The Morrow Project: Destiny Is Yours

[bobturkee]

Name: Amber Colton

Soft feminine hands with well manicured nails flipped through a dark brown file folder. The pages rattled as she glided through various parts of the document. "Please continue," she said in a soft tone looking across the fluorescent non-descript cinderblock walled room at the man across the table from her. Her hair was a soft strawberry blonde color that hung to the middle of her back when it was not tightly wrapped in a bun and pinned to the back of her head. She had supple, pouty lips that sad on her soft girlish features. Her eyes were ghostly yet comforting; with a vivid blue-gray shine to them anchored by her high set cheek bones. By appearance she was in her mid twenties, but her youthful deception obscured the decade of difference. She looked intently at the man sitting across from her at the table.

"Well. There I was standing on the edge of the cliff and it felt like I couldn't control myself. I couldn't stop myself from jumping."

He was in his mid thirties, white, and bore the scars of a hard life on the street. He wasn’t particularly muscular, but the tattoos on his neck and the look on his face was enough to send chills up your spine without even knowing that he was a serial rapist who had assaulted at least seven women when he was seventeen. He occasionally rolled his tongue across his half-rotted teeth in a gesture that made vomit pool in the back of your mouth for anyone who was unfortunate enough to see.

"Why do you think that is?" she asked.

"I guess I can't control myself. Or at least I feel that way sometimes. Like when I was hurting those women."

"Do you feel that way now?"

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning, are you feeling like you are not in control of yourself or your impulses right now?"

"No the medicine helps.”

She scribbled in her notebook and said, “That’s good. Do you think you would ever not be able to control yourself and commit your crime again?”

“I don’t think so, but…”

“…but what?”

“…sometimes when I am alone…” His eyes raced up and down her blouse at the shape of her breasts and bra. “…sometimes when I am alone Ms. Colton…I think about you…I think about you Amber and I start to touch my…”

She looked up with a spooky gleam in her eyes that almost seemed to glow at the pervert across from her. It seemed to stop him mid-sentence before she even had a chance to say anything. “This is totally inappropriate. I am assigning you a new psychiatrist and I am recommending an increase in the number of session you have each week. I think you still have some issues that therapy could help.”

He snapped out of his trance looking across the table at her like an animal who had not eaten in weeks. “You bitch!” he screamed lunging across the table at her. His chair flipped back as he landed with his knees on the table top.

Amber pushed back from the table edge narrowly missing the swing of his fist as she teetered back on two legs of the chair.

With his missed punch the man found himself off balance and toppled forward onto the floor head first.

Amber rocked back the chair forward pinning the man’s right hand to the ground with the leg of the metal framed chair. She quickly hopped up and placed her high healed shoe on the man’s throat. “Look you pig. I said no.”

“Are you wearing underwear under that skirt?” he asked choking under the trap of her high heal.

She focused on him again, staring him in the eyes, and seeming to hypnotize him momentarily. Then with a twisted little smile she reached behind her back and pulled out a hand held stun gun. “Fucker,” she said reaching down and hitting him with the stun gun for a few seconds. He was unconscious and she was gathering her things to let security deal with him.

As she exited the conference room at the psychiatric center a man in a finely tailored dark suit approached her. “Excuse me. Ms. Colton? Ms. Amber Colton?” Security rushed past them into the room she had just exited from.

“Yes. How can I help you Mr.?” She smiled looking deep into his eyes trying to read him with her special little talent.

‘You’re not strong enough to do that to me,’ echoed in her head in his voice.

He smiled at her, “I’m Joseph Storm. I represent a client who would be very interested in talking with you about a once in a lifetime opportunity for someone of your particular abilities. Would you be interested meeting with my client?”

“When?”

“I have a car waiting outside. We could go right now. It will only take a couple of hours. Your colleague Dr. MacMillan recommended you. He will be there.”

“MacMillan? I haven’t seen him in years. Ok let’s check it out.”

[bobturkee]

Name: Michael Carter

Loose gravel debris crunched under their feet as the five man team crept close to the shadows of the old factory's wall. The subtle squelch of a voice operated microphone indicated that team was in place and ready to go. Pausing in a huddled mass as a corner entry to the compound one of the men pulled a telescoping mirror from his back. Extending the pencil sized diameter tube with the tiny reflective surface at the end, they peered around the corner. In the mirror the reflection of two men with AK-47's walking towards them about forty yards away filled the small viewing area. They patiently waited for the signal.

"Ok team six is in place. Go now!" crackled a voice across the static filled microphones.

The team sprung into action. One of the team members pulled out a small canister pulled the pin and tossed it around the corner and ducked back momentarily. There was a bright flash and a loud bang that seemed to stun the two approaching gunmen. The team quickly followed by scurrying around the corner; however, the third man in the chain tripped and tumbled over the second soldiers feet. He toppled forward, his weapon firing erratically as his fellow team members dove for cover. He finally landed half buried by a backpack that appeared half of his size. He tried to get to his feet, but clutched at his knee.

"Cut, cut, cut!" a man suddenly walks towards the team wearing blue jeans, a t-shirt, and baseball cap. "What is this shit? Are you fucking kidding me? The studio is spending millions of dollars to make this picture and you five idiots can't even shoot a simple scene? Do I need to hire another group of fucking imbeciles to handle this? Carter can you and Johnston get over here and advise these guys on how to be soldiers before I blow?"

