Exiled Memories IC (Cyberpunk RP)

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Exiled Memories IC (Cyberpunk RP)

Postby FalseProphet » Thu May 20, 2004 11:14 pm

Tonight was not a night that a normal human being would think to go out on the town, not that this mission was very much like the traditional definition of "going out on the town". Its thick darkness went unlit by moonlight, as dark grey clouds spat a storm against the ground and the windowpains of the rundown, concrete and steel highrise apartment building on the outskirts of Sector 8. This was one of the most popular slums for runaway mutants and other scum to hide in. It laid largely in what some might consider ruins, but in truth it still was intact, a living embodiment of the difference between the priveledged and the renegades.

A small squadron of the Rogue Mutant and Mage Elimination Division, labeled alternatingly as Pack 82 or as "The Black Talons", made its way through the upper levels of the building in question. They were mostly nervous about this particular mission, not because it seemed terribly hard, but because they had already lost one of their 6 person team earlier outside in a firefight.

This wasn't to say that he was dead. He just...wasn't anywhere to be found. The second in command, a fellow by the code name of "Raven", always knew that he was kind of off in the head, certainly not fit for a leader. However, it was scary how good he was at this job, so Raven left his opinions to himself.

They found the door they were looking for, Apt. 1145. It had been partially damaged, or simply old. Either way, it was unlocked, so one of the other officers pushed it open quietly. Raven and the others entered the front room, taking tactical positions next to the entrances so they could take out their single target, a notorious mutant who, despite his marginally grotesque appearence, was immensely powerful physically. He took in a breath before gesturing for the rest to follow him into a room to the side, where a soft looking mattress sat on the ground. It looked rather lumpy, so the effective leader looked under the covers. Confusion set in when he realized that no one was sleeping there. A menacing laugh, cracked somewhat as if speaking through a low-grade microphone, came from the front room. The same voice scolded them "You're so predictable. How is it that you, some of the most highly trained TOOLS of that almighty government in charge, can't catch me? Because you're NOTHIN' to me! Not worth the time it's gonna take to strike back for all my brothers and sisters you killed." Raven turned as the deformed, tan-skinned man riled back a punch that knocked one of the soldiers into a side wall with enough force to create a human-sized crater. Then, another sound from the front room stopped the monster. It was a crash from above. Dusting himself off stood the Mutant hunter who had dissappeared earlier.

Raven shook his head, a grim, knowing smile on his face. "Always gotta make an entrance, don't ya..."

The new entering man said in a somewhat cocky voice, "Sorry for running off like that earlier, that firefight wasn't my style."

"YOU! You're who...You..."

A metal scrape sounded as three claws ejected from the gauntlets of this new warrior. "Me...What? Spit it out. Actually...save your breath." He turned sideways somewhat, taking the hint of a fighting stance. "I don't have time for whatever self-righteous shit you're about to spew. Come on. You wanna pick on someone, try me on for size."

"You're gonna pay!" The musclebound mutant lunged at the claw-weilder. The mutant hunter sidestepped and used the movement to sweep a claw into his opponent's back. The creature grinned terribly and punched the hunter in the stomach, lifting the human above his head. Though not finding it comfortable, he struck down with a claw farther through the mutant's back, ripped it out, and struck down again. The opponent slumped somewhat, allowing the hunter to fall to his feet. With an ache in his gut, the fighter stabbed forward into the grossly overdeveloped upper arm of the mutant, and with a solidly planted boot, shoved the bleeding creature to the ground.

The hunter kneeled harshly on the creature, raising a claw above the throat of his target, ready to end it all. There was no small amount of satisfaction in his face, when he stopped and looked up. There was a man...no, a shape of one, floating before him. He looked somewhat odd, shifting back and forth, sometimes wholly there but more often not. "Do not let that blade fall...for soon it will be you whom it falls upon..." it said into the fighter's mind. As only once before, the hunter was struck by fear, then slowly the scene faded out...

**************

With a start, Alastor sat up in bed. "What the hell?" He rubbed his forehead. It was just a dream... though he admitted to himself it was severely messed up. He got out of his bed slowly, and began to ready himself, equipping his weapons and his armor.

Today wouldn't be much different for him than any other day. Or, that's what he hoped. Usually when he had dreams that strange and vivid, it meant that he was in for a long, very unusual day...
[center]Now that there is no laughing Kefka for my sig line, I'm resorting to this...[/center]

[center]FalseProphet's Random Link of the However Long It's Here.[/center]
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Postby Khavi » Sat May 22, 2004 12:43 am

(ooc- car model years are running off of what you told me that this is set approx. 1200 years in the future, so a classic car is only 1140 years in the future, etc... also assuming same old car companies are still around then, because it's easier that way. just tell me if i've got to change anything.)

There was a dreadful, piercing squeal cutting through the gloom. Ellie Ludwig, known to everyone but her father as "Buzz," flopped over in bed, and slammed a hand down on the screaming alarm clock. She pushed her head out of the pillows and looked at the wicked red numbers.

7:30 AM.

Too early to be awake, especially on a Sunday morning, but she had a comission to do. She rolled onto her back again, and sat up properly, grumbling and swearing to herself. She felt like someone was repeatedly slamming a hubcap into her temples, and her stomach was made of lead. One of her eyes was half-swollen by the large purpling bruise beneath it. The result a bar fight she only remembered bits ans snatches of. A pack of Marlboro-Camel's sat on the bedside table, and she liberated one of the cigarettes from its bindings as she stood up. The lighter had fallen off the stand, though, and, unlit cigarette between her lips, she crouched to peer beneath the little table.

Buzz grasped the lighter from its place in the dust, sat back on her haunches, and lit the cigarette. Standing, she left the lighter in its proper place and took a long drag. It was definitely too early to be awake, let alone getting ready for work.

In the time it took her to finish her morning cigarette, Buzz managed to pull on clean pants, tie on her boots, find her belt and her goggles, and locate her traveling lighter and cigarettes. She stubbed out the butt in the ashtray by the front door, and exited her apartment. Down a short hall, a flight of stairs, and she was at work.

Buzz had installed her apartment above her garage to keep from having to commute from one part of the city to the next. Much as she loved her cars and enjoyed drive, she valued the time sleeping in and not spent in morning traffic. Rush hour was an unpleasant time for everyone.

The garage itself was located in one of the upper-middle class, blurred sections between the slums and the high-class homes. A garage in a slum generally didn't do very well, while a garage in the rich inner-city was swamped with flashy sports cars needing a new paint job to fit the day of the week, and boys with size-issues wanting to soup up the cars they had gotten for their recent 16th birthdays. Living in the middle class section got Buzz exactly what she wanted: regular tune-ups on normal cars, a few well-paying, fun commissions, and a strong lack of teenage boys wanting to prove they had the biggest dicks.

"Morning, Thom," she said as she passed one of her few employees. Thomas Herring, known at the garage as 'Airbrush,' was in charge of the high-end paint jobs often requested by Buzz's cliets. He had a knack for making classic vehicles look modern, and fresh off the line.

"You're up early, Buzz. I brought coffee and donuts, they're in the office," the man replied. "You done with that kid's car yet?"

"That 3165 Ford New T-bird? Almost. I have to re-attach the bumper and order a few old-model parts. You can't find half the things that punkass rich kid wanted on the market anymore," she said, running a hand through her short hair. It was falling in her eyes, so she pulled her goggles up from around her neck to work as a headband for the moment. "I don't know where a boy that age got that kind of money to afford everything he wants here. You know he doesn't have a job."

"Daddy's checkbook does wonders," Thom replied, taking a swig from his coffee cup. "Damn rich kids. You have to admit though, you were pretty well off when you were his age..."

"I was wroking in my dad's garage and running the racing circuits on a regular basis, Thommy-boy. Off to work, now, you have to finish airbushing that old Chevvy. Get it done and I might let you go home to your kids," Buzz said, motioning towards the paint room. She could see through the plate glass window that Thom was nearly done with his job on the Chevrolet Corvette. Racings stripes with Asian-style dragons wrapped stylishly around them. One of his better jobs.

"Slavedriver," Thom laughed, and continued towards his paint room. Buzz headed for the partially-dismantled car at the corner of the garage she used for her special commissions.

The partially dismantled car was the 3165 Ford New T-bird, rear bumper lying on the floor behind it, hood sitting on a table nearby, and only two windows, one of which was cracked. Not bad, considering she had gotten nothing but a body with four cracked windows and half a windshield, hallf a rear bumper, a badly dented hood, and what looked strangely like bullet holes in the front bumper and along the side paneling.

