Rowan Max Steele Scene 1 English assignment

     Rowan stood behind the bar counter, it's wood faded and stained from years of drinks being spilt. The hazy rays of sunlight were starting to peak over the horizon through the window to her left. Dust motes swirled around, capturing her attention momentarily. This is what she had worked so long and hard for, a job as a bartender in some half rotted dive bar in the outskirts of Portland. The skies above Maine, usually cloudy were clear, the odd fluffy one straining across the lavender and orange colored sky. Sighing she turned back towards the wall finishing up inventory. This wasn't the life she had wanted, but rather this was the life she had been thrust into. Her life before had been wild and dangerous, but the danger was what had attracted her at first. Ever the thrill seeker she had signed up for a life of violence, she had convinced herself that it was only so she could pay for the rest of her schooling. But that was a lie, she had done it thinking it would be great, that the glory would wrap her in some golden light, that she would finally stop being so restless. But the afterglow had been dark, the color of raw agony. She had been reckless and had made so many mistakes, she could have lost her life so many times, but she hadn't, someone else had paid the price in her place. But she did what she was trained to do, what she had been doing since she was a small child, she moved on. She felt the guiilt coil in her stomach, but she forced it down, this is her life now. Taking a deep breath Rowan stood up straight, hearing the chime at the door signalling a new customer she internally tensed up. Customers don't often come in at this time, too early for most, too late for others. Feeling the guilt in her stomach replace itself with suspicion she puts a genuine looking smile on her face. She listens as the footsteps near the bar, three distinctly different strides, all confident, and yet one seeming more aggressive than the others. The footfalls stop behind her, turning around it is all she can do to keep the sudden surprise, anger, and guilt from flitting across her face. It was inevitable that they would come for her, they rarely let people with the kind of information she has walk free and unsupervised.

