Futuristic Elizia

GinjaGen · Oct 5, 2014

"Fast works for me." Darya responded, grinning at the two men. She had lived on the sea for her whole life, which was famous for being unpredictable. Because of this she was completely capable and comfortable with dealing with sudden plan changes. Plan changes certainly beat being thrown overboard by a giant wave, nearly drowning, and fighting off sharks while she waited for her good-for-nothing father to finally stop stalling and begrudgingly throw her a flotation device. That exact event had occurred on her fifteenth birthday. She'd gotten even, however. She'd "accidentally" pushed his second wife into the ocean a few days later when the woman had insulted her. Her father was much quicker with the flotation device, but this wife wasn't quite as good at fighting off sharks as Darya was. The woman had survived, as Darya had been sure she would, though missing a digits. The woman had learned not to insult her, and her father realized that not only was Darya hard to kill, but she was also quite good at getting even.

Darya took a sip of her drink and smiled as she was lost in that particular memory. It was quite obvious from the smell that it was a pretty strong drink, yet she appeared to drink it as easy as she would have water and didn't appear impaired at all.

She finally looked up, ready to talk business. She put her drink down, which indicated she was getting serious. She looked back and forth between the men in front of her as she talked. "I've got a wonderful ship picked out and all ready to go. She's small, fast, maneuvers well, and is practically silent. As you might have just seen, I just arraigned our trip with the owner." She said, waving towards the door that the men had dragged the oily man out. "Not bad for a few hours work, if i do say so." She said winking at Charlie.

She picked her drink back up and took another sip as she watched the two men in front of her for reactions to her information. Then she nodded at them. "You get the info you needed?"

Lumeneire · Oct 6, 2014

((I'm going to be unable to reply until friday so I will try and leave a nice long post tomorrow to keep you guys occupied until then. Make sure you all watch the ooc thread please, as I have kept asking, so I don't have to put this here. Hope you're having fun!))

Uncultured · Oct 7, 2014

Dex hunched over the small round table in his kitchen, the surface of the table was clean and lacked in damage but it was old and worn and the furnish that had once protected the wood surface had long since eroded, leaving the bare wood grain to fend for itself against the elements, like the table and like the rest of his small home his kitchen was bare aside from the basic essentials. Dex ran his hand over the old gunshot wounds on his left arm, the twisted contusions still felt off to him even after a couple years and he wondered to himself if they would ever seem normal as the glow of the florescent light that sat above him cascaded around his body in a somber white glow, contrasting greatly with his marose mood and the pitch black that lay on the other side of the small window that provided a viewpoint over the street from the back end of his small kitchen.

It was small but it was home for him and it had everything he needed. He didn't need long couches and large tables for guests or paltry token decorations to show off his artistic tastes, his walls were still bare white, the same color the apartment had when he had first moved in almost a decade ago. He saw no reason to change the look of his home, unlike manyvother he realized that one was not defined by personal fashion statements. Dex was both a simple decorator and a simple dresser, prefering jeans and a leather jacket to the elaborite outfits that many enforcers wore, his freedom of clothing choices one of the few bonus perks of being in homocide that he still enjoyed.

As he sat thinkingvover the dream and the night four years ago, Dex sat on one of two folding chairs he had in his home, one was in the kitchen with him and the other sat in the living room, the cold metal surface of the chair chilled his skin through his ribbed white tank top, it was a cold night and even though cold rarely effected him, he felt goosebumps rise on his skin, a mixture of uneasiness from his dream and the cold temperature of his apartment. The cold didnt bother him though, Dex was far too lost in thought to be phased by cold as he considered what to write and he sat with glassy eyes as he looked with a thousand yard stare into and through the brown liquid that sat within the bottle before him, thinking over the nightmare he had suffered through before waking at the sight of the girl's face. He never could make it past that part of the dream, no matter what, he woke when he saw her exposed and fleshy features and as a result of the traumatic thoughts and memories he had replayed in his mind, the mug that Dex used for his drinks had been well used during the time he had spent awake waiting for Winta to arrive. He had already drunk a third of the large bottle and he could feel the effects as he thought over the words he was about to commit to his journal. As he reached an interior consensus on the topics he would write about, he took another large sip of the whiskey, downing the equivalent of two shots of the liquor before putting his pen to the paper of his well worn journal.

Dex Kennedy – Entry 46

“Had dream of the thirteenth victim of Flayer. Eleven year old girl, skin peeled away from midsection while alive, bleeding to death slowly, drugs in system indicated that girl was paralyzed by intravenously injected drug, drug didn't numb pain though, girl was aware of it all. Skin had been cut in fine line from middle of scalp to crotch, following line of symmetry. Once at crotch, line split to middle inseam of legs down to sides of feet and front of toes. Skin then peeled back by killer along cut lines, mortician compared it to a winter jacket being opened along zipper. Once skin was peeled back, girl was nailed to wall using skin flaps as anchors for nails. Mortician said that girl was alive during process. Circle with dot in middle was drawn at base of hanging body in the girl's blood. I discovered body, saw peeled face, eyes, cheekbones, jaw, exposed to the open air, skin pulled back. Guts spilling from midsection, heart removed from cavity, ribs cracked and bent forward, broken into a mocking facade of human teeth. Face still haunts me today, nightmares cut off at same point every time, cannot bear to see face, numb to pain, numb to death, but the shade of the Flayer haunts me.

Winta contacted me, citing emergency, perhaps her promotion opportunities were infringed. Winta, career climber, smart, cunning, user of people, sycophant nature at times, cut throat nature at others, final read, survivor with a penchant for lying to get her way, will watch words with her, untrustworthy, none of them are. System is out to get me, all of them are out to get me. I'm a liability, one who is unafraid of rocking the boat, one who is unafraid of the paltry threats of the commanding officers. I'm one of a dying breed, too honest to make it to the high ranks and too honest to ever be removed from the force, too good as well, sixty percent clearance or higher for five years running, best in entire force last I checked. Winta is good too, different in methods but good at job, but gulf stands between me and woman, bad past, bad taste in mouth in her presence, like soap in mouth.

Waiting, drinking, writing, a repeating process that never ends, a circle, as if I have done this an infinite amount of times. How many times have I sat here in this moment, thinking these thoughts, writing these words. Universe is circle, we are dot in center looking out into repeating existence, a cage that traps us, we are in snow globe, watching the universe unfold around us. Universe created in big bang, expands to critical mass like elastic band, reaches critical mass, contracts back into singular point of super pressurized matter and energy before being released once more. Same variables as before, same constants, same equation, same results, life begins on earth in same way, same people are born at same times, same actions and decisions are made, same struggles are fought through or given into. How many times did the Flayer peel that poor girls skin back, how many more times will she die in the most painful way imaginable. Nothing ever ends, it only begins again.

Interesting thoughts are spurned by evil men, inception by enemy minds corrupt the inner sanctum of the pure and righteous, those who are weak feel self pity and cry on the shoulders of others, while men like myself stand, watching those who watch, protecting the weak from those who protect, and all the while I am chastised, ostracized, hated for my integrity. If only they saw existence through my eyes, instead of viewing the universe through the kaleidoscope that is life. They are narrow minded in their ambitions, as they claw for a better life, despite what they think they know, paradise is a state of mind, not a physical satisfaction, for humans always want more. We always overreach, Rome, Macedonia led by the Great Alexander, the United States, Great Britain, all overreach. It's in our nature so clearly physical success isnt the answer to happiness, perhaps there is merit to the Buddhist value that the elimination of wants leads to happiness.”

