Author: Celtic-Memories PM
During the time Wesley Gibson was being recruited by the FRATERNITY there was a woman in the sidelines just as powerful and dangerous: ANNIE. Only she didn't know it until later when she enters Wesley's story and his and her life change forever.Rated: Fiction T - English - Adventure/Romance - Chapters: 5 - Words: 11,512 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 7 - Follows: 7 - Updated: 08-05-12 - Published: 09-06-11 - id: 7361105
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
NOTE: This is my first attempt at making a fanfiction for any movie that doesn't involve a series. I DO NOT OWN any of Wanted characters which goes directly to the creator of the original comic. I do, however, own my original characters gradually presented in the story. Have fun reading and please review. Be honest and precise.
Sept 14: I've redone the dream scenes in italics and rephrased it to provide more clarity. Hopefully it worked. Thanks for the input iplaythefish. Anyways enjoy my stories and I'll try not to put too many authors notes to distract from the story.
Introduction: A Typical Day for Ms. Obedient.
"Pardon me," a frail whisper was barely heard amongst the eager, ongoing bustle of New York City.
"Pardon me," another whisper.
"Pardon, pardon me..." Repeated again and yet again.
My voice was strong but I whispered ever so softly. I have a habit of being apologetic in every situation, even when I'm not at fault. Someone bumped me in the crowd, making the quad coffees I ordered for my boss, my boss's assistant, and his assistant, and that assistant's secretary, spill on my plain blue business blouse. That was the most coffee I would ever get, a big ink blot splash across my front. Coffee was never my friend. The one time I drank it all I remember are spikes of insanity and overabundance of joy that I immediately henceforth severed coffee from my mouth. I winced from the pain of the hot drink on my chest, but not before habitually uttering 'Pardon me,' under my breath and running across the street as the neon sign signaled WALK. I never walked. No time.
Every day was the same, and even the weekends when I was off work, somehow my days magically presented itself in the 'Same' category. Sleep was the same as well.
My nightmares were endless:
I'm going through my old belongings, cardboard boxes duct taped on the sides and bottoms. I look through them and find dozens of photographs with a picture of me in my broad rimmed bifocals, scrawly hair do, and light blue business blouse, holding up the camera to the mirror in my apartment bathroom with a cheesy grin that said 'Congratulations on your new promotion, while I'm stuck in the dump, bitch.' I gasp in horror and shut the boxes.
Then I would wake up. Another reoccurring nightmare:
I walk down a corridor in the company I work in, Estee Lauder Inc. It's dark, all the doors have light seeping through the cracks. My urge to open them is great, and so I do. I open the first door and all my employees yell out 'Surprise' as a blinding light makes me squint my eyes. When my eyes adjust I see my cubicle, empty, with one message written on the monitor.
'DYKE DIANA CARMICHAEL!'
I immediately start hyperventilating, and hoping for a better scene I run from the horrendeous sight and advance towards the other doors. I open up another door but no! My high hopes are shattered as the same scene repeats itself over, and over, and over again.
...Until finally I woke up in a hot sweat while my apartment was only 60 degrees due to not being able to afford heat. I would wrap the cheap covers around me and try to shiver myself to sleep, though my eyes would stay wide open and explore the lights outside my curtainless window. The chattering of my teeth would be a lonesome pounding sound like an avalanche waiting to crash into my skull. After a short while my teeth would slowly cease their dying struggle to make my jaw cave in from pain. Then I would lay awake for hours, asking myself a series of questions, questions I would never hear in interviews, or street bars, or those parties I never get a chance to participate in except on New Years due to half the interns taking a vacation to Switzerland or Paris. Lucky them.
When I finally did go to sleep it was almost time to wake up. I set my alarm to ring three times, once at 6am, another at 6:30, and the last at 6:45. Every morning I miss all three alarms. The worst feeling is waking up at half past 7 knowing you have to pick up the boss's triple splenda decaf, the assistant's mocha, and the other two's artificial hazelnut cream with 1/4 cup sugar each, and all at 3 different coffee shops! How many coffee shops can there be in Midtown Manhattan? I was devastated. But it was their bodies to ruin and hack to pieces with invisible chemical needles of pain, and my continuous pain that assured it. I was just the messenger, or rather the deliverer. Don't shoot me!
So... this morning was the same as last morning, and it was happening to the SAME people. The huge city clock was 3 minutes before 8 and I was still running across the streets, about 1/4 mile from the office building for Estee Lauder. As I neared the cubist sheer glass building I let out my usual sigh, the rumbling breath before a huge headache and meltdown that I had to suck into my stomach and devour whole before it ate instead. I felt the clock struck 8 as I ran in the door, bumping into two more people on the way and uttering two more 'Pardon Me's' before jumping into the elevator and rapidly pressing floor 37. I was in for several 10 minute cursing that day, one for being late AGAIN, two for spilling half the coffee on the floor, three for shaking the coffee excessively causing it too cool to body temperature in mere seconds, four for displaying a self-neglectful stature to the entire department due to the little coffee accidents, and God, I forget the rest of the many reasons but they are at the tip of my tongue. I knew why I was never fired. Despite my 'laziness, tardiness, and slumpy attire' I was RELIABLE. For heaven's sakes I never miss an order! I am Ms. Obedient! I ride 1st class on Obedient Amtrak.
I lean against the back of the elevator, heaving in and out crazily, trying to calm down and make my flushed cheeks pale before presenting myself to my employees. It was useless however. It always was. I wake up frizzy and exhausted, arrive at work frizzy, exhausted and messy, and leave work frizzy, exhausted, messy, and copped out. Mess. Frizzy Obedient. No change. Plenty of pain. No gain. An endless cycle of dizzy New York City. Shall we start over again tomorrow?
Because the elevator did something funny today. And I forgot my laughing pills.