Bloodsport:MarissaPIntro
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TheElderOnes (Talk | contribs) (Creation.) |
TheElderOnes (Talk | contribs) (Fixing the way health was displayed. In my own notes I even made sure not to use numerical values, but I guess I just derped on this page. ._.) |
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[[Bloodsport:MarissaPIntro2|Cliché as that may be, you just know that today is going to be different. ''Bad'' different.]] | [[Bloodsport:MarissaPIntro2|Cliché as that may be, you just know that today is going to be different. ''Bad'' different.]] | ||
- | {{Bloodsport.|Location=Room | + | {{Bloodsport.|Location=Room 604|Character=Marissa P|Health=Fine|Kills=N/A}} |
[[Category: Bloodsport.]] | [[Category: Bloodsport.]] |
Current revision as of 07:51, 26 December 2011
Tick... tock... tick... tock...
You watch the clock, managing to keep a calm head despite your anticipation. Every second wasted waiting is another second they get stronger. The sound of distant gunfire keeps you from relaxing, and the killing of your best friend is still fresh in your mind, the only source of motivation you need. Finally, your patience is rewarded when your walkie-talkie crackles to life.
"Miss Proppes? Perhaps you'd like to tell us the correct answer?"
You stare at your walkie-talkie, confused. That didn't sound like anyone in your squad...
"Ahem. Are you with us, Miss Proppes?"
A tap on your shoulder from your left snaps you back into reality, and you stare at your chemistry teacher, Mr. Stewart, blankly.
"Uh... repeat the question, Mr. S?"
Mr. Stewart sighs and shakes his head. "What is the mass of one mole of copper two sulfate?"
Glancing down at your worksheet in front of you, you find "CuSO4" and realize you made no effort to find the answer. You take a quick "peek" to your friend Devin, seated to the left of you, skimming his sheet for the answer.
"Oh! That'd be somethin' like 160 grams, right?"
"About, but in the future, I'd recommend you come up with your own answers instead of relying on mister Kent for help. Now at least try to pay attention to this next review question. You might learn something after all."
You know he's egging you on like he does with every other student in the class, but you can't help the little bit of embarrassment you feel. The fact that quiet laughter takes a quick hold on the room certainly doesn't help, either. Mr. Stewart starts to talk about how to tell sulfite and sulfate apart, but your mind begins to wander again. Your daydreaming habits have always been one of your worse qualities, and your cousin introducing you to the world of console FPSes certainly have done nothing to help that - aside from making them more interesting, that is.
That was three weeks ago, and your grades have already began to suffer for it. Dropping your bag at the door and heading into your room to fill the rest of your day (minus breaks for necessities like food and use of the bathroom) with the sound of your own obscenities mixing with those from around the world. Maybe time management should be added to your list of negative qualities...
Either way, the next time you're shaken from your daydream is when an enormous crashing sound fills the room as the power goes out. Reactions are mixed throughout the room, with some laughing while others scream. The lights are only out for a minute, no more than two, clicking back on to reveal that Mr. Stewart is gone.
Cliché as that may be, you just know that today is going to be different. Bad different.
Bloodsport. | ||
I Am: | Marissa P. | I'm In:
Room 604. |
I Feel: | Fine. | |
Kills: | N/A. |