Dex's writing was interrupted by a knock on his door. It was Winta, it couldn't be anyone else, after all, he didn't get many visitors, he wasn't exactly the social type. He knew he looked like hell, he hadn't had a good nights sleep in almost a week, and while he did manage to grab a couple hours of sleep here and there, he couldn't remember the last time he had slept for more then three or four hours. He wasn't in the most appealing attire either, he wore a wife beater and a pair of workout shorts complimented by a pair of slippers. He honestly didn't care all that much though, he wasn't attempting to impress with his attire, and he hadn't furnished his house to impress either. His home was clean, but it was too bare for most people to accept as normal, it was the epitome of spartan. In the main room that greeted those who entered the apartment there was one folding chair in front of a small table that he used for food and drinks as he watch television on a small flat screen that he had posted up on the floor opposite of the table. On the wall next to the television set, a makeshift board of leads, suspects and brief notes had been tacked up to the wall, and on the floor in the corner of the room, a stack of crime psychology books sat, each one a depressing insight into the minds of the kinds of killers that Dex had to track down on a regular basis.

Before getting up to let the woman in he took another long swig of the liquor before slamming the bottle down on the table, wincing as the bitter fluid entered his empty stomach. He felt the effects of the alcohol he had pounded into his body as he got up from the small table in his kitchen and although he was excellent at hiding his drunkenness, he knew Winta would immediately pick up on his intoxication. She was a reader of people, almost as good as Dex was himself, and she would see it in his eyes even if his body seemed as sober as a Sufi wise man. Dex made his way to the door and rapidly unlocked the two bolt locks and chain that protected his home from intruders, and within a couple seconds he stood before the woman.

Dex didn't say anything to the woman as far as greetings went, as she stood before him he quietly walked back into the kitchen, retrieving the chair he had been sitting on beforehand, before waking back into the living room, placing the chair back down in front of the small and plain wood table. “You gonna come in?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

WinterPeach · Oct 7, 2014

Metod fiddled with his fingers while his hands were behind his back, waiting for the robot before him to respond. He wondered if this creature truly could have a streak of AI hidden within. There were some people who would never believe that sort of thing could never happen, that robots were incapable of developing human traits, like emotion. But what the scientist saw before his eyes was contrary to that opinion. It seemed like his conversation partner had displayed an emotion close to apprehension in his facial structure.

‘Come on…say yes!’ Metod found himself mentally trying to egg the robot on. Once he thought more about it, he had to admit that it would be a rather strange situation of he was in the robot’s shoes, but it appeared that both of them realized that neither had another option than to work together. After another few moments of deep thought, the robot came around and agreed to be examined and fixed by Metod. “It is no problem! To be honest, I would have loved to see your circuitry even if you were not having technical difficulties.”, the scientist replied only to realize how invasive that last sentence sounded. “I, uh…I am sorry, I didn’t mean it like that! Please, forgive me, I am rather curious about robotics and biomechanics, as you can see.”. Metod casually gestured to his mechanical left arm, and gave the robot a soft but nervous smile. ‘I really hope I didn’t shoot myself in the foot here. It would be unfortunate to start off on the wrong foot.’ Metod mused before continuing his side of the conversation.

“Well, I suppose we should be headed off to my abode, right? Luckily it’s just a short drive away.” Metod offhandedly spoke as he opened up a panel on his left arm and hailed a 2-person cab to dive them to his apartment. One arrived within a handful of moments and the two hopped inside. Although the ride wouldn’t take too long, Metod mentally admitted that he hated awkward silences and tried to strike up a conversation with his robot acquaintance. “So, uh…I don’t think I ever caught your name. I am Metod Przemysław IV, but please, just call me Metod. I do not feel the need to add any formalities to my name.” he let out a small chuckle as he held out his right hand for the robot to shake.

Lumeneire · Oct 7, 2014

Winta tried to stifle back a grimace as Dex opened the door. She was greeted with the stink of putrid alcohol and stale sweat. Bile rose into her mouth but she bit back on it, forcibly trying to swallow without showing how disgusted she truly was. She had been in places like this before back when she was undercover, but never had she seen an upstanding citizen choose to live in such squalor. With the burning vomit now sinking back down into her gut, she allowed herself to survey the sight before her. The man was dressed very casually but she had prepared herself for that. It was the middle of the night and she had forced her company on him, she did not expect him to put in any effort on her behalf. However, she was slightly concerned about the crusting stains on his shorts. She could not tell what they were exactly and she had absolutely no desire to investigate further. She dared to step into the dingy apartment and cringed as her boot crunched in something on the floor. Her mind raced through the possibilities of what it could have been, possibly a cockroach she had snuffed the life from, a molding crisp left to wither into dust, or maybe even the remains of a takeaway meal, she chose again not to investigate further and stepped on ahead. Whilst stood in the center of the main room, she had a chance to glance at the entirety of her surroundings. She had never been in his home before, even their brief romantic encounter had happened in a slightly cleanlier place than this and she thanked the stars that she had insisted on a motel room that night, rather than accepting his invite back here, she had no idea what diseases she could have contracted.

Her eyes first glanced over the research pasted to one of the walls. She could see newspaper clipping, pieces of string stretching from one destination on a map to a forlorn face on the other end. She had seen investigation boards like this before, bu never so unorganised and made from wasteful materials. It seemed Dex refused to embrace the technological aspects of Elizia and chose instead to use old fashioned techniques, as opposed to digital boards and screen maps. Once she was able to tear her gaze from the craziness pinned to the wall, she noticed how minimal the room was decorated. A single small table with two rusting chairs adorned the plain floors and Winta felt a moment of pity wash over her. She wished that the man took more pride in his life and appearance but it was not her place to comment. Dex was one of the best investigators on the force and if concentrating solely on his work, instead of his own needs is what made him so driven on his tasks, then who was she to judge? The smell wafted up through her nose again, but this time, she barely made any notable signs she had registered it. She was reasonably used to stale and molding stenches and it was impolite to show distaste in another mans home. As she took another quick glance around, her gaze settled on Dex himself. She tried not to stare at the stains on his shorts and instead looked at his tired face. At first, she barely recognised him, it seemed in the years they had briefly known each other, his appearance had slipped dramatically and his once handsome face was now contorted with regret and misery. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheek twitched ever so slightly from uncomfortableness. It was a fraction of a movement others would not have been aware of, including the man himself and it once again proved how adept Winta was at reading body language. She realised that she hadn't spoken since she had entered his room and now realised she could have been the source of unease.

"You're drunk." She casually stated as she looked around the hollow shell of a room again. "And this place needs cleaning. You're gonna make yourself ill." She coughed in her throat, not sure of how to proceed in the conversation and chose to sit in one of the two chairs resting beside the table. Maybe the words would come easier if they were sat more comfortably and able to read each others faces rather than their awkward body language. She gestured for him to sit in the other seat and closed her eyes as she rested her behind on the cold chair. She was terrified of what she might sit on and pulled her coat tighter around her to protect her clothes from the disgusting surroundings. "I'm sorry to message you in the middle of the night Dex. But by the looks of you, I'd say you haven't been sleeping too well anyway. Maybe a small task to keep your mind off of your current obsession might help you rest easy for a few nights." She nudged her head in the direction of the sporadic board as she spoke and then tried to sit as casually as she could muster, without showing how embarrassed she was to be there. "You're still one of the best on the force I hear and you don't mind getting your hands dirty either." She thought about what she had said and realized it may have sounded dodgy, knowing how much Dex hated the system and the corrupt, she decided to reword what she had spoken. "By dirty, I mean doing what you can to get the truth and not afraid to venture to the darker parts of town." Satisfied with her explanation, she sat up straight and tried to muster a smile. "Now I'm not gonna pretend we're friends or even that you like me, because I know you don't. You think I'm a sycophant and I heard that straight from my superior, after your written debriefing with that undercover situation we were in. I am not who you think I am but frankly, I don't care what you think of me personally. I know you know I'm good at the job and thats what matters." Her nails scraped at the edge of the off colour table and pieces of brittle rust flaked onto the floor. She retracted her hand, realising that damaging his minimal amount of property might not be the best way to warrant help. "I've had a really crappy night and honestly, I just want to work. So whatever has happened between us, I want to forget and just be professional." She stared him hard in the face and flared her nostrils as anger twinged in her neck, from the bad conversation she had suffered through with Rodrick.

