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Multiple Settings Cyber-Knights- A Post Apocalyptic Sci-Fi Fantasy



Chaos Being with a chip on his shoulder
<"Omega Level Threat with a heart of gold">
{Middle Zeta Operations tower}

A man wearing a green Military suit stood over looking the city below from his high tower. He was an older man with salt and pepper hair and a thick mustache. He was tall and well built with broad shoulders and beefy hands. His eyes where a stark silver, with a pricing gaze. His uniform was freshly pressed and highly decorated. He took a long drag from a rolled cigarette as the door too his office opened. A tall, slender women with her red hair tied back into a bun entered. She was holding a clip board close too her chest and her green eyes darted from the clipboard too the man.

“Sir, we have an issue.” He voice was panicked, fear seeping out of her like a festering wound. The man sighed, putting out his cigarette on his desk as he tuned from the window. His voice was more felt than heard, an abrasive bass that beats in ones chest and head. “What is it Miss Kane?” He asked with a brow raised. Seeing her panicked expression had him thinking the worst. Miss Kane walked over to him and handed over the clipboard. A blurry picture of a humanoid with a ring made of metal and technology floating behind it and a large gathering of cyber-beast around it. He set down the picture and hit a button on his desk.

Send Sargent May-filed to go grab McCormick and his cleaners, we have a problem on are hands, also call in The Dead heads.” Before a response could be made he grabbed his hat off the desk and placed it on his head. Miss Kane looked in shock for a moment and asked sheepishly. “General Orville, sir why the Dead Heads?” Orville smirked over his shoulder as he stormed passed her and down the hall. His voice boomed as he tuned the corner. “Because if this is what I think it is, we might need more than just Cyber-Knights. I'll be in conference room four, have Michael send everyone there and put up the sound damping field.”


{East Zeta: McCormick Residents}

McCormick sat looking over a his new motorcycle. It was a custom built hybrid hover bike with a ground mode. It was a beautiful shimmering black with a twin turbine engine and was compatible with a solar fusion pack, making it simple to recharge with one of his palm orbs. A sharp ringing noise caught his attention as he was making sure that all the specs where correct on his bike, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin metal bar and hit a button on it. A screen made of energy split the bar as he spoke. “Whats up May-filed?” His voice was low and gravely but not unpleasant as he spoke.

A stern voice came over the communications device. “ Void, we need you at the OT Asap. Orville has a mission debriefing for you and your team. Not sure on the details and this seems to be a top level threat so make it snappy.” The line went dead and Vance hit another button on the back of his com device sending out an alert to his team.

He headed into his house and grabbed his jacket and wallet from the rack by his door. “Hey Jess, have too go to work.” He yelled as he changed out his shoes for combat boots. A women with silver hair and vibrant yellow eyes darted out from the living room. She was short at about 5'3 and her skin was covered in green pathways. She, like him was a cyber-knight and was also his girlfriend of about three years. “Be careful Vance, come back in one piece!” She wrapped her arms around him and they kissed.

Don't worry about me love, you know I can handle myself!” He chuckled as he headed out the door.

He got on his new bike and started her up, she roared with furry as he hit the switch for the hover mode. The wheels split and parted, flipping up on either side. A wave of energy sent the bike forward and up as Vance sped off toward the operations tower.

<"I am the last thing you will ever see!">
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Magnificently Mellow
A heavily armored personnel carrier cruises through the R&D district. From the outside nothing inside can be seen or heard. Inside, the sweet sonorous thunder of metal blares at a volume that would do irreversible ear damage to the average person before their insides are liquified by the bass. The drums are the product of the holy union of a chorus of tiger purrs and bursts of automatic gunfire. These pulsing drums are accompanied by a team of guitars whose sounds were summoned straight from the depths of hell where only devils know how to shred so sinisterly.

Kirby on the other hand lightly bobs his head and taps on the steering wheel as if he were listening to some folksy tune during a Sunday drive. With a slight smile on his face, he turns the corner, and the voice of a man who has only known pain in his life begins to growl. Kirby checks on the readings of the newly installed surveillance suite, this was a perfect time to test it out. The music is interrupted by an alert that perks Kirby up. He instructs the vehicle to bring up the message and blows a raspberry after he reads it. “Pfffbt…you see that Katabasis, time to take you back out into hell bud.” Kirby grips the steering wheel and steps on the gas.

