Vigilance: Blood and Justice [IC]

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Lord Wraith, Dec 13, 2014.

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  1. [​IMG]
    | GM: Lord Wraith | Genre: Superhuman, Modern Fantasy | Type – Linear, Sandbox |
    ~"The dead cannot cry out for justice. It is a duty of the living to do so for them."~

    J
    ust under a hundred years ago, humanity would never have thought that a man could fly unassisted through the air, shoot laser beams out of his eyes or stop bullets with his skin. Yet in 1938, the Hyperhuman was confirmed to be living among its evolutionary predecessor. After years of public relations by pro-Hyperhuman groups such as H.E.L.P. and the public beginning to accept the existence of those with extraordinary gifts, society’s mindset was set backwards nearly fifty years when a terrorist by the name of Yakob Kowalski. Yakob Kowalski or as he had dubbed himself ‘Hurt’ set out on a mission to prove to the world that despite Hyperhumans living among society, they were a short fuse away from killing all those around them. Motivated by the death of his family when a Hyperhuman in his neighborhood lost control of his powers and nearly destroyed the town, Kowalski gathered a team of Hyperhumans willing to use their abilities for selfish gain to use to for his own means. Giving them a target and unleashing them upon it, Kowalski’s team wreaked havoc across North America and dragged the Canadian based S.H.I.F.T down with them drawing their strike teams into public fights.

    As such the world witnessed the dangerous side of Hyperhumans and once again began to resent those with abilities and reject them from society. The only good that came of this incident was the organization known as H.E.L.P. going on to become an international agency giving S.H.I.F.T clearance to intervene anywhere in the world. This allowed S.H.I.F.T. the jurisdiction to send their teams anywhere in the world in order to protect the public from Hyperhumans who wish to use their abilities to harm others as well as to protect those who are persecuted.

    What the world at large remains unaware of however is that there are others among them besides Hyperhumans who have abilities that are almost incomprehensible. The mysterious and mystical Magni had been living among humans since the dawn of early civilization, even before they fled their home realm of Umbra. Furthermore beyond Hyperhumans and Magni, Earth has been visited by Celestial visitors for eons, most coming and going without anyone being none the wiser.

    Fear of the unknown has always plagued humanity, and continues to do so as unnatural storm clouds circle around the coastal city of Crescent City. For almost the past month, rain has pelted the city introducing flooding along the coast and along the other bodies of water within the city leading to whole neighborhoods being evacuated. With this rain has come damaging winds ripping through the vineyards outside Los Paraíso and landslides burying many of the main routes in and out of the city. Meteorologists are completely baffled by this storm as it seems to only be suspended above Crescent City and not moving anywhere. The storm clouds appear to originate from above Old Stone Mountain where a huge concentration of black clouds can be seen swirling around its tips leaving the resort that resides there completely closed down.

    This weather is causing a lot of tension within the city as the people are beginning to panic. Many of the people of Crescent City have begun to believe that the storm is the work of a Hype intent on eventually holding the city hostage. Furthermore, the city is in the midst of a mayoral election putting a lot of stress on the candidates to provide results to the pandemonium plaguing the city. In the midst of all this, crime has begun to spike as the local gangs have taken advantage of the situation and the evacuated areas. Neighbor has begun to turn on neighbor stretching the already strained emergency services to their breaking point. The city needs help, the source of the storm needs to be found and the only ones able to it are those who the city fears most.



    “This is Darren Bronsky coming to you live from the Spires for Channel 11 News. I’m currently standing outside city hall where a large crowd is advancing on the building where the mayoral debate is currently taking place.” The camera panned towards the angry crowd as ran poured down on the ground. Beginning to yell slander against Crescent City’s leadership, Hyperhumans and chant support to Yakob Kowalski as they came closer. The crowd slowly began to show more aggressive behavior. Soggy signs were raised above their heads as some of the more violent protestors began to kick over the garbage cans and climb on top of cars. The police standing outside city hall moved their hands towards their weapons as the crowd continued to advance.

    “We may need backup down here dispatch.” The officer said as he motioned towards Darren Bronsky and his crew to get inside the building. The reporter nodded as he slipped inside the gothic building followed quickly by the camera.



    Clocking out for the night, Greg O’Connor rolled his eyes as a sign for the mayoral election blew by in the strong gust of wind. Guarding warehouses in the Power District was never something he had desired to and each eight hour day dragged on for what seemed an eternity. Coming around a corner, he heard a noise as he turned his flashlight on. Seeing nothing, he tucked the tool back into his belt as he fumbled for the keys to his car. A large rumble echoed from the other side of the warehouse as Greg barely had enough time to look up before a large explosion lifted him off his feet and threw the heavy man across the parking lot. Flames rocketed into the sky as the night became filled with smoke and the smell of burning. Alarms went off all across the district as staff prepared emergency measures but no sirens sounded from the emergency forces. Stretched far too thin due to the typhoon-like weather that had been plaguing the city, the fire department had been trying to stop flooding in other areas of the city.

    “God help us…” Greg muttered as he struggled to stand up, looking at the flames that continued to spread despite the soaked ground and pouring rain. Staring beyond the warehouses, Greg could scarcely move as he body froze in fear, realizing the fire was on a direct path for the nuclear plant.




    The door slowly swung open as Packo Del Cruz stood in the doorway grinning like a fool while holding his lock picking tools.
    “Look at that, ol’Packo actually did something right.” A loud smack echoed into the abandoned house as the man who spoke stepped around Packo and began to wade through the flooded entrance way.

    “Eh, he still ain’t worth much.” Came a second voice as he gave Packo a shove forward.

    “Off ‘im then Monty” The first man replied with a cruel smile as Packo’s mouth opened only for the second man to put his hand in front of it and press a handgun to his ribcage. The shot echoed throughout the house as Packo dropped to the ground, water splashing as the corpse sunk into it. “This house better have something good, the last couple just had a couple flatscreens. They aren’t worth as much as they used to be.”

    “I blame Costco, how’s an honest criminal s’pposed to make a livin’ around here if the corporations are selling them cheaper than we can?”

    “Oh and Walmart too.” Monty added beginning his own look around the house.

    “Especially Walmart.” Agreed the first man as he walked up to a mantle. “Well lookey here!” He said using the butt of his gun to smash open a glass display case. “You think it’s real?” He asked lifting up a sword before drawing it from its scabbard.

    “We can only hope. The other Kings better be makin’ out better than this. Where’s the gold? The cash stores? Ugh, people are too paranoid nowadays.”


    The site outside of city hall had escalated as the protestors had set their signs on fire along with the trashcans and whatever else they had on hand. Inside the stone building, the few available officers barricaded the door standing by with their weapons. They had called in a SWAT unit though no promises were made as to how quickly one could be scrambled together.
    “Things have rapidly escalated down here at the City Hall. What looked like a protest approaching the mayoral debate has quickly turned into a riot.” The sound of sirens outside alerted the officers that their backup had finally arrived. Unfortunately the site of the SWAT van sent the rioters into a frenzy as a group of masked men emerged from with the crowd and began unloading automated weapons at the SWAT unit while others rushed the city hall. The night had descended into chaos.
     
    #1 Lord Wraith, Dec 13, 2014
    Last edited: Jan 20, 2015
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  2. “Things have rapidly escalated down here at the City Hall. What looked like a protest approaching the mayoral debate has quickly turned into a riot." Abigail Sykes rolled her eyes and sighed. All she ever seemed to hear about any more was rioting and flooding and strange storms. She hated the rain at the best of times- it made her power harder to use and left her more exposed to the cold. But the constant news reports about it made her hate it even more. She knew that she should be glad- the lab she worked in was untouched by the flooding. Her apartment was- well, safe was the wrong term. Nowhere in New Lilith was particularly safe any more. But as it was on the third floor, she figured that she wasn't going to have to worry about water damage.

    She stood up. Thinking about how much she hated the rain wasn't going to do anything for her or anyone else. It was dark enough for her to blend in with the shadows, so she was going out in hope of finding more people like her, or even just to get an opportunity to practice her power. She went into her room and changed into a motorcycle jacket, slightly heavier black jeans and sturdy motorcycle boots. She'd have to ditch her jacket if she wanted to extend her power anywhere past her hands, but that was just part of life for her. She'd learned her lesson after singeing too many jackets.

    She grabbed her black scarf and shoved it into one of her pockets, shoving her pepper spray into another. She wasn't going out completely unarmed- not in this weather, where her power mightn't even work properly. She shut off the TV as she headed out, grabbing her keys and heading downstairs. She relaxed a little as she got onto her bike and got moving. The speed always helped her mind shut down as she was forced to concentrate on the road and nothing but the road.

    As she stopped at a red light, a orange glow against the sky caught her attention. The familiar glow almost called to her. It was long past sunset, so there was only one thing it could be. Fire. She grinned underneath her helmet. That was where she was going, then.
     
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  3. The McClain Residence
    Kilbride, Crescent City, California


    "Roof! Roof!" scrambling into the living room of their apartment, a gigantic alien squirrel named Shikacha began to call for his legal guardian.

    "Well, you're home early. You know we don't start the job 'til tomorrow, right?" fully involved in his natural physique, Roofworus was actually speaking in his native tongue. Sitting in an old Lazy Boy recliner, he was firmly facing the television.

    "I know, I really know, but there's something slightly more important happening," he panted, waiting for the elder extraterrestrial to give his full attention.

    Briefly turning his neck, he muted the television "I know. The Fringe marathon is on. I'm not leaving this spot until I'm caught up for the season premiere." That said, he picked up the remote and scaled the volume up higher than it had been.

    "Nooo!" the treebound mega-mammal whined. "The city is in danger!"

    "You're in danger of me losing my patience, kid! Now shuddup and let me watch the show!" The bestial bounty hunter beared his fangs and was literally barking, his snout crinkled and 'lips' pulled taut. His green eyes seemed to zoom and center on Shikacha's throat. A murderous growl seeming to echo in the squirrel's soul.

