Urban Blade: Long Road

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Asmodeus, Oct 8, 2012.

  1. [​IMG]

    The Boeing 727 was one of ten aircraft operated by the Justice Prisoner and Alien Transportation System, otherwise known as Con Air. Capable of transporting 200 prisoners under a crew of just 12 US Marshalls, it was the cheapest and most efficient means of federal prison transfer. This particular flight was bound from Alexandria to Connecticut, a coastal route that would take it directly over Rapture City.

    That was their first mistake.

    The second was serving lunch.

    The passengers were restrained with handcuffs as well as ankle and waist chains, triple locked. Some even wore reinforced mittens and face masks to isolate hands and teeth. FAA regulations ensured the inmates were not physically restrained to their actual seats by anything but a standard seatbelt. But the crew of Marshalls patrolling the aisles ensured that no one took advantage of this luxury.

    Most passengers today were low riskers. Members of rival prison gangs would be transported on later flights, or individually if they posed a threat. It was safe to say there was a relaxed air. No one had caused any problems, the food had been good, the in-flight movie acceptable, and the weather outside was a soothing kind of rain.

    Most of the inmates had drifted to sleep when the tannoy came on.

    "Welcome to Rapture City, brothers and sisters."

    "The fuck is that?" asked one of the Marshalls, looking up at the speaker. He turned to his colleague, who frowned likewise. "Gerry, who's on the tannoy?"

    "You are now halfway through your transfer, from one penal facility to another. For such is life. We are shifted between our prison cells, in body and spirit."

    The voice had the strain of old age in it, wavering and slow. One of the Marshalls keyed an intercom. "Cockpit, this is Siler. What the fuck are you guys playing at?"

    "It ain't us, Sir," came the co-pilot's reply.

    "Most of you won't recognise my voice. An old man's hard to notice, even in jail. You mighta seen me at times, pushing library books or serving in the kitchens. Some of you might even have called me Merl... Old Merl, that coot who spent two-thirds of his life behind bars." There was a soft chuckle. "Well, that's me alright. But lemme tell you, brothers and sisters - I never forgot what life was like on the outside. In fact, I've made it my personal hobby to keep myself informed on events in the real world. See, before they put me away, all those years back, I had a lot of friends. And those friends have kept me in the loop on all kinds of things."

    "Shut it off. Get that shit shut off!" The Marshalls were rushing up and down the aisles now, trying to work out how the tannoy had been hacked. Others had drawn weapons and were watching the prisoners. Tension was mounting, despite the gentleness in Merl's voice.

    "And what I've heard, well... hell, it just ain't good enough. The world's going to shit, and it's time we made some changes. I need your help, brothers and sisters. I need you to find something for me. Something that'll change... all this."

    "Everyone be calm!" one of the Marshalls motioned with his shotgun, his gaze sweeping the unsettled inmates. Behind him, two Marshalls were opening a wall panel and looking at circuit boards.

    "Now listen up, cos this is the important part. It's a cure I'm looking for. Lab Cure IX. And it's down there somewhere in Rapture City. You get hold of it and you dial 555-692-1423. That's 555-692-1423. My friends will take care of the rest."

    "How the fuck did he do this?" shouted a Marshall, who began reaching up and trying to rip out the cabin speaker.

    "Oh, and one last thing. I may be old, but I ain't stupid. I know most o' you boys would rather run for cover than help make a real change in the world. So here's a little incentive for ya. Remember that tasty lunch you had a few hours back? Well, the secret ingredient was something I've been working on for some thirty years... something I traded in a lot of favours for to get on this plane... I won't bore you with the deatils. It's a slow acting nerve poison."

    Some of the Marshalls froze. Some of the inmates began to mutter. Some even turned and reached for their seatbelts before the guards pushed them back. Panic was starting.

    "Takes 48 hours to work, if the rats I tested it on are anything to go by. I watered it down some, of course, to give you boys a fighting chance. The concentrated version... well... we all know how those Marshalls like to take separate meals, don't we?"

    Almost on cue, one of the Marshalls stumbled in the aisle. He doubled over, clutching his head, and from a gasp lifted into a full, deafening scream. His eyes were wide, his mouth stretched in pain. All the tiny blood vessels on his face had opened up, flushing his skin red. Then there was blood, from his eyes, from his ears, from his nostrils. Some of the other Marshalls rushed to him, but not before there was a wet sound of haemorrhaging in his throat. And only seconds passed before the other guards doubled over in the same manner.

    "This is DOJ2491," the pilot's voice cut in over the intercom, interferring with Merl's transmission. "Co-pilot is down, I repeat... AAAGH!" The man screamed and retched as he tried to speak. "I'm initiating emergency, AAAAGH... God... uuuugh.... going down!"

