last option they had open to them. Now that one she liked very much. So long as it meant she got out of the room and out of the dress. She wanted to kill Tessa. It was tight around her chest and waist and while she could breath, she didn’t like people seeing just how small she was. To her it was only a reminder of her childhood even though she knew most of the women in the room hated her for how her body looked.
Getting ready to open her mouth and speak, she was cut off by the outburst the man had. She finally let herself frown as she turned and looked over Mich’s shoulder. She glared at the man before turning back to her friend. There was no way to answer now. It seemed everyone really was watching them. So much for disappearing into the crowd.
Jessie sighed lightly to herself wanting to rub her temples in annoyance. She really was going to have to make a fool of herself and attempt dancing. It wasn’t like she couldn’t dance. She worked in a bar. It was the standard dances like they did here that she couldn’t do and no amount of teaching had really gotten her much better. They said good partners made a difference, but she had yet to find one she could not trip over her own two feet with. And tripping over her feet wasn’t something she was used to doing. Plus, she wasn’t sure she could even more very fast or well in the heels she was being forced into.
It was then that she finally took notice of the way Heartstopper was reacting to Mich. While she knew they both fought on the same side and even with each other before, she wasn’t so certain they actually knew it. Any other given time and she would have burst out laughing. If she even attempted she was sure the crowd would lynch her. But he caught her motions to Jane and seemed to take an interest. Well at least they would both be around people they could trust whether they knew it or not.
So when Heartstopper left her alone with Mich, she didn’t really have much of a choice of what she could do at that point. The choice was taken from her. She had to dance. Turning back to Mich, she nodded her head.
“Sure. Why the hell not.” She commented just to piss the man off even more with her vulgar language that no woman of the upper class should speak in public. She wasn’t from the upper class and they were all going to learn it very quickly. She took the offered hand and started for the dance floor. As the passed the man by, she handed him her empty whiskey glass with a smile on her face. “Do be sure to make sure I have another at the end of the dance.” She piped at him loving the expression on his face. He would be able to smell what the drink was without her saying it because as the waiter had said whiskey was a man’s drink not a woman’s and she was going to do all she could to piss him off.
Returning her attention back to Mich, she looked at him. Normally they were the same height, but the heels added a few inches for her, but she wasn’t saying anything. Which also made no sense to her. Why put a woman who was only a few inches shy of six foot tall in high heels even if they were only a few inches high? Tessa was going to get it later.
“I hope you realize that I can’t dance.” She whispered into his ear. She could still the eyes of the crowd of her back and she needed John to pull her through this. She couldn’t think of him as the name he had told her, she couldn’t for any of them. She could only think of them as the name she knew them by. She just hoped she survived the dance without killing someone or losing her cool.
As Mich started speaking, she turned her head so she could listen to him. It appeared she wasn’t getting Jane over to her any time soon. She really needed an ally in this room before she snapped. That would just be perfect. Get announced as heir to two fortunes, snap and kill someone, then get sent to the loony bin. Yep, her father would be so proud and they would blame it on her mother. Her mother wasn’t the one to blame. Her mother was a saint compared to most of the people in the room herself included.
A smile pulled at the corners of her lips as Jessie listened to the last option they had open to them. Now that one she liked very much. So long as it meant she got out of the room and out of the dress. She wanted to kill Tessa. It was tight around her chest and waist and while she could breath, she didn’t like people seeing just how small she was. To her it was only a reminder of her childhood even though she knew most of the women in the room hated her for how her body looked.
Getting ready to open her mouth and speak, she was cut off by the outburst the man had. She finally let herself frown as she turned and looked over Mich’s shoulder. She glared at the man before turning back to her friend. There was no way to answer now. It seemed everyone really was watching them. So much for disappearing into the crowd.
Jessie sighed lightly to herself wanting to rub her temples in annoyance. She really was going to have to make a fool of herself and attempt dancing. It wasn’t like she couldn’t dance. She worked in a bar. It was the standard dances like they did here that she couldn’t do and no amount of teaching had really gotten her much better. They said good partners made a difference, but she had yet to find one she could not trip over her own two feet with. And tripping over her feet wasn’t something she was used to doing. Plus, she wasn’t sure she could even more very fast or well in the heels she was being forced into.
It was then that she finally took notice of the way Heartstopper was reacting to Mich. While she knew they both fought on the same side and even with each other before, she wasn’t so certain they actually knew it. Any other given time and she would have burst out laughing. If she even attempted she was sure the crowd would lynch her. But he caught her motions to Jane and seemed to take an interest. Well at least they would both be around people they could trust whether they knew it or not.
So when Heartstopper left her alone with Mich, she didn’t really have much of a choice of what she could do at that point. The choice was taken from her. She had to dance. Turning back to Mich, she nodded her head.
“Sure. Why the hell not.” She commented just to piss the man off even more with her vulgar language that no woman of the upper class should speak in public. She wasn’t from the upper class and they were all going to learn it very quickly. She took the offered hand and started for the dance floor. As the passed the man by, she handed him her empty whiskey glass with a smile on her face. “Do be sure to make sure I have another at the end of the dance.” She piped at him loving the expression on his face. He would be able to smell what the drink was without her saying it because as the waiter had said whiskey was a man’s drink not a woman’s and she was going to do all she could to piss him off.
Returning her attention back to Mich, she looked at him. Normally they were the same height, but the heels added a few inches for her, but she wasn’t saying anything. Which also made no sense to her. Why put a woman who was only a few inches shy of six foot tall in high heels even if they were only a few inches high? Tessa was going to get it later.
“I hope you realize that I can’t dance.” She whispered into his ear. She could still the eyes of the crowd of her back and she needed John to pull her through this. She couldn’t think of him as the name he had told her, she couldn’t for any of them. She could only think of them as the name she knew them by. She just hoped she survived the dance without killing someone or losing her cool.
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“Just Cambray, please. If you call me Doctor I feel like I should be diagnosing you.”
She had a firm grip when she shook his hand, lending further credibility to his theory that she was a soldier. When she said as much in a hushed voice he took a moment to silently congratulate himself on being rightly suspicious for a change.
“Well,” he replied in an equally quiet tone. “We can leave the other names until we’re back in the air doing what we do best.” Cambray had to incline his head slightly when talking; with her heels Miss Okonkwo was a couple of inches taller than himself. He blamed his Father for his shorter stature as the gene ran strongly in his side of the family.
“But for now, the night is young.” He glanced back over his shoulder to see Jessie, or Cara depending on the situation, heading for the dance floor. “And may be rather more entertaining very soon.” He moved around so he was stood beside Desirée with a view of the room.” He was impressed by Jessie’s way of handling the situation: Handing her empty glass to the man who had forced her into a situation she was clearly uncomfortable with. At the very least, she knew how to draw attention to herself, which was a skill most rich people adopted. But then again, watching new money try to fit into a room full of mature wealth was generally amusing, though this worked in a very different way as she was clearly not trying to blend in. Jessie had taken a very different tactic and he spotted several women giving judgemental looks her way. He briefly wondered what her Father might say when he saw.
“So what do you do, Miss Okonkwo?” he asked without taking his eyes off the happy couple. Another waiter passed by with a tray of champagne glasses and he took two, his idea to stop drinking already forgotten now that he had three soldiers in the room to think about instead. He held one out to Desirée and took a sip of his own.
She had a firm grip when she shook his hand, lending further credibility to his theory that she was a soldier. When she said as much in a hushed voice he took a moment to silently congratulate himself on being rightly suspicious for a change.
“Well,” he replied in an equally quiet tone. “We can leave the other names until we’re back in the air doing what we do best.” Cambray had to incline his head slightly when talking; with her heels Miss Okonkwo was a couple of inches taller than himself. He blamed his Father for his shorter stature as the gene ran strongly in his side of the family.