"If you help me out with a little information, I'll give you a case to work on. It's one I know you won't refuse because it involves corruption in the government." She beamed smugly knowing that the taster of information was sure to wet his appetite. If it didn't, he was more of a changed man than she could have ever anticipated and nothing she now said would encourage him to help her.

"I need to know what you know about Ghost. I know his name has been floating around everywhere in the underground, but I need some solid evidence of his existence and a lead to follow. I can't tell you why I'm asking this because frankly, if I did, I think they might kill me, or worse." Winta thought back to Franks rendition of Hastor's message and silently gulped on a lump of fear in her throat. She knew now how serious the mission she had been tasked with truly was and she regretted taking it on without asking more questions first. Hastor was a serious man and with tensions rising on both sides of the water, he would run over anyone in his way. "I need you to drop a name into the network too. I would do it myself but I think I'm being watched. You have your ways of getting around surveillance and I can't be seen dong anything on either side without the mission going wrong. If undercovers from the Dwellers or Elizian's alert anyone of my presence, I'm fucked." She spat the curse word out like it was the epitome of every ounce of anger brewing inside her. With the building temper expelled, she managed to calm herself and leaned forwards closer to him, saying the name in a whisper. "Paragon, that's the name." She leaned back, her eyes shifting from side to side and brushed a piece of lint from her shoulder, relaxing now that the word was out in the open. "If you can help me with that, I will give you details to the case I've just stumbled on. It could be the chance you're looking for to start taking out the corrupt government." She smiled, pleased with herself and realised that the bait she had set must have at least tempted the shark. If he accepted her offer, she would have to apologise to Rodrick and play the night off as an emotional and drunken mistake of words. Eventually he would forgive her and she could get close enough again to confirm her slight suspicions and feed the information to Dex. However, until he chose to agree to her terms and hand her some solid evidence and help, she would not mention her friends name. If she was wrong and implicated an innocent man, one that she had once been very close to, she would never forgive herself. What she was doing now when pursuing the leads to her Ghost case, was more for personal gain that for the Admiral that had hired her and she would be damned if she threw an honest man's career away in her desperate need to find the truth.

Tobias shifted his feet nervously as the elevator flew upwards to the top floor. Two muscled guards stood at his side, staring ahead as if he didn't really exist. They're one purpose was to get him to the meeting without him being harmed and then to protect their employer, from being harmed themselves. Tobias was a cocky and arrogant man, but he had never felt so small and insignificant wedged between these Golem like men. As the numbers on the screen indicated they had reached the 158th floor, the doors pinged open and the guards remained motionless. He took this as an indication for him to go first and as he stepped out of the elevator, the almost mechanical men seemed to have switched on and shuffled out beside him. The office he stood in was grand in every way imaginable. The ceiling was high enough to consume maybe two or three more floors above, it's width could house ten pod apartments and the entire furthest wall was made entirely from glass. At first he stared around in awe. A giant fireplace embedded in the left white wall flashed fake blue flames. The eery colour was the only illumination in the room and the shifting shades danced across the sleek white floor. The office seemed very clinical, with advanced screens lining the walls and a constant theme of shining white in everything. Even though the fire was meant to be warm, the frosty blue tones cast a coldness across Tobias' flesh. The only personal item in the room was a desk in front of the giant window. It adorned another large holographic screen and piles of data pads stacked neatly on either side. As the guards ushered him forwards, he noticed a small and delicate woman slumped in an arm chair, reading lines of writing splashed across the holographic screen. It seemed either the woman was unaware of her guest or that she knew she was important enough to allow him to wait. Tobias picked at his hands and shifted his eyes from left to right awkwardly. After a few moment, a gentle and sweet voice drifted towards his ears.

"Ah, I am pleased you could make it Tobias, please take a seat." He was confused at first, not sure if he had imagined the words and grimaced as he saw no chair to adorn. But just before he was going to speak his concerns, a small white stall popped out from the side of the similarly white desk and floated towards him. He had never seen furniture camouflage so well within other furnishings before and recognised it to be one of his fathers newer designs. As he cautiously lowered his body onto the stall, it bobbed up and down and adjusted it's functions to support his weight. It buzzed as it bounced, trying to fit the man like a glove and clicked as it finally managed to steady itself. Tobias froze as the screen in front of him disappeared with a flash and President Hartlings withered face stared him hard on the eye. He gulped back his instant feel of unease and tried to relax as the woman smiled kindly towards him.

"I see no need for our friends here, do you?" She gestured towards the guards mounted at his side and Tobias unwittingly shook his head along with her words. The two muscled men took this as a command and retreated back to the elevator.

"There, now doesn't that seem better? Just the two of us. So Tobias, how are you?" Tobias reached up to the tie around his neck and tried to loosen it. He suddenly felt very hot and extremely under pressure. He wasn't sure whether or not to answer her first question and realised it was a rhetorical one to put him at ease.

"I am fine thank you Madam Hartling." She interrupted with a wave of her hand.

"Please just call me Eleanor. I think with the work we are doing, we should surely be on a first name basis, don't you?" Tobias was unsure how to answer again and nodded his head along with his words. He felt as if he was being hypnotised or scorned by one of his old teachers. If it wasn't for the suit he was wearing, he could have sworn he was an eight year old boy being interviewed before the principal.

"Now Tobias, I would like an update on proceedings. You messaged me to say the project was a go?" Her voice was sweet and calming and Tobias managed to relax his body slightly.

"Yes, my father has taken the bait and is signing the entire company over to me when he dies."

"Very good. You are a brilliant little soldier." Even though condescension was dripping from every word she spoke, Tobias couldn't help but lap up the praise she was throwing his way.

"Did you manage to ask him about his secret project?" Her voice was sterner now and it was clear she had just been playing sweet. The real information she seeked would be the answer to the question she had just asked. Tobias clenched his jaw and winced at his own folly. He had completely forgotten to ask and was now dreading disappointing the woman before him.

"No. I didn't ask. There was tension between us tonight. However, he is going to start showing me the important side of the business tomorrow. In a few days of going along with whatever he wants, I am certain he will divulge any information we require." The president sat back with her hands clasped thoughtfully on the desk. A frown furrowed her wrinkles and her bright eyes darkened against her fluffy pink jumper.

"I see. I will not lie and say I am not disappointed, I was hoping he would tell us about the A.I sooner. But you are right, to do this properly, we should implore tact and have patience." Tobias tried to feign a smile but failed miserably as sweat began to drip from his forehead.

"Do we know who is going to kill him when the time comes?" Tobias was reluctant as he asked, but he hoped knowing who would take his fathers life would somehow put him at ease. If he knew when and how it would happen, he could prepare himself mentally. Eleanor gently laughed and leaned forwards in her chair. Her face was soft and ever so comforting now. The blue light from the fire licked across her features, highlighting the folds in her face and making her seem oh so fragile. The starlight from behind lit her silvery hair like an aura of holiness. As she leaned forwards to speak, Tobias bit his tongue in anticipation, hoping for the moment to be over.