A tall, muscular African American male walked across the set as over head stage lights kicked on. He wore black BDU's, combat boots, a utility belt with a few pouches, and a T-shirt that read "Terrorist Hunting License 9-11" with a picture of the twin towers. His hair was peppered with gray and cut in a high and tight wedge. A chewed cigar was pressed between his cheek and his teeth. His two hundred fifteen pound frame crunched as he stomped across the gravel strewn area.

"Look guys what the fuck happened?" he asked moving closer with a smile.

"I tripped over him. And this pack is just so heavy. I couldn't balance myself."

"Look Mr.DiCaprio. I understand. I fell out of the back of a HMMWV one time when we were in Afghanistan." The man reached down helping Leonardo up, "Let's just work through it so that Mr. Brown doesn't have a total shit fit."

"Thanks Carter," DiCaprio replied shaking the pain out of his knee.

"Maybe we could get you guys to tuck in a little closer," Carter began to work on their positioning as the scene was reset by production assistants scrambling around.

Out of sight a small golf cart with the producer, Brian Graizer, a driver, and a non-descript man in a black suit and sun glasses pulled to a stop. The three exited and the director quickly rushed over. The director, producer, and stranger huddled together for a few moments then pointed in the direction of Carter and the other actors. The man in the suit walked over across the set towards Carter. He paused as he approached.

"Michael Carter? Lieutenant Michael Carter Operation Enduring Freedom Iraq 2004, 2005, and 2006. Afghanistan 2001, 2006 and 2007. Somalia 2007. Philippines 2002. Then a bunch of really classified stuff."

Carter looked up from fastening DiCaprio's backpack tighter and said, "You sure do know a lot about me. I didn't catch your name."

"I'm Joseph Storm. I represent a client who would be interested in meeting with you and utilizing your special services. I can assure you that you will be reimbursed generously for your time."

"I don't take private jobs."

"You were recommended by Colonel Edmunds. He is meeting with my client as we speak.."

"If he has Edmunds...what does he need me for? Edmunds is the best."

"Let's just say my client has the need for several people with your special skill sets and ethical fortitude."

"What is he putting together a private army?"

"I think discussion of the details would best be left between yourself and my client." Reaching inside his suit coat he pulls out an airline ticket. "If you are interested here is a ticket. It leaves for Hawaii on Friday for a very special meeting. There will be a car waiting for you at the airport. I hope to see you there."

"Thank you Mr.Storm. I'll take the offer into consideration."

"I think you'll make the right decision."

[bobturkee]

Name: Jolie Malone

"Five...Four...Three...Two...One...Fire."

A cacophony of explosions rang through the building in a tightly timed sequential fashion. Echoing through the downtown city streets the deafening roar of hundred of pounds of explosives sent birds flying for miles. The flash from inside each level of the building could be seen through the hollowed openings that use to house windows. In split seconds thick plumes of dust shot out from the lower floors as upper floors collapsed upon one another. Soon the exterior walls crumbled inward upon themselves once the inner supports were collapsed. In under ten seconds the entire fifteen story building was reduced to a four story pile of rubble. Cheers could be heard roaring from around the neighborhood as residents watched from the rooftops of surrounding buildings and elevated walkways.

Positioned in front of a small bright orange and yellow control panel was a tiny figure. The operator was standing barely five feet six inches tall, wearing dusty worn blue jeans with reinforced leather seat and knees, work boots, a T-shirt, a bright orange leather vest, a hard hat with glasses, and a pair of leather gloves. Suddenly leaping into the air the figure turned around revealing her shapely female form with an accompanying squeal!

"That was so much fun! I still get such a rush every time!"

"That's my little girl!" an older figure standing next to her said as he embraced the excited figure. "You did so good!"

"I learned it from the best!" she replied still squeaky with a true sound of excitement reverberating through her tone.

The tinted window sedan came to a skidding stop just a few feet from the operators control position. A tall, lean man wearing a dark suit, dark sunglasses, and a carrying a briefcase stepped out. He slowly walked, which really seemed more like a glide, towards the control team. "Excuse me are you Jolie Malone?"

"Yes," she said puzzeled.

"Can I help you sir?" her father said stepping up. "I'm Jack Malone of Malone Engineering. What interest do you have in my daughter."

"Sir if you'll give me a moment of your time. I think you'll find that I have an opportunity of a lifetime for someone of your daughter's special abilities. A PhD in Civil Engineering from UC Berkeley 2005 and since then have taken over as Chief Operations Officer for your family company Malone Engineering. Very impressive Ms. Malone. If you would consider meeting with my client this weekend in Hawaii, all expenses paid, I think you will find that his offer is more than favorable and in your particular interests."

"Why me?" she asked.

"Your families work has been used by my client previously on several occasions and they are very pleased with the quality of your work." The man opened the brief case and pulled out an airline ticket. "Please discuss this with your family and I hope that we will see you on the flight this weekend. Thank you for your time Ms. Malone."

The strawberry blonde looked curiously at the ticket in her hand. Her mind raced with several possibilities, but the thought of adventure beckoned her soul. "Guess I'm going to Hawaii this weekend Daddy!"