Keira Knightley Story
Hey everyone, I am new to this site, but I thought I'd post a story I am writing about Keira Knightley. It is based on a most zany dream I once had. Anyone interested in reading it? I could post it or PM it....
You asked for it....here is the first part of the story. It is only loosely based on the dream I had; hopefully, you'll find it interesting. I shall tryr and post more chapters in the upcoming.
A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE UNITED AMERICAN FEDERATION
When looking back through history, it can be evident that governments are formed in many ways. Perhaps the most common way is war, and that was how the UAF came to exist.
Of course, it was not the Big One that put the UAF into power. Oh no, very few people even remember what the Big One was about. They knew that something had happened between United States of America, the Russian Federation, and the People’s Democratic Republic of China, but few knew why that something happened.
All they knew was that one day they woke up dead or with life changed drastically. Perhaps it was a hidden blessing that only neutron bombs had been used against us. Millions died but the infrastructure was left relatively intact.
The Big One left America fallen. With no government and no military, we had been destroyed. Of course, Russia and China were annihilated.
As I stated earlier, it was not the Big One that brought about the UAF. The UAF was formed through another war, a prolonged war. Out of the ashes of death came one man.
This man who would start in Florida and form a militia that would expand along the compass corners. The militia spread as far north as Maine, as far south as Key West, and as far west as the Mississippi River.
Once the militia had spread so far, he began to incorporate remnants of the US military into his organization. He promised a new martial society where intellect would be subservient to brute force. Where love would be subservient to war. Where the will of the military WAS the will of the people. This man was Victor Sparrow.
NOMENCLATURES AND MEANS OF THE MILITARY OF THE UNITED AMERICAN FEDERATION
Although the UAF occupied the territory west of the Mississippi River that once belonged to the United States of America, its similarities to the US were few and far between. Although the UAF had a president, by no means was it a democratic republic.
Victor Sparrow conquered his way to the top. Originally, the UAF had been known as the Independent Militia, with Sparrow as its Revolutionary Commander. By most definitions, Sparrow was a thug. Originally, his militia was an unofficial group of thugs and ex-military men. Then, as it grew in stature and prestige, the IM attracted more viable agents.
Now, at its acme, the UAF controlled all territory west of the Mississippi River and its legal capital is Victory City, the former US capital of Washington in the District of Columbia.
Although he is addressed as President Sparrow, he is much more. One of his official titles is President of the United American Federation, making him the chief executive, head of government, and head of state of the UAF. His second title is Supreme Commander of the Federal Military Council. The FMC oversees all military operations in the UAF and many civilian operations. Sparrow’s third title is Commandant of the UAF Marine Corps, which like the US version, is the crème de la crème of the UAF’s conventional military forces. His fourth title is Chairman of the Federal Bank, making him the controller of virtually the entire UAF economy.
The Federal Military Council is the closest thing the UAF has to a legislature. The FMC is divided into several sub-bodies; the Presidential Council, the Inner Council, and the Outer Council. The Presidential Council is the chief, yet smallest, body of the FMC. It includes the President/Supreme Commander, the Vice President, the Secretary of Defense, the Fieldmarshal of the Federal Armed Forces, the Director-General of the Federal Intelligence Agency, the Chief Commissioner of the Federal Security Forces, and one councilor-at-large appointed by the President. The PC holds complete control over the Federal Armed Forces, the Federal Security Forces, the Federal Intelligence Agency and any other military, security, or intelligence apparatus under UAF control.
The Inner Council is made up of every flag officer of the Federal Armed Forces, the deputy commissioners of the FSF, the deputy directors of the FIA, and all other deputy administrative leaders of any other military, security, or intelligence apparatus under UAF control.
The Outer Council is made up of a given number of staff and non-commissioned officers elected by the entire body of the FAF, FSF, FIA, and all other military, security, and intelligence apparatus under UAF control. Outer Council elections are held every six years.
The Federal Armed Forces is made up of several branches, namely Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine Corps, and Strategic Command (which oversees the use, storage, and defense of all nuclear (both strategic and tactical), biological, and chemical weapons at UAF disposal).
The Federal Security Forces is made up of all federal, state, county, municipal, and other police and security forces in the UAF. Also under the FSF is the Civil Defense Department, which handles all paramilitary and non-governmental militia and security operations within the UAF.
