Post by Deleted on May 7, 2013 7:12:07 GMT -5
Bang! The massive crash from the L115A3 AWM's bullet thundered throughout the training room like a speeding train, puncturing the paper thin target a few hundred yards away. This expansive training room was specifically designed for long range weaponry, something Malcolm Hulderic had not grasped in quite some time since beginning his work as the Representative. Thankfully, his aim was still spot on without his abilities which allowed Malcolm to release a relieving sigh before removing his iris from the scope and rising to his feet. Malcolm had been created to be a machine but now his natural born talents were needed here, allowing him to place his life of murder onto the mantle, apparently never to be touched again. Granted, it was mostly enjoyable to enjoy this life without excessive violence however this job had its own demons that Malcolm had to adapt to. Politics.
Sometimes, he did miss the old days when a bullet to the face solved everything. Alas, that was never a true way to solve a problem, especially now. Twisting his shoulder, he felt a sting of pain envelope his entire right arm. The arm never fully healed from the assassin's bullet surprisingly enough. The one that had punctured his thigh left a nasty gash but never gave him problems like the little sh*t in his collar bone. Groaning silently, he strolled to a nearby table which was adorned with guns, magazines, and smaller melee weapons. Gazing downward, he peered at his professional tailored suit before shooting his eyes back to the plethora before him. "If only there was a way..." He muttered in his heavy English accent. He took hold of a knife and began to dig into his pockets and fished out his keychain full of keys. Sauntering, he stood a few feet in front of the nearest wall and for a few moments only stared, concentrating.
"Here goes nothing." He charming baritone let out a sigh and suddenly he tossed his keys high into the air. As they fell he honed his iris' to the tiny circle which gathered all of the trinkets onto its single ring and with supernatural prowess tossed the dagger towards the moving target hoping to manage the blade into the ring and pierce the wall; all of this was without his abilities. He used to achieve this, could he still?
With a annoying jingle his target hit the floor and his weapon flew into the wall, puncturing the thin wood wall. "Wonderful..." He smiled, however he was not in the least amused. "That's incredibly embarrassing." Even through this difficult time, his stature stayed composed, his British upbringing overtaking him as he studied the sad fact that he was extremely rusty. Maybe... it was best to leave?
Sometimes, he did miss the old days when a bullet to the face solved everything. Alas, that was never a true way to solve a problem, especially now. Twisting his shoulder, he felt a sting of pain envelope his entire right arm. The arm never fully healed from the assassin's bullet surprisingly enough. The one that had punctured his thigh left a nasty gash but never gave him problems like the little sh*t in his collar bone. Groaning silently, he strolled to a nearby table which was adorned with guns, magazines, and smaller melee weapons. Gazing downward, he peered at his professional tailored suit before shooting his eyes back to the plethora before him. "If only there was a way..." He muttered in his heavy English accent. He took hold of a knife and began to dig into his pockets and fished out his keychain full of keys. Sauntering, he stood a few feet in front of the nearest wall and for a few moments only stared, concentrating.
"Here goes nothing." He charming baritone let out a sigh and suddenly he tossed his keys high into the air. As they fell he honed his iris' to the tiny circle which gathered all of the trinkets onto its single ring and with supernatural prowess tossed the dagger towards the moving target hoping to manage the blade into the ring and pierce the wall; all of this was without his abilities. He used to achieve this, could he still?
With a annoying jingle his target hit the floor and his weapon flew into the wall, puncturing the thin wood wall. "Wonderful..." He smiled, however he was not in the least amused. "That's incredibly embarrassing." Even through this difficult time, his stature stayed composed, his British upbringing overtaking him as he studied the sad fact that he was extremely rusty. Maybe... it was best to leave?
