Role Playing Thread !!!!

Freekin great
TUG's next I guess...and just for the notice, we are supposed to fill fire extincters with bloodtox, or spray things. This way, it's a heal spray for us, and an acid spray for infected ^^

But if someonge got bit, and he immediately applied bloodtox on him/herself, it wouldn't be such a problem, right ?

[Cant say I have. I wanna Hear more about Nibbles.
as for bloodtox.. i imagine it'd stay the virus' progression and possibly cause a little discomfort.. but anna's already showing signs.]

PrototypeXero wrote:[Cant say I have. I wanna Hear more about Nibbles.
as for bloodtox.. i imagine it'd stay the virus' progression and possibly cause a little discomfort.. but anna's already showing signs.]

Se may require a...ahem, lead injection, if you catch my drift.



http://scrapetv.com/News/News%20Pages/usa/images-2/agent-smith-firing-gun-the-matrix.jpg
^Just in case you don't...

[I certainly wouldnt want anna to die now. XD just when im getting fond of her!]

Just don't make "reckless" become "stupid".
That would be bad.
Or good, depending on what sort of entertainment you like.

Oh joy!
Seriously though, where the * is Grond, he didn't...die or anything right?

Because he's a cyborg? He's a cyborg isn't he?

Is jean the embodiment of cancer. Smoking helps cancer.


Jean's cancer isn't he.

Murderer.

[awww damnit i wanted to make anna slap jean for his comment XD]

Whoevers turn it is, POST!

I dont have time right now but i'll post later tonight

Post ?

ZOMG Xero is eeeeeeevil >:]

K...
Who now?

[*offers Pein a hug and a tit shot of Anna*]

'Kay, here you go!


Selt had driven to the coast and had only seen one person alive the whole way. He could remember seeing a small child, face dirtied and with rags hanging off the thin frame. It had taken one look at him before darting off into a burnt-out building which was missing a corner to it, a whole corner destroyed by an errant rocket or shell. Selt just kept driving, acutely aware of a pair of hungry eyes glaring at him from the building, a feeling that didn't go away until he was a few blocks away and after he turned a corner.
He kept driving until he reached the southern end of the island. The parks were grey and lifeless, and the streets felt like a ghost town, all the survivors so far of the infection had grouped on the western side, facing the mainland and the bridges. Even the grass in the area seemed to have died, although that may have been because of the gathering thunder-clouds that were swiftly approaching the island from the sea. The rolling heads of the dark mass occasionally flashed with lightning, and thunder could just be heard in the unearthly silence. A wind had picked up, blowing ashes from the centre of the island, leaving a thin blanket over the ground.
Here, on the tip of this island of madness, Selt found what he was looking for. He drove the car up to the dry-dock, and parked it, unconsciously * the vehicle in between the fading white lines of the carpark. Getting out, Selt grabbed his gear and walked over to the dry-dock doors. The door was locked, so he searched around for a spare key, finding it blu-tacked to the top of the door-frame. He opened the door and closed it behind himself. Flicking the light on, he waited in the gloom for the fluorescent tube to warm up. Finally, it flickered to life, illuminating the grimy space. Selt sighed in relief. Small aluminum boats, tinnies were stacked on the walls in sturdy mountings, while a few sat in trailers. At the end of the building, the ground became a ramp that descended into the dirty water, which lapped against the concrete gently. Selt got to work immediately. He looked for the tinnie that had the requirements he needed. He finally settled on the one on one of the lower rungs, next to the ramp. He looked over it.
The boat was in good condition, probably only used a few times. There were seats wielded to the sides, but had storage room underneath. Lots of room. Which was good, because Selt was going to need it if he was going to get out of here alive. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to get it set up so he could work with it as quietly as possible. After a lot of struggling and very quiet cursing, Selt managed to wrench the tinnie already in a trailer out of it, and put it on the floor. He then pulled the tinnie he wanted out of its brackets and put it upside-down on the trailer. When he finally finished this task, Selt slumped against a wall and cracked open a can of food, and like most meals he had nowadays, wolfed it down cold, trying to get the most of the congealed gristle off the end of the fork. He sat back against the wall, closed his eyes, and began to envision what he needed.

The door of the dry-dock opened slowly, as Selt peered through the crack looking about. Nothing moved.
He felt vulnerable again, outside, without the walls of the dry dock to protect him from unfriendly eyes, even if he was carrying a rifle. Creeping over to his car, he got in and started it up. The rumble of the engine sounded like an ear-splitting roar in the silence of the city. Selt took off and left the dry-dock, in search of the materials he would need.