The Federal Intelligence Agency was merely the American CIA renamed. It occupied the same headquarters in Langley, Virginia, and had the same directorates: Intelligence, Operations, Administration, and Science & Technology.
CAUSES OF ANIMOSITY
With the formation and implementation of the FMC, the United American Federation was but another dictatorship with Mr. Sparrow at its nerve center and the FMC as the muscle and sinew. The FMC moved to gain control over the entirety of the UAF’s industrial sector. Every night, members of the FAF and FSF paid visits to the industrialists unlucky enough to live in UAF territory.
The next morning, the Federal New Service, the propaganda and information branch of the UAF government, would report that a new industry had come under the enlightened control of the military. In fact, the FNS was merely a forced conglomeration of the former major new services (Fox, CNN, ABC, NBC, CBS, MSNBC, CNBC, etc.). The one oddity was that the Christian news services, like CBN and TBN, were allowed to remain free of government control.
On the whole, the Christian associations in general faired very well in Sparrow’s government. Men and women of the cloth were exempt from the universal draft that was in effect. They paid no taxes or tributes to their government and were treated with the utmost by even the haughty FAF/FSF.
After attaining political and social legitimacy, the UAF began to implement its goals, the most important of which was “formation of a moral and good society”. To that end, by presidential order, the Council on Moral Affairs was formed. CMA, headed up by a group of the UAF’s top evangelical clergymen, was given the mission of “saving the Federation from sin and immorality”. CMA was granted oversight of the writing of the Federal constitution and all judicial appointments.
CMA’s success could be seen clearly in the constitution, which began, “In the name and glory of the Lord God Jesus Christ, this constitution seeks to ordain and establish a society in the image of our Creator”. The new constitution regularly quoted from the Old and New Testaments of the Holy Bible regarding the basis for its articles and statues. In overseeing judicial appointments (including the Federal Supreme Court), CMA could even overrule the president and deny one of his appointees the bench. This made CMA singular in that power to check the dictator Sparrow.
Almost immediately, the Federal Supreme Court began overturning previous US laws. Homosexual marriage was banned, abortion declared a capital offense, and strict censorship put into place of all UAF media and entertainment.
In order to back up its edicts, CMA petitioned President Sparrow and the FMC for permission to form a militant branch. Of course, their wish was immediately granted and the Brigade des Vierges (French for the “Brigade of Virgins”) was born. Unlike all other police and paramilitary forces, the BV did not answer to the FMC or even to President Sparrow; instead, they answered the ruling clergymen of CMA.
The Brigade des Vierges, much like Robespierre’s ‘Representatives on a Mission’, were given assignment of controlling and eliminating immorality. They were given the best weapons and full license to kill. In their purist white uniforms, the Brigade des Vierges inspired more fear in the citizenry of the UAF than any other enforcement agency.
The BV raided adult ‘toy’ stores, brothels, nude dancing parlors, illicit casinos, and many of the more popular homosexual bars. Carrying M-16s and wearing white jackboots, BV soldiers and officers would rush in, firing into the ceiling and, after the endroit de l’immoralité was cleared out, they then burned the building to the ground. Very quickly, word spread among the deviants and personnes immorales of the new great society that the BV was not to be trifled with.
As with all great plans and programs, there was a violent backlash to it. By hunting the personnes immorales and destroying their operations, the BV had made many enemies. From anarchists to communists, atheists to Satanists, radical liberals to reactionary fascists, heterosexual ‘ladies men’ to butch homosexuals; they all hated the moralistic Brigade des Vierges and its parent, the Council on Moral Affairs, with an extreme passion.
Amazingly, these different deviant groups agreed to put aside their differences and battle the Brigade des Vierges. To an outside observer, it would have seemed insane, but these personnes immorales formed an alliance de but against the BV and CMA.
Although to most citizens, the UAF was peaceful and safe, in reality, it was a war zone. In the diminishing red light districts, BV and deviants faced off. Regularly, homemade bombs were detonated and drive-by shootings against patrolling BV agents occurred.
Slowly, but surely, this war became more public. Street battles became fairly regular, even in Victory City. Deviant forces would hide out and ambush UAF forces (even conventional FAF/FSF units). Although bloody and violent, these battles did little to stave the spread of morality, for everyday, the Brigade des Vierges recruited young men and women to fight for the ‘cause’.
