Sway earned this trip. (He didn't.) He didn't miss much about the shitty world he left, but shaking his tits in darkness with complete strangers, fuck... this was living.
"Hey, man...!" Disco says, greeting the other a bit too excitedly for someone he barely knew. (He may have been on a cocktail of substances at this point in the night.) "Fuck, I miss dancing, c'mere—" he says, pulling them in close as though they were old friends. "Don't you love dancing...?!"
The Boogeyman was out on the prowl and lurking for some entertainment. His hunger needed to be satisfied fast, before he had everyone daydreaming about their worst fears. He slowly made his way in and saw the latest, sexy young thing. And his dark eyes instantly lit up.
His reputation did precede him. After fifteen years in PANDORA, he was a fiend and demon when he wanted to be. "Oh me? I love everything about dancing... It's almost like being free… unimaginative rhythms, joy, and harmony..." His hand trailed around the other's waist... while he eyed the target he wanted. He looked down at his friend and decided to toy with him for now. "What's better than dancing is dreaming... what's your greatest dream?" He asked softly, moving his body to the rhythm of Disco's.
Agent: Roulette
Real Name: Blayne Sorrento
Age: 32
Birth Place: Poughkeepsie, New York
Occupation: Former IRS Employee [Redacted]
Division: Wrath
Years of Service: 0 Years.
Powers: Probability Manipulation/Alteration
Debrief: Interview with Blayne Sorrento
As of November 11th, 2023. 05:33 am
P.A.N.D.O.R.A. INTAKE DEBRIEF
SUBJECT: Blayne Sorrento
DESIGNATION: Virtue Agent
GIFT: PROBABILITY MANIPULATION
CLEARANCE: REDACTED
Subject exhibits signs of deep-seated trauma, most likely stemming from the unsolved disappearance of his twin brother, Shayne Sorrento ( Division: Lust). Emotional volatility is present, though well-contained beneath a veneer of cold pragmatism. Displays obsessive tendencies when pursuing personal leads—particularly anything tangentially related to sibling disappearance.
Subject spent nearly a decade executing unsanctioned infiltration operations across seven national borders. Targets included private militaries, corporate black sites, and ghost-state intelligence bunkers. Repeated engagements against vastly superior numbers resulted in zero fatalities on the subject's end and minimal forensic trace, suggesting early, unrefined manifestation of the probability manipulation gift—operating pre-serum.
Despite multiple global agencies flagging him as a Class-S rogue operative, no agency successfully detained or neutralized the subject. Instead, P.A.N.D.O.R.A. agents were dispatched to neutralize or recruit. The subject voluntarily surrendered after an eight-hour standoff with two wrath-class assets. He offered intel in exchange for induction into the program.
Upon acceptance, subject underwent two years of preparatory conditioning and a single serum cycle. Mutation stabilized within thirty-nine hours—an unprecedented timeframe. Current evidence suggests that the subject’s biology may have had a dormant affinity to the serum. Theories include genetic inheritance from an unregistered sibling survivor.
[REDACTED]
Comments: Subject is a great potential for Gluttony or Sloth. .
PHYSICAL AND PSYCH EVALUATIONS:
As of November 12th. 04:30 AM
Physical Attributes:
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 140
Build: Slim, Slender - Toned.
Penis Size: 11 in 7in ( Body Reference )
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Hazel
Tattoos: None.
Piercings: None
Sexual Preference: Homosexual
Sexual Position: Versatile
Comments:
Subject is not considered mentally stable by traditional standards. Displays symptoms consistent with unresolved trauma, paranoia, dissociative episodes, and survivor’s guilt. Despite this, functional capacity remains high; subject channels instability into hyper-focused operational performance. The risk of psychological breakdown remains moderate to high during missions involving:
Prolonged isolation
Perceived betrayal
Unplanned contact with figures from his past
Any triggers related to sibling disappearance
Notably, spikes in emotional distress correlate with irregular fluctuations in gift output. During simulation tests, subject unintentionally reversed probability fields, causing extreme "bad luck" zones within a ten-meter radius—tech failure, friendly fire, and chain-reactive malfunctions occurred in 73% of these episodes.
