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       #Post#: 70--------------------------------------------------
       Christian Knox: Mini-RP - Assignment #3
       By: Shane Date: September 2, 2018, 4:59 am
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       Date: December 8th, 2199
       Location: Denver, Colorado
       Awakening at around 2:28 PM, Chris found himself on the edge of
       his couch, next to a deep purple bra, during what appeared to be
       a blizzard occurring outside his home. The window of his living
       room being covered halfway with snow, the other half only have
       snowflakes sticking to it along with little droplets of water.
       Chris arose from his couch, slightly staggering as he grabbed
       hold of his head, crouching back down to catch himself on his
       coffee table using his right arm.
       “Ugh..My head is **** POUNDING..” He said, lightly slamming the
       table with his right hand clenched.
       Slowly pushing himself upward, he found himself squinting, his
       TV showing what would essentially be the main menu of Netflix,
       showcasing multiple shows. He’d make his way into the kitchen,
       making sure to avoid the light switch due to his current
       sensitivity to light as he reached into a nearby cabinet,
       pulling out a small bottle of painkillers from his medipac.
       Opening it, he’d pour out at least 4 pills into his palm before
       reaching for a glass sitting upside down on some sort of mat
       near the sink, in which he filled with water before tossing the
       pills into his mouth, swallowing, only to chase them down with
       his glass of water..
       Slamming the cup back on to the mat, Chris gripped the bridge of
       his nose as he leaned against the counter, the constant pounding
       getting to him, though it slowly settled for a few moments.
       Exhaling heavily, he stood up straight, scratching his stummy
       whilst wandering over to the fridge, opening it and peering
       inside. A nearly empty gallon of milk, 3 eggs residing in a box
       compartment on the fridge door, at least 2 pre-made sausage
       links, and a pot of some sort of beef stew.
       Clicking his tongue, he closed the fridge, stepping back into
       his living room and reaching to the ground, picking up a magenta
       t-shirt and putting it on, slightly warming up his bare torso.
       Seeing how today was essentially another day off, Chris wore his
       winter boots and walked outside towards his mailbox, retrieving
       its contents and making his way back into his house. Stomping
       off the snow, he’d sit back on the couch, flipping through the
       small stack.
       “Junk, junk, junk, college junk, aaaaand oh boy, a letter from
       HQ.” He said to himself, albeit sarcastically enthusiastic,
       whilst ripping open the envelope with his finger, extracting its
       contents and reading whatever had been inside.
       It read: PHASAR High Command gave you an assignment to watch
       over the rising presence that is the Collective in Moscow. The
       mission is free-form, you are allowed to do what you wish with
       the organization. However, you must report back to the
       higher-ups. You are the only one to infiltrate it, as PHASAR is
       already dealing with strong-presence terrorists all over
       Eurasia. You're number is 009. Agent 009.  All information you
       learn on the collective will return to PHASAR. Understood?
       It seemed to lack a signature at the bottom, likely for a good
       reason. Sighing as he slumped further into the couch, Chris let
       out a heavy sigh. “Moscow..Seriously? Sure, I intended to travel
       there sooner or later myself, but with work added on it, it’s
       waaaaay different.” Balling up the paper as he spoke, tossing it
       on to the nearby coffee table. He placed a pillow over his face
       as he groaned, speaking from behind it. “I should probably call
       Ma’ and my friends..Fill ‘em in on having to move due to
       ‘business’.” He arose once more, the pillow landing on the
       ground as he grabbed his cellular phone along the way, walking
       into the kitchen as he ran his free-hand through his hair.
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