Outcast Squad RP (Chapter 1)

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Re: Outcast Squad RP (Chapter 1)

Postby Reed R Gale on Fri Nov 04, 2011 12:25 am

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-_Day -2_-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Haley woke up with a horrible headache. Maybe it was because she had tried so hard to remember but then again maybe not. Maybe it was simply a headache. She saw that her candle had burned out while she had slept, she had forgotten to put it out before she had slept, but she probably had no use for it anymore anyway.

It was then when she remember what it was to be hungry. The familiar pang, not serious, but a reminder that she needed to eat to keep functioning. Pulling herself out of the bed which her body had grown accustomed to during her rest, she put her feet to the cold floor she prepared for the day.

She went downstairs after having done stretches that felt like the natural thing to do after getting up and saw the bucktoothed innkeeper staring at a newspaper. Once downstairs, the first thing Haley noticed was the lack of people at the inn, in fact, she was the only one save for the innkeeper. Turning her attention back to the man, what came to mind when reading the title of the paper he was glancing at was "biased". She didn't know why. The man put the paper down momentarily and said, "Aye, you awake missy? Hungr' are ya?"

She nodded, and he went into another back room and came back with a loaf of bread. A feast for kings. She didn't complain though, and sat at the closest table while she listened to the beaver blab about what he had read. She listened intently, even though she knew it was probably the most twisted information that she could receive. Though how had she known that?

"Well missy, did ya hear 'bout the rise in tha little ryu-neko pop? Them little rats ah' gonna covah the tha whole freakin' plane' soon. 'Ell, I 'erd one o' tha fellas grew ta' be tha' size 'a' 'a freakin' house! Can ya belave it?" She nodded politely while gnawing on some of the bread. It had turned out that it was as hard as a rock. Hospitality, at it's finest. The man continued on. "And tha' gal, ya know, its awl 'roun town, the one tha broke the Powah Infraction laws?" Laws? What laws? And what powers?

Haley stopped chiseling at the bread and immediately the gun came to her mind. That was a power? She almost summoned the gun to her hand again, but her better judgement kicked in and she focused her attention on the man's speech again. If she thought about it, she wouldn't be in control anymore, and it was best to avoid that.

"Well I 'ear many people simpatize wit 'er! How cud that be? She blatantleh broke da law. I fink she shuld get it worse, this is tha uldest law after awl." So using powers was breaking the law? Thank god no one was around when she used hers. Or was anybody? No, seeing as this little infraction was on this newspaper to be twisted, then her's definitely hadn't been seen. Otherwise it would be all around... Anduruna? Anduruna by now.

By now she had realized the bread was more likely to be used in construction than consumption and threw it in the closest waste bin, even though it looked to not have been cleaned within the past few weeks. "I'm done here." She said quickly, and left, hearing a faint call to her, "Ya come back 'ere if ya evah need ah place ta bunk, remember, I've got the..." She was no longer in earshot. The first thing she needed to do was get food.

While searching however, she first found a small shop that sold something familiar sounding called data scrolls. She walked in and purchased one, and upon hearing her stomach growl and a short blush, the storekeeper, a young man, laughed and pointed her in the direction of a eatery.

It served mainly fish. After eating her fill, she learned to use the data scroll. There were games, non of which she found any interest in, there was a text editor. Useful. She dotted down some things:

Diary 1:
Woke up on beach. After being overcome by odd suicidal urges brought upon by what I believe is my power, I found out my name was Haley Farris, I don't know anything other than that I'm at a district called Margate and if the worst possible situation comes up I can stay there. Note that the innkeeper seems rather shady.

She put her data scroll down to take a sip of water when she accidentally knocked the data scroll off the table. Damn. Luckily, the thing was unharmed, however she noticed an odd shifting under her shirt that moved back to her chest when she sat back up. Moving her turtleneck out of the way, she saw that she had on a golden necklace. Taking it out, she felt that no one else should see it and turned away, facing the wall.

She looked at the odd gold symbol and felt its importance if nothing more, and put it back under her shirt so it wouldn't be detected by anyone.
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Re: Outcast Squad RP (Chapter 1)

Postby Mileau on Sat Nov 05, 2011 5:17 pm

--Mid-morning, Day -1, Kittim--

"This is just wrong."

After the scene he had caused at Sabbaton the previous morning, Mileau had found himself simply too disgusted to spend the day running around the city, and had opted to head straight home and waste the rest of the day playing with his data scroll. Morning found him doing much the same, sitting at the end of his bed, Mikado having made himself comfortable on his pillow. Yet, though this was his usual way of unwinding, he found it couldn't get that article off his mind.

"It's just sick, the hypocrisy. Anduruna's become everything Serapeum was. This kind of crap is exactly why so many Serapeans deserted after the seige... thank the Spirits HE did... or I wouldn't be around to..."

...to do what? Mope?

He closed the data scroll and fell back onto the bed with a groan. "What am I supposed to do, Mik?" he sighed. Rolling onto his side, he propped up his head in one hand as he looked to his friend for some kind of guidance. His red halo flickered to life as he continued, "I mean, I want to do more than make some pretty music that just makes people forget the problem for a while rather than do anything to fix it. I want do something real, for people like that girl... but I'm just one man. I can't make those bureaucrats do anything. I feel like I'll go crazy if I just sit back and watch them choke the life out of this city."