"Well dear boy. You of course." Tobias' heart pounded fiercely in his chest and every inch of his being shouted back at him in refusal.

"What do you mean me?" Eleanor smiled even sweeter and a satisfied light beamed in her eyes.

"It's the perfect plan Tobias. No one will suspect you killing Eli." Tobias without realising what he was doing, leaped from his floating stool and stomped his feet.

"This was not part of the deal Eleanor. You did not tell me I would have to kill my own father. You just said to get the information, get him to sign and you would handle the rest." With his tantrum in toe, the president spun her chair around and placed her back to him. She gazed wistfully out into the night sky and replied with bitterness in her voice.

"Tobias, you signed a contract. You have to follow through with this and adhere to my every instruction. I must warn you, if you do not take your fathers life, I am within my right to take yours." Tobias flushed at this revelation and grasped at his throat as her words sank into his mind. He struggled to breath and his eyesight swam with fear. Unable to answer, he simply gasped and tried to steady his shaking hands.

"This is what you wanted boy. At the time, you were so consumed by greed you did not think of the consequences. I warn you, do not cross me or you might lose what little life you have left. Now, consider my proposal. Get the information we need, kill your father when I command and in the end, you will inherit the company and become the richest man alive. However, if you choose the other path, your life with be snuffed out like an ants beneath my shoe. I will not hesitate to extinguish your miserable face and neither will I lose sleep over such an insignificant man. Leave and decide." With that, the two guards from before returned to Tobias' side. Unable to argue or think of any coherent words to respond with, he simply let them escort him back to the elevator. Thoughts of regret and betrayal swam across his mind. What have I done?

Gh0st · Oct 10, 2014

As Darya spoke, Charlie listned intently. Ordering a glass of whiskey, he continued on absorbing the information she was giving him. The more she spoke, the more Charlie realized that his choice of including her in this mission was a very good one despite the board's many complaints. It was clear that she was more then worthy to be part of the grew. She had even gotten rid of the pevious crew of the ship they were to steal, an impressive feat. To Charlie, Darya was much more capable that multiple men could be, a very good trait.

"Yeah, we got it" Charlie replied regarding the info. "Good choice with the boat, by the way, you got a good eye" he praised her with a smile.

His smile faded as his tone became more business-like. Charlie was someone who was funand down to earth, but business was business after all.

"Alright, so this is how its gonna go down. We got the name of a smuggler who might help us, a guy named Breckin. Anyways we're gonna go down to meet 'em and work things out. If things go smoothly, we're good to go" Charie informed Daray before finishing his drink. "You in?" he asked her.

GinjaGen · Oct 11, 2014

Darya chuckled. "Believe me, I know boats. Just wait 'till you see 'er, she's a beauty!" Darya said, momentarily lost in thought about the ship. She could see the way the bow pointed, and the curve of the stern. She had decided she was going to keep it, falling more madly in love with it the more she envisioned herself behind the wheel. She couldn't wait to show it off, and maybe get it all done up with a new paint job when this was all over. She was also thinking about how happy she was she'd run into Sheppard, even under the odd circumstances. He seemed to really understand what he wanted, and how to get it. He was a good person for her to be working with.

Plus, he knew when it was time to be serious, Darya noted as she watched his face change. That was something she arguably needed to work on. Sure, she took things seriously, but her face didn't always know that that was the case. When he mentioned meeting the smuggler, Breckin, Darya chuckled. She had heard of the man before. He'd taken some jobs from her father. She'd love to meet and team up with anyone that had annoyed her father. She knocked back the rest of her drink. "I'm in. What do you need me to do? Come along, or get the ship ready?" She asked.

A.C.3 almost instantly regretted agreeing to the man's proposition. He was again reminded that he knew nothing of the man, and the man's comment about wanting to examine his circuitry regardless of errors made A.C.3 feel even more uncomfortable. However, the fact that he was uncomfortable made him even more worried, and that in turn upset him, and that in turn made him decide to follow this man into the taxi in order to fix these strange problems he was having.

As they sat there in relative silence, A.C.3 could feel the robot driver's eyes on him, observing him. Maybe it knew he was malfunctioning and was sending a message to the authorities to pick him him. Or maybe that was all just another malfunction. He hoped it was. His worrying was interrupted by the man introducing himself and then sticking his hand out. A.C.3 knew the handshake was customary, but felt it a bit odd that he was offering it to a robot, and a malfunctioning one on top of that.

But he appreciated the motion, and met the man's hand, "I am Autonomous Cognition Droid Model 3, also known as A.C.3," he smiled.

Of course the fact that he was smiling worried him again, and the small smile quickly vanished.

Uncultured · Oct 13, 2014

Winta hadn't changed much, she still had a veneer of professionalism hiding her judgments and even though she had to feel at least some slight discomfort, she hid it well underneath a staunch and unemotional facade. She wanted to know about the leader of one of many land dweller sects of people that had been branded terrorists by the oceanic medias, but in truth they were fools fighting for a twisted sense of equality. Elizia and it's neighbors had been the pinnacle of human existence for decades, perhaps even a century and some change, but with time came the creeping shadow of decrepit politicians, crime and corruption. In Dex's mind, he viewed them as noble, yet foolish people, attempting to find safe haven in a society that lacked what they sought. In a sick sense, the Elizian propaganda machine was the parent of the movement that the government now fought against. If the media and government sponsored propaganda of Elizia had reported with a shred of honesty instead of a vanity induced dream projected to the rest of the world, the land dweller movement for immigration would have never taken place, or it would have died quite quickly after starting up, and the lives lost due to various terrorist attacks and outright wars fought between violent rights groups and many oceanic states would never have taken place.

Dex knew a little about Ghost, more than most but he was no expert on the subject matter. If it had mattered to him he could have pressed numerous informants both in Elizia and ones that he had contact with in a half a dozen cities in various countries on land. He had sources that would, with some prying, divulge knowledge on the man, but Dex was in no rush to divulge information, he would need help from the outside breaking into Beltren and if she thought it would be that easy to get him to give up information, she was wrong. Dex could cut the main power on his own, but the backup generator was located half a mile away from Beltren and without someone on the outside to get the second generator he'd be caught, arrested, imprisoned and fired.

"A favor for a favor" he said as he walked slowly to the makeshift information boards he had put together. "Julie Hailchild, age twenty nine, expert in robotics and software development, level five access for Beltren Tech military applications, found dead in apparent robbery gone wrong, assassination robot seen leaving scene by bar patrons" he said informatively before shifting to the other side of the board, pointing with his left hand to another picture of a dead body.

"Marcus Pratt, age thirty four, dock worker and assistant foreman, found dead in apparent suicide. Two days previous to death, three containers were lost in the chaos of the docks, two were later found, one emptied of illicit substances or emptied of valuable goods for resale on black market, other crate found on bottom of stack after being misplaced, third crate was never found. I pressed several dock workers for information, got my hands dirty, crate had forged papers, dock foreman of the day takes bribes to let them through, contents were illegal robot hardware and weaponry along with software implants for combat, the dead man, Marcus Pratt was dock foreman for that day" Dex continued to another part of the board, pointing to a pair of pictures before continuing.

"Reven Teague and Kyle Opworth, both found dead after shootout in home, killed with large caliber bullets, sixty caliber shells fired by mobile assailant, assailant either massive in frame while being one of the strongest men on earth, or a combat robot similar to the one seen outside of Hailchild's apartment. Both victims had long rap sheets, among them are recurring charges of tampering with licensed robotics, creation of unlicensed robotics, creation of unlicensed software for robotics, illicit usage of robotics, and illicit and unlicensed use of mechanical implants, both were seen nine days before death, meeting with this man" said Dex, pointing at a picture of a dark haired man in his forties, the picture was from an off angle and through the glass pane of a car, clearly the work of surveillance. "Mark Hemmings, legal adviser and buffer for Beltren Tech" said Dex, putting emphasis on the last two words of his sentence.

