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by Panda Coffee 4/12/2011, 12:27 amChapter one:
I tilt my head back and look at the glorious full moon, it seemed to have a red tinge to it, as if it knew what was going to happen tonight. On the other hand it could’ve just been my guilty mind. I look towards the party lights twinkling below and start to jog slowly down, my black cloak floating silently behind me. A man in a crisp tuxedo barely bumped into me “Sorry.” He murmured and I smiled and nodded, fingering the small I.D. that he had slipped into my palm. I clipped the badge to the collar of my cloak and continued to the security stand. I walked up to see about five men, all in black tuxedos and bowties next to a plastic table with a basket. Wordlessly, I unclasped my cloak and put the metal clasp in the basket, passed my new badge to a man, and drew my gun from a strap on my thigh before putting the Glock 45. into the basket and passing through the metal detector. No sound. I grinned, a small grin before I wiped my face clean of all emotions and picked up all of my things from the basket, one of the men was staring at me “Close your mouth, we don’t need you drooling.” I told him before I turned away and melted into the crowd, the Secret Service I.D. showing plainly next to the clasp at my throat. I scan the crowd, my mark was nowhere to be found, but he, of course, was a spy so that was no surprise. I leaned against a wall and crossed my legs, the crimson dress underneath my cloak showing plainly next to the dark shadows. A red-haired man walked by me and I dismissed him, just another rich, snobby guy. My hearing stretched out, a man and a woman conversing about marriage about 20 feet away, a small black-haired man talking on the phone about his racehorse, and so on. Her ears perked on two young woman talking “Sir Arnold?” The shorter one asked the tall one nodded enthusiastically “He’s at the gate now.” She said. I smiled, and shrank into the crowd toward the gate, he was not going to get away now.
I tilt my head back and look at the glorious full moon, it seemed to have a red tinge to it, as if it knew what was going to happen tonight. On the other hand it could’ve just been my guilty mind. I look towards the party lights twinkling below and start to jog slowly down, my black cloak floating silently behind me. A man in a crisp tuxedo barely bumped into me “Sorry.” He murmured and I smiled and nodded, fingering the small I.D. that he had slipped into my palm. I clipped the badge to the collar of my cloak and continued to the security stand. I walked up to see about five men, all in black tuxedos and bowties next to a plastic table with a basket. Wordlessly, I unclasped my cloak and put the metal clasp in the basket, passed my new badge to a man, and drew my gun from a strap on my thigh before putting the Glock 45. into the basket and passing through the metal detector. No sound. I grinned, a small grin before I wiped my face clean of all emotions and picked up all of my things from the basket, one of the men was staring at me “Close your mouth, we don’t need you drooling.” I told him before I turned away and melted into the crowd, the Secret Service I.D. showing plainly next to the clasp at my throat. I scan the crowd, my mark was nowhere to be found, but he, of course, was a spy so that was no surprise. I leaned against a wall and crossed my legs, the crimson dress underneath my cloak showing plainly next to the dark shadows. A red-haired man walked by me and I dismissed him, just another rich, snobby guy. My hearing stretched out, a man and a woman conversing about marriage about 20 feet away, a small black-haired man talking on the phone about his racehorse, and so on. Her ears perked on two young woman talking “Sir Arnold?” The shorter one asked the tall one nodded enthusiastically “He’s at the gate now.” She said. I smiled, and shrank into the crowd toward the gate, he was not going to get away now.
