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Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

Hush. Don't make a sound. Annie will make sure that if you do, it'll be your last breath.

0 · 69 views · located in The Ruins

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by pantalimon

Description

Birth Name: CLASSIFIED. M.I.O.
Undercover Name: Annie MgGarthon
Rank: Leader
Age: 26
Accommodations: Breast size C
Hostility: 8
Patience: 1
Humour: 7
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 123 lbs
Hair: Black, breast-length.
Eyes: Ice Blue
Voice: Female; Mechanical
Skin: Tanned
Parent 1: CLASSIFIED. N.A.
Parent 2: CLASSIFIED. N.A.
Sibling 1: CLASSIFIED. M.I.O.
Sibling 2: CLASSIFIED. M.I.O.

Abilities: CLASSIFIED. N.A.
Missions: CLASSIFIED. M.I.O.
Capabilities: CLASSIFIED. N.A.
Weapons: CLASSIFIED. M.I.O.
Location: CLASSIFIED. N.A.
Targets: CLASSIFIED. N.A.

Specs: Trained by S.I.A. leader. One of the favorites. Runs elite organization, 'M.I.G.4'--Military Interest Group 4. Henceforth, undercover overseas.

Code:
M.I.O.--Military Intelligence Only.
N.A.--No Access (highest level of classification).

So begins...

Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)'s Story

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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"Anything on tap," were the words the woman spoke, surprising the bartender enough to make him jump. She waited a few moments for him to bring her the drink, and once he had, set about to sipping it. It was disgusting. She drank. The little voice whirred in her head,
T-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-arrrrrrg-g-get-t-t-t-t-t.
It was broken, so much so that to hear her directions in full Annie needed to wait over two minutes. "System shut down," she muttered, under her breath, as the winged girl walked up to the bar, and stopped a few seats away from her.

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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It was good to have silence in her head. There was no clicking, the machines weren't sliding past each other with little metallic gurgles. It was quiet, in Annie's mind, and she enjoyed herself now that she could sip the revolting fluid and observe. That was what Annie did. She watched. And when she saw, she recorded; but not today. She was just another girl, today. It was a good feeling, to be the same. To be uniform.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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"Evening," Annie's soft voice muttered. She stood behind Anodyne, intent on wrapping the girl in a conversation. "All systems go," she whispered. The clicking in her head started up again, metal crashing against metal. Whirring. Pounding. She winced out the rhythm, two long pauses and then one short.
Syst-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ems-s-s-s f-f-f-functioni-i-ing cor-r-r-r-rectly. Wh-wh-why did you-u-u-u shut-t us d-d-dow-w-wn, An-n-n-nie?
She ignored the mechanical, questioning voice in her head. It wasn't really a person. It didn't care why she had turned it off. It wanted to know why her performance was off.

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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"You're off," Annie informed her. It was true, if not outstandingly rude. She waited for a reply to this, as the whirring wavered at a higher pitch than before. She wondered if anybody else could hear it? If they couldn't now, they would be able to soon, at the rate it was accelerating in pitch.
Ta-a-a-a-arget-t.
it stuttered, the mental image of a finger pointing towards Anodyne popping up in Annie's head. So that's her, she thought. I was right, then. She is off.

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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Most people would have wondered when their random conversation was turned to Africa, but Annie did not. If somebody had asked her, she would have honestly been able to say that she wasn't curious in the slightest. "Strange. Odd. Weird. Off." She didn't really give a damn what this woman thought, any longer. "Evening," she repeated, this time meaning it as a farewell. Annie turned, marched stoutly towards the large wooden doors, and took her leave.

The setting changes from gambits-bar to Gambit's Hotel, 9th Floor

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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Annie knew exactly who the man was that was just outside of the apartment. He was her target, and he was who lived there. She had folded herself up in one of the kitchen cupboards, above the countertop and right against the ceiling. All she'd needed to do to get in was rent a room one floor down and sixty feet over. She had climbed out of the window, used all the holds she could get on the jutting bricks, and picked the lock on the window once she had gotten a firm seat on the sill. If the room had had a balcony, it would've made things much easier and less dangerous for her; but no, it was just the one window, Which she'd needed to lock again once she got inside. So, there she sat, folded in upon herself in the cupboard, waiting to be discovered or left alone.

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.) had managed to contrive a little box out of her limbs and torso. Her thighs were pressed up against her sides, her elbows linked around her knees, and her fingers clasped in front of her rib cage, holding down her head. She was quite small this way, wearing only the white, skin-tight suit she'd been issued. Its particular fit was meant for times just like this, when the bulk of clothing couldn't get in her way.

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.) popped out of the cupboard, and used the counter as leverage to vault over Johnny Kinglsey. "Good evenin' sah, I'm afrai' you'll 'ave to put ya' hands in the air an' git on yer' knees." Cleverly fitted up between her breasts was the barrel of a gun, holstered against her chest like a part of her. She removed it, seeming completely casual about all of this business, and aimed it at the man with a drowsy expression.

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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"I'm no' permitted ta tell ya' what ya's been cha-a-aged wit'." Her lilting voice, with an accent somewhere between Scottish and English, droned along her rehearsed lines of dialog. "Nice part is, I git all the money fer me-self. See, you're just anoder sod that ain't know what e's doin'. On ya' knees." She repeated.

