MissSoulfulPoetKat
The Dark Poetry Mistress
Mist Jones was walking down a random alleyway in her own country, dragging her spiked bat along the ground. Her usual monotone expression and baseball attire made others think she posed no threat. Oh how very wrong they were. She was more deadly than anyone knew. The world meeting was here, in New York instead of Washington DC, its usual place when held in America. The 1p and 2p countries had made an agreement to all come. No one knew what would happen with both parties in the same meeting room. Heck, even Mist hadn't a clue what would ensue. All she cared about was killing some time before arriving on time, unlike her two counterparts, Alfred and Amelia.