Post by Carlisle Cullen on Aug 30, 2008 9:05:23 GMT -5
Feel free to comment and complain, guys 
Just something I chalked up.
Huntsman
I am not what you would call ‘nice’. 17 Years growing up in a British suburb saw to that. When my Dad moved to Forks, Washington, it would’ve been very easy to describe me as a bastard.
Before we left on the plane, we went to visit Mum’s grave. I knelt down beside her; emotionally hammered once again; before leaving my Dad to cry his eyes out.
You see, my Mum was killed by a teenager. She was stabbed 4 times, 3 times in the kidneys. You can’t contemplate the crap my Dad went through because of it. It’s been 18 months and he’s just recovered.
The middle-class neighbourhood we lived in was near a rather rich estate. The kid got off scot free. That’s why we decided to leave
I stood on the edge of the graveyard, dressed in a solemn set of black drainpipes and a quaint white shirt. My meticulous leather boots are polished to my Dad’s standards: I essentially use them as mirrors.
I heard Dad before I saw him. He was clad in dress Uniform, as if it could be a shield against his grief. He smiled solemnly. He's a reasonably big guy, with cropped hair and glasses. He could kick my ass.
"Let's go, Matt." He breathed, before moving towards the Taxi.
The Gatwick was crowded, and the terminal was run-down, but we got a first-class seat. All my pap's army buddies were there. Sergeants, Corporals, Colonels, Leiutenants, all sorts. Even a General. My Dad took an hour to even start to head to departures. It wasn't bad, I said goodbye to a few of my cadet mates, and that's it. I wasn't well-liked, except in the army.
The journey from London to Forks is horribly boring; I didn't write this manuscript to chatter on how crappy it was. It was very long, my dad got searched 6 times by Americans and he had to flash his Visa for both of us 9 times. I got drunk on the plane, then fell asleep. That's about it
He took a very long Taxi ride to Forks. It was lush, green, pure. But the horrible whirring of the Taxi hammered at my head, and I barely took it in.
We had been assigned a decent house; a bit better then our old one in fact; and were greeted by a no-nonsense Police Chief. He wasn't incredibly friendly, but he wasn't bad.
As my Dad stepped out of the car, the Chief smiled (little more then pursing his lips) and shook my Dad's hand.
"Colonel Potter, it's good to meet you again."
"I'm your Sergeant, now, Sir. Best not to go calling me Colonel."
The bluntness of my Dad brought a slightly less-reluctant grin to the Chief.
"I'm sure it'll catch on as a nickname." He looked at me and held out his hand
"This must be Matt."
I glared slightly at him, but shook the hand
"Matthew Ryan Potter, Former Cadet Corporal. Sir." My habits kicked in and I saluted.
My Dad and the Chief laughed, but it was clear that it was more to defuse the situation then anything. I admit, I can be very aggressive sometimes.
"Well, I'm Police Chief Charlie Swan. Your Dad's going to be a fine Sergeant. Well, I'll come back in an hour or so to take you to your station. Matt should have enough time to get to School if he wants. I've been taking care of Jerry, Milly and Rusty for the last few weeks, I'll bring them with me" It was 4:00 AM and I had a perfect excuse to skip my first day.
"I'm tired and need a rest. I think I'll skip today." A second after my Dad presented me with his "D'ya think you have a choice?" glare, I mumbled darkly. My Dad had already set up the house from a previous visit - Very quiet. Noone had known he was there, except Charlie. That's how my Dad commonly worked. He had also managed to ship my Dogs over, which is harder then you think.
I got out of my dreary little outfit and unpacked my suitcases. I had a few pictures and alot of clothes. My lanky build means few clothes fit me. I crashed out in my bare room. It had a bed with plain white duvet and pillow. A chipboard desk and a Dell PC. Nothing special. I'm a simple person, I guess. This house was pretty ghostly, but not too bad. It was something that would not really change. My Dad and I were pretty active and outgoing people.
Content, I simply lay on my bad for a while in my underwear. Then I heard a car pull up. Before I knew what I was doing, I had dressed myself in a plain white shirt, rugged combat jacket and patched jeans, and was catapulting towards the door.
