Personal Narrative Essay: Roulette

Roulette looked out on the city of Corinth, scanning the rooftops for signs of scouts. She let out a contented sigh and held up her bracelet to her lips.

"This is the grieving widow checking in. There are no known visible threats in quadrant four. I repeat no visible threats in quadrant four over." She continued watching her quadrant from the tallest building in her city. She was supposed to watch until dawn. The organization she worked for caught wind that terrorists who attacked Athens two weeks ago. Apparently they were making rounds on all the city-states. She yawned and looked at her watch. Thirteen more hours to go. She looked up again for her five minute check, Nothing.

“Grieving Widow from quadrant four...all clear. Over” She stood

Roulette snorted at her own thought. She looked up again and noticed someone on another roof. On a Restricted Building. “Grieving Widow from quadrant four we have suspicious activity on a restricted building northwest to north at roughly 3 o’clock, authorization to move in on the subject?”

“Grieving Widow you have permission to move in, request for backup.” A baritone voice responded

“Backup requested, i’m going in. I will send a flare if I need back up, going in to intercept the target.”

“Be safe, Roulette, I don’t...We don’t want one of our most experienced agents out of the

She landed lightly on the ground like a cat on all fours. Roulette stood up and looked up at the building she was just on seconds ago. Not one person would of made it from the top down unless they had some sort of special technology, but not even exo suits could survive that high. No, she had bionic legs and her right arm was completely metal. Some of her bones were even titanium. She had lost the limbs when she was captured in Sparta and tortured by having her legs chopped off. She grimaced at the thought and started scaling the tower with the unwanted visitor on it. One she reached about 3 quarters of the way to the top she silently cut a small piece of the window and slipped into the building. She made her way to the top opening the door quietly. No one was on the roof. Or so she thought.

“Well, Well, Well, look who we have here. The famous Grieving Widow…”

The voice was familiar to her. She reached for her flares slowly. “I wouldn’t do that. So much as touch your pocket and the whole street blows up, including the orphanage.” You could practically hear the sneer in the gruff voice.”Okay,” she said simply, “i’m going to turn around now.” She slowly turned around with her hands up, hoping to catch a glimpse of her assailant. Her breath caught in her throat. “You’re...Supposed to be dead...You died in Sparta.”