For once, his power proved unnecessary in extracting a response from the ryuu. Having stared rather blankly at Mileau throughout his monologue, Mikado now turned to the tiny nightstand beside the bed. Following his gaze, Mileau's eyes fell on a small pouch, containing a respectable amount of lucre earned from his impromptu concert the previous morning.

An idea began to form in his head.

"Alright," he began, letting his halo fade as he jumped to his feet, "Why dont we head out to Margate and hit the market, see if we can't find something decent to spend our spoils on." He turned back to Mikado, rubbing his chin. "And we'll see just what people think of this little incident that's all over the news by now." He held his arm out toward the ryuu and smiled. "You want to come? You know I wont make you." Mikado took his time for a long, lazy yawn and stretch before jumping to his forearm and climbing up to take his usual spot around his neck. Grinning at his partner,he rushed to gather the coin pouch and his coat and hat from the chair at his desk, and soon enough the two were headed for the door.

"Mom, I'm going out to the market! Mikado's with me! Should be back in a couple hours!"
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Re: Outcast Squad RP (Chapter 1)

Postby Silver Predator Wolf on Sun Nov 06, 2011 11:44 am

Day -1 0500 hours
Pathogen made it a point to take only one mission a day. Not only did it lower the number of enemies he made, but at the same time helped him avoid over-exertion. In a game where quick reflexes and precision strikes were essential to survive, exhaustion was deadly. Pathogen usually spent his free time hunting game to perfect his aim, reading about the art of killing, or in his bio-stasis chamber resting. However, today was different. Today, there was a knock on his door.

His carelessness had not gone unnoticed. His superiors knew what had happened, as always. Of course, there was no one there. But then again, there never was.

A small metal orb, carved with symbols of old, had been placed on his doorstep. Pathogen, urged on more by curiosity than habit, picked it up. On touch, it had waited for a few seconds, and then silently scanned the apartment with a beam of red light. Beeping in conformation to Pathogen’s identity, it unfolded itself with the quiet whirring of advanced old-tech. The flickering light suddenly flared out, bathing the room in a menacing red glow. The normal warmth and subdued green hue of his apartment were lost instantly. A hooded figure garbed in long robes and cape stared out at him with barely concealed loathing, his voice a grating drawl.



The fact that he dare intrude on his own private space made Pathogen’s blood boil. There was a clear line between work and his off-time, and he took it very seriously. If the situation were not that grave, he would have had the remnants of Succubus’ face dissolved and deformed beyond any semblance of life. But there was none of the sarcasm and cynicism that Succubus normally carried with him when he had spoken his name. Something was very wrong.

“The master had deemed your last mission unsatisfactory, for you have risked put our organisation’s safety with your carelessness. Thus, it has been put to debate between ourselves and deemed a failure.”

Pathogen ground his teeth together in frustration. Whoever his superiors were, it was quite obvious that they were being turned against him, probably by Succubus. Punishment would be harsh for his mistake. But he had been careless, so he had to take a fall.

“In light of this matter, you will be given the customary one chance for redemption. Failure to complete the mission will result in immediate termination”.

The hooded figure was replaced by a detailed schematic of Magart Square. A figure in the centre of the square was highlighted in yellow, while one of the surrounding rooftops had been depicted in blue. A straight line emerged from the rooftop, and ended where the figure stood. The model revolved around a central axis, giving a complete view of the scene. Information highlighted angle of shot, patrol timing and frequency, as well as locations and types of obstacles that he would need to bypass. No prize for guessing what he was supposed to do.

“Today at 0900 hours, a speech regarding our education policy and child rights will be held there. Unfortunately, there will be an unscheduled interruption… by you. Your task in this case, however, will be a little more complicated than usual. You will hack into the security systems of the compound, you will override the central control panel…”

A structure on the side to the podium was highlighted in green. Nothing unusual so far. Pathogen wondered why Succubus had specifically warned him about the difficulty of the assignment, he had not yet noticed anything out of the ordinary.

“… and you will use the speaker system to play this tape recording before the assassination.”

Pathogen frowned as a panel on the projector clicked open to reveal the tape. Announcing his presence before the assassination took place would make no sense at all. It would give the target time to escape or retaliate, and less time for him to do his job properly. The fact that the recording was played before the assassination would make little difference to most people. The only person that it made a difference to was the target, who would be dead within less than a minute. It was a lot more trouble, for little or no gain. This sucked.

Succubus reappeared, his bio-mechanical apparatus more hideous than ever. Pathogen had to make a deliberate effort to stop himself from grimacing.

“Your target is Feyman. He will be on the podium at the time of the speech. The place will be heavily guarded, and security tight. You must get in before you are detected, or you will miss your target window. You have only one chance, do not waste it. Any questions?”

Pathogen exercised a great deal of restraint, and kept his mouth shut. The education minister? How was he involved? So many questions, so many gaps in his understanding. But Pathogen had not said a word the entire briefing, and he wanted to keep it that way. He had not forgotten the fact that his personal space had been intruded upon.

But Succubus was unfazed.

“And one last thing, our client has requested for you to take a picture of Feyman after the recording is played, to capture his expression before he dies. Probably wants it for his mantelpiece I guess.” Succubus chuckled drily at his attempt at humour, and waved goodbye.