Charlie opened the door to let me see my two Springer Spaniels and Cairn Terrier. Jerry, the head of the pack and my best mate, pretty much fell over rushing towards me as I knelt down to say hello and give him a hug. He's incredibly physically fit, because I use him for hunting. Milly, slightly smaller but still very, very fit paddles up straight after him. Milly was Mum's dog. She attatched to me not long after the matriarch (a nickname for my Mum) died.
Dad was now carrying Rusty in his arms. Rusty was the youngest, and smallest, but he was the most feisty. Unbelievably tough. That's why my Dad loved him.
We put some food down for them, and some water. My Dad was smiling sadly at Milly. Tears were popping into his eyes. Charlie called to him, coming inside.
I gripped Mike's shoulder, comfortingly.
"She's watching us. Let's give her a show." I whispered, just as Charlie entered the kitchen to seen the spectacle.
Dad was suddenly back to himself, nodding at me in thanks.
"So, Swan, let's get going. I've got some paperwork to do." He joked.
"Ok, let's get going, Colonel."
And so my Dad was off to begin his new career, well slightly different one. I was forced to stare at my watch for 3 hours; playing with the dogs, setting up the TV, making sure my bag was ready for the 19th time, having a shower, brushing my teeth, etcetra. Boring, time-wasting stuff. Finally, the minute hand hit the hour, and I strode out of the door, locking it behind me. My Dad had a key. 3 mile walk to the school. Dad had told me the directions to school. It was a simple march, and I got to the office with time to spare.
I've never seen a woman so surprised. I can't blame her- blonde skinheads with glasses aren't incredibly common. My 2 centrimetre covering of hair instantly made people sceptical of me.
Impressively, she recovered quickly and smiled. She gave me my schedule and a map, and told me where to go first.
My first teacher didn't introduce me. It was trigonometry, which I had long ago aced several times. I got placed in the far corner, next to a blonde-haired kid who introduced himself.
"I'm Mike." He said.
"Matt." I replied, in my slightly posh british accent.
"So you're the new Sarge's kid." He asked. I grinned, nodding.
"Yeah. My Dad switched Colonel for Sergeant."
"Your Dad was a Colonel?"
"Yeah, in the Royal Engineers. Best damned regiment that England ever produced."
"Wow. Why'd he leave?"
"It's complicated" I said, sourly.
I got through the class with more then a fair share of stares. I wasn't worried. I've always been one of those 'alone in the corner' kids. I've had more insults thrown at me then you can count.
The next lesson was History. I'm not gonna boast here, but the level we were working out, I could have skipped a year and still been on top. It was on the American Civil War. I'd studied that in my free time during Year 10. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't impossible. I knew more then most. I didn't stick my hand up in any class, of course. Just aced the papers. In History, I sat next to a rather reclusive brunette girl. She stared at me, with her weird yellow eyes. I stared right back, unafraid. She was weird. Her skin was otherwordly pale, her face uncannily sharp and perfect. It annoyed me after awhile, so I glared and looked away.
Lunch. I went to sit as far from everyone as possible, but there was only a single free table, next to a group of 6, including the brunette girl from History. From a quick glance, I could see they were all celestially beautiful and cloud-pale. I didn't get much more then that
But then Mike saved me, the heroic little twit, and offered me a place at his.
The people there were slightly stunned. All the guys were pretty buff and well-built, the girls weren't the usual trash you found hanging around such guys. But the weird thing is, they all smiled and greeted me. It was like they WANTED to know me. As I sat down, people asked nice questions. I awkwardly began to socialise. You see, the only socialising I've ever really mastered is Dogs and Squaddies. The former barely uses more the one word per sentence, the latter involves enough swearing to make a hundred vicars blush. So I did the latter, minus swearing. It kinda worked. I worked out the names of a few people, and I was invited to join the 'Football' team. I'm well-built aswell, you see. Lean and tall. After finishing my food, I stood up and said "I'll see you later to them." They smiled and waved, and a kid I'd gotten on with quite well called George followed me.
He wasn't half-bad, short curly brown hair and very tall. But then I tripped, and the remnants of my milk and pudding went flying into the chest of the other end of the ugly scale. He was pretty massive, with spiked-up brown hair. He growled at me and gave me a shove. I saw the 6 Angels at the table look over, one standing up.
