So I'm trying something out with this, sort of like a "How the team got there" thing. Any concrit would be welcomed, and sorry if the French is off in some places: Google Translate only gets you so far. I'm also trying to do an intro like this for every class, depending on how this one goes down. ------------------------------------------------ The Frenchman was enjoying his mandatory evening cigarette in the shaded front of the small bistro he had come to enjoy in recent months. The buxom waitress, hair pulled back in a beehive held in place by a blue Alice-band, was clearly some sort of foreign exchange student; her French was unravelling one customer at a time, the man noticed. She made her way to him as he stubbed out his cigarette. “Puis-je vous aider, monsieur?†she asked, a single lock of black hair falling from her delicate head onto the man’s suit jacket. “Un café, s’il vous plait.†He replied, handing her a franc. “Oui, monsieur.†She turned on her heel and headed inside to fetch his order, mumbling what the Frenchman took to be “Un café, that’s a coffee. God I hate this job.†He scoffed quietly at the girl’s Southern accent, as he lit a new cigarette and inhaled its blissful poison. He always enjoyed the Parisian sunsets, the way the golden light reflected in all directions and yet still managed to cast long, deep shadows always amused him like a child with a new toy, no matter how many times he saw it. The waitress returned with his coffee, placing the mug delicately on the cast iron table, and hurried off to serve her newest customers, an overweight American couple. Both looked relieved to recognise someone from their own country, but the wife in the couple looked disgruntled as she put her “French for beginners†book back inside her handbag. As the man drank his coffee, he thought it tasted a bit stranger than usual. Almost like it had been burnt, but he let it go this time; his compassion rearing its head for the first time in several months. He had seen the waitress rushing around for most of the day, and he gave her his forgiveness in payment for the many fantasies he’d dreamt in his head whilst watching her from afar throughout the day. He drank the rest of the coffee in one large gulp, most unlike a gentleman, and rose to his feet. Nodding in the direction of the waitress with a sly smile, he walked placidly down the street as she stumbled mid-sentence whilst blushing madly. The man ducked into a small alley, and withdrew a small pair of binoculars with which he would have watched the girl some more, if his head hadn’t suddenly begun to spin and the world didn’t swim blurrily before his eyes. He felt small thin arms catch him as he began to slump towards the ground, the smell of coffee and sweat filling his nostrils as he saw a slender figure peering down at him, the only detail that struck him being the light blue Alice-band stuck in their hair. His dreams filled with a light blue swirl of contentment, lust punctuating it in red, smoky flourishes.
I love it. I also humbly request more, well-written.
Do continue!
Well I can assure you this has most definitely piqued my interest. I never really gave thought to how the classes came to be in the employment of RED or BLU, since I assumed they were all mercenaries for hire. This has a dark, sinister and mysterious feel to it and I would love to see where you go with this.
Thanks, guys! This one's a lot more dialogue-driven than Spy's was. Also, it has more French. (What can I say, I love the language) Got another two nearly ready to go; who would you lot prefer to see first, Soldier or Engineer? -------------------------------------------------------- The doorbell rang throughout the house, echoing in the empty rooms, muffled in the ones filled with old, fragile looking furniture. A man emerged from the main bedroom of his abode, clad in only a vest and loose-fitting jeans, to open the door. He was greeted by a short, Hispanic woman clad in a pale green business suit, her left am clasping a clipboard and handbag as her right hand adjusted her thick glasses. “Bonjour, Monsieur Preston, je m’appelle Adrienne. Je suis inspecteur des indecies, je comprends votre cuisine a pris feu la semaine dernière?†“Uh, oui Mademoiselle. Souhaitez-vous prendre... um, un coup d’oeil?†“Serait-plus facile de parler en Anglais, monsieur?†“Yes, Miss, yes it would.†“Excellent. I would love to see your kitchen then.†He led her through to the kitchen at the rear of the house, where scorch marks blackened most of the room. The charred remains of a table lay in the centre of the room, slowly crumbling into itself. The rest of the debris rested outside beside the patio, “My, my. This IS quite extraordinary. It will be near impossible to determine where ze blaze began in here, but I feel it will be safe to assume that ze oven is ze main source.†“Probably. So is the insurance going to come through alright?†“Yes, it shouldn’t be a problem, sir. I’ll make sure this report goes in by the end of today.†She was hurriedly scribbling on the clipboard, occasionally casting glances around the room, then continuing her notes with her nose screwed up. “Mon Dieu, how do you stand ze smell in here? It smells more zhan a tobacco incinerator.†“You get used to it after a while. Doesn’t bother me, really.†Adrienne was reaching into her Chanel handbag for something, her clipboard held under her right arm. “If you don’t mind me asking, Mr Preston, you aren’t from Quebec, are you? Your accent was off slightly.†“California, born and raised. Got bored and moved up here.†“I see. Another question; are you always zis cold to the ladies, or humanity in general?†She withdrew a small canister of what appeared to be air freshener from her bag. “Does it matter?†He took a defensive stance, arms crossed as he leant against the blackened wall. “Not at all.†Said Adrienne, as in one fluid movement she removed the lid from the canister and sprayed it directly into Preston’s face. He coughed twice, tried covering his face with one hand, then fell to the floor with a loud thud. Adrienne replaced the canister in her bag, and this time drew out a small walkie-talkie. “Pauling to Cleanup, fire is out. Repeat, the fire is out.†All traces of a French accent disappeared at once. Casting one more glance at the unconscious Mr Preston, she smiled and walked from the cold, plain house as a large black van pulled up outside.
I'm so happy someone is doing something with Miss. Pauling. There is not nearly enough of her. I'm also really pleased you're doing it like this - I've always thought she would be to the Announcer what Mercy is to Lex Luthor. As to the next bit, of the two, I'd love to see Engie, but I'd be happy with either him or Soldier. I can't wait to see more.
It would be nice to either see consistent accents in their dialog. Interesting so far.
I had the hugest feeling it was her, so my smile was wide when it was confirmed. I agree though, I see her doing all of the personal 'fieldwork' jobs for the boss. Well-written and I'm looking fowards to more.
I'm so glad to see a 'recruitment' fic that doesn't have someone random recruiting the teammates. Ms Pauling is right there, perfectly servicable, why do we need someone new? Anyway, I agree with the accent crit, but am hoping to see MUCH much more of this please!