The BV began infiltrating this alliance des deviants. After all, how hard is it for a person to pretend to be a homosexual or a Satanist or a fasciste? The more feminine males and masculine females paraded as homosexuals, anyone can tattoo a pentagram on their arm, and the more Aryan of the BV agents paraded as fascists.
These infiltrators made their way to the top, alerting BV and CMA command, which then raided the safehouses and compounds. The infiltrations were having their desired effect and the alliance des deviants was being broken up, but they were not yet gone.
Now, the last of these remaining personnes immorales came to a decision: the only way to stop CMA and the Brigade des Vierges was to kill the snake’s head, not its fangs. President Victor Sparrow, the father of modern morality, and only 24-years-old, had to die.
CAUSES OF CONFLICT
The threat to President Matthew Sparrow’s life would be of minimal concern to most people not connected to the UAF government. In fact, outside its own borders, this would be a minor issue. After all, most countries have homegrown terrorist groups to deal with, the UAF should be no different.
In order to understand the importance of the plot to kill Sparrow, one must first look at the Federation’s neighbors west of the Mississippi River, the Republic of Hollywood. In most respects, the ROH is a polar opposite to the UAF. While morality is stress here, freedom of thought and expression are stressed there. Although both countries have a standing army, the UAF is by any definition much more militant. Although a president leads both countries, only Hollywood is a democracy.
As of this point in time, veteran actor Johnny Depp leads Hollywood. From the beginning of diplomatic relations between Hollywood and the Federation, they did not get along. Sparrow, being militarily superior to Depp, sough to bark out orders at Hollywood as though it were a puppet state. To his credit, Johnny Depp stood up to Sparrow’s dictums. A few months later, after cooler heads had prevailed, Hollywood and the Federation began restart a diplomatic process. Only a couple weeks ago, the Sparrow-Depp Accords (called the Depp-Sparrow Accords in Hollywood) were signed. In it, a lasting treaty for peace was ratified.
Now, only weeks after this groundbreaking treaty, massive tourism between the Federation and Hollywood has initiated. Most of those visiting there opposite country were the standard middle-class ‘Joe Six-Pack’, but a few high level UAF and ROH dignitaries visited each other’s countries.
Perhaps the two most important people to tour the UAF were junior actresses Keira Knightley and Natalie Portman. Their actions, especially Knightley’s, would have a drastic effect upon the very existence of the Federation and its leaders- not to mention their own lives.
CHAPTER ONE: THE PRESIDENTIAL MOTORCADE
The meeting ran dreadfully late and so all the upper-echelons of the UAF were in a rush to get back to their estates in the countryside outside of Victory City. Only President Sparrow had his home in VC.
Outside, it was a gorgeous day, the sun shining, reflecting off puddles from last night’s thundershower. Up and down the sidewalks, people went about their business, most walking towards a subway entrance, waiting for a bus, or even hailing a cab. Because of the massive population in the capital, private automobiles were in minimal use.
Therefore, the mass of unmarked luxury automobiles in front of the upscale condominium complex in downtown VC would have been most odd, except for the fact that these were the conveyances of Sparrow’s top ranks. There were several Lincolns, a Mercedes limousine used by the Vice President, several Chevy Suburbans, and even a Rolls-Royce saloon used by Fieldmarshal Erwin Schroedinger.
The condominium complex was equally as opulent. It was red brick with numerous colonial-style windows dotting each floor in a strict linear pattern. A small set of marble steps led up to the canopied entrance and behind the entrance, in the ornate and large marble and oak-paneled lobby, numerous Uzi toting bodyguards patrolled the floor. The elevators required a special key for use.
It was these elevators whose doors opened and disgorged a luxuriant set of men in Brooks Brothers and Harrington Hill suits, striding with purpose to the French door entrance.
Once outside, a goodly number of tuxedoed ushers opened the rear doors of the vehicles, letting these great and proud leaders of the UAF board their rides. Of course, President Matthew Sparrow was not among them.
Sparrow, still in his top floor penthouse condo, gazed out the floor-to-ceiling Washingtonian windows, smiling as his lieges left the area. When he had first visited the then US capital some ten years ago, he had been enthralled by the gracefulness and tamed beauty that was then Washington, D. C.
Now, at age 24, Sparrow was the chieftain of this entire area, nay, everything on his side of the Mississippi. This penthouse had been his home ever since marching victoriously into this city and down Pennsylvania Avenue at the head of his armies.
