Greetings Traveler,
OK, a little cheat here. This tidbit has been sitting in my drafts for years–nearly eight, actually. I would like to get more creative writing in, but it required a certain mood. By way of explanation, this is my Illuminati character from The Secret World.
Daddy was a Vietnam vet. Not one of those acidhead burnouts. He assisted in the evacuation of Saigon, then made a career of it. He made sure his whole brood could fire any number of different guns. Rifles, pistols, shotguns—you name it, I've squeezed the trigger. Among my brothers and sisters, I was always the most natural shot; but since the Bees came, my aim is downright uncanny. Big Bro followed in Daddy's footsteps, got into West Point and everything. He's a Light Colonel now, I think. Daddy was slightly disappointed that I didn't go the military route myself. But there was still no room for women in the infantry when I came of age, and I didn't need to play Army a couple times a year and spend the rest behind a desk or pulling weeds. And I wasn't about to become some G.I. Jane parody.
Oh, to be sure, my current employers take plenty of advantage of my skill in libraries and literature. But on such missions, I feel more like a Tomb Raider than a scholar, like my recent trip to Salamanca. They just had to have that Loyola manuscript. Turns out the accusations were correct, but like all true Illuminati, Ignatius escaped prosecution.
Anyway, so I went from pantsuits to jeans and camo jackets, unless I need to look the part of the university professor again. KG calls me her Lone Star Belle. A real NYC bitch, that one—or maybe La La Land. I hate The City, regardless of the coast it's on.
When I first joined the Firm, I hadn't held a weapon in years. They frown on that sort of thing in Academia. I actually thought I would try the fist claws. I love Hugh Jackman—couldn't imagine anyone else as the Wolverine (Dougray who?). And that X-factor healing ain't got nothin' on the Bees. The claws aren't as easy as they look, though.
Eventually, I settled on an array of firearms. See these pistols? My great grandfather wore them. Colt M1873s. Other folks use newer pieces, but there's a certain feel to the Peacemaker, especially since they're family heirlooms. Don't you worry about the "limited capacity" of a six-shooter. I haven't used bullets since Solomon Island.
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Scooter proofreads almost all my articles before I post them, for which I am very grateful. However, any mistakes are mine and mine alone (unless otherwise noted). If you are reading this post through RSS or Atom feed—especially more than a couple hours after publication—I encourage you to visit the actual page, as I often make refinements after publication. The mobile version also loses some of the original character of the piece due to simplified formatting.
Scooter proofreads almost all my articles before I post them, for which I am very grateful. However, any mistakes are mine and mine alone (unless otherwise noted). If you are reading this post through RSS or Atom feed—especially more than a couple hours after publication—I encourage you to visit the actual page, as I often make refinements after publication. The mobile version also loses some of the original character of the piece due to simplified formatting.