"There are three more, but you get the idea" he said gesturing to three other photos on the wall, each showing the vivid image of a dead citizen of Elizia. "Even with these connections, my CO wont issue a warrant to go through Beltren's files, too big a fish to fry through legal routes I suppose" said Dex, pausing before continuing, cautious not to divulge too much of his plan before securing her help. "I'll need help gathering some intel, technically it's illegal, but as I said, favor for favor, you help me, and I might have some names and contacts for you" he said, satisfied in his ability to persuade the woman, she was a hunter, and with a little convincing she might just be the perfect accomplice for the Beltren break in. The job he needed her to do was a simple one, but he needed someone reliable, someone that needed him to come back alive, most of the informants and criminals that Dex pressed on for help in off the books operations and for information would probably leave him for the law instead of actually shutting down the backup generators, but if she needed him alive and free to get information on Ghost, she was the perfect person for the job.

Lumeneire · Oct 15, 2014

(Note: To be edited for continuity.)

Winta clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. Patience was not one of her virtues and the man before her sure knew how to press the right buttons. He hadn't taken the bait and that would set her back too long in the investigation. Now, she would have to befriend Rodrick once more and pursue that case herself. The weight of all the important work was mounting heavily on her shoulders and she rolled them forwards to ease the ache. Dex had never been known to turn down a case that had involved taking down corrupt officials and she realised now, how much he had really changed. Sure, he was still the same laid back, grime ridden, stubble bearing, alcohol drenched bachelor she had always known him to be, but his eyes were different. They spoke of pain, fear and misery. She realised now that the case he was speaking about had hit close to home and had broken him down as a person. He could no longer function as the intrepid Enforcer he had once been, until he could closed the case that was haunting his dreams. he would always be a hollow shell searching for the answers to the questions he had been asking for too long. Winta bit back her cruel words and genuinely tried to listen as he offered his proposition. A favor for a favor. Isn't that what everything was these days. Nothing could ever be done for free and past favors were always forgotten. In her mind, she had paid twice over for what she was asking, but the names of murdered souls that spilled from his tongue had clouded his brain and turned his memories to mush. She knew, that when he closed his eyes, all he would be able to see was their faces and any mention of past favours and shared moments were blank pages. As she turned her head to see the scattered news paper clippings on the wall, she suddenly felt very uncomfortable. It felt as if she was sitting inside this mans fragmented mind and he was asking her to piece it back together. Of course, if she did not oblige, her own life may hang in the balance. What was more dangerous after all? Working with a man who shook with anger as he spoke of catching a murderer he was forever hunting or being followed and silenced by Hastor, the man in charge of it all? Winta weighed her odds and concentrated even harder on Dex's words.

Beltren Tech. Betren Tech? Beltren Tech! Winta almost heaved herself from her chair and dared to stand closer to the wall of murdered faces. She traced her palm across one of the pieces of string and rested the tip of her forefinger on a clipping from a printed page of 'The Elizian Independant'. The mans face was somber and soft. Glasses almost slipped from the end of his nose and dirty blond hair ruffled across his scalp like a misting halo. "Marcus Pratt you say? I know that name. Beltren Tech, I know something about that too. Hang on." She pulled her hand away from the picture and pressed it hard into her temple as she thought. Behind her scrunched up eyes, flashes of a television conference and a speech from professor Demforbe tantalized her senses. When realisation struck, she pinged open her scrunched eyelids and threw Dex a cheeky smile. Her teeth gleamed almost as brightly as the newly dazzling sparkle in her eyes. Whenever a connection came together in her brain, an uncontrollable happiness would sweep across her features. Some would mistake it for cocky, but most that knew her would see it as a sign of accomplishment as she managed to find a clue that would crack the case. "Marcus Pratt. He used to work for Professor Demforbe at synthetics Incorporated. Beltren tech is a side company produced by the military division, headed by Admiral Jonathan Hastor." She tried to hide the scowl that washed over her face but knowing Dex, he would catch it immediately. She glared at him, showing him not to press the matter in any way and carried on with her epiphany. "There was a lot of debate as to whether the Synthetics programme should be weaponized and Marcus was at the head of the campaign. From what I remember, he lost the argument and his job. The Professor wanted to keep him on, but Hastor and Hartling made damn sure that if their full cooperation into Synthetics incorporated was to carry on, someone would have to take the fall for the political backlash." Winta stroked the picture again and tried to fill in some of the blanks in her explanation. "Word has it that Marcus and a small team were working on something important for the Professor but after the shit storm hit the fan, the team had the choice to either resign quietly and find mediocre jobs or go over to the side company and work for Beltren. Now that I think of it, that Mark Hemmings guy was the legal informant for Synthetics corp but decided to move over to Beltren instead of quitting. " Winta traced her hands on the surveillance photo of the dark haired man and turned her attention to Dex. "You definitely have something here and I know I have a lot more information in my personal files. I like to keep my own investigations on the side, just in case." She shrugged her shoulders at the nonchalant way she had blatantly admitted to her disregard of Enforcer protocol and tried to force a smile to cover up the shame. "Look Dex, I know it's not allowed to keep tabs on investigations privately and definately not keep those files when you leave the Enforcers, but right now, I would say my blatant disregard for authority might just be your best friend." She nervously crushed the toes of her boots into the floor like a little girl caught stealing from a cookie jar. With her eyes cast low, she dared to look up and hoped she wouldn't be met with a disappointing frown.

She walked away from the wall and sat back down, this time not bothering to cloak herself within the safety of her coat. She felt invigorated to be on the trail of a great conspiracy but she would also have to stand her ground. She wanted assurances if he wanted anymore help. "I will do what you need in exchange for information of Ghost. However, I need a little down payment first so I can get the ball rolling on my own investigation. I have to act quickly and I need results now. If you casually drop the name 'Paragon' amongst your sources right now, I will do whatever and whenever you need it." She thought back on what she said and tried to rephrase it, thinking of their past indiscretions. "Anything regarding the case that is, no personal pleasures obviously." She looked away and mumbled under her breath. "Not that you're interested in that anyway." With the snide little comment out of her system, she turned back around and dared to meet him in the eye. "Make some quick calls now, drop the name, then we can go get my files and we'll break into Beltren, cleverly." She added the word at the end to remind him of what she was best at. Thinking ahead, planning under pressure and acting her way through any situation was just the thing he needed right now and he would be an absolute fool to refuse. If he tried to barter anymore, she knew she would storm out and pursue other paths. After all, she was here for her investigation and as much as she was now intrigued by this investigation, it was actually starting to waste her time.

Chief Eastbourne was still spinning around on his office chair like a giddy school kid. All of his dreams and ambitions had finally proven fruitful. Pure happiness welled inside his body, ready to spill from his ears and erupt from his mouth with an explosion of cheerful laughter and beaming tears. He read the document over and over, scrolling through the words and memorising them until they were burned into his retener. The S.E.P was no longer a joke and tomorrow, real contact with alien life would happen and he could show everyone, how hard work and belief won out over politics and greed. He stopped spinning on his chair as a feeble tap echoed from the glass door of his office. Eastbourne hadn't heard it at all at first and only after the third set of tapping did the spinning wheels cease and the room of booming laughter fill with silence.