    "No, I'm trying to help you. You can't watch satellite if nuclear radiation is jamming the signal," saying that, he watched the Kanid's expression subside. "A wild fire is going to blow out the nuclear plant."

    "Prepare to board The Bloodhound," he reluctantly shut the TV off, deeply sighing. "We have a job to do." He swabbed his finger over a pressure sensitive button on the cream colored bracelet around his wrist, instantly hearing the roar of his spacecraft's engine bursting to life before the sonic cloak kicked in. Right in front of their front door, was the gnarliest transport in the area. In five seconds, the dynamic duo from the stars bolted from their living room into the battle ship.

    Inside the cockpit, Roofworus claimed his seat as the pilot while Shikacha planted himself behind the controls of the turrets. Lifting above all the architecture, the ship primed itself for higher speeds. Roofworus checked the onboard compass before placing his claw against a map pinned to the wall behind the controls. When a green light mounted above the 'windshield' indicated the engine was fully active, they cruised through the city skies. A massive cloud behind them indicated that they'd broken the sound barrier. A moment later, they were hovering above the smokestacks of the plant.

    "Oh.. the things I'll do for love."
     
    #3 Nightrunner, Dec 14, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 14, 2014
  4. “This is Darren Bronsky coming to you live from the Spires for Channel 11 News. I’m currently standing outside city hall where a large crowd is advancing on the building where the mayoral debate is currently taking place.”

    The T.V. immediately died into a black screen as Jace clicked the remote control button. He took a quick sip of his coffee, now turned cold after being glued to the news for quite a while. Removing his sunglasses shortly, he rubbed his index finger over his forehead and his eyelids, adjusting the changes to his vision that his eye wear had provided and then placed them back on. The newspaper haven't been touched since it was bought but after hearing the news, his mind already grasped on a much clearer view of what was happening outside. He heard a lot about the mayoral elections but there wasn't a single ounce of expectation in him to see the city being stormed by a relentless uprising. Jace wasn't clearly sociable enough to care about the scrambling issues of the city nor was he well-informed of it. However, he wasn't in-favor of politicians sitting around and watching a chaos unfold as people drag themselves in fuming disputes. Regardless, he was curious enough to lead himself outside and sneak behind crowds of people. The weather in the midst of darkness was the least of his worries but there were possibilities that could slow him down, one of which is heavy rainfall.

    Jace descended to his basement, where most of his strategic ploys are planned and operated. But as undercover as he considered himself to be, he lacked substantial amounts of supplies especially ones that would help him with information. Jace did plan to buy a computer himself but the risks of his suspicious presence would definitely caught the eye of people outside. Nonetheless, he assured to himself that would be solved as soon as possible, after all, money wasn't a primary hindrance. Sailing to his drawer, Jace pulled his usual dark, thick leather cloak and immediately wore them followed by the rest of his attire. After putting his boots and biker gloves on, he grabbed his gas mask, adjusting it carefully in order to avoid widened spaces that would make it fall off. Afterwards, he left the basement in quick march. He decided to bring the T.V. back to life, looking for more information as to where he would go.

    “Things have rapidly escalated down here at the City Hall. What looked like a protest approaching the mayoral debate has quickly turned into a riot.”

    Jace vigilantly took the words on a note, slowing them down as they were spoken. Then after hearing the City Hall, he turned the TV off. He whirled to the windows and took a glance outside. The view had an unusual sight, Jace took a few adjustments to his vision, blinking rapidly as he positioned his sunglasses. Then as he angled his sights, he took a vivid view of a fiery orange color, blossoming high into the air as it was surrounded by thick black smoke. It immediately caught his attention which made him pace to the door. He opened it and as he went outside, he ran towards an apartment which was a few distance away from his house. He directly leaped into the wall, landing with his legs and arms. With that, he started running on the wall at a fast momentum as he tried to reach a part of the building where he could get a clearer view of the rising smoke. Then after he climbed up, almost as near as the building's peak, he acquired the view from where the smoke had been rising from. Jace adjusted his vision again and after that, he trembled slightly, trying to wipe his mask from the drips of rain.

    After obtaining a glimpse of the incident, Jace was left uncertain whether or not he'll proceed to the city hall. He had plans on going to the area where the explosion had erupted but his plan from the start was something he'd prioritize himself. He slowly descended down the building's walls, avoiding to slither down on the slippery sides that the rain had caused. Once he descended to the ground, he went back to his house, immediately proceeding to the garage where his motorcycle had rested.
     
    #4 Magical Caffeine, Dec 14, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 17, 2014
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  5. Bishop & Wilkinson HQ, The Tower District, New Lilith.

    The news woman had kept repeating the same news over and over for the past hour. Riots, riots, riots. A fire. Thomas Bishop rubbed his temples grudgingly. He was tired, and had a headache. "Turn it off." he said as he spun around in his comfortable leather chair, now overlooking Crescent City through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Joshua Bishop oblidged. The rain pattered the glass panes, a relaxing sound. Thomas listened intently to it, and felt his headache ease slightly. Outside, it was dark. The sun had set. Crescent City looked beautiful at night, Thomas thought. Well, from where he was seated anyway. The poor bastards down in the Narrows might disagree.
    "You good?" he heard Josh say from behind.
    "Yeah, fine. Nothing some scotch won't solve." he answered while turning around again to face Josh, offering a faint smile. It had been a very long day. First, he had spent the morning unsuccessfully trying to pin down the mayor. Normally he'd let one of his secretaries handle these things, but these were not normal circumstances. He needed to get in touch with the mayor - again - and work out a plan to keep the sod in office. He knew the mayor was in De Vitis' pockets, and a man that could be bought was a man that could be controlled. After making sure the mayor was kept in play, the next step would be to get a handle on the De Vitis syndicate. Thomas was under no illusions, however; Raul De Vitis was probably thinking the very same thoughts about Thomas. Either way, the mayor had been unreachable. It was a hectic time for him, sure, but it unnerved Thomas nontheless. After lunch, he had then been sat in a long and arduous meeting with his dear father-in-law, Geoffrey Wilkinson. The man was a stubborn fuck. And not the good kind of stubborn like his daughter, but the conniving, pesky, malign old tumour that would never go away. It was incredible how strong of a mind the old fart had. Despite years and years having gone by, Thomas still had a difficult time steering Geoffrey in the right direction. Today, Thomas had used his powers on him once again. He already knew that Geoffrey was up to something, but he needed to know what. Wilkinson wanted Thomas gone, but how would he go about it? What did he plan? How long had he planned it? When was he gonna make a move? Thomas still lacked an answer to these questions, and soon he would be forced to make a move first, in the dark.

    Then, following the meeting, all hell had broke loose down at the City Hall. The protesting was fine. Hell, a couple of riots would have been fine too. But automatic weapons being unloaded at the police, and live on TV as well? Unacceptable. Since then, Thomas had done what he could to control the damage, which was really fuck all. It was bad enough with this mysterious storm and the floods that had followed, the city didn't need this shit on top of it. The only thing Thomas had been able to do was two things. The first was putting pressure on the CCPD to crack down hard on the protesters, but the police hardly needed an incentive to beat down rioters who had already opened fire at them. The second thing, and this was more important, was to divert the local media. Instead of letting the rioting headline the news, Thomas had been able to sway some of the major news outlets to focus on the explosive fire that had erupted down in the Power District. The rioting was obviously connected to the election, whereas the fire was not. Simply put, Thomas was covering the truth as best as he could with dollar bills. The next step was to turn the cause of the rioting on its head; make it out to be a result of the storm and floodings, or looters and anarchists taking advantage of the dire situation. Whatever worked.

    Now, Thomas was on a break. The long day and use of his powers had made him very tired, and as he now left his office with Josh in tow, all he could think about was that the need for a fine scotch was probably the only thing he had been honest about today. He cackled and shook his head, while waving off his wondering brother. They got inside the elevator and started making their long way down from the top of the building.
    "This city is heading for the gutters fast, Josh. Straight to the fucking gutters."
     
    #5 cider, Dec 15, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 16, 2014
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  6. All was calm inside of the apartment. The rain was hitting the window at its usual rhythm in Los Paraíso.
    Back at the school, at the Pacific Royal Collegiate and University up in Canada, a downpour like this wasn't all that common. It had rained at times, but the climate had been different.
    This whole storm, though far worse than she had ever witnessed, made her feel nostalgic. It made her remember her home back in the Netherlands where rain fell nearly all year round. Or at least that's how the Dutch always exaggerated it.

    Tonight the rain wasn't the only thing that made Emma Naaktgeboren feel nostalgic. She was laying on her stomach, on top of the bedding in her room, with one hand propped up to hold her head. Laying there, her feet swaying back and forth slightly, she looked at a photo she was holding. There were seven people in the photo. Her teammates back at PRCU. All six of them amazing people, and some of her greatest friends she had made in two years.
    The composition was that of the typical group selfie, Emma in the front holding the camera. It had been a miracle to get them all to smile and be a part of this photo, but it had felt like the right thing to do. She'd insisted on taking this picture soon after Minnie had gotten out of the infirmary. Em had claimed back then that it was to commemorate their adventurous game, and because a next time things could end up far worse. So she had dragged everyone in. Minnie, Tory, David, Hunter, Erika, and Aiden. Team Blackjack.

    It was strange how right she had been. Not much later David was ripped away from their presence thanks to Kowalski's schemes. The team never was the same after that.
    The blonde placed the photo face down on the bed and sighed. New recruits had been brought in, though she hadn't really had the time to get to know them. She had signed up to come here. She missed them, wondering if they had replaced her in the team as well.
    Em slid off of the bed and looked out the window. From where her window was she couldn't see a great deal into the city, but she could look at the skies. In theory. The streams on the window made for a blurry view. What she could see however was that in a distance the air seemed to light up. Strange.
    Reaching out Emma picked up a pair of binoculars that weren't there a moment ago. Not thinking straight Emma opened the window, letting the rain wreck havoc on the papers on the windowsill. "Kutzooi." She cursed in her native tongue, closing the window as quick as she had opened it.