As Katabasis, the strike vehicle thunders down the road inside the music picks up again. His words are drowned out by the music as he shouts, "FIELD TEST! WOO!" He navigates the city streets at high rates of speed. With his sensor suite up and running his chance of collisions and subsequent death and destruction of anyone not in a tank are reduced greatly. The chances are as close to 0 as you could get barring acts of god, if he still lives. Not only is this vehicle set up with almost every means of detection available to him it is also kitted out with detection countermeasures of its own. Kirby went for the best combination of defense and speed. He figures the knights inside are going to be better than anything you could mount to this battle wagon..."I Should mount one of these Knights to this Battle Wagon!!!"


Abort, Retry, Fail?
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Roleplay Type(s)
You should always exhale before loosing a round. It lowers heart rate, steadies the hands, and primes the body to land difficult shots. This advice, no doubt repeated since the dawn of projectiles themselves, repeated once more in Viktor's head as he prepared to launch a rock at a very impressively-sized rat. If he closed his eyes, he could almost smell the iron-laced sweat from the butt of a rifle against his cheek, hear the cacophony of laser rounds woven with the shouts, the shrieks, the screams of soldiers. He didn't dare blink as he let his breath go. Then, a second thereafter, the rock.

It hit its mark a little too well. Still not entirely used to his ever-increasing super-strength, Viktor launched the rock fast enough for it to get a speeding ticket on an autobahn. The rat didn't just die; its head was taken off in a single gruesome rip, and its body ricocheted off of the ground and bounced a few inches away from its original location. The rock itself continued to skip along the ground like water before slamming into the side of a long-abandoned storefront, finally finding rest with a loud clack. Despite the resounding success, he couldn't help but wince. Not just at the overkill he had just committed, but at the noise it had generated. He hadn't seen any CBs in the area, and he hadn't felt the slow energy increase they usually brought him, but no doubt one of them heard that. With a hustle in his step, he ran up to his quarry, scooped it up in one hand, and kept on running away from the storefront and into a nearby office complex where he had set up camp. The first floor was damp, overgrown with fungi and littered with stagnant puddles filled with who-knows-what. The second floor had previously caught fire, and the floor was littered with holes that allowed whatever was in those first floor waters to ascend. Hopefully, whatever that clack would attract wouldn't have the intelligence to check the third floor.

On that floor was a makeshift camp. A hole had been knocked through the ceiling, and directly under that hole laid a fire pit. A skewer made from the shrapnel of what was once a street sign laid beside an old stepstool, and several drained 9V batteries lay scattered around the site. The environment itself was unsettling to behold—even at night, an office was never this quiet. The buzz of fluorescent bulbs, the ticks and hums of a server always online, the ticking of a clock on the wall, all had fallen into the gaping void of silence. Breathing hard from his sprint, Viktor went to work adding ambiance of his own. He barricaded the stairwell behind him, then began to toss some pieces of a corkboard desk into the fire pit. Setting his quarry down for the time being, he took out a pocket knife and a ferro rod, then searched for some tinder. Most of the papers had long since biodegraded, returning to the earth that birthed them. However, there were some sheets left over in the filing cabinets, where the elements hadn't been so harsh. He picked a sheet out of one of these cabinets and looked it over. There were a lot of numbers belonging to matters unknown to him, but he recognized a few medical terms. This was once a health insurance firm, it seemed. A place where hopes came to die. He crumpled the paper into a ball and took it back to his pit.

Viktor tucked the wad of paper under the corkboard as though putting it to sleep. Then, he struck the ferro rod. One, two, three times did it. The scraps of the old world went up in flames, infusing the corkboard with their fury. He sat back on the stepstool and picked up the rat, skinning and gutting it as his thoughts finally caught back up with him. Memories of the old world flickered through his mind. His grandmother, spitfire she was, would always get upset at his father for not allowing his mom to carry on her family's rat dishes to the next generation. Viktor himself originally harbored some of this bitterness as well, but he understood why nowadays. The garbage-swelled rats in the cities were practically junk meat compared to the ones feasting off of grain and fruit in the countryside, and neither could compare to the rice-field rats from his grandmother's homeland. That must have been why his mom went along with his father's repulsion. Still, when he visited his grandparents in the countryside, away from his father's watchful eyes, he still got to eat rat. His grandmother could've passed for a five star chef in this regard. He was glad that she died before all of this nanite nonsense happened. She got to rest in peace. The same couldn't be said for the predators roaming the streets below.