    The plane dropped abruptly, lurching stomachs and making oxygen masks deploy overhead. As the Marshalls curled over in pain some of the inmates got out of their chairs, stumbling with wrists and ankles bound. The lights flickered. Shout and screams filled the cabin. There was a gunshot as someone disarmed a Marshall.

    Merl's voice cut back in. "Get Lab Cure IX to my friends, and they'll administer the anti-toxin. This is your run for freedom, brothers and sisters. And who knows? We may just change the world tonight."

    And with that the plane tipped, plumetting towards the city below. Any not in their seats were slammed against the cabin walls, and blood of the Marshalls ran in the aisles, their heads torn open from inside. Another shot blew out a window and the wind and rain came howling in. Lights of high-rises flashed by. There was a third gunshot. Then a shudder as something large and metal snapped. The cabin rolled. A freeway, far below, showed cars piled up in a traffic jam. The plane was falling parallel to the stretch. An overhead bin burst open and Marshall kit went crashing through the cabin, smashing into inmates and causing further damage. Sirens could be heard in the distance, between the pops of breaking equipment.

    The plane struck the freeway with a bone shattering quake, and sparks flew as hull and concrete met. The wings snapped and the fusilage skidded, spinning around and colliding with cars and trucks. There was a military convoy amongst the traffic jam. The soldiers were fleeing their humvees with the other drivers. Screams and metal squeals drowned the world and for a few minutes it was like the roar of Hell incarnate.

    Then the plane shuddered to a halt, and smoke and sobs filled the cabin.

    The prisoners had arrived in Rapture City.

  2. Re: Urban Blade: Level 1

    William sat in his seat calmly as the plane plummeted to the cold ground below. He was told by the voice on the intercom that below them stood rapture city. William had to laugh to himself, what a name for a city that was about to have a gaggle of prisoners become inhabitants. The plane hit the ground and all went black.

    Who knows how long it was before William reawakened, but it could not have been long after the crash. Prisoners were still getting out of their seats, well at least the ones who were still alive. William bent down in his seat to his hands, and pulled off the gloves that were restraining his hands from use. It took a few minutes to do, but he got the job done; now all that was needed was to get theses chains off.

    William walked along until he found a marshal. He grabbed the set of keys and began the task from ankles to wrists of unlocking his chains. The chains rattled to the ground and William jumped from the plane being careful to avoid fire and debris. The rain felt good on William's long unkempt hair and face. He could only enjoy it for a few moments; he had a bomb inside his head and 48 hours before it blew. He had to start looking for that cure.

    As William did a shallow search of the area, he noticed that not only had the crashed, but they had crashed upon a military convoy. Interesting, Thought William, what is a military convoy doing going through here. He shrugged and began searching through some rubble and military vehicles. He was getting lucky today; not only did he get free of prison but he was finding the weapons he needed: a crossbow and bolts, a whip, and tonfa. He continued to pick through the debris and found some military issued night vision goggles and a range pack that would be useful for carry excess ammo and items. William began to think that it was not a good idea to be running around in the city with prison clothes on, he would have to find more suitable clothes. He turned around and noticed some cars that must have belonged to civilians. If he was lucky still he may find clothes and other items.

    And lucky William was; in the civilian vehicles there happened to be a man the resembled William in build, height, and weight. William donned the business clothes and the blazer that came with it. The dead man also wore an over coat. William decided this would be good for hiding his weapons. He did one last look over making sure that he didn't miss anything and he spotted a briefcase. He went over and opened it. In the case he found a forgery kit, everything that he would need to make a new ID's and other documents. He through the forgery kit into the range pack and began to head towards the inner city to look for the cure.
  3. Re: Urban Blade: Level 1

    Trent was twisted, his chest crushed, his airways starved. For a moment he thought they had crashed into water. But the sounds were clear enough - sounds of fire and screams and sirens. He thrashed and kicked till cooler air came in.

    He was jammed between two seats, the body of a Marshall lain across him. As the two men shifted - one dead, one alive - the face of the Marshall glowed in the emergency aisle lights. Trent shuddered when he saw the eyes, reamed in blood. There was coagulate gore from his mouth and nose. The death had been agonising - Trent knew that much. And he knew that to suffer such a thing himself would be the greatest of horrors.

    He would find the antidote and fight with every inch of his being if he had to.

    With wrists and ankles chained the ex-cop struggled to get a hold of the Marshall's body. His primary handgun had been taken along with his keyset by one of the inmates. But every good Marshall had a backup. Reaching to the ankle holster, Trent drew the Colt Double Eagle. Smoke stung his eyes, sweat dripped from his brow. Fumbling and gasping, he readied the pistol, then directed it downwards. The shot was impossibly loud in the cabin. It shook his eardrums. But his ankles came free.

