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message 1: by ☺♡M♡☺, The Mod that <3 Exclamation marks! (last edited Mar 12, 2010 03:07AM) (new)

☺♡M♡☺ (moonlanpersonyahoocom) | 412 comments Mod
I've decided to add a group story, taking a leaf out of the WWAC (Writers Who Are Children) group's book. Each person can write a part of this story. Please make sure that you do not exceed the ten sentence limit.

Thanks, Moonlan

Story beginning (I'm sorry if this sucks, I didn't give it much thought): The night was rainy and windy. The dark street was completely quiet except for one flickering streetlamp. Far off, drunk hooligans were guffawing about some perverted thing.

Suddenly, a set of headlights flashed down the wet street. The driver was exceeding the speed limit by so much. As the car flashed under the working streetlamp, you could see that the driver was a teenage girl, probably no older than fourteen. Her eyes were set in a determined glare as she sped down the street. As the vehicle disappeared down the road, another car flew across the asphalt, nearly crashing into a tree. This car too, hurried down the same path.

message 2: by Cleveland (new)

Cleveland | 3 comments Everything taking place was noticed by a tall dark figure stood in a doorway wearing oilskins as protection against the heavy rain. The pub across the street held his interest.
"Come on my lovely," the man said to himself. He dropped a hand to a bag hung on a long length of cord or jute around his shoulders. He prised open the bag and slid out a thin strip of steel.If only the pub he watched would get rid of its drunken inmates then he might put 'Jasmin' to work.

message 3: by ☺♡M♡☺, The Mod that <3 Exclamation marks! (new)

☺♡M♡☺ (moonlanpersonyahoocom) | 412 comments Mod
The town clock struck midnight. The man was growing impatient. He stepped into the pub, and was greeted by a hideous bartender.

"G'day sir…what's for you?" crooned the ugly woman.

"Nothing. I'll just sit for awhile," but noticing the look on the woman's face, he said. "Alright, how about some ice water."

"That's all?" grumbled the bartender as she filled and passed a glass to the man.

"Yes. What time does this place close?"

"Never. It's 24 hours. But most of these people do leave around three, and I leave when this place is empty."

"Oh." Holding the glass of water, the man walked around, observing the inebriated scoundrels. Most were already staggering around, bumping into furniture and each other.

The pug was a small, simple shack. Worn, faded china plates set the tables. A old clay fireplace crackled cheerfully. Dim kerosene lamps hung on the walls of the room. Dried, salted meat hung in heavy sides from the rafters. The shack was thick with the smell of burning kerosene and smoke.

The man wandered around the small pub. Another man arrived and ordered a small beer.

"What's ya name?"

The man spun around in surprise, "Me?"

"No, that pig over there! Yes, ya!"

"Er…Jackson Mason."

"Hiya, Jack. So it is ya!"


"It's me! Jordan! I've bin lookin' for ya for years!"

"Hi, Jordan." greeted Jackson unenthusiastically.

"Bud, we gotta have a good ole drink ta-night!" Jordan shoved the beer bottle into Jackson's face.

"No, Jordan, I'm, uh…allergic to alcohol!" lied Jackson.

"Really?" squinted Jordan.

"Yeah, Jordan. I…er…better go, 'cause my…girlfriend wants me back…um…before," Jackson checked his watch quickly, "two o'clock." As he backed out of the pub quickly, Jackson retrieved "Jasmin" from his bag. He raced out of the pub, and on the way, he slapped the strip of steel onto the pub doorway.

Good. Mission complete.

message 4: by Ameena (new)

Ameena Adel | 232 comments He crossed the street, thinking about Jordan. He could vividly recall the time Jordan had spent with him back in Yale.

Jordan was the kind of student that cared about nothing but the parties. He was a wild child, heading from dorm to dorm drinking beer and having a blast.

They met in a party which was held in the dorm next to Jackson's. Jordan had always been a very social person, getting to know new people wherever he headed.

