S.E.E.S. Demon Hunters

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Crono, Dec 26, 2014.

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    A helicopter swiftly shot though the air, slowly approaching a small town in New Mexico. The helicopter had no markings on its sides to signify the organization it worked for and to the casual onlooker, just seemed to be just another aircraft passing overhead. However the speedy helicopter was no ordinary aircraft and the people in it were no ordinary people. No, this was a Satanic Entity Extermination Services (S.E.E.S. for short) transport helicopter and the people on board were none other then the baddest demon hunters around. They waited for the aircraft to land in the little town, which was currently under attack by, you guessed it, demons.
  2. New Mexico, so close to where here story all began. Jade hazel eyes had lost focus the minute she'd realized where they were going. She was still young, still a newb to the group when it came to fieldwork, she'd been in training for the most part of the past five years. Was she really ready for field work? Well it didn't seem to matter. Jade-hazel eyes snapped into focus suddenly as a sharp electrical sensation jolted up her spine into the back of her skull. Every hair on her body felt like it was standing on end. Like a cat ready to run, her muscles tensed, this sensation mean demons were near and only growing closer. Kodi's eyes seemed to darken a little as her body steeled itself, Kroe her alternate self was stepping forward, taking the reigns so to speak, ready to do the unthinkable to just about anything that got in her pint sized pixie from hells path.

    A quick glance around the helicopter brought the rest of her senses crashing back in. The repeatitive whoosh of the helicopters' blades whirling above, the static coming in through her ear comm-unit while their pilots steered them every closer to the hell awaiting below. Her head dropped tot he right then rolled back on her shoulders to pop once or twice and then settled straight again. She was ready. "Let's purge every last one of them" SHe said more to herself than to her teammates. Eyes sharpening on the twin Acinae's swords strapped to either thigh they were her claws and teeth, she would do to them what they did to her family. That was her vow since being rescued. She looked towards their captain, leader, she'd literally follow into hell. Well that wasn't saying much if she could figure out a way there she would have left a long time ago. Kamikaze mission or not she wanted at them dammit.

    "How long till we land?" she shouted into the comms her raspy voice barely crackling across the radio. Damn electronics.
  3. Wes couldn't be bothered to sit properly on the helicopter's bench; back pressed against the side, arms folded across his chest, legs stretched out with one boot crossed over the other. His head was turned slightly to look out the window at their target city. The report said it had only been under siege for a few hours, though in his experience that was plenty of time for demons to gain a foothold.

    Kroe's voice crackled into his ear at a volume little better than a whisper-- "how long till we land?"

    "Whenever we land," Wes' dry tone joined Kroe's on the comm. Well, showtime was soon enough. The mordant demon slayer sat up at last, stretching high over his head with hands locked together before they went searching inside his coat. The chains that hung from his pants jangled together somewhat musically each time the chopper shifted.

    Wes pulled a sleek gun from his jacket-- red with leopard fur trim and the occasional leather patch keeping it together, obviously the paragon of fashion --and with the heel of his other palm loaded a magazine into it. A second firearm soon joined the first. Weapons primed, Wes resumed looking out the window. Periodic columns of smoke spiraled into the sky from civilization below.

    Demons attack, everyone loses their shit and the city goes up in flames, his eyeroll might have looked strange given that he said nothing out loud. Wes stared down at the chaos. Typical.
    #3 Killjoy, Dec 26, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 26, 2014
  4. Ignoring the buzz that tickled at her ear from the static-voices coming through her intercom, Diana strapped the last of her equipment onto her right bicep. The small knife, now strapped onto her arm snuggly, left her smiling and nodding at her own work. She had other knives strapped or attached to her in some way, on her belt, her thigh, boots ... she had quite the supply and if she happened to run out, the knives came with the ability to collectively return to a checkpoint in a pile.

    Looking from her arm and belt and to the windows. Diana couldn't help but to frown, the skies hadn't been twisted black and gray - which was a good point if she was to be flying on a helicopter god knows how high - but even from here, she could see smoke rising - a sign that the demons were definitely up to no good.

    "Are we there yet?" She asked into the in-com, adding an exaggerated childish tone for her own entertainment, "If we don't get there in the next 10 minutes, I'll need to walk around to stretch myself," she warned them.
  5. "8 minutes before landing. Currently looking for a safe place to land." The voice of the helicopter's pilot sounded from the intercom. "Ready your weapons. Reports say there's imps, cultists, and a lava golem down there." The claim was proven by a loud smash bellow and pieces of concrete flying up from it. To avoid some larger chunks the pilot quickly turned to the right and headed for the top of a large building.
    #5 Crono, Dec 26, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 26, 2014
  6. Ghost tittered uncomfortably at Wes' side, as the once possessed young woman picked through one of the many small coin purse sized satchels she had attached to her belt. The small package contained a small amount of various medicinal herbs meant for serious burn injuries. She poked a finger cautiously through the contents, ensuring she had everything she needed, before tying the bag closed and attaching it back to her belt. Her hand then moved to the leather band wrapped around her bicep and held several small vials of assorted colored liquids and powders. Being dropped into the middle of a fray was never a comfortable feeling for her, and the reminder that there would be Cultists around only made her more nervous. She grew up in Demon Cult, the last thing she wanted to do was fight more. She always held the hope that she could convince some of them that they're choice of "religion" was not a good one by reminding them of the consequences of their actions. But they rarely listened and most of the time she ended up running away from them crying as they tried to either recruit her or kill her for turning on her own kind. "Unnn..." She moaned quietly as the commander listed some of the types of enemies they would encounter, at least he hadn't mentioned any possession-types. Rotating one of the vials attached to her arm in concern, she chewed on the inside of her lip, before her eyes shifted to the side and she warily eyed her companion. Ever since he had rescued her three years ago, she hadn't left his side. Her pupil-less gaze shifted uncomfortably to the weapon in his hand, the same weapon that had once driven a demon from her body. It brought both painful and happy memories to mind. Convinced she had all of her potions, poultices, and herbs she would need for this mission; Ghost let go of the vial grasped lightly in her fingertips and settled for wringing her hands together in front of her. She wasn't a combatant and mostly she just feared getting in someone's way. But as the only medic on the team, she couldn't just hide someplace and wait for the fight to be over, she had to be ready in case anyone needed her assistance. After a moment, in nervous anticipation, her fingers twisted around one of the satchels at her belt again. She had to keep busy.
  7. Wes' head turned away from the window towards the crackling intercom, one eyebrow arched, intrigued in a way he hadn't been all morning. A lava golem? Well, at least today wouldn't be a total bust. One more all-imps mission and he was going to lose his mind.