"Watch where you're going, you british nerd."
Ok,I'll admit something here. I snapped. I snapped baaaaaddd. I looked the guy in the eye, bunching my fists up. I threw my glasses over my back and chuckled at him; a menacing one.
"Why don't you buy a brain, you lobotomized chimp." I heard a number of gasps. Obviously this guy had a reputation. Well, so did it.
He shoved his chest into me - we were about the same height - and snarled. George pulled on my arm, obviously very worried.
"What did you say?"
"I called you a shit-throwing, brainless, monkey. What ya gunnae do aboot it, ya wee purse?" I go to my natural Scottish accent when threatened. George was now in the audience surrounding us. I saw one of the pale boys striding towards us, but by this time the bully was already throwing a punch.
Army training kicked in. I grabbed his wrist with my left, more to deflect it then anything, and hit him swear in the groin with my knee, as my right arm brought it's elbow hammering against his outstretched arm. As the Lunch monitor strode up to us, furious, he was lying on the ground, moaning in pain. The crowd that had gathered no longer possesed the ability to shut their mouths. The pale boy, curly dark hair, had his eyes wide open.
I chuckled, grinning as I got a dressing down by the teacher.
I got to my next class before the end of Lunch. The guy who attacked me owned up to everything, grudgingly, but only because 6 witnesses saw it. I was given a friendly warning then walked to my next lesson. It was Biology, ironically. Skeletal Structure, or something along those lines. I saw literally across the desk from two of the pale skins, the brunette and dark-haired ones. They stared at me; I was used to this now, so I stared back with a mischievious grin of my face. I had nothing to do, my partner was absent.
At the end, I found myself pretty much confronted by them. They smiled and introduced themselves.
"Hey, I'm Bella." Said the brunette
"And I'm Edward." Said the boy.
"Ahhh, good British names. I, however, have a Judaen name. Call me Matt."
The boy then clumsily blurted out
"Where'd you learn to fight like that?" I answered the only way I could.
"The Corp kicks your arse, so you can kick others."
Just something I chalked up.Huntsman
I am not what you would call ‘nice’. 17 Years growing up in a British suburb saw to that. When my Dad moved to Forks, Washington, it would’ve been very easy to describe me as a bastard.
Before we left on the plane, we went to visit Mum’s grave. I knelt down beside her; emotionally hammered once again; before leaving my Dad to cry his eyes out.
You see, my Mum was killed by a teenager. She was stabbed 4 times, 3 times in the kidneys. You can’t contemplate the crap my Dad went through because of it. It’s been 18 months and he’s just recovered.
The middle-class neighbourhood we lived in was near a rather rich estate. The kid got off scot free. That’s why we decided to leave
I stood on the edge of the graveyard, dressed in a solemn set of black drainpipes and a quaint white shirt. My meticulous leather boots are polished to my Dad’s standards: I essentially use them as mirrors.
I heard Dad before I saw him. He was clad in dress Uniform, as if it could be a shield against his grief. He smiled solemnly. He's a reasonably big guy, with cropped hair and glasses. He could kick my ass.
"Let's go, Matt." He breathed, before moving towards the Taxi.
The Gatwick was crowded, and the terminal was run-down, but we got a first-class seat. All my pap's army buddies were there. Sergeants, Corporals, Colonels, Leiutenants, all sorts. Even a General. My Dad took an hour to even start to head to departures. It wasn't bad, I said goodbye to a few of my cadet mates, and that's it. I wasn't well-liked, except in the army.
The journey from London to Forks is horribly boring; I didn't write this manuscript to chatter on how crappy it was. It was very long, my dad got searched 6 times by Americans and he had to flash his Visa for both of us 9 times. I got drunk on the plane, then fell asleep. That's about it
He took a very long Taxi ride to Forks. It was lush, green, pure. But the horrible whirring of the Taxi hammered at my head, and I barely took it in.
We had been assigned a decent house; a bit better then our old one in fact; and were greeted by a no-nonsense Police Chief. He wasn't incredibly friendly, but he wasn't bad.