Speaking of cities, Viktor could faintly hear the noise levels from the nearby walled city rise. He felt his lip curl without conscious input, the disgust he felt towards it having turned into a reflex. Zeta. It didn't take a genius to decipher that there must have been more. Even without higher education, he knew that zeta was the final letter in the Greek alphabet. One final holdout. Whether or not its siblings still functioned, it hung on like a stubborn, engorged tick, refusing to fall even after being scraped and burned. They kept the CB activity in the area down a bit and aided survivors, that was the most he could credit them with. Beyond that, they were a predatory pack of dogs, scraping together what desperate loyalty they could attract and turning men into cannon fodder for the sake of trying to preserve—no, revive—a rotten corpse. Why couldn't they just accept that this nation was dead? It didn't take him long, and he had only ripped his collar off after recently waking up from a coma. He hadn't witnessed the apocalypse unfold, but he knew it was long overdue. His heart ached for the innocent people caught in the crossfire, but not the nation that had housed him. He skewered the rat, maybe a bit more roughly than necessary, and half-mindedly began to rotate it over what was now a healthy fire. He stared out of a broken window across the room. Nothing but another set of broken windows met his eyes, but with enough focus, he could hear the distant howls of the city. Nothing with clarity, just a muffled mash of sounds. He wondered why he even tried keeping his noise levels down. The place must have been a CB magnet, and maybe that was the point. He had seen some freaks come out of that place, so he supposed they thought they could handle whatever hell they drew in. The ruins survivors caught in the path of those CBs, on the other hand, had much more variable degrees of luck. Did they never consider that? Or were they just arrogant enough to think that nothing stronger than them existed in this world? That they could operate like this forever? How American of them, regardless.

The scent of charred meat snapped Viktor back to reality, and he realized his hunger with a sudden rush of salivation. God, he needed this. He pulled it back and snapped off the tail, munching on it with barely-held restraint as he waited for the rest of the meat to cool a bit. It was a shame he'd run out of salt a few days prior, but he was also glad for the chance to even find seasonings in the bones of this world. Thoughts of past, present, and future faded from his mind as he allowed himself to enjoy his hunt, cooked a little better than last time. This was the essence of his worldly concerns these days. Staying alive, enjoying what little life he might have left, and improving on his own skills. Maybe, if the opportunity came, he would pass some of these skills to the others he found wandering before they were consumed either by the CBs or Zeta. But that didn't matter right now. The meat had cooled, and it was time to put worries aside.

Away from the watchful eyes of the world, he ate rat.


Chaos Being with a chip on his shoulder
<"Omega Level Threat with a heart of gold">
{Middle Zeta Operations tower: Conference room 4}

General Oliver set in a chair in the conference room, his hands clenched together as he waited for McCormick and his crew. The situation was at hand was something he had been dreading for months after Dr. Roland had left the city with highly top secret research material. He hoped that this wasn't a result of his own push for advanced weapons to use against the Cyber-beast and to stop the deaths of countless Cyber-knights that have yet to awaken. As he brooded over hid thoughts the door to the room opened and in stepped the leader of the Dead-Heads, Alex York. He was a tall man, his eyes ringed with heavy dark circles and vivid blue, almost glowing. His hair was short and black and his nose crooked. He sported a well groomed beard and wore a fully black tactical suit with his cybernetic arms exposed. "You rang Oliver?" His voice was raspy and you could tell his vocal cords had been damaged at some point.

Oliver looked him over and cleared his throat. "
Yes, go ahead and sit down we are waiting on McCormick and his people." The General took a long drag from and freshly lit cigarette.

Alex set down in the furthest chair, putting his feet up on the table as the door opened again, in walking Vance who's eyes darted toward Alex in grim surprise. "Well shit, I thought you were still in northern Ireland helping evacuate Kappa." Vance set down on the left of the table, away from both Oliver and Alex. Vance wasn't really a fan of either of these guys but he respected both. Alex leaned forward taking his feet off the table and his eyes focused on Vance. "Well McCormick if you must know, Kappa was a burned too the ground by the time we got there. It looked like a bloodbath and most of the people had been ripped to pieces." Oliver slammed his hand on the table grabbing both men's attention.