    Pain wracked his body as he pulled himself up. The aisles were choked with people, rushing, struggling and hammering on doors and windows. Through the smoke he saw a section of the hull ripped away, near the wing, so he clambered towards it, over the seats, tumbling between each row. Fire loomed on his left. He pushed past it and plunged through the gap. In seconds he was rolling along the wing, which had been half torn away in the crash. One of the engines was still attached, the casing stripped away, the blades spinning furiously just feet from the ground. Trent slid down the wing then pitched over, slamming onto the concrete.

    And there he lay for a moment, too hurt to move, till the thunderous sound of the nearby engine roused him. He came up onto his knees, squinting up at the exposed blades. Luckily he was side on, else he might have been sucked into the machinery altogether. He swallowed and took breaths, psyching himself for what he needed to do. Like a man at prayer, he stayed on his knees and lifted his cuffed hands, slowly, inch by inch, towards the whirling blades.

    "GRAAAAAAAGH!" He yelled as the chain between his cuffs came into contact with the blades. There was a spark of metal. He was thrown onto his back. But he came down with his hands either side of his body.

    The chain had been cut clean in two.

    From one hell he plunged into another. Cars had been tossed like ragdolls during the crash, many of them thrown across the grass verges whilst others burned with the aircraft. With his hands and legs freed Trent kept low as he sprinted. There were not only inmates running around out here, but civilians - drivers stumbling from their cars or rushing to help at the crash site. He even saw a few emergency personnel, first on the scene, but did not draw their attention. He had 48 hours before his skull cracked, and could not waste time on telling his side of the story to the authorities.

    They would only throw him back in jail... for a crime he didn't commit... and Trent had done his time.

    A piece of debris had sliced a car in two in the far lane. Trent came down by it to catch his breath, and saw two men inside, still in their seats, their bodies crushed by the roof. They wore gang colours. Not the greatest of tragedies, he mused darkly. Reaching through the shattered window, he took a knife from the driver's jacket pocket, then a flashlight from the glove compartment. The second man was wearing a hip holster. Loading up, Trent then cracked the trunk and snatched a backpack from it. It was heavy and had the telltale clatter of guns and ammo inside. Whoever these gang members were, they were probably on their way to make someone's day a whole lot worse.

    Was it ironic - getting crushed by a plane full of criminals? Trent was never sure when it came to irony.

    He jogged onwards, between chunks of burning debris and wounded commuters. Up ahead was a military convoy. He saw William, loading up from the spilled crates in a humvee's rear section. The man had the right idea. Stooping to steal a coat from a downed trucker, Trent gave the assassin time to move on, then swooped on the convoy himself. William hadn't left much. Trent salvaged a compass, walkie-talkie, pair of binoculars and a lazer sight for pistol calibur. He screwed this on as he scrambled over the humvee and followed where William had gone.

    He had made it only ten feet when hot metal whizzed past his ear and tore up the cars and concrete around him. Muzzle flares and rock dust startled him and he stumbled to one side, rolling behind a car. He huddled there, heart racing as he heard the crack of rifles and the shatter of windscreens. William was behind a car adjacent to him, but it was not the assassin who was firing.

    Up ahead, about fifty feet from where they took cover, a line of cars had crashed by the sliproad to the feeder. It was the only way off the freeway for another two miles. Behind the wrecks, some of the soldiers from the convoy had rallied and realised what was happening. It was a single fireteam - four men, young faces, M16A2s and light khaki. They looked like National Guard. Responding to an incident... or returning from exercise. Either way, these four had got organised, and three of the inmates from the plane lay dead on the road between them and Trent.

    They weren't about to stand down. And Trent and William didn't have time to reason with them.

    "YOU KNOW HOW TO USE THAT THING?!" he shouted to William, nodding at the crossbow he carried.

  4. Re: Urban Blade: Level 1

    Black... everything black... an acrid smell in the air... Blood, Smoke, Burning flesh.... A warzone? Had they sent him back? No.. this is something else, Vane lifted his hands to brush something hot and sticky from his forehead, the rattle of chains slowly bringing him back to his current situation..."FUCK" To be woken from a pleasant nap by old man Merl's voice booming over the intercom, then I find out im poisoned, then a plane crash... AND ITS RAINING??? Well... at least things cant get worse... Right?

