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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Velenne" data-source="post: 873320" data-attributes="member: 1856">1st Floor – Reception RoomClairemont MansionAmisha is carried where they take her, listens when spoken to, but hard as she tries, she keeps fading back into memories.  Her body has stopped listening to her, turning into a jumbled wad of knots and cramps so painful she has to tune out to stay concious."You're NOT going into the military and that's final!  End. Of. Discussion!" Her father.  Ken Patel.  It had always been her parents' way to let her choose her own path.  They had been hippies, smoked a lot of dope, that kind of thing.  Now Ken was a car salesman and Maria, her mother, stayed at home.  They didn't live great, but it was enough to get by.  Not enough for a trust fund or a college savings for sure. Amisha's eyes snap up to look at Yuri.  Her lips move slightly but nothing comes out.  "This here's a .22, Amisha.  My pop uses it to hunt quail.  You ever shoot a real gun before?"  Hunt.  Just the word mesmerized her.  To be a hunter, to stalk a prey.  To control who lives and who dies.  Even at thirteen, at the far west end of Jimmy Salzer's farm where he thought he could get to second base with her and no one would catch him, she understood what it meant to kill."Can I hold it?""Sure..." Ya, Jimmy knew he was definately getting to second...until Amisha stuck the end of the .22 in his crotch."I'll give ya fifteen seconds head start to get back to your house.  If I catch you, I'm shooting you right in your redneck @$$hole, Jimmy Salzer."Her head rolls to the right to look at Maria holding the shotgun.  A slight grin touches her pale lips."Well HOLE LEE $hit, Private!  Where on God's Green Earth did you learn to shoot like that?"  It was all she could do not to say, Not from some wheatstalk-chewer like you, Lieutenant.  Twenty rounds in the clip, eighteen bullseyes.  Nope, they'd never seen a sniper like her come along, but she'd been hearing that since Boot.  From 500 meters though, that was enough for even a grizzled vet like this cornhusker to drop his jaw.  "I'd ship you right out to sniper school tomorrow, Private Patel, I really would.  But I've got orders from On High," he points to the sky as if God Himself -also known as the Secretary of Defense- had sent along a fax, "See me in my office at 1900."Then her eyes drop from Maria to her own shoulder.  All ooze, blood, bone, and muscle making a mess on someone's nice carpet.  Whoever's <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /><img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /><img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /><img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" />ing carpet this is can go rot in Hell.  I'm not dying here and I'm sure as hell not gonna let my parents be right.</blockquote>

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