"This is not the time to for whatever this is." He took a long drag, smoke bellowing out of his mouth and nose. "As soon as the rest of your team gets here McCormick I'll debrief you all, but until then get comfortable." The two soldiers looked at each other as Vance grabbing out his communicator and sending out an alert for the others too hurry.

<"I am the last thing you will ever see!">


Magnificently Mellow
The thunder of Knight Carrier Katabasis dies down as it enters the underground parking of the operations tower. Turning down the music and shutting down the systems Kirby unstraps himself from the driver's seat. Before he can get up there is the alert of another message. Letting out a laugh he sends back two words "I've Arrived." Standing up Kirby puts on a bulky pair of headphones and checks the message from Michael. Conference room four. Leaning against a wall of the elevator Kirby lets out a loud yawn and wipes his eyes. With a ding, the elevator doors open.

Before long he is in front of the conference room. Reaching out to knock his hands stop short. Even from out here he can feel it, the sound dampening field. Kirby straightens his back standing tall and knocks twice before entering. Scanning the room his eyes linger on York a beat too long before he meets the eyes of McCormick. Kirby then nods to the General and finds a seat. With a few swift taps under the table, he sends a message to McCormick.

"Check out these specs. She's finally cleared for duty. I've dubbed her Katabasis. :grinningteeth::coolshades::hearteyes:"


Tucker of Legendary Status

"GET LOST" Mao says loudly while 2 cyber beasts proceeded to be cut in half by his blade with one quick horizontal slash. He is then quickly surrounded by a group of 4 cyber-beasts which observe him while slowly trying to close in. Annoyed with the behavior but used to it he reaches for his large hand-cannon with his mutated arm and focuses his energy on the cylinder until a violet glow starts to form on the barrel. Two of the beasts jump at him and he slides to the right shooting the closest one to him and kicks the one who follows behind while firing a shot to hit it right between the eyes. Without hesitation he turns around and grabs one of the last beasts who was waiting to sneak attack him with a projection of his arm while side stepping the final cyber-beast sneak attack and putting Blue Rose to the back of it’s head and squeezing out a “Too slow” before turning it’s head into mush with the squeeze of the trigger. He then looks at the cyber-beast he was holding up in the air struggling desperately to get free from the large hand that seemed to come out of nowhere before being viciously slammed into the ground with a loud crack and crunch to follow . “Gonna burn my food wasting my time.” he sighs while throwing the bodies in a pile before walking to a opening in the collapsed floor above him. He then walks up to a door that leads to a stairwell and when he enters he sees that he has about a good 30ish stories to clear. He then hops on top of the railing in front of him while looking up and locking his vision on a railing about 5 stories higher than him and slings his arm towards it like he’s throwing out candy. He actually sends a projection of his mutated arm out to grab the railing and essentially slingshot him upwards to about 8 stories higher than what he originally was. He was too impatient and skilled too stop and quickly threw his arm out again repeating the process till he reached the top at what he believes is 40 stories. The top floor was just a super nice condo that Mao decided to stay in ever since he got into the destroyed city. The condo was actually in decent condition too as there wasn’t any huge holes in it that exposes it to the outside elements and even a bathroom with a working toilet. He quickly goes and sits in the kitchen area on a foldable chair while he grabs a somewhat warm hot pocket he heated up by creating a small fire on the island in the kitchen. He enjoys the warmth of the meal until he comes upon a cold corner which aggravates him as he gets up to spark up a fire again. He grabs his sword and places it in the middle of the island where a bunch of flammable materials where grouped together before revving his sword and immediately putting the pile into flames. He sets the half eaten hot pocket above the flames with a metal pan he hangs from the lights above the island and waits about a minute before taking it down and waiting a few seconds before quickly picking up the now slightly oozing hot pocket. After finishing his first part of breakfast he goes into the bathroom and grabs a bag of apples he keeps in a frozen tub of ice before going back to the stairwell to go through a small opening in the ceiling leading to the roof which he sits at the highest point looking at the walled city some miles out from him while crunching on the ice cold apple. “My first Walled City after a year….it seems a bit underwhelming” he said honestly before quietly laughing at his words “Nonetheless it only takes a glance to tell it’s better than the hell out here” he sat quietly looking towards the city knowing that tomorrow will be the day he arrives but for now today is his to play even though he has nothing to do except hunt cyber-beasts, clean his weapons, and do whatever he can to improve.

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