“But for now, the night is young.” He glanced back over his shoulder to see Jessie, or Cara depending on the situation, heading for the dance floor. “And may be rather more entertaining very soon.” He moved around so he was stood beside Desirée with a view of the room.” He was impressed by Jessie’s way of handling the situation: Handing her empty glass to the man who had forced her into a situation she was clearly uncomfortable with. At the very least, she knew how to draw attention to herself, which was a skill most rich people adopted. But then again, watching new money try to fit into a room full of mature wealth was generally amusing, though this worked in a very different way as she was clearly not trying to blend in. Jessie had taken a very different tactic and he spotted several women giving judgemental looks her way. He briefly wondered what her Father might say when he saw.
“So what do you do, Miss Okonkwo?” he asked without taking his eyes off the happy couple. Another waiter passed by with a tray of champagne glasses and he took two, his idea to stop drinking already forgotten now that he had three soldiers in the room to think about instead. He held one out to Desirée and took a sip of his own.
Desirée gave a small chuckle at his small doctor comment. She nodded, agreeing with his conclusion to leave their side lives to when they were to return to them. Which, of course, would be soon. Was there a mission that night? She would have to take a mental note to confirm with Jessie.
“Sure. Why the hell not.” Cara- Jessie, said.
The woman held in her laughter as she eyed Jessie's direction with an amused expression. Oh, Jessie. How she adored that woman. She sure knew how to make an impression on people. It was wrong of her to think that Cara would behave as a princess in front of the rich. Desirée then adjusted her standing position. Damn heels. After getting used to military boots and work clothing, heels weren't as much of a comfort as they once were. Even working as a DJ it wasn't required to wear them, so she had almost stopped wearing them completely. If something were to happen suddenly, despite the concealed weapons she had prepared, the heels would hinder her. Tch.
She took the champagne glass from Cambray with a small nod of thanks. Taking small sips, she let the bubbly champagne sit in her mouth. She didn't hate champagne, but she much preferred smoother cocktails. Tasted better and went down smoother than champagne. Well, almost everything went down smoother than champagne in her opinion.
"What I do? It's not what I call a career, and it's certainly not giving me much of a living, but I'm a DJ in a club downtown." She said as she resisted the urge to shrug. Shrugging was something she considered not appropriate around those of the higher class. She had been scolded at it once before and had learned her lesson. "Pay me a visit sometime." She said with a grin.
Rather bored with the party already, she held out her hand to Mr. Charon-Craggs. What a handful for a name. "This may be a little nontraditional, but may I have this dance?" She asked with a smile. Maybe I could get closer to Jessie and have a small chat with the young heiress, she thought to herself. It would prove troublesome thanks to the crowd, but she would be able to manage. There were different ways to communicate other than words.
“Sure. Why the hell not.” Cara- Jessie, said.
The woman held in her laughter as she eyed Jessie's direction with an amused expression. Oh, Jessie. How she adored that woman. She sure knew how to make an impression on people. It was wrong of her to think that Cara would behave as a princess in front of the rich. Desirée then adjusted her standing position. Damn heels. After getting used to military boots and work clothing, heels weren't as much of a comfort as they once were. Even working as a DJ it wasn't required to wear them, so she had almost stopped wearing them completely. If something were to happen suddenly, despite the concealed weapons she had prepared, the heels would hinder her. Tch.
She took the champagne glass from Cambray with a small nod of thanks. Taking small sips, she let the bubbly champagne sit in her mouth. She didn't hate champagne, but she much preferred smoother cocktails. Tasted better and went down smoother than champagne. Well, almost everything went down smoother than champagne in her opinion.
"What I do? It's not what I call a career, and it's certainly not giving me much of a living, but I'm a DJ in a club downtown." She said as she resisted the urge to shrug. Shrugging was something she considered not appropriate around those of the higher class. She had been scolded at it once before and had learned her lesson. "Pay me a visit sometime." She said with a grin.
Rather bored with the party already, she held out her hand to Mr. Charon-Craggs. What a handful for a name. "This may be a little nontraditional, but may I have this dance?" She asked with a smile. Maybe I could get closer to Jessie and have a small chat with the young heiress, she thought to herself. It would prove troublesome thanks to the crowd, but she would be able to manage. There were different ways to communicate other than words.
, "I hope you realize that I can’t dance.” the young hieress whispered into Mich's ear. He had figured as such from the start, she had a less than upper class job, he wished he had one some days, so he had already developed counter measures.
"A good partner makes all the difference, do not worry. Just let me lead and you will come off as competent. Believe me, most people are not expecting much but paying attention all the same." He hoped the prospect did not scare his friend and future business partner too much, the first dance is always the most nerve-wracking. He led Cara onto the dance floor and waited for the song to play, a standard waltz, he recognized and it was thankfully shorter than most. He put his hand on Cara's hips and began to dance. If cara began to trip, he untangled her feet and nudged her on the track. However, while dancing, something happened. Something seemed to click in his mind, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. His moves were autonomous, but while he thought, he began to assist less and less, an accidental step on his foot bought him out of contemplation. "Sorry." He whispered.
Finally, the dance ended and the pair walked off the floor, only to have another pair walk on. They seemed vaguely familiar but he couldn't quite put his finger on it, and then, he realized what clicked. Charon-Craggs was heartstopper, a stunning revelation, to him atleast. "Jessie," he whispered, "I think the doctor we met was heartstopper."
"A good partner makes all the difference, do not worry. Just let me lead and you will come off as competent. Believe me, most people are not expecting much but paying attention all the same." He hoped the prospect did not scare his friend and future business partner too much, the first dance is always the most nerve-wracking. He led Cara onto the dance floor and waited for the song to play, a standard waltz, he recognized and it was thankfully shorter than most. He put his hand on Cara's hips and began to dance. If cara began to trip, he untangled her feet and nudged her on the track. However, while dancing, something happened. Something seemed to click in his mind, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. His moves were autonomous, but while he thought, he began to assist less and less, an accidental step on his foot bought him out of contemplation. "Sorry." He whispered.
Finally, the dance ended and the pair walked off the floor, only to have another pair walk on. They seemed vaguely familiar but he couldn't quite put his finger on it, and then, he realized what clicked. Charon-Craggs was heartstopper, a stunning revelation, to him atleast. "Jessie," he whispered, "I think the doctor we met was heartstopper."
So Mich knew about good partners. Well of course he did. He was raised in the society where having the right partner mattered all of the time. Having her as one probably helped his business or some much nonsense that she was supposed to care about, but didn’t.
Jessie wasn’t the kind of person who liked anyone leading her in anything, but she had to accept that she wouldn’t be able to pull off the dance without help. So she was going to have to suck it up and allow Mich to be the leader. But the ways of the upper class made no sense to her whatsoever. Why watch something if one didn’t want to do it? She had been raised to do the things she wanted and not be forced into doing things she didn’t.
Having someone touch her seemed odd, but she forced her body to relax as the music begun and they started dancing. She had to that he was rather good at his job, but she was the hopeless one. It was the soldiers training that allowed her to pick up on the fact that her partner was spacing out. She didn’t know what he was thinking about, but she knew it had to be taking up most of his thought processes because she was making more mistakes than she had been at the beginning of the dance.
Jessie laughed lightly at the muttered sorry making sure to stay in Cara’s voice. Oh how she hated changing who she was. Being in soldiers’ grab and on the battle field was the only thing that made her feel like herself. It made going back to either work or now dealing with these political social rules so much easier to bear.
As the pair walked off the dance floor, she picked herself up another glass of whiskey and put it to her lips as she watched Jane and Heartstopper head towards the dance floor. She sighed lightly to herself as she watched them. They would all be together eventually without the silly rules in the way.