With that, the holographic figure flickered and faded from view, the small metal projector lifeless once more. Throwing it to the floor, Pathogen used his heel to ground it into dust. That’s what he thought of that twit and his devices.

Shrouded in darkness, Pathogen smiled.

The hunt would be challenging.

Pathogen suited up, the armour clicking into place, all green and ready to go.

The hunt would be dangerous.

He grabbed his rifle off the floor and slung it onto the holster on his back in one smooth motion.

He could die, probably in a horrible and painful fashion.

Pathogen grabbed his trench-coat and fedora.

At least he would die in style.

He allowed himself a moment of vanity, admiring himself in the mirror. He looked great, if he did say so himself. With that, he exited the apartment, probably for the last time.

What was life without living it a little?
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Re: Outcast Squad RP (Chapter 1)

Postby Terminal on Mon Nov 07, 2011 4:45 pm

Cyprus woke up, to the sounds of normal life. no loud drums, no screams, nothing but the normal noise of idle chatter, and feet pounding of ground, while Suraru woke up in his bed at home.

"I must of sleep flew the rest of the way... or my parents found me and threw me in bed, that would explain why I'm this awkward position" Thought Suraru. He looked at the time, he was running a bit late again "Once again, I am rushed out of my house without food or a shower by time... damn you time" He thought once more as he ran out of the house flying east toward Sabbatton.

Meanwhile, Cyprus checked the drawer to make sure his stuff was still in there. "Whew, thank the spirits." he said as he quickly grabbed his items out of the drawer and placed then into his pockets. Upon exiting the dingy little hotel he had slept at he looked up at the looming Sabbatton towers "Bring them to their knees..." he quietly muttered before realizing what he was gonna do.

The Sabbatton towers would crumble...

Suraru made it barely on time to his landing pad. After quick searches, he ran inside, noticing rises in security. "Maybe some answers when I get to briefing" He thought as he jumped down the stairs. Upon finding a suitable place for Cyprus to quietly begin his mischief, his halo flared to life. It was dark green, which completely matched his power.

As he began to move the ground in a big enough hole for him to easily slide down through, it eventually became a suitable size. He began to seal it up to a certain point, allowing for the occasional air hole. "Suffocation just wouldn't be a cool way to die, now would it?" he said aloud.
It didn't matter, no body would hear what he was saying.

Back in Sabbatton, Suraru was walking in for briefing. Looking around he saw more people. He ignored them and walked out of the fancy large room, and into the cold hallways that was the rest of the facility.

Cyprus continues his tunneling, figuring that if there were enough holes, the tower would sink down, and if it did so quickly enough, the entire structure would fall. He angled the tunnel downward and ended up popping his head out of a tunnel. "well now, this was unexpected."

Suraru sees this, and stops dead in his tracks. He stares at the head, looking very confused "what?" he says. Cyprus, looks around and notices a person standing in the cave. "uh..." makes the wall open up just enough for him to hop out and closes the hole behind him with a wave of his hand. Suraru stutters for a moment and looks around... no alarm.

"Great, I am not in the mood for a fight, please just be some random citizen, not an attacker" he thinks to himself as keeps his eyes locked onto target, keeping himself ready to defend, but not look frightening. Cyprus adjusts himself in case this ends up as a fight, placing his feet solidly on the cave floor. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

"Wha! who are you! and what are YOU doing here!" Suraru yells gesturing his hands violently "My name is irrelevant." Cyprus says glancing around. "I'm bringing down Sabbatton." He says as he clenches his hands into fists. Judging by how the Suraru gestured, this was gonna get ugly.

Suraru moaned back and yelled "F*ck my job! Now I have to fight you, but please, at the end of this i need to talk to you" Suraru getting into his fighting stance. Cyprus was thinking ahead to the fight while the other guy talked, something about having to fight and the they needed a cat. That last bit probably wasn't right, maybe he wanted to chat? Yea, that makes more sense.

Cyprus debated using some of his grenades, but in case there were more people in this place, he wouldn't want to attract too much attention to himself. "Lets Dance." he muttered to himself right before he rushed forward with a hay maker punch. Suraru ran forward and quickly dodged it, moving past him, then with his halo glowing blue, sent out gusts pushing Cyprus from behind, pushing him down.

He rolled back up facing his opponent, and noticed that his opponents halo was glowing. "Ah, he uses his power, but why?" He thought as he faced his opponent, waiting for him to make a move Suraru remained looking at the brown wolf. After a few seconds of awkward staring, Suraru pulled out his handheld Springer.

"Well now...things just got definitely more interesting." Cyprus thought as his halo flared to life once more. Cyprus rushed forward again, this time leaping into the air and causing the area the cat was on to sink down a foot and a half farther. Suraru looked down, bad idea because Cyprus landed right behind the Cat Hybrid and sent out a kick to it's back. Suraru flew forwards as he got kicked.

"Damn, stop looking at him for a second and this is what happens" Said Suraru as he turned around a distance from the wolf. He dropped his pistol and realizes this when he notices how close Cyprus is to it. Cyprus glances down at the dropped springer pistol before looking back at the cat hybrid.