Jackson and Jordan did not share a close relationship. In fact, they barely even knew each other at all. It was a surprise that Jordan ever recognized him in the first place.

message 5: by ☺♡M♡☺, The Mod that <3 Exclamation marks! (new)

☺♡M♡☺ (moonlanpersonyahoocom) | 412 comments Mod
Whatever, thought Jackson. Forget Jordan. He's just a weirdo playboy from college. He rushed down the street to where the two cars had powered down.

Down the vacant, filthy street was a wonderful dome-shaped building. Jackson swiped a white ID card on a gray panel.

"Jackson Mason, identity identified. Enter password, please." said the panel in a monotone voice. A touch pad full of numbers appeared on its tiny screen.

Quickly, Jackson tapped in the random numbers and the automatic doors opened. Stepping inside the gloomy building Jackson immediately head toward the main room to meet Boss.

message 6: by Ameena (new)

Ameena Adel | 232 comments As a child Jackson had never dreamed of a job like this. He had never even viewed himself being a cone artist. He had always seen himself as a successful banker or a rich lawyer. He never even considered fraud as being a part of his future.

As he quickly moved through the huge building he kept on glaring at the walls, as if it was the first time he had seen the depressing place.

He walked as fast as he could towards the elevators. Almost tripping over one of the clear glass tables.

The place was quiet. There was no one in sight. Even though the place was as quiet as ever he could listen to his heart pounding with anxiety. He was unwilling to go and meet Boss for the third time.

His long and slim fingers trembled as he pressed the elevator button. He waited there counting every second, breathing heavily,wishing the elevator would come faster as he did not want to be late for his reunion with Boss.

Finally the "ting" sound came startling poor old lost Jackson. He entered the elevator, accidentally pressed the wrong floor which made him even more worried.

He wished the day would just end.

message 7: by Angelina (new)

Angelina | 13 comments ((Ameena, in case you didn't know, a con artist is someone who tricks people out of their money. A swindler. I'm sure that's not who Jackson is. I think Moonlan means that Jackson is a spy or something.))

Jackson entered floor 35. The top floor of this tall building. The atmosphere grew slightly less gloomy. Plush, leather seats were situated around a beautiful mahogany coffee table. Behind these beautiful sets of furniture, was a large oak door with a heavy gold alloy knocker. He picked up the knocker and dropped it. The knocker hit the door with a loud thud.

"Come in, Jackson."

Jackson wasn't surprised that Boss knew it was he in front of the door. Jackson turned the old-fashioned brass knob. He entered Boss's antique-filled office.

A beautiful mahogany desk with intricate designs all over it took up Jackson's attention. There was a swivel chair behind that desk in which Boss was seated in. Boss was not facing Jackson, instead, Boss was browsing through books on the bookshelf.



"Why do you summon me?" Jackson asked.

"Oh, ya know. How was the trip tonight?" Boss turned around. She smiled, yes Boss is a woman. A beautiful one, in fact.

Jackson blushed at the sight her wonderful complex. Boss could be easily passed off as a supermodel. Jackson instinctively looked down––it was hard to look at someone so beautiful without gawking.

"It went okay."

"Oh? Is that so? Did you test out "Jasmin"?"

"I placed it on the door frame of the pub," Jackson replied without hesitation.

"Good job, Jackson. Though I would have preferred it if you watched it, see what it does," sighed Boss.

Immediately, a pang of guilt hit Jackson. That was the sort of effect Boss had on people. You wanted to please her all the time. "Sorry Boss. An old classmate of mine found me. He nearly forced me into drinking with him."

Boss furrowed her brow. Still gorgeous though. "Who is that classmate of yours?"

"His name's Jordan McGee. I barely know him, so I don't know how he could remember and recognize me at that pub."

"That's strange…" muttered Boss. Then she jerked back into reality. "So, did you take care to see Sandra?"

Jackson nodded. "Sandra was being chased by another car. I could not interfere and help her."

Boss nodded, satisfied. "Good job, Jackson. There was no need to risk you to help Sandra. She's a skillful girl. Good job."

Jackson felt joy blossom within his chest at Boss's compliments. "Thank you, Boss."

message 8: by ☺♡M♡☺, The Mod that <3 Exclamation marks! (new)

☺♡M♡☺ (moonlanpersonyahoocom) | 412 comments Mod
((Yeah, Angelina's right. I meant for Jackson to be a spy or something. Wonderfully written, Angelina.))

