Scenario: Draco's Termination
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Scenario: Draco's Termination
by John. Wed Mar 11, 2015 1:55 am
This is a little something i do as a keepsake for any defining moments of my character.
Draco sat at his desk, the overhead clock ticking the seconds away until 8 pm, the end of his shift. He looked around, the oaken bookshelf holding binder after binder of theft reports, security dossiers and reprimandations. He sighed, a sigh that was drawn out harrowing. The air around him was getting thicker, the atmosphere weighing down on his very being. Rain pounded rebelliously against the window, the fluorescent light casting a sickly white sheet over his sunken and worn features. Discarding the growing feeling of discomfort, Draco reached for his sapphire-blue fountain pen.
He looked around his desk, scanning paper after paper of arbitrary text, the words themselves merging into each other. He placed his pen down in resignment, deciding to take an early night off. As he looked to the coat hook behind him, he happened to gaze out of the window: the speakers were descending, the rust covered loudspeakers beginning to vibrate. Muffled tones pounded at his window. He stood up, walking over to the window and opening it, before he could gather his senses he was pummelled with an - unfortunately - all-too familiar voice. It ringing out a snide and conceited tone that insinuated nothing but malice.
“Could Dr. Maltruce pleaaase come to the CWU member management desk? ...NOW?”. Despite the worrying implications of this, he could only chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. An alien empire somehow managed to set it up so that this twit who was practically the embodiment of his 5th grade French teacher is now somehow able to ruin his life. Shaking his head rather quickly, Draco turned, walking out the oaken doors, taking a sharp left and walking into the elevator. His finger moved to press the ‘G’ button, but hesitated, he checked his sleeve. A clear white glass syringe was strapped to the inside of his sleeve by Velcro straps. Re-assuring himself that he could defend himself, he continued to descend.
The metal doors slid open, three units armed with their intimidation, and batons crowded over a short, elderly man. His beige suit contrasted against the cyan glow of the nearby window. He smelt somewhat of cheap detergent and mothballs, he clung to a brown folder as if it were his life’s earnings.
“Misterrrr Maltruce!” He sneered, pushing forth the document. “Your resignment detailsss.”. Draco sighed for a moment, stepping forward and snatching the document before opening it, and reading through.
“Dr. Draco Maltruce - Status: Resigned - Reason: Family Bereavement.”
Unbelievable, the union couldn't even have the common decency of publicly admitting they fired a doctor, which is a rare commodity nowadays. Draco looked up, replying “Alright…”, words beginning to fail him. Instead, he walked forward, straight past his boss, up to one of the units, realising that now he is a citizen he should best keep up appearances with the ‘Force’. The unit responded by ripping off his loyalist armband and CWU garnets. Draco replied with a polite smile.
Clenching his fists, and becoming somewhat more confrontational, he was kicked out onto the streets; being met with rain crashing with the concrete floor below him. His combed hair soon dampened, so did his suit. Behind him, a cardboard box full of ceramic and paper possessions was thrown out, the clattering cacophony making suitable music for the situation. Draco straightened his posture, not looking back. He would quickly tighten his tie, before walking down the street. observing citizens pick up old newspapers and hold them over their heads, or run under canopies. Oddly, the cold pitter patter of rainfall only served to drive his anger, he would take a sharp left, straight through the blue metal gates with the blaring signs of “DISTRICT 4 - IDENTIFICATION REQUIRED”
Draco sat at his desk, the overhead clock ticking the seconds away until 8 pm, the end of his shift. He looked around, the oaken bookshelf holding binder after binder of theft reports, security dossiers and reprimandations. He sighed, a sigh that was drawn out harrowing. The air around him was getting thicker, the atmosphere weighing down on his very being. Rain pounded rebelliously against the window, the fluorescent light casting a sickly white sheet over his sunken and worn features. Discarding the growing feeling of discomfort, Draco reached for his sapphire-blue fountain pen.
He looked around his desk, scanning paper after paper of arbitrary text, the words themselves merging into each other. He placed his pen down in resignment, deciding to take an early night off. As he looked to the coat hook behind him, he happened to gaze out of the window: the speakers were descending, the rust covered loudspeakers beginning to vibrate. Muffled tones pounded at his window. He stood up, walking over to the window and opening it, before he could gather his senses he was pummelled with an - unfortunately - all-too familiar voice. It ringing out a snide and conceited tone that insinuated nothing but malice.
“Could Dr. Maltruce pleaaase come to the CWU member management desk? ...NOW?”. Despite the worrying implications of this, he could only chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. An alien empire somehow managed to set it up so that this twit who was practically the embodiment of his 5th grade French teacher is now somehow able to ruin his life. Shaking his head rather quickly, Draco turned, walking out the oaken doors, taking a sharp left and walking into the elevator. His finger moved to press the ‘G’ button, but hesitated, he checked his sleeve. A clear white glass syringe was strapped to the inside of his sleeve by Velcro straps. Re-assuring himself that he could defend himself, he continued to descend.
The metal doors slid open, three units armed with their intimidation, and batons crowded over a short, elderly man. His beige suit contrasted against the cyan glow of the nearby window. He smelt somewhat of cheap detergent and mothballs, he clung to a brown folder as if it were his life’s earnings.
“Misterrrr Maltruce!” He sneered, pushing forth the document. “Your resignment detailsss.”. Draco sighed for a moment, stepping forward and snatching the document before opening it, and reading through.
“Dr. Draco Maltruce - Status: Resigned - Reason: Family Bereavement.”
Unbelievable, the union couldn't even have the common decency of publicly admitting they fired a doctor, which is a rare commodity nowadays. Draco looked up, replying “Alright…”, words beginning to fail him. Instead, he walked forward, straight past his boss, up to one of the units, realising that now he is a citizen he should best keep up appearances with the ‘Force’. The unit responded by ripping off his loyalist armband and CWU garnets. Draco replied with a polite smile.
Clenching his fists, and becoming somewhat more confrontational, he was kicked out onto the streets; being met with rain crashing with the concrete floor below him. His combed hair soon dampened, so did his suit. Behind him, a cardboard box full of ceramic and paper possessions was thrown out, the clattering cacophony making suitable music for the situation. Draco straightened his posture, not looking back. He would quickly tighten his tie, before walking down the street. observing citizens pick up old newspapers and hold them over their heads, or run under canopies. Oddly, the cold pitter patter of rainfall only served to drive his anger, he would take a sharp left, straight through the blue metal gates with the blaring signs of “DISTRICT 4 - IDENTIFICATION REQUIRED”
John.- Posts : 7
Join date : 2015-02-19
John.- Posts : 7
Join date : 2015-02-19
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