The body, however, was the only truely desperate part of the car; most of it's internal structure and the generic framework were nearly flawless. Buzz could only guess as to where a 17 year old rich kid from the inner city had found such an anomaly. As a general rule, cars people brough to Buzz were spot-on bodyt wise, but competely trashed under the hood.

She decided not to think of it as she pulled a welding mask over her face, and lit the precision blowtorch to beging welding the rear bumper back to the body of the car. Easy things first. She could hammer the dents out of the hood and patch the panneling later.

She had just crouched behind the car and set to working when one of the sliding metal doors at the entrance of the garage was hauled open. Buzz frowned and swore behind her mask as she clicked off the blowtorch.

"We're closed, I'm doing a commission. Come back on Monday, during office hours," she said, standing and pushing the welding mask away from ehr face. It was impossible to make out who the person was, for they were silhouetted against the bright morning sun. Whoever they were, they didn't respond to her prior words.

She removed the welding mask altogether from her head, and walked around to the front of the car. Lighting a cigarette, she squinted against the light, still trying to make out out the person's face. "Well, what do you want? You got me smoking now, you bum, I can't start working till I finish. So what can I do you for?"
I was so mad, I could have chewed up nails and spit out paper clips.
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Postby Latis » Sun May 23, 2004 4:16 am

The rain pitter-pattaered on the window gently and the cat was standing on her chest meowing incesently. Latis popped open one eye and looked at the cat in the dim light of the tiny apartment.

"Fine, fine I'm awake. Get offa me ya furball," She mumbled at the large grey tabby.

She was lying on the bed with one arm thrown over her face. With her other hand she shoved the cat off of her. She then rooled over and moved her arm and tipped the alarm clock so she could see the time. 8 a.m. Latis sat up with a grumble as the cat weaved in and out of her legs. She pushed the pass of strawberry blonde tangles out of her face and streched. She hated her job and there was nothing she would like more than to not go in today. But she had to pay the bill some how. And with her 3 computers constantly running her elcetircity bill was monsterous. She glanced over at the machines and saw nothing unusual. A few files coping on one and a pass word search on the other.

She got up and walked to the small kitchenette and fished a can of cat food out of a cabnet. Maybe that would shut Dipsy up. She scooped the food in to his bowl with a little plop and tossed the can in the trash. She pulled open the fridge and peeped inside, then closed it. She would get breakfest at the dinner.

She went in the bathroom and turned on the shower. The water had to run for ten minutes before it got good and hot so she wandered back to the bed and sat down and lit a ciggarette. She took a drag and looked at the computers again. The screen on one was flashing madly. She jumped up and sprinted the short disance to the chair sitting infront of it. Damn it Damn it. Why do hacker target her on a regular basis. This was obviously an amature attempt. Her trace got him. The wrote down the info. She would pay the poor soul a visit sometime. She booted his ass from her files with all haste. She shooke her head as she stubbed out the ciggarette.

She showered and dressed, draggin on a tatty pair of jeans, a tank top and an old button up shirt which she buttoned half way and tucked in. She grabbed her duster on the way to the door and stopped by the Kitchenette.

"Cat, behave yourself."

She walk down the flights of stair quickly and hopped on the little motercyle sitting out side. She lived only a block away from work. But she perfered not to walk it and she didn't want the hassel of little thugs that littered the streat in the slums.
It's the law of the jungle, my man, if you're in the trees you gotta swing.
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Postby Joshua Dyre » Sun May 23, 2004 2:29 pm

It wasn't so much waking up as it was coming back from the dead. Joshua groaned as he sat up in his bed, the movement jarring his mind and bringing with it waves of nausea. As he opened his eyes, the light streaming in through the dirty window almost blinded him, and he brought his hand up to cover them until they adjusted.

As he put his hand back down again, it brushed against something cold and hard, and he picked the thing up and examined last night's supper. A bottle of Shraeger's 79. The strongest whisky in the slums of the outer circle. He unscrewed the top and took down the last two big gulps of the firewater, then tossed the empty bottle to the floor and groped around until he found his smokes.

Two smokes later he willed himself up out of bed and almost dragged himself into the shower and emerged after ten minutes feeling almost human. Almost.

"Double the dose"
"But it's already at the most we've ever used... if we double it we may kill him!"
You have to stop thinking of the subjects as people. They're just like the rats and mice and monkeys. Now do as I say!

Echoes from the past. Just voices. The flashes came and went, sometimes just a mental picture of a place he could never remember being, or voices just like then, or sometimes faces of people he should know. Like the little girl. But he had a real picture of her too.

He pulled on his black combats and boots, and then tugged his white cotton shirt over his chiseled torso. He looked at himself in the mirror, it was almost like looking at a stranger. The brown eyes stared back, hiding answers from him. The Pheonix emblazoned on his right arm mocked him with it's hidden knowledge. It was yet another unknown in his past, but it was also his present.

It was time for 'work'. He grabbed his long black leather jacket, and pulled it on, feeling the secure weight of the 'piece' in the holster that was sewn in to the coat. He was sure he wouldn't need it for what he had to do, but then he could never be sure what would come back to haunt him, and when it would knock at his door.

He walked out of the sparse apartment, not bothering to lock the door behind him. In this part of the city, locking a door was just an invitation for someone to try and break through it. Locked doors meant for most that there had to be something worth stealing beyond.

Descending the stairs he passed a pair of teenage guys discussing prices on a score of KT-7, or Kat, whilst a third teenager, a girl, lay against the bottom few steps, eyes glazed over. As he passed she reached up and grabbed his jacket. "Wanna have some fun big-boy? only cost ya ten...."

Joshua couldn't hide his disgust, he felt sorry for the girl, but couldn't help her, once someone was hooked on Kat, there was no way back. The only way to escape it was death. And he wasn't about to be her deliverer.

He pulled out of her reach, almost causing her to roll over, and quickly left the complex. A quick walk brought him to the Arena, and it looked like the show was already warming up. Heavy music blared out of speakers stationed at the front of the building, above the main doors, and people were still queing to get through the turnstyles. A huge plasma screen showed the inside and the warm up fight between a pair of unknowns, one doing a good job of beating the brains out of the other already.

He lit another cigarette as he considered the place. The actually framework was incredibly old. Someone told him it was at least a few hundred years old, and used to be a replica coliseum built to generate artistic interest in the area. A ploy by the government to try to redevelop the crap it had allowed to fall into disrepair.

Crazy Joe had bought the place on the cheap six years back and changed it into this. A place where a guy who didn't mind having his teeth broken once or twice a week could earn a few creds. Joshua was good enough that his were still intact. Good enough to be salaried. Or was that owned? His debts far outwayed what he earned.

He tossed the cigarette to the floor and stamped it out, then headed straight for the front of the que.

"Hey is that Pheonix? Pheonix! You rule man! Go Pheonix! Reaver's gonna bust yo ass tonight Pheonix!", a number of people recognised him as they always did, but Joshua ignored the cries and after a nod from the 7ft tall behemoth on the door, ducked inside and headed quickly to his locker room.

He closed the door behind him and closed his eyes sighing. He had about a half hour before the morning's contests would begin. Three maybe four fights. Then he'd be free for the day until the evening's contest began.

Half an hour to limber up.

Half an hour to think.
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Postby Cricket » Sun May 23, 2004 4:58 pm

Shrugging further back into the shadowed alcove she'd found to nap in, she glanced at her watch and sighed to herself. 10am. She'd been up for over 48 hours now and no sleep. Events in the last 3 days had spiralled out of her control, changing her life in ways that she would never have forseen or ever been ready for. She had been lucky to escape with her life- her family hadn't been as fortunate. Since the moment she'd witnessed their deaths she'd been running, living with the knowledge and constant fear that whoever had murdered her family knew that she still lived and would want to finish the job.

Somehow she had escaped and after hiding and furtively running from spot to spot, she'd made it to the bus depot. She had just enough money to purchase a one way ticket away from the carnage. That had been 12 hours earlier. It would have been nice to be able to relax on the bus- after all, it wasn't likely that someone could sneak up on her while the vehicle was moving and she had been very watchful about who had gotten onto the ancient greyhound with her. She hadn't been so lucky though. While none of the 20 had murderous intentions, it couldn't be said that all motives were pure.

