Post by D. Griffith on Jun 14, 2008 15:10:43 GMT -8
Darius sat stolidly behind an ornate mahogany desk. His office was sparsely, but comfortably furnished; potted plants, voodoo dolls, a fireplace, decorative fencing rapiers all covered the walls. (Yes, plants on the walls) His elbows rested lightly on the desk's surface, while his chin hovered extremely close to the pyramid of contemplation his hands had constructed. His dark eyes swept over his usual paraphernalia: a wide assortment of knives neatly stacked, a small Tupperware container filled to the brim with water, a rusty fork, a dynamite belt, a noose, large syringes containing 4 grams of sodium thiopental, a large pail of gasoline along with a matchbook, an ordinary comfy-looking pillow and to top it all off, Darius' own Magnum Research BFR.
The teacher's steel gray eyes peered out from behind his sunglasses, a look of complete focus. This school was full of delinquents and seemingly fucked up teenagers. With all the fighting, kidnapping, and other atrocities born from the current system, it was only a matter of time before someone showed up. Who would come?
The teacher's steel gray eyes peered out from behind his sunglasses, a look of complete focus. This school was full of delinquents and seemingly fucked up teenagers. With all the fighting, kidnapping, and other atrocities born from the current system, it was only a matter of time before someone showed up. Who would come?