Glancing over at where Mich stood, she smiled into the glass at her lips. She turned her head slightly so she was looking over at the man. Her voice dropped back into its normal pitch since there was no chance of being over heard by anyone. “Yes, he is. I’ve known that since he introduced himself. The lady he is dancing with is Jane if you must know that one too.” It was good having her group back together, but she couldn’t shake the feelings that something was getting ready to happen and she wasn’t going to like the outcome.
Jessie wasn’t the kind of person who liked anyone leading her in anything, but she had to accept that she wouldn’t be able to pull off the dance without help. So she was going to have to suck it up and allow Mich to be the leader. But the ways of the upper class made no sense to her whatsoever. Why watch something if one didn’t want to do it? She had been raised to do the things she wanted and not be forced into doing things she didn’t.
Having someone touch her seemed odd, but she forced her body to relax as the music begun and they started dancing. She had to that he was rather good at his job, but she was the hopeless one. It was the soldiers training that allowed her to pick up on the fact that her partner was spacing out. She didn’t know what he was thinking about, but she knew it had to be taking up most of his thought processes because she was making more mistakes than she had been at the beginning of the dance.
Jessie laughed lightly at the muttered sorry making sure to stay in Cara’s voice. Oh how she hated changing who she was. Being in soldiers’ grab and on the battle field was the only thing that made her feel like herself. It made going back to either work or now dealing with these political social rules so much easier to bear.
As the pair walked off the dance floor, she picked herself up another glass of whiskey and put it to her lips as she watched Jane and Heartstopper head towards the dance floor. She sighed lightly to herself as she watched them. They would all be together eventually without the silly rules in the way.
Glancing over at where Mich stood, she smiled into the glass at her lips. She turned her head slightly so she was looking over at the man. Her voice dropped back into its normal pitch since there was no chance of being over heard by anyone. “Yes, he is. I’ve known that since he introduced himself. The lady he is dancing with is Jane if you must know that one too.” It was good having her group back together, but she couldn’t shake the feelings that something was getting ready to happen and she wasn’t going to like the outcome.
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Cambray was surprised, though not unpleasantly. He had been thrown by the attire, especially the dress, despite being one of the few in the room who knew the true value of not judging a book by its cover. He allowed himself a slight smile at the invitation, being a person who liked to think of himself as musically broad-minded, even if he didn’t perhaps make enough time in his life to devote to music to be called a true fan of any particular type.
“Perhaps I will. Lord knows it must be more fun than this place.” The evening had started well enough but Cambray found these events rapidly became an endless stream of similar encounters blurred together. Maybe he just had a short attention span, or maybe he had just taken too easily to a life of risk. Whatever the reason, and it seemed likely to be more the latter, in his mind the only thing keeping the night together was the presence of other soldiers in the room, a fact which continued to amuse and intrigue him.
Then Desirée offered her hand and a dance, taking him a little by surprise. From what he could tell soldiers did not make particularly good dancers, nor willing ones in the case of Cara. Her own dancing partner seemed to be losing his footing and Cambray himself was far too stiff in the hips to ever move gracefully. Nevertheless he took her hand and looked her in the eye, a task which required him to look up slightly, being perfectly polite and dignified.
“I would be honoured,” he said before turning in as delicate a manner as he could. His footfalls were soft and his movements precise but it would be clear to anyone watching with trained eyes that he was less of a dancer and more of a soldier. He tried to relax his arms and hands but they were far too used to gripping a rifle than cradling a woman. He tried to put some flexibility into his legs but they were too used to running and crouching. He tried desperately to sway to the music but his torso and hips were a solid board adapted to standing to attention.
“You may have guessed,” he whispered as the pair of them stepped in time across the dancefloor, “that dancing is not my strongest attribute.” Each step was perfectly executed as a result of many classes in his younger years and each manoeuvre could not be faulted for technicality, yet there was so little life in his dancing that Desirée may as well have offered to dance with a robot. He had forgotten just how little he cared for this aspect of his false life. Not even alcohol could put a dent in his unlimber form and he could feel the eyes of some of the crowd on him, judging him. They would avert their gaze if they knew I had a sidearm tucked inside my jacket he thought bitterly.
“Have you spoken to Cara’s friend over there?” he asked, flickering his eyes to Mich. He did not like the way the man had looked over at him as he made his way through the crowd with his dancing companion. “He strikes me as a little odd.” Whatever certainties he may have had about the man were slowly dissolving, a fact which made him a little uneasy. This in turn led to him becoming more physically tense and more emotionally anxious. He felt a flash of paranoia and tried to ignore it but that single doubt in his mind would not settle. Thankfully he was excellent at hiding his feelings and so the only hint that something was wrong was the further stiffening throughout his body halfway through the dance.
“Perhaps I will. Lord knows it must be more fun than this place.” The evening had started well enough but Cambray found these events rapidly became an endless stream of similar encounters blurred together. Maybe he just had a short attention span, or maybe he had just taken too easily to a life of risk. Whatever the reason, and it seemed likely to be more the latter, in his mind the only thing keeping the night together was the presence of other soldiers in the room, a fact which continued to amuse and intrigue him.
Then Desirée offered her hand and a dance, taking him a little by surprise. From what he could tell soldiers did not make particularly good dancers, nor willing ones in the case of Cara. Her own dancing partner seemed to be losing his footing and Cambray himself was far too stiff in the hips to ever move gracefully. Nevertheless he took her hand and looked her in the eye, a task which required him to look up slightly, being perfectly polite and dignified.
“I would be honoured,” he said before turning in as delicate a manner as he could. His footfalls were soft and his movements precise but it would be clear to anyone watching with trained eyes that he was less of a dancer and more of a soldier. He tried to relax his arms and hands but they were far too used to gripping a rifle than cradling a woman. He tried to put some flexibility into his legs but they were too used to running and crouching. He tried desperately to sway to the music but his torso and hips were a solid board adapted to standing to attention.
“You may have guessed,” he whispered as the pair of them stepped in time across the dancefloor, “that dancing is not my strongest attribute.” Each step was perfectly executed as a result of many classes in his younger years and each manoeuvre could not be faulted for technicality, yet there was so little life in his dancing that Desirée may as well have offered to dance with a robot. He had forgotten just how little he cared for this aspect of his false life. Not even alcohol could put a dent in his unlimber form and he could feel the eyes of some of the crowd on him, judging him. They would avert their gaze if they knew I had a sidearm tucked inside my jacket he thought bitterly.
“Have you spoken to Cara’s friend over there?” he asked, flickering his eyes to Mich. He did not like the way the man had looked over at him as he made his way through the crowd with his dancing companion. “He strikes me as a little odd.” Whatever certainties he may have had about the man were slowly dissolving, a fact which made him a little uneasy. This in turn led to him becoming more physically tense and more emotionally anxious. He felt a flash of paranoia and tried to ignore it but that single doubt in his mind would not settle. Thankfully he was excellent at hiding his feelings and so the only hint that something was wrong was the further stiffening throughout his body halfway through the dance.
Her eyes glinted in a playful manner. A hell of a lot more fun than this royal get-together. She kept the unspoken words to herself. Sure, she enjoyed coming to fancy parties for the chance to experience it. She could pretend to be some rich and highly privileged person while adorning dresses that she would never normally have the chance to wear. Unfortunately she knew how dull the events could become. Her attendance to such events were rare anyhow, so she liked to make the best of it. Seeing Jessie get all dolled up was also a sight that she knew she would never see out on the field.
Desirée stiffled a small chuckle at the man's less than graceful dancing. He didn't have to accept her invitation if he was so uncomfortable with it. It made her wonder if earlier he was keen on asking Cara to dance. Keeping in mind Jessie's distaste for such things, the combination would have been a very awkward sight. Well, it should have been expected. They were soldiers, not dancers. It was obvious to see while watching Cambray's stiff movements. Interestingly enough he did know the dance steps very well and they were executed properly. If only he could relax a bit more. She herself was a lucky exception to non-dancing soldiers. Dancing was unavoidable at a club. Club dancing and ballroom dancing were of completely different worlds, but she was always one who appreciated occasional slow and graceful dances.