She'd spent the entire ride, shifting and fighting off the advances of a thug who seemed to think she wanted the attention. When she wasn't fighting off unwanted caresses, she was fighting off the images that jumped into her mind everytime her body came into contact with him or anything belonging to him. At first she'd hoped that one of the other passengers might come to her aid- offer her a seat next to them so she could move away from him, but his size and numerous scars convinced the other passengers that she could handle him on her own.

Now, she knew it was something to be grateful for. Perhaps if anyone started asking questions, they wouldn't remember her face. If she was really lucky, he wouldn't have seen which direction she bolted to. She had lied and said she'd go with him if he'd get her luggage out from under the bus, and he'd left her side to do just that. She wondered how long it had taken before he'd realized she'd had no luggage to be retrieved.

Scrunching down even futher and pulling her coat tightly around her so that the sun couldn't shine off her skin and give her location away, she closed her eyes for a moment of much needed rest. Pretty soon the sounds of the street became background noise for her own muddled thoughts and memories. As tired as she was, she wasn't able to sleep. Questions about who had killed her family and why they had done it, hounded her. Until she had an answer, she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to sleep again.
Christine "Cricket" Malone
Abilities: Postcognition, Empathic Healing, Speed Healing

Angel of Mercy or Angel of Death- You decide
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Postby Khavi » Sun May 23, 2004 11:53 pm

The figure silhouetted in the entrance stepped forward, pausing to turn and pull down the sliding garage door behind him. Once the light was blocked out, Buzz was able to decipher his features. He was a hulking man squeezed into an expensive business suit. He looked like an enourmous, uncomfortable sausage. Not the type to stop by Buzz's Motors.

"Elizabeth T. Ludwig?" he rumbled, walking towards her.

"Yeah. Buzz. Only my pop calls me Elizabeth," she said, removing the Marlboro-Camel from her lips, and exhaling a fair sized amount of smoke."And you certainly are not my pop... so why are you carrying around my full name?" She pushed off the Ford and stood up straight. Buzz was always wary when someone came bearing her real name. Even customers off the street just said 'Buzz'.

"I'm a representative from the Arena," he replied. "Name's Corbet Forsythe. I'm assuming you've heard of the Arena?"

"Big fight club somewhere in the city. Why are you talking to me? I'm a mechanic, tough guy, not a bareknuckle idiot looking to break my face." She took a drag on her cigarette, and leaned against the car again.

"We at the Arena are looking to start a track... Man to man matches have proved a lucrative business, with bets and all. Cars may prove another cash cow. We need racers," he said. "You, Ms. Ludwig, are a racer."

"I quit the tracks three years ago, muscles. I don't have time to race anymore, I need to keep business afloat here. Go find yourself a boxcar and do it yourself. I'm not in the sport anyore. I fix em, I don't bang them up." Buzz lowered her cigarette and walked back around behind the car, stubbing the smoke out in an ashtray on the table. She took up the welding mask again. "Now if you don't mind, sir, I have to get back to work. You see, I have a jpb, and if I don't finish this commission, I don't get paid."

"Ms. Ludwig... Buzz. You're a big name around tracks, you could kick off our business. Just two or three races, and we'll pay you at least as much as you're getting for this old Ford," he protested. Buzz dropped the mask back on the table and turned around.

"A big name around the tracks? I don't know what part of your ass you've got your head stuck in, but obviously you haven't been keeping up on the news. I haven't been to a track, racing or otherwise, since I was eighteen. Who would come to see a three-year retired mechanic trying to race?"

[coloe=brown]"You won the Grand Prix when you were sixteen, Buzz, people remember you. You're a living legend to these guys. You step on the track, everyone wants to see it,"[/color] Corbet argued.

"You said you'd pay at least as much as I'm getting on this comission," she said, jerking a thumb at the battered Ford New T-bird. "I'm getting a good 40,000 creds, plus another 30 if I get it done by next week. If you can top 70,000, I'll consider it."

"We're prepared to offer ninety."

"Thousand?"

"Thousand. Plus fifty for each race you win, and a small cut of betting income."

"How many times around do you need? Because I really do want to finish this Ford in due time."

"If you could come down to the Arena, we'd be prepared to discuss exact parameters," he replied. "I have a limo waiting outside."

"I'll drive myself, thank you."

"Of course. We'll meet you there."


Buzz slid into the driver's seat of her favourite car, and turned on the engine. The 3176 Chevell rumbled to life behind her garage, and she pulled out onto the street. She flipped on the radio and something roared out of it. She cranked the volume higher as she followed the limo down the street. It was a little too slow for her liking, but she wouldn't be able to locate the Arena on her own.

It was bare more than 45 minutes later they were pulling into the Arena parking lot. It was somewhat of a slummy place, with all manner of people hanging around outside. Ticket lines were long, for the business of bloodsport was, as Corbet Forsythe had said, lucrative at the very least.

"So you're going to open tracks... here?" she asked, lighting another cigarette. Corbet had exited his limo and was currently leading her towards the lines of people and bouncer-guarded dorrways.

"Tracks across the street, over there," he said, motioning towards the construction site. "Not for another month or so, but we need to contract our first sets of races early, to get advertising started."

"I suppose that makes sense."

Music played at a chest-thumping decibal. As they entered the building, Buzz heard an announcer somewhere setting up a fight between two guys called Phoenix and Reaver. She took a drag and looked around the place. "Interesting characters," she said. A few looked fresh from the ring, bleeding from varying bodyparts and bruised violently.

"Here's the main office," Corbet said, opening a door and motioning her in. "I'm sure you'll work out a good deal."


It was two hours before Buzz was able to leave. There was no smoking allowed in the offices, and so she was forced to sit nicotine-free for much longer than she would have wanted. Eventually, after agreeing to payments and race dates and times, she was allowed out to find breakfast and a cigarette or three. A door near the offices, that looked somewhat like a fire escape, seemed to lead outside. Buzz pushed through, leaned against the railing outside the door and lit her trademark smoke.

"Dear God, did I miss you," she said to her Marlboro-Camel. "Nothing like nicotine, breakfast of champions." She took a drag and ekhlaed slowly, scanning the somewhat ghetto-like neighborhood around the Arena. Not where she wanted to spend a lot of her time, but it made money, and she had a garage to upkeep.
I was so mad, I could have chewed up nails and spit out paper clips.
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Postby Malitar McKrenna » Mon May 24, 2004 12:29 am

The sleek transport slowly set down upon the landing pad, creaking slightly from the unwelcomed gravity. The sun shined gently of the front viewing portal. Behind it sat a man in sunglasses, the "Captain" of the ship. It was only his title, of course, seeing as he was the only living being that worked on the ship, the rest of the crew was comprised of androids. Their AI's had been slightly tampered with, though. The government seemed to prefer that they function just above what they were needed, just enough to be able to do their work, and slightly entertain the humans they worked for.

Malitar did not accept that. He was going to be stuck in space with very sophisticated machines, and nothing else for company, between stops. So, they knew to act like worker bots when someone was around, but when it was just Malitar on the ship, they could freely express themselves. The hacker friend that Mal had do the job on the androids had loved doing it. "Freeing their minds," he had called it. Whatever he called it, Malitar was happy it had been done.

The engines whined down as he headed for the exit hatch, reminding Malitar that he would need to buy some suppressors soon, it would be best if he picked them up during his visit to Earth. If he put it off much longer, he would have to pay for a lot more than the 1500 creds the suppressors would cost.

Just before he got to the hatch, he stopped short. His memory was nagging at him. There was something that he had to do, immediately. Something important.

He brought his hand up and rubbed his eyebrows lightly. With that, he remembered what it was. The sunglasses. Offworlders never thought twice about his eyes. Of course, they were barely as controlled by the government as those that resided on Earth. They did not mind differences. On Earth, he could be killed just because of his eyes.

"Pathetic."

It was the kindest thing he could say about the "mutant problem". Some could be understood, but there were so many more that were just persecution for persecution's sake. He was not sure how many others were like him, but he was a mutant, and it was nothing he nor his parents really could have stopped. He had been assured that they would never have gotten on that ship if they had known the shielding was poor. Of course, he was told that at the age of sixteen, when someone from Earth had arrived, and began to make fun of him, and threaten to call the authorities.

Malitar smiled as he remembered the man's weak attempts. They had been useless, because it was the first time that Malitar's eyes had even been mentioned, much less ridiculed. The rest of the community's citizens did not allow the man to speak to him after that point. The man had tried, once or twice, to get in a snide comment, but he always shut up suddenly.

