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This is a work of fiction. Thriller. Chapter One.

An assassin is abducted, placed in a van, and taken to an airport for be placed through the first round of testing.

Sphinx is an African-American woman in her early 30's
Archer is an African-American male (30's)
Deacon is half black, half Asian (30's)
Greer is Caucasian (30's) 
2012-05-04 12:03:48 GMT
2012-05-18 11:00:00 (GMT -05:00) Eastern Time (US & Canada) 
Yes (click here to learn more about Voice123's SmartCast)
0 direct invitation(s) have been sent by the voice seeker resulting in 0 audition(s) and/or proposal(s) so far.
Voice123 SmartCast is seeking 50 auditions and/or proposals for this project (approx.) Invitations sent by SmartCast have resulted in 0 audition(s) and/or proposal(s) so far.

Project Parameters

The Voice Actor should be located in:
Student or Non-for-profit student project - USD 100
4 pages
English - USA and Canada
Sphinx (female), Archer (male), Deacon (male), Greer (female)
Young Adult Female OR Middle Age Female
• Audio files must be delivered via email OR
• Audio files must be delivered via FTP/Dropbox/Google Drive/cloud
• Deliver edited and finished voice tracks
Not defined
The voice seeker is willing to hire either union or non-union talents for this project

Script Details

Sphinx is an African-American woman in her early 30's
Archer is an African-American male (30's)
Deacon is half black, half Asian (30's)
Greer is Caucasian (30's) 
Chapter One

