Writing Sample: "Recruited" |
Silhouette waited, as she so often did, in the dark. This particular dark was the corner of a back room in a bar off Rue Mouffetard. The ambiance was pure dive, and that meant plenty of smoke and shadows; although the entire setting would help the meeting go smoothly the shadows would be all she needed.
She spotted the soldier immediately. Although he tried to blend in as a local thug out to enjoy a drink and maybe head home with a girl, the set of his shoulders betrayed him. His eyes scanned the place, searching the corners a little too closely. Vivienne waited, leaning up against the wall and keeping herself solid. Part of her body would remain in shadow throughout the meeting, however, just in case she needed to slip away in all haste.
The man was in his late twenties or early thirties (it was so hard to tell with military hair cuts) and possessed the sort of confidence that had several girls looking his way. He spotted Vivienne in the corner in short order and made an attempt at a disarming smile. She flashed one back. “Cozy little spot for a chat, isn’t it?” She offered as he approached.
“Only because the air is still free,” he replied. It was the signal; this was her contact.
Vivienne nodded, relaxing slightly as the first part of the plan had gone well. If he was military, at least there was no one descending upon the location to take her away. At least not yet. She did not offer a hand, as many would, nor did she kiss his cheeks in the traditional greeting. She remained leaning against the wall, smoking her cigarette and speaking softly. “True. But freedom is only worthwhile if we use it…” She lifted an eyebrow and waited. It was one of the first rules: make the prospective client speak the sin first.
No one was paying attention, but if anyone did happen to see the two talking, the hum of conversation in the place would cover their words nicely. The officer (or so she thought of him due to that stiff bearing) stood a respectful distance away and spoke with a quiet smirk. The smile set her nerves on edge for some reason. “I couldn’t agree more.” He glanced down at his shoes (Definitely military – no one else actually wears those kinds of boots with khakis. Not unless they are trying to go for the militia look.), before meeting her gaze again. “I’m glad you came, but I have a confession.”
She stood a little straighter, debating whether she should go before he said another word. Too many alarms were ringing in her head.
“Don’t go just yet,” he said apologetically, but his contrition was corrupted by the commanding nature of the words. Her gaze narrowed. He sighed under his breath and pushed forward. “There is no lab, and I am sorry for the need to lie to you. But we knew you wouldn’t come to hear us out otherwise.”
Vivienne wasn’t impressed. She took another step into the corner, where the shadows were greatest. “We?” Her anger shone through in her tone. Unfortunately, so did some of her fear.
The officer nodded. He made no move toward her. Somehow that was more alarming. “I think you’ve heard whispers of Atlas. I’m here because we think you’re a good candidate.”
“Atlas?” she echoed, playing dumb. Meanwhile, her mind screamed, The U.N.? Shit! The implications unfolded quickly in her mind. This was not good.
The officer nodded. “Yes. Atlas. And I’m sure you’ve heard of it. We made sure you did.” He let that sink in for a moment. Then, gently, “Have you considered that you might belong as part of the team? It would pay very well, and there would be other perks.”
Vivienne shook her head with an ironic smile. “I’m not one for teams.” That wasn’t true, though. She had enjoyed working with Domani, until the dynamic had shifted. There was a big difference here, though. “Especially government ones.”
The last words were barely audible, but the man seemed to hear them. He nodded. “We recognize that.” He folded his arms across his chest and spoke slowly, patiently, like explaining to a teenager why curfew was not going to be adjusted for the night. “But therein lies the issue. You see… if you’re not part of the team…” His shrug declared that he regretted the rest of the unsaid sentence. She was quickly growing to dislike his shrugs.
When it became clear he wasn’t going to continue, she finally spoke. “So I join or you put my name on a list.”
He didn’t answer.
Vivienne shook her head. “Anyone ever tell you about flies and honey?”
The man smiled and shrugged again as he unfolded his arms. That cinched it: she hated his shrug. “The project isn’t designed to hunt down anyone simply for who – or what – they are. But as you know, any team reflects the attitudes of its members.” He straightened as he glanced over the bar, and then met her gaze again. “We won’t force you, or anyone, for that matter. But at some point, you have to decide what side you’re on. Personally, I think you’ve already done that – but that doesn’t mean everyone will see things as I do. Some people need that choice to be crystal clear.”