    And people think you're a hero, he scoffed. At least imps were stupid and relatively easy to kill-- even farmers with shotguns and shovels could drive back a small group. It was selfish, amongst other, less eloquent things, to wish calamities upon people to fuel his own entertainment.
    He sat there quietly doing it anyways.

    The helicopter lurched. Probably starting its decent. In final preparation Wes glanced over at Ghost, who was seated next to him as per usual. He hadn't been able to shake her since the day he'd cleared out that cultist place.
    Speaking of cultists...

    "You good to go?" he watched the strange human check her satchels and vials with quick, deft fingers. Ghost was a mobile medic of sorts; she'd always opted to follow him during battles instead of setting up a station. Sometimes problematic. Wes' one eye not obscured by a tangle of dark hair finally broke away from the other S.E.E.S. agent.

    "I'll be hunting for the big guy," he began tweaking with the outer mechanisms of his right-hand gun. "Don't get in his way. I'll have enough on my plate without worrying about you being smashed to bits."

    While Wes was often very oblivious to the effect his words had on people, he was less so when it came to Ghost and his firearms. They made her uncomfortable. All things considered, that was both obvious and reasonable, but it didn't stop him from flashing the weapons around anyways.
  8. "For some reason, I feel like that nice leopard gun of yours is gonna get alittle crispy tangling with the big guy." Scarlet said, over hearing Wes talking to the medic of the group. Ghost was her name wasnt it? A smirk of amusement on her face as she loaded another, and the final, .50 BG round into her M82A1 magazine. Slipping into the metal case next to the rifle itself, she closed it and latched it. Standing, she cocked her Ruger and slipped it into her holster. "And who knows, if we're lucky that candy cane scarf will catch a few sparks." She finished, laughing and giving Ghost a playful wink, trying to lighten the mood. Picking up the heavy case, which was as tall as her, Scarlet looked out the window, right as a piece of a car was thrown up at the helicopter, which easily swerved past it. Saying out loud, mostly to her self as she spotted a building burning, most likely due to the golem,

    "Oh hell, this will be fun, won't it?"
  9. Ghost meekly nodded in response to Wes' statement before her gaze nervously shifted to Scarlet as the female warrior jokingly harassed the ill-tempered gunsman at her side. Or at least, she hoped Scarlet was only joking. She hoped Wes took it as a joke, as a vivid mental image of a war breaking out inside the compact space of an airborne helicopter filled her mind's eye. It was a disturbing thought that she quickly dismissed with a vigorous shake of her head, sending several locks of her limp hair snapping around her head and tangling around her still-present horns. It would do no good to make herself nervous before they even landed. She was already jittery enough to vibrate right out of her own skin without having to worry about demon hunters turning on each other in a flying metal death trap.

    Biting her lip, the young demon-like woman fell in a limp collapse to the helicopter floor, before settling down and hugging her knees to her chest. It was steadily decreasing in altitude as it approached the landing site, leading the weightless flight of their arrival to an upheaval of jerks and lurching motions as the 'copter entered a state of turbulence. Definitely a sign of demon infestation. Swallowing a moan of discomfort, Ghost rested her forehead upon her raised knees and closed her eyes as she waited for the flying machine to land.
  10. "Landing." The pilot spoke as the helicopter landed on a three story apartment building. Three cultists and seven imps barged out of the door that lead to the building's stairs. Two of the cultists pulled out pistols while the third loaded his tommy gun. The imps all charged at the aircraft swinging their swords with childish laughter. "Good luck. Go! Go! Go!"
  11. "Hmpf," the corner of Wes' mouth twitched up in response to Scarlet. "Sorry, but I think my scarf'll live to see another day."

    That was about the closest the slayer got to seeming friendly outside of battle unless ridiculously drunk. He rose to his feet, serenaded by the jangling of chains and the heavy fall of his fur-trimmed coat as it straightened itself out. It was heavy for various other reasons; lined with leopard and loaded magazines. Had to store 'em somewhere.

    Careful to keep gloved fingers from hovering over his guns' triggers while the helicopter was still jittery, Wes cast a downwards glance at Ghost. He nudged the disheartened medic with his boot.

    "Rise 'n shine, Ghost. Party's gettin' started."

    There was a lurch as the helicopter touched down-- accustomed to it, Wes turned his body towards the door, watching the lock release and let it slide open. They'd hardly stopped moving and already had ten enemies rushing them. Small fry, no less. With a disapproving tch, the S.E.E.S. operative stalked forwards, letting gravity assist him out of the transport chopper. His feet touched the ground and his righthand weapon was raised, sights aligned for the cultist with the submachine gun.
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