"Come in, come in." As the glass door slid open, Eastbourne jumped to his feet and reached out to embrace the man before him. Professor Demforbe shuffled forwards and happily allowed himself to be engulfed by the opening arms. With the friendly gesture out of the way, Eastbourne stepped back and patted his spinning chair for the old man to dawn. The Professor did not deny the offer and parked his behind on the warm cushioned fabric. Eastbourne grabbed a plastic chair from the edge of the office space and grimaced as the hard legs dragged across the shining floor. He chuckled at his awkward motion and slammed the chair in front of his friend. He deflated into the seat and kicked his legs up onto the desk beside him, with the screen still lit up and the document scrolled to the beginning.

"What can I do you for my friend?" His alabaman accent heaved up and down with excitement and Demforbe replied with a kind smile, his voice much frailer and more delicate in comparison.

"I hear you've had great news today Terrence. May I inquire as to what it could be?" Eastbourne nodded with ferocious, almost childlike glee and pushed the screen in Eli's direction. Professor Demforbe leaned forwards, making sure to push his glasses up his nose and began to scan the document. Terrence watched eagerly to gauge the mans reactions and was pleased when he smiled and gasped at the right times. When finished, Eli sat back and held his hand out in front of him, gesturing for his friend to grasp. Terrence gladly accepted the gesture and they shook hands vigorously for a fair few seconds.

"Well, congratulations are definitely in order Terrence. It's such great news. I bet you can't wait to stick it to that bitch!" Chief Eastbourne scoffed at the comment and his eyes lit up once more like a childs, he leaned in further and chuckled under his breath.

"Now Eli, be careful how you speak of the Ice Queen. I hear she has ears everywhere." The two both sat back more comfortably and laughed heartily at their own in joke.

After a while, the laughter died to silence and Eli's expression dropped from cheerful to disturbed. Eastbourne picked up on the frown straight away and tried to hide his unabashed joy for a moment. Demforbe rarely had such a sad look on his face and on such an occasion as this, it would mean something serious had happened. The last time he had seen his friends face this sad, was when his wife had died.

"What's wrong Eli? You didn't come here just to congratulate me did you? Has something happened?" When Demforbe did not reply, but merely shifted in his seat, an aching pit sank to the bottom of Eastbourne's stomach. "Eli what's wrong, you're as white as a ghost?" At this, Eli dared to raise his gaze and stared hard into his friends face.

"I can trust you Terence, can't I? We've been friends for a long time and I can trust you?" Eastbourne nodded, now more terrified than worried and leaned forwards to hear his friends shaking words.

"Eli, you know you can tell me anything. It will not leave this room. I would never betray you or your family. You are my family old man." At this, Eli forced a smile and matched Terrence's stare.

"What I am about to tell you will make you angry but you must promise not to pursue it. What I am about to give you must remain for your eyes only and the information in the package is to be followed directly." Terrence's eyes dared to glance at the hands clasped in Eli's lap and noticed for the first time, a large, brown envelope. He swallowed hard and nodded his head, not knowing what else to say. With that, Eli was sure he could trust him and slid the envelope into Eastbourne's hands. He coughed tenderly into his palm and as he spoke, the words were sturdy and calm. It felt more as if he were listing off facts from one of his machines, rather than divulging a shocking truth.

"Terrence, I am going to die this week." Eastbourne opened his mouth as if to speak, then shut it just as quickly as Demforbe raised his hand in objection. "Let me speak my whole piece, you owe me that much Terrence." The man nodded in return and the speech carried on as if interrupted. "I correct myself. I will be murdered this week, by my beautiful boy, Tobias, or an accomplice, if he finds he cannot do the deed himself. Hartling has been after me for a long time and I have to let this happen, otherwise she will kill him. I have given them both what they want, although not for the reasons they think and I have put in place certain countermeasures. My death will be unsolvable, no doubt blamed on some innocent patsy and the information in the package will tell you why I am being murdered, who you can trust and instructions on how to fix it all. How to save my son, the company, the City and the Land Dwellers. I am trusting you Terrence because you are the only one who is honest anymore and stands for more than money. You truly want to save this world and in doing so, you need to save my world, my son, he is my everything and he cannot be blamed for what he does. You must promise me to keep this information secret and to not tell anyone the truth when I die." Demforbe faltered in his words as tears began to well in his eyes, the thought of Tobias and his dead wife overwhelmed his emotions and as he carried on, his words cracked and his body trembled. "There is a letter in the envelope explaining everything. Do not read it until I am gone. Do not try to stop this. Do not blame Tobias. He will be all that is left of my wonderful wife and I want you to protect that." Without another word, the Professor stumbled to his feet and half threw himself over his friend, grasping him in a hug so tight, that Terrence struggled to breath. However, he did not argue, he knew it would be the last time he would embrace his friend and cherished the musty scent that lingered in the air around them. After a long minute, Eli wiped the tears from his eyes, stormed from the office and never looked back.

Chief Eastbourne sat with the brown envelope resting precariously on the edge of his desk. It laughed at him, mocked him and screamed misery that bore into his very bones. What had started out to be the happiest night of his life, had turned into the saddest, most horrific and difficult moment in his entire existence. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he thought back on the promises Eli had begged of him and the heartache was almost unbearable. The document from the space mission winked cheekily on the screen and Terrence pushed it away with disgust. Who could he care about what was going on up above, when he was about to lose his best friend down below?

WinterPeach · Oct 16, 2014

A small glimmer of happiness shone in Metod’s eyes as the robot reciprocated his handshake, taking a mental not of the puzzling reaction the other had. ‘Huh, that smile…I’ve seen it many times before…usually on my own face. He must be worried. But what exactly is he worried about? No matter, I’ll get to it sooner or later. Right now I’ve got to get us back to my place and run a diagnostic on him.’ the scientist raddled off in his mind, along with the secret hope that he’d find something interesting residing in the robot’s circuits.

A small chuckle reverberated in the mostly-organic man’s throat before he responded to his acquaintance. “You’re A. C. 3 huh? That’s not a proper name if you ask me…have you thought about giving yourself a better one? One that you like? Think about it.” Metod gave the other passenger a reassuring smile, hoping the other would not take offence to his questions.

However, the answer to his questions would have to wait for a later date. The taxi was swiftly approaching the entrance to Metod’s apartment, and the two would have to disembark. The two exited the vehicle and approached the door, the scientist entering his access code into the numerical pad by the doorknob. A retinal scan was followed next with a comment from the scientist, “Sorry about this…in the line of work I’m in, security is an essential thing.”. With all of the security protocols cleared, the door panel slid aside and as they entered it slid back into place.

The door opened up into a living room area littered with papers, books and machines of every sort scattered about haphazardly. Needless to say, the apartment itself was a bit of a mess which wasn’t really a surprise, considering the bachelor status of the occupant and his hobby of tinkering with new technological breakthroughs. “Hold on a second, I need to detach some things…please, make yourself at home.” Metod gestured to a couch before removing some of the armatures on his back.

The extra arms on his back attachment were currently equipped for everyday activities, not detail work. Metod carefully removed some of the attachments on the forelimbs and replaced them with things like tiny pliers, a soldering gun and hand-like structures with thin, nimble fingers. While he arranged the weird extra arms, Metod decided that this was a bit too quiet for him. ‘Again with the awkward silences. Ugh, how I hate those!’ the man thought to himself before trying to engage the robot in conversation. “So…can you give me a rundown of what happened to you? Has anything seemed unusual or strange to you in the past few days?” Metod hoped that something the other experienced might provide a clue to what went wrong.

Lumeneire · Oct 17, 2014

Big things coming this way people.

New characters, chilling conspiracies and action packed story.

This song pretty much sums up the roleplay,

both for the good and the bad.