    With a quick glance around the young soldier.. er.. ex soldier, took in the situation.... the planes engine was still running, and there was a fire somewhere nearby and he was handcuffed at the wrists.... oh shit. As he tore off his seat belt and bolted into the isle, Vance could only thank the gods of luck that they had not deemed him enough of a threat for ankle restraints as well, and hell even with the circumstances the idea of bustin out wasnt half bad either, so he sent up some thanks for that too... Though if they let him die right as they gave him a chance for freedom hed have a few crass words to deal upon his arrival....

    With a nimble little leap he managed to hop up on top of one of the nearby seats and scrambled his way out of the plane, hopping straight through a tear in the side. He landed with a tumble that, thanks to his cuffed hands, left him with at least a half dozen bruises... but at least he was out of the plane.. Now free of that particular death trap Vance had a chance to take another look around and was forced to whistle in admiration... that crash had done a hell of a number on the surroundings. Cars crushed, scattered bodies, fires blazing in a dozen spots... and is that a MILITARY convoy?!!

    He chuckled darkly at the few remaining soldiers who were so busy scrambling away they didnt notice the prisoners slowly trickling out of the downed plane.... well everyone would notice soon enough, and quite frankly, Vance didnt want to be around to see it. But first he needed the cuffs off... for that he would need.... He grunted as he spotted something that might prove useful... a battered ford truck, a large deer resting in the bed. He sidled up to the vehicle as quietly as he could, quickly glancing inside..... The driver and passenger both were dead. Lucky break... maybe Murphy wasnt in the mood to fuck with him today?

    Vance quickly tugged the drivers side door open and pulled the fat redneck out by his collar, unceremoniously depositing the bastard upon the ground,"I assume you dont mind bub?" He chuckled a little at his own dark humor before digging through the vehicle for anything useful... If the guy had been hunting he had to have.... Ah there it was, a black compound bow, already strung, a quiver full of arrows beside and a large backpack on the other seat.. As he rummaged he managed to kick the woman in the passengers seat right out the open door, but he paid it little attention.. just another corpse.

    His hands roamed over the contents of the pack with the precision of long experience, and in truth he couldnt help but smile. Inside he found more arrows, duct tape *always handy you know,*Rope, a first aid kit, a flashlight, a freeking tomahawk? Dude musta used it for chopping wood... But still he found nothing that could help him slip out of his restraints... Even when he looked under the seats he didnt find any tools, wire cutters and the like, that he might use to break the cuffs. With a curse he plopped down into the passengers seat, the backpack sitting beside him and the bow in hand.... For five minutes he sat there brooding until a slash of inspiration hit....

    With a contemptuous boot he flipped the body beside the door so that he could get a good look at the woman lying there..... sure enough she sported one of those ridiculous hairdos, each requiring a hundred bobby pins to hold in place... Oh yeah lucky lucky lucky. He grinned as he tore a few out and started to work on the cuffs, a few tricks from his younger days easily coming into play, until, with a satisfying click, the cuffs fell away. Not bad, not bad. It had been so long since hed had to do that he wasnt even sure he remembered how.. but apparently skills like that are never forgotten...

    Now armed, to a point, and finally free of the cuffs, Vance made his way to the military convoy, as hed known would happen there were already a few prisoners there, looting what they could before things began to heat up.... With a whoop he ran headlong for a nearby supply carrier," Wont let you bastards get all the good stuff." His mumbles turned to little gasps of joy as he began to pull out some truly fun equipment, det cord, a number of blasting caps, a lightly armored shirt, a vest covered in pockets for every possible need, and knives... oh so many knives. His smile spread to an all out smirk as he began to position his new acquisitions across his body a number of throwing knives going into specialized niches on the jacket, some equipment going into the backpack across his shoulder some into his new vest, a pair of combat knives he found going into separate sheaths on either side of his body, and to top it off a military jacket," To keep me warm and tosty and night ya fuckers."

    All in all he was having a damn good time.... at least until the bullets began to fly... With the most vile curse he could think of directed straight at Murphy, he dived to the bed of the truck, though as far as he could tell the boxes seemed to obscure him from view. He took a moment to steal a glance through the supply vehicles canopy at the source of the shooting... A fireteam of young soldiers had managed to get their shit together sooner than expected... Vance silently flipped the bird towards the sky, where one would assume those annoying gods would deign to reside, and dropped back down... but not before he caught a glimpse of their targets... two other inmates from the plane, both pinned down behind vehicles themselves.... soooo not good.
  5. Re: Urban Blade: Level 1

    Roxy was busy staring at the man next to her who wore a very unpleasant looking mask on his face. Luckily for her she never had to wear such a thing but she wondered what this fucker had to do to get some atrocious head gear. She raised both hands and waved them in front of his face, but he was out cold, probably sleeping.

    "'Ey man, you up?" She said. "I just wanted to ask you sumthing, how's that mask of yours doing? It comfy?"

