by DELETE_THIS_ACCOUNT » Sat Aug 10, 2013 1:53 am
Or so I thought. I woke up with a pounding head ache, and a painful chest. I heard lots of noise around me. But I was dead, right? My eyes flickered open to see where I was. I was in a hospital, surrounded by nurses and doctors. I could feel bandages wrapped around my bare chest. I sat up, and saw a doctor sitting next to me. He had chestnut brown hair and large, green eyes.
“Morning,” He said, with an Irish accent “How are you?” I shrugged at the man.
“Been better,” I replied, as a sharp pain stabbed me in the back.
“Bet you’re wondering why you’re still alive?” enquired the man.
“It crossed my mind,” I said, more casually than someone who should be dead should.
“Well, the answer is this,” He said, holding up the pocket watch. It was now shattered, and very much broken.
“Slowed down the bullet, took away some of the force. Still gave you a nasty wound, but you’re better than you would have been if you weren’t wearing it.”
“I’ll say,” I said, the remembered. “What about Onyx?”
“You mean the girl you were with?” asked the man. “The Russians kidnapped her.”
“What?!” I exclaimed. The man nodded.
“Unfortunately; they left what they thought was your dead body behind, and took the child. We turned up after they left, and found you, and inch from death.”
It was a lot to take in. I needed to get her back, but didn’t know how to manage it. I realized others had probably gone through similar torture. I turned back to the doctor.
“I don’t suppose…” I started.
“You could join up? I was going to ask you actually. What age are you?” He cut in.
“16”
“Ok, you’re old enough,” He said. “And name?”
“Jasper Ivan Thorne.” I replied. The man nodded.
“Welcome to the team,” He said. “I assume your dad trained you?”
“A little,” I said. “Not much, though.”
“That’s fine.” He said. “I was thinking stealth missions for you, anyway.”
“You’re not a doctor?” I asked. He shook his head.
“No, I’m in charge of stealth missions, actually. Maxwell Bane. I think we’ll be working together more often.” He said.
“I suppose,” I said. He stood up and signalled me to follow. I did, and pulled on a plain white shirt with a few bloodstains on it from the end of the bed. I supposed it was the same one I had been wearing when I had been shot.
“You’ll be living at base for a while. You’ll be sharing a room with another boy your own age. Try not to get into too many arguments, because you are going to be partners in this whole thing.”
We exited the building, I followed him into a black BMW and he drove off.
Sorry, everyone. I'm trying to delete this account, I don't use it and it's a bit of a waste. So bye, everyone. T-T