    In her hurry she had dropped the binoculars on the ground, breaking one of the glasses. She'd take care of that later, her main priority were the papers. They contained important information on her mission. Stuff she still had to go through.
    Luckily there wasn't any real damage, save for a few drops here and there.
    After placing them on the bed to dry, Emma looked at the clock. Crap, she was supposed to give a report to HELP in three hours and she hadn't done her task in the past two days. Who could blame her, walking around in the rain wasn't exactly a fun task.
    Groaning Emma picked up her jacket that had been drying over a chair, and checked it. It was mostly dry by now, save for the rims of her sleeves.

    Quickly undoing herself of her regular clothes Emma changed into her vigilante outfit, without the mask, and covered it with clothes she borrowed from her closet. Perfect.
    Just before heading out Em took out her phone to check for any messages. There wasn't anything major, other than a news alert about riots near City Hall. It wasn't her district, but it was something. Maybe a Hyper would show up. With a wave of the hand the binoculars were gone, as were the small pieces of broken glass. She slipped her coat on and walked out the door. City Hall riots here she comes.
     
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  7. [​IMG]
    KILBRIDE, CRESCENT CITY: THE ROWS

    T
    he rain pelted down against the black car as it slowed to a stop. Climbing out of the driver’s side door, Ewan Maddox opened an umbrella before going to the back door of the Dodge Charger to help Zebulun out of his car seat. Clutching a bouquet of flowers in one hand against his leather jacket, while holding his son in his other arm, Ewan walked through the rows of gravestones towards a large tombstone with a carved angel hovering over it. Placing the flowers at the grave, he kneeled down, kissing two of his fingers and pressing them against the inscription. Zebulun hobbled along the ground, stepping over the blue roses that Ewan had placed on Drew’s grave as he hugged the tombstone.

    “I miss you Mommy.” His little voice said as he took a step back as Ewan picked him up.

    “We both miss you Drew.” Ewan said looking towards the strange sky, the dark clouds swirling around as the low rumble of thunder echoed over Kilbride. Lightning flashed to the East, illuminating the tip of Old Stone Mountain. Ever since the storm had begun, Ewan had been suffering from a ringing in his ears and it only seemed to get stronger the closer he was to the Mountain. A small smirk crossed his face as he recalled the first time he and Drew went up the mountain with a twenty-four of rum and camped out at the Stone Circle. There wasn’t much sleeping in the tent that night, Ewan recalled as his smirk became wider. It suddenly fell off his face as his traced over a second name on the granite surface.

    Ashalynn Venus Maddox

    Today marked what would have been Ashalynn’s first birthday, Ewan should have been celebrating with his family at home in their warm condo. Instead he was standing under an umbrella in the freezing October rain marking the anniversary of the loss of half his family. Reaching inside of his jacket, Ewan pulled out a little plush pink bunny as he placed it underneath the embossed teddy bear.

    “Happy birthday Twinkle Toes.” Ewan muttered recalling the name he had given the kicking unborn daughter.

    “Happy Birthday Ashalynn.” Zeb muttered, struggling with his sister’s name before hugging the cold granite again as he reached out from Ewan’s arms.

    “I love you both so much.” Ewan said as he turned back towards the car, pausing as he looked skyward, his eyes staring through the clouds wishing he could see the stars above. The first night he and Drew had really connected they had laid out under the stars just staring up at them. With the storm clouds covering the city, Ewan couldn’t see a single star. He felt disconnected and he hated it.

    “What do you say, we go do something a bit warmer?” Ewan asked as Zebulun rubbed his little eyes and nodded solemnly. Smiling, Ewan placed the little guy into his car before climbing into the driver’s seat and turning the car around. Reaching up, he adjusted the rear-view mirror as he watched Zeb looking out the window back towards his mother’s tombstone. A small tear rolled down Ewan’s face as he realized that they both would end up growing up without a mother, though at least Drew had an excuse unlike his own. Exiting the Rows, Ewan merged onto one of Crescent City’s main highways as he headed towards Los Paraíso. Due to the evacuations along the waterfront, Ewan had closed down the club and temporarily converted it into a center for any refugees caught without a home.

    The drive went by quickly as Ewan turned the radio on and decided to cheer Zeb up as the two of them belted out some nineties alternative together. Zeb had taken a liking to Our Lady Peace as he sang along with ‘Superman’s Dead’. Driving around behind the building, Ewan pulled the large black car into his parking spot. Quickly running to the door as he held his coat open over Zeb, Ewan nodded to his front of house manager as he entered the back door.

    “Did many people check in for the night?” Ewan asked as Bryce handed him a clipboard. Bryce Kain had been one of Ewan’s closest friends ever since the two of them had met at Kilbride Collegiate Academy when they were fourteen. Of all of Ewan’s friends, Bryce was the only one aside from Drew and his parents who know that Ewan’s birth name was Eugene. It was a common threat of his to say he’d reveal Ewan’s secret in retaliation for Ewan giving him a hard time saying he’d need to work late. When Ewan had opened up Nevermind, he found out that Bryce had recently been laid off from his job and while the pay wasn’t amazing, Ewan offered him the position anyways. Bryce gladly accepted and while he’d never admit it, he hadn’t ever worked a job he enjoyed as much as managing at the club.

    “Almost twice as many as last night. It’s getting worse out there E.” Bryce said before raising a hand in front of Zeb. “What’s up Z-Man? How about an apple juice?”

    “On the rocks bartender!” Zebulun barked back with a smile as Bryce and Ewan chuckled.

    “Sure thing boss.” Bryce replied as Ewan and Zebulun followed him through the kitchen and into the main lounge area as Ewan looked around the dance floor seeing all the sleeping bags laid out on the floor while people lined up against the kitchen where staff had volunteered to serve hot soup and sandwiches to those who came in. The sound of angry cursing caught Ewan’s attention however as he turned and saw a rough looking man arguing with another one of the bartenders.

    “What’s going on there?” Ewan asked Bryce with a concerned glance.

    “That’s Joseph Peaks. He’s a former Olympian gymnast who choked and had a bad fall. Permanently injured his leg and somehow went blind. Sunk into a really bad depression, squandering all his money on alcohol reducing himself to nothing but a homeless drunk. He’s been in here the last two nights harassing the staff for a drink but we’ve told him every time we’re not giving out alcohol. Claims it keeps the visions away whatever that means.” Bryce answered while he began to walk with Ewan towards the scene.

    “What seems to be the problem here?” Ewan asked approaching the disgruntled man, his voice was calm and soothing as he turned on his charm only for Joseph to suddenly turn and grab him.

    “You need to make it stop, the rain, the rain. We’re drowning, drowning in our own curiosity. They turned it on, they desecrated sacred ground and now we’re drowning. Like Atlantis, we’re going to sink. The teeth will open and swallow us whole! You need to turn it off! I see you, you can hear it too, you can hear it and you can turn it off. Make it stop please, make the visions stop!” The man’s babbling descended into sobbing as he slowly let go of Ewan, his cane falling to the ground as Joseph sunk to his knees, whimpering and clawing at his own eyes. Startled and caught off guard, Ewan shielded Zebulun as he stumbled backwards while Bryce pulled his cellphone out and dialed ‘911’. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I need a drink, I need to keep the visions away."

    “I need a paramedic down to the Nevermind club at 1813 Mayday Street. I’ve got a man overdosed on an unknown drug.” Turning to the other bartender Bryce gave him a stern look. “No matter what he pleads don’t give him alcohol, we have no idea what else is in his system.” Following after Ewan, Bryce called towards his long-time friend. “You look pretty shaken up, what’s the matter?”

    “Aside from just being assaulted by a deranged man. Not too much, except some of what he said made sense.” Ewan answered, muttering the last part of the sentence as he placed Zebulun down on a barstool.

    “Eh, you’re just as crazy as he is some days. Probably just gave you an idea for a song or something.” Bryce paused before dropping his voice and singing out in a bluesy tone. “Crescent City’s sinking and I don’t wanna swim.”

    “That’s taken…” Ewan said with a smile. Shaking his head, he took his jacket off and hung it up. “Alright, Zeb what do you say we help with the food and then you and I will head out of here.”

    “For ice cream?” Zeb asked, his eyebrows raised mischievously.

    “Isn’t it a little too cold outside for ice cream.” Ewan said with a chuckle as he tossed an apron onto himself.

    “It’s never too cold for ice cream Daddy.” Zeb replied confidently with a wide smile.

    “You are your mother’s son Zebby.” Ewan laughed as he ruffled the boy’s hair. “Fine, we’ll go for ice cream, but first you and I are going to serve some soup up, deal?”

    “Deal!” Zebulun said extending a small hand as Ewan shook it before heading over to the kitchen to lend his staff a hand.
     
    #7 Lord Wraith, Dec 17, 2014
    Last edited: Jan 29, 2015
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  8. A bearded man with long, dark hair neatly braided down his back took a deep breath through his nose and eventually out his mouth in a calm, relaxed manner. He moved his hands in motion with the breathing, sitting legged in a small, simple room. There was a single window to his right and a large Ohm symbol carefully drawn on the wall in front of him. He repeated the process, his eyes closed and his mind shut off from the outside world. Candle light offered warm embers in a half circle around the man, illuminating an already light room with bright white walls. “Welcome home, habibi.” The man spoke, a soft almost melodic voice leaving his lips. He didn’t break concentration but knew that the addition of footsteps and the sound of a closing door belonged to his son.