"Yes, job well done. Now, you can retire to your dorm, or you can go help Sandra, wherever she is. There is a tracker on her car, after all. You can go to the tracking lab and find her. Her tracker code is––" Boss took time and searched her computer quickly. "EA14682. Got that?"

Jackson nodded, numbers were easy to remember. "Yes, Boss. I think I'll find Sandra––unless I have a mission tomorrow."

Boss thought carefully. "Ah, yes. I do have a perfect job for you, Jackson. But, there is no need for you to rest well, for this job. Tomorrow, I just want you to visit the experiment site."

"Yes Ma'am."

"You may go now, Jackson. Help Sandra." She swiveled around again and was facing the bookshelf, meaning that the conversation was over.

message 9: by Angelina (new)

Angelina | 13 comments Jackson exited the office smoothly. He quietly closed the door behind him, and headed to the tracking lab.

He entered swiped his ID once again, waited patiently while the machine checked his finger prints, and the automatic doors opened. The tracking lab was one of the most important rooms. The security should actually be stronger.

The lab was a huge, high tech room filled with screens. Against three of the walls were control panels and other buttons. Above were millions of little screens, labeled with codes. On each of the screens were little red dots, marking where the tracked person was. There were a dozen or so rotatable leather recliners for people to relax in while they watched their screens.

Only one person was in the tracking lab.

"Mason," crowed Ashley. Ashley and Jackson had been classmates in Yale and they were recruited together. Ashley for her photographic memory and flexibility. Jackson for his math skills and running speed.

"Ashley." Jackson nodded in acknowledgment.

"Long time no see, and you don't even ask about my welfare?"

Jackson couldn't help but laugh. Ashley planned to be an Olympic gymnast before she was recruited. She was tiny––5'1"––but her wild red curls made up a lot of difference. Her outgoing, devil-may-care attitude made her popular and fun to hang out with. Yet, she was efficient and quick when it came to missions.

"There you go. I thought you'd gone all boring on me," cried Ashley. "Who you tracking tonight?"



"EA14682," recited Jackson without hesitation.

Ashley shook her head. "I still can't get over how you can do that. I at least have to see it before I memorize it."

A glimmer of amusement flashed in Jackson's eyes. "That is because you memorize how the piece of paper or computer screen looks. I memorize the numbers. Okay, enough talk. Where's the tracking lab attendant?"

"You're looking at her," said Ashley proudly.

"What? I thought you were a field agent!"


"Whatever," groaned Jackson. "Help me find."

Ashley's eyes scrolled the screens. "Hm…"

"Looks like somebody's out of practice," teased Jackson.

Ashley rolled her eyes, but did not look away from the screens. "Ah ha! Found it! I'll bet I found it faster than you ever could have found it.

Jackson shook his head. "Naw, I could've done it faster. I have mathematical skills, remember?"

"So what? Here you go. That screen. The one way up, green one! Yes, there!"

"I see it. EA14682. That's right." He grabbed a smart phone-like device. "Load that on here."

Ashley turned to the control panel and typed in some things. She was done in moments. "Here you go, Jacky. Hope to see you again, sometime."

Jackson grabbed the device, rolling his eyes at the stupid nickname. "You will, Ash." He left.

"Hey Mason," called Ashley after him. "I really like that nickname. Ash."

Jackson laughed and set off to help Sandra.

message 10: by ☺♡M♡☺, The Mod that <3 Exclamation marks! (new)

☺♡M♡☺ (moonlanpersonyahoocom) | 412 comments Mod
((I really like the Ashley character…hm…maybe I'll make a girl named Ashley some time in one of my stories.))

"Sandra, Sandra, Sandra…" muttered Jackson. He sat in his car and was examining the device with great interest. The device beeped, indicating Sandra was making a turn.

"Oh well," sighed Jackson. His car purred to life, and Jackson backed out of the garage. "Mm…down Main Street, turn left…" the rest of his words disappeared into senseless muttering.

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