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Sky's Big Book Of Bull This is where I'll post random pictures and short stories I write, and other random junk.


TheDreadPyrateRoberts
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Brothers Pt. 4
My eyes lit up with astonishment, my body could not move. The door was halfway open behind me, and this girl, no, this gorgeous woman, had spoken to me. I was simply in awe of her beauty, and her voice was completely alluring. She snapped her fingers and I fell out of my trance. I shook my head and asked, "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
She shook her head and sighed. "Welcome to The Nix. That's the name of this gang. Ambrosi has told me about what you did for that boy a few days ago, but other than that, I don't know anything about you. Would you mind telling me?"
I had trouble hearing what she said, as her voice, the view, and her gorgeous face had me in a trance that, once broken out of, trapped me once again. I managed to hear what the gang's name was, but that was about it.
"Why do you guys call it 'The Nix'?" I asked, with an awkward voice that tried its best to sound confident.
"Well, we wanted to involve freedom, or free in our name, so we thought 'Freeze' was a good idea because it sounded similar to free, but then it turned into 'Snow', and people began to like that, but I wanted something a little more sophisticated, so instead of using the English word for 'snow', we use the Latin word, 'nix', which also means 'snow'. Now, can you tell me anything about you? What is your name, to begin with?"
In and out of trances I managed to hear the majority of what she said, and then began to ponder her questions. "Russel." I said, almost whispering. "I'm 22. My mother and father are dead, and I used to live with my sister, who doesn't even know I went to prison."
The woman took a pen, flipped it quickly upside-down, tapped the table with it, exposing the writing point, and began jotting down a few notes on a small notepad.
"Alright, Russel. My name is Bri." She said, eyes sparkling with a mix of curiosity and distrust.
"Pleased to meet you, Bri. What exactly will I be doing here?"
"I think, given your strength, and less-than obvious wit, I'd like you to go to work in our military system. You can start tomorrow. Be at the first floor, room 115. As for your living arrangements, you'll have a room on the fourth floor. It is already furnished, so the only things you will be adding to it is personal effects and clocks, mirrors, and other stuff like that. Here is your key." Upon her last statement, she handed me a key that had been neatly organized in one of the drawers in her desk. The key looked very simple, with the number "32" roughly engraved on it.

My new life had just begun.




 
 
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