Maybe six-two, strongly built, mid-thirties, brown-skinned and handsome, he spoke as if he knew me. His easy-going voice was almost hypnotic. Most of his questions had been regarding my health, and he kept things very professional, However, I’d noticed his gaze occasionally took in my body. There was no wedding ring on his finger. Not sure it would have mattered if he had one. My body was on automatic, reacting to his looks and sexy voice, but my mind was on something else entirely. I couldn’t remember my name or why I had awoke in a morgue.
There was a second man in back of the van with us. Like me, he hadn’t said a word in the past two hours. He looked mixed, half black and half Asian. He wasn’t a bad looker, but he had this standoffish energy surrounding him. In contrast to the talker, he was short, perhaps five-eight or nine. Thinly built, I could tell that under his loose fitting black shirt, his physique was muscular like Bruce Lee’s used to be. From time to time, his green eyes would connect with mine. There was nothing sexual in his stare. It was like he thought I could be dangerous. One hand was always at his side. I suspected that a blade waited there, ready to cut into my flesh. He was probably right to hold on to it. Ever since they pulled me off the street and into the van, I’d done nothing but calculate how many ways I could incapacitate them.
Bruce Lee cracked a thin smile as if reading my thoughts, daring me to make my move. I held back, because neither man had threatened or tried to harm me. Besides, they seemed to know who I was, though the talkative one had yet to say a name. If his voice wasn’t so sexy and he wasn’t a looker, I might have screamed at him to shut the fuck up.
“I know you’re disorientated and probably a little nervous by now…” he was saying.
I was disorientated. My head was pounding like a sledgehammer had been taken to it. But the strange thing was—I wasn’t the least bit nervous. I woke the fuck up in the freezer of a morgue, with no memory of who I was or how I got there, and I wasn’t scare. That poor attendant at the morgue practically wet his pants when he saw me rising up from that meat locker.
I reigned in my thoughts and focused on the talker.
“It’s only natural that you feel mistrust toward my friend here and I. But I need you to answer my questions for your own sake--”
I felt my eyes narrowing. “Was that a threat?”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Ah, so you can speak.”
“Was that a threat?” In my peripheral, I noticed the muscles in Bruce Lee’s neck bulge as he waited for me to finally make my move.
“Not at all,” the talkative one assured me. “I was referring to a health risk from your head trauma, or perhaps a reaction from the drugs that were used on you to simulate your death.”
My full attention went to the talker. “My death was faked?”
He let out an exhaustive breath and looked as if he was collecting his thoughts. “Okay. You were technically dead for a short time, but you came back. Someone high up in my agency thought you might be useful and decided that it was important you remained dead…” He paused giving me time to absorb what he was saying.
I wanted to interrupt and question him about this agency of his, but for the time being that could wait.
He continued. “Those who were aware that you lived, were sequestered until my agency was assured they understood they were to talk to no one about you. You were then injected with certain chemicals that made you appear dead. Unfortunately, the affects wore off a little sooner than anticipated and you woke up in the morgue. My team barely made it there, when you were spotted staggering out.”
My head ached even more. “What makes me so important, that your agency would go through all this shit?”
“Because you’re one of the very best at what you do,” he answered.
“And what’s that exactly?”
“Killing people,” he said matter-of-factly. “You kill people for a living.”
I laughed. “Are you saying I’m a contract killer?”
“You were, but not anymore.”
“Then what am I now?”
“Oh you’re still an assassin. But now you’re no longer freelance. You’re working for the United States government.”
“I’m finding this shit hard to swallow. As far as I know, you two might have used some date-rape drug on me after we met in a club. You stick me inside a van with no windows. You drive for hours asking me all kinds of shit. And now you want me to believe I’m an assassin, who has been recruited to work for the government. Bullshit.”
“Once the drugs are fully out of your system, your memory will return. Then we’ll see if you still think this is bullshit.”
I was about ready to snap his neck, but I still had more questions to be answered. “Who are you?”
“I’m Archer.” The talker motioned his head toward the shorter man. “That’s Deacon.”
“Who am I?”
Archer leaned forward. “That hasn’t been determined yet. I guess that’s going to depend on if you pass all the tests. For now, you’re a blank slate with no identity.”
I reworded my question. “Who was I?”
“The one you went by… the one that was most important to you was Tease. But you can never go back to using that name. It’s as dead as the world believes you are.”
Tease. It felt familiar, but I didn’t recognize it. I looked at Deacon and then back to Archer. “Is this how you recruit all your members? By drugging and kidnapping them?”
“Would you have rather let the police arrest you? If we hadn’t done what we did, you would be serving either a life sentence or be waiting for that court decreed lethal injection. Understand this. You have done some horrible things, things that would turn the stomach of most people and worst of all—you liked it.”
“So I’m a monster?”
“Yes, indeed you are.”
“Why in God’s name would the government want to recruit someone like me?”
“Because we need monsters on our team. There are those who are much crueler than either you or I in the world. They prey on the helpless and affect things on a global level. People like you, me…” Archer indicated Deacon with his eyes, “And him are needed to rid the world of those people.”
The van came to a complete stop. The driver craned his neck to look over his shoulder. “We’re here.”
Archer reached over and gently took me by the arm. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay? I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
I said nothing.
He grinned. “And just for the record. That time, I was making a threat.”
The rear doors flew open. Noises of the outside world exploded into life—most likely because of the drugs in my system, I hadn’t noticed until then that sound had been dampened with the van’s doors closed.
Men dressed in black fatigues and carrying side arms waved for us to get out. Archer pulled on my arm. I didn’t resist, letting him guide me out. The warm breeze and fresh air did wonders to clear some of the cobwebs from my mind. The name Tease sounded more natural to me. Memories of my former employer flooded my mind—D-Shroud, a criminal kingpin, who had visions of grandeur.
We stood on the tarmac of an airfield and I was being pulled toward a helicopter. I glanced at Archer. “We drove two hours just to get to an airport? Why didn’t we fly from where we were?”
“Your face,” Archer said. “It’s pretty messed up. You took a bad beating from your old boss. Because of that, you would have stood out. We needed to take you from a place, less public, with people that work for the agency.”
“This agency of yours… what is it called?”
“We don’t have an official name. And you won’t need to know the unofficial one until after you’ve passed your training.”
“What kind of training?”
“Like I said earlier, you’re one of the best at what you do. The agency will instruct you on how to be better.”
Archer shoved me inside the helicopter, but didn’t join me. Deacon was already seated across from me, along with a beautiful Caucasian woman wearing a uniform like the guards who ordered us out the van. When the hatch door closed, she spoke inside a headset. The helicopter lifted into the air. A red light filled the cabin.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Greer,” she answered, offering nothing more.
After several minutes of silence, Greer received a message from the pilot over her headset that I couldn’t hear. She looked at me, grinned and then at Deacon. “We’re ready.”
In a flash, Deacon had a pistol in his hand which he pointed at me. “Get up,” he commanded in a voice that left no room for argument. I obeyed him with no objections.
Greer got up as well and opened the hatch door all the way. She held on to a harness and looked into the blackness outside. “We’re about two miles up just about now.”
I said nothing and was getting serious bad vibes from my hosts.
“Will you step over here, please?” Greer asked politely, glancing toward me.
I gave Deacon and his pistol a scathing look. His cold hard stare told me he would have absolutely no problem putting me down. I’m sure he knew firing a gun inside a helicopter was a bad thing, but that was only if he missed. Deacon didn’t give me the impression that he ever missed. So I stepped up to the door, joining Greer.
“What’s this about?” I asked.
I had a sinking feeling that Archer had lied to me earlier. The two-hour drive wasn’t to hide me from the public. It was to take me someplace secluded where my body wouldn’t be found for a long time.
“It’s about test number one,” Greer answered.
Deacon’s kick was swift, striking me squarely in the back. I flew out the open hatch door and into the empty blackness of the night, two miles above the ground. 
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