    Probably best that he stayed sleeping, Roxy thought. She'd gotten punched before because she talked too much.

    "It's so goddamn boring," she muttered to herself, and made her chains rattle because it was a fun thing to do.

    She sat up straight when she heard an old man speak, gripping tightly at her arm rests. Listening attentively to his words, the woman couldn't help the sneer that appeared on her lips. He was giving them a second chance at life, but at a price. That was alright, Roxy didn't like being in this hell hole of a prison anyways. She whistled as one of the marshals nearby started retching, gagging, then bleed. As tears of blood streamed down his face, Roxy braced herself for the plane was plummeting. Glass shards flew by her, tearing up her face. She lifted her arms to deflect the blows. Her 'silent' companion started screaming, the sound muffled by his mask. And then everyone was screaming, even Roxy. The lights of the city flew past her, illuminating the interior of the plane like a strobe light: yellow, black, yellow, and black again.

    "It's like being on a fucking roller coast man! Except you might die!"

    Her heart was in her throat as the plane contacted with the freeway. Heat billowed from the windows engulfing the plane. She knew then that she had to get out before she was burned into a crisp. On the verge of panicking she spotted a key, dropped by one of the marshal's. Her traveling companion eyed her hungrily as she picked her locks. Off were the cuffs on her wrists, ankles and waist, along with her seat belt . She tossed the key to the man, face cut up.

    "Probably a good thing you got that mask huh? Good luck amigo," and she jumped out of her seat, wading through the carnage.

    The air acquired a scent, a mixture of gasoline, asphalt, and flesh. It made Roxy's stomach queasy as she searched the wreckage. A woman in a yellow Volkswagon Bettle with her neck snapped caught Roxy's eye. The door to the car was ripped opened somehow, which Roxy promptly took advantage of. From the woman's purse and glove compartment she took pepper spray, a taser, some chemical lights, a road map and a first aid kit. Still Roxy didn't have a proper weapon... She raided another car and found a pharmacist kit, a backpack, and to her surprise, a leather jacket. She donned it on and grinned.

    "Fuck yeah."

    Tires screeching made the woman look up and dive behind a car. She heard a collision and then saw a military convoy overturn as it was hit by a big rig. The truck skidded across the road, stopping several feet in front of Roxy. Its contents spilled out like dropping a bag of candy. A submachine gun slid her way, along with a box of ammo. Hustling since the soldiers in the convoy were climbing out, she retrieved these items, and stuffed them into her bag. She was about to run like hell when gunfire broke out. Diving further away, towards a blue car in front of William, Roxy started loading up her weapon, fumbling with the ammunition.

    "Fucking god," she cried as the man with the mask took a shot in the head.
  6. Re: Urban Blade: Level 1

    The plane ride had been rather boring. Taiken had been sitting idly in his seat feeling exceptionally bored with the situtation, up until things changed for the better. Suddenly, with the announcements made by Old Merl, the situation had become much more bearable. Immediately his mind began racing over the possibilities as everything was further explained. Once the marshals started dropping like flies, a dark smile came over his face. This wasn't a joke. Shit just got real.

    The plane began falling, promting him to look out the window to his right. He saw the lights from the place known as Rapture City. He had heard plenty about the place, and assumed that it couldn't possibly be much different than New York City where he grew up. This made him feel a bit more confident. However, that feeling was short lived as the plane came to a deafening crash. He made sure not to unfasten his seat belt before the crash, for what it was worth.

    That didn't stop his body from being rattled about in his seat until he felt like he had just gone a few rounds with a pro boxer. After the plane had stopped, he looked around the cabin. The other inmates, those still alive anyways, were already starting to stumble and struggle their way around the plane to escape. That was probably the best idea at the moment. He unfastened his seat belt and quickly got up, making his way over to the dead Marshals. He began searching one of them, trying to find a set of keys for his binding. The first one he search seemed to have already been stripped of his keys, so he moved on to the next one. This time he was in luck. Grabbing the keys from one of the Marshal's pockets, he hastily unlatched the cuffs from his wrists, then his ankles.

    Dropping the keys there, he looked for the nearest exit. The smoke stung his eyes and forced him to cough a bit, but he managed to spot an emergency exit door nearby. As he got over to it, it pulled up on the latch, and the door came loose from the rest of the plane, dropping to the ground several feet below. He jumped, rolling onto the concrete highway below. His first deep breathe was fresh and cool, a welcome change from the firey hell he had just escaped. No time to sit and enjoy it. The sounds of sirens in the distance reassured him of that. He got to his feet quickly and started making his way from the crash. A long line of what appeared to be military vehicles stood out among the rest of the traffic. Perfect.