From these windows, he could the Washington Monument, the Capitol, and even the White House, all glorious debris of a now dead America. Oh yes, tours were still given and people still gazed on Washington’s picture, the one saved by Mrs. Madison, in the White House. They still took the manned elevator up to the acme of the Monument and they still traversed the grand halls of Capitol Hill.
Down below, the presidential motorcade pulled up to the steps of the antique, yet still grand, condominium complex. For a president, this convoy was quite simple. At the head were a pair of police motorcycles (their flashers on), behind the cycles was a brand-new Volvo luxury sedan (heavily armored of course), and behind the sedan was a Secret Service Chevrolet Suburban, containing, besides the driver, five heavily armed members of the Presidential Guard, the most elite of the Federal Secret Service, a subsidiary itself of the FSF.
As Sparrow, escorted by his aide de camp, headed downstairs and outside towards the waiting motorcade, he could not have known how drastically the countenance of his day would soon change.
CHAPTER TWO: LE HÉROS FÉMININ
Several blocks along from the presidential condominium, a crowd had gathered, waiting behind metal barrier, waving multi-colored autograph books in the air and vying for a forward position. It was tradition that each afternoon, as the presidential motorcade whisked Sparrow from his condominium to his sundry evening activities, he would stop and sign autographs, shake hands, and kiss babies. Of course, his security forces hated it, for it left him most vulnerable.
Walking up the street, nonchalantly approaching this crowd, the two visitors from Hollywood chatted about their day. Ever since arriving in VC several days earlier, Keira Knightley and Natalie Portman had played tourist. Some days they explored the grand capital together; other times they went their separate paths.
So far, their trip had gone without reproach, except for that one time when Knightley, wearing a T-shirt (exposing her midriff) and mini-shorts had gotten fined 100 dollars by a CMA officer.
Today, Keira wore an informal light blue dress that accentuated her figure without violating the Federation’s national dress code policy. Portman, on the other hand, wore a white button down shirt and gray slacks, looking like a low-level executive for one of these random firms that you didn’t quite know what they actually did.
So far, despite being in the capital, neither young actress had run across any VIPs, unless you consider that damned CMA officer in important person, because he sure acted like it. He spoke haughtily down the Knightley as he wrote the ticket and then shoved it against Knightley and stomped away.
They quickened their pace, smiling slightly at the prospect of meeting Depp’s opposite number. In Hollywood, a lot had been heard about the new president. They joked he had the morals of Bush, the intellect of Kerry, and the sociality of Edwards. Of course, many others just said he was a dick.
The smallish presidential motorcade pulled down the street, stopping in its middle with no care for flow of traffic. In the crowd, the waving became more incessant and several people shouted for attention. The vast majority recognized the decorum of a presidential arrival and just assumed that the screamers were nothing but impudent tourists who thought Sparrow the Federal version of a movie star or a superhero.
The two women pushed their way forward without much hassle. After all, most men were more than willing to allow the extremely hot women to brush against them. Pretty quickly, they were at the front, Keira looking just a bit too happy to be seeing a supposed cold enemy.
By now, the president was out of the Volvo and approaching the crowd calmly. Three bodyguards had climbed out of the Suburban and, as always, Sparrow’s ADC remained at his side.
Analysts in Hollywood had wondered why Sparrow was so popular in his territories. To many ROHers, President Sparrow was a dictator by any other name who used the pursuit of unattainable morality as an excuse to brutalize a good portion of his citizenry, but to Keira Knightley, relatively low on the Hollywood totem pole, Sparrow exuded power, yet he did not appear brutal or mean. In fact, his face had the solemn smile you would expect from a parish priest or your family doctor.
He approached an unseen person several feet to Keira’s left; the crowd parted slightly and she noticed that Sparrow was giving attention to the proverbial blue-haired old lady, either a septa- or octogenarian. The lady appeared frail, leaning forward against a metal walker.
The president, towering over the retiree, shook her hand gently and then signed her brown autograph book. They spoke in small voices for a few seconds and then Sparrow congenially patted her on the shoulder.
He continued down the line, shaking hands and signing the autographs, always writing personalized messages and saying the right thing at the right time, yet he didn’t seem insincere. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he stood in front of Keira Knightley, who was being jostled slightly by the loyal subjects behind her.
As Sparrow held out his hand, she suddenly realized she had nothing for the president. Everyone else was waving small blank books in his face, nearly begging for his attention.