All operatives assigned alongside WRATH must be briefed on the potential for power misfire under emotional duress. Ongoing psychological evaluation is mandatory every 10 days. Subject resists therapy and exhibits deceptive behavior during evaluations—recommend introducing psychological monitoring agents disguised as mission support personnel.
[ CLEARED FOR THE TRANSFORMATION ]
CONDITIONING ASSESMENT:
As of April 10th. 10:30 AM
Powers: Probability Manipulation
Comments:
The subject is capable of subconsciously altering micro-variables in real time to shift outcomes in his favor. Bullets miss. Guards look the other way. Alarms glitch. Tech malfunctions. The effect appears probabilistic rather than deterministic, meaning he cannot choose the result, but he can tilt the odds, often to lethal effect. Field testing confirms the gift scales with risk — greater danger equals more substantial swings in probability. The subject has also shown the ability to harness the energy of probable fields into beams, projectiles, and various attacks, along with using jinx and hexes as projectiles, which he calls Sorbolts.
Notable Limitation: The subject’s mental state is a destabilizing factor. When emotionally compromised, the probability field becomes chaotic and indiscriminate—affecting both allies and objectives. Recent data suggests the possibility of spontaneous quantum variance loops within proximity, creating temporal and causal anomalies. There is also only guaranteed a 70% chance of said probabilities working - with a 30% chance of backfiring.
NOTABLE CONTINGENCY:
Comments: Unbeknownst to the subject, twin brother “Shayne Sorrento” operates within the same program under the division LUST, as agent AMBROSIA. Their reunion is being intentionally delayed. Psychological projections suggest premature contact may destabilize either or both agents. P.A.N.D.O.R.A. command has greenlit monitored reintroduction under false identities in a field operation within the next quarter.
Skills:
Expertise: Athletics, Close Combat Master, Brute Force.
Proficient: Investigation, Languages, Environmental Adaption
Substandard: Hacking & Cyber Warfare, Biochemistry & Medicine
romania, ben mused to himself, was not pleasant. he would have found the place interesting if not for the looming threat of creatures resulting from unethical experiments and the mole situation. did he sign up for this? not at all. but ben was here already and he hoped his power could come in handy when, not if, they came across the supposedly twisted creatures. he hoped no one would die. "hey," ben called out to another agent, voice cheery and upbeat despite the morbid thoughts swirling inside his head, "you okay, man? nervous? well, i sure am."
the mission was done and over, and they were finally packing up to head back home. lives were lost, others were injured, and roulette felt like complete shit about this. his powers backfired, and a probability bolt hit himself in the face at one point. he was disappointed and discouraged. hearing a voice next to him was mirage - he remembered talking to him about his pre-battle jitters. "i completely tanked. i think i maybe got in one hit and and was able to explode one of the sniper's guns." he grumbled, shaking his head in disdain. "how did things go with you?"
The collar around his neck was… unexpected. Harbinger understood the reasons why he was collared after Casper was revealed to be a mole – but not like he was aware of that information at the time of their interrogation. Maybe he should have done things differently? Not like Harbinger could blame others of being suspicious. He had one job and in return, he had considered Casper trustworthy when he was not. Of course, there would be suspicion upon him too. And… that was ok. There were bigger things happening right now and the last thing he wanted was to seem ungrateful or complain. The fact that he was collared didn’t mean he couldn’t be of help. If anything, he wanted to be even more helpful to prove his loyalty to Pandora. “Sorry.” His gloved fingers stopped playing with his collar and moved to pick a lock of his hair, his attention shifting from his thoughts to the newcomer approaching him. “Did you say something? I was… thinking.”