"You dance very adequately, Doc- Ah, Cambray." She said, uncomfortable with utilizing his given name. "Perhaps one session at a club will do you good." She said with a smile.
Her eyes darted over to Cara's position when Cambray made mention of them. "Him? Hmm..." She started to think. The woman hadn't given the other man much thought at all. Now that she was taking a look at him she was curious. Odd? The only things that stood out to her was his height and his awkward dance slip-up while he was paired with Cara. Perhaps for this high-class event, he was rather odd. She was confident that no one in the room was of lower class than her, but she took pride in knowing that she had presented herself better than he did during the course of the night. She hadn't called unnecessary attention to herself, which he did by confronting the heiress and practically forcing Jessie to dance, and she hadn't slipped up while dancing, unlike him who had done so while all eyes were on him and his dance partner. In a way, he did seem sort of odd.
"I guess I understand where you're coming from. There's something a tad familiar about him." She whispered as they danced through the crowd. What was the likelihood that he was another soldier? Somehow she didn't have a hard time believing so. It would explain the less than usual refined act of someone of the higher class. Taking notice of Cambray's stiffer movements she wondered if he had the same thought. On the other hand he might have just been tired of dancing. Seeing him in a club would be a sight indeed.
Deciding it was about time to talk to Cara, she directed her partner over to Jessie's direction. By the time the song finished, she was close enough to Cara to break off and converse with her. Moving a few steps back from her dance companion she performed a small curtsy. "Thank you for the dance." She said with a smile. Whether or not the doctor wanted to speak to Cara was up to him but she went ahead and walked up to Jessie.
"Miss Sykes, pleasure to finally be able to speak to you." She greeted with a playful glint. She then gave a polite nod to the man beside her, the one she and Cambray had labelled as 'odd'.
Desirée stiffled a small chuckle at the man's less than graceful dancing. He didn't have to accept her invitation if he was so uncomfortable with it. It made her wonder if earlier he was keen on asking Cara to dance. Keeping in mind Jessie's distaste for such things, the combination would have been a very awkward sight. Well, it should have been expected. They were soldiers, not dancers. It was obvious to see while watching Cambray's stiff movements. Interestingly enough he did know the dance steps very well and they were executed properly. If only he could relax a bit more. She herself was a lucky exception to non-dancing soldiers. Dancing was unavoidable at a club. Club dancing and ballroom dancing were of completely different worlds, but she was always one who appreciated occasional slow and graceful dances.
"You dance very adequately, Doc- Ah, Cambray." She said, uncomfortable with utilizing his given name. "Perhaps one session at a club will do you good." She said with a smile.
Her eyes darted over to Cara's position when Cambray made mention of them. "Him? Hmm..." She started to think. The woman hadn't given the other man much thought at all. Now that she was taking a look at him she was curious. Odd? The only things that stood out to her was his height and his awkward dance slip-up while he was paired with Cara. Perhaps for this high-class event, he was rather odd. She was confident that no one in the room was of lower class than her, but she took pride in knowing that she had presented herself better than he did during the course of the night. She hadn't called unnecessary attention to herself, which he did by confronting the heiress and practically forcing Jessie to dance, and she hadn't slipped up while dancing, unlike him who had done so while all eyes were on him and his dance partner. In a way, he did seem sort of odd.
"I guess I understand where you're coming from. There's something a tad familiar about him." She whispered as they danced through the crowd. What was the likelihood that he was another soldier? Somehow she didn't have a hard time believing so. It would explain the less than usual refined act of someone of the higher class. Taking notice of Cambray's stiffer movements she wondered if he had the same thought. On the other hand he might have just been tired of dancing. Seeing him in a club would be a sight indeed.
Deciding it was about time to talk to Cara, she directed her partner over to Jessie's direction. By the time the song finished, she was close enough to Cara to break off and converse with her. Moving a few steps back from her dance companion she performed a small curtsy. "Thank you for the dance." She said with a smile. Whether or not the doctor wanted to speak to Cara was up to him but she went ahead and walked up to Jessie.
"Miss Sykes, pleasure to finally be able to speak to you." She greeted with a playful glint. She then gave a polite nod to the man beside her, the one she and Cambray had labelled as 'odd'.
If not for Jane being there Jessie was sure she wouldn’t be able to survive the whole night. There was just something about seeing her friend in a different light that made her understand and appreciate the woman so much more. In that same moment as she was thinking about her friendship with the other soldier asides of fighting, as Jane was really the only other one that she hung around in her normal life, the woman in question approached bring Heartstopper with her.
Glancing over at the pair she smiled at them. Most of the smile was real, but for the most part it was simply playing her role. Oh, how much she wanted to go into the normal conversations they had. So much freer and easy going compared to what they were standing in. It was, however, Jane’s words that put a wider smile on her face.
“Oh, Jane just stop. Everyone knows you’re here because of me. Stop acting so formal.” The grin only got wider as she set her drink down and hugged her friend. She didn’t care if it wasn’t allowed or not. She sure as hell wouldn’t have done it on the battle field, but they weren’t there. And again Jane was the only soldier she really knew on the outside. The men in the circle even though they knew each other, they weren’t likely to need her services of the hotel or take up the offer very often. She had plans for Jane living with her and that wasn’t likely to change.
“What do you guys say that after I get announced as if everyone doesn’t already know, we blow this place?” Jessie had reverted back to her normal Cara voice just in case she was over heard. Her solider voice wasn’t safe to say in every long unless she was in her hotel suite. She knew from what Mr. Sykes had told her it was getting close to him announcing her formally as his heir. But she still couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. There was a growing knot in the bottom of her stomach that this formal announcement was going to cause problems, but how she didn’t know. One thing she had learned was to always listen to her gut. It had saved her life once and she had the scar to prove it.
“Anyone up for it?” She asked again trying to throw something light into the mix so that she wasn’t portraying what was going on in her mind. She wondered if it was a possible mission coming up, but she hadn’t felt her device go off yet, so she knew the feeling she was having wasn’t from that. Jessie wanted to know what it was and she needed to find out fast. Information that a soldier didn’t have was information that could have saved their lives.
Glancing over at the pair she smiled at them. Most of the smile was real, but for the most part it was simply playing her role. Oh, how much she wanted to go into the normal conversations they had. So much freer and easy going compared to what they were standing in. It was, however, Jane’s words that put a wider smile on her face.
“Oh, Jane just stop. Everyone knows you’re here because of me. Stop acting so formal.” The grin only got wider as she set her drink down and hugged her friend. She didn’t care if it wasn’t allowed or not. She sure as hell wouldn’t have done it on the battle field, but they weren’t there. And again Jane was the only soldier she really knew on the outside. The men in the circle even though they knew each other, they weren’t likely to need her services of the hotel or take up the offer very often. She had plans for Jane living with her and that wasn’t likely to change.
“What do you guys say that after I get announced as if everyone doesn’t already know, we blow this place?” Jessie had reverted back to her normal Cara voice just in case she was over heard. Her solider voice wasn’t safe to say in every long unless she was in her hotel suite. She knew from what Mr. Sykes had told her it was getting close to him announcing her formally as his heir. But she still couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. There was a growing knot in the bottom of her stomach that this formal announcement was going to cause problems, but how she didn’t know. One thing she had learned was to always listen to her gut. It had saved her life once and she had the scar to prove it.
