Thread: [Other] Atlantis Awakening [IC] [M]
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Old May 9th, 2013, 03:33 AM
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firelordyago
The Sentinel
 
Join Date: Sep 2009
Location: Syndicate HQ
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Nature: Modest

Wyatt Cale – Syndicate HQ, Birmingham, England


The bow felt awkward in his hands, much less the quiver now half full of arrows that remained strapped over his shoulder as he dodged and rolled around the training room. Blunted arrows, rubber bullets and a variety of other ammunition came flying from all directions until Wyatt could shut it off. So far, he had hit one target out of twenty but could never get enough time to target one before taking it out.

“Concentrate, Wyatt, don’t over think it, act on it!” Doctor Meier’s voice boomed out.

Cursing beneath his breath, Wyatt began firing arrows wildly until he was down to but a few with none of them hitting anywhere remotely near a target. Sprinting from one pop-up wall to another, he managed to claim back a handful more arrows before another volley of ammunition came firing his way. Many of the turrets were manned by the skeleton crew of scientists while only a couple ran on their own, randomly-seeming path which made it hard for Wyatt to even begin predicting their trajectory. Standing up abruptly, he ran a quick scan of the surrounding area, hiding back down before another volley of attacks headed his way. Memorising the location of the targets, he notched an arrow before rising again and, without stopping to aim, let loose the arrow before letting another two fly. Crouching back down, he heard the familiar powering down of the turrets as the bullets slowed to a stop.

“Good, Wyatt, sixteen more to go,” Doctor Meier’s voice again boomed overhead, “time to up the difficulty.”

Moaning, Wyatt could only guess what the mad doctor meant. From either side, a strange, mechanical clicking began to resonate within his ears and he had a strange fear that he knew exactly what was happening. Peaking over the top of the wall, he caught a final glimpse of one of the turrets, peel away from its mounted position on the wall into something resembling GlaDOS on wheels. The rolling turret was obviously manned by one or more of the scientists, but its targeting system seemed entirely computer like. Regardless, he had no time to contemplate the inner workings of these new robots as they knew of his immediate location and were both making a beeline for him. Sprinting for the next set of pop-up walls, he felt the unmistakeable burn as several rubber bullets fired into his back. With the targets now moving and pushing him out of hiding, he needed to move more quickly and there was no telling how many more tricks these people had up their sleeves.

Focussing his attention on the wall while he had a moment of rest, he brought to mind an image of the wall fading away, and after a couple of seconds, the edges of the wall began to fade, moving ever so slowly towards the middle until it was as if the wall wasn’t there. Revelling in his success, he took note of the only moving target swivelling around in front of him and a couple of others mounted on the wall. Before he could even draw an arrow from his quiver, he froze as the robot in front of him did a final swivel before locking on him. Cockily, he knew he was still behind the wall, so he continued to slowly notch his arrow until a bullet punched into his chest. Winded, he recovered quickly, not knowing if the wall was really there or if it has subsided while he was seeing through it.

“The hell was that?” Wyatt yelled up at the control room.

“You can’t always rely on your abilities, Wyatt.” The Doctor’s condescending voice reverberated from the walls.

“a**hole,” Wyatt swore under his breath, continuing his escape from the wandering sentinel. He had almost lost the sentinel until he face-planted into the hard ground. Cursing, he scanned his environment for anything that could have caused him to trip, and eventually a small platform shimmered into view. He continued to curse, this time at his “useless” affliction that was considered an Atlantean ability. To make things worse, the two sentinels now loomed over him, guns only a metre away from his face.

Before they could fire, the whole simulation shut down, turrets retreating to the wall while the platforms and walls returned to their places in the floor. Climbing into the elevator, he rode it back up to the lab. He was beaten, bruised and at the end of his energy levels, he wasn’t ready for the infamous ‘analysis’ the doctor said he was going to do after his rather brief training session.

“I’m not in the mood to deal with anything you have to say, doc,” his tone drenched in anger and frustration.

“Good, well get yourself in a better mood, the Boss wants to see you.”

Wyatt was taken aback, this company, this Syndicate had a lot more facets to it than Wyatt had initially figured. There must have been many secrets that the Syndicate had buried beneath their paper weights or hidden in secret drawers that many people would want to get their hands on. Still, for now he had to play his cool, get what he needed from these people. He had little time to reconsider his stance as the Directive stepped through the elevator doors.