Roulette was freshly infiltrated with the other agents in Atlantis, so needless to say a lot of things still took him by awe... from the powers, to the men openly having sex, to... a man with a collar. He never knew what he would run into during his time there with PANDORA, but he was learning to find out what the collar entailed, go with the flow, and let things be that. he looked at the male with a collar on and wondered what the hell was about. He usually minded his business, but he wanted to go find out what the collar was and what it entailed. And how could he avoid being put into one? He moved next to the agent and looked at him with a look that said he didn't know what to say and that he was awkward with these things. "I didn't say anything yet... uh... I'm Blay- I mean Roulette." He was trying to get used to the introductions and using a callsign. "Does that come with your power?" He politely, yet awkwardly, motioned towards the collar.
Being a virtue agent had it's perks. While he often provided vehicle transport and aid to agents during their missions, Nero didn't mind being of use in other ways. This was especially true when it came to his roommate, Angel. He was... different from his usual M.O. Shorter, younger... softer... It was something the tech head would always notice when his callused touch grazed against Angel's supple skin. It didn't matter that Angel was also a virtue agent, Nero found himself lending his services to the fellow agent just the same.
It resembled much like the agent's callsign that they were roomed together. It helped that these two seemed to have an appetite that could be sated within a couple rounds. Wasn't a gun to the head or a dog mask, but Nero made due with what he was given, and boy did he give back. His hips curved themselves on each descent into the other man's hips, carving into his roommate's folds and fucking deeper into his pussy. A hungry stare stayed on Nero's face, studying each twitch and shift in Angel's face as his cock buries itself deeper within him.
"Fuck, you're so hot.." He breathes, slowing his thrusts just enough to have each one bottom Angel out at the hilt. "I think I'm going to like you for my new roomie."
The delight and the desire that he felt whenever he was with Nero was something that made the virtue agent feel giddy, loved, and overjoyed… he knew Nero the most here… maybe it was because they were roommates, or perhaps it was because he was falling helplessly in love with the tech guru. Either way, it was something that he was happy to have been blessed with. Feeling the calloused and rough hands on his baby soft skin ignited a fire for Nero that never ceased. Their bodies were completely different: Angel was short, and Nero was tall. Where Angel was petite and slim, Nero was built. Where Angel had a delicious pussy, Nero had a girthy dick that fit perfectly into it. They were a match made.
As Nero's hips rocked into him, the bulging manhood struck Angel's cervix over and over, making the agent weaker with each passionate and powerful thrust. Angel's hands gripped Nero's bicep, trying to keep himself from running. "Ay, papi.... ay papi.... ay papi..." was all that he could mutter over and over, trying not to give them away, but he was sure that anyone from the halls could hear the skin slapping skin and Angel's pathetic moans and whines. He looked down to see his creamy nectar coating Nero's tan cock and sticking to the bulging veins that would grind against his walls.
"Papi... you feel so good...." He looked up into Nero's eyes and instantly entered into a trance. "Best, fucking room, ever." He cried out, as the thrust broke up his sentence.
camper starter for @deadlypandora
location: tents || with: Angel/ Kismet
Nero had been nervous the entire trip. Checking his watch, marking his vitals down on a slim notepad he brought with him for notes. His equipment has never been more organized, just about catalogued by size and manufacturing date, filling the notepad that was starting to look like one confessed secret away from being his intimate companion. Measuring tape used to space them apart evenly. There's was now a sizeable divot in the gun polishing cream from how frequent he's used it since their departure from the Atlantis base. His hands had a faint scent of menthol thanks to the polish, it was a bit over bearing but pleasant as they hiked their way through the temporary base of operations.
Walking by Kismet's side the entire way through the Romanian woods, carrying both their bags. Inconspicuously looking around at the fellow agents that walked on by, Nero couldn't help but relax as he saw the vice agents joining them. He turned to Angel, or Kismet as he's meant to refer to him now that they were officially in an undisclosed mission on behalf of Pandora. A slight smile spreads on his face as he watches him, seeing the impressive curls bounce the more they walked towards the camp grounds. "Think we'll get placed together again, roomie?" He asks the fellow agent. "I don't mind sharing my bedroll with you, even if we're not together..." A slight blush tints his cheeks as he realizes his words. "You know what I mean. There's always room for a tight squeeze with me, Kismet." He winks.