He dives to grab it before the other guy does. Suraru accepts that he is too far to even attempt grabbing for it. He turns around and runs with a scared look on his face. Upon grabbing the gun Cyprus flipped onto his back pointing the pistol at the now running away opponent. "Now, this shall not do." He said to himself before making the ground come up over one of Suraru's legs. Thoroughly stopping him from fleeing.

Cyprus began walking over and fired a few round in his general direction, not really even aiming. Suraru tripped and flinched at the incoming fire. His ankle was broken, and he was stuck. In fear he shot out a few gusts of wind pushing back Cyprus, who skidded back a few steps, before anchoring his own feet in the stone. He couldn't move forward, and there was no way he could leave the guy knowing about him.

Best find out what he wanted "TRUCE!" he shouted, hoping it would go over the sound of the rushing wind, but Suraru couldn't hear it. He continued sending gusts as he broke his foot clear of the floor, breaking a few toes. Cyprus had his eyes closed and head turned as the wind pushed against him.

Suraru stood up shaking, he lept forward and tackled his attacker, his feet breaking from the light bonds that held them to the ground. Within seconds locking him, then pinning him to the ground. Suraru grimaces at the sound of his feet cracking.

Cyprus stared up at his attacker. "You said you wanted to talk?"

"Sorry about your feet, you said you wanted to take down Sabbatton? Meet me in Margaret around midnight at the Silver Hotel" Suraru said "Now dig out of here before someone arrives"

Cyprus listened to the guy as he spoke, did he want to take down Sabbatton too? "Silver hotel, got it" Suraru got off of him, then Cyprus opened up part of the wall. "What's your name though, In case you lie and i find an army of troopers."

He replied with "Suraru, now get out of here, real quick, shoot me" He said "Just in the arm, or the side"

"Suraru" Cyprus would remember that name. Cyprus thought it was kind of odd that Suraru actually wanted to get shot, but who was he to deny Suraru's wishes? Picking up the springer pistol he shot Suraru in the right arm, twice. "You want it back?" he said as he flipped it around, offering the handle. Suraru moaned, and said "Take it, go" as some yelling and footsteps were heard.

Cyprus flipped the gun back around and walked into the wall, it closing up behind him, leaving all most no trace of him being there at all, well...except for the foot and a half deep area...but other than that, not a trace. Cyprus quickly exited back onto the surface, he needed a nap, all the use of his power had worn him down a bit. "Silver Hotel..." he said before climbing onto a rooftop. "Margaret District."

As security ran toward they tunnel they saw Suraru laying against the wall shot twice, broken ankle. Part of the team was one of his team members "Damn Su, you got messed up" He said picking him up. Suraru said nothing as the rest of them secured the area.
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Re: Outcast Squad RP (Chapter 1)

Postby Silver Predator Wolf on Mon Nov 07, 2011 11:56 pm

Day -1

As Arcanas and Luna walks out of the hotel, Luna pulls out her data scroll. "Anything interesting?" "No.. nothing yet. But.. you never know." "Lets get going. We won't get anything done standing around here." "Luna puts away her data scroll and followed Arcanas as they walk around the district while keeping an eye out for potential personal for their group.

Tuesday strode along the street, avoiding people's looks. The last thing he wanted was to be recognized. It made things, difficult. He reasoned that he needed more information, stuff that wasn't on the net, so he decided to try an old standby. A bar. He made his way into the rowdy place and looked for a dreamkeeper who was already tipsy. You'll do nicely. He sat next to hum and said, "Barkeep! Two shots here!" the barkeeper slid them over. "Here ya go, on me." he said. The other dreamkeeper slurred a thanks and began drinking. And Tuesday began questioning.

As they walked, Luna sees that Arcanas is leading them to a nearby bar. "A little early to be drinking. Don't you think?" "It's a good place to start. Besides, no one would question you when you pull someone to a corner for questioning." "Point taken." As they entered the the bar, Luna looks around and nudge Arcanas when she found an empty seat by the corner facing the bar table.

As Arcanas heads for the seat, Luna walks up to the bartender and made her order for two.

The man was pretty well gone until a woman accompanied by a man entered. At least a quarter of the men there stared at her, en looked away sheepishly. The dreamkeeper next to Tuesday said, "Whull thahts a fine lookin' shpechimine of a lady if I ever saw one." Tuesday agreed, not to interested in her, but only in making the man a temporary friend. First, find out where he was exactly, "So, where are you from?" "Im from thish here Mar-Mar-Margaret, lived mah whoollee life here." Good. Now he was getting somewhere. "Yeah man, nice place," Then he took a shot in the dark, "Taxes are a ***** though," The drunkard nodded energetically, "Yeahssum, itsuh because of duh power infracshuns, they never hurt nobody, but taxes go up all the same." Ok, he had nailed down the corrupt government from two sources now. "Ever hear about those nightmare stories?" The man looked scared, "Im uh, not supposed to shpeak bout' it, buh mah bruddus friend works on dah sky road, and he says, dat der is sometin' movin' out there at night." Teusday made a big show of guffaw, "Its probably nothing." A thought hit him, one that handn't sprung into his head until now, "Hey, what's the year?" The drunk looked confused, and a little sick, "Well, the year, uhhh... Thee.. Yearr.." the mans head hit the bar and the barkeep sighed and gave Tuesday the check for 15 shots.. Wonderful he thought..

