05-09-2007, 10:40 PM
Bam. A blue fist slammed against the redwood desk with moderate force?enough to catch the attention of the teenager on the opposite side, who was turned around playing with his face.
?Oh shit!? The boy was startled, and almost collapsed, chair and all. He turned around. His face was diseased with blemishes from his forehead to his chin. His hair was a golden-boy blond color and his eyes were hazel; dark green at the time, due to the season. His skin was a light vanilla color of gentle tone. ?Can I help you?? he asked, ignoring the shocking color of the man on the other side of the expensive desk.
?I?m signing up.?
?All right, well let me get in this computer. . .? He placed a open palm on the keyboard to the computer he was provided with. His hand gently glided across the keyboard in great elegance as he opened the program that kept information on the people signing up. ?Name??
?Gokua,? the warrior replied with an emotionless, deep voice.
The boy typed in the name easily. ?Now, may I get your age sir??
?Why is that important??
?It?s strictly for statistics,? he quickly replied, almost cutting the blue swordsman off. ?So. . . age??
?I?ll decline.?
?Okay. . . height? Weight?? He had one hand on the keyboard and the other on the redwood desk. He snorted, as if he had a cold, but he didn?t; his mucus was dry. The snort was violent, and pulled the snot to the midpoint of his sinuses, almost clogging them. Gokua was disgusted. ?So, can I get this information?? he asked; his voice altered from the snort, like someone that tried to talk without using their tongue.
?Height?? Gokua looked at his sculpted physique. ?Five eleven, one hundred and eighty pounds.?
The teenager?s hand glided across the keyboard again. It was beginning to agitate the swordsman. Those scrawny fingers rapidly pressing each key, like someone repeatedly dropping pens onto a naked table.
?Were those also for statistics??
?Of course not. They?re for everyone to know, silly,? the tenant replied as he opened up one of the drawers, slipping his hand in and pulling out a camera. It was an expensive camera, evident by the name CANON on the side. ?Now, I need to take some pictures of you.?
Gokua said nothing. He simply stood still.
The teenager brought the camera to his face and placed his finger on the button at the top. A moment passed. The teenager then snapped a picture of the alien. And another. And another.
?All right, that?s done,? the teenager said as he placed the camera back into its rightful drawer. ?Now, lastly,? he said, ?I need a sample of your fighting abilities.?
The alien arched a brow. ?Seriously??
?Seriously.?
Gokua glanced at the wall to his right; inches away from him. ?Okay.? Abruptly, he slammed his right fist into the wall. The fortifications structured within the wall?to protect the public from bombs?crumbled. His fist was implanted in the wall. The unique olive and beige dandelion style wallpaper was ruined. ?That enough??
The teenager was speechless, untrained for such a reaction. He did not know what to do, so he elected to do nothing. A good choice. He stayed put and simply continued the process he had been instructed to proceed with weeks beforehand.
?All right, that is it, Mr. Gokua.? That irritating sound caused by his violent snorting was still hovering over his voice. ?Oh yeah, before I forget,? he mentioned, ?Only forty-four people are going to be permitted to compete in this competition, so you?re not guaranteed to be placed on the island.?
?Okay. That it??
?Yes, Gokua sir.? He turned his chair around and got up. ?Please, allow me to direct you towards the tele-tubes, which will safely transfer you to the waiting bay.? The boy walked over to the left side of the room, where twenty or so doors were immediately side-by-side. Gokua followed. The teenager walked over to number 17. ?Please, enter here.? The double-doors electronically opened?not inward nor outward, but into the doorway itself?and the swordsman walked in. ?Oh, before I forget, you cannot bring that weapon with you.?
?. . . What??
?Sorry, but that?s a rule. Please hand it over.? He outstretched his fragile vanilla-skinned hand.
?Fine.? Though reluctantly, he unsheathed his rapier and handed it over. ?See you later Dictator. ?
?The sheath. . .?
?I?m keeping it.?
?Okay, your choice.?
The doors swiftly shut, and he was sent to the waiting bay, with greater speed than a fresh Ferrari.
-----------------------------
OOC: Really didn't plan to make it this long. My apologies.