     Both the director and co-directer stood on either side of Devon Kessler. Both of them intimidating in their own ways. Nathan Bauer standing at roughly 6'4 with a body built like a brick house, the man was an impressive sight. He could kill a man in an instant for just looking at him the wrong way, but beneath the deadly exterior, is an abundant well of patience that would put a saint to shame. Women who walk past him on the street instinctively cross to the other side gripping onto their purses in fear and anxiety.  He is imposing and yet what people don't realize is that he is kind. Torri is like a daughter to him, she is the only one who can make him smile. Torri Eastwood is a small Indian-american woman with big innocent brown eyes and a guileless smile. But that is a lie that all to many fall for, she can beat trained killers in hand to hand combat with ease. She is a fierce fighter and her eyes blaze with an intensity that contradicts her small stature. She is swift and confident and her sweet ambrosia laughter melts the hearts of many. Men fall for her all the time but she is married to her job, and to her duty.  Out of the whole agency Nathan and Torri make the best team, they are so in tune with one another that they rarely need to speak to convey their ideas and thoughts. And right now the wonder duo has dragged me to some cheap dive bar in the outskirts of Portland so I can meet my new partner. Sighing I push my aviators up the bridge of my currently broken nose, before stuffing them into my back pockets. Recruiting newbies has got to be my least favorite thing to do. Following behind Torri and Nathan I scan the local trash heap. Off the side of a major highway this place is notorious for it's bloody biker brawls. A man is behind the bar, not very tall with a buzz cut, his back is facing us. This better not be my new partner. Growling with impatience he stalks towards the bar ready to get things over with as quickly as possible. As the man turns around Devon pulls up short. A slender woman with buzzed hair and the bluest eyes he had ever seen, it took all he had not to stare. Her mouth formed a brilliant smile showing off pretty white teeth behind bright red lips. "What can I help you with?" Her voice is soothing, calming his agitated nerves. But behind the charm was something else. He recognized it a second later, she looked quite relaxed and yet beneath that was a tension, like a cat ready to pounce on any weakness it sees in its prey. "Yes I am looking for Max Steele, I was informed that he works here." Behind him Devon hears the sighs of his two superiors. The girls smile drops and her eyes slant at him accusingly "Max isn't here, can I ask why you want to see him?" Her tone is edged like a blade, wickedly sharp and deadly. "It is about his time spent working for the government, just a routine check." Trying to make his tone placating. Behind him Nathan pushes him aside and looks at the girl intensely  "Rowan Max Steele we are here to discuss matters in regards to the time you spent in the military. Is there a privet place where we can talk?" The girls gaze turning into molten glare directed at the three of us. Placing her fingers to her lips she lets out a loud piercing whistle. "Time to get out guys!" There is a general grumble from the remaining patrons but they gradually leave. Moving behind them the girl locks the front door. The sound echoing off the walls, a sound of finality. I pull out a chair to a table, the legs screeching against the floor in protest. Sitting down I stare intently at the faded wood, the stains of old drinks spilt, and the gouges from years of wear. I don't look up as the others pull out chairs and sit down, my training seems to have abandoned me. I hadn't been paying attention when Nathan was briefing me on my partner, I should have listened. Max is sitting across from me, her eyes looking more green than blue under the rays of hazy golden sunlight. She looks tired, like she had held the world on her shoulders for just too long. Bags I hadn't noticed before lay heavy beneath her eyes. The happy looking girl from before is gone and before me now sits the highly trained killer. Her gaze turns sharp when she notices me looking at her, the last traces of softness gone, leaving behind a hard exterior. The steel that rang in her next few words shocked me to my very core. "I  am done with the military, I have no reason to return to that life. I gave everything for my country, and when all was said and done they left me there, surrounded by blood of my comrades. So don't get any ideas in your head, don't think that I will return to that life no matter what you say." There was an undercurrent to her words, a raw and indescribable agony. Emotions do you no good, they only trap you binding you to useless things and places. "We aren't part of the government. We are a shadow agency, we are only known by the senator and the president, both of which deny we even exist. You would also cease to exist, your history and any record of you erased." Her face was blank, as if a mirror it only reflected, nothing of her could be seen. "Our agency deals with everything from drug rings to slave trade and everything in between. But more specifically we need you for your skills and abilities, we have received information that the president of Ukraine; Viktor Yanukovych, is going to be assassinated  In the last few years Ukraine's arms export has grown at a tremulous rate, specifically nuclear arms. We believe that someone has put a large cash reward for the death of the president so that they can spark a nuclear war. The president is scheduled to be in the U.S in one week, we believe that this is when he will be executed, this will allow for the blame to be pushed on the U.S resulting in a war we aren't prepared for." I already knew about this, it had been my assignment for the last few weeks and I had done everything in my power to get more information but it seems that there was none. I had come up with the idea that we could get our best sniper to take out the assassin, but our best is currently deep undercover in china. Nathan had found the something even better, never failed an assignment, but the icing on the proverbial cake; the guy was an ex Navy S.E.A.L. The only problem was that the guy we needed had disappeared off the face of the earth after his last mission. We had spent days with our finest guys trying to pull files on him, but we were unsuccessful, until we stumbled on a portfolio with only two sheets. One was a discharge paper, the other a registration sheet. The guy had apparently stolen the rest of the sheets the day he disappeared. We now have a chance of stopping a nuclear war from breaking out and the only thing standing in our way is Max. "You were the top sniper in your division  with forty eight confirmed kills, you were unparalleled in both skill and expertise  That is why we need you. You have a chance to save other people from feeling what you felt the day the government turned its back on you. Don't make the innocent suffer." Nathan always had a way of bending people to his will, he would use any means necessary to get the desired outcome. If it meant manipulating a person he would do it, but he drew the line at petty threats. He was the kind of guy who was born to protect, it's all his kind know. Her eyes blazed at Nathan's words, her lips drawn into a taut line. She would make or break this case. "After this you will leave me alone, you will never come looking for me, any and all information you have on me will be erased. This is my last kill, after this I will never pick up that gun again do you understand?" Her tone was cold, her voice chilling as ice. "Yes we understand no information shall be left behind, as well we will not bother you again. But remember if any information on us is leaked we will not hesitate to kill you." Nathan never threatens people he only makes promises. "Oh and by the way it was forty nine confirmed kills." With a smirk on her face she stands up and walks over to the bar. "When do I start?" A confident smile graces her lips.

     Just as Rowan turns to grab a bottle off the back wall behind the counter, it explodes in a colorful shower of glass and alcohol. The room is suddenly peppered with the sound of ricochetting bullets. Jumping behind the bar I reach under the counter for my Jericho 941 semi automatic. Everything seems to slow, I can't take my eyes off of the familiar weapon. I had held this gun the same day I lost her. It falls out of my hands going off in the process, it misses me by a few inches. I am paralyzed, stuck starring at the gun. It looks cold and alien and yet just seconds ago it felt warm and familiar. I am a specially trained sniper who can't even hold a gun any more. A bullet rips through my shoulder, shredding everything in its path, I fall backwards my vision blurring momentarily  At first there is nothing then a searing pain, branding my shoulder. Blood is everywhere, as far as I can tell it hit only muscle, maybe grazing a bone. I am trained to take pain, this is what I know. Breath deep, push it out of your mind, focus on surviving. Groaning in pain I get into a crouched position once again. Over head a bottle shatters in a shower of rum and fragmented glass shards. The shelf behind me creaks and I move to the side only to have a burning hot barrel placed against my temple. Survive. Do not die. Live. Instinct takes over and I attempt to knock the gun from the figure's hand. My attack fails as I feel the base of the gun connect with my temple. Stay awake, that is all that matters. My thoughts start to fragment, crumbling like paper turning to ashes. Blackness starts to shatter the reality, encroaching on my vision. Stay awake long enough together needed information. Thoughts lose meaning, slipping through my fingers like water, elusive to my incoherent mind. A word slices through the air, breaking the dark, and yet it is more terrifying than any blackness. Abbadon.