    “Hey, dad.” Layne responded, dropping his shoulder bag on the kitchen table and reached for the television controller. The boy’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper. One would perhaps think him melancholy at first before realising his default demeanour. Turning on the television, Layne quickly switched to the news. It hadn’t taken long for the news crew to reach the location and were filming the riot in progress. Layne had to pass the city hall on his way back home from school and needless to say, it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

    “You were leaving again soon, weren’t you?” Khalil ascended to his feet and stretched his body before heading out of the yoga room and met his son in the kitchen. Their apartment was small but cozy, decorated through fengshui to allow a spiritually healthy atmosphere. Was it not for his son, Khalil would have been able to do without a television but even he would admit that it was good to know what was going on in the city from time to time.

    “Yeah.” Layne responded, his attention fixed on the screen. The riot was set on fire, literally. Their signs were burning and it was hard to follow what was actually going on. Since Layne just got home he hadn’t followed the entire news skit and passing by city hall was a very quick ordeal.

    “Just be careful, yes? This city has been touched by chaos…” One was afraid of leaving one’s home at times because of what the city had come to, not to mention the immense flooding. It was like a nightmare, but Layne wasn’t about to give up his one hobby and stay imprisoned in their home because of a riot.

    “I’ll be careful.” The boy replied, heading into his room. Living in New Lilith had its benefits and it was mainly the sky scrapers. Layne and his father lived on a high floor of a sky scraper and it felt safe with all the chaos roaming the city. Layne reached into his bag and produced a history book and placed it on his desk before dropping down on a chair and pulled out a note book. He hated homework but it needed to be done before he could go and enjoy another airsoft event. They happened three times a week and he usually attended each one, being the designated sniper of his team “Blitz” as they were called. There was an upcoming tournament around the corner and he had been training viciously to preform as well as he possibly could. Luckily, the atmosphere in his team wasn’t as toxic as it was in video games. This was a game, a sport, but it was also real life and no one was hiding behind a screen, calling everyone else a ‘noob’ and throwing insults about them. It was a friendly competition and Layne was considered a little brother to everyone in the team, despite their similar age.

    An hour passed and Layne could finally put the book aside, having answered all the questions his teacher had given them about the civil war. “Dinner’s ready, habibi.” Khalil shouted from the kitchen, preparing the table. The man was a vegetarian, but respected his son’s less spiritual lifestyle. Layne had never given much thought to what he ate but was usually full after half a plate. “No magazines at the table!”

    “Sorry.” It was common to see Layne flipping through gun magazines, his fascination of the subject held high. It was rather ironic how Khalil was a pacifist, dedicating his life to his spiritual beliefs while his son dreamt about the next airsoft gun he’d buy. While real guns were indeed interesting, they were scary to say the least and with the city’s rampant crime, Layne never wanted to come in contact with one. He knew the difference between a sport and reality. The mere thought of holding an actual gun sent chills down his spine. Hopefully he’d never come to a situation where that would be forced upon him to begin with.

    Salmon with hollandaise sauce, potatoes and vegetables were neatly placed on Layne’s plate while quorn and tofu in a salad was Khalil’s preferred choice of food. The two enjoyed some small talk before dinner eventually came to a conclusion and Layne could leave for his long awaited activity. He slung his bag over his shoulder and hurried towards the elevator before he could exit the sky scraper and started towards the sports hall. Luckily, all of his equipment was stored in a locker at the airsoft center so that he didn’t have to haul it around, not to mention the legal issues if someone saw the ‘guns’ and wrongfully thought them actual weapons.

    He’d hope that he could get to his destination quickly through any other means but given the fact that he didn’t have a car or a driver’s licence he would have to go past city hall again. Maybe the riot had thinned out by now, but it was unlikely.
     
    #8 Shard, Dec 17, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 17, 2014
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  9. Nuclear Power Plant
    Crescent City, California


    "Too bad The Bloodhound doesn't have a water spout, that would make this a lot easier. What are we gonna do?" Shikacha began to panic as he saw the wall of flame barreling towards the nuclear plant. "That would make this a lot easier. Or if there was a water tower around." The brown haired beast chattered, "Or if there was a fireproof barrier. Come to think of it, this is really a preventable problem." Every time it seemed he was done talking, he added another sentence. "We don't even have any tanks of fire extinguisher." Drumming his hands along the panel of weapons built into the ship, he anxiously muttered, "I'll have to install some later. If we can just get throught his now, then I'll.." blah blah bla-blah blah blabla.

    Completly disregarding his younger companion, Roofworus sneered, "You'd think humans would eventually realize that putting nuclear plants in their major cities is a terrible idea," Piloting his spacecraft over the blazing field, he set it to hover mode before checking the map. Dropping his finger against it, he said, "Shik, take over piloting. Take us to the docks."

    "But the fire!"

    "-Needs water! And I'm going to get us some. So shut up and fly!" At that, the squirrelly sidekick leapt into the driver's seat and threw the ship into overdrive. An instantaneous sonic boom paid them farewell before they were above the docks the next moment. "Keep her in orbit, I'll be back." Opening the side hatch, Roofworus attached a carabiner to a hook in the cockpit's ceiling, strung to his own vest by a bungee cord.

    When the Kanid dropped, he sprung up and down a few times before reaching a comfortable point. At once, he detached his jacket from the bungee cord, and then plummeted ten feet downward. Wasting no time, he ran past the people on the street, completely alien in appearance. If it weren't for the Fringe marathon at stake, he may have made an effort to cloak his ship or disguise himself. No time for that now. Running into an alleyway, right beside a bar he frequented, he found a dumpster. Perfect. He wedged himself behind the trash bin befpre shoving it over, emptying its garbage onto the pavement.

    A voice that sounded like a crackling deep frier spat at him, "Hey! What's wrong with y.." Gasping, a burly man backed off, stepping back into the doorway he'd emerged from. "You." Shocked by his appearance, the man ran inside, shaken by what he just saw. But, seeing as he owned a bar, no one would believe any stories about an werefox tipping his trash bin.

    "Shik, pick this thing up!" Roofworus barked over radio broadcast. He saw his ship soar overhead before stopping on a dime. With its shadow cast over him, the pilot ejected a pair of hooks that grabbed into each side of the bin, before they reeled in and heaved it off the ground. "Now go fill it up and set it in front of the plant."

    "Umm," lacking any confidence in his bossm the squirrel said, "we need more water than this."

    "Exactly why I'm staying behind. You go drop these off as fast as you can while I scout out more bins." After giving his explanation, The Bloodhound bolted off, dipping the recepticle in the ocean before rushing as quickly as possible to deposit it in front of the power plant. Over broadcast, he said, "And Shik.. if we don't succeed, I want you to pick me up and fly us to Canada. They'll probably have decent reception there."
     
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  10. Abby left her bike in an alley a few streets away from the fire, not wanting to risk the fire spreading and coming into contact with it. First of all, fire and petrol weren't exactly a great mix. She might have been fireproof, but the shockwaves from an explosion could still shatter her bones and set fire to just about everything else. Second of all, if anything happened to her bike, she'd be pissed. She'd be without transportation, without a release, and she'd have to save for a new bike instead of her doctorate program.

    She stowed her helmet under the seat and shoved her keys into her pocket, before pulling out her scarf and tying it around her mouth and nose. It helped to protect her identity, as well as limiting the amount of smoke getting into her lungs. She slid a bobby pin into her hair, pinning back her bangs and patted her pockets, making sure that she still had her pepper spray. And with that, she started jogging towards the fire.

    It was huge, even bigger than she'd originally thought. She grimaced beneath her scarf. She'd just have to try and minimise the damage. There was no way she could try and put all of this out. If she tried to absorb that energy, she'd risk destroying her own cells. She took into a jog, trying to determine where she needed to be. She wasn't afraid to stick close to the flames, knowing that they couldn't do any damage to her.

    She turned down an alleyway and froze. Was that... a spaceship? Or had she accidentally inhaled some toxic fumes that were starting to make her hallucinate? It flew away and she shook her head, taking back into a run. She knew that the nuclear power plant was around her somewhere- was that safe? She kept running, altering her course to bring her towards it. She swore under her breath as she noticed that the flames were starting to head for it, and kept running, picking up her speed a little.
     
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  11. The rain worsened. It wasn't quite possible for Jace to navigate methodically with rainfall thudding against his mask and muddling his overall vision as he continued on his tracks. It felt like he made an unwise decision on blending with the current weather but then again, he wouldn't let himself rest until his curiosity is fed. Besides, how could rainfall harm him? Perhaps there would be a possibility of an excruciating cold that'd follow by but that won't be of any significance to his worry. The only thing that baffled him greatly was his negligence and the fact that he forgot to bring any kind of gear that'd protect him from the rain.

    He stopped by at an alleyway, with just a few walks towards the city hall. The rain still wasn't getting any better as it poured down heavily. Jace wiped his dripping mask to clear his vision, then rolled his motorcycle slowly and parked it against a wall. As he started locking it with chains, Jace went through a certain thought whether or not it was wise to leave his motorcycle behind with the risk of being hijacked by unknown people. Regardless, if ever it was bound to happen, Jace's tracking skills would be there to aid him. With the padlock attached to the chains, Jace sealed it with its keys, then placing the keys inside his pocket.

    Outside was a flock of heated turmoil. Even with the heavy rainfall, crowds of raging protesters rallied ceaselessly against the city hall. Soaked signs of disputes were raised above their heads, banging up and down as they chanted their revolting shouts. Jace's intentions of sneaking behind the crowd drifted away gradually as more of the protesters rumbled with heavy growls filled with rage. That was when the SWAT arrived. With the situation out of hand, automated weapons have been unloaded by some of the frenzied rioter's disposal, seeking to take things under their control as they emerged from the chaotic crowd. Obviously the action was carried out from fear but it wasn't at their awareness that their move could amplify the chaos that has already been scrambling throughout the city hall.

    More vehicles arrived towards the city hall, speeding up a bit just to provide immediate back-up. However, as Jace continued to watch the chaos from a distance, there was an unsettling presence that he had caught with his senses. Of course, he didn't know where it was coming from but as soon as he heard a gun coiled up and pointed to his head, he grasped at the situation right away. Jace raised his hand as he felt the muzzle directly.
    "That's right, raise your arms up if you don't want this shit going through your head." Surprisingly, it was a female's voice. Jace tried to keep as calm as possible. His reflexes would certainly deflect anything that would come to his harm but he wasn't intending to get the person hurt or anything worse than that.