“Anyone up for it?” She asked again trying to throw something light into the mix so that she wasn’t portraying what was going on in her mind. She wondered if it was a possible mission coming up, but she hadn’t felt her device go off yet, so she knew the feeling she was having wasn’t from that. Jessie wanted to know what it was and she needed to find out fast. Information that a soldier didn’t have was information that could have saved their lives.
Jane chuckled at Jessie's comment against her 'formality'. The hug had taken Jane off guard, but she soon recovered with a smile, returning the hug with a squeeze. First and foremost, things like that which were not Jessie-like were what made Jane feel the best. It was the little bits of proof she needed to know that Jessie and her were really more than just comrades, that they were actually what they could consider each other very good friends. On the minor side, she felt awesome knowing that there were people in the room who were watching the brief exchange of affection. Perhaps now she was just promoted to higher status in their eyes.
"I'm all for it." She replied. Hearing Cara's voice speak Jessie's words were always a small joy. By now it had clicked to Jane that because Jessie was addressing all four of them and not just her, that the other two men were indeed soldiers. She snapped her fingers mentally in realization. Cambray must be Heartstopper, and the 'odd' one must be John. Well, that had taken her long enough to figure out. She was comfortable knowing she was surrounded by her fellow comrades.
"These heels are killing me and I need to get out of them ASAP." She groaned, slightly lifting her dress and pointing to her toes. She was also sure that Jessie must be dying to get out of her own heels, not the mention the whole get up that came with it. Seeing that Jessie was still much taller than her it could only mean that she had been forced to don a pair of heels. Honestly she knew that wearing heels were essential to wearing a dress, but part of her couldn't imagine Jessie agreeing to wearing them. Desirée didn't normally wear heels either, so she could imagine Jessie's contempt for the redundant pain-inducing footwear. Jane had her chance to see Jessie as a dolled up Cara and she was satisfied. She wasn't going to forget about Jessie as she looked now for as long as she lived.
Although she knew that she and Jessie were eager to ditch the party, she wasn't completely sure about the two men. In the beginning they seemed like the type who tried to impress the higher class. It wouldn't surprise her if they wanted to stay and make the best of the gala. Getting to know the rich high ups and receiving connections was a valuable asset, especially if the two had a business to attend to.
"I'm all for it." She replied. Hearing Cara's voice speak Jessie's words were always a small joy. By now it had clicked to Jane that because Jessie was addressing all four of them and not just her, that the other two men were indeed soldiers. She snapped her fingers mentally in realization. Cambray must be Heartstopper, and the 'odd' one must be John. Well, that had taken her long enough to figure out. She was comfortable knowing she was surrounded by her fellow comrades.
"These heels are killing me and I need to get out of them ASAP." She groaned, slightly lifting her dress and pointing to her toes. She was also sure that Jessie must be dying to get out of her own heels, not the mention the whole get up that came with it. Seeing that Jessie was still much taller than her it could only mean that she had been forced to don a pair of heels. Honestly she knew that wearing heels were essential to wearing a dress, but part of her couldn't imagine Jessie agreeing to wearing them. Desirée didn't normally wear heels either, so she could imagine Jessie's contempt for the redundant pain-inducing footwear. Jane had her chance to see Jessie as a dolled up Cara and she was satisfied. She wasn't going to forget about Jessie as she looked now for as long as she lived.
Although she knew that she and Jessie were eager to ditch the party, she wasn't completely sure about the two men. In the beginning they seemed like the type who tried to impress the higher class. It wouldn't surprise her if they wanted to stay and make the best of the gala. Getting to know the rich high ups and receiving connections was a valuable asset, especially if the two had a business to attend to.
The situation was almost laughable. If she hadn’t had to upkeep the Cara persona Jessie was sure that she would have been hugging her sides from laughing so hard. She sure didn’t want to be at the gala, but she also knew that if she didn’t pretend to fit in then things could get bad every quickly. This could possibly be her only chance to merge into the upper class and get promoted. She was sick of being stuck in the lower jobs just because she wasn’t rich.
Unlike the two men in the group, the two women knew what it was like to work for a living. But even worse was that she knew what it was like to work years in the war and never get a promotion to the next level. She knew that the two men hadn’t worked very long as messengers before they caught up with her at cargo. While she had been on one mission above her grade, she hadn’t seen another one since.
Getting paired up with Heartstopper and John could be her winning ticket with getting pronounced heir of two multi million dollar industries she was sure she was finally going to see some more missions with higher pay. She didn’t believe in money she didn’t earn. She almost had enough saved back after rent, bills, food, and other things she needed to live to dig up her mother and give her a proper burial.
Jessie started laughing at her friend’s comment about the heels. She lifted her own and looked down at her feet with a shake of her head. “You’d think that someone as tall as me could get away without wearing these things.” She didn’t add in the other words she was thinking to describe the high heels, but she was sure that the rest of them could imagine what those things were.
“I’m just ready to be out of the whole get up.” She couldn’t move, sometimes she felt like she couldn’t breath properly either. She wanted out of the dress, the heels and she wanted her hair back in its normal holdings. With a shake of her head, she watched her father from the corner of her eye take to the stage that the band was on. She held back the curse that was on her tongue. This was it. What was she supposed to do? Just stand here? Go up on stage?
She looked to the two men since they were both from the upper class. They would know what to do right? She glanced between the two of them trying not to look like a frightened doe as she searched for answers. She was used to being the leader, the one with the answers. Now she had nothing. Turning she glanced back over to where Mr. Sykes was standing with a microphone in his hand.
“Ladies and Gentlemen we have a very special occasion tonight. The sole we reason are gathered here tonight is so that I can appoint the heir to both of my fortunes. I know rumors have been milling around about who would fill the position. However I have decided that I want the heir to be of blood so that the companies stay within the family. That is why I have appointed my daughter, Cara, to be my heir.” There was applause around the room. Some of it was genuine and the rest the young woman knew to be faked.
Everyone seemed to be staring at her and she hated it. She hated being exposed and out in the open. It got a soldier killed in combat. That was when she felt something vibrate against her leg. She kept her face neutral, but all she wanted to do was bend down and find out what it was. She knew it had to be a mission and meant she was getting the hell out of the dress and back into clothes that she felt like home in. But how was she supposed to leave now after having been announced? What did the expect her to do? Did the others get the message too or just her? She glanced between the others to see if they got something or if she was on her own.
Unlike the two men in the group, the two women knew what it was like to work for a living. But even worse was that she knew what it was like to work years in the war and never get a promotion to the next level. She knew that the two men hadn’t worked very long as messengers before they caught up with her at cargo. While she had been on one mission above her grade, she hadn’t seen another one since.
Getting paired up with Heartstopper and John could be her winning ticket with getting pronounced heir of two multi million dollar industries she was sure she was finally going to see some more missions with higher pay. She didn’t believe in money she didn’t earn. She almost had enough saved back after rent, bills, food, and other things she needed to live to dig up her mother and give her a proper burial.
Jessie started laughing at her friend’s comment about the heels. She lifted her own and looked down at her feet with a shake of her head. “You’d think that someone as tall as me could get away without wearing these things.” She didn’t add in the other words she was thinking to describe the high heels, but she was sure that the rest of them could imagine what those things were.
“I’m just ready to be out of the whole get up.” She couldn’t move, sometimes she felt like she couldn’t breath properly either. She wanted out of the dress, the heels and she wanted her hair back in its normal holdings. With a shake of her head, she watched her father from the corner of her eye take to the stage that the band was on. She held back the curse that was on her tongue. This was it. What was she supposed to do? Just stand here? Go up on stage?
She looked to the two men since they were both from the upper class. They would know what to do right? She glanced between the two of them trying not to look like a frightened doe as she searched for answers. She was used to being the leader, the one with the answers. Now she had nothing. Turning she glanced back over to where Mr. Sykes was standing with a microphone in his hand.
