Here it is, my rewrite of Chapter 1. Enjoy! Humanization may now commence.
Disclamier: I do not own Club Penguin.
Agent Tommy John of the PSA hurried along in the night, peering at his phone, debating what warm, dry sanctuary to head to. He was a younger agent, only three years out of the Academy, but all of his training didn't prepare him for the man in white that ran into him and grabbed his arm. Beside him there was a smaller man, his face in shadow of the hat he wore.
"Take him." The smaller one said.
Agent Tommy John was out before he could even scream. And father away, in her ratty hole of an igloo, Jezebel Swan woke up to the sound of a hammer on a nail. She waited for the footsteps to die away before brushing her pet puffle Rocky off of her and getting dressed.
All of her clothes were years old and years smaller, stretched and patched to the limit. Her shoes were more duct tape than actually shoe, and the short sleeves of her sweater were compensated by strings of woven bracelets of her own creation. But lately, selling bracelets wasn't enough to cover her debts, so she shoved her blonde hair under a knitted hat and started out to go get a job.
On her door several eviction notices were posted, the newest one speared by a sturdy nail. She ripped it off, crumpled it, and threw it onto her neighbor's lawn. She caught the afternoon bus to the Ski Village, and fifteen minutes later, she pushed through the door on the Sport Shop, and a small brass bell tinkled faintly. A man in a lab coat and bottle top glasses was standing behind the counter, talking into a dark blue cell phone. When he spotted Jezzie, he flipped it shut and shoved it quickly into his pocket, without so much as a goodbye.
"Hi, I'm here to see if you have any job-" Jezzie started.
"Oh, yes, yes, what's your name and when can you start?" The man asked hastily, flapping his hands at her.
"Um, Jezebel, but everyone calls me Jezzie-"
"Nice to meet you Miss Jezebel. When can you start?" he interrupted. Jezzie had to take an extra calming breath to keep from retorting.
"Actually, it's Jezzie, and I can start immediately." she said. The man nodded quickly, and propelled her behind the counter.
"Here you are. The answer to everything is "Would you like to take a look at our catalog? I'm sure we can find something to fit your individual needs". Got it? Good. Now, I'm Gary, but you can call me Mr. Guy, and I'll be in back." and with that, he was gone into a room marked in big block letters as the manager's office.
Jezzie set down her things and tapped her fingers rhythmically against the faux granite of the counter. Thinking of nothing else to do, she ducked under the counter to retrieve the newest catalog. There was a sound of a door closing, and then some thudding footsteps.
"G, your cell went dead before I could tell you about-" a deep masculine voice said. Straightening, Jezzie flicked the few short hairs of her bangs out of her eyes to see a broad-shoulder guy with a dark pair of sunglasses and a red hoodie standing in front of the counter. He took one ready step back when he saw that Jezzie wasn't whoever he thought he was talking to. "You're not G!" he said with an air of acusation. Jezzie crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow.
"Sorry to disappoint you. Mr. Guy is in his office." Jezzie said. He met her cold gaze glare for glare. He turned, and walked into the office without knocking. There was a murmur of speech, and then it was achingly quiet again. After about ten minutes of thumbing through the sports catalog, there was a tinkle of someone coming in through the front door. Jezzie looked up, and into the sneering face of a man easily pushing seven feet tall, decked out in a bright white suit.
"Hello." he said, and his hands wrapped around her throat.
Instantly Jezzie's fight or flight instinct kicked in.
And Jezzie was not the girl to run.
She slammed her arms down onto the man's, and they fell. He backed up, surprise written on his face, and Jezzie catapulted the counter. She landed blow after blow of Cardijustu moves, and he made no move to stop her. Panting, she made the mistake of pausing her assault. As easy as you please, he hefted her up on one shoulder, kicking and screaming.
"Let me go!" Jezzie shrieked. The man sneered, feeling in his pocket for a vibrating phone, and dropped her to sprint out of the room. She fell to the floor, where she hit her head painfully on some sports equipment, and went out cold.
She woke up to someone's voice babbling, and a rhythmical beeping. It soon occurred to her that it was linked to her heart, and that she was lying on a bed in Penguin Hospital. Her best friend Mandy was sitting on a chair next to her bed, talking to a nurse.
"I know, it just seems like this room is a little drafty. You know, I good pair of curtains and some access lighting would really-" she was talking at her usual speed- fast.
"Mandy? What happened?" Jezzie asked. Her throat felt like sandpaper, her mouth like she was chewing a handkerchief.
"I can answer that." a doctor said, waltzing over. Mandy straightened and checked her breath. Jezzie had just enough energy to roll her eyes.
"You sustained a slight laceration to your head." he said, pulling out a mirror to show her the huge white bandage wrapped around her head. "nothing too serious, you can go home in a few minutes, if you like." Jezzie couldn't wait to go home. But she had to clear one thing first.
"I was attacked. By this huge guy in white." she said. The doctor smiled, and Jezzie was reminded of how her parents smiled when she told them that she had visited France over the weekend. She was five years old. He assured her that it would be looked into, and Jezzie had to grumble her approval.
She got home later than she expected, a case of leftover pizza in one hand. She picked the new lock and let her self in, not bothering to turn on the light; the electric company hadn't allowed her light for months. Instead she struck a match and lit a few candles, throwing shadows into the dusty corners of her home.
Her black puffle Rockafellow crept up to her and rubbed against her leg. Jezzie poured some puffle-Os into his bowl and poured herself some milk. She took a sip, and poured the rest of it down the rusted drain, it falling out in thin clumps. She gave herself a shake and sat down at her work table, which was strewed with beads and pieces of string, all that was left of her previous job.
She sighed, and rested her head in her hands. Through weary eyes, she looked around her at her home.
There was a small, well-worn couch in one corner that, coupled with a quilt older than her mother, made a bed. There was a simple kitchen and a table, and Rockafellow's dirty white puffle bed. The two small windows were covered in tape to keep the cracks from letting in wind or water, a usefulness that unfortunately her roof didn't have. There was a knock on her spindly door. Jezzie let them knock, knowing just how well what a tax collector would say to her if she opened it. They only knocked harder and faster. Jezzie sighed and dragged herself to the door. When she opened it, a middle-aged man in a suit opened his mouth to speak, dark eyes hidden under silvery hair and a fedora.
Jezzie shut the door.
The knocking started again, sounding like a hammer was being used. Jezzie yanked the door open, and huffed her bangs out of her face. The man was sweating slightly, and kept shooting glances behind him, into the darkness.
"Whaddya want?" Jezzie demanded. "Besides breaking my door?"
"I am Agent Robinson of the PSA." the man said. "And I have an offer to make you, Jezebel Swan." he said, shifting his weight to look inside her house. Completely aware that he expected her to invite him in, Jezzie leaned against the doorframe.
"It's Jezzie, and I don't believe in those old stories about secret agents." she said.
"What if you became one of those agents? Would you believe in them then?" he asked. Jezzie stepped back and was about to shut the door. "There would be money!" Robinson blurted, looking nervous of being left alone outside. Jezzie stepped back onto her porch.
"I'm listening." She said wanly.
So, as you can see, I kept a bit of the original text, but added a bit more to add foreshadowing and conformity and whatnot...