    "Do what I say if you want to live." To Jace, the attempt of the woman seemed to be less threatening. She sounded like she was worried, terrified of the unknown. Still, Jace wasn't planning on a move. He just froze and awaited the words that'd slip from the woman's lips.

    "If you want the motorcycle, I suggest you shouldn't because I just bought this. You know money is quite difficult to get these days." Jace finally spoke though his speech was mostly hinted by sarcasm. Of course, he knew the woman has no intention to steal his bike unless his assumption would take a turn and the woman would truly want to take his bike.

    "I don't want your fucking bike!" The woman exclaimed, tightening her hands on the pistol's grip. She was gasping for breath, truly one of the indications that she was scared and Jace already knew he was right about it. "I want you to retrieve a person for me. A child, a little girl whom I lost within that blasted crowd." The woman's voice started to tremble, like she was in the verge of tears.

    "You lost your daughter? You're quite the responsible mother, aren't ya?" Jace sneered. "And now you're putting that responsibility to me? Hm...very wise."

    "I don't want your judgement!" She exclaimed again but her second attempt sounded like she was pleading, only in an unwelcoming way. "Do you want a bullet fastened in that goddamn head of yours or would you take my demand and find that child?"

    Jace wasn't aiming to accept her terms but knowing the fact that he forgot to bring his two daggers forced himself to lament over his own stupidity. Regardless, if it was the benefit for an innocent person, it wouldn't be a problem to do it. However, his primary plans were renewed as he was scheming to sneak inside of the building where the mayoral election was taking place and going through the woman's demand seemed like it was a waste of time.

    A heavy sigh was exhaled as Jace put his arms down. The woman shook with panic as she tried to click the trigger. The pistol was intervened with Jace grabbing it all of a sudden as he turned towards the woman. "I'll bring you back the child if you let me have this." The woman struggled with her grip of the gun but it was immediately snagged and taken away by Jace. "Give that back, you masked freak!" She shouted but Jace sprinted away from her. The woman was unable to catch up to him as he gained distance.

    "I'm just a random stranger but you can trust me. You'll have your daughter back, just take care of my bike!" Raising his voice to make his statement clear, Jace vanished from the alleyway. Once he was out of sight, he climbed a near electric post with haste and as he reached the peak, he caught a clearer view of the crowd from above regardless of the rain. There was no child sighted but surely, it wouldn't be possible unless he'd get close to the settlement. There was just one problem that proved to be another result of his negligence; the child's appearance.

    "Ah, fuck it." Jace muttered as he sighed and slowly descended to the ground.
     
    #11 Magical Caffeine, Dec 17, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 17, 2014
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  12. Once Layne got closer to city hall he could hear a hail of gunfire which froze him in place. The repeated sound of bullets being released in a smatter of shots noted the type of weapon, assault rifles. Second thoughts were starting to creep up his spine and he felt his body shaking. ‘I just need to run around the crowd, it won’t be so bad…besides, I’m closer to the sports hall now than home anyways. C’mon Layne…you can do it.’ It was perhaps a twisted desire for curiosity which prevented the more logical choice of just turning back and going home. He wanted to see what had happened in the midst of chaos but didn’t want to be shot in the back of his neck. Forcing his feet to move once more, Layne gulped down his fears and continued closer to city hall, hearing the riot in full fury with screams, shouts and even more gunshots. ‘Turn back, you idiot.’ He kept telling himself to go in the opposite direction but he was in too deep. Layne peeked behind a corner to see the large crowd standing in the vicious rain, protesting in ways that couldn’t possibly help their cause.

    Despite his jacket, the rain was seeping down to his skin and soaked his clothes to the core. ‘Okay, okay…going home. I can airsoft tomorrow. It’s not worth dying over…’ As he turned back, Layne felt a hand grasping his shoulder and forcefully pressed him against the wall. Nearly panicking, Layne managed to keep his composure but once a knife was pressed against his throat he almost felt his legs give in. The boy looked up to see a large man grinning down at him.

    “‘Ello, lad.” The man spat, reaching into Layne’s shoulder bag and grinned widely once he got hold of the pistol inside. “Well! What do we ‘ave ‘ere, mate?” The gun did in all intents and purposes look real and was made of metal, weighing nearly the same as an actual 1911. With his attention on Layne, it was safe to assume that the assailant believed the weapon real as he pressed the muzzle against Layne’s chest and had the knife held towards his throat. “Thought ye’ could protect yerself’ with this, lad? This is a dangerous place, dontcha’ know?” Layne didn’t answer, not that he could with an edged blade against his throat. He felt his heartbeat escalating in fear and disgust with the man’s alcoholic breath attacking the kid’s nose as the assailant leaned closer. “Now, I want ye to reach into tha’ bag of yers and gimme’ ye’ wallet. Think ye can do tha’, mate?”

    This entire situation was so messed up. Layne could barely comprehend what was going on, the shock too powerful to allow him full comprehension of his surroundings. With a shaking hand, Layne slowly reached into his bag, looking for his wallet without breaking eye contact with the robber. This riot had attracted very foul people and it was only logical. In the midst of chaos it was easy to rob people with the police completely occupied by the riot. It was the perfect buffet of stragglers. “Come on! I dun have all day, lad!” It was hard to place this man’s accent but he was either Scottish or from Ireland. Was he part of that crime group? Layne didn’t know much about crime and organisations but he was certain that when they made a hit, they were more than one person.

    After rummaging through his bag, Layne finally came in contact with his wallet and started bringing it up. His quick heartbeat was nearly forcing him to a faint and he wanted to cry but no tears were dripping down his cheeks, not yet. The heavy rain would mask it either way, but they had yet to come.

    This man could easily kill the boy in silence and run away with his money. It was quick and silent and everyone was either smart enough to stay home or stupid enough to be in the riot. This wasn’t looking good and signs of salvation were vacant. This man wasn’t even wearing a mask, but rather sported his crooked face, grinning widely to reveal his yellowed teeth and bad breath. Layne had seen too much and no matter what he chose to do, this man would probably kill him. It wouldn’t be the first time someone was killed close to a mass of people through a mugging. If someone wanted your money and was desperate enough, things could go sour very fast. “‘Ere we go, lad! Now, slip into my bag, come on!” Layne did as he was asked, reaching over to the man’s bag hanging down his shoulder, praying that it wouldn’t be the last thing he was going to do.
     
    #12 Shard, Dec 18, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 18, 2014
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  13. Gurrard and the surrounding neighborhood were quiet, only a handful of people shuffling quickly under the constant rain, seeking shelter. With no prey really to find, the dregs of society had other avenues as of late; with the building tensions of the city, several had headed downtown, the protestors could be easy pickings for pick pockets, a woman could be lured from a group, and the violent would incite violence. But the crooks, the thieves, the robbers? The evacuation of much of the ocean side residences and businesses was like leaving bacon on your front porch for the wild life to feed off of. With the Police tied up elsewhere in the city, and other emergency services working frantically with the massive inferno, Wade found himself waist deep in water laden with filth. Dirt to sewage, to chemicals from under the sinks and garages of homes for miles were a toxic stew. One he didn't have to worry about.

    The torrential rain made for a constant background roar as it splashed into the swollen sea, and came in rivers from the roofs of homes. The darkness was stifling, without electric lights from the shut off circuits, the only illumination was that which was reflected light pollution from the surrounding areas. Wade carried a small flashlight with him as he searched through the darkness, stripped of his clothes to prevent ruining them in the filth, he actually found the chill quite comfortable, his plated skin showing rings of dark accumulation against its natural ivory-like tones. Yet his nerves were on edge, as this street he was currently on, the doors were compromised. Two of them kicked in, the third simply unlocked and opened.

    This third home however, contained an unwelcome surprise; the body of a young man, his hair shaved, and his face now frozen in a look of shock and terror. The water around him was red, and it hadn't taken Wade long to find the cause; a hole in his chest, front and back, just below the sixth rib, angled upwards and in, the exit coming out behind the man's right shoulder blade. Crossing through the heart. In his hands, he still clutched onto the tools of his trade stiffly, his body rigidly locked into rigor mortis by the struggle to fight against death in his last moments. "They were kind in their method at least." Wade was crouched over the corpse, sighing as he raised the light to his mouth before rolling the body over, fishing the man's pockets for a wallet. The slim brown leather fold came free with a bit of tugging. The inside was devoid of cash, but his driver's license was still in place. "Well Mr. Cruz, I don't suppose you have any other treasures to share with me? A phone perhaps?" A further frisk of the man's body rewarded him further. With a bit of awkward dexterity, Wade pried the back off the phone, removing the battery, before pocketing the items. His left hand rose to take the light from his lips, as he shook his head. "Luckily for the two of us, your friends were hoping no one would find you for quite sometime." Pausing to look out the open door to the rain lashing down, "Well Mr. Cruz, how about we go reunite you with your friends?" Reaching out with his right hand, he took a thick handful of the body's clothes, just at the collar of the jacket, and stood up. "I'm sure you weren't a saint, but I doubt you deserved this. The least I can do is try to get the asshole who did this on a murder charge." Slogging back out into the rain, Wade carried on down the street, following the kicked open doors in search of the accomplices.
     
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  14. T
    he fire continued to rage as very little was done to stop it. In the distance the distinctive sound of sirens could be heard just above the roar of the blaze. As the ship overheard steered away, the occupants failed to notice that the rain did little to affect the flames as they continued to spread without the water slowing it down. A shower of sparks suddenly flew through the sky as a series of transformers crackled before exploding as the fire expanded further. Lights around the facility went dark as the power grid across the city began to slowly collapse as it struggled to support the demand upon it. Backup transformers struggled to turn on as they attempted to calibrate the necessary supply while emergency systems attempted to put the nuclear plant into cool-down. Workers rapidly evacuated from the plant as they ran into the night, many getting lost in the blaze, screams echoing into the night as the heat of the blaze almost instantly seared the skin from their bones. Overhead a thick toxic cloud of smoke had begun to form, slowly corrupting the air in the area.