Vivienne didn’t say anything.
He reached for his coat pocket and pulled out a card. Taking a small step forward, he set it down on the high tabletop against the wall. “When you’re ready to let us know.” He studied her for a moment more before turning on his heel and heading out the door into the night air.
Vivienne frowned as she stepped forward, put out her cigarette and took the card, which had only a number and a simple instruction to ask for Mr. Manning on it. They knew about her. At least about Silhouette, and possibly about her alter ego as well. The officer’s declaration that he didn’t personally think she was one of the bad guys might have been based on intel, or it could have just been conjecture. It didn’t matter. If she didn’t join, she would be on the run, continually looking over her shoulder. If she did, she would be hunting down other metahumans. It was an impossible situation.
Over the next two days, she weighed the options. In theory, the Project was only about finding the metahumans that were dangerous to society. They did exist, of course – she’d met some of them. Hell, she’d worked with some of them, and learned which she didn’t want to work with again. He had implied that she could act as a conscience; keep innocent people from getting caught up in hysteria. Ultimately, that was what tipped the scales. If she had to go in, at least it would be willingly. It gave her a better chance of walking out the same way. Maybe she would even enjoy working with a team again. But there was one problem.
Her decision made, Vivienne dialed the number on the card and asked for Mr. Manning. The voice at the other end of the phone was deeper than the man she had met. She was surprised at her slight disappointment.
“Have you reached a decision?” To his credit, he sounded neutral about it.
“I have a couple conditions.”
He waited.
“First, I can’t be part of a local team.” She wouldn’t run the risk of being used to target people she knew and had worked with.
“Easy enough. We have an opening in the United States. Will New York do?”
“Yes.” She took a breath and nodded, though he couldn’t see it. “Second, I need a cover job and a promise of the ability to move about freely.”
There was a brief pause before he responded. “Done and done. Anything else?”
She shook her head, trying to shake the feeling she’d just phrased her wish to the genie incorrectly. “That’s it.” She took a breath, during which the world seemed to shift a little under her feet. “Just don’t make me regret it.”
She spotted the soldier immediately. Although he tried to blend in as a local thug out to enjoy a drink and maybe head home with a girl, the set of his shoulders betrayed him. His eyes scanned the place, searching the corners a little too closely. Vivienne waited, leaning up against the wall and keeping herself solid. Part of her body would remain in shadow throughout the meeting, however, just in case she needed to slip away in all haste.
The man was in his late twenties or early thirties (it was so hard to tell with military hair cuts) and possessed the sort of confidence that had several girls looking his way. He spotted Vivienne in the corner in short order and made an attempt at a disarming smile. She flashed one back. “Cozy little spot for a chat, isn’t it?” She offered as he approached.
“Only because the air is still free,” he replied. It was the signal; this was her contact.
Vivienne nodded, relaxing slightly as the first part of the plan had gone well. If he was military, at least there was no one descending upon the location to take her away. At least not yet. She did not offer a hand, as many would, nor did she kiss his cheeks in the traditional greeting. She remained leaning against the wall, smoking her cigarette and speaking softly. “True. But freedom is only worthwhile if we use it…” She lifted an eyebrow and waited. It was one of the first rules: make the prospective client speak the sin first.
No one was paying attention, but if anyone did happen to see the two talking, the hum of conversation in the place would cover their words nicely. The officer (or so she thought of him due to that stiff bearing) stood a respectful distance away and spoke with a quiet smirk. The smile set her nerves on edge for some reason. “I couldn’t agree more.” He glanced down at his shoes (Definitely military – no one else actually wears those kinds of boots with khakis. Not unless they are trying to go for the militia look.), before meeting her gaze again. “I’m glad you came, but I have a confession.”
She stood a little straighter, debating whether she should go before he said another word. Too many alarms were ringing in her head.
“Don’t go just yet,” he said apologetically, but his contrition was corrupted by the commanding nature of the words. Her gaze narrowed. He sighed under his breath and pushed forward. “There is no lab, and I am sorry for the need to lie to you. But we knew you wouldn’t come to hear us out otherwise.”