Think honest, out of this world and sinister.

[media]

[/media]

Birds flying high, You Don't know how I feel!

Sun in the sky, You Don't know how I feel!

Breeze driftin' on by, You Don't know how I feel!

It's a new dawn...

It's a new day...

It's a new life for ME

And I'm feeling good

Fish in the sea, You don't know how I feel!

River running free, How could you know how I feel?

Blossom on a tree, HA! That's not how I feel...

It's a dark dawn...

It's a strange day...

It's a new life, For me

And I'm feeling good!!

And this old world, is a new world, And a bold world for me...

Don't go feeling good.

Gh0st · Oct 17, 2014

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Charlie looked into Darya's eyes as he intently thought about the question. Did he trust her enough to get the ship for them by herself? Sure, she could definitely handle herself just fine, but that's not what he was worried about. In the heat of the moment, he'd hired someone that he knew hardly nothing about. Some would call that a very idiotic move on his part, but as a leader there were times when decisions had to be made. Charlie's decision had been her. He hadn't made it because she was attractive or capable like would most assume. Although she was clearly both of those things and he wouldn't deny it, but that was irrelevant. Deep down he'd made the decision because he could tell by looking at her in the market that she was in a difficult situation. And the way Charlie saw it, everyone deserves a second chance.. Maybe that was unrealistic and childish to most, but to him it was the right thing.

"Alright, it only makes sense to split up our resources. So you go get us that boat and I'll talk to the smuggler. when you get your hands on the boat, meet me over at the docks. Be careful, we got nasty pirates in these parts who'd gladly kill ya" Charlie said to Darya. He was worried about what could happen to the girl out in the sea and it clearly showed. However, this was another moment where he'd make a difficult decision and taken a risk. He just hoped he had made the correct decision.

"So, that's what we're gonna go with. You got anything to add or maybe a better plan?" Charlie asked. The opinions of other had always been important to know. to him it was essential that everyone shared their thoughts and feelings.

Circus · Oct 17, 2014

A reluctant sigh escaped Rodrick’s mouth. The evening had not gone as planned. No information was obtained and a once useful ally was now suspicious and would have to be dealt with. The man made his way through the crowd of the bustling district heading toward his false home to his false wife when his wrist communicator vibrated.

To: Rodrick Kelly

I know your secret.

Meet at the Dark Horse.

25 minutes.

From: TD

Rodrick’s face was stoic. The message was cryptic and could mean any number of things. Still, any secret of his was worth keeping under wraps.

The Dark Horse was another bar in the entertainment district. It was seedy and attracted those not considered “friendly”. Its face was a bar, but underneath it was one of Eliza’s illegal sex pods. Both human and robotic sexual acts were conducted behind the scenes at the Dark Horse, and many famous figures were regular patrons of the establishment.

The government official stepped through the door and was greeted by a robust robot, “Hey sugar, looking for a good time?” Rodrick waved the automaton away and proceeded forward. As Rodrick Kelly, it was his first time entering the facility, but as Asar, the Dark Horse was all too familiar.

Rodrick took a seat in the back of the bar, maintaining a low profile from watchful eyes. A shadowy figure took the seat across from him just as he sat down. “I was waiting for you. Glad to see you’re not as stupid as I thought,” the figure spoke.

Rodrick’s eyes studied the figure before him. Sweaty and out-of-place, the man was begging for trouble. “Happy to live up to my expectations, Tobias. Why did you call me here?” He was cool, calm, playing the game as he had so many times before.

“I need your help and you’re going to give it to me. Or else,” Tobias said, peeking over his shoulder.

“What makes you think I can be of any help?” Rodrick replied.

“Because I know who you are. What you are. I’m not as dumb as other people. I’ve seen you around, heard whispers. You’re influential down here in the underworld. Think you have people fooled, but not me.” Tobias ran a hand through his greasy hair. “I know who you are, Mister As--“

“Stop,” Rodrick interrupted forcefully. “Enough. What do you want?”

A weasely smile appeared on Tobias’ face. Satisfaction of getting what he wanted changed his attitude. “I need my father killed. In a week or so, give or take a couple days.” Rodrick stared at the human rat, his beady eyes displaying a mix of triumph, stupidity and a hint of fear. Rodrick had encountered his kind before: too confident, too hasty, stupid. “You’ll do it, or the proof I have will be publically known and you’ll be tried and killed. You’ll go down in history as one of the most notorious criminals in Elizia,” the weasel continued. “But maybe that’s something you want.”

Rodrick stood from his seat and proceeded toward the exit, he’d had enough of Tobias’ arrogance. “Five days,” he declared to Tobias, toes to the door.

“Glad to see we’re in agreement. Don’t try anything funny, Kelly. Remember, or else!” Tobias shouted after Rodrick, a hint of laughter in his voice.

Rodrick left the establishment, the robust robot thanking him for his patronage, “Come again any time, sugar.” He tapped his communicator and listed three names:

Eli Demforbe. Tobias Demforbe. Winta Reeve.

The list was sent to his four generals. Another sigh escaped Rodrick’s lips. This night had not gone to plan. Not one bit.

GinjaGen · Oct 20, 2014

A.C.3 tilted his head, his eyebrows furrowing as Metod commented that 'A.C.3' was not a proper name. What exactly entailed a "proper" name? As far as he had known, his designation was proper, though he knew droids would sometimes be given more familiar names by their families. However, he didn't have a family, and probably wouldn't be getting one any time soon with the malfunctions... but still.... A name? What would it be like to have one? To be able to chose one? To be able to decide what or... who?... he was. He kind of liked the idea of being his own... person? He shook his head. Most likely these ponderings were just more defects, and the sooner he got checked out the better. However, even as he thought this, in the back of his mind he made a note to consider names that he might like to be called.

He was mercifully distracted by the end of their journey. As A.C.3 followed the man into his apartment, watched him gain access to his residence, and then mention the security of his job A.C.3 became nervous again. But by then it was too late, and he was already inside. He took in the surroundings, trying to learn what he could about the man. While the place appeared cluttered, much of the clutter appeared to indicate knowledge, especially knowledge about technology, which was reassuring to A.C.3.

A.C.3 moved and took a seat on the couch as he watched the man prepare. It was quite fascinating to see the man's different additions. Then the man had asked him a question, and A.C.3 froze. It was an innocent question, meant to help the man prepare to fix him, however A.C.3 knew that it was that moment that would make or break the situation for him. If he admitted the extent of his malfunctions, the man might simply deactivate him and send him back to the recyclers. The fact that the concept of being deactivated and recycled upset him was how A.C.3 decided to tell the man the truth. He wanted to be free of these "emotions." They made life much too complicated. He didn't know how humans were able to survive with them.

"I can not remember anything before yesterday when I woke up at the recycling factory."

Darya laughed out loud when he mentioned pirates, then attempted to reign herself in. She didn't need to scare off the man giving her a job. However, she couldn't help but point out the humor of his comment. "There's only one pirate that'd try ta kill me, and he's my father." She said, unable to keep from grinning.

It was true. She had grown up on the sea, fighting, stealing from, and working with most of the toughtest and well feared pirates on the ocean, her father included. She knew most of them personally, and they all knew her father, whom they feared. While at the moment, with her argument with her father, she wasn't directly affiliated with him, the pirates knew that she was also not to be messed with. She was confident that they would have no problems with pirates, unless they ran into her father.

"I'm good." She said finally, dropping her cheery disposition for just a moment and looked Sheppard in the eye so he knew she was completely serious. "I appreciate the concern, but I can handle what comes at us at sea. I got a bit of experience with pirates"

With the last line her smile returned, "I'll get the ol' girl nice and warmed up, while you secure us a smuggler."