“Ladies and Gentlemen we have a very special occasion tonight. The sole we reason are gathered here tonight is so that I can appoint the heir to both of my fortunes. I know rumors have been milling around about who would fill the position. However I have decided that I want the heir to be of blood so that the companies stay within the family. That is why I have appointed my daughter, Cara, to be my heir.” There was applause around the room. Some of it was genuine and the rest the young woman knew to be faked.
Everyone seemed to be staring at her and she hated it. She hated being exposed and out in the open. It got a soldier killed in combat. That was when she felt something vibrate against her leg. She kept her face neutral, but all she wanted to do was bend down and find out what it was. She knew it had to be a mission and meant she was getting the hell out of the dress and back into clothes that she felt like home in. But how was she supposed to leave now after having been announced? What did the expect her to do? Did the others get the message too or just her? She glanced between the others to see if they got something or if she was on her own.
Setting
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It was strange to see Jessie acting with such affection towards another person; as a soldier it was not something she had previously expressed around him. But he supposed he had only ever known the professional side of her, only ever getting the occasional glimpse of the human being who existed underneath the training. He supposed he was more or less the same. He supposed they all were, all the good soldiers at least. In his experience he found that those who tried too hard to make friends or be a person more than a soldier were the ones most likely to take a bullet in the face.
But here, the two women appeared to be nothing more than close companions, enjoying each others company, laughing and joking and hugging. Cambray couldn't remember the last time he had been that close to someone, and for that he was thankful. He didn't believe in having anyone in a position where they might have leverage over him. He had friends, of course, and regular comrades on missions, but he did not agree with being held back by personal relationships.
But on the subject of leaving the party Cambray couldn't have agreed more. He had done his rounds, got some numbers, laid the foundations for future negotiations and dealt with some serious ass-kissing. His part in the evening was now over. Soon enough the businesspeople would start gathering in smaller groups to discuss the evening and show off their company's growth or compete over some trivial matter. It was beyond time for him to get going.
"You can count me in" he said, relieved at the prospect of getting out of there. His preferred kind of party was to be found a long way away from here and usually ended with several people dead.
Cambray waited and watched as heads began to turn. Mr Sykes was taking the stage. And Cara looked nervous. She looked over at himself and the other man not so far from him. He's never seen the woman look less like a soldier. In the face of a storm of bullets and overwhelming odds she was cool as a winter breeze. But here, she closer resembled a rabbit in the headlights than a soldier. He looked back at her and mouthed the word 'smile' then fixed one of his own to his face as Mr Sykes started to speak. Once he had finished, Cambray joined in with the applause. He was about to catch her eye again and try to tell her to get on the stage and make a speech, which would be expected of her, but a series of beeps stopped him dead in his tracks. To anyone around it would sound like a pager, because that's precisely what it was. But to Cambray it was the sound of a mission. It sounded almost identical to the pager he kept for messages from the hospital but the difference was clear to him.
His face dropped into a cold, hard mask and he pulled the pager from his pocket to confirm. It was indeed a mission.
"Excuse me, Doctor coming through, medical emergency." He pushed his way through the crowd and headed at a quick walk for the doors, not once looking back. He headed along the hallway and caught the elevator, heading straight up towards his room.
It really was remarkable how much a friend in the records department and a few thousand a month could get a person. After a very brief phonecall and some creative computer work it would appear that Dr Charon-Craggs had been paged to come to the hospital to see a patient, had a video conference, caught a private plane home, arrived, assessed the situation, signed all relevant documents and left again. It was the perfect cover for his military work.
The elevator door opened with a 'ping' and he strode down the corridor, taking the key out of his pocket as he walked. He unlocked the door and slid inside, already starting to remove his jacket. He stripped down and threw his clothes onto the chair in the corner of the room, then dressed in a casual shirt and jeans from the chest of drawers. His weapon still lay disassembled on the bed so he dropped to his knees, pulled out a suitcase from beneath the bed and flicked it open to reveal a padded interior with spaces for each individual component of his weapon. In record time he stashed the pieces away, folded the sheet they were laid on, placed that over the top and clasped the case shut. It was all routine.
He washed his hands, slipped on his boots, double checked his overnight bag, which contained the clothing for his mission, and placed that and the briefcase by the door. He then picked up the phone and dialled room service. As soon as he heard the click at the other end he spoke, not waiting to be asked how he could be helped.
"This is suite 12, Dr. Cambray Charon-Craggs, I have a tuxedo in my room, I need it dry cleaned and pressed and hung in my wardrobe by the morning. And I need my car and driver out front in three minutes." Then he hung up, grabbed his bags and headed back for the elevator.
But here, the two women appeared to be nothing more than close companions, enjoying each others company, laughing and joking and hugging. Cambray couldn't remember the last time he had been that close to someone, and for that he was thankful. He didn't believe in having anyone in a position where they might have leverage over him. He had friends, of course, and regular comrades on missions, but he did not agree with being held back by personal relationships.
But on the subject of leaving the party Cambray couldn't have agreed more. He had done his rounds, got some numbers, laid the foundations for future negotiations and dealt with some serious ass-kissing. His part in the evening was now over. Soon enough the businesspeople would start gathering in smaller groups to discuss the evening and show off their company's growth or compete over some trivial matter. It was beyond time for him to get going.
"You can count me in" he said, relieved at the prospect of getting out of there. His preferred kind of party was to be found a long way away from here and usually ended with several people dead.
Cambray waited and watched as heads began to turn. Mr Sykes was taking the stage. And Cara looked nervous. She looked over at himself and the other man not so far from him. He's never seen the woman look less like a soldier. In the face of a storm of bullets and overwhelming odds she was cool as a winter breeze. But here, she closer resembled a rabbit in the headlights than a soldier. He looked back at her and mouthed the word 'smile' then fixed one of his own to his face as Mr Sykes started to speak. Once he had finished, Cambray joined in with the applause. He was about to catch her eye again and try to tell her to get on the stage and make a speech, which would be expected of her, but a series of beeps stopped him dead in his tracks. To anyone around it would sound like a pager, because that's precisely what it was. But to Cambray it was the sound of a mission. It sounded almost identical to the pager he kept for messages from the hospital but the difference was clear to him.
His face dropped into a cold, hard mask and he pulled the pager from his pocket to confirm. It was indeed a mission.
"Excuse me, Doctor coming through, medical emergency." He pushed his way through the crowd and headed at a quick walk for the doors, not once looking back. He headed along the hallway and caught the elevator, heading straight up towards his room.
It really was remarkable how much a friend in the records department and a few thousand a month could get a person. After a very brief phonecall and some creative computer work it would appear that Dr Charon-Craggs had been paged to come to the hospital to see a patient, had a video conference, caught a private plane home, arrived, assessed the situation, signed all relevant documents and left again. It was the perfect cover for his military work.
The elevator door opened with a 'ping' and he strode down the corridor, taking the key out of his pocket as he walked. He unlocked the door and slid inside, already starting to remove his jacket. He stripped down and threw his clothes onto the chair in the corner of the room, then dressed in a casual shirt and jeans from the chest of drawers. His weapon still lay disassembled on the bed so he dropped to his knees, pulled out a suitcase from beneath the bed and flicked it open to reveal a padded interior with spaces for each individual component of his weapon. In record time he stashed the pieces away, folded the sheet they were laid on, placed that over the top and clasped the case shut. It was all routine.
He washed his hands, slipped on his boots, double checked his overnight bag, which contained the clothing for his mission, and placed that and the briefcase by the door. He then picked up the phone and dialled room service. As soon as he heard the click at the other end he spoke, not waiting to be asked how he could be helped.
"This is suite 12, Dr. Cambray Charon-Craggs, I have a tuxedo in my room, I need it dry cleaned and pressed and hung in my wardrobe by the morning. And I need my car and driver out front in three minutes." Then he hung up, grabbed his bags and headed back for the elevator.
