Information
Tactic_885
Legacy Name: Tactic_885
The
Cream TelenineOwner:
Age: 14 years, 10 months, 2 days
Born: July 5th, 2009
Adopted: 12 years, 5 months, 3 weeks ago
Adopted: November 14th, 2011
Pet Spotlight Winner
March 12th, 2011
Statistics
- Level: 65
- Strength: 164
- Defense: 163
- Speed: 159
- Health: 163
- HP: 163/163
- Intelligence: 10
- Books Read: 9
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Unemployed
Profile Graphics by Deja_Vu, Coding by 
FallenSamurai, Story by User not found: librarian
FallenSamurai, Story by User not found: librarianI moved through what was left of Main Street with my head down and my cloak tight. The rubble that had been painstaking cleared only a week ago now piled in zigzag patterned mountains on each side of the artificial ravine. The air was thick with the last lingering traces of the putrid stench of burned flesh and seared brick. I moved through the straggling crowd of the living quickly. They were almost worse than the dead, moving around with no purpose. This was all my fault, and the longer I could shut it out the better.
“What do you think, Tactic? Is it worth the risk?” Merigo asked, spreading the map over the lavish wine crate in the center.
“It could work,” I said, adjusting the spaghetti strap of the mauve party dress. I hated dresses, but a suit would be suspicious. But we would need time.”
“I can get you time,” I remember turning at him, gun in my hand and finger on the trigger even before I spun completely around. He was tall, handsome, with dark hair and darker eyes. But his eyes were sharp and quick, cunning, the kind of man that you didn't want against you.
“Freeze or we'll--” I began, but he held up a hand.
“Shoot? Come, come, this room isn't exactly sound proof, Tactic,” he said, using my military nickname, the only name he knew me as. “If that is your real name. Killing me would blow your cover.”
“Letting you live could do worse,” I said, my teeth gritted.
“What? Me? I'm harmless,” he leaned up against one of the wine barrels and looked at his finger nails, “But a soldier turned on her county...” He looked at me and I bristled.
“This was never my county.”
“Oh, of course, you're not one of them. My mistake. The dress is misleading. The green eyes on the other hand--”
I came a step closer and jammed the nose of my gun into his chest. I could hear his heart beating, his breathing quicken just a hair, as if I had moved my pawn where he had not expected and now he was in check. “Start talking, Weasel.”
“I can't think with you so close, it's distracting.”
“Well then,” I put my finger on the trigger and beads of sweat formed on his face.
“Fine! Fine! I'm Arnoldo Renaldi, my father owns this house.”
I let the gun fall a hair, big mistake. He grabbed it out of my hands and shot Mergio through the chest. My partner was dead before he hit the floor. Arnoldo wrapped his arm around my waist, leaning his head on my shoulder and pressing the cold, cold tip of the gun between my shoulder blades. He whispered oh so softly into my ear.
“Now then, sweetie,” he breathed, his tone soft but the edge in his voice made me shiver, “play nice and maybe we'll both get out alive. It’s already too late for him.” He gestured to the body of my fallen comrade.
“Hey!”
I froze in the street. Never ever do you stop when they call. I don’t know why I did, guess I wasn’t thinking.
“It's her!” cried the voice again.
I moved quickly, scaling the old rubble and disappearing over the side, hoping to escape.
“It's Tactic!”
“The Murderer of families!”
“Destroyer of worlds!”
“Kill her!”
I ducked behind a low hanging roof as they stormed past. A sharp gurgled scream rang out and then silence. Who suffered my punishment I never knew. I didn't stick around to find out. After a whispered prayer for the woman who had died in my stead, I made my way off through the once glorious Palace de Nelaria, walking through the piles of shattered glass and skeletons left to rot on the ornate marble floors once cleaned to perfection. I had danced under this floor that night, danced and danced with a gun at my back and a killer on my arm.
“You dance exceptionally.” Arnoldo breathed, his hand once again slipping further down my back as we swirled through the isles by the wine barrels.
“I always dance my best when threatened,” I said, my bare feet scraping against the unfinished dirt floor.
I had lost track of the rows we had gone through, there were hundreds and hundreds of them, all spreading out in a vast pattern under the large dance room. We had long left Mergio, lying dead on the floor surrounded by blood worth more than the oldest Italian wines. Arnoldo came to an abrupt stop in the center of the great maze, his eyes cold as he stared me over, like a hound drooling over a fresh roast. He took the gun from behind me where I had tried to hide it and wrapped his arm around my throat in one fluid motion. With a careless flick of his wrist he sent my last hope flying into the darkness of the maze. He loosened his grip on my neck only slightly, leaving me room to breathe but not to run. He was stronger than me, stronger but not smarter. In one motion he turned me to face him, holding me in a death grip in one hand and undressing me with the other. I waited for that one moment, that one moment when he would be completely off guard, then I slit a knife from my thigh garter and drove it into his heart. He spluttered, his brown eyes fluttered and then burnt out, and he fell rigidly to the cold earth as I escaped.
I moved through the rubble of the wine cellar, retracing my steps until I found the center of the maze again. This was where I killed Arnoldo Renaldi, this was where I started a war.
Pet Treasure
Green Ball Gown
Field Hunting Knife
Common Six-Shooter
Pet Friends
Phaeli
Medical expertise is just what we could use