Angel tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He glanced sideways at Nero, his own curls bouncing just a little more as if to make up for the tightness in his chest. The woods around them were quiet, save for the crunch of boots on damp leaves and the occasional rustle of movement from fellow agents. P.A.N.D.O.R.A had a way of assigning beauty to the bleak, and this place was no different. But the serene setting didn’t help much with the storm Angel was carrying inside.
He laughed softly, flicking a stray branch out of their path as he turned to Nero. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to sweet-talk your way into my bedroll and my field notes at the same time,” Angel teased, nudging Nero’s elbow gently with his own. It was flirty enough. Just light enough. Just safe enough.
But something in him still twisted. The way Nero had been so meticulous this trip, so prepared. Angel couldn’t help but wonder if that same energy went into preparing for the others. The ones they didn’t talk about. The unnamed lovers Nero sometimes slipped off to see. Ones Angel pretended didn’t matter.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, voice quieter now. “Maybe we will get paired again. They usually stick me with the ones who do make too much of a mess in setting up tents, so I can keep everything perfect for you guys.” His lips curled in a small, crooked grin, but his gaze stayed forward — away from Nero’s eyes. “And you’re very neat with your tech these days. Impressive.”
There was a pause. A longer one than he meant.
“Hey… you always get like this when we’re in a lull,” he said, changing the subject with a forced chuckle. “Taking vitals, cataloging gear like we’re about to get audited by Command. You sure you’re not just trying to impress your favorite virtue?”
His tone was teasing, but inside, he screamed to be seen. For Nero to stop and look past the agency codenames and mission logs, and other lovers. To look at Angel.
To say something that didn’t make him feel like a warm-up act.
Instead, he smiled again. Tried not to sound like he was hoping too much when he added, “But if there’s a tight squeeze… I call dibs on being the little spoon.”
He'd have to make it up to his roomie for putting him out of a room for the night, but there was some rigorous training being done... In the dead of night... on his mattress. Cardio, one could call it. Pandora always mentioned to agent the importance of endurance when they trained, safe to say Eric and Blayne were merely getting a leg up everyone else on their training.
Speaking of legs being up, Eric's were currently up in the air, his hips and hole bracing for the fellow agent's thrusts into his punished pussy. The sounds of skin slapping across skin filled the room and the creak of the mattress springs soon followed as Eric felt the weight behind each of Blayne's thrusts.
He bit down a moan as he felt Roulette's thrusts quicken, Eric's hands reached out to grab at the fellow agent's hips as a result. His red satin covered hands pawing and groping at Blayne's lower back and plump backside as they traveled lower across the agent's laboring body. Looking up through a veil of sweat, Eric pants, broken moans escaping his lips as he took the playful wrath of the wrath agent.
Blayne grinned through grit teeth, sweat slicking the curve of his spine as he watched Eric beneath him, flushed and breathless, eyes heavy with that dazed, intoxicating flare. Every sharp snap of his hips was deliberate, calculated like a gambler laying down a winning hand — and he always played to win. “Damn, you look good like this,” Blayne rasped, his voice raw from effort, from pleasure, from the sheer thrill of it all. “Didn’t think my first week at HQ would come with a reward like you.”
His fingers trailed down Eric’s chest, leaving heated traces over his skin, and he leaned in close, mouth brushing Eric’s jaw, their breath mingling between gasps. “You take me so well. Like you were waiting for someone to burn right through you.” His hand gripping at Erick’s throat while the elongated eleven-inch purses open the velvety entrance. Blayne’s rolling deep into his head as the walls crashed in on his girthy cock — giving him pleasures he hadn’t known before.
The tempo of their bodies matched — a firestorm of rhythm and friction, each movement feeding the next. Blayne’s lips brushed Eric’s ear, a wicked smile playing on his tongue. “Is this what they meant by team building?” he teased, breath hot. “Because I’ve never felt more locked in.” One hand tangled in the sheets beside Eric’s head, the other still holding onto Eric’s neck to keep him steady — the tension, the heat, the slow-burn ache of too much and not enough.