As my Dad stepped out of the car, the Chief smiled (little more then pursing his lips) and shook my Dad's hand.
"Colonel Potter, it's good to meet you again."
"I'm your Sergeant, now, Sir. Best not to go calling me Colonel."
The bluntness of my Dad brought a slightly less-reluctant grin to the Chief.
"I'm sure it'll catch on as a nickname." He looked at me and held out his hand
"This must be Matt."
I glared slightly at him, but shook the hand
"Matthew Ryan Potter, Former Cadet Corporal. Sir." My habits kicked in and I saluted.
My Dad and the Chief laughed, but it was clear that it was more to defuse the situation then anything. I admit, I can be very aggressive sometimes.
"Well, I'm Police Chief Charlie Swan. Your Dad's going to be a fine Sergeant. Well, I'll come back in an hour or so to take you to your station. Matt should have enough time to get to School if he wants. I've been taking care of Jerry, Milly and Rusty for the last few weeks, I'll bring them with me" It was 4:00 AM and I had a perfect excuse to skip my first day.
"I'm tired and need a rest. I think I'll skip today." A second after my Dad presented me with his "D'ya think you have a choice?" glare, I mumbled darkly. My Dad had already set up the house from a previous visit - Very quiet. Noone had known he was there, except Charlie. That's how my Dad commonly worked. He had also managed to ship my Dogs over, which is harder then you think.
I got out of my dreary little outfit and unpacked my suitcases. I had a few pictures and alot of clothes. My lanky build means few clothes fit me. I crashed out in my bare room. It had a bed with plain white duvet and pillow. A chipboard desk and a Dell PC. Nothing special. I'm a simple person, I guess. This house was pretty ghostly, but not too bad. It was something that would not really change. My Dad and I were pretty active and outgoing people.
Content, I simply lay on my bad for a while in my underwear. Then I heard a car pull up. Before I knew what I was doing, I had dressed myself in a plain white shirt, rugged combat jacket and patched jeans, and was catapulting towards the door.
Charlie opened the door to let me see my two Springer Spaniels and Cairn Terrier. Jerry, the head of the pack and my best mate, pretty much fell over rushing towards me as I knelt down to say hello and give him a hug. He's incredibly physically fit, because I use him for hunting. Milly, slightly smaller but still very, very fit paddles up straight after him. Milly was Mum's dog. She attatched to me not long after the matriarch (a nickname for my Mum) died.
Dad was now carrying Rusty in his arms. Rusty was the youngest, and smallest, but he was the most feisty. Unbelievably tough. That's why my Dad loved him.
We put some food down for them, and some water. My Dad was smiling sadly at Milly. Tears were popping into his eyes. Charlie called to him, coming inside.
I gripped Mike's shoulder, comfortingly.
"She's watching us. Let's give her a show." I whispered, just as Charlie entered the kitchen to seen the spectacle.
Dad was suddenly back to himself, nodding at me in thanks.
"So, Swan, let's get going. I've got some paperwork to do." He joked.
"Ok, let's get going, Colonel."
And so my Dad was off to begin his new career, well slightly different one. I was forced to stare at my watch for 3 hours; playing with the dogs, setting up the TV, making sure my bag was ready for the 19th time, having a shower, brushing my teeth, etcetra. Boring, time-wasting stuff. Finally, the minute hand hit the hour, and I strode out of the door, locking it behind me. My Dad had a key. 3 mile walk to the school. Dad had told me the directions to school. It was a simple march, and I got to the office with time to spare.
I've never seen a woman so surprised. I can't blame her- blonde skinheads with glasses aren't incredibly common. My 2 centrimetre covering of hair instantly made people sceptical of me.
Impressively, she recovered quickly and smiled. She gave me my schedule and a map, and told me where to go first.
My first teacher didn't introduce me. It was trigonometry, which I had long ago aced several times. I got placed in the far corner, next to a blonde-haired kid who introduced himself.
"I'm Mike." He said.
"Matt." I replied, in my slightly posh british accent.
"So you're the new Sarge's kid." He asked. I grinned, nodding.
"Yeah. My Dad switched Colonel for Sergeant."
"Your Dad was a Colonel?"
