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With the sound of the air whoosing past and the creak from the branch it gave barely enough warning to Lucid's ever-ready ears, he swung around bringing his blade up from its sheath in a smooth drawing action, he then fluidly brought the blade between himself and his would-be assasin. The metal rang loudly as they clashed together, with a minor switch of his wrist position, Lucid side-stepped the now falling assasin and quickly brought the hilt of his blade around to crash loudly against the base of the skull of his falling foe.

Gear's critique: Nice work. The idea is there, and it goes well, but you have sentences that are difficult to read because of bad flow, spelling and grammar.

Rank: Charlie

That's two finished.

And verily, I sayeth, it hath been done.

Roger was out on a relaxing walk to calm his senses and morale after an extensive period of training. As Roger kept walking, he noticed the light cracking sound of a tree branch as an assassin had dropped downward above him, about to strike.

Immediately, Roger pounced back to evade the assassin's attack, but took a slash to his arm, for being moderately exhausted from his recent training. Sweat ran from his neck, letting him know that this fight would be difficult to win, so he tried to get out of it a different way.

*takes off visor to reveal his orange glowing eyes, which most people fear*
Roger had hoped to at least scare his opponent if not, lower his morale and make the fight easier. The assassin spoke,Those eyes, I've heard a lot about you." " Who told you about me?" Roger responds.

Gear's critique: You guys have got to start reading each other's critiques before you post. For starters, asterisks (*) are never acceptable for actions. Secondly, you're the third person to puppet my NPC, controlling what he does. Your writing is solid however, and if there was a rank between Charlie and Bravo, you'd have it. But seeing as there isn't...

Rank: Charlie

Sony walked down the path happily enjoying the nice breeze. He had just completed a tense mission and needed the relaxation of his surroundings. The calming breeze touched the swaying trees, causing leaves to depart from their safe havens. Everything was at peace, just the way he wanted.

Sony continued with his eyes closed, imagining himself walking through a field of sunflowers, absorbing all that nature had to offer. The blend of light colors, the simple smell of the flowers, the sound of the wind, the feel of the soft dirt beneath his feet and the taste of fresh air. "If only I can bottle this up, I could make millions....too bad." He thought laughing to himself.

As he passed a large Oak tree, Sony stopped and put his hand on the tree as if something had forced him to touch it. He then closed his eyes as he felt a chilling breeze. Suddenly a branch creaked above him and Sony spoke at once. "Wanna see a trick?" Sony asked with a large smile as the assassin came into clear view. "I'll make that blade of yours disappear."

The assassin had jumped off the branch, giving him a large amount of momentum. With seconds before the blade cut Sony down, Sony analyzed his opponent with blinding speed. "He looks light.....about 180 lbs., gripping the hilt pretty tight and its right in front of his sternum...perfect." He thought as he swung his leg back, sending him into a backflip as the assassin landed, missing Sony by inches.

Before the assassin could react Sony was already on the way back, swinging his legs with incredible force into the assassin's back. The blow pushed the assassin's chest into his sword hilt, piercing the ground beneath him until he was on his chest with the blade completely buried. "Tadaa. Thank you and come again." Sony said to the knocked out assassin.

Gear's critique: AAAHHH! No, Bboy! Bad! Bad!

Seriously, your post was ALMOST perfect. But you autohit the bad guy. Bad! Otherwise, your post was excellent. Next test you should make alpha.

Rank: Bravo

James walked along the park path, smiling. It was a perfect day, cool and crisp, the air still, not a single chilling breeze. He watched the ground, looking at the various animals of the park as they ran past - which managed to save his life. Right as he passed the tree, he spotted the shadow of its branches suddenly shift and shake. He threw himself into a roll, feeling a blade nick the back of his leg and realizing what must have happened. He came out of the roll, wobbling a little. That's not good... Attacked by a nut job with a sword and now my leg is injured...

He turned to face his attacker and slowly drew his own sword, his leg fighting to go down and take off the pressure the entire time. Finally he let it, going to one knee and smiling. He had only one shot. He pulled the sword back, close to his body, doing his best to hide the length of it. His only chance was for the assassin to close in enough for him to make a single, leaping strike... And the only way he'd get that chance is if his enemy didn't realize just how far he could reach, even on his damaged leg.

Gear's critique: I'm impressed. Concise and to the point, yet detailed enough to make it a good read. You followed the AMP, I don't see any spelling/grammar errors save for a slight/borderline run-on sentence in the beginning, and your reaction and plan are spot-on.