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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Clicking in Annie's head informed her of two things: One, she was late, and two, she needed to get this done fast, or he would retaliate. "Ah ain't here tuh take yer bubblies, if tha's what ya think. No, I ain't got identification on me. Ah could barely fit dis 'ere gun," she gave the barrel a jerk, still aimed at Johnny. "So, yer file. Said sommat' 'bout," she paused "'bout powers. Why ain't ya usin' em then, huh?" A grin slid on to her face. Despite her uneducated speech, she was a genius; why else would she be there? The accent was an act, anyway--just a fabricated detail. It had nothing to do with who she really was.

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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Stepping forward, Annie moved to smack him, hard, across the face with the side of her gun. "Remember in movies, when 'dey got all the action goin', and some schmuck goes an' takes five 'ole minutes wit' 'is dialog? Not 'appenin', darlin'."

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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After the man's fingers closed over her wrist, she tried to send her knee into his chest with as much force and speed as she could. "Fucka'!" she cried, still holding up her accent. "Get ya' 'ands off me!"

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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Annie got her head out of the way just in time, as she was already attempting to grab his ankles. "I've never worried about that, personally," her accent was gone, now "Since metal absorbs shock," Her wrist jerked, as she tried to get it free. With her other hand, she went for his left ankle, in an attempt to pull his foot from under him. If this worked, she would hold it in mid air, and with one of her legs get his other foot off of the ground.

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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With a grunt, Annie landed on top of Johnny. The hard metal of the gun pressed up into her ribcage, a dull pain compared to the alarms wailing in her head.
Threat detected; high threat level!
in turn, these words poured from her mouth, and set in the air. She was a dwarf compared to this man; an absolute stick. She went for where it would hurt, and with her fist she tried punched him in the family jewels. This impact would be almost quadrupled, as her body parts were all composed of a stress-enduring metal that was hard as steel. "Wouldn't it be nice if you just understood I'm not here for your effing money!"

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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Annie slid across the floor, softly stopping when her back came in contact with the counter. She stood, and took the gun from her bosom. "Annie MgGarthon, S.I.A. Kindly hold still. You will feel nothing, and it will be over quickly." Her finger wavered on the trigger, dark eyes dead set on him.

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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Annie pulled the trigger twice. First at her original target--the middle of his forehead--but then, again, at his heart. She thought about punching another hole in his right pectoral, but decided against it. Those two shots should have done the job just fine.

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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Slowly, quietly, Annie gathered herself and unlatched the window. Once outside, the magnetic pulse from her palm was enough to twist the latch back into place. She plummeted like a rock on her way down, and once she hit the ground crumpled. Her form contorted, stretched, and straightened itself again. The Marrionette, the Puppet. The Deadly Doll. Annie MgGarthon put her hands in her pockets and walked on to the street, pretty as you please.

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.) is here, being all...contortionist-reminiscent.

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.) was braced, at an awkward angle, down below the window sill of a building at the edge of the square. Her bright white uniform was almost impossible to miss, against the dark shadow of the bricks. Her arms were wrapped around the sill, fingers locked together in order to hold her there. She appeared to be sleeping, with her legs folded behind her to take up as little space as possible.

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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Annie sensed herself being watched. She felt, with the very fabric of her being, an emotion of concern or confusion emanate from the man that passed her. She cracked open her tired eyes, and gave a silent yawn; yes, just IS had predicted, they were all here; all four of them. She resisted grinning. Why did they get such bright suits, she wondered, if they were supposed to hide? She certainly wasn't blending in.

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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That's why! Annie realized, the big white squares of her suit flipping and mirroring the wall. It was a chameleon suit. This must've been an important job, then, if they were giving her the newest stuff. To any other eyes, she would have simply disappeared in to the wall. Stealthily, she prowled along the bricks, putting a hand here and a foot there on pieces that jutted out farther than the others. She was at least ten feet above the ground, right below the second floor of whatever building this was. She dropped to the ground with a low thump, and prowled forward, towards the woman sitting on the fountain.

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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As she moved, Annie's suit gradually cooled her down, erasing her heat presence and any scent she might waft. An accidental touch would feel, to a stranger, like a brush of wind. Her thoughts would not echo, as she was not technically a human being. Her manufacturing details said 'Artificial Intelligence'. But she wasn't artificial. She was real.

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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In one smooth motion, Annie's arms mimicked Artemius's and folded over him. She would attempt to slide her fingers into the trigger of his gun and lift her own arm in to the air, which would bring his along as well.

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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Now was when her acrobatics came into play. With a push of her toes, Annie was in the air, and used her hand on his shoulder to hold her in a stable position as she twisted his arm back around towards his chest with her finger still on the trigger of the man's own gun.

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Character Portrait: Annie MgGarthon (S.I.A.)

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With a grin, Annie watched his shot ricochet off of a nearby building. She had never been in front of him. Behind, yes, and now she was artfully balanced on his shoulder--but never in front. She wrenched his hand backwards, her finely-boned fingers curling over his gun, and did her best to get the barrel of it up against his chest. She pulled the trigger four times in rapid succession.