Disclaimer: All recognizable characters (the Benedict etc.) belong to Joss Stirling. Jimmy, Kira and Morgan and the plot belong to me.
Chapter One – Kira POV
Why are there always these boring conversations in ego-shooter games? Seriously, what is the point? Viktor Reznov hasn't said anything interesting to Alex Mason (aka me) yet so I might as well 'Pause' and get myself a coke. Coke, my elixir of life. My name is Kira Edgestone and I am in a permanent state of being hyperactive. I blame the Coke. I am also in a permanent of playing Call of Duty: Black Ops. For that, I blame my utterly handsome and amazing fiancé who is so busy making money that he is hardly at home. I found Morgan, my soulfinder, when I was 15 years old, shortly after my parents died in a house fire. And he's been my angel ever since. Sometimes he can be quite a killjoy especially when I first introduced him to the world of Xbox and PlayStation but he compensates for it with his amazing cooking skills, his very good-looking face and his general awesomeness.
Unfortunately, he's not that awesome that he'll be home for my birthday tomorrow. He's some business trip about Savant business but I have no idea what he actually does. Feeling quite as if I'm wallowing in self-pity, I decide to go down to Jimmy's Game Store and stock up for my birthday, which this year I'll have to spend on my own. The sun's already setting and is bathing the streets of Manhattan in a beautiful shade of yellow-orange-red. My mood starts to lift slightly as I see the cheap, neon-lights stating that I've reached Jimmy's infamous kingdom of games and computer equipment. I've known Jimmy for years and rely on him to recommend only the best of the best.
As I enter the store, I feel at home. Here is where I'm an expert, here's is where I know things and people. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see a tall figure rummaging around the shelves. As I look closer, I see that it is a guy, probably around my age, with short, dark brown hair. His Hispanic-looking face is contorted in utmost concentration as he effortlessly reaches up to get something of the highest shelf. He turns around suddenly, as if he felt my eyes on him, and when my brown eyes meet his grey ones, I can't help but just think (despite having found the love of my life 8 years ago) "Damn, he's hot!" And I don't even feel guilty about it.