    Lights all along the New Lilith downtown suddenly went dark leaving only the source of illumination the fires that littered the street. Burning signs, trashcans and cars flickered as the rain and wind was funneled down the narrow streets. Inside the town hall, people screamed as the lights went out, as security rushed to secure the mayoral candidates. Timothy Simmons, the current mayor was the first escorted to the back door followed by Emilie Blake and newcomer Armand de la Cruz. As the security burst through the backdoor they were rushed by rioters, gunfire illuminating the darkness as Simmons was seized by his suit and tossed to the ground. The angry mob set upon him, kicking and beating the helpless man before gunfire from the surrounding alleys interrupted them as a black Escalade pulled up. A standard vehicle of the De Vitis Crime Syndicate, the doors opened as several well-armed men rushed through the crowd, discharging their own weapons upon the riots who screamed as Simmons was rescued and hauled into the back of the SUV. The other two candidates were left behind as the vehicle left, and the rioters turned back on the mayoral candidates. Grabbing a handgun from one of the slaughtered security guards, Blake fired a few shots off before pushing Armand back inside the city hall and barricading the door of the now surrounded building.



    Watching from the upper level of a house while Vinnie rummaged through a hidden safe, Monty spotted the man across the street as he rummaged through the body of their newest and former Packo’. It was a bit of an inside joke among the Kings to call any new member to their crew ‘Packo’ as they had done with the locksmith they had forcible recruited while exploring the neighborhood.

    “Hey Monty, we’re going to have trouble. Looks like we picked up an admirer, you didn’t waste all your rounds shooting those pigeons two blocks ago did you?”

    “Always carry a spare clip!” Vinnie said with a smile as he pocketed a bundle of hundreds and came over to the window.

    “You do realize you look ridiculous with that on your hip right?” Monty said as he checked his own clip and motioned to the sword that Vinnie had begun sporting on his hip.

    “Hey, maybe we can try it out. It don’t need bullets.” Vinnie said, pulling the antique weapon out and giving it a spin.

    “You’ll likely cut your own damn head off.” Monty said as he gave Vinnie a slap to the back of the head before the two headed back downstairs.
     
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  15. Tensions were running viciously high in the city, any fool with two brain cells to rub together could tell you that. The freak weather was something out of this world, almost Biblical. He'd heard of some guy trying to build an Ark in his backgarden. Idiot. Still, he couldn't blame him completely. But being pretty much completely cut-off from the outside world? Now that was a worrying concept, one which eliminated any chance of an easy escape. Daniel hated being hemmed in, even if he did still have a whole city. And now the riots had started. City Hall was in an absolute shambles by the sounds of what they were saying on the radio.

    Daniel twisted his wrench one last time before stopping to concentrate on the broadcast. Apparently people and police had started to open fire. The man took a drag of the cigarette that was hanging loosely from his lips, before wiping a greasy hand across his forehead, merely smearing the black substance onto his face. He could hear the news reporter struggling to be heard over the gunfire and panic. The screaming.

    "End of days..." he muttered to himself, before chuckling and shaking his head.

    The man turned back to his duty. Business had been tough ever since the rain decided it wasn't going to go away, so when someone came in with a repair to do, the Grey brothers damn well made sure to do it as quickly as possible. Even if it required one or both of them to work late, as Daniel was doing. The whole motorcycle was a mess in his humble opinion, clearly not serviced properly for took long. But despite his determination Daniel was interrupted after just another three twists by the shop door slamming open suddenly.

    "Danny! DANNY!" the familiar voice of his brother, who for some reason sounded particularly panicked "Danny, get your ass out here!"

    A quizical look took over the man's face as he slowly placed his wrench down and picked up a cloth. Carefully standing, Daniel began to wipe his face at least a bit clean, turning off the radio before entering the shopfloor. And there was Chris, waiting in the doorway, visibly startled and looking worse than a drowned rat.
    "Chris, what's goi-"

    "Just get out here!"

    Without giving him a chance to answer, Chris wheeled himself back into the street and turned to look north. Gripped by curiosity, Daniel grabbed a nearby tan-coloured poncho and followed suit. He only managed to pull it over his head properly as he reached his brother's side.

    "Is this some kind of trick...." his last words trailed off quietly and his mouth fell agap, letting the still lit cigarette fall from his mouth. And there it was. Clear as dawn. A massive blaze in the Power District "Oh...fuuuu-"

    "Danny," his brothers voice was grim now, the rain providing the only other sound around them "It's heading for the plant."

    Daniel didn't react at first. He just stood there, staring at the distant haze. Even from where they were he could see the subtle flickers and movement. Then he got that feeling. That one when you know someone is looking at you. He turned to face Chris, and there his brother was, that sort of expectant look on his face.

    "What?" his brother just continued to look "What?! You expect me to do something about it? Wanna me to go shoot my pistols at the fire or something? Pew pew," he used his fingers as guns "Take that fire! C'mon...Chris...there'll be some Hype out there who'll be able to handle this."

    "Would you have said that about dad?"

    The younger brother wagged his mouth for a few moments. The scale of the situations were completely different. But the morals behind it, the point Chris was making. It was a difficult one to counter. Yes, he had to do something. But what? Could he shoot the fire? No...no that was just stupid. Dig a trench or try to divert it? Too time consuming. They needed firefighters, but they were all tied up at City Hall. Then inspiration came.

    "Trucks. We needed trucks. Ones that can contain liquid, like the tankers that transport fuel and that? We must know people who have got some? Pipes, pumps and hoses as well! Hell, we could probably even just ask business associates, right?"

    "Right!" Chris interjected "Get them to fill up with water; the Basin, the river, the fucking sewer, wherever! Setup pumps and hoses. The People's Fire Brigade. Hah! Think it'll really work?"

    "Fuck if I know Chris, just get to those people, tell them to meet in the Power District. Get on the line to anyone else who might help. And for Christ sake, get Tinker to let mum into his bunker. We all know he's got one!"

    "And you?"

    "I'll head to the Power District in my civilian clothes, see what's-what and maybe pick up a few more volunteers. They've gotta have some water source there too!" Daniel looked up at the sky and wavered slightly "Shit...let's do this!"

    With that said the two turned away from each other and set to their desperate tasks.

    ******

    After a quick five minutes of preparation picking up what he could and then a short ten minute journey to the Power District, Daniel came up to the main car park of the warehouses. Even from where he stood the heat was intense, almost overbearing, and he suddenly realised the scope of the danger. The impossible task ahead of them. Gulping down his nerves, Daniel secured his motorcycle (not his faithful Black Shadow, just a standard vehicle) and went over to what looked to be a security guard, approaching the man at a light canter. He was turned away, directing panicked people away from the area. Warehouse workers and admin staff alike fled the scene, rightfully fearing their lives. But Greg O'Connor was doing what he could.

    "What the hell happened here!" Daniel shouted over the chaos. For a moment the man seemed to ignore him, before doing a double take and swiveling around to look at Daniel.

    "Wh-...What the fuck are you doing here?! This place is going in flames," he grasped Daniel's shoulder and firmly started pushing him away "Get outta here!"

    "And then what?" the younger man protsted, shrugging the hand off forcefully "Get reduced to atoms when that plant blows?! Nah, not today anyway. Listen to me, you guys must have tankers here to hold liquid? A water source? Pumps, valves, the lot?"

    "Well...yeah. But what does that-"

    "Get their drivers. If you can't find the drivers, get someone who can drive them! Fill those bastards with water and start pumping that shit at the flames! The Fire Brigade ain't gonna be here anytime soon, and by the looks of it-"

    Daniel was interuppted by an all-mighty crackle as the transformers began to explode, causing the lights and electrics around them to go haywire. Now only the glare of the fire provided them with consistent lighting.

    "And by the looks of it, we ain't got much fucking time," Daniel finished. As he did, the first of the lovingly dubbed PFB trucks pulled up. A burely man know as Big Mac (he was aware of the connection) barreled out, followed by a group of four surly looking gentlemen, some of whom had had to hold onto the outside of the truck.

    "We 'eard you boys was having some fire troubles," he exclaimed in a voice that almost boomed.

    "No shit," Danny started "Glad someone actually turned up. Get your truck in front of the path and setup, then pump like you've never pumped before. I'll join you when I can! Oh, and try to wear as much protective shit as you've got to hand. These fumes could be dangerous!"

    The men agreed silently, before piling back in and setting off. Crazy bastards. Soon more trucks would be arriving to help. Or so he hoped.

    "What in damn heck are you people doing?" Greg was aghast.

    "Someone needs to fight that blaze," Daniel answered as he placed a filtered MDF mask over his head "More trucks should be coming soon. Tell them to get in front where we'll be, then get your own people together too!"

    Before any answer could be given, Daniel turned on his heels and shot off. He jumped onto his motorcycle and started it up, speeding toward the front of the fire. As he went he could have sworn he passed a young woman running in the same direction. What was she, crazy?! He arrived to see that Mac and his crew had already pulled up and were starting to get ready, connecting a set of pumps and hoses to the back of their truck. He stopped his bike a fair distance away and ran over to help. If the heat was intense before it was almost unbearable now. As Daniel reached for his work gloves he felt the one M1911 that he had brought with him. He wasn't here in a vigilante capacity, but you could never be too careful. Pulling on the thick gloves he set about helping the others.

    Just as they got setup and started furiously pumping water at the blaze another PFB truck pulled up and start off-loading their equipment. They would soon be followed by two more in about five minutes, and then anything that Greg could muster. The volunteers shouted and directed each other, concentrating on the worst parts of the blaze. And Daniel did his part, helping to direct one of the hoses.
    End of days indeed.
     