Vivienne wasn’t impressed. She took another step into the corner, where the shadows were greatest. “We?” Her anger shone through in her tone. Unfortunately, so did some of her fear.
The officer nodded. He made no move toward her. Somehow that was more alarming. “I think you’ve heard whispers of Atlas. I’m here because we think you’re a good candidate.”
“Atlas?” she echoed, playing dumb. Meanwhile, her mind screamed, The U.N.? Shit! The implications unfolded quickly in her mind. This was not good.
The officer nodded. “Yes. Atlas. And I’m sure you’ve heard of it. We made sure you did.” He let that sink in for a moment. Then, gently, “Have you considered that you might belong as part of the team? It would pay very well, and there would be other perks.”
Vivienne shook her head with an ironic smile. “I’m not one for teams.” That wasn’t true, though. She had enjoyed working with Domani, until the dynamic had shifted. There was a big difference here, though. “Especially government ones.”
The last words were barely audible, but the man seemed to hear them. He nodded. “We recognize that.” He folded his arms across his chest and spoke slowly, patiently, like explaining to a teenager why curfew was not going to be adjusted for the night. “But therein lies the issue. You see… if you’re not part of the team…” His shrug declared that he regretted the rest of the unsaid sentence. She was quickly growing to dislike his shrugs.
When it became clear he wasn’t going to continue, she finally spoke. “So I join or you put my name on a list.”
He didn’t answer.
Vivienne shook her head. “Anyone ever tell you about flies and honey?”
The man smiled and shrugged again as he unfolded his arms. That cinched it: she hated his shrug. “The project isn’t designed to hunt down anyone simply for who – or what – they are. But as you know, any team reflects the attitudes of its members.” He straightened as he glanced over the bar, and then met her gaze again. “We won’t force you, or anyone, for that matter. But at some point, you have to decide what side you’re on. Personally, I think you’ve already done that – but that doesn’t mean everyone will see things as I do. Some people need that choice to be crystal clear.”
Vivienne didn’t say anything.
He reached for his coat pocket and pulled out a card. Taking a small step forward, he set it down on the high tabletop against the wall. “When you’re ready to let us know.” He studied her for a moment more before turning on his heel and heading out the door into the night air.
Vivienne frowned as she stepped forward, put out her cigarette and took the card, which had only a number and a simple instruction to ask for Mr. Manning on it. They knew about her. At least about Silhouette, and possibly about her alter ego as well. The officer’s declaration that he didn’t personally think she was one of the bad guys might have been based on intel, or it could have just been conjecture. It didn’t matter. If she didn’t join, she would be on the run, continually looking over her shoulder. If she did, she would be hunting down other metahumans. It was an impossible situation.
Over the next two days, she weighed the options. In theory, the Project was only about finding the metahumans that were dangerous to society. They did exist, of course – she’d met some of them. Hell, she’d worked with some of them, and learned which she didn’t want to work with again. He had implied that she could act as a conscience; keep innocent people from getting caught up in hysteria. Ultimately, that was what tipped the scales. If she had to go in, at least it would be willingly. It gave her a better chance of walking out the same way. Maybe she would even enjoy working with a team again. But there was one problem.
Her decision made, Vivienne dialed the number on the card and asked for Mr. Manning. The voice at the other end of the phone was deeper than the man she had met. She was surprised at her slight disappointment.
“Have you reached a decision?” To his credit, he sounded neutral about it.
“I have a couple conditions.”
He waited.
“First, I can’t be part of a local team.” She wouldn’t run the risk of being used to target people she knew and had worked with.
“Easy enough. We have an opening in the United States. Will New York do?”
“Yes.” She took a breath and nodded, though he couldn’t see it. “Second, I need a cover job and a promise of the ability to move about freely.”
There was a brief pause before he responded. “Done and done. Anything else?”
She shook her head, trying to shake the feeling she’d just phrased her wish to the genie incorrectly. “That’s it.” She took a breath, during which the world seemed to shift a little under her feet. “Just don’t make me regret it.”