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Prototype Girls Ep 7EPISODE SEVEN: MORPHEOUS SQUADRON UNITE
Cruising at a barnstorming 2,000 feet, Amy the Apache helicopter was flying east in the southwestern desert. The landscape was passing by during the smooth flight.
"Amy, how would you like to trade forms?" Hailey asked.
"Are you kidding? I'm not passing this up for anything!" Amy exclaimed.
"Slow down, we're coming up on the checkpoint," Mindy said, bringing the excitement of the ride to a lower fever.
"Where?" Amy asked.
"About... a hundred meters southeast of here," Mindy checked the GPS unit.
Hailey gazed towards the ground, seeing a slow moving but clear river. "Are you sure?"
"What do you mean? Whoa!" Amy gasped, now realizing there was a river beneath her. "How long's that river been there?"
"I don't know..." Mindy paused, "But that's where the checkpoint is."
"Okay. Where's the next one?" Cici called from the back seating.
Mindy pressed a few buttons on t
Prototype Girls Ep 6EPISODE SIX: MORPHEOUS SQUADRON UNITE
The four young women gazed around the hanger they had entered as the Cessna 402C that delivered them departed the runway. Seemingly no larger than any normal hanger, it was devoid of most anything except for a large stock of wooden crates all labeled with CIA insignias and other various government codes.
The walk inside had been uneventful, as there were no other main structures but a series of foundations and ruins where barracks or other buildings, including a flight control tower, had once stood. The terrain was that of the high plateau, arid and dry. Even though it was still early in the morning, the sky seemed to have a soft haze around the edge of their panarama across the dusty dunes in the distance.
"Stand at attention!" Commander Rebecca Grimes ordered, bringing the women to a startling stance.
All four complied, directing their attention to the tall white haired woman.
"Good morning, al
1420 MHzHe keeps a list wadded in the depths of his front, left pocket: where he holds his keys, and the forgotten/abandoned shell of a lone pistachio. The list is his biography, written in the shape of Argentine Spanish:
Me gustan los tomates en verano.
Yo amo a mi novio.
Nos besamos. (Mi novio chupa mis dedos de los pies.)
Las estrellas cantan sus canciones.
Mi nombre no es Eduardo.
Vivo con Jacobi ahora.
His pants are wadded, now, on summer-warmed hardwood; his shirt is draped over the back of a cane-back chair, the most incongruous of antiques in Jacobi’s tech-nerd lair. Headphones clamp his ears, and fill his head with the lisping whisper of interstellar hydrogen, broadcasting itself at a neat 1420 MHz. Bedroom is the wrong word for a place like this, despite the sorts of furnishings one might expect. There is a bed, a dresser, a bookshelf and two nightstands cramped with magazines, graphic novels. An alarm clock
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More