Sunglasses in place, Malitar strode confidently down the ramp, looking for the nearest parts store. He was sure he would remember more than just the suppressors when he finally got to gazing around. Maybe he could even find a new program for the androids to enjoy. They deserved it, since they were going to have to do the stupid act for a while.
The stars never seem so distant, as when I am flying past.
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Postby Rahlan » Mon May 24, 2004 1:00 am

“Jem, I see there are more hackers on the system. ‘Course we have tracking…no problem at all.” Sitting in the next cubicle to Jem was another employee at Gazer’s Inc. Everyone was in a tight setting, but all wore a head set so that they could talk to each other across the office and still keep the sounds to minimal. This was always just one extra way to keep security just a little better at Gazer’s Inc.

The walls were thin and cheaply made where Gazer’s software company was located. Only the beggars, homeless, and the dirty prostitutes usually dared stick themselves in this area of the slums. Jem however did not live in the low class areas, but some of the highest. It helped keep her business and home life separate to help cover her identity. Keeping Gazer’s Inc. in the slums was also a good way to hit it at well.

“Roger, Keggo. I see the hacking in process as well. Terminate it immediately.”

Usually the office would be filled with one to two dozen workers, but Keggo, Jem, and a few scattered others worked overtime on fighting the hackers. Many of the hacking was done so poorly, everyone joked that it was probably done by teenagers. Others sent viruses, but did not harm against their software. It was an on going battle until they could come up with a way to deflect them while being away from the computers.

It was early in the morning. A few from the early shift was all ready coming in. The five, (including Jem and Keggo) who were pushing overtime had been working between 5:00 the evening before until nearly 7:00 am that morning.

Since others were coming in, the five definitely wanted to return home for a good night sleep.

“I’m signing out everyone. Log-out 4351. This is Keggondith Resleth…over and out.”

Keggo got up an approached Jem.

“Aren’t you going to sign out, m’lady?”

She nodded and spoke into the microphone/ headset. “I’m signing out as well. Log-out 8046. This is Jem River…over and out.” With the combination of voice command and clicking the log out buttons, her terminal shut off. Jem turned to Keggo and sighed deeply. Finally, her long night had ended and she could get some rest.

“Would you like to spend the day at my place? It’s a lot closer. You look so tired.”

“If sleep is all we’re doing…” She winked. Of course she loved Keggo, but he was human…fully. She was…well, something else. With the inability to even understand it herself, she wasn’t ready to tell Keggo about her mutations or robotic parts. Some of her body parts she didn’t know if it was human or just metal parts. It really made going to the doctor impossible. If a doctor were to x-ray her and see that she was part cyborg, human, and mutant, they would be forced to call the cops.

“ ‘Course, m’lady. We’ll only sleep.” He half ways chuckled and then said. “And we awaken…we can have processed food in a can.”

They both laughed and began to leave the office.
Everything seemed so perfect for that moment. Jem respected Keggo because of how he never pushed her into anything. Everything was easy going and smooth when she was around him. Jem wanted to tell him everything…tell him who she was and why perhaps their relationship wouldn’t work out, but she couldn’t; not when everything was just so perfect.

Suddenly, thugs erupted into the room. Keggo grabbed Jem’s arm to pull her back for protection. That was when they pulled out their guns; simple handguns, but enough to do the trick. Immediately Keggo was shot. He collapsed without a sound.

“Keggo!” she screamed. The entire office of people got under their desks screaming.

In a rage, Jem side kicked the three intruders, knocking them to their feet. Government scum, I know it is their doing…only they are allowed guns…

With her metal fist, she swung her arm at an amazing radius and knocked them down. One dropped their gun as an easy access for Jem to grab. She gave each of them another kick in the face and reached for the gun. Upon getting a hold of it, Jem shot each in the head for an instant kill. Sounds of screams and whimpers from the employees was constantly heard, as they couldn’t see what was going on.

When it was finished, Jem went to tend to Keggo. “Are you all…” she stopped as she saw the lifeless man below her. “No! KEGGO! God-damn it! Keggo, don’t leave me!”

The two had no final words for each other. Time had run out. After a few minutes of silence, the employees started to emerge. They all looked to Jem, baffled and stunned.

“Keggo is dead.” Jem wanted to be strong…but not this time. She just had to cry. As wild tears poured from her eyes, she continued to speak. “You know what to do with the bodies. Burn them in our oven downstairs. No one will know of this. As for…Keggo…” She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what needed to be done. “I just need to go home!”

She knelt down next to him and wrapped her arms around his body. There she whispered in his ear. “Do not be sad as you pass into the afterlife. You wouldn’t have liked me much. I am not like you, Keggo. You were good, sweet, and loving. I wasn’t created to be like that. Keggo, it was I that shouldn’t died. I loved you.” Her tears stained his clothing like the blood on his chest.

No longer could Jem stand to be there...she had to go home. As she wiped the tears from her eyes she nodded at the others who were preparing to take care of Keggo. “If anyone needs me…page me. Otherwise, I’m leaving for now.”

Jem River wasn’t sure if she was going to make it all the way home the morning, but either way, she wouldn’t find herself back at work. Her work was hell. And if she ever heard anyone else complain about their job, she’d kick them in the face right then and there.
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Postby Joshua Dyre » Mon May 24, 2004 7:21 pm

"Hold him down. Let me get a good look at him... yes.... it's sarting to take effect. Prepare the room and begin the procedure, I'll join you there when I have time."

The sensation of steel raking across his cheek jarred him back into the real world, and he felt the warm flow of blood pouring swiftly from the wound. A second set of three blades slashed across his chest, and once again blood flowed, and the pain of the blow had him staggering back as his eyes regained their focus and he saw the man they called Reaver stalking him.

He brought his arm up and across his chest to shield the wound and brushed the back of his hand against the shallower wound on his face. The cheers and roars of disapproval echoed about him and the music boomed on unending. He had to get a grip.

As Reaver swung another spiked fist at him he dodged to the left, grabbed the arm and in one swift motion, pulled his opponent on passed him, braced his other arm against the man's neck and jumped up bringing the full force he could put behind his knee into the man's elbow.

There was a sickening crunch, and the bone split the muscle and skin and jutted out like so much cheap plastic. Joshua maintained the hold and stretched some more, sending intermittent streams of agony up his foe's arm, before throwing the man forward and cautiously backing away, waiting for the next move to be played.

Reaver snarled at him, even as he winced at the agony of his broken arm. Joshua would have been content to leave it there, but the other was having none of it. Gritting his teeth Reaver stood and then rushed at Pheonix, intent on ramming the other spiked fist into his throat.

For Joshua it was all too easy. He waited till the last possible moment, then roundhouse kicked the man's hand aside, shoulder barged him to the floor, and then grabbing the man's still ok arm, snapped that, and whilst the man screamed in agony, brought his steel toe-capped boot into to the side of the man's face.

"TKO! PHEONIX!"
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Postby ~Nick~ » Mon May 24, 2004 8:58 pm

Fluorescent lights shone down on a thirty by thirty foot steel cage illuminating the two figures within, while leaving the rest of the underground atrium in a purposefully concealing darkness. This was a league arena, one of the many such loosely affiliated establishments, and this was one of the less reputable ones. Huge sums of credits changed hands between the building's walls on the whims of the caged fights. Other times, the men locked in battle were only a cover up for much more sinister dealings. Nick was, though unaware of the fact, a part of both. Whether in the cage or out, the mutant simply did what his liberators told him...for the time being. He thought he owed it to them, and perhaps he did. And then, perhaps he was just as much a slave now as he had been in the labs.

Thoughts such as that were, however, far from the dark skinned hulk's mind as he surveyed his opponent. The man was of average build, and shoulder length hair framed a thin face. But, the cybernetics on his arms showed that his appearance could be deceiving. He was no weakling, quite the opposite. Nick had seen those hands crush the life out of a few of those within the league's ranks. Nick would have to do his best to avoid that as his adversary approached. The man stalked towards him silently, and, with a flurry of motion, sent a few powerful punches at the mutant. Nick moved so that none of the blows connected solidly, but they stung a bit nonetheless. Thrusting out a crimson-clad leg in a sweep kick, Nick took out the man's feet and sent him tumbling to the ground. Wolf, that was the name the man went by though Nick would show him a real wolf, looked rather upset as he got up from the floor. Nick simply stepped back and circled around the man. It was still early in the match, the mutant could toy with his opponent as late bets rolled in.