    He ran over to the nearest humvee and opened one of the rear doors. On the back seat he found a backpack and quickly opened it up to see what was in it. A Ghillie suit, a tactical map of the city, and a flashlight. Not a bad find. He took the backpack in hand and walked over to the back of the vehicle and opened the back. The 1st thing to catch his eye was a large black gun case laying in the back. Setting the backpack down next to it, he opened the case up to find a Berret Light Fifty sniper rifle, equipped with an electro-optical scope. His face lit up with a big grin at the sight of it. Laying near the gun, he noticed a couple of filled magazines for the gun, as well and extra case of ammo, and a pair of rangefinder binoculars. Quickly, he stuffed the rangefinders and extra ammo case into the backpack. He then took one of the spare magazines and stuffed it into his pants pocket. That just left the part he loved most. Taking hold of the rifle, and held it up with his right hand, propping the butt of the gun against his leg. It was heavy, but he could manage. Grabbing the other magazine in his left hand, he popped it into the gun, and pulled the bolt back to load one into the chamber.

    As he looked around to see what else there might be to find, he noticed a few of the other prisoners had the same idea. This was becoming more and more interesting by the minute. A brand new looking sedan was parked near the humvee he had just looted. Or at least it would have looked new it the front end hadn't been crushed by debris from the crash. He walked over and looked inside, noticing that it was empty. Whoever had been driving it must have gotten away in time. Smart. However, they seemed to have left their cell phone sitting in the passenger seat. Taiken reached through the passenger side window and picked it up, taking the object under it as well, which appeared to be a caller ID defeater. In the back seat was a small kit of some kind. He grabbed it as well, bu before he could check to see what it was, he heard gunshots, prompting him to just stuff it all into the backpack.

    Frantically looking around for the source of the gunfire, he noticed that there were several soldiers were already on the scene. Not surprising considering the convoy on the highway. Taiken dashed across another lane of traffic and got into the bed of a pickup truck that was most intact, located several cars behind the 4 other inmates that were taking cover. He looked over the roof of the truck at the soldiers, and started mentally preparing himself for what he was about to have to do.
  7. Re: Urban Blade: Level 1

    William crouched behind a car staying away from the fire, loaded his crossbow. He had heard the screaming from the other inmate, "Do I know how to use this?" He yelled back sarcasticlly, "Damn right I do this is my prefered weapon." He stood up over the hood and shot at the attacker straight across from him.

    The bolt flies throught the air. Straight and true it is as the soldier firing is just realizing that his life is about to end. The bolt strikes right between the eyes of the soldier. The soldier fires a few more rounds into the air as he falls back to the ground, lifeless.

    William ducks back down to grab some cover and reload his weapon. He turns his face to Trent smiling an evil smile of triumph. "I told you I could use it." He winks and reloads.
  8. Re: Urban Blade: Level 1

    Vance watched from the back of the convoy truck as one of the inmates popped up from behind cover, his hand shooting up to bring some weapon to bear.... A crossbow?! Ha guess im not the only hunting enthusiast here~ His grin became positively wicked as the quarrel sped across the streets, taking one of the soldiers right between the eyes the moment he let his head slip from cover. Luck sure aint with that one.....

    He smiled to himself as the crossbowmen crouched down once more, apparently reloading. The soldiers still seemed to be reeling from the fact that one of their number had been taken down in such an archaic manner... maybe time to give them something more to worry about? His smile was more than a little predatory as he unslung the bow from about his shoulder, an arrow easily slipping form the quiver upon his hip.... With just a bit of luck hed have enough time to get off a shot before the soldiers could spot him....

    In one smooth motion he stood up, revealing himself for just a moment, and pulled the arrow all the way back, the plume brushing his cheek, before releasing it with a light twang.... He didnt take the time to see its flight, instinctively ducking back for cover behind his little pile of crates..... the outcome of his shot was pretty obvious though, as the crashing of a window and the blaring of a car horn would attest... "Damn. Seems I missed..."
  9. Re: Urban Blade: Level 1

    That was a clean kill shot right there. And the man didn't look like some redneck hunter. Trent eyed William between the cars as bullets flew. Just what kind of criminal was he stuck in this firefight with? And if his skills had dulled during incarceration, how much better had he been before, or how deeply ingrained were those skills?

    Food for thought. But Trent wasn't in the eating mood right now.

    He finished locking the laser sight to his pistol, then swung around the other side of his car, dropping to one knee to fire. The laser faded to nothing after a few feet, pointless in the evening light. But he locked eyes with the burly soldier inching between the cars of the Guard barricade. He was the only one without cover. Trent fired and the recoil sprained his hand. The bullet snapped up and away, not even hitting one of the cars.