CHAPTER TWO (CONTINUED)
Keira searched her pockets for something for the president to sign, but it was all a moot point. A sharp whistle-hiss sound filled the air and eyes looked up in time to see a supersonic tailed lozenge slam the rear Suburban’s side. Instantly, an explosion filled the air and the large SUV was tossed into the air and pitched into the ground like child’s Matchbox toy car. Many people, including Knightley, were knocked down by the shockwave.
A distant, yet quickly closing, voice boomed, “HEIL HITLER! TÖTEN SIE DEN PRÄSIDENTEN!”
Rapid-fire gunshots sounded and two of Sparrow’s scrambling bodyguards were cut down. The third bodyguard, slightly staggered from the explosion, shoved Sparrow to the ground beside the slightly scorched sedan.
With the explosion and the gunshots, Sparrow’s oh so loyal supporters, even the gentile elderly lady, were moving as fast as they could from the scene.
Righting herself quickly, Keira saw that her dear friend Natalie was with this fleeing crowd; in her case, yelling, “Keira, come on!” She saw the third, and only living, bodyguard bringing his M4 carbine up to fire, but he too was cut down, expunged blood spatter Knightley as he fell.
Sparrow, his face showing terror, was moving backwards quickly, assuming his death was upon him. The two motorcycle cops were dead and so was his driver. Keira, stunned by all the blood and violence, looked at the once proud president. Whatever kind of man and leader he was, Sparrow didn’t deserve to get gunned down by a bunch of fasciste thugs.
Without giving it another thought, Keira, moving quickly, climbed over the steel barrier and seized the dead bodyguard’s assault rifle. The nearest thug rounded the smoldering hulk of the Suburban, his Ingram MAC-10 at the ready.
She squeezed the trigger and split second before he did and the enemy did a macabre dance that ended with him plastered to the roadway. A second terrorist followed the first, but he fared no better.
Sirens rang in the distance and no more terrorist gunfire. Keira Knightley, almost in shock from killing two mortal enemies, turned and looked at President Sparrow, who now seemed almost boisterous, “I don’t know who you are, but you’ll get a medal for this. Anything you want…”
A flaring of his eyes cut him off and Keira looked in the direction Sparrow was staring, a third neo-Nazi (the one who had manned the rocket launcher) had snuck around the dead Suburban and now held a World War II-era Luger P-08 pistol, “Auf Wiedersehen.”
Staring at the raised pistol and manic eyes, Keira Knightley did something that she never in a million years thought she’d be called on to do. The thug’s finger closed around the trigger and he smiled smugly. In milliseconds, her brain told her that even if she got off a shot, the enemy would still get President Sparrow.
She leapt to the side, her body shielding the president as the trigger was pulled. The bullet entered Knightley’s chest area but glanced off a rib, shattering it. She fell to the ground, choked tears of pain glistening in her eyes and slipping down her cheeks.
The terrorist pulled the trigger again and again, but the old Luger had jammed. That was the fatal flaw to the German gun, its firing pin and ejector were designed such that it could jam often.
He slammed his palm against the top of the Luger, trying to un-jam it. In that time, in one fell move, Sparrow reached down and grabbed the M4 out of Keira’s arms and lifted it, looking in the fasciste’s eyes as he pulled the trigger and a rapid stream of bullets slammed his body to the ground. The Luger flew from his hands and clattered onto the pavement.
By now, the sirens were very near and VCPD patrol cars zoomed up to the scene, officers shouting into their radios for assistance. Ambulances and fire trucks were already en route.
It was over.
CHAPTER THREE: PRESIDENTIAL THANKS
“Good evening ladies and gentleman, this is Amy Peters reporting live for the Federal News Network. We have late breaking news on this hour. Fascist terrorists have attacked President Matthew Harrington Sparrow, our glorious leader. Already, security forces are rounding up and interrogating every former and current member of any Neo-Nazi organizations.
“The assassination attempt was thwarted due to the brave actions of Keira Knightley, an actress from the Republic of Hollywood. Already, rumors are spreading that President Sparrow will award her the Presidential Commendation for Actions of Supreme Bravery and Honor, the highest award a civilian can receive for meritorious valor in combat…”
Keira Knightley, her chest throbbing, flicked the television off with the remote control and sat up in her hospital bed. She should have been excited about the award, but she wasn’t. The doctors had given her heavy painkillers for her chest wound, after emergency surgery the bullet of course, but every few minutes a sharp jolt of pain overrode them and bit her lip not to scream. Even now, she had no shirt on; instead, a bandage had been wrapped around her breasts, but below her armpits, to keep the wounded part of her body immobile.