“Cale, with me,” Was all he spoke and grudgingly, Wyatt followed him into the elevator.

The elevator ride was silent as Wyatt tried to work out the bumps and bruises left behind from his altercation with the sentinels. He didn’t realise it until now, but the quiver was still strapped to his back and the bow firmly gripped in his hands. It seemed that the Directive had little words of advice to give Wyatt on how to deal with this ‘Boss’ of theirs, and something made him believe that Mr Cain here was perhaps a bit scared. The elevator opened and Wyatt was buffeted by the immense scent of roses as he followed the Directive up to the receptionist’s desk.

“Danny, how are you?” The red head behind the desk cheerfully greeted him, “Oh, and you brought the second-favourite, good for you!”

“Enough of your crap, Rose, let the Boss know he’s here to see him.” His voice was rough and stern; obviously the two didn’t have a very good relationship.

“Sure thing, Danny,” she pressed on, the nickname seeming to strike a bad string within the Directive, “Darren, there’s a boy here to see you,” she spoke into the phone that no doubt went direct to the office. “The Boss’ll see him now, but not you, Danny.” She smiled a wicked smile.

Once through the double doors, Wyatt sat down in one of the two chairs on the opposite side of the desk. “You wanted to see me?” He asked sarcastically.

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit,” the man replied, swivelling his chair around. With penetrating blue eyes, dark blonde hair and a face that reminded Wyatt of the actor who played Lucifer in Supernatural, he now understood the fear behind the Directive. “But let’s cut to the chase here, mister Cale, or should I say, mister North,” Wyatt froze, next to no one knew about his name change, and very few of those who did, did not know both lives.

“So you’ve been stalking me, great.”

“Like I said, mister North, lowest form of wit. We’re here to offer you a chance to make something out of yourself, something more than a simple university student. The world is reaching a major turning point in time, and we need you to play your part in tipping it towards our favour. Turn it in our favour, and we’ll compensate you greatly.”

Wyatt could be nothing but shocked, somehow he was meant to help this company of crazies to push the world in their favour at some point. The idea behind it was pure ludicrous, but somehow it resonated within Wyatt as if the idea was something he was meant to do, destined to do even. “Sure, so I agree to this thing, what kind of ‘compensation’ do I get?”

“You do what we want, without question, and you will have access to some of our funds and a degree of leniency to do your own thing.”

“So you’re telling me, all I have to do is be your little lap dog, and you’ll give me treats? I’m sorry, but I’m just not buying it Darren.”

The Boss firmly planted his hand on the desk, “It’s Mr. Stagg, to you, Wyatt and if you don’t want our offer, then fine, I’m sure your university will be thrilled to find out their star Archer uses his ability to cheat through tournaments. Good luck with that. Come back when you want to stop being a child and finally grow up to be a man.” He swivelled his chair back around, Wyatt taking the cue that it was his time to leave.

“You win, Darren, I’ll be your little lap dog, just don’t treat me like one.” He slammed the door behind him, furious at the way he had been treated. He joined the Directive in the elevator, hitting the button to the living quarters angrily.

Darren Stagg – Syndicate HQ, Birmingham, England


“He’s a little hot headed, but he’ll come around eventually. Trust me, I’ve seen it.” The blind, wizened old man stepped out from the shadows that had enveloped him previously.

“He’s a little brat that needs a solid hand,” The Boss replied to the blind figure, “why couldn’t we have taken the other one, the one who’ll actually amount to something.” His face, height and weight all changed until, sitting in the chair, was a harmless looking girl with curled blonde hair.

“All in due time, my friend,” for as scary a man as Darren Stagg was, the blind man’s voice certainly sent chills up his spine, “everyone has their place in the grand scheme of things; some are just more important than others. Be nice to the boy, and he’ll be nice to you in the future.”

“Whatever you say, old man.” The girl’s high pitched voice weirdly contrasted to the deep voice he had before.

“Why must you always taunt me with that perception? It hurts my feelings.” The man’s face drooped, “I am the Blind Prophet after all.” He smiled wickedly.
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