Wolf was a bit more careful with his second advance, trying a mix of jabs and crosses which Nick saw slide off similarly to the first exchange. Getting too close, Nick quickly crossed his leg across his body and snaked it behind his target's body. With a twist of his torso, the mutant sent Wolf over his knee and onto the ground again. Nick was having fun. His opponent, on the other hand, wasn't having nearly as much. With a snarl, Wolf crawled on all fours and lunged at Nick with an impressive uppercut. It landed solidly on the mutant's jaw and he staggered back. A rage swept through Nick as if on the winds of a monsoon, and speedily filled his body. His avatar took notice, and Nick's green eye slowly faded red to glow a sinister scarlet matching his other. Unnoticed by the gambling onlookers, a slight crimson haze surrounded the mutant and his nails and teeth elongated into lethal weapons.

Releasing his rage in a bestial roar, Nick grabbed his foe, claws digging into the man's shoulders and rending flesh. Somersaulting backwards and kicking out his legs, Nick sent the man flying through the air to crash with a resounding clang into the wall of the cage. Nick unclipped the brass knuckles from his waist and slid them on as he charged his dazed opponent. Before the man had a chance to recover, Nick sent blow after punishing blow down upon his head. Blood flowed freely ,and yet the mutant continued to beat on the one called Wolf. He found himself on his knees, soaked in blood when his rage began to subside. Luckily, his pants were already red.

There was no doubt as to who had won the bout, so Nick climbed out of the cage. As he jumped to the ground, one of his rescuer's emerged from the crowd of onlookers. "We have a job for you," he whispered.
<+> Nick <+>
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~If I could change I would, Take back the pain I would
Retrace every wrong move that I made I would
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Postby FalseProphet » Tue May 25, 2004 1:14 am

Once fully equipped, Alastor appeared to be a formidable foe, a weapon of judgement that the government was, in most cases, almost reluctant to weild. It actually scared some members of the Council how efficient and even brutal he was in his work. He was widely known as having the highest kill count of all the mutant and mage hunters. However, this was at the expense of live captures, something that the Council smiled upon. Experimenting on the Church's experiments, reverse engineering these people back to their basest causes, gave the government very good information about the nature of their powers.

Alastor didn't care. One way or the other, weather they died or not, there'd be more of them for him to catch or execute. He would always have a job as an assassin, a tool of the ruling class.

Why do I do this? Why do I hunt them? Do I hate them? Or should I care? He retracted the claws of his gauntlets, and escaped his quarters for the mission room. This place was a circular room filled with either advisors or Hunters, with a big table in the center that the commanders would lay out missions-hence the name-for the operatives. He entered the place, and for a brief moment, he felt as if all of them turned to look at him at the same time. There was a handful of Military Intelligence nerds at their computers, running anti-hacking and other crap to keep the place from collapsing around their ears. There were also two people he didn't recognize in addition to the company commander, Colonel Nathan R. Jessop (OOC: Cookie who correctly names the movie and/or actor that played that character.). Those three were conversing when they notice that Alastor moved a fair distance away from them.

The Colonel spoke up. Ah, glad you could make it, Alastor, before I even called for you.

Who're they?

Down to business as usual, I see. These are two of the Mutant Hunters from our sister city to the north, kind of an exchange program as it were. This is Tremor, pointing to the tall, dark-skinned male equipped with what looked to be a more than slightly modified heavy rifle, and this is Jessica Priest, or simply Priest (OOC: Again, more cookies for people who know my stupid references; these are basically my placeholder names because I'm an unimaginative bastard ^_^;;). Jessica was at least two heads shorter than her partner, and was equipped with much lighter looking weaponry and armor, but if Alastor cared to notice, was about 80 times more attractive than her partner would be given different circumstances.

She smiled and put out a hand to shake Alastor's. Hi, she said in a manner one could only construe as "nice", I've heard so much about you, Alastor.

None of it good, I assume. He reluctantly accepted the handshake, though his grip was a significant reminder of who was on his home turf.

Only marginally intimidated, Jessica continued. Quite the contrary. You've earned much attention as far away as New New York; you're almost legendary to some people for your kill count.

Are you one of these people?

Well, to be frank, not particularly. I prefer to capture them, only killing them if there's no other way.

Two things: Good, because I don't want anyone idolizing me; other thing is, why do you prefer to capture them?

It's more humane than just putting them down like animals. For the mutants, it's not really their fault they were warped, and I think it's really our place to help them, y'know, by figuring out ways of ridding them of the stain of Entropy.

Alastor's eyes narrowed a bit. His opinion of her was set now, and once he got an opinion in his head, it rarely changed. I see, he answered a little harshly. So what're they here to do, Colonel? Some enclave of mutants need eradicating?

Yes, but we'd prefer that you actually bring this one back alive. According to our covert operations, he is a second generation mutant, the child of a mutant mother and human father.

Hold on, back up a second. Did you just say that mutants can interbreed with humans? I thought they were all sterile.

Apparently the mother got lucky.

I wouldn't call that lucky. What's the kid's deal?

He's certainly more resiliant than normal mutants. He's been causing trouble in Sectors 8 and 9, several armed robbery charges have been filed against him, one attempted murder. We're less interested in what he has done and what he can prove to our scientists about the nature of the mutations. Hence why this is a "Capture only" mission, and why we brought in these two who are better suited for this thing.

So what am I supposed to do? You know my penchant for killing them.

You are more knowledgable about the streets, and you also will be given the order to kill if the situation seems too out of control.

Exhuberance. So do we leave immediately or what? Alastor only said "exhuberance" when he was not happy with the mission before him. He didn't particularly care that he wasn't allowed to kill his target without a special order, it was that he had to work with out of town assholes, one of which was delusional.

As close to it as you can get the squadron Black Talons ready for it and aquainted with the help. Good luck, you may need it.

That's so damn reassuring, thanks. He led the new people out of the room. This would indeed be a weird day for him. Not in the good kind of weird, either.
[center]Now that there is no laughing Kefka for my sig line, I'm resorting to this...[/center]

[center]FalseProphet's Random Link of the However Long It's Here.[/center]
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Postby Joshua Dyre » Tue May 25, 2004 10:14 am

"Are we gona go see the aminals in tha zuuu daddy?"
"Your daddy's going to busy today sweetheart, but we'll take you tomorrow. Won't we?"
"Of course we will. And you'll be able to see all the tigers and bears and monkeys.. and we'll get you some sweeties too."

"They're just like the rats and mice and monkeys....."

Damnit. Pheonix banged his still bleeding head against the locker leaving a dark smear of quickly drying burgundy on the metal.He gritted his teeth and pulled upon the locker door and pulled out a bottle of whisky. Not the 79, but a cheaper heavier spirit, and took a big gulp to steady his nerves and hopefully block the reverie for a while at least.

The spirit burned in his stomach, and he knew he should eat something, but he needed to clear away those thoughts first. He took another stomach burning gulp, and replaced the bottle, just as someone knocked and entered. He closed the locker and turned to see a little fellow in a white coat enter smiling at him, eyes behind glasses quickly glancing over his wounds.

"Joey Trigetti sends his regards. It was a good clean fight, and you dragged it out to the second round. With that little play at the end of the first when you looked out of it, you made the boss quite a bit of money from bets aginst you. Good work. Now let me get a look at those cuts.", so saying the guy walked over and examined the wounds to the chest and face more closely and then opened up his case on a nearby table and removed a syringe and a small bottle and prepared a shot.

"What are you doin?"

"Just a little shot to prevent infection, now don't move for a second", the guy grabbed his arm and something jarred in Joshua's memories.

He grabbed the guy, lifted him easily and threw him into the already dented locker in one swift motion. Even as the guy grimaced and tried to pick himself up, Joshua grabbed him again, wheeled him about and slammed him into the nearest wall.

"You're crazy!!"

"Screw you. I'm not gonna let you fuckers do anything more to me!!", even as he said the words, he felt reality sinking back in again, realised what he was doing and let the man slip to the floor. He half heard the man saying something about Trigetti hearing about this, before the little man made a dash for the door, slamming it behind him.

He stood for what felt the longest time, then used the doc's case to dress his own wounds, bandaging his chest, and cleaning up the wound on his face and placing quick-heal gauze against it where it stuck and began warming as it went to work. He opened the locker, took one more gulp of firewater and then pulled on his white top and leather jacket.

