Admin 
Admin 
Admin 
Mod 
Post by Deleted on Apr 4, 2018 5:09:22 GMT
Timeline: TBD
Previous Threads: N/A
Characters Involved: @kinsey Raz
Location: New York P.H.O.B.I.A Base
The scorn on so many faces would have bothered most people. The knowledge that you were hated by so many would eat at your soul. But not Kinsey. Maybe it was true what they said about him. Maybe he didn't have one.
The slamming of locker doors and heavy boots were the fanfare for the soldiers leaving the room, equipment stored away for the next time the men at the New York P.H.O.B.I.A branch were called to action. The mission had been a complete success and yet- every man bar one was in desperate need of a drink.
As all the men filed out, they kept their voices low, they didn't want their plans to unwind to be overheard by the interloper at the end of the table they were leaving behind. There would be no invitation for him. Not even by accident.
Still in his full regalia, the deep reds and golds unlike the rest of his unit, Kinsey leant back in a chair with two heavy boots up on the table in front of him. The golden mouthpiece of his mask was detached and seconds later a cigarette came to meet his lips. The stick of toxic chemicals was lit by an old, engraved lighter and a long draught of smoke was pulled into ravaged lungs.
Leaning back further, Kinsey pressed his head against the wall behind him. He could just about see the no smoking sign above him through the eye-holes of the mask.
Of course, the smoke had gone in, but not a single vapour came out.
The last man threw Kinsey a look like thunder, barely concealed anger in his chocolate eyes. But he was used to this. This unwanted child of the P.H.O.B.I.A unit. Their complaints were waved off by their superiors. 'Special dispensation' was all the response they got. They kept trying to get rid of him. Every time more angry than the last, but nothing seemed to change their mind.
The man's looked was met with a genuine smile.
He wrinkled his nose and walked away.
Left alone in the locker room, Kinsey took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke disappearing, never to return. He had nothing better to do. Nowhere to go. No one to go home to. But did this bother him? Did any of it bother him? It was impossible to tell behind that grin carved into his jaw.
The silence was broken by a low humming. Pausing only to take a drag from the cigarette and the next one after that. About a minute later, the humming turned to words. Why he was singing this he couldn't tell you, it was just a whim of the day.
"So I handed him my bottle
And he drank down my last swallow
Then he bummed a cigarette
And asked me for a light
And the night got deathly quiet
And his face lost all expression
Said, "If you're gonna play the game, boy,
You gotta learn to play it right... "
Tag: Raz
Previous Threads: N/A
Characters Involved: @kinsey Raz
Location: New York P.H.O.B.I.A Base
The scorn on so many faces would have bothered most people. The knowledge that you were hated by so many would eat at your soul. But not Kinsey. Maybe it was true what they said about him. Maybe he didn't have one.
The slamming of locker doors and heavy boots were the fanfare for the soldiers leaving the room, equipment stored away for the next time the men at the New York P.H.O.B.I.A branch were called to action. The mission had been a complete success and yet- every man bar one was in desperate need of a drink.
As all the men filed out, they kept their voices low, they didn't want their plans to unwind to be overheard by the interloper at the end of the table they were leaving behind. There would be no invitation for him. Not even by accident.
Still in his full regalia, the deep reds and golds unlike the rest of his unit, Kinsey leant back in a chair with two heavy boots up on the table in front of him. The golden mouthpiece of his mask was detached and seconds later a cigarette came to meet his lips. The stick of toxic chemicals was lit by an old, engraved lighter and a long draught of smoke was pulled into ravaged lungs.
Leaning back further, Kinsey pressed his head against the wall behind him. He could just about see the no smoking sign above him through the eye-holes of the mask.
Of course, the smoke had gone in, but not a single vapour came out.
The last man threw Kinsey a look like thunder, barely concealed anger in his chocolate eyes. But he was used to this. This unwanted child of the P.H.O.B.I.A unit. Their complaints were waved off by their superiors. 'Special dispensation' was all the response they got. They kept trying to get rid of him. Every time more angry than the last, but nothing seemed to change their mind.
The man's looked was met with a genuine smile.
He wrinkled his nose and walked away.
Left alone in the locker room, Kinsey took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke disappearing, never to return. He had nothing better to do. Nowhere to go. No one to go home to. But did this bother him? Did any of it bother him? It was impossible to tell behind that grin carved into his jaw.
The silence was broken by a low humming. Pausing only to take a drag from the cigarette and the next one after that. About a minute later, the humming turned to words. Why he was singing this he couldn't tell you, it was just a whim of the day.
"So I handed him my bottle
And he drank down my last swallow
Then he bummed a cigarette
And asked me for a light
And the night got deathly quiet
And his face lost all expression
Said, "If you're gonna play the game, boy,
You gotta learn to play it right... "