    He was out of practice. Four years on the inside had dulled his edge.
  10. Re: Urban Blade: Level 1

    William looked around cautiously at the others attacks to the soldiers. They missed. My god what am I dealing with? He couldn't believe it but what was he to do?

    He got an idea pretty quickly in his head. He laughed a little to the others "hehe Amateurs." He stood up and saw one soldier standing on a car hood. Idiot, William thought. HE pulled the trigger and the bolt flew. William could have sworn it would miss, his aim was a bit off and he was shooting fast but the wind and rain seemed to corrected the bolt just enough and it shoot through to the Soldiers heart. The soldier stood for a moment assessing the damage and fell over to bleed on the ground.

    William smiled. He ran dodging bullets here and there until he ran behind a car the was ten feat away from the northern most soldier. William foregone his reloading this time and instead took out is mid-ranged weapon, the whip.
  11. Re: Urban Blade: Level 1

    The soldier on the hood slid to the ground, his rifle going off in his hand and spraying fire at the cars around William, shattering windshields and mirrors. And as the assassin made it to cover behind the next car the larger soldier on the north side of the barricade opened up. His bullets tore the ground around William and kept him pinned there.

    Meanwhile, the second soldier on the south side braced his rifle and tracked Trent's movements as he dived for cover. The soldier squeezed the trigger, and the 5.56mm round punched clean through the bumper of the car and caught the ex-cop in the chest. Trent fell back on the pavement, a few feet from Vance, and blood spattered from his mouth as he gasped.

    It was all over too soon... he never had a chance....

    [Trent to -8 HP. DYING]
  12. Taiken watched as the fight progressed, trying to decide who to shoot first. Two of the others had missed their shots, one was injured, possibly fatally. However, one of them actually managed to take down two of the soldiers. Not bad. Time to see if he could help out as well.

    Looking down the sights of the scope, he took aim at the soldier behind the car in the oncoming side of the street. He took a breath and held it for a moment, then squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out with a deafening bang, and the gun recoiled enough to knock Taiken onto his ass in the bed of the truck. The bullet would fly over it's target missing completely. "Son of a bitch!" Perhaps he wasn't quite as ready for that as he thought.

    Taiken got up and repositioned himself, looking over the roof of the truck again. He cursed to himself again. Next time, he would be ready.
  13. Roxy jumped when she heard a sniper round being fired, the sound itself almost made her heart stop. Peering warily around her, the woman assessed their situation. One man was down, but there were still three more that needed to be disposed off before they could move from their position. Another shot rang out, louder than the others. She heard a cry of pain and whirled around, seeing Trent collapse upon the street.


    She wanted the man to die, but not like this.

    Crouching, she shot across the space between her blue car and the van, sliding her back against the side of the vehicle to make herself a smaller target amidst the gunfire. She had that feeling again, of her heart in her throat. Roxy felt like if she were to vomit right now that organ would come up, along with her previous meal. She tumbled behind the white van, ducking her head immediately. The splatter of blood on the asphalt caused a sharp intake of breath. The bullet hole left on the bumper was opened like a rose. Roxy whistled low and feebly, and went to work.

    She teared off several strips from her shirt, revealing a stomach that was heavily tattooed; a large green serpent circled around her belly button. Turning the man over she looked for an exit wound and found it quickly. A spot of blood was forming on his t-shirt and although she was relieved, Roxy knew she would have to clean the metal debris later. She tied the strips together to make them longer and bandaged him as quickly as she could without aggravating his wound. Roxy also placed wads of fabric inside; the woman feared using her hands to apply pressure would worsen the situation. For now he was stabilized. She grabbed her gun, shaking her head at their predicament.

    "If you make it through this Trent, you are one lucky bastard."
  14. Well damn, this wont do at all.... One of the other guys is down, but that guy with the crossbow already took down 2 of the enemy, and from the sound of that shot earlier we might have gained ourself a sniper.. though maybe not a good one. Vance chuckled under his breath.. not that his aim seemed any better.. Should I move closer? Fuck.. Ill have to to get off a good shot...

    Oh screw it.
    With a grunt of effort he hopped from the back of the truck and dashed for a vehicle a little closer, moving up about 10 feet or so then stopping to take aim once more. He let loose the second the nearest soldier raised up from his cover to fire and the quarrel flew straight and true this time, its path set, Vance grinned in satisfaction at the loud thump and cry.. but still it looked like the guy was still alive. The bolt had hit him, but not fatally. It stuck from the mans shoulder the plumes barely visible over the side of the vehicle. Well damn.

