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First one.

John ran his hand down the small window that showed the vast beautiful nothingness that was space. It was freezing, a little unwelcoming, but he loved it just the same. "Wow. To think, behind five inches of fiber glass is enough carbon monoxide to choke out every single living organism that has ever lived." He smiled. "Far out." He's been held up in his room since lift off, not venturing out to what would be his home for a while. He wanted to sit and take it all in, not mentioning the fact that he slept in until around twelve.. It seems his mental clock wasn't set to "space time". He was staring out of the window and listening to the melancholy hum of the spaceship, thinking about the day before. How he gotten card that had said "Proud of you." from his parents. Proud of you. that's it! I know my parents weren't really on good terms with my occupation of choice, but I mean come one. An at least a, "Hey son, We're so damn glad that you get to go to space and have an opportunity to save everyone on Earth!" would suffice. He sighed, and shoved the thought out of his head. He thought that it just about time to leave his cabin. So he threw on some neutral jeans and a brown shirt, and exited his "abode". He smiled at a few people he passed in the hallway and made his way to the lab.


The night before he didn't bother looking at the labratory. He was tired, it was late and knew that he would have the whole next day to putter around in it. He wondered where Amanda was, knowing her he thought she would be messing about in the lab. But when he entered it was oddly quite. Kinda creepy, like in a science fiction movie. Actually, everything he was feeling was kinda like he was in a fiction. He thought it was pretty darned cool. He smiled as he opened the large containers of chemicals and snooped around. Everything was so clean and efficient, he couldn't wait to mess it up with his off the wall experiments. He was very serious about his work, but also very un-serious about his seriousness, you could say. Confusing yes, but in smaller words I guess you could say he was "eccentric". Immature. Silly. Whatever you'd like to call it, that was Johnny for you. He leaned against the desk there, smiled, and from him seeped out a small chuckle. "Very far out."


~

Second one.

Sam continued to press the sharp kitchen cleaver up against the woman's throat, paying no attention to her hoarse screaming. "Oh dear. You've gotten blood all over my corset. Naughty girl." She looked over her shoulder at Arthur. "Oh, hello my dear! Just finishing up on this broad. She just doesn't seem to give up!" She shut off her struggling with one final propulsion of strength onto the woman's larynx which produced a large stream of blood to spray across her face. She fell abruptly to Samantha's feet when she let the pressure off of the woman."There we go." She washed her hands and face in the sink near to her, and gave a smile to Arthur.

~

Third.

Peter gave Gabrielle a weak smile, and cleared his throat. "Yes! I shall be John-- Oh what was it again?-- Oh yes! I shall be John Wright! The most amazing writer of the century!" He put his hands on his hips and stared proudly. "And what have you written, O amazing author?" Sam gave him a menacing smiled. He took his hands down and squared his eyes. "Well, nothing yet I'll reckon... But I will! I'm a deep well of knowledge, my dear. There's so much great literature buried deep inside me, it hurts!" "And that name! What kind of writers name is, "John Wright"?!" Peter exhaled and smirked. "C'mon! A great one! It has "write" right in the name! .. And how about you, what alias do you have to take on, Mrs. Wright." She looked around the room and frowned. "I have yet to deduce such information, Mr. Wright. I haven't found a speck of ID on this broad..." She walked around the room and opened the drawer on the bedside table. No such luck. She repeaded this action with the other drawers in the table. "Ah! A marriage license. Perfect. Let's see here.. Mothers maiden name... Eye color... Blood Type.. Ah! I'm--" Her smiled faded. Peter came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Ah c'mon! What is it?" She sighed flatly. "Margret. Margret Wright." He looked at her and smiled. "Well what's wrong with that?" She shrugged. "I don't know. I was just expecting something more, you know, spontaneous.." He laughed and kissed her on the cheek. "I think it's pretty. Don't you Arthur?"