Phylum, Our Home

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by J_"Kraken", Feb 4, 2014.

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  1. July 17th, 2443

    milNet. The world's top producer of high-tech electronics, computers, and other hardware. Each and every device they churned from production was an instant success, and yet their sales were plummeting all the same. Some hushed whispers said it was Peterson Futuristics' involvement, others stated it was their poor business model and refusal to give regular development progress. The fact that they would be so desperate as to seek a rag-tag band of Underground scum showed that it was something all together more serious.

    They had come on June 31st, the men in the suits with their bodyguards. Each one some form of executive, or executive's assistant, or manager, or some whole other term that meant "we do business". After several tense evenings of an utterly silent Underground, these men finally started advertising their purpose: they needed a team of anyone willing to go balls-deep for some credits. Once or twice they vaguely mentioned what this job entailed, but for the most part, this op seemed to be in the Grey*.

    Once the looters, rapers, gangbangers, thugs, whores, and the like were sorted out, only four remained as "the best ones for the job" as the exec's put it. Still, showing their obvious trust for this Runner team, they knocked them out one by one and brought them to an unmarked warehouse on the other side of Phylum for the briefing process....

    As you awaken, a lone man in a crisp uniform sits waiting across an old desk. Your wrists, feet, and hand are unbound. You are not gagged, if anything, all that ails you is a pounding head. The man waits a while before beginning to ask the usual "pre-op" questions. How many times have you been in action? Any for the big names? Do you have other criminal records you aren't showing us? Is this your first op? Do you know what milNet produces? And so on. As an introduction and show of your writing style, write the interview with your character, leaving with something along the lines of "Thank you, now if you would please exit to the right here and allow the person behind you to enter the chamber."

    *The term for any illegal or otherwise "kept behind closed doors" operation, typically done by corporations only.
  2. Jack wakes up in a dusty old warehouse; he turns to look at his surroundings and notices that he is in a office and a uniformed man sitting across from him on a old desk. He places his left hand on his head thinking of the headache he had... he looked at the man again as he started to ask him questions "I have been in dozens of operations which as you know by my presence here all have been a success; I have no criminal records and the operations I do with my clients remain confidential. I know Milnet produces high-tech electronics but it's not my intention to know what they do... I care for only the job at hand and nothing more. I go in get the job done and go out no complications no lingering feelings... and at the end of the day I just want the money I have been promised and everything else is fine and dandy" the man takes notes and tells him to step out, Jack slowly stood up taking his trench coat and putting it on, he then walked off and exited the door.
  3. Nils groggily wakes up and looks around. His eyes land on the uniformed man. "hmm..not bound, no guards, no visible weapon...ok you are not here to kill me" After Nils talks out loud the officer begins his questions. "hmmm..defines by what you mean by 'in action', if you mean actual hired jobs caring after 20. As for actual companies you know that I only worked for criminals, and judging by the fact that I am not in prison you obviously don't care. You know my criminal records since the grenade I had hidden in my pants is missing." He smiles mischievously" "as for if this is my first op I would say no, I have had off days that were more dangerous than most ops. As for milNet they produce various consumer electronics as well as several forays into weapons research" He smiles as the officer looks at him suspiciously "hey you have my file, you should know I have contacts in the weapons industry". Nils leans forward "as long as I get paid and I get to have fun I will be cooperative." Nils stands up and puts on his light jacket, he then exits the door and sees a man in a trench coat standing in the hallway as well.
  4. "Have you been recorded for any other crimes after your discrepancy with the gang members two years previous?" The man asked in a reedy voice, flipping over his notebook casually. He'd clearly given this burn several times before.

    "Of, loads of 'em." Jarred replied, giving that trademark grin of his: the one that if you knew him it made you afraid. "Take your pick."

    "Other accounts of murder, rape, etc." The interviewer replied, eyes flitting to the back of the room and back to Jarred.

    He paused, taking a cigarette from his interior coat pocket, much to the terror of the interviewer who moved his wrist to press a button on the interior of the desk. Jarred rose an amused eyebrow and offered the man a smoke, shrugging his shoulders in a 'I can't help it' way. Declining the offer with a shallow grin, the interviewer went on, clearing his throat.

    "Look, I can still deny your acceptance into the program." He went on, letting the statement trail off for a while.

    "Well, far as I know, bounty hunting in general is illegal." Jarred replied, puffing out a foul-smelling chem compound that substituted the normal tobacco smoke. "But if you want specifics...." The pause went on.

