United States

Female. Youngest of six. Pretty (?), sarcastic, Tom-boyish, and very much a geek.

Message from Writer

I guess I should say honest feedback is best but nothing crazy brutal. That said, please don't go to the other extreme and try to spare my feelings. Be descriptive and truthful because I really want to improve.

The Art of Scarring

May 22, 2015

PROMPT: Story of a Scar


"You called." I state as I walk into the dimly lit office, though it looks more like one of those fancy politician's offices rather than the standard cubical. Hard wood flooring, dark brown walls, a solid oak desk with three black leather chairs around it and a tinted glass cabinet behind it which I'm certain contains illegal beverages and substances alike all add to the overwhelming feel of luxury at any price. My boss sits behind the desk, playing with his half full glass of who knows what, swishing the liquid back and forth somewhat idly. 

"You've got a new client. Anonymous," he stated.

I'm not surprised. In my line of work, no one uses their real name, if they even bother to give them. We met in the darkest shadows so we could never be seen, in crowded streets so we could never be heard. The camera never caught a clear picture of us. Yet I could probably find any of my clients if I wanted to: people left subconscious trails. I just never really cared to follow them.

"Target?" I ask. Until you're on a case, keep all talking to a mimum. The more you talk, the more you reveal, and revelations can cost someone their head.

Without putting down his drink, he uses his free hand to push a jet black folder across the table. I lean over and open it.

Right away, I'm shocked by the sheer amount of weight. The files tended to be specific. I didn't need to know all the extraneous stuff. For some jobs, I'm just given a picture and 'appointment,' as my boss calls it. So I'll be using more wit and charm than quick trigger fingers this time around.

The first thing I see is a photo. A girl stares straight back at me with a confident smirk. The file includes a picture of her from every angle. I don't memorize her features just yet, merley taking note of her long hair and her general silihoutte. Instead, I begin to peruse the documents.

Fifteen. Currently in Centra. No known alias. No known hometown, but not native to Centra. Alright, I think to myself, standard runaway. Then I dig a little further.

I knit my eyebrows together. The list of known associates consists entirely of military personal. Reports personally back to the head of the military. Okay, she's a bit odd.

Then I look at the next sheet of paper.

She's got a rank. Rank  - she's fifteen! How the heck did she snare the title "Federal Alchemist" already? The training for that is intense. I'd understand if she were given AIT, pretty much guranteeing her eventual acceptance as a Federal Alchemist when she came of age. They're rare, and only given to prodigies. It's all title and no responsibility. But an actual Federal Alchemsit? They outrank so many officers, are sometimes in control of entire states if they aren't too busy acting as secret trump cards for an infiltration or combat mission.

Alright, I say to myself, this one's gonna require some effort on my part. I allow a quick smile to flash across my face. I hadn't had a good challenge in a while.

My boss clears his throat, getting my attention. "Our friend requested you persuade her to see the bigger picture."

I nod, fully understanding his meaning. The buyer wanted her to switch sides, betray the military. It wasn't all that surprising. The underground rebellion hadn't been getting anywhere close to killing the head of the military. This girl was the perfect way in. 

All I have to do is twist her thinking a little bit. Cut her up into tiny pieces and sew her back together into a more twisted whole. She'll look the same on the outside, but her personality would be scarred beyond recognition.

"I'll get right on it."

I'm aware I really bent if not outright broke the guidelines but I really like the finished result. This piece took much longer to write than I originally planned.


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