Currently, she occupied a VIP room in the Hôpital Fédéral De Conduite, one of the UAF’s top medical centers, available to only the upper echelons of the Federation. Her room was painted a calming light blue color and several vases of fresh flowers were delicately set in opportune places. The sheets in her bed were silken and the television she had been watching had been one of those brand-new plasmas. She had been told that a pair of FSF agents stood guard outside the room.
The solid oak door opened and, expecting a doctor or nurse, Keira was surprised when her dear friend Natalie Portman entered, the worried look on her face dissipating as she saw that her friend was relatively okay.
Cutting right to the chase, she said, “Keira, what on earth were you thinking? Taking a bullet in the chest for him? You could’ve been killed!”
Knightley sighed loudly, trying to hold tears back, “Well what was I supposed to do? They were going to kill him! I don’t care what they say about him, he didn’t deserve to die like that!”
Realizing that maybe she had been too harsh, Natalie sat down on the edge of the bed next to Keira, “I’m sorry, its just I was afraid you might be killed. As it stands, you may be here for quite awhile, waiting for that wound to heal.”
Keira nodded, “I know, I know. I wonder if…”
Natalie looked sharply at her friend, “If what?”
“Well, the president owes me his life, doesn’t he?”
Upon seeing the slightly mischievous glint in her eyes, Natalie glared at Knightley, “Don’t even think about it? He’s a damn president, not some college playboy.”
“He is nineteen, isn’t he? Well…”
“Forget about the whole thing. The last thing I need is for you to start an international incident…”
Keira made the typically indignant harrumph noise, “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, dear, that if you ask President Sparrow out on a date, first, he’ll bill you in full for this hospital stay, and second, he’ll boot our asses right of the country. Finally, he’ll send a condemnation to Depp for the perversity of his representatives. Therefore, keep your eyes off the president or anyone in his staff.”
Another harrumph and then, “Fine, whatever you say.”
“I mean it Keira…”
Knightley had every intention of asking Sparrow out, after all, he owed her and she had no use for Federal moneys or ranks or rewards.
((SORRY I POSTED MULTIPLE TIMES, BUT THE SITE ONLY ALLOWS 10000 CHARACTERS PER POST))
i think you need to get out more
What is that supposed to mean? I am a writer...that is my hobby.
Wrong forum section. Will read it as soon as I have my shower. And you need to correct your grammar Jazz.
Edit: Finally finished reading it, bit long winded at the start, but interesting story if a bit strange...
That would most likely be The Gallery
Ok, to be entirely honest (as you all know me to be!), I can't be arsed reading it. I will do, when I have some more time on my hands but I'm concerned that it might not be worth the effort. Not that I think it won't be good, just that I'll be pissed off if I spend a load of time on it, and it's not so good. To be honest, via scanning through it, a story consisting of American Congress and KK doesn't really appeal to me. Though I promise I'll give it a go when I have the time. In the mean time, well done for sticking to it and writing it. :) It takes a lot of dedication - I know, because I write too. Promise I'll read it when I get chance. :)
EDIT: Plus, I despise fanfiction (sorry, I know there are a few FF authors on here. Which is why the inclusion of KK in the story isn't really luring me in...)
lol, you cant be arsed with much can you HJ!!
i agree though, fan fiction bores the crap out of me too. i bet its a good story, and im sure you put a lot of effort into it, its just the characters never reflect what i expect. my mate wrote a half life fan fiction, and after the first chapter i was bored becuase it just wasnt the kind of thing you would see gordan doing.
Seriously guys, don't post if you haven't bothered reading it. Its not just a spamming thread because someone was willing to type up 4 posts worth of fan-fiction.
I dont think Keira has the personality of a gun-toting soldier... how about making her a silent assasin like alias?
The writing style is really good though. Well-written, it would just appeal to an older crowd because of the material youre talking about. Post cold-war treaties and such are boring to a younger audience.
i think your dream was very intresting
I think you should stop bumping really old threads.
Naxoshtren Qsaya Hata Esta Xendetmawa
That Means It Was A Good Story!!!!
shutta theah fuckuppa
That Means Stop Posting Crap!!!!
(couldn't resist sorry)
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