While Luna is waiting for her order, she overheard the questions being asked. When the drunk passed out, she said "Your asking some rather, intresting questions. Come by the table at the corner if you want to know more."

The bartender gave luna the two drinks and she paid for it before taking it and returning to her seat.

Tuesday gave a start when the woman spoke to him, ge wasn't quite acclimated to this time period and was a little presumptuous about women. But he hid his misgivings and tipped his hat politely, getting up and walking to the table she had indicated, "You've piqued my curiosity," he said to the dreamkeeper already there, "Tell me, what more do you know?"

Luna sat down and Arcanas said "What we have manage to dig out so far. The funds from the tax are being used by a certain politician to fund his own private gang. Information is right here." Arcanas took out his data scroll and pass it to the dreamkeeper. "As for the so called monsters, they are very real. I've seen one personal and killed it. But its body rotted away leaving no evidence."

Tuesday listened and nodded, but was a little concerned, "You are very, forthcoming with this knowledge." he said, he reviewed what he knew about nightmares, some still remembered him, and held a long lasting grudge, others he had never seen again. "How did you acquire this information." he was curious as to what they did not tell him. If they were this free with the current evidence, what did only they know?

Arcanas gestures the dreamkeeper to take a seat and Luna said "Somebody got careless. It was found on the table along with other thing that are not of our intrest. As for why we are so forth coming with this, the information your seeking and the questions your asking will get you into trouble. Or worst, get you killed. No one else pokes around these things. That's why you got my attention."

Tuesday took a seat, watching carefully the pair. They were partners, that much was clear. He would have to observe more to find out. He then said, "There are worse things than death. But, you didn't ask me over here for idle conspiracy theories. But before we continue, I think introductions are in order. I have no name, but there are many who simply call me Tuesday." He waited to see their reaction.

"Good enough for me. I wont dig into how you got the name. But something tells me your not from around here. And yes. We did not invite you for a chat. We have something else in mind." Said Arcanas.

"We are gathering people with similar thinking together. I wont go into anymore details until there is an answer from you. As for names, I'm Luna. My toy over there is Arcanas."

Arcanas rolled his eyes. "Nice to meet you tuesday. Hopefully we can work together. But first. Will you join us? I wont force you. Think about it while we wait for your answer."

Tuesday thought about it for a minute. These people were e beginnings of either a revolutionary group, or terrorists. Still, he could tell that they at least had good intentions. "Ok, I'll join you. What do we do?"

Luna smiled and Arcanas said "We need more people. But for now, welcome to the team. You got any way we can keep in contact with you?"

Tuesday thought for a moment, then removed a necklace he was wearing, a ellipse-like shape with glowing blue lines pulsing along it. It beeped when he touched it. "Take this, and say '8 days a week' to call. It's the key phrase. One you say it, I'll come to you. And one more thing, it you lose or break it, I will kill you." From inside his coat, he flashed the short sword on his belt. He stood up and with a small bow said, "Pleasure meeting you sir and lady, I bid you farewell." And he stepped out into the Margaret morning, intent on acquiring supplies for any occasion.

As Tuesday walks away, Arcanas can see that Luna is looking pissed. "Normaly I would offer him to stay with us to make things easier. But with what just happened, I think you would more likely tear his arms off and beat him into submission with it." "Lets get going." Said Luna as she down her drink and Arcanas did the same before they left the bar and wonder the streets.
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Re: Outcast Squad RP (Chapter 1)

Postby Fluffy Salamander on Wed Nov 09, 2011 10:17 am

0900 hours
Day -1
The sky was a faded grey; scattered clouds lazed across the sky, with an occasional shower to liven things up. The scene on the ground wasn’t much more exciting than the sky either. The square was full of activity; small figures moving to and fro with varying pace. Small shops could still be seen between the dilapidated apartments and shop-houses, their colourful canopies of grey sheets and white drapes strung together in an expansive patchwork, but most of the traditional stands, pushed aside and forgotten by time and tide, were gone.

The ever-present sound of bartering, common to such establishments, could be heard despite the great distance. But it too was easily drowned out by the pitter-patter of light rain. This was all a very dreary business, lacking the vibrancy and life of the newer markets and shopping malls. It was sad. The Magart Square market, once the heart of the city, now paled in comparison to the markets of Sabbaton. The usual tang of banderfish and vegetables still lingered in the air, but the market, like most things of its time, was but a tattered memory.

The presence of the politicians, despite the evident lack of interest of the daily commuters, was unfortunately not. The garish colours of yellow and red emblems contrasted strongly against the speckled cobblestone floor of the forlorn square. Helmeted workers hurried about, laboriously erecting the stout posts that housed the speakers, while flags and banners strung between them flapped in the midst of a strong breeze. It could have been a carnival, with all the display of pompousness and bright colours. The entire matter was as ridiculously out of place as it was hideously ugly. But the best was yet to come.

The podium itself stood in the centre of the square, halting all vehicle traffic in and out of the area. Whether out of deliberate design or accidental placement, the podium could only be fully seen from the rooftop on which Pathogen was crouching. It towered above the square, allowing a full view of everyone within and around the square. Adorned with all manners of gaily-coloured decorations, it looked like a six-year-old’s art piece gone horribly wrong. A gleaming tower fit for the whole parade. No wonder nobody took the politicians seriously. Pathogen had half the mind to shoot the landscape designer responsible for this crap instead of the target.

