The Pilot

Title: The Pilot
Author: SilverInk
Writing: Short Story/ character background
Word Count: 517
Warning: Profanity. 

“Look here, I’m only here to get you to wherever the hell you need to go and help you finish the damn mission,” the pilot snapped at the passenger behind him as the small craft wove through the air, gaining altitude. “So unless you have questions, shut up.”

“Maybe you should, Wen,” the assassin snarled back, leaning forward. “Technically I could report you as disrespecting your elders”

“Yeah? Well technically I could crash this piece of shit.”

“You’d die too,” the teenager laughed, leaning back.

“Want to bet?”

The other was silent.

“Thought so,” Wen muttered as he made a sharp turn left.

---

My name wasn’t always just Wen. But I’ve forgotten my real name anyways, so it’s good as anything.

I was abducted when I was four, from Ireland. All I remember is that I was getting milk for someone—I think her name was Mrs. Samson, but I can’t be sure—when a man in a dark suit hopped out of a helicopter and picked me up. He neutralized me with a shot and when I next woke up, I was lying in a barrack in China, filled with kids not much older than me.

I guess Mrs. Samson didn’t get her milk.

They didn’t ask me for a name, but I made one up anyways. Quick thinking, yes, that was it. Some kid had told me about a “ dark gathering of waters” and I translated it—the first word in Irish, the second part in French: Wisconsin Tynan.

Most of the kids couldn’t pronounce Wisconsin. So I used the Chinese word for culture: Wen.

I was flown around in planes, to learn to be an assassin. Now I fly those planes, to take assassins to their mission locations.

---

“You can wake up now,” the pilot called, landing the tiny craft in a field behind a hill. He waited a moment before cutting the engine and hoping out of his seat to the back. “Oi. Up.”

The passenger opened his eyes and glared at the kid pilot.

“I’ll keep in touch via the glasses,” the pilot said, pointing at the dark glasses tucked in the assassin’s pocket.

“Where’s the target?”

Wisconsin leapt back over the seat and into the cockpit. He brought up a series of maps and charts and files. “Got it. I’ll wire you a map.”

The assassin nodded and flung himself stealthily out of the craft. He put on his glasses and grabbed a hoverboard. “Thanks. See you later,” he said,  flying towards the city.

Turning off the screens, Wisconsin started the craft again and flew to a more hidden location before checking back in.

---

I don’t get paid much. I get my life, three meals a day, what I need for my missions, a blanket, and a pillow. During my time off, I like to fiddle with warships and hack whatever I can get my hands on.  Of course, I don’t always have something to fiddle with or hack. Those times, I practice my aim. The recoil on most guns throws me off a bit.

I’m 12.

Artist's Note: This week's post, a bit late, sorry

He's a new character i thought up only today for a roleplay and was inspired to write something short. It isn't as complete as I thought or hoped, but I think its...ok. 

Regarding the mini-poll, please post your opinions and stuff on the post itself. :)


EDIT: "Wisconsin" means "Gathering of waters" in French (derived from a Native American word though) and "Tynan" means "Dark" in Irish. So it's a bit reversed :p


~SilverInk