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  16. With the sudden break of lights, Layne's eyes travelled to a lamppost nearby and saw how it completely gave out. “What the fuck...?” The robber raised an eyebrow, breaking his attention from the boy for a few seconds.
    'Now, do it now!' It was now or never. No one was going to come and save him and Layne wasn't going to die in an alleyway by an alcoholic assailant. He felt his stomach turn at the very thought, his nerves nearly exploding and tears finally travelling down his cheeks. Layne's heartbeat accelerated rapidly, his breathing growing heavier. 'Now!' With the assailant's attention on the dimming lights and the enveloping darkness, Layne placed his hand on the robber's, Layne's fingertips coming in contact with the knife's hilt.

    “Tha' fu..?” Before the large man finished his sentence, an identical knife formed in Layne's other hand and was quickly shoved into the man's side as his hand was pushed aside, freeing the blade from the boy's throat. Screaming out in pain, he stumbled forward towards the wall and felt for the wound which had been inflicted. “Ya' fuckin' brat! I'm gonna' gut ye!” Layne nearly fell over, slipping on the wet concrete but managed to twist himself loose from the assailant's grip but wasn't quick enough. The blade of his enemy slid across a small portion of Layne's arm and left a bleeding wound.
    With his adrenaline through the roof and goal only to survive, Layne continued to run and barely felt the pain. Shaken and completely panicked, the boy slipped again but scrambled back to his feet, the soaked ground below ever trying to pull him down.

    “Stop runnin' ya freak! Da' hell did ye' get a knife from, eh!?” It felt like a nightmare, a crazed monster chasing the boy through a stormy darkness. Layne's fingers were clenched tightly around the replicated knife and almost dug into the rubber hilt as he ran, every breath leaving his lungs rapidly. “Oi'! Forgot that I 'ave a gun!?” While in chase, the robber raised the pistol and fired several pellets which did surprisingly little to slow the scared teenager. “What!? Imma kill you!” Filled with rage, the man picked up his pace and closed in, getting ever closer. There were others on the street now, all of them shocked at the sight but must've thought them a part of the riot.

    Most bystanders did nothing to help but luckily there were angels in the scarce crowd.
    Layne's energy was starting to fade, his legs giving in from fatigue more and more until he eventually came in contact with a small hole in the road, tripping down to his knees. “Got ye' now!” The chaser shouted and was just about to leap onto the boy before another man tackled him and delivered a strong punch to the face.
    The knife in Layne's hand vanished and he could barely keep concious. It didn't take long before an immense pain stung through his arm, hands and knees. He had scraped himself pretty bad after that fall but the wound in his arm would more than likely require stitches. It was nothing he was thinking of at the moment however.

    “Call an ambulance!” He heard a female voice exclaim just before he felt a set of hands carefully sheltering his, catching the impending fall of his upper body towards the hard ground beneath. It was clear that Layne was still alive and he wasn't about to kick the bucket anytime soon, but she made sure to stay close by. “You're safe now, you're alright.” Her voice was motherly, soothing. It was full of care and worry. Her careful hands examined the wound on Layne's arm, improvising some bandages by wrapping her scarf around it. “You're going to be fine.” Her voice was clearly heard, but Layne couldn't reply through the rapid breaths leaving his lungs. Was it truly over? He couldn't seem to hear the assailant's voice anymore. He got a pretty hard punch to the nose and it seemed to have knocked him out.

    “With the riot going on, they're sending ambulances down here either way. One of them is going to come and help.” Another voice added, a younger male.
    Layne closed his eyes, pulling his legs closer to his body as he balled up in the woman's embrace, tears now running freely.
     
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  17. Jackson Noble, tired after driving non-stop down from British Columbia, Canada; exhausted from the incessant worries and concerns for his city, for his aunt, that had plagued his mind during the traveling; annoyed by the idiocy on the local radio station about riots at the city hall, now stood outside the car that he had 'borrowed' from his school's facilities staring at a blockade of motorbikes and their leather-clad riders. And he was angry. He was familiar with the group that barred his entrance into the city, or, at least, a previous incarnation. The Highway Men, a typical biker gang who were an unofficial welcome wagon for new visitors of Crescent City, got their kicks by hijacking the automobiles of unsuspecting tourists and selling them before the crimes could be traced back to the gang. Back when Jackson had lived in the city as a child, he had heard many stories about the bikers and how they would intimidate the frightened drivers into giving up their vehicles without any bloodshed. Apparently, though, things had changed in his absence as the men he now stared down were brandishing knives, handguns, and even a shotgun.

    The rain drenched his clothing and plastered Jackson's hair to his forehead. He looked at each of the six men on their bikes who glared at him menacingly, and noted the weapons each carried. He tried to remain calm despite the emotions swirling around inside him, primarily anger. How dare these common street thugs, these scum, try to profit from the disaster their city faced. Even while good, innocent people were struggling, dying; while the city literally burned, these pieces of shit were attempting to steal, terrorize, and potentially even kill. It disgusted the young man to no end. This was not how Jackson's father would have wanted to see the city he loved so much.

    One of the men dismounted his bike and took several steps towards Jackson. He was bald, head likely shaven, tall, and well-muscled as was evidenced by the bulging arms his vest did nothing to conceal. A tattoo of a three-headed, snarling dog decorated his right bicep, and he held a short but heavy chain in his left hand. It was all clearly meant to intimidate, including the way the man kept wrapping the chain around his fist as he stalked towards his intended prey, but Jackson was not impressed. The obvious leader of the pack opened his mouth to bellow out a no-doubt fearsome command, but Jackson beat him to the punch.

    "You're in my way." He called out just loud enough to be heard over the rain pounding against the asphalt.

    The Cerberus-tattooed man stopped in mid-stride, clearly unprepared for his victim to say such a thing. He forced a laugh, "I think you're confused." His voice was loud, gravelly. Yet another intended intimidation technique.

    "See, this here is my road. And to drive through my road there's a price. A toll." He gestured towards the car Jackson had used, and then the keys in Jackson's left hand. "I think your car will do nicely, don't you agree?" To emphasize his point one of his crew racked the slide on the 12-gauge shotgun.

    "You're wasting my time."

    This time the man's laugh was genuine, entirely amused by the apparently crazy kid in front of him. "Do you not get the situation here, boy? Give us your fucking car, or I'll have Ray put a goddamned bullet in your stupid head."

    As the biker spoke, his words growing louder and less controlled with his rising anger, Jackson's right hand was inconspicuously hanging down by his side, rotating counter-clockwise. "You're pathetic."

    The crew leader couldn't believe what he had heard. This insolent fool, this newcomer in his territory, had the audacity to insult him. "Excuse me? Are you fucking retarded? Do you have a death wish, you dumb motherfucker! I'm going to gut you like a fucking pig and leave you to die here in the mud, you get me!" His questions had turned into furious shouting. The only reason he hadn't already ordered his men to shoot was because he wanted to see the driver panic as he finally realized the situation he had gotten himself into.

    "You are a pathetic, worthless piece of shit polluting Crescent City. My city. It is being destroyed from the inside out, and instead of helping fix it you're adding to the problem." He stared directly into the eyes of the tattooed man only a dozen feet away as he spat out his words in disgust. Jackson's entire right arm was moving in a small circle now, and his left gripped the car key tightly.

    "You're spitting on this city, and by doing so you're spitting on my father's memory. And I won't stand for that. My father loved this city, and I'll be damned if I let it go to ruin."

    The man had finally had enough, turning around to face the rest of his crew he gave the order. "Shoot this fucking retard alre-"

    His voice cut out as a powerful blast of wind caught him in the back and thrust him into two of the motorcycles, knocking down one of the men holding a handgun. Before the rest could react to this surprising turn of events, Jackson had leaped into the sky, assisted by an upward rush of air, and kicked his leg down in an arc, a focused gust sweeping out to knock away the weapons each of the gang members still held pointed at where he had been standing. Landing lightly behind the bikers, Jackson thrust his right arm out expelling another gust of wind that caught the bikes, toppling them and their riders over.

    The tattooed man picked himself up off the wet road, cursing and confused. He scrambled for one of the handguns scattered across the ground, managing to grab at one. "I'll kill you! I'll fucking murder you!" The man's shouts of obscenities were cut off by screams of pain as a car key rocketed into the back of his hand, having been propelled by a powerful burst of air, and embedded itself between his knuckles.

    Ignoring the screaming, Jackson began waving his arms in a circle, gathering one final powerful gale. The bikers he had knocked over were pulling themselves to their feet, motivated by the screaming of their leader. One had already managed to pick up his large knife and was moving towards Jackson menacingly. Or, attempted to, before the hyperhuman released the blast of wind he had been building up and manipulating, increasing the density of the air to allow for a much harder impact. The result was six Highway Men gang members knocked unconscious, laying in the middle of the road surrounded by what were, very likely, illegal firearms.

    He quickly pillaged the pockets of the leader's vest and used the man's cellphone to call 911 and report an ongoing hijacking at his location. That, Jackson thought, would ensure they got arrested once the cops managed to arrive and find them. He left the car key in the man's hand, figuring the authorities once they got there, would eventually be able to return the vehicle to his school, and then he turned his attention towards the city.

    Originally, as he was driving and listening to the channel 11 news reports, Jackson had intended to head towards city hall to assist the police in breaking up the riots, but while he was in the air earlier he had noticed something far more pressing and dangerous. What seemed like a very large fire had broken out in the Kilbride power district, and Jackson knew very well how disastrous that was given the nuclear power plant located there. If the fire were to reach the facility there wouldn't be much of a city left for Jackson to save. With his time already having been wasted enough, Jackson launched himself into the air and took off at a high-speed towards the blaze.
     