However, despite the evident lack of any sense of style or design, Pathogen had to give the organisers credit for their security. Armoured vehicles were stationed immediately outside the square, ready to deploy troops, or spirit the politicians to safety, at the first sign of trouble. Guards clad in full body armour patrolled the corridors of the marketplace, on the lookout for suspicious activity or persons. The podium itself was surrounded by several dozen heavily-armoured riot corps, which was further supported by heavy infantry clad in black special ops outfits. Even for the paranoia common to politicians, this was a bit extreme.

No matter, none of this had made much of a difference to Pathogen. It was simply hunting at a more challenging level for him. He was still here, very much alive. The guards were another matter entirely. 6 lay dead at his feet, an entire squadron of men who were unlucky enough to come across him engineering the necessary strains for the job. It was a simple matter of unleashing a single viral strain on the patrol. Standing by, he watched their eyes fill with primal fear at the sight of black gas, then let them fall to the ground one by one. No screaming this time, every kill made would need to be completely clean. No screw-ups permitted, no mistakes allowed.

Pathogen was already on the roof when the fanfare sounded, the speeches were about to begin. For what purpose, Pathogen had no clue. But everything that mattered to him was ready. The main computer had been overridden; the network was down, the tape recording ready at hand. The patrol was not due for another report for another half-hour, and the alarm had not been raised. Nothing had been left to chance. He lined his sight to the podium and waited silently in anticipation. No distractions, absolute focus had to be achieved. The hunt was about to commence. He was ready. Success was at hand, failure was not an option. Then again, it never was.


Pathogen hesitated for a moment. He had never actually considered failure as an option. And only two times in his life had he been wrong about this assumption. Pathogen searched his thoughts. What made him different? What made him special? His hands began to tremble. The questions had been pushed away long ago. Yet they still haunted him. Why? A bead of sweat trickled down his face, or was it a tear? What had made him unique? He could not answer. It frustrated him, mocked him. It pained him. Pathogen faltered for a moment, lowering his gun.

A cold gust of wind suddenly lashed out, whipping his fedora off into the sky. Where did that come from. Pathogen shivered in the cold and watched. The fedora floated in the air for a moment. For a moment that felt like eternity. Then it rapidly dropped, downward and out of sight, into the alleyways below. Was that a reminder? Pathogen strengthened his grip on his gun, a new steely resolve in his unblinking gaze. Memories were suppressed, feelings locked away. There was no time for those. This was a warning. Pathogen would heed it. Only failures contemplated failure.

Pathogen would not fail.
Pathogen could not fail.

Pathogen re-adjusted his sight, a single tear wiped away.

He was Pathogen.
It defined him.

Pathogen lined the crosshairs back onto the podium…

It was that simple.
He was back.
Last edited by Fluffy Salamander on Sat Nov 12, 2011 10:00 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Outcast Squad RP (Chapter 1)

Postby Kitten on Fri Nov 11, 2011 3:01 pm

Day -1

Kitten groggily rose from her bed as the first fingertips of sunlight made their way onto the horizon, painting the sky a variation of vibrant colors. The grand display made her smile softly as she moved about her tiny apartment and pulled on her clothes for the day, the same clothes she wore pretty much every day. Her dainty little feet slipped into her shoes, she tapped them against the floor to make sure they were secure.

Her body swayed to a beat that could not be heard as she brushed her hair that went down her back to the top of her behind, lowering her ears as she tugged out the knots from all her movements as she slept till her hair was soft and smooth. The next bit of business having to brush out the fur of her tail before she would make her way to the kitchen to eat something and by then the sun was already well risen but now obscured as clouds rolled in and promised for scattered showers. She hated how such a simple task of keeping her hair groomed took so much time.

She continued to move to her own beat as she made her breakfast of toast and juice before she sat down and looked through her data scroll. She nearly spat out her juice when she stumbled on the report about the Powers Infraction the other day. 'What kind of rubbish is this?' she couldn't help but think to herself as she shook her head and tossed the data scroll away, thoroughly disgusted at how much things were degrading in the political realm. 'Blood sucking insects... the lot of them.' She thought as she finished her juice and washed her dishes.

She looked at her fridge and lowered her ears, noticing how dismally empty it was. She made a sour face as she stood up and closed it, grabbing a little bag with her lucre so that she could go to the market to remedy the travesty that was her empty fridge. As she made her way to market she remembered the political speech that was supposed to go on that day. The thought made her grimace, she didn't want to hear them spout their crap, she just wanted to get her groceries and head back home.

She moved from the different booths, finding the fish and vegetables that would make up her meals for the next few days between her shifts working at the clothes boutique. She didn't care much for working there, but it was pay and it kept her fed, the discounts on clothes were nice but she hardly wore anything other than her one outfit. She squeaked and lowered her ears as she was jarred from her thoughts by a painful jostling to her upper arm. A patrol of guards had been passing by on their rounds and one hadn't noticed her, causing his armored elbow to collide with her. She kept her ears lowered and curled her tail around her calfs as the guard glared at her for getting in his way before marching on.