So she wasn’t the only one who had gotten the message on a mission. She watched as Heartstopper made his way through the crowd. He was leaving which meant he would be the first to the scene if they were on the same mission and would be deemed the leader of the operation by default. Normally she was the first one there. Cursing under her breath she knew she had to get out of there.
Glancing back towards the stage, her father was motioning for her to join him. Just my luck. She thought to herself. She had to do this and then get out of the room back to her own suite to change. Taking the stage she was careful not to make eye contact with anyone for too long.
“Uh… I did not know I had to make a speech.” She said lightly trying to gain some sympathy on why she wouldn’t be standing there for much longer. “What I can say is that it is an honor and thank you for coming tonight.” It was almost all she could think of from the top of her head. She looked over at her father before turning and leaving the stage.
On the way to the door she sneaked behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of the whiskey before she bolted out the door as quickly as she could without drawing too much attention to herself. She couldn’t even stop and see if Jane had also gotten the message or not. She really hoped that she had.
The whiskey was only a cover up. She could say later her nerves got to her and she went back to drown them out like most of the upper class. But for now she had to get out of the hotel. Making it back to the suite, she saw Tessa standing there waiting on her. Eyes narrowing she glared at the woman.
“Outfit is laid out and waiting. I received news you had a mission. Figured you would need help.” Jessie only nodded her head as she took a swig of the liquor as the other woman got her out of the dress in record time and then took her hair down.
She didn’t need any help getting herself dressed. She was used to changing into her soldier clothes in less time than it took most people in get dressed into just jeans and a t-shirt. She pulled her hair into a low ponytail as she checked her message. It gave the coordinates and nothing more. Nodding her head she grabbed her weapons from their hidden compartments after throwing Tessa out of the room then she grabbed her keys.
She had her extras to the uniform stashed under the seat of her bike so she wasn’t too worried. Taking the steps she was able to jump down most of them until she got to the underground parking area. Her hazel eyes were hardened to steel. This was the person she was used to being and it showed it the way she held herself.
Turning the bike on she let the fuel do its job before she put her helmet on and revved the engine. I hope if Jane got the message she has a way to the site. I can’t wait on her. She sighed lightly as she pushed the kickstand up and gunned the engine shooting off into the traffic as she followed minutes behind of Heartstopper. What was waiting she had no idea, but she knew the location was on the rougher side of the city from what she had been told. Which meant one of two things to her. It was a pick up place for cargo that they would either have to make sure didn’t get picked up or they were there to make sure the cargo went the whole way. Another option is that she finally had another level three job.
Glancing back towards the stage, her father was motioning for her to join him. Just my luck. She thought to herself. She had to do this and then get out of the room back to her own suite to change. Taking the stage she was careful not to make eye contact with anyone for too long.
“Uh… I did not know I had to make a speech.” She said lightly trying to gain some sympathy on why she wouldn’t be standing there for much longer. “What I can say is that it is an honor and thank you for coming tonight.” It was almost all she could think of from the top of her head. She looked over at her father before turning and leaving the stage.
On the way to the door she sneaked behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of the whiskey before she bolted out the door as quickly as she could without drawing too much attention to herself. She couldn’t even stop and see if Jane had also gotten the message or not. She really hoped that she had.
The whiskey was only a cover up. She could say later her nerves got to her and she went back to drown them out like most of the upper class. But for now she had to get out of the hotel. Making it back to the suite, she saw Tessa standing there waiting on her. Eyes narrowing she glared at the woman.
“Outfit is laid out and waiting. I received news you had a mission. Figured you would need help.” Jessie only nodded her head as she took a swig of the liquor as the other woman got her out of the dress in record time and then took her hair down.
She didn’t need any help getting herself dressed. She was used to changing into her soldier clothes in less time than it took most people in get dressed into just jeans and a t-shirt. She pulled her hair into a low ponytail as she checked her message. It gave the coordinates and nothing more. Nodding her head she grabbed her weapons from their hidden compartments after throwing Tessa out of the room then she grabbed her keys.
She had her extras to the uniform stashed under the seat of her bike so she wasn’t too worried. Taking the steps she was able to jump down most of them until she got to the underground parking area. Her hazel eyes were hardened to steel. This was the person she was used to being and it showed it the way she held herself.
Turning the bike on she let the fuel do its job before she put her helmet on and revved the engine. I hope if Jane got the message she has a way to the site. I can’t wait on her. She sighed lightly as she pushed the kickstand up and gunned the engine shooting off into the traffic as she followed minutes behind of Heartstopper. What was waiting she had no idea, but she knew the location was on the rougher side of the city from what she had been told. Which meant one of two things to her. It was a pick up place for cargo that they would either have to make sure didn’t get picked up or they were there to make sure the cargo went the whole way. Another option is that she finally had another level three job.
When Mr. Sykes came out to speak, everyone, including Desirée, turned to his attention. He was finally announcing his heir. Finally. She was well aware that this was what Cara needed before she could leave and be Jessie again. Once he called out his daughter's name, heads turned to Cara. Desirée's face showed worried as she looked at her friend. This was an expression that didn't suit Jessie at all; she looked lost. Luckily Heartstopper urged her to go on with a smile. Desirée touched her lightly on the back to give her own support for her friend.
Watching her friend take the stage, a series of quiet beeps came from nearby. They weren't sounds of the suspicious sort, but any kind of sound was bound to catch a soldier's ear; where there was a sound there was a source. Glancing to the direction of the sound, she noted Heartstopper's expressionless look. Could it be? He declared it a medical emergency... but she had a nagging intuition it wasn't such a typical reason. Her eyes returned to the stage to deter any attention she might bring to Cambray. She chuckled quietly hearing Cara's 'speech'. What caught her attention however was the fact that Cara dashed off and did not return to the floor. Had Jessie received a call as well? Jane's heart sighed. Usually the two had many missions together. The fact that Jane hadn't gotten a call meant that it must be more important than a cargo job.
Just as Jane was about to order a few drinks in self-misery, the pager against her thigh vibrated. If she could express her feelings, her eyes would be shining in excitement, but instead she kept a calm composure. Quietly, she made her way out of the large room. Once in the quiet corridor and out of anyone's sight, she picked up her speed and darted back to her suite. Jane burst into her room and immediately kicked off her heels into a corner. She reached behind herself with ease and shed her scarlet dress, taking caution to not ruin the beautiful garment. Keeping a mental note to give Margaret some sign of thanks, she laid the dress down on the bed and proceeded to stripping off any sort of jewelry. Her hand reached into her black duffle bag and pulled out her usual work outfit: her black tank, a military-coloured jacket, worn out jeans and a pair of black boots. Jane threw the duffle bag strap on her shoulder and a hairband in her mouth. As she gathered her hair and tied it up, she dashed out the door and into the stairwell. Feeling liberated from her heels, she hopped the stairs about three steps at a time. Soon enough she was down in the parking lot.
Jane ran towards her motorbike. She wasn't sure if it was appropriate to have brought her bike to such a hotel, but it was her only method of transportation. She had an agreement with the kind Margaret to keep her bike in her parking spot until further notice. Perhaps she'd talk to Jessie about it later. While she ignited the bike's engine she did one final check of her things: bag, pager, and equipment. Swinging her legs over the seat she pulled out her phone and inputted the coordinates. Jane smiled. Finally, another job. She pulled her helmet snugly over her head. Hopefully the pay would be better this time around. She backed up her motorbike and drove out of the lot and onto the street. The coordinates finally pinpointed her destination. Taking one look at the map, she wiped her history, turned off her cell phone and threw it into her bag.