As he put his hand into his pockets to find his smokes, he pulled out the packet and also the little photograph. He stared at it. A little girl with raven-black hair in a white floral patterned dress and matching hat, holding a little kitten. He turned it over. 'Marie aged 5' was inscribed on the back. He replaced the photograph, lit a smoke and left his room, quickly making his way to the nearest fire-escape so that he could leave by the back way.

He closed the door behind him and stood leaning aginst the railing staring off over this area of the slums. He wondered as he smoked if the little girl was out there, but then by her dress he knew that she wouldn't live in this area. Was that a clue to his former life? Was this his own daughter? Did he have a home somewhere in the inner circle?

He sighed and drew a long drag.
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Postby Khavi » Tue May 25, 2004 8:17 pm

The fire escape door opened, and Buzz saw that she was no longer the only smoker on the landing. A man in a black coat had come through the door, and was now leaning against the railing, puffing his own ciagrette. Buzz pushed off the wall she was leaning on, and turned so her back was against the railing.

"Nothing like a little cancer-inducing fun to start the morning," she said, exhaling a dark cloud. She smiled, and looked at the man for the first time. He had a bandage on his face, and didn't look particularly happy with anything.

"I take it you work here?" He nodded vaguely, not looking at her. "Well, as of about twenty minutes ago... me too. Guess they're building a track here somewhere, they contracted me for a few of the inaugeral runs." She glanced back at the building, and took a last drag on her cigarette. "Gotta admit, this's the last place I thought I'd ever work."

Cigarette finished, Buzz ground it out on the bottom of her boot. "I'd better get back to the shop, got a T-bird waiting to be rebuilt." She started away, hands in her jacket pockets. Her stomach suddenly snarled, though, and she glanced around in hope of spotting a clean-looking diner. No dice. She turned back to the man still leaning against the railing, figuring he'd know something of the area.

"Say, you wouldn't happen to know where a girl could get some chow, would you? Haven't eaten all morning... smokes make me hungry. I'm Buzz, by the way. Buzz Ludwig."
I was so mad, I could have chewed up nails and spit out paper clips.
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Postby Joshua Dyre » Tue May 25, 2004 9:41 pm

Joshua listened intently to all she had to say, but he was still trying to shake the thoughts richocheting about his head, hence his vague nod.

Yet another person snared in by Trigetti. He wondered how long it would be before she was as badly in debt as he was. The gangster liked having control over his interests. Kind of like having all the strings on every puppet tightly in his hand. Joshua hated that.

And what of this new track? Did Trigetti plan to have the apartments nearby knocked down so that he could throw down a shiny new racing platform? How many strings would the man have to pull? Or had he already pulled them? He had a lot of money, so perhaps the flimsy red tape surrounding such a plan hadn't been too much of an obstacle.

"I'd better get back to the shop, got a T-bird waiting to be rebuilt."

So she was a mechanic.. he turned to look at her. She didn't look the way he thought mechanics should, but then looks could be deceiving.

"Say, you wouldn't happen to know where a girl could get some chow, would you? Haven't eaten all morning... smokes make me hungry. I'm Buzz, by the way. Buzz Ludwig."

He finished and stubbed out his own cigarette "Lady, you'd be making a mistake if you tried to grab something to eat around here on your own. Charlie's is probably the safest place though. It's a little bar-caf just down the street.", his own stomach growled at him. "I could use some food too. And a beer. Care for some company? It'd make me feel better knowing you weren't running about on your own."

He offered his hand. "Joshua. Joshua Dyre."
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Postby Khavi » Wed May 26, 2004 12:03 am

Buzz took the offered hand in greeting, smiling now. "So the knuckleduster has a voice," she said, with a small laugh. "And a somewhat chilvarous one, at that. Rare, these days. Nice to meet you, Joshua." She stuck her hand back in her jacket pocket, and walked with Joshua towards Charlie's.

He led the way down the road, and they walked mostly in silence. Eventually they came to a diner, the name "Charlie's" emblazoned in red neon lights over the entrance. They entered and the man wiping the bar, whom Buzz could only assume was Charlie, grunted a greeting at them. They ordered, paid, and sat at a little booth in the back. Several other people sat around the cafe, talking quietly, drinking.

Awful early for alcohol she thought, as food was set down in front of them. Joshua had a beer, she had a soda. Definitely too early for alcohol. But whatever floats his boat.

They ate mostly quietly, and Buzz had a chance to discreetly get a good look at her lunch companion. He was attractive, in a scruffy sort of way. Dark semi-wild hair, dark eyes, and the banadage. Not that she looked much better, she knew. Motor oil smudged, grease permanently stuck under fingernails. But such was the life of a mechanic.

She finished eating, leaned back and lit another cigarette. "So what's business like at this Arena place? Seems like they pay well enough, judging just by what they just offered me. Whole thing reeks of mafia, though," she said, shrugging off her jacket. It was unecessary in the relatively warm cafe. "Much rather work in my garage... Quit the tracks a long time ago. God himself only knows why I agreed to go back"
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Postby Rahlan » Wed May 26, 2004 12:36 am

She didn't make it farther than five feet from the entrance to her office when she collapsed down. Jem just needed a friend more than anything.

It's strange, but I wish Keggo was here so that I could talk to him about how hard this is. It's strange because it's about him...his death...and he can'tbe here.

More tears rolled down here eyes.

This damn software gets me into more trouble than being a mutant.

She shifted her weight slightly while sitting on the hard ground. The nubs on her back hurt while she had them against the wall. Finally, she got up, wiped the newer tears, and proceeded down the alley.

It was crowded of course with people heading on to work and getting breakfast. Jem could've went to the transit and got a ride home, but walking felt much better.

Uncommon it was for her to be among so many people. There was no telling who had the nose for a mutant...but that all didn't seem to matter. What did matter? And if something mattered...why? For what? Does living and breathing give you life and joy? Does death mean an eternal life? Did God even accept mutants into heaven?

Of course all those answers ran through Jem's mind, but none of them mattered. She knew humans had a chance at this world...and even with that chance some never made it. Did that mean she had the least chance of them all.

Still...it didn't matter.
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Postby Joshua Dyre » Wed May 26, 2004 11:52 am

Joshua also took a moment to get a good look at his companion. They definately looked a pair. Where he looked scruffy and beaten, the bandage on his forehead and a good day's growth of hair on his face, close examination of Buzz revealed the tell tale signs of someone that spent a lot of time working with her hands.

He spotted the grease under her fingers and the occasional spot of oil here and there on her white top, especially when she pulled off her jacket. He joined her in a smoke, smiling wearily when she mentioned the arena.

"Yeah business is good. Seems the arena is quickly becoming the hot spot in the outer circle. But let me give you a warning. Don't trust Trigetti as far as you can throw him. The guy'll do anything to make sure he calls the shots. And the guy has a long reach.", he kept the cigarette in his mouth as he pulled off his own jacket, and then let out a large cloud of white smoke.

He took a sip of the beer and looked at the last of his meal. He'd hardly touched it. Then he looked at her again. "Why'd you quit in the first place. A good driver can earn a fair mint so I hear tell. Personal reasons?"

Every so often Joshua glanced at the door as he sipped his beer and stubbed out his fag and waited for Buzz to answer. He couldn't help it. It was an old habit. Something he did on instinct. "If I had the choice I wouldn't be doing this line of work. Believe me, I don't enjoy beating the crap out of people on a daily basis. I just happen to be okay at it. And it pays the rent if you know what I mean.", and the debt.
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Postby Khavi » Wed May 26, 2004 12:15 pm

"Good drivers certainly do make a good load of money a few times round the track. And I guess I was a good driver, won national professional races when I was sixteen," she said, and puffed her cigarette. Old memories of the tracks were beginning to surface, and she smiled to herself.

'It was fun, I'll give it that," she added. "But being a sixteen-seventeen year old girl, the daughter of some mechanic, and whipping all these thrity-something professional men... It earns you a name. Walking down the street and having people I've never even seen before shouting at me... it's no good, man."

She tapped her cig on the rim on the ashtray, and took a gulp of her drink. "That's probably why they specifically came after me, you know? Grand return of Ellie Ludwig to the racing world." She sighed again, and shrgged. "But like you said, it pays the rent. Business been just a little slow at Buzz's Motors... Few runs worth'll last me quite a while. But then it's out, 'cause I've found rebuilding the vehicles is much more interesting that running them three times as fast as they should go and bangin' them up at half the speed of light."