?Oh shit!? The boy was startled, and almost collapsed, chair and all. He turned around. His face was diseased with blemishes from his forehead to his chin. His hair was a golden-boy blond color and his eyes were hazel; dark green at the time, due to the season. His skin was a light vanilla color of gentle tone. ?Can I help you?? he asked, ignoring the shocking color of the man on the other side of the expensive desk.
?I?m signing up.?
?All right, well let me get in this computer. . .? He placed a open palm on the keyboard to the computer he was provided with. His hand gently glided across the keyboard in great elegance as he opened the program that kept information on the people signing up. ?Name??
?Gokua,? the warrior replied with an emotionless, deep voice.
The boy typed in the name easily. ?Now, may I get your age sir??
?Why is that important??
?It?s strictly for statistics,? he quickly replied, almost cutting the blue swordsman off. ?So. . . age??
?I?ll decline.?
?Okay. . . height? Weight?? He had one hand on the keyboard and the other on the redwood desk. He snorted, as if he had a cold, but he didn?t; his mucus was dry. The snort was violent, and pulled the snot to the midpoint of his sinuses, almost clogging them. Gokua was disgusted. ?So, can I get this information?? he asked; his voice altered from the snort, like someone that tried to talk without using their tongue.
?Height?? Gokua looked at his sculpted physique. ?Five eleven, one hundred and eighty pounds.?
The teenager?s hand glided across the keyboard again. It was beginning to agitate the swordsman. Those scrawny fingers rapidly pressing each key, like someone repeatedly dropping pens onto a naked table.
?Were those also for statistics??
?Of course not. They?re for everyone to know, silly,? the tenant replied as he opened up one of the drawers, slipping his hand in and pulling out a camera. It was an expensive camera, evident by the name CANON on the side. ?Now, I need to take some pictures of you.?
Gokua said nothing. He simply stood still.
The teenager brought the camera to his face and placed his finger on the button at the top. A moment passed. The teenager then snapped a picture of the alien. And another. And another.
?All right, that?s done,? the teenager said as he placed the camera back into its rightful drawer. ?Now, lastly,? he said, ?I need a sample of your fighting abilities.?
The alien arched a brow. ?Seriously??
?Seriously.?
Gokua glanced at the wall to his right; inches away from him. ?Okay.? Abruptly, he slammed his right fist into the wall. The fortifications structured within the wall?to protect the public from bombs?crumbled. His fist was implanted in the wall. The unique olive and beige dandelion style wallpaper was ruined. ?That enough??
The teenager was speechless, untrained for such a reaction. He did not know what to do, so he elected to do nothing. A good choice. He stayed put and simply continued the process he had been instructed to proceed with weeks beforehand.
?All right, that is it, Mr. Gokua.? That irritating sound caused by his violent snorting was still hovering over his voice. ?Oh yeah, before I forget,? he mentioned, ?Only forty-four people are going to be permitted to compete in this competition, so you?re not guaranteed to be placed on the island.?
?Okay. That it??
?Yes, Gokua sir.? He turned his chair around and got up. ?Please, allow me to direct you towards the tele-tubes, which will safely transfer you to the waiting bay.? The boy walked over to the left side of the room, where twenty or so doors were immediately side-by-side. Gokua followed. The teenager walked over to number 17. ?Please, enter here.? The double-doors electronically opened?not inward nor outward, but into the doorway itself?and the swordsman walked in. ?Oh, before I forget, you cannot bring that weapon with you.?
?. . . What??
?Sorry, but that?s a rule. Please hand it over.? He outstretched his fragile vanilla-skinned hand.
?Fine.? Though reluctantly, he unsheathed his rapier and handed it over. ?See you later Dictator. ?
?The sheath. . .?
?I?m keeping it.?
?Okay, your choice.?
The doors swiftly shut, and he was sent to the waiting bay, with greater speed than a fresh Ferrari.
-----------------------------
OOC: Really didn't plan to make it this long. My apologies.
![[Image: 1stAerosig.png]](http://i137.photobucket.com/albums/q218/Aerogfx/sigs/1stAerosig.png)
Placed 3rd in Dante's Abyss 08