Watching her friend take the stage, a series of quiet beeps came from nearby. They weren't sounds of the suspicious sort, but any kind of sound was bound to catch a soldier's ear; where there was a sound there was a source. Glancing to the direction of the sound, she noted Heartstopper's expressionless look. Could it be? He declared it a medical emergency... but she had a nagging intuition it wasn't such a typical reason. Her eyes returned to the stage to deter any attention she might bring to Cambray. She chuckled quietly hearing Cara's 'speech'. What caught her attention however was the fact that Cara dashed off and did not return to the floor. Had Jessie received a call as well? Jane's heart sighed. Usually the two had many missions together. The fact that Jane hadn't gotten a call meant that it must be more important than a cargo job.
Just as Jane was about to order a few drinks in self-misery, the pager against her thigh vibrated. If she could express her feelings, her eyes would be shining in excitement, but instead she kept a calm composure. Quietly, she made her way out of the large room. Once in the quiet corridor and out of anyone's sight, she picked up her speed and darted back to her suite. Jane burst into her room and immediately kicked off her heels into a corner. She reached behind herself with ease and shed her scarlet dress, taking caution to not ruin the beautiful garment. Keeping a mental note to give Margaret some sign of thanks, she laid the dress down on the bed and proceeded to stripping off any sort of jewelry. Her hand reached into her black duffle bag and pulled out her usual work outfit: her black tank, a military-coloured jacket, worn out jeans and a pair of black boots. Jane threw the duffle bag strap on her shoulder and a hairband in her mouth. As she gathered her hair and tied it up, she dashed out the door and into the stairwell. Feeling liberated from her heels, she hopped the stairs about three steps at a time. Soon enough she was down in the parking lot.
Jane ran towards her motorbike. She wasn't sure if it was appropriate to have brought her bike to such a hotel, but it was her only method of transportation. She had an agreement with the kind Margaret to keep her bike in her parking spot until further notice. Perhaps she'd talk to Jessie about it later. While she ignited the bike's engine she did one final check of her things: bag, pager, and equipment. Swinging her legs over the seat she pulled out her phone and inputted the coordinates. Jane smiled. Finally, another job. She pulled her helmet snugly over her head. Hopefully the pay would be better this time around. She backed up her motorbike and drove out of the lot and onto the street. The coordinates finally pinpointed her destination. Taking one look at the map, she wiped her history, turned off her cell phone and threw it into her bag.
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Jane Smith
"Why, hello there."
Cambray Charon-Craggs
Ambitious sharpshooter with aspirations of absolute power.
Michel "John" Ruthersford
"We have about three seconds to get away before the cargo blows."
Jessie Sullivan
"Head down, back to the wall, and keep quiet."
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Cambray Charon-Craggs
Ambitious sharpshooter with aspirations of absolute power.
Michel "John" Ruthersford
"We have about three seconds to get away before the cargo blows."
Jessie Sullivan
"Head down, back to the wall, and keep quiet."
Jane Smith
"Why, hello there."
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Jane Smith
"Why, hello there."
Cambray Charon-Craggs
Ambitious sharpshooter with aspirations of absolute power.
Jessie Sullivan
"Head down, back to the wall, and keep quiet."
Michel "John" Ruthersford
"We have about three seconds to get away before the cargo blows."
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The Secret War
1, 2, 3by AvengerSpirit on Tue Nov 06, 2012 9:11 pm
- 51 Replies
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- Last post by AvengerSpirit
on Sat Mar 02, 2013 9:42 am
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The Secret War
Most recent OOC posts in The Secret War
Re: The Secret War
I'm still here so its all good. Just need RC to reply too though he might be waiting on you. Who knows.
Re: The Secret War
I'm sorry, I still haven't had the time to reply. I think it'll be at least another week until I can reply.
Re: The Secret War
I'm glad to see you are both back. I am leaving the choice up to RC on this one. However, because you are with Jessie and she is now a member of the upper class, I could see some things being changed for Jane as well. Not to mention showing just how much things are going to be changing etc, as a way to set the stage for later on.
I am glad to see you have managed to get everything under control. I will be here... sorta. I will be here until the end of the school year. After that... I have no idea. My husband has orders for Korea and we are working on me getting them as well. If I do go I will still be able to get internet it just might be a while when I don't have. Should still be able to get it on my phone. But we will work all of that out the closer it gets.
I am glad to see you have managed to get everything under control. I will be here... sorta. I will be here until the end of the school year. After that... I have no idea. My husband has orders for Korea and we are working on me getting them as well. If I do go I will still be able to get internet it just might be a while when I don't have. Should still be able to get it on my phone. But we will work all of that out the closer it gets.
Re: The Secret War
So, so, SO sorry for the wait! I feel awful, I've kept too many waiting for far too long. I did not anticipate the pressures of uni life and it has taken a long while to get into the swing of things. But I think I got it now! :D
So I'm hoping I'll be back to a regular posting schedule, I'm still loving this idea and the characters and I can't wait to see how things pan out!
So I'm hoping I'll be back to a regular posting schedule, I'm still loving this idea and the characters and I can't wait to see how things pan out!
Re: The Secret War
Were you planning on it to be a level 3 mission? If so, I don't think Jane would have the chance to join you. If you were, then I can make it so that Jane stays out of that mission.
Re: The Secret War
Yes, I know. Chicken hasn't been on in seven days either. If you can post go ahead and we'll see if it will bring even one of the boys in.
Re: The Secret War
It appears Jacinto hasn't paid the site a visit since the beginning of the month. Oh noesss.
Re: The Secret War
Thank you everyone. I just wish there had been a reception or a honeymoon, but the army can be a real pain in the ass. Needless to say I haven't seen him since the day after the ceremony. Anyway, school just got up and running so that's why my post is a bit late.
Re: The Secret War
SUCCESS! I got a post up. I may be unavailable for a week starting now. Lots of assignments!
Re: The Secret War
Congratulations Avenger! I wish you all the best.
I also offer a further apology, I've been off visiting family and I misplaced my laptop. When I retrieved it I found myself without internet access and have been bouncing from pillar to post ever since. Finally back on track and heading home in a few days so I'll be back to being able to post as and when required. Just hammered together a post that I had half-started a week ago so it might be a little odd to read but I needed to get something up so we can carry on.
I also offer a further apology, I've been off visiting family and I misplaced my laptop. When I retrieved it I found myself without internet access and have been bouncing from pillar to post ever since. Finally back on track and heading home in a few days so I'll be back to being able to post as and when required. Just hammered together a post that I had half-started a week ago so it might be a little odd to read but I needed to get something up so we can carry on.
Re: The Secret War
Its fine. I completely understand. I got married yesterday and he's going off to another base tomorrow. So things are a little crazy. Though I can't wait to get this started again.
Re: The Secret War
Good to see the return of Jacinto.
Sorry I'm taking a while with my post but I've hit a holiday-inspired creative block. I think I may have celebrated a little longer and harder than was completely necessary and worn myself out. Rest assured, I intend to take a nap later today and have another crack at writing a response when I'm feeling a little fresher. At the latest I'll have a post up tomorrow night.
Sorry I'm taking a while with my post but I've hit a holiday-inspired creative block. I think I may have celebrated a little longer and harder than was completely necessary and worn myself out. Rest assured, I intend to take a nap later today and have another crack at writing a response when I'm feeling a little fresher. At the latest I'll have a post up tomorrow night.
Re: The Secret War
I have returned! I'm sorry for my absence, things just went and all sorts of crazy in the past month, but I am back, and am ready to continue.
Re: The Secret War
Its fine take your time. Still waiting on Rain to post and at least he's been on recently now. Hopefully he will get around to posting soon while I still have internet.
Re: The Secret War
I'm back! Had an awesome time, read Runika's post and will try to get something up this evening, but it IS Christmas Eve after all so I might just get too excited/busy preparing for tomorrow. Merry Christmas!