“You’re not tappin’ out on me yet, are you?” he murmured, gaze intense and burning while throwing a harsh thrust at the male’s womb. “Because I’ve got more. So much more.”
Comfort was the name of the game for Daniel, his need to be useful had by far yielded that in excess for the agents of Pandora. Their neatly sorted schedules and their constantly stocked ammunition. Even their nutrition was something Daniel took to trying to supplement to each agent's unique metabolism. However, their were other appetite's that the agents of Pandora held that Daniel had no problem sating. His hand dragged itself down the wrath agent's chest, his thumb leading the charge as Daniel smooths his palm against Blayne's belly. Applying a slight pressure as his own hips push his large member into him. It's a steady pace, feeling the head of his cock reach the velvety depths of Roulette. He was impressed with how much of his cock the fellow agent could take, and in true patience fashion, Daniel took his time until the base of his hips were flush against the curve of Blayne's ass. "How you feeling? Finally got those thoughts to shut themselves up, huh?" He tries at a chuckle, but is cut off by a moan, the slightest squeeze around him flustering the Patience agent. "Want me to go faster?"
Angel let out a soft, breathy moan as Daniel’s hips pressed deeper, slow and steady like he was carving comfort straight into his skin. His fingers curled into the sheets, knuckles pale, but his voice was anything but weak — it dripped with heat, with need. “Dios mío…” he moaned out heavily, back arching just slightly, letting Daniel’s dick glide deeper, fit tighter into his warm and tight pink hole.
His hand reached back, finding Daniel’s thigh, nails dragging gently down muscle in a touch that lingered between sensual and possessive. As an orgasm rocked out from behind the puffy folds, the creamy white nectar covered Daniel’s cock. Angel murmured, rolling his hips in rhythm, letting the drag and grind pull a gasp from his lips. “You make me forget I’m supposed to be composed. Because that feels so good, papi. Don’t stop, please…” his voice hoarse, and the delectable sounds of his squelching pussy being stirred by Daniel’s cock echoed throughout the room.
He looked over his shoulder, lips parted, eyes full of fire and softness all at once. “So go ahead, cariño… faster, deeper, rougher—whatever you’ve got. I’m yours tonight. All yours.”
ever since his latest mission went down in literal fire, victor hadn't been able to shake the tension off his shoulders and it weighed on him, uncomfortably so, despite his attempt to move on and leave it in the past. it was hard to admit, but victor didn't deal well with failure and it bothered him enough that all he saw was the mutated form of lycans whenever he shut his eyes close. allowing angel to lay his hands on him was no hard feat; victor was long overdue for any help the temperance division could offer, so here he was, moaning and grunting into the pillow when angel's hands traveled low and lower. his eyes, though a little droopy, managed to find the temperance agent's. "oh, yes, i love that, so fucking good, doll," victor mumbled, allowing yet another groan to rise up his chest.
his legs twitched open when victor felt digits slip between his rear, a long-grained impulse whenever someone touched him down there, careful and intimate, just the way angel did right now. "jesus, now you're just groping me," victor said with a breathless laughter, hips rocking into the bedding beneath him. the friction felt amazing, feeding to the heat that pooled low in his stomach, and angel's presence did nothing to quell it. instead, the temperance agent seemed to fuel it further. "can you guess, doll?" his voice had turned into a low growl as another moan bubbled up his throat. "your hands are needed somewhere else, sweet boy." the wrath agent shifted slightly to the side, attempting to have a glance at angel. "what do you say? d'you want to make me feel better?"