She huffed and poked her tongue out in a very childish manner after him before regaining her composure as the owner of the booth gave her a look that clearly said that she looked crazy. Her face turned red as she picked up the fruit she wanted and paid, before making a beeline for anywhere but there. The crowd was growing much larger, and the amount of security was too as it drew closer and closer to the time for the speeches to be made.

She looked about at all the garish banners in the bright colors were spread out everywhere. This wasn't a celebration, it was a stupid speech from a nasty little man about some nasty business that would end up with most of the public screwed, as always. She was once again dragged from her thoughts as she saw some small children running about, bringing a small smile to her lips at how innocent they were. The smile was quickly replaced with a wince and concern as one of the kids tripped and fell. She ran over to the little child as he sat up and held on to his elbow and began to cry.

"Shhh... don't cry now... I'll make it better. Ok?" She said in a soft soothing voice to the little wolf boy as he sat on the ground. She frowned knowing she couldn't use her healing powers, but she was glad she always kept bandages and salves in her bag, just to be safe. She took out her bandages and salve and cooed softly as she tended to the scrape. She finished tying off the bandage and asked "How does that feel hm?" The little boy bent his arm a few times before jumping up and running off with a quick "Fank You!"

Kitten felt her heart lighten as the boy ran off to chase his companions, helping the injured always made her feel so much better inside. She tucked her healing supplies back into her bag and looked around. The crowd was even bigger and moving out of it and back home would be a difficult task in and of itself. She began to try and slip her way through the crowd before tripping over someones foot and toppling to the ground with a squeaking sound.

She grumbled as she pushed herself up from a rather embarrassing position of having her rear in the air and crawled along the ground a bit before popping up in a spot that was slightly less crowded, her ears lowered as she looked about before starting to make her way out of the square once more. She didn't want to be there once the speech started, but it was due to start any minute and it would take more than that to make it out of the throng of DreamKeepers gathered.
Last edited by Kitten on Sat Nov 12, 2011 10:38 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Outcast Squad RP (Chapter 1)

Postby Halo's shadow on Sat Nov 12, 2011 4:33 am

Tuesday mental chided himself, he had slipped into an old farewell custom, and had basic all made a fool of himself.
Dammit. he thought. He walked along the street, noticing the amount of traffic being diverted.
He paid little mind, and procured varied supplies, from bandages, to an anti-aging product that a few decades from now would prove to be a very effective anti-biotic. As he finished his shopping, noticing his now completely bone-dry funds, he decided to go entertain himself till' the two called for him. He walked in the general direction of the crowd to see what all the fuss was about.

He shifted through the crow like water between rocks, accidentally bumping into a small white dreamkeeper,
"Scuse me." he muttered. He then got a good look at the scene before him.

He never tired of this sensation, the feeling that you were IN history, that every moment was the defining moment of that time, the sense was exhilarating. The square seemed oddly familiar, he noted this, because to the best of his knowledge, two assasinations had occurred here. The second would come at least 100 years after the first.

He stuck out his toungue in distaste. This decade had zero sense in design. It people late would realize--
He visibly twitched when he realized why this scene was so familiar. It was the first assassination.
He had seen photos in history books, but no direct quotes from viewers,
Guess I'll find out firsthand. he thought. He caught something fluttering out of the conner of his eye, a hat, distant, off of a rooftop. He zeroed in on the source. There was a small cylinder, poking out unobtrusively from the top.
There's the sniper.
He didn't warn anyone. Not out of cruelty, but because no one would believe him. Due to the heavy gaurd and crowd, one crazy dreamkeeper wouldn't convice the speech to stop. He simply sighed, and watched both the barrel, and the speaker, who pompously prepared his speech.
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Re: Outcast Squad RP (Chapter 1)

Postby Fluffy Salamander on Tue Nov 15, 2011 9:53 am

Magaret Square
Day: -1, Time: 0905
It had been a long time since Nautilus Feyman had addressed such a large congregation. Certainly, after he had been promoted to his current position of Education and Child Welfare Minister, he had hardly left his office in Sabbaton. He had not seen daylight in a week and for good reason too. Being photosensitive, Nautilus hated light in any form, especially sunlight. In fact, he hated just about everything around him now. The crowds were blaringly loud, with their ceaseless chattering over unimportant matters. Filling the square, they came in hope of what? A leader? A visionary?

No, a puppet. That would be the price of their support.

Managers, technicians, lighting experts as well as that idiot of a designer all waited nervously on the side. Bustling around, they would be rushing about with last-minute changes, emergencies and improvisations of every kind. This was normal to every stage crew, and held little interest in his eyes. What he was searching for, was sitting in the middle of all the activity looking very out of place.

His son waited off-stage, shifting uncomfortably from side to side. With his thin and lanky frame, nervous energy and shy behaviour, it was plain to anyone that he was not at home in the spotlight. A minute shift in his posture revealed what many layers of clothing had failed to conceal. A single gold chain, with a small emblem dangled from his neck. Illuminated by a single shaft of light from the overcast sky, the golden symbol glinted briefly against brown fur. Then as quickly as it had appeared; it vanished, no more than a trick of light. But it was much more than that, and Nautilus knew.