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  18. | The morning after the night before... |

    Four days had been optimistic, but with the increasingly cold weather Taro had needed to eat more than he'd liked to have rationed himself to stay warmer and more functional. Right now, he was watching the Sun come up over the horizon, even though it remained hidden behind thunderous, pouring clouds. What little light there was crept along the ground, sweeping across the city and climbing the mountain. The light was further filtered by the ferns that lined the entrance to the small cave that Taro had claimed as shelter, and he stood up and padded across the stoney ground to gaze out. Still raining.

    Such endless rain this planet had. Taro thought of his home, the enveloping, comforting warmth of its twin stars, so close to it, as opposed to the distant sun of this rock. There was rain during the Winters, when the planet grew dark in its night, but even that was warm, unable to escape the heat that defined Taro's homeworld. This planet was all wetness and cold, and unsuited to Taro.

    He was shook out of homesickness by the other wildlife of the mountain waking in the dull morning light. Their minds, feral and unrefined, were pinpricks on his psyche, easily tapped and easily blocked, but they were Taro's only source of information on his new home, and he'd kept listening. Today...today, there was unease. Unease about the rain. Suddenly, Taro was assaulted by feelings of fear and anxiety, memories of mudslides and a destroyed habitat playing like prophetic visions, imprinted upon his mind. He reeled, growling and whimpering as he walked backwards further into his cave, blocking out the sources of the transmissions one-by-one. Slowly, his mind grew quiet, and only the low murmur of the city below remained, background noise that Taro had learned to stay away from.

    The wildlife was scared. Uneasy. Rain like this had been seen before and it had been a great and terrible destruction of house and home. Immediately Taro knew this rainfall was not natural, and there was a quick combination of relief and trepidation. He was glad to know that such disagreeable weather was not, in fact, the norm - but then that meant something was causing this rain. And with the memories of the wildlife still fresh in his mind, Taro hope that whatever it was wasn't doing so maliciously. As unlikely as that was. Either way, Taro felt threatened. If this rain continued, the entire mountainside would come down, and wash Taro's territory away with it - and he'd seen how the dominant species of the planet hunted. He wouldn't last. The mountain was his refuge - and this rain threatened to bring it down. Taro needed to investigate, or face losing his home and his life.

    There was only so much information he could glean from the minds of the animals that shared the mountainside with him - but below the mountain, the humans congregated in a giant settlement, the likes of which Taro had never dreamed to exist. The white noise of uncensored psychic broadcasts was felt in the back of his mind even now, but that white noise would know more, feel more, suspect more, than any of the wildlife up here. As painful and muddled as it might be, Taro needed to descend the mountainside and feel through the psychic waves for information. It was that, or sit in his cave until the rain drowned him or washed him away.

    It was a close decision, but he eventually ended up outside, carefully padding down toward the city that waited below.
     
    #18 Roman, Dec 19, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 19, 2014
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  19. Rufua McClain, born as Roofworus Wrein of the distant world Lamina12, had a problem. Not only were times rough. He'd been stranded on a strange alien world with seemingly little hope of returning, he'd exacted his vengeance years ago and fulfilled his purpose, and he'd been stuck raising the son of his father's killer. But worst of all, human stupidity was close to wiping out the sole highlight of his being on the Blue Planet. If he couldn't enjoy the Fringe marathon, he doubted that he'd be willing to forgive whoever was to blame for the disaster.

    "Fine, fine! Keep your trash can. If you really want that more than a city to live in, fine by me!" By now, word had gotten around that something was stealing all the area's dumpsters, and the people weren't happy about it. There was quite some argument over what it was, but the common consensus was that it must've been some troll in a fox costume, like a sports mascot or something of the like. But everyone could agree on one thing.

    There is a serious deficit of dumpsters near The Docks. Running around, ravaging the alleyways, Rufus was distraught. He'd led Shikacha to over sixty separate dumpsters, and at least seven clusters of short silver trash cans. He conceded to accept that he was not going to be allowed to take anymore. His quest to enjoy the planet's greatest work of art seemed fated for failure, until he ran out to the very edge of the pier. Then he realized exactly what other, more obvious resources were at his disposal.

    After seeing a tanker truck charge down a nearby roadway, he felt a maddeningly bright lightbulb burst to life within his brain. Running out on a soaked wooden deck, supported by a series of logs that held the path upright, he thundered down the way, each footstep throwing him forward. He passed several workers wheeling oil drums off of a giant freighter towards a juggernaut truck waiting for them on the nearest road.

    Communicating via radio transmission, he commanded his follower, "No more bins. It's time to go big or go home." Reaching a ramp that led the workers down from the ship, he gave a follow-up detail, "Zero in on my locale ASAP."

    There were a couple dozen men wheeling the drums down and trudging up towards the loading bay. All of them were large, each wearing a black and blue uniform, dragging an empty dolly. But none of them were paying attention to the alien joining their company for a moment. As soon as he passed one of them heading back to the ship, he swung his step to the right and shunted the man into the cold waters beside the deck. The splash was distant and hushed by the constant barrage of droplets blasting into the ground and slapping the surface of the water, so no one noticed. So he did it again, preferring to keep the native sentients out of harm's way.

    He kept bumping them off the deck, taking them from behind, until he reached the top of the ramp they'd been heading down. A hail of explitive words welcomed him aboard, and all the approaching workers seemed eager to catch up with him. So he slipped out his laser projector. Taking his left hand to the knob, he cranked the dial to the rightmost extreme and took aim, pulling the trigger to direct an incinerating beam of photons that disconnected the ramp from the ship. Spotting a ladder mounted on the side of the ship, he leapt off the collapsing ramp, activating the propulsion of his boots, and rocketing up to the ladder before scurrying up to the deck.

    "Present, boss," the astrological pilot announced before Roofworus caught a glimpse of him overhead. He ran to each end of the freighter, a painfully long distance to cross, and tapped a segment on his bracelet, setting a pair of beacons to The Bloodhound.

    "Shik, place the hooks on these two points, and drop the anchor on the center of the ship." The objective was clear, to sink the freighter and use it as a scoop for the fire. "But first thing's first, dump all these oil drums into the bay. There is no way these can possibly protect the airwaves. Actually, we may as well set fire to them here and now, if only we had the time..

    As Rufus spoke, the squirrel plunged the anchor onto the deck of the ship. "Hold on tight." The anchor wasn't very large, but it may as well have been the size of a supercluster, its density could be likened to that of the sun's surface. The impact turned the deck of the ship into a trampoline, with a shockwave that sent Rufus flailing up above any building in sight. With a little help from his rocket boots, he directed his acension up next to the entrance to The Bloodhound, wildly groping for the door before catching hold and stepping into the cockpit, just in time for Skikacha to tip the ship.

    The rusty-red drums of oil rolled out of the ship, spilling like grains of sand off a beach towel, along with a surprising amount of workers. By reeling in the behemoth with the hooks of the spacecraft, they shook the boat like a wet dog. Then, they let it sink all the way below the surface, consumed altogether. But it emerged, jerking out of the water like a fighting bull into an arena.

    "All systems go, take this thing to the plant. We're going to drown that fire." Dynamically pointing in the direction of the facility, Rufus barked athe order before they heaved the ship out of the water. For the first time since they'd been to the planet, they actually felt the ship begin to struggle. The combination of the atmospheric environment to fight with and the sheer mass of the carrier must've been murder on the fuel cores. But, the spacecraft won out, overcoming the pull of gravity to raise the ship and pull it along. As it was carried through the air, it sprung countless minor leaks, intensifying the rain as it eclipsed the skies of Crescent City, their speed was limited to the gruelingly average pace of a human jet, but they arrived at their destination soon enough.

    "Well, whattaya know? There may actually be some hope for these people, yet." Spotting an armada of gathered citizens who'd volunteered as firefighters, Rufus actually felt impressed. "I haven't seen this many people gathered together to help eachother since I left home. I guess they're not all lazy sleezebags after all." A decent person was rare on this planet, Rufus had found, but he'd only found someone he admired thus far on human television.

    They rolled into view of the humans, who shouted and panicked, unsure of what to do. Many scattered immediately, others were frozen in sight, but some brave souls kept working at putting the fire out. Though they were nowhere near complete, they'd made much more progress than expected. Out of curtousy for the natives, Shikacha hovered the freighter over the edge of the lake of fire furthest from any humans. And he waited for orders.

    "Is now a good time," Shikacha asked Rufus, anxiously expecting an affirmative.

    "Shik," Rufus spread his lips with a content grin "there has never been a better time."

    At once, they tipped the boat, dumping its contents across the field. It was like dropping a bomb into a cardboard box. A tide washed out, rolling away from its origin and flooding the lower portion of the field, clearing and cutting the majority of the fire down to size. An upward climb on the hill led to the majority of the gathered humans, and it kept them from drowning. Although there was still a risk of the plant being burnt, Rufus was, for once, confident in the humans, and his belief that they could handle it.

    "Let's get out of here," he said, before Shikacha gently lowered the stolen boat, laying it down in the drenched field. Then, they turned the cloak on, and flew back to their apartment.
     
  20. S
    creams changed to cheers as the People’s Fire Brigade watched the alien craft dump a literal ‘boat load’ of water onto the raging flames. These cheers were short lived however as the flames jumped back to life, the original source growing hotter than before as the flames reached even higher than before. The fumes hissed through the air, growing thicker and denser as the steam mixed in with the toxins creating a smog over the area. Running forward, Greg O’Connor flailed his arms at the men with the fire-trucks and hoses. His voice going hoarse as fumes entered his throat and he strained his vocal chords to yell above the inferno.

    “That was a chemical warehouse! You can’t fight this fire with water!” He hollered, pushing his voice as loud as it would go before another explosion suddenly went off to his right. Greg O’Connor let out his last breath before becoming enveloped by the blaze, the shockwave engulfing his body never to be seen again. Their celebration short lived, the People’s Fire Brigade moved quickly to find another solution to the raging fire that now towered above most of Kilbride.
     
    #20 Lord Wraith, Dec 19, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 19, 2014
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