"Yeah, in the Royal Engineers. Best damned regiment that England ever produced."
"Wow. Why'd he leave?"
"It's complicated" I said, sourly.
I got through the class with more then a fair share of stares. I wasn't worried. I've always been one of those 'alone in the corner' kids. I've had more insults thrown at me then you can count.
The next lesson was History. I'm not gonna boast here, but the level we were working out, I could have skipped a year and still been on top. It was on the American Civil War. I'd studied that in my free time during Year 10. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't impossible. I knew more then most. I didn't stick my hand up in any class, of course. Just aced the papers. In History, I sat next to a rather reclusive brunette girl. She stared at me, with her weird yellow eyes. I stared right back, unafraid. She was weird. Her skin was otherwordly pale, her face uncannily sharp and perfect. It annoyed me after awhile, so I glared and looked away.
Lunch. I went to sit as far from everyone as possible, but there was only a single free table, next to a group of 6, including the brunette girl from History. From a quick glance, I could see they were all celestially beautiful and cloud-pale. I didn't get much more then that
But then Mike saved me, the heroic little twit, and offered me a place at his.
The people there were slightly stunned. All the guys were pretty buff and well-built, the girls weren't the usual trash you found hanging around such guys. But the weird thing is, they all smiled and greeted me. It was like they WANTED to know me. As I sat down, people asked nice questions. I awkwardly began to socialise. You see, the only socialising I've ever really mastered is Dogs and Squaddies. The former barely uses more the one word per sentence, the latter involves enough swearing to make a hundred vicars blush. So I did the latter, minus swearing. It kinda worked. I worked out the names of a few people, and I was invited to join the 'Football' team. I'm well-built aswell, you see. Lean and tall. After finishing my food, I stood up and said "I'll see you later to them." They smiled and waved, and a kid I'd gotten on with quite well called George followed me.
He wasn't half-bad, short curly brown hair and very tall. But then I tripped, and the remnants of my milk and pudding went flying into the chest of the other end of the ugly scale. He was pretty massive, with spiked-up brown hair. He growled at me and gave me a shove. I saw the 6 Angels at the table look over, one standing up.
"Watch where you're going, you british nerd."
Ok,I'll admit something here. I snapped. I snapped baaaaaddd. I looked the guy in the eye, bunching my fists up. I threw my glasses over my back and chuckled at him; a menacing one.
"Why don't you buy a brain, you lobotomized chimp." I heard a number of gasps. Obviously this guy had a reputation. Well, so did it.
He shoved his chest into me - we were about the same height - and snarled. George pulled on my arm, obviously very worried.
"What did you say?"
"I called you a shit-throwing, brainless, monkey. What ya gunnae do aboot it, ya wee purse?" I go to my natural Scottish accent when threatened. George was now in the audience surrounding us. I saw one of the pale boys striding towards us, but by this time the bully was already throwing a punch.
Army training kicked in. I grabbed his wrist with my left, more to deflect it then anything, and hit him swear in the groin with my knee, as my right arm brought it's elbow hammering against his outstretched arm. As the Lunch monitor strode up to us, furious, he was lying on the ground, moaning in pain. The crowd that had gathered no longer possesed the ability to shut their mouths. The pale boy, curly dark hair, had his eyes wide open.
I chuckled, grinning as I got a dressing down by the teacher.
I got to my next class before the end of Lunch. The guy who attacked me owned up to everything, grudgingly, but only because 6 witnesses saw it. I was given a friendly warning then walked to my next lesson. It was Biology, ironically. Skeletal Structure, or something along those lines. I saw literally across the desk from two of the pale skins, the brunette and dark-haired ones. They stared at me; I was used to this now, so I stared back with a mischievious grin of my face. I had nothing to do, my partner was absent.
At the end, I found myself pretty much confronted by them. They smiled and introduced themselves.
"Hey, I'm Bella." Said the brunette
"And I'm Edward." Said the boy.
"Ahhh, good British names. I, however, have a Judaen name. Call me Matt."
The boy then clumsily blurted out
"Where'd you learn to fight like that?" I answered the only way I could.
"The Corp kicks your arse, so you can kick others."