    He grinned and dropped down behind the vehicle once more, not the best shot but at least I hit... gotta get my mojo back I guess. (6 damage to tough mook, 2 hp left)
  15. William saw the attacker across from him fall to the ground as he was shot from the side., Well this makes things a little easier for me now, He thought to himself.

    William ran around the vehicle the soldier was hiding and saw him trying to get back up and grab his weapon. William stood there, though it was a horrific idea at the time, menacingly just staring at the wounded shooter. The soldier looked at him with fear in his eyes and heart, he knew that he was about to lose his soul that very moment. William smiled evilly, "I hope for your immortal soul, you have made peace with your deity and loved ones." And with that William raised his whip...

    *crack, crack* The whip echoed through the cool night air. With the two quick flicks of the wrist, William sent the end of the whip flying and with excellent aim and timing, he had cut open the soldier's neck twice over. The soldier gurgled a bit with what might have been dying words, but no one could know.

    The fight was not over, however. William ducked to avoid a shot his way. He could only hope that one of the others would kill the last shooter and this would be over.
  16. One man, half-glimpsed and strangely-armed, had decimated the fireteam. The remaining soldier knew better than to hold the blockade alone. Slinging his rifle, the soldier slid across the hood of a car and broke into a sprint, fleeing down the sliproad. His morale was broken.

    The threat had passed. [120XP each]

    And as Roxy finished padding Trent's wounds and checked her gun, a hand gripped weakly at her arm. Trent's eyes were half-open, flickering, his breath ragged. "I..." It was barely a whisper. He did not recognise Roxy... only felt the presence of someone... someone who had shown him kindness. "I know... where the cure is..."

    And with that he passed out again.
  17. Taiken was lining up his sights with the last remaining soldier, and was about ready to fire when he noticed that his target started to flee the scene. He thought for a few seconds about taking the shot anyways, but decided to save the ammo as the threat was now gone. His time could be better used elsewhere. They were a man down, and he wasn't sure yet if the guy was still alive or not.

    He picked up the rifle and slung it over his back before jumping off the side of the truck and onto the street. Not taking any chances, Taiken ducked and weaved from car to car until he made his way over to Trent and Roxy, arriving shortly after he had passed out. Looking him over, he spoke calmly to Roxy.

    "Is he dead?"
  18. Christ on a stick, the mother fucker had to pass out. Of course he couldn't do it when they were on a free way, oh nooo, had to go out cold while they were still on the friggan high way with burning cars and burning bodies and all kinds of other burning shit.

    Roxy had turned to look at Trent, barely catching his words through her wall of frustration. It was great that the guy knew where the cure was, wasn't great that one of them was gonna have to haul his limp ass body through the wreckage. Growling she lifted his head up with an arm, cradling it. At Taiken's calm words Roxy could only think of one nonverbal reply.

    With a hand, she slapped Trent firmly -maybe a bit too fiercely - across the face. She wasn't sure if the motion was gonna wake the man up but it sure was satisfying. After all, the 'detective' had put her behind bars.

    "So, who's carrying the guy? I ain't doing it, I already did my part and healed his ass. And we gotta take him, idioto knows where the cure is."
  19. William came walking over to where Trent and the others were. He had reclaimed most of his used bolts, however some were lost and that was to be expected. With the clean bolt in hand, he reloaded his weapon.

    He whistled as walked to the group and when he got there he looked at the rag tag group that had gotten out of the plane. "So this is what we have to work with. Hmm, I guess it will do in present circumstances." William looked at Trent's body, "Well I am guessing he got stabilized before he died; this is good. So, now I pose the question, where the hell is this 'cure?'"
  20. The air around them was getting warm, disturbingly warm. Flames were slowly consuming vehicle after vehicle, human fat bubbling and spitting. She knew that if under enough heat, the human skull became a pressurized cooker. The brains would cook down into a liquid before the pressure became too much and Boom! Flesh, bone and blood everywhere.

    The doctor shook herself. That image was none too pleasant to think about.

    "I have no fucking clue but the guy says he knows." She lowered Trent's head on the ground gently and stood. Panicked eyes roamed through the wreckage. Despite the flames there had to be a vehicle they could use to get out of here. She grimaced as she found one that looked intact.

    "We're gonna get ourselves a ride fellas. Gotta get outta here before the feds arrive. I'll try this one but you guys keep looking."

    She tried the doors but they were locked, promptly her to cuss vehemently in Spanish. Roxy took off her leather coat, wrapped it around fist and busted the windows. Reaching in, she popped the lock, opened the door and sweeped the glass away with her coat. It wasn't until she was inside, sitting in the driver's seat did she realize there weren't any keys in the ignition.

    "Soy un puto retard! Stupid, fucking stupid!"