Angel’s fingers didn’t falter, expertly gliding over the knots in Victor’s back, slow and deliberate. He leaned in close, lips just brushing the shell of Victor’s ear as he whispered, voice soaked in that syrupy Miami drawl, “Mmm… you carry fire like it’s stitched into your bones, cariño. No wonder your muscles are screaming.” His palms pressed firmer now, gliding down the slope of Victor’s spine, thumbs brushing dangerously low with each pass. Every quiet grunt Victor made only encouraged him. Angel smiled, wicked and knowing.
“You say I’m groping you,” he murmured, letting his breath tickle across heated skin, “but I’m just… reading your tension. Every inch of you’s got a story, and baby, I wanna learn every chapter.” His fingertips danced over the curve of Victor’s hip, teasing before moving them back to the puffy cheeks under his hips, letting a teasing finger glide in between the cracks, pausing just long enough to draw a breathless reaction before trailing back up. “You want my hands somewhere else?” Angel asked, tilting his head, curls brushing Victor’s shoulder. “Then ask sweet, cariño. Ask me like you mean it.”
He shifted just enough for Victor to catch the glint in his eyes dark, playful, and full of unspoken promises. “I’m here to take care of you,” he purred, voice dipped low, velvet-soft. “Tell me exactly the parts you want me to touch. I crave hearing it from your mouth.”
Ratio stood close to Kismet, their clothes left somewhere on the floor. With their eyes locked on each other, Ray raised a rand and glided his open palm down the right side of Kismet's face, his touch gentle and warm. A thumb brushed against the young operative’s lips before he held his chin between his fingers.
“ Your skin is so soft, ” He whispered, the suggestion of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He leaned forward, face hidden in the crook of Kismet's neck. His lips claimed every inch they could reach while his hands pushed the agent's slender build against his bulkier one.
Slowly, he guided the other towards the bed, both of their bodies falling together onto the mattress. Rolling over, he made sure the smaller one was on top as their lips connected in a heated kiss. Ratio ran his hand down the miamian's back, slow and deliberate, “ Are you sure you want to do this? ”
Angel nearly leaned against the warm of Ratio’s sculptured chest, the long forgotten clothes gone exposing the smooth dip of his collarbone and the curve of his chest. His eyes were dark, heavy-lidded, and burning with a slow fire; were locked entirely on Ratio.
He watched the way Ratio moved, the way his touch melted over him like a vow whispered through the darkest of nights. That strength wrapped in patience, the softness under all that muscle making Angel’s breath catch for just a moment.
He stepped forward slowly. “You ask if he’s sure, but we both know the answer already. Feel this between us, I’ve never been more sure,” he purred, reaching out to gently run his fingers down Ratio’s shoulder — strong, broad, radiating heat. “I promise you and I will be hooked for a long time.” Angel leaned in close, his lips brushing against Ratio’s ear, his breath a shiver against the skin. He let out an exasperated yelp, after the fast motion and change of positions, with his slim body sitting on top of Ratio’s.
His hand trailed slowly down Ratio’s chest — stopping right where their hips met. “If you’re going to take me,” Angel whispered, voice low and laced with something wicked, “fuck me until I beg you to stop… and even then keep stroking deep into me until I forget who I am.” He pressed a kiss to Ratio’s shoulder, a quiet promise, then pulled back just far enough to meet his eyes again. The chemistry is thick enough to air the room.
Angel was a sight for sore eyes. Gossamer sat up, pushing a large pink squishmallow beneath him. He blushes upon being called mi amor. He didn't know what that meant, but it was said with so much reverence that it touched him. "I'm better! I've had some time to decompress and just chill out." He didn't like sitting by idly when his time could be spent training. Perry had just gotten back into eating solid foods, and was taking everything offered to him. Reaching for the muffins he takes one, holding it in both hands as if to savor it. Gossamer takes a bite and melts with joy. It was so delicious! "Did you bake these?" It wouldn't surprise him if Angel did. He was a man of many talents, after all. Gossamer pats the spot beside him on his bed, "Thanks for visiting me. I really appreciate it."