Feyman smiled at the crowd, grimacing inwardly at the knowledge of what was to come. He issued a confident laugh into the microphone, waving his hand in greeting. The crowd cheered enthusiastically, the hecklers drowned out by the noise. A trumpeting fanfare joined the din, almost deafening him. A deep booming voice announced from the speakers, “NOW, OUR VERY OWN MINISTER… NAUTILUS FEYMAN!” Massive banks of lights swivelled to focus on him, illuminating the gleaming podium and all its regalia.

Feyman stood up onto the platform; every feature magnified greatly by hidden cameras all over the podium. The crowd cheered enthusiastically, a thousand cameras flashing simultaneously. Feyman faltered, wincing at the sight of so much light. This wasn’t a speech; it was a publicity gathering, which was true in more ways than one. Yes, he just hated all of it. But it would all come to fruition, and all things would work out for his ambitions. This was but a small price to pay. In a game where publicity and popularity was everything, speed and timing was of the essence.

A few rooftops away…

A sniper rifle’s bullet usually travels just over 1000 metres per second. It needs to be fast and accurate to ensure a kill. That meant that in less than half a second after Pathogen pulled the trigger, the hammer would be brought down on the cartridge, igniting an explosion which would propel a single bullet down the barrel of the rifle, allowing it to travel the distance between the rooftop and the podium, penetrate the cranium, and kill the minister. That would usually leave roughly two and a half seconds for him to use before everyone else recovered from the shock. However, with the amount of security and personnel present, as well as the message he would be playing, that spare time would probably shorten to little over a second. After that the alarm would be raised, and every single guard would go on high alert. Watching the patrolling guards brandish their rifles below, Pathogen gulped. Not the best odds of survival in this case.

He refocused the scope, lining the crosshairs so that the bullet would enter in-between the eyes. The scope ready, he looked into the scope, only to realise that the minister was looking directly at him, his eyes seemed to be looking back at him through the scope. Now that was an eerie thought. The minister would be looking death straight in the face. Symbolic, was it not?

The minister had begun his speech, his voice both confident and imploring. It boomed into the speakers, filled with apparent sincerity and belief. Feyman was charismatic, and very personable. The man could charm the scales off a snake. The crowd hung on his every word, even the hecklers soon falling silent. The politician spoke of freedom, of rights, of humanity. These were abstract concepts thrown into the air for a bid for power. Pathogen had lived long enough to know that this man’s speech would only fool an idealist, and a thick one at that. But it was as if the crowd were under a spell, moved by the proclamations of a preacher. This guy did not look like much, but he was good. It made one wonder if the assassination were but a simple measure to eliminate a political rival. It would not have been the first time that a promising political career had ended with a single bullet. They could be so petty sometimes.

But something in his gut told him that this was much deeper than that, and Pathogen was not one to discard his instincts easily. But he had already made it so far. He had to see it through. He activated the data scroll, slotting in the tape. Perspiration dripped off his forehead, it was the moment of truth.

A sudden screech halted the politician’s speech, interrupting him a passionate appeal, sending the technicians and managers off-stage into a frenzy. The mood was disrupted, the citizens were puzzled. No one knew where the transmission had originated from. No one knew what had happened. Bar two.

The screeching continued for another second, then but then a single word emerged.


The word echoed around the square, which had become unnaturally silent. Suddenly, as if someone had snapped their fingers, the trance was broken. Every single guard went on high alert. A warning siren sounded. Patrolmen began running about to locate the source of the threat. Armed security rushed onto stage to escort the minister away, someone in the crowd screamed. Mass hysteria ensured.

The minister was discussing with the troopers. Funnily enough, it appeared that he was actually refusing to leave. Pathogen noted repeated gesturing towards someone who could only be his son. The kid was standing there, surprisingly calm in the midst of all the chaos. Weird.

The indicator panels beside Pathogen lit up with multiple warnings. The motion detectors downstairs had been tripped. Heat sensors going crazy. The guards had reacted with astonishing speed, zeroing onto his position without a moment’s expectation. The sound of their combat boots could be heard through the concrete floor. It would take no more than another five seconds before he would be facing a dozen or so armoured troopers.

There was only one way that they could have reacted with such speed. They had been warned. A single image flashed in his mind, an image in red.


Pathogen snarled angrily, cursing the name. He hated being set-up. No time for precision anymore. Swinging around in one smooth motion to align it with his target while shouldering the rifle, Pathogen fumed. People were going to die. He discarded the rifle as the sound of a single shot suddenly echoing around the stone confines of the square. Below, a single figure keeled over and slumped to the ground, causing more cries of dismay and screams of terror from the crowd.

Pathogen equipped his helmet, the HUD activating and updating the current scenario. Palming a single canister from his belt, he turned around to face the single exit. The muffled scuffling of boots was plainly audible from his position. He was tense, if slightly nervous. The sound of a welder’s torch working through the door. The small blue flare of light emerging from the side of the door. The smell of melted metal that pooled on the ground. The vibrations of a muffled explosion as the troopers encountered the heat-sensitive trap attached to the door.

Oh yes, many people would die today.

(OOC: This post was a bit of long, even for me.)
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Re: Outcast Squad RP (Chapter 1)

Postby Twilight on Wed Dec 28, 2011 2:30 am

locking 'cuz. . . someone asked me to ^^;
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