The first stop he made was at a clothing shop. Selt had been tramping around in the same blood-soaked, fluid-smeared clothes that he had been in at the start of this whole bl.oody mess. He picked out a set of clothes that fit him, and quickly stripped off his ruined set. For the first time, Selt managed to assess the damage his body had suffered. He had a painful rash on the inside of his thighs, and his chest was a mass of bruises. There were long scratches from when the soldier clawed him, and a dark purple stain where he'd been punched by said soldier. There were black rings around his torso from where the valve thing in the sewers tried to close on him, and another dark bruise on his back and the underside of his ribs when he'd been tackled by another soldier at the helicopter. And of course the massive red hand-print of when the gigantic monster had grabbed him, and those were just the wounds where he had bothered to remember their origin. There were a hoard of other cuts and bruises all over his body from his various endeavors. His teeth were yanked out of shape and his eyes were dark with sleep deprivation. Selt had never had enough sleep. There were old bloodstains and even, Selt noticed with a twinge of humor that there was a scratch still there from before all this happened when he'd accidentally cut himself with a knife cutting some potatoes. The mundane nature of it made the injury utterly absurd. His clothes were similarly torn and dirtied, his jacket featuring burnt out holes where he'd fired bullets through it. Opening up a back door, Selt found himself in the back of an alley, where the wares were loaded into the store. He found a tap at about knee height and turned it on. After a moment of gurgling, brown dirt-laced water came out. After a minute the water turned a light yellow before becoming clear. Selt splashed it over himself, washing away as much of the blood as possible. When he was done, he turned off the water and put on the new clothes, wrapping his brand-new red and black square scarf around his neck. Grabbing a few more sets, he threw it in the back of the car, and began his search for the next part he'd need.

(Wait, there's more!)