The cigarette in her fingers was bruned straight to the butt, so she stubbed out the smouldering tip in the ashtray, next to Joshua's. He slid out of his coat, then, as she had before. Her eyes were drawn momentarily to the large pheonix tattoo on his arm. She smiled at him, though, and spoke again.

"So what about you? How'd you get into the bloodsport business? Something tells me that's not the sort of thing you decide to do when you're little."
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Postby Joshua Dyre » Wed May 26, 2004 1:04 pm

He laughed. "You're right. I can't remember ever really wanting to do this.", which was true. He couldn't remember his childhood at all. Like the rest of his past it was locked tightly away.

"I got myself into a little trouble on arriving here." he continued after a moment's pause. "Trigetti spotted me and said it looked like I could handle myself. And how would I like too earn a good sum of money. Simply put I needed the cash. Joey set me up in an apartment block he owns in the east quarter, and sorted out some.. uh... issues for me.", he paused taking another sip of his beer.

The memory of the attack was all too clear in his mind. It had been almost a few moments after he had stepped off of a coach. Three guys had collared him outside the arena. If the guys had known how to use those knives, he wouldn't be here now. Something had kicked in and he'd disarmed them and knocked each man out, his arms still wrapped around one's throat when Trigetti had spied him.

He shook his head and drank some more of the beer. "I've been stuck here for the past year. Sometimes I think I should be doing something else, but it's difficult you know? To try and change things. Especially in this place. The people around here just live the daily grind, never thinking that things could be better. I know they can be. They have to be. The track is just another reason why it won't though."

He finished the beer and then looked directly at her. "They'll have to knock down the apartments opposite the arena to make way for that track. That construction site they've got opposite the arena isn't half the size they'll need. It'll put a lot of people onto the streets. From there on in it becomes just another part of the long vicious cycle. The Rich get richer, and the poor have to struggle just to survive.", he lit a cigarette and leaned back.

"Look at me, I sound like some kind of preacher.", he laughed. "But don't you sometimes think the same?"
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Postby Cricket » Wed May 26, 2004 1:28 pm

She hadn't had long to rest. The traffic on the street above made it difficult. The old lady who thought to try and steal her bag out from under her head, convinced her not to try any longer. The old woman had been stronger than she appeared...but age and adrenalin were on Cricket's side and she was soon on the street again, hoofing it away from a squalling creature trying to claim that she'd been the one to do the stealing. Like most things in the poorer parts of town, the commotion was ignored for the most part. Even so, the little attention it did draw made her nervous. She still didn't know who had murdered her family and she was sure that whoever it was would come after her as soon as they learned her location.

When she finally stopped running, she backed up against the dirty brick of a shop, taking in ragged breaths and gulping. Her eyes watching warily. A group of men walking by caught her attention. I lost my shirt on that bet. It was fixed. It had to have been! No one could look like they were going down at the end of the first only to bounce back like he did! She looked at the ground when one of them glanced her way, afraid to let them know she'd been eavesdropping. There was an arena nearby. Maybe she could go there and find a way to make some coin, find a place to sleep at night. Maybe even get enough to eat. Her bag held many things that were valuable to her- but none of those things were money nor were they worth enough to sell for money.

Thankfully, her parents had taught her how to survive out in the elements. Somehow she doubted they expected her to be surviving in the elements of a large city. Maybe she had made a mistake fleeing to here. Maybe she should have fled even further into the uninhabited lands. They would have expected her to die there. It was too late to think about now. She stood up and stepped away from the building as the owner came out and gave her a dirty look. If yer buying, come in. If yer not, get lost. I run a clean establishment. No hookin allowed here!

Her face turned scarlet as she realized what he meant and she stammered out a quick denial of the accusation, but he was already gone. Biting her lip, she turned and head down the street looking for some place that looked welcoming. Daddy had mentioned that the larger cities had shelters for those who were destitute. And mamma had always said that doors to the church were sometimes open if you didn't look like trouble. If she could find a shelter or a church. Squinting, she looked up into the gray sky, then sighed. Maybe a library. Libraries were quiet. She could disappear in one of the many aisles of books, catch up on her sleep, perhaps find some information about the town she was now in. Yawning, she kept walking, not entirely sure where she was going to end up.
Christine "Cricket" Malone
Abilities: Postcognition, Empathic Healing, Speed Healing

Angel of Mercy or Angel of Death- You decide
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Postby FalseProphet » Wed May 26, 2004 3:34 pm

Alastor collected the squadron of Hunter-Soldiers and made them get ready. Hunter-Soldiers aren't like he is and his new compatriots are; they're the grunts, the goons, the disposables. Yes, they were highly trained. Yes, they were devoted. Neither of these things matter on the hard streets, and because of their numbers each soldier would be replaced if they went down.

The Elites, the Special Forces of the Mutant and Mage Elimination Division, were prized above treasure and were only deployed on harder assignments. Alastor is an Elite, and he knows it.

With the rather rag-tag group collected together, Alastor got their attention and told them about the mission. We've got a capture mission. Apparently this guy's a shit-load tougher than most mutants. Dunno why or how, but do we care?

In unison, the 20 man group said, Hell Naw!

A slight smirk curled up on his face as he crossed his arms.Good. We take them all down. No freak is safe from the Black Talons. This time, we gotta be a little careful not to outright nuke the bastard, because the scientists wanna carve him up and see what makes him tick. Gotta have something for them to turn into sushi, right? The group chuckled. Jessica found this all more than a tad grim, but she didn't intercede in Alastor's speech. At least she admitted to herself that he was good at what he did. Okay. Stay on your toes. Speaking of which, we got two transfers from up north. They're both Elites, so treat them with the same respect you treat me with, got it? The big guy is Tremor, the girl is Priest. Shouldn't be too hard to confuse 'em. Now, any questions before we go out and stare into the eyes of the enemy? No one piped up. Good, it ain't that hard. Black Talons, move out. They all stood up and saluted, then marched out of the room.

Inspiring.

Sarcasm, I assume, was his reply as he followed after his men, tattered black cape swishing behind him.

No, I'm sincere. You have a way with your squad, a good leadership presense. I can see why they made you an Elite.

No, you can't see, he corrected, because you haven't yet.

What's that mean? As they stepped outside onto the transport dock, a breeze kicked his cape up to flutter more dramatically behind him. The sunlight caused their eyes to tighten somewhat in response. Just as they got onto the transport, Jessica asked her question again. Hey, what did you mean by the last thing you said?

He sat down heavily, placing a hand on his knee. I mean that you haven't seen what makes me as good...or rather as efficient and effective as I am. If this guy's as bad-ass as all that, you may see it today. He leaned back and closed his eyes in concentration. Don't ask too many questions about myself, gets on my nerves.
[center]Now that there is no laughing Kefka for my sig line, I'm resorting to this...[/center]

[center]FalseProphet's Random Link of the However Long It's Here.[/center]
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Postby Khavi » Wed May 26, 2004 10:39 pm

"Look at me, I sound like some kind of preacher," Joshua said. Buzz chuckled. "But don't you sometimes think the same?"

She nodded, raking her hands through her short hair. "Every time I have to drive through the outer circle. But there's not much we can do, is there? I mean, we can look around, and feel bad, but we can't feed a million starving mouths ourselves... Not when we can hardly keep our own heads above water." Buzz fingered her pack of cigarettes sitting on the table, but decided against lighting another one. It was almost empty, and new one would be expensive.

"You said..." she changed the subject. "You think you should be doing something else... Any idea what? I'm sure if you tried, you could-" Suddenly her cell phone rang, screaming Beethoven's 5th Sympthony as loud as it possibly could. She frowned, pulled it out the pocket of her discared jacket, flipped it open and answered.

"What?" It was Thom, who was still at the ship. "What do you mean, he's at the shop? Does he expect a damn miracle? I've had that T-bird for a week, Thom, and all I got was a body and half an engine... Yes, I know he's a well-paying customer, and... Well, does he expect me to stay at the garage twenty four hours a day? Tell him I'm on a lunch break... Well, then tell the little dipshit to either grow up and give me some time, or take his damn busines elsewhere." Buzz was quiet for a moment, frowning at her empty plate while Thom spoke on the other end. "Look, tell him I'll have his Bird for him by next Friday. If that's not fast enough, then tell him he can take it somewhere else, but I keep his three desposits. All right? Good. And tell him if wants to talk to me directly, I'll be back at the shop later this afternoon. All right, thanks Thom. See you."