Angel stepped into the room like warm honey and smooth, slow, and sweet enough to linger. His uniform was slightly undone at the collar, a soft knit shawl draped over his shoulders like he hadn’t come straight from the training halls but from headquarters. The warm scent of sugar, vanilla, and something sinfully earthy clung to him. When Gossamer melted over the muffin, Angel’s smile turned downright lascivious, not overt, just… inviting. His eyes sparkled, heavy-lidded, as he walked closer.
“Claro que sí, mi amor. I made them just for you,” he purred, kneeling gracefully at the edge of the bed. His fingertips brushed over the sheets before he eased himself beside Gossamer, carefully but close enough to let their thighs press together. “Every crumble, every sprinkle, a little kiss of sweetness from me to you.”
He leaned in, voice softer now, like silk on the skin. “You know, I could have brought healing tonics or runes, or even full energy cleanse… but I thought you’d prefer something warm. Something soft.” His hand gently grazed Gossamer’s knee as he smiled. “And if that includes me? Even better.”
He tilted his head, voice dipping into a velvet hush. “Next time you need comfort… don’t wait for me to come. Just call. I live to take care of you.”
Burcu knew his experience before he submitted his existence to the program would be useful, but he never thought he'd have to profile other operatives. In fact, he tried incredibly hard not to in his first year following his initial training, however things changed. Missions would go poorly if agents suspected each other of being the mole, so Burcu was determined to find the truth for himself. Gently, of course.
Tensions had been high for days now so he went around filling every space in Atlantis with the sweetest aromas he could produce, relieving as much stress as he could manage. The perfumes were potent, calming, and—as Burcu secretly desired—would make it easier to open his fellow agents up and find the truth his way. "You don't mind, do you?" he asks the other while preparing tea. Floral, fruity, with hints of delicate spice, Burcu continues to push his abilities to swath the common space with this particular perfume. "I thought we all deserved some rest and relaxation before the next mission. Here, I made enough tea for two if you'd like some. I promise it'll pair well with the fragrance."
Angel had been walking around trying to think of an event to plan to boost the morale of the Agents. He knows that after the news about some of the other agents being deceased, there would be some of the agents that were saddened and down about the deaths. And the news came right after them, having accused the innocent agents of being moles - so he knew the turmoil was going to be heavy.
Angel looked up and smiled. Seeing Burcu filling the room with perfumes and sweet smells excited him to do sweet things for the agents. "Hmmm, that is a delicious fragrance. I didn't think of making the rooms smell heavenly." Kismet looked up from his notepad and pen of party ideas, decoration thoughts, and other welcoming and entertaining things. "Please, go ahead." He wanted to smell more of the alluring scent. "Yeah, I can't imagine how everyone feels going on the next mission after the last one didn't go so well." He said softly. He looked up at the other. "Do they plan on sending you out for missions soon?" The pretty Hispanic male looked up at the other taller and more built male.
Coldness. Discomfort. Pain. The feeling of death.
Something that the twin boy had known all too well, ever since his twin brother was taken from himj. He had been in brawls, spying, and espionage situations all to try to find his brother. And that was halted when P.A.N.D.O.R.A took him in. He had given up hope, because he searched the entire world for Shayne. It got to the point he was on many 'most wanted' list and had nothing to live for. Their parents tried to tame him, but the lost of his other half was something that made him feral. Something that PANDORA liked about him. He was definitely not he same by from New York. And when he was accepted into the program he was without a doubt someone that didn't know his old life.
He was fresh into Atlantis. Finally seing the agents and the enviroment that would be his new life. He sighed and took a deep breath. He knew for sure that this was going to be a new journey for him and that he had to make the best of it. He accepted Shayne's death, or at least he thought so, but that was the last thing on his mind. He wondered how he would be accustomed to a worldhe didn't even know existed. He sighed and roamed around the common areas. As he was sizing some of the agents up, he stopped when he saw the tattoo.... His life felt like a flash... Shayne.. happy, alive, and mingling. It made him happy, sad... and mad? He walked over towards his brother and quickly pulled at his arm.
"Shayne? You're... you're alive?"
romaincrisis
snowghoul
2087