    "Go on."

    "Three accounts of first degree murder-" The interviewer cut him off.

    "Three? I thought your rule was 'nobody dies."

    Jarred let out a sharp laugh and tossed the cigarette butt at the interviewer. "You corps don't get it. I don't kill the target. Hell, killin' without getting caught is the best thing a man can accomplish."

    Flicking the cigarette butt from his jacket, the interviewer sighed and went on. "Anything else we should know?"

    "Oh, 'course. Fifteen separate accounts of theft, shoplifting, and counterfeiting." Jarred grinned, proud of the accomplishments. "Not that that's the big-shocker."

    "Never arrested for those?"

    "'Naw. They just added those to my gel-time after I got caught for putting down twelve smug bastards for-"

    "I read all that. Get on with your criminal activities."

    He paused, then said slowly. "None that I can recall. I might be missing some."


    "No. I'm not, I'm not." Jarred finally stated, realizing he had to be entirely black or white with this white collar.

    The interviewer grunted, scribbling something on the notepad before him that looked suspiciously like a 'zero'. He stood up and offered a hand to Jarred, attempting to look all spic-and-span professional worker. Jarred took the hand and shook it, giving the interviewer an equally hollow smile as he walked towards the door, letting the holster of his pistol show to the man as he opened the door into the foul, smog-cloaked air of Phylum....

    Today's gonna' be a good day....
  5. Jarred spat as he looked left and right to see his two companions. All around them was about the closest thing to silence you could get in Phylum. Several cars drove on the wide streets and an occasional Mag-Lev would roll above their heads, but for the most part, it was quiet.

    "You the two guys Mr. Corp. told me about?" Jarred spoke up, clicking a lighter and bringing it to his cigarette. He let it sit in his mouth before puffing out a cloud of blue smoke.

    As he spoke, he made sure to unroll and check his firearm. Six shots, safety off, clicked and ready to go. Good. If he didn't need the cash, he wouldn't be here in the first place; best not to let a corp lapdog get too close, after all. His attention turned to the borg's arms and Jarred's face turned from a smug grin to a down-trodden grimace.

    Damn it, why's it always 'gotta be Japan? He thought, waiting for a reply.
  6. Jack looked at the man that stepped out... he had his headphones on and was smoking outside leaned against a wall. He looked at his face carefully and observed his reactions with curiosity "I don't know what he told you..." he exhaled the smoke from his cigarette "...but I think I am one of those. Why do you ask." he took another inhale of the cigarette and stared in-front of him exhaling his cigarette he formed circles with his mouth. He looked at the man again "Japan? What is in Japan?" he looked at him again with curiosity
  7. (That was his own thoughts)

    "So. Borg." He put a sharp emphasis on the word. "Ever been on a run?" The statement was a challenge, that was no doubt.

    Before waiting for a reply, he shoved past the other man and began to walk to his car parked in the empty lot of the warehouse. It was a long drive back home, and he didn't want to be in the Underground at night. That was another rule of his: out in the light, home by dark. It didn't matter if his own brother was in danger, he stayed clear of the city entirely once the sun set.

    "Suppose I'll keep in touch." He called, slamming the door shut and starting the car.
  8. Nils walked over to Jack and watched as Jarred drove away. "hmmmm...I wonder who made his gun..." Nils shook his head as if snapping out of a trance and turned to Jack and extended his hand. "nice to meet you robocop, my name is Nils" He was smiling friendly but if you looked close you could see that there was a touch of insanity in his eyes. Nils suddenly put his hand to his mouth. "umm..walk with me.." He dragged jack down the street then suddenly stopped and mumbled to himself "..out of..blast radius..debris field..He looked over at jack. "umm..might wanna get behind cover.." no sooner had he spoken those words there was an explosion from one of the windows of the warehouse. "I told them dont touch a man's pants grenade..but nooooo..they had to confiscated it without disarming it.." He rubbed a hand through his blue hair. "fools..."
  9. The next day came and went without event. Seemed the applications were pending or rejected. Not that anyone particularly minded waiting. Gave you time to check in the bills, smuggle that last portion of whatever you were into, and tie up other loose ends. Then the days became a week. And then two. Finally, at the end of week three, the call came. They had been accepted. The address was an unmarked corporate facility on the other side of town, tickets paid in advance and at the same time. All that was left was a twelve hour train ride...
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