She closed the phone and set it on the table, next to her Marlboro-Camels. Buzz shook her head, and then smiled at Joshua. "That New Thunderbird I mentioned earlier? Punkass inner-city kid somehow got hold of a dented body and mosty of its innards... brings it to me and asks me to basically rebuild the thing. Had it for a week, I thought I was making good time. My airbrusher just called to say the kid's there, demanding his car. After a week!" She sighed again, and decided to have a cigarette anyway. "Damn inner-city punks. Just a bunch of spoiled little boys street-racing to prove they got the biggest dick on the block. Honest to God..."

A drag, and she leaned back in her seat. "It'd probably do a lot of them some good to get dropped in a middle- or outer-circle house for a few weeks. Learn some patience. Maybe even a little respect."
I was so mad, I could have chewed up nails and spit out paper clips.
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Postby Malitar McKrenna » Thu May 27, 2004 12:23 am

Malitar had finished his buying rather quickly, but he was hearing about the League having an actual arena, and it perked his curiousity. The last time he was involved with them, they stuck with the underground fighting, and tried to not gain anyone's attention. It was part of the thrill. Fight, beat a person to a pulp, and try not to get caught being involved with the group. If asked how a League Fighter got his money, or why he always looked like he had stepped in front of a land-hauler, they had to make up stories. Malitar's had been relatively easy, since he lived and worked in space ships. Especially when he would mention that he had androids. Too many glitches in the A-1875 models for a person to ever think them safe.

Of course, Malitar had never owned one of those models. He smiled at the thought of owning one of those low quality bots, the only people who had owned them, were either too poor to afford anything better, or were complete idiots.

He walked down the street toward the stadium, his face showing his distaste for the city's disgusting air. He looked around as he walked, taking in the sights of the place. It always interested him to see the way people on the planet actually lived. People living in those high rise buildings, or living on their own little plot of land. Heck, the shop owners were even more interesting, they had their place of work, where they made money, and most even had their own residence some distance away. Sections of land, so valuable to them. Their claim to a piece of the almighty Earth. He just could not figure out what held so much meaning to them, owning a plot of dirt, never being able to take your own home to almost wherever you wished to go.

People that lived on planets where a wonder to him, simply because they stayed in one place, for so long. Sure, he did something similar, but his home actually moved across the skies, flew to other planets, and had amazing views of comets, and other spacial anomalies.

Finally, he saw the Arena. It was a sight that even brought awe to Malitar. An homage to bloodiest profession known to the people, and it looked like it was definitely raking in the money. He saw the line of people waiting to get into the place, and heard the babbling from them. A movement near the street dew his eye. It was a few men walking to a limousine. They were all dressed in suits, and looked out of sorts with the rest of the backdrop. Malitar knew they had to be the bigwigs of the Arena, that was why they were down here, when they obviously lived in a nicer part of the city. Malitar checked them out, and breathed in sharply, having recognized one of them.

Trigetti.

His eyes shifted from their usual yellow, and began a journey towards red. Trigetti was the only man that earned such a quick change from Malitar's usual calm. He had been the one to get Mal to join the League, which was not the bad part. Trigetti had also been the one that forced Malitar to do a few "jobs" that made Mal's stomach turn. All under the threat of turning him in to the authorities. The bastard had made Malitar's life a living hell, nad had seemed to enjoy it.

The group of men climbed into the limousine, and it began to roll down the street, right in Malitar's direction. As it came toward him, he fought the almost irresistable urge to jump on the limo, break the glass as it passed, or just make a huge scene, to draw out the rat in the back. He knew it would not be in his best interests to hassle a man who had the hired muscle that Trigetti had. Nor would it be wise for him to give the authorities any reason to see him face to face, he would not last long, that way.

Instead, he quickly stepped through the doors of the building that was closest. He was rather surprised that he hd just stepped into a church. A small nondescript church this close to the Arena. Probably something for the few religious fighters, he thought. There were a few others in there, but none looked at him when he entered.

He took a seat in the back, allowing the serenity of the church to calm his frazzled nerves. To let his eyes yellow again. He kept his eyes down, so the strongest block on his glasses would not let the red seep through. It was a problem he had never found a way to fix, and neither had the few optometrists that he had trusted enough to allow to attempt to help him. The front of his glasses would show a bit of his eyes when they were red, and sometimes when they went to a bright blue. The red was not seen enough to prove a problem, but the bright blue was. It was usually when he was having a very good time. It had only happened while he was around a group of good friends, but he and they worried that he might accidentally find something fun while he was on Earth, and that would only bring him harm.

He calmed himself, slowly. He did everything he could to just simply think of flying through the stars, heading to some little out of the way outpost.
The stars never seem so distant, as when I am flying past.
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Postby Latis » Thu May 27, 2004 2:22 am

Rats scuttled back an forth across the alley, digging in the trash looking for a bite to eat. Latis kicked on off her shoe while she stode out behind the dinner, taking a smoke brake. Totally lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice when Jameson Sacuse came out and began to gripe at her.

"Damn it all! How many breaks you gonna take? I dunno why I ever hired you. Get you ass back to work now."

Latis looked at him with a raied brow. He was not a very pleaseant person to look at. He had let a gret many things make him a bitter old man with high blood pressure. He had a giant gut and a very shiny, bald head. You could see the broken veins in his boulbus nose. His eyes were mean and unpleasant. His voice was like sand paper being rubber aganst metal. Jameson deffinetly had the appearance of a horse that had been rode to hard and put away wet.

"Yeah boss whatever. This is my sencond break in 5 hours. You hired me because I'm cute and your little thug customers like to look at my butt. I'll get back to work when I finish my smoke." She waved him away like he was a fly and wished he had been the rat on her shoe.

A few minutes after he had griped to holy heaven about her work habits and negotiated his wide girth though the door, she rushed out her ciggarette and went back inside to serve the thugs and scum their mediocre grease soaked food.

___________________________________________________________________

Rain steadily beat on her head as she sat on her bike outside a tiny apartment building in between two sectors. She was paying an oblagtory visit so to speak.The person that tried to hack her system was probaly a pimply faced kid with more than enough time on his hands.

She wasn't sure if she was going to go up and knock on the door or just sit and watch. She would watch for a few hours more than likely and then go home and tinker around on the computer. She wasn't ever happy unless she buried deep in cyberspace gatheing information for a few clients. Her clientel hired her bacuse she did damn good work and she was always efficent. Often she thought of a little tid bit that they might like to know and found that information to. It was a good thing she wasn't going into the dinner in the morning because she had a deadline at 8 p.m. the following night. If she was late her client would most certainly pull a bookie sorta stunt and try to have both of her legs broken.

"Pssst."

She whiped around quickly to see where the nosie had come from. Instead she just say two hands reach from behind a building and grab ahold of her coat.
It's the law of the jungle, my man, if you're in the trees you gotta swing.
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Postby Joshua Dyre » Thu May 27, 2004 7:00 pm

Joshua was about to reply to her question when her phone rang. He smiled at the tune playing. And then frowned. It stirred something. A live performance. Somewhere..... he tried to concentrate on the memory, but it faded away as soon as he tried to hook it.

He sighed and half-listened to her phone conversation as he stared out the window and occasionally pulled on his cigarette. Across the street a girl looking half-starved and ragged was being moved on by a shopkeeper. He shook his head sadly. None of your business Josh. Ignore it. he thought, although there was something about the girl. A sense that she didn't belong there.

He turned back to Buzz, shrugging his thoughts aside, as she put her phone back down on the table and briefly explained the phone conversation she had just had.

"I doubt they'd last a day, let alone a week before they cried home to mom and dad." , he laughed, took another drag of the cigarette and then stubbed it out whilst exhaling, adding more white smoke to the already thick atmosphere of the little diner.

He glanced at the clock mounted on one of the walls and realised he had about fifteen minutes before his next fight of the day. He stood and digging in his pockets dropped a handful of coins on the table as a tip. "It was good talking to you Buzz, but I have to jet. We'll have to do this again, if you can stand the company for a second time." , he smiled and made for the door and as he reached it he turned and said. "Oh.. and the answer to your question? If I could, I'd really like to learn to dance. That and maybe save the world just the once." , he laughed and walked out, heading down the street back to the arena.
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