FIRST you had the visions.

THEN you had the witnesses.

NEXT you had the personal experience

and

NOW you have the confirmation.

That you indeed are something not quite human.

Baseline :

All your life has been building up to this moment. The moment when you are kidnapped and whisked away to a remote facility dozens, maybe hundreds, or even thousands of miles away. Why? Well, you know. You know, but you might not accept it. You have a power, an ability, that is something out of this world. And now's the choice to join the Python and survive as a human weapon . . . or defy them and end up . . . well, you don't know.

The clock is counting down.

My bio:

Name: Rose Obayo

Age: 11 (NB: she must be the youngest person summoned)

Personality: Quiet. Disturbed. Young but mature.

Appearance: Cinnamon coloured skin and hazel almond-shaped eyes. She has a slim, small build and looks a good few years younger than her actual  age. 

Power/ability: Telekinetic power.

TO JOIN RMAIL ME WITH AN EXAMPLE OF YOUR WORK OR YOU WILL BE IGNORED.

My bio:

Name: Jaxson Bradly

Age: 16

Personality: Very hands on, likes to lead.

Appearance: Dark short hair, green eyes, very well built. Wears fitting clothes. Always carries a weapon.

Power/ability: speed

Name: Fiona "Fee" Parmalee
Gender: Female
Age: 18
Personality: Sarcastic, self-reliant, and will not finish a task unless she is absolutely fascinated by the subject or it's easy for her.
Appearance: Tall, average weight. Gray-blue eyes, numerous freckles, and short, dark hair. Loves wearing accessories and high-end fashion, so it's a good thing her parents were a bit more well-off than others.
Ability: She can talk to mammals, though she can only understand about half of what they mean and only when they've got nonsen- I mean, very important things to say. And only mammals, so forget trying to communicate with crabs.

Let's start?

I yawn deeply, eyes still closed,wondering why I haven't been shaken awake yet. Usually I never get up before my mum forces me out of the serene comfort of my soft bed. I roll over, and the loud squeak made causes my body to freeze. My blood runs cold and my neck suddenly feels itchy and exposed. The creak . . . it sounds like that of a bed of metal; not my old wooden one.

My eyes fly open. What the hell . . .? The sheets of my bed are rough and scratchy and starched. My bedside table with my multi-coloured lamp on it is absent. The bed is indeed metal; not wood. "Omigod, omigod, omigod," I whisper to myself. This is not my small blue-and-white room. It's way too large and I certainly don't sleep in the same room as a hyperventilating eleven-year old with flaming carrot hair.

I feel sick to my stomach - not to mention scared out of my very skin. I've been kidnapped . . . oh God. Numerous images of child abuse flash through my mind and I scream out loud in terror. The other girl stops and stares at me with wide, fearful eyes and tucks her knees in so that her head is resting on them.

"Who's there?" she says, her voice wobbling. "W-what are you g-going to do to me? Why am I here?"

I ignore her, and try to quell the flames of my fear. Logical thinking, Holly. Come on.

I swing my legs round the bed and stand up, placing my bare feet on the cold flooring. Also metal. My fingers run across the wall. Undoubtedly metal. Impossible to escape from. I curse loudly and stamp the ground in frustration, because the other choice is to break down and weep but there's no way that I will do that. No. I'm a practical girl.

I start moving across the room, searching for an exit, tuning out the other girl's pleas and sobs so that I am not reduced to the weak state she is in now.