Hackett (he's back!) sat in his chair satisfied. It had taken time, and hours of discomfort, but Hackett had finally beaten his leather chair into a comfortable chair, with a depression just the right size and shape. He leaned back smiling at the familiar squeak of leather giving way. There was something wonderful about a well-made, comfortable chair. Unfortunately, he had a meeting with McMullen. Again. The eager little sh.it had been trying to talk to him for ages. Normally, Hackett would have loved to have constant reports from the field, but McMullen seemed to think that Hackett was part of his scientific team, and for the first few days, when Hackett had let him in whenever he had wanted, he would just carry on about every minor thing that was happening. Hackett told him that that was something his field commanders needed to give a sh.it about, not him, and promptly sent him over for Randall to handle. Unfortunately, Hackett had been told by his superiors, (Hackett found it irritating that no matter how high up he rose he always had superiors to listen to) to focus on the situation in Manhattan. Hackett was forced to oblige. That didn't mean that he had to listen to McMullen unless what he wanted to say was really important, however which was good. Unfortunately, McMullen apparently had something important to say. The intercom buzzed and his secretary spoke, the tinny voice penetrating the room which had thankfully lost its antiseptic smell. Hackett pressed a button. "Tell McMullen that I'm in a meeting and I will meet him at two-thirty like I said I would"
Hackett released the button, but kept his finger hovering over it. His secretary replied, "Sir, he says it's extremely important, and needs to see you now."
"Two-thirty, Mrs. Crafter, like I said I would."
Hackett sat back in his chair again. Typical the man would show up an hour early.
Sadly, Hackett's lie only bought time, although it did tell McMullen not to scre.w around with him. When two-thirty rolled around, the intercom buzzed to life again. Hackett said to let McMullen in and waited. Moments later, McMullen entered, irritated. Seeing as the waiting room doubled as the hall outside of Hackett's room, the fact that no-one exited the room from the "meeting" meant that Hackett had deliberately kept him waiting. Hackett didn't care. The man should learn to show up on time.
McMullen sat down in the chair opposite Hackett's desk without asking and immediately began talking.
He began haltingly, not sure how to start, given what he'd been told about code and conduct the a while ago. "General Hackett?" he began. When no move was made to indicate he'd done anything wrong, he continued. "Sir, we've found something very important."
"Really." Hackett said. Of course it was 'important'. Everything to this man was important.
"Yes sir." McMullen said, trying to hide his irritation, trying and failing.
"And what might be so important?" Hackett asked.
McMullen handed over a folder. For once it wasn't bursting at the creases. "We may have some unexpected resistance on the island."
Hackett lifted an eyebrow and resisted the urge to laugh. The man already hated him enough, but there was no reason to absolutely rub his stupidity in his face.
He settled for a short chuckle.
"No," McMullen said, clearly realizing what he said too late, "no, I meant that we may be in trouble from a group of people."
McMullen pushed the folder toward Hackett, who opened it, and was surprised when he found it wasn't full of equations and diagrams and other sciency bu.ll.sh.it, but rather held short dossiers of people. Hackett looked up, McMullen seemed to sense a glimmer of interest. He began to talk excitedly.
"We only had a few scattered reports, but recently we've confirmed that there is a group of specialists on the island who are fighting for survival."
"So?" Hackett asked as he slowly looked through the dossiers, mostly just looking at the pictures that were paperclipped onto the documents. "Good on them. What does this have to do with anything?"
"Well," McMullen replied, "Although most of the survivors are grouping on the coast, and others have formed similar groups, this group consists of specialists, who are experts in the field of espionage, long-range marksmanship, and demolitions. They've become increasingly bold, stealing a truck full of ammunition and weapons, and they are bound to try to infiltrate one of our bases, if they have not already done so. Oh, and kidnapping."
"Why are you telling me this, and not one of the commanders?"
McMullen seemed to search his memory. "Well, I was going to talk to you, and they asked if I could...well do their bit while they get back to fighting a war. Well that's what they said anyway."
Hackett sighed. He didn't like having cowards in his army, especially when they shirk doing their job.
Hackett flipped back to the start of the dossiers and began to read each in detail. When McMullen remained silent Hackett looked up and stared at him.
"Ah," McMullen began, "they've kidnapped a base commander and interrogated him. While he was there he also noted a Blackwatch soldier there. We think that the soldier in question is one Maxwell Fletcher."
"Who confirmed this little groups existence?" Hackett said.
"The commander of our friends, the EDCU, Comm-"
"Uralove, yes I'm familiar with the man. Just give me the run down of this little expeditionary force, will you?"
"Yes sir," McMullen said, flustered at being interrupted. "Ah, the leader...we think is Jean Leroux, a Frenchman. We don't know why he's here, but from some logs we've produced, he was in communications with some of the other people, apparently asking for them to meet in an apartment to discuss something of importants. We checked it out and we found it bombed. After they left of course." he added. "The people he was in contact with included Alex Yasuhiro, the sniper, Mark Johnson, the demo expert, and most interestingly, Ms. Anna Parker."
Hackett was silent for a while, staring at McMullen. After a moment, just as McMullen was about to speak, Hackett said, "You say that name as if it means something."
McMullen did a double-take. "Ah, yes. One of our top researchers, Karen Parker was...close...to Mercer, Zeus. She was the one who gave us the leak on Mercer, and has been studying the virus and Mercer. She also knew a lot about the man personally, his interests, fears-"
"I don't think," Hackett interrupted, "that Mercer has 'fear' anymore."
"Yes, but that's irrelevant. A while ago, we lost contact with Parker, Karen. We believe Mercer found her. She's probably dead, but her sister, Anna, who is also a scientist and the only person who Karen was still in touch with, is still alive, with this group. If she's still alive, it's possible that Karen told Anna something, or left her something regarding her work on the virus and information about Zeus."
"So, we need-"
"To find her yes!" McMullen cut in.
"I see..." Hackett said, looking at the other dossiers. "Who are these other three?"
"Well, the Blackwatch profile is of Maxwell Fletcher, the operative I was talking about."
"Yes..."
"The other two are other people of interest. The first is Shi Ben Heng, an assassin, who as we understand has been gunning for Leroux for some time now. He was the one who bombed the meeting place. The second is one Elijah Selt, a man who I've actually had the personal pleasure of meeting."
Hackett raised an eyebrow.
McMullen smiled as he reminisced, "Granted it wasn't much of a meeting, as he was unconscious on a hospital bed at the time, but that's irrelevant. This man is the reason we have Bloodtox."
Hackett raised the other eyebrow.
"Yes. One of our patrols found him, a suitable candidate for the program and when we arrived, we found that he was just the right specimen. We introduced the anti-virus, and took samples of the antibodies that we would need. We assumed he wouldn't survive the process as his body rejected the infected cells, but apparently he wasn't far enough gone for the healing process to kill him. He's still out there, the father of Bloodtox. If we could re-acquire him too, that would be a great boost to our research."
"So where are they?" Hackett asked.
"We understand that the two of them were working together for survival for a time. The last time we can say for certain we knew where they were were when they were being treated in a field hospital. They were posing as Blackwatch soldiers and even reported to Specialist Cross himself. From this point, we've only had a few unconfirmed rumors of Selt. Apparently a marine who was gunning in a helicopter in one of the red zones saw him, interestingly being attacked by a hunter, who instead of killing him, almost seemed to drop him safely onto a fire-escape on a building before running away from the gunner."
"Hunter?"
"A hunter is...a...big monster."
"Ok. Great, and what about Ben Heng?"
"He's dropped off the radar completely. We haven't been able to locate any sign of him at all."
McMullen stopped. Probably out of breath, Hackett thought.
"What do you think we should do sir?"
Of course he had to get Hackett to point out the obvious. Taking a deep breath, Hackett spoke quickly and impatiently.
"You need these people right? Here is what you do. Find Parker. Take her. Offer the rest of her merry band the opportunity to go free or work with us. If they try to stop us, shoot them. Find Selt. Take him. Put up wanted posters, TV and radio space, put their faces on the back of *.cking milk cartons, I don't care, just get a hold of them, fix your mess, and for chris.sa.kes, get someone to kill Mercer."

Bring Back The Tome! (BBTT)
Ok. Fun. Done. Who's next!
.

Aaah. The boost we needed ^^

Xero is next I think. Remember, Jean is with you
Oh BTW Pein, what's Yuri's full name ? I might need it for my next post...

ARGH I can't believe you managed to make a silence part out my scene...and make it coherent with the story while humiliating Jean !
Seriously though...nice post, let TUG or Pein post now. But I'd like you people to leave my post with the group in front of Yurie in person...I have some interesting stuff
I played Assassin's Creed 1+2 all on PC. It's better with the "free" DLC ^^