You all are making me so proud! *sniff*

Rank: Alpha

The man sat in the tree, waiting for his unsuspecting prey to pass by. ((That would be you.)) Just as the man/woman stepped onto the path, his eyes narrowed, ready to strike. Soundlessly, the assassin tightened his fist around the blade he was holding. A single strike would split the target's head right open, so he just had to make sure his single strike didn't miss.
This was his chance. The target was directly beneath him. With only the sound of the branch moving as a giveaway, the assassin dropped straight downwards, holding the sword firmly. Continuing at this rate, the target's entire body would be split down the middle, and his mission would be complete.
*************************************************************
Appearing to need a small breather from her brisk, long morning walk through the rolling plains that comprise the terrain of her home, Alida moves towards a likely looking maple tree that will shelter her from autumnal winds that carry hints of winter's chill with them upon occasional gusts which make slowly dying leave shift and rattle on their branches. Darker, clear green eyes flick like switchblades all around in three dimensions to keep tabs on her environment, even out here in the relative peace outside of the city: a healthy hint of 'paranoia' having served the femme quite well in the past. But even in her understated civvie attire, the quiet blonde's well-deserved reputation precedes her; vis-a-vis that unknown assassin in said tree, awaiting her in cover and silence.
Genetically crafted, enhanced senses aren't what alerts her this time as she nears her destination, but that 'delightful' feeling of hairs rising upon the nape of her neck...the warning from the gut that something's off here, and likely means no good for her. With a canniness borne of decades of training and hard, oft-times cruel experience, the black duster-clad woman doesn't let on that she's been alerted by her sixth sense, her visage a cool but apparently untroubled one as she pads along on s**t-kicker boots toward what's intended to be the sight of her last breath. Beneath that voluminous coat - ready to be freed with a jerk that would tear away velcro seals - lurk a few of the tools of her trade - Benelli semi-auto/pump-action shotgun, gauss rifle/grenade launcher, and many other secreted things - but even her hyped-up reflexes don't have enough time to free either up in time. Nor does the cold woman want to alert that assassin. After all, he'd likely be sent after her again if he missed or was discovered, and she certain doesn't want a repeat of this unwise little scene happening again.
Subtly wired like a spring beneath her long coat, ready for anything, the hard-featured woman stretches, sighs, and continues her facade of ignorance as she finally putters to a halt beneath the only tree around for a thousand yards. Almost as soon as combat-booted steps cease, and she's verifiably still, the attack comes... with that rattle of dying leaves preceding it, allowing 'lida to home in with her enhanced senses on where that attack will be coming from...just before it occurs.
Straight down the assassin vaults from 15 feet above...and with equal alacrity, the mercenary darts, ducks, and pivots out of the way, nothing but air and the flap of her long braid's end lashing at the place the woman once occupied. Halfway through his skull-splitting leap of intent, the darkly clad figure realizes he's been found out. Gravity affects everyone to at least some extent, though, and his controlled fall continues to a four-limbed landing upon the cool ground, even as his erstwhile target has already ripped her long coat open to reveal what's beneath...what's now in her more-than-capable hand and pointed at him even as he tries to roll aside from his harsh landing, seeking escape. Not the crystal-hilted sword at her weapon-belted hip, nor the still hidden pair of bigger ordnance at her back...but a big, blue-steeled mutha of a Colt Python: the sidearm's steely surface engraved with indelible little runes everywhere but at ivory butt.
She waits for that roll away to transition into an inevitable scurry up to feet on the assassin's part, the woman all hard and cold intent and thrumming, pent up reactions at this point. Gun divided by apparently normal sword equals rather lopsided battle, and the assassin knows it, already trying to employ his own smokescreen tactics to escape - one black-gloved hand jerking something out of one of his own beltpouches to cast it at his feet before running.
Just a little too late, for him. By the time he's opening up that pouch, she's already clipped off two shots, their telltale, loud 'CRACKs!' shattering the near-silence of the country air all about. It's not bullets that emerge from the altered Python's muzzle, but two discharges of pure energy - blue-white plasma screaming over the air, leaving behind the scent of ozone, a faint hint of heat that's instantly dispersed by cool air - and the body of one now very shot assassin, who bears a pair of smoking holes through upper, left chest as the violence of those energy discharges slap his form to the ground. He's still in the process of dying when the cautious, jacked-up blonde lifts her pistol once again, mutters off in a tight alto to his writhing, shifting form, "Never bring a knife t'a gun fight, idiot..." then placing her third shot right between the eyes, the energy shot exploding out the back of his skull with a wider exit hole, while splattering his medulla into shreds, thusly instantly severing any reflexive actions his body might go through in death.
Blood decorating the ground in liberal, growing little pools as the woman finally moves in close enough to toe at her erstwhile foe's still corpse, Alida still keeps her pistol unholstered, even while right hand draws her sword in a quick, economical motion from rune-etched scabbard at left hip. A few more, and much more brutal motions of her leg and foot kick the dead b*****d in the ribs, genitals to make VERY sure he's not playing possum, and then the woman flicks her gaze all about her out of near-reflexive habit, finally re-holstering her piece so she can pluck out some palm device from within an inner coat pocket, press at a couple buttons upon the little thing. A quick pivot in a 360 degree arc allows for a scan of the area, which is soon reported back by her device as being free of all energy signatures besides plant matter, her own form, and that of the dead assassin's, and finally she'll allow herself the small token of slight relaxation, signaled by a shallow sigh.
Back into her inner, breast pocket that device is stowed in secure fashion, 'lida bending down - trying to avoid the blood of her foe spreading upon the ground - even as her sword-bearing hand swipes a curt and cruel motion to sever the hooded man's head from his body like it was paper. The grisly token of proof is soon stuffed into a thick, plastic baggie she fishes out from within a beltpouch - tied tightly shut - the merc then wiping off her barely bloodied blade on the body's clothing, re-sheathing it in scabbard with a soft, crisp 'sniiCK.' Another quick look around the area, and the woman will set in on pawing through the corpse's clothing, even his once-dwelling place within that tree, for clues at to who he might've been, and more importantly, who SENT him, then leave the body behind as she makes her way back towards...not her false home, but her safehouse...her TRUE dwelling, reachable only by a personal teleportation device once she's in the proper area. Never leave a traceable path.
Just before padding off, Alida's clipped alto again intones only to herself, "Well-well, looks like we're gonna have ta do a deep scan 'n ID on ya, sugar..." to the bagged head dangling from her left hand, a vague hint of a death's head smile tipping one corner of her lips for a moment before fading into harsh chill again. "Yer' gonna be a nice lil' C.O.D t'whoever sent'cha t'snuff me."

Gear's critique: Oi, I felt like I was reading Shakespeare! You write well, definitely. You're great at description, and I really felt like I was there. BUT you made one extremely fatal flaw; you puppeteered my assassin. You are SO close to alpha. Review the Anti-munch project, and you'll be golden.

Rank: Bravo