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[hider=Mission Equipment - Assault Type.]
[hider=Assault Rifle, Armor Penetrating Bullets.]
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[hider=Sidearm, Armor Penetrating Bullets.]
[img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c4/39/a2/c439a281d9366c6fca3cd536011d7ea1.jpg[/img]
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[color=00aeef][u][b]Tags -[/b][/u][/color] [@ShwiggityShwah][@Metronome][hr]

The debate concerning freedom is somewhat of a constant within the tower. Indeed, talk of rebellion is unacceptable, but philosophical conversations cannot be hindered, lest one hopes to squander personal development in the heroes themselves. Indeed, Miles often found himself at the butt of a question hinting towards his upbringing as a weapon. He had never known freedom, not like most. Created in a test tube, he was brought forth using science of the most maleficent kind, all to bring death and destruction to key targets. The perfect assassin, they called it. Yes, Miles had been part of the tower for the past twenty, full years. On the streets, he was called The Agent, given his repertoire of abilities. Of course, one should not expect that action figures of the boy sold very well. He wasn't one of the more flashy individuals. He could neither shoot beams from his hands, nor his eyes. He had other abilities at the ready, and one should never discard his vigilance. 

Yes, on the subject of action figures, fans were quite abundant for the heroes of New Horizon. Miles, or Shrike, had been quite curious of the matter and sometimes found himself delving into the more awkward forms with a soda in hand, and cat on his lap. Worthy of cringe, he could not help but read the fan fiction brought forth by these people of a mundane pursuit. The most recent update was pairing Wraith with Phoenix Dawn. Light and darkness, as it was. Unable to stifle his laughter at the sight, Miles cleared his throat, a set of slender fingers running through his cat's fur as he chose to forward the scene to his fellow heroes. Ironic, in a way. This quiet, mellow and withdrawn young assassin did not appear to be of the mischevious sort, no, not at all. Rather, it is as they say. Watch out for the quiet ones. 

[i]'This is wrong..,'[/i] Phoenix stated, feeling Wraith's hand tracing the length of the light bringer's arm, [i]'we can't do this...'[/i]

There was a short pause before Wraith spoke, [i]'then...,'[/i] the alien responded, [i]'I don't want to be right![/i] No more talk, before their lips brushed against the other's, and Miles' downed a heavy swig of his soda. 

[color=00aeef]"To be fair, it's better than the last one,"[/color] the boy stated, looking down to the cat playfully pawing at the keyboard of the mutant's laptop. He enjoyed sitting in his bed, being all but lazy in a pair of boxers, a soda in hand and fanfiction in front of him. Yes, he had come across some starring himself but they always tended towards the more typical variant. Shrike was portrayed as a shy, withdrawn young soldier, brought into the strong arms of another as a heavy blush coated his cheeks. It wasn't exactly wrong, but who wanted to read realism? 

Stretching his arms with a soft yawn escaping his lips, the mutant perked at the beeping sound emanating from his watch. He was being called. [color=00aeef]"Welp, time to work,"[/color] he closed the laptop before lifting Wraith, his cat, and dropped the furred critter back onto the bed. He proceeded to slip into his clothes, before making his way down the corridor and towards the briefing room. Giant animal robots? Well, at the very least, this job never got old. There was always a variation in those who wanted to bring disaster. What was this man's misery brought form? Was it a personal disappointment? Did he simply want to make a statement? Was it that he had been slighted by the government? Miles still recalled the man who brought forth absolute destruction because of a love affair. Indeed, people displayed conflict in varying ways, each one ending up at the tail end of Shrike's scope when endangering others. 

Dropping to a chair, the assassin hugged his knees where he sat, a common position for him, as he listened to the briefing. A sniper rifle would not do well in this scenario. One shot could never end this threat. He needed something with more rapid-fire, something for a war zone. That was where he was headed.