Uncultured · Oct 21, 2014

Winta was harboring feelings of bitterness or perhaps just a lingering dislike, but either way her comment at the tail end of her words was clearly audible even though she had muttered it rather than saying it outright. They had a fling, it was over, simple and plain, there was nothing to it in Dex's mind but she was in a different place. Dex chose to ignore the statement, instead addressing her requests for information."Your chasing a pointless lead" said Dex before walking from the board, sitting upon the metal chair on the farside of the table. "Don't get me wrong, enemies of the state are a target worthy of pursuing in the eyes of the commendations board at least, but in truth, if Ghost is killed, or taken into custody, there will always be another waiting to take his place, funny thing is, there ain't a damn thing here worth fighting for that they don't already have" Dex said slowly and cynically. "It takes time to contact these guys, I cant just ring them up on my communicator or through the net, some of them are in other cities and some are on land, there's only one person I know who I can get a hold of right now who might have some information on your man, other then that, it's going to take a day or two to get a hold of some of these guys" said Dex dryly, taking a cigarette from the pocket of his shorts, lighting the rolled tobacco with a lighter before continuing. "And regarding Beltren, these people are dangerous, they're well connected and if they find out your involved with my investigation they might kill you along with me, there's a reason I got all those locks installed, it's the same reason I have a small arsenal in my bedroom. These people have no boundaries, so before you commit to this, ask yourself, how important is this information your looking for?" asked Dex, even though he needed a partner and despite their differences, he didn't have any ill will towards Winta. He knew he wasn't safe while investigating Beltren and he didn't want to drag anybody else into the fire that would inevitably come his way if he came too close to the truth.

Lumeneire · Oct 22, 2014

Winta listened intently as he spoke, her brows furrowing as his explanations sank into her mind. When his speech ended, she tapped her fingers on the table as her mind tried to conceive a formidable answer. "Who said anything about killing or arresting Ghost? The less you know about my objectives, the better. I shouldn't have mentioned it to you at all but I was foolish enough to trust in professional courtesy. From now on when our deal has been struck, concerning my end of the bargain; you give me cold hard facts, not your opinion. I think that's a fair enough compromise to ask isn't it?" She slid off of the chair and stood straight with her shoulders tense. All form of casual conversation had been sucked from the air around them and she knew now, in order to get what she needed, she would have to be who she used to be, the person she had desperately tried to leave behind. When Winta was an Enforcer, she could be cold and calculating, always making the most difficult choices, sometimes not even valuing human life over the target objective. Her acting skills were utilised effectively in the undercover sector of the force and it made people see her as a manipulative bitch. She was sometimes even branded untrustworthy and greedy by the people she worked with. But that wasn't her, no one really understood the sacrifices she had had to make in order to put the bad guys down. The head office had taken personal interest in her, assigning her to high profile cases and commanded her to be cruel and vindictive in order to achieve results. Now however, when she had completed a job big enough to earn her a medal and be hired as a personal guard for the important members of government, she took the opportunity to get out of the life that had tainted her name and truly become someone who could help in all the right ways. But with the mission she had now been tasked with and an innate desire to contradict the orders, she could and would become that person again, even if it meant she would have to be commanding and difficult.

"Okay Dex, you win. Take your time gathering the information for me. It doesn't matter how long it takes, as long as it's correct and reliable. Concerning your case, I will help but you will have to do it my way. I've been to Beltren, I can get access to blueprints and employee information from my contacts in the Salvation Sector. I have to warn you now, we won't get anywhere going forward as Enforcers so we're going to have to go undercover. You're average downtown, shady kinda guy look won't cut it. You're gonna have to shower, maybe shave, put on some clean clothes, preferably a suit and stink of something other than cheap booze. The building and managerial staff have private protection agencies working for them, so we're gonna have to have a good cover. I know your idea of sneaking into a building is in the dead of night, wearing skin tight black clothes and carrying around lockpicks and stun guns, but to pull this off, we're gonna have to go in the day, surrounded by people and bluff our way in." Winta sucked in a deep breath and surveyed Dex's body from head to toe. With disappointment, she let out the breath she had been holding and shook her head. "You should get some rest, sleep off the booze and the inevitable hangover. In the morning, spend some time on your appearance, buy an expensive looking suit if you don't own one. I'll handle everything else and swing by tomorrow afternoon to pick you up with everything we need." Winta pulled her long coat around her body tightly and sealed it shut with the belt wrapping neatly around her womanly waist. As she headed for the door, she looked back towards him and forced a smile. "You might not like taking orders, or dressing up, or generally even pretending to act like a gentleman for one afternoon but if you want to crack this case, you've gotta do it my way. I know what I'm on about Dex, that's why you asked for my help. Just remember that when things get tough, I'm only doing what I have to." She swung the door open, stepped out into the hall and grimaced as she was greeted by a chilling breeze. She gently closed the door behind her being careful not to wake up the nearby tenants.

Leaving the apartment complex was just as riveting as an experience as it had been upon entering. The carpet on the stairs was fraying at odd angles and more than once, Winta's heel had caught on a loose thread and nearly tumbled to her death. Once out of the dingy reception area and onto the dark, cold street, she allowed her body to finally untense. She looked from left to right, trying to figure out which was the fastest route to the main road and settled on the right exit. As she walked down the narrow alley and turned onto a side street, she shook her head at the holes in the road. Back when the city had first been under construction, this area had been the most advanced and wealthy area of town, but now with ever changing upgrades and a constant flow of climbing crime, the area had become the lowlier part of the city. The holes in the road were where solar panels used to connect together like a jigsaw puzzle. People had come along in the dead of night and pried sections here and there from the ground, probably to sell on as scrap or to replace parts in their own streets. It was a sad sight to see. The low ebb of blue light that usually hummed from the ground was fractured. Rather than an ever flowing path of haunting blue light, dark patches made the scene look grimey and the surrounding sections flashed like a broken bulb, unable to complete the circuit that kept it running smoothly. Winta had overheard in one of the architectural board meetings that they were planning on demolishing the area and recycling it for scrap. The plan was to remove all above ground living quarters to make room for more industrial buildings and robotics housing. That meant the city would expand further to allow more underwater pod apartments to be constructed. Winta made a mental note to mention this to Dex when she met him, to caution him to move into a pod before he was forced to vacate his property, although she knew her warnings would be pointless and he would ignore her anyway.

As she made her way down the road, careful to jump over any gaping holes that would probably snap her ankle, she tapped her wrist communicator and allowed it to ring. After two bleeps, the other end answered with an enthusiastic greeting.

"Hello Master Reeve. Two calls in one night, that has to be a new record." Winta scoffed at Frank's attempt of humour but knew deep down that he wasn't trying to be funny at all, he was merely stating a fact. Two calls in one night was a record and he was eager to show off his memory skills.

"Hello Frank. I need you to do me a favor."

"Aren't you supposed to be on a date Ma'am?" Winta scowled at the question and spoke through gritted teeth, angered by Frank's sometimes simple mind.

"No I was not on a date. I was having a drink with a friend and now I am working."

"I apologise for the assumption ma'am, I need an update in order to understand human interactions more sufficiently." Winta unclenched her jaw and let out a deep breath, now realising that she had been snapping at an automated computer creation and that he was unaware of her personal life.

"It's okay Frank. I'll order that update for you when I can. Now, that favor. I need to activate protocol lockdown. From now on, only I can enter my apartment with voice activation, my password and palm print. Anyone else that comes near the front door, I want you to access their files and tell me exactly who they are."

"Okay Ma'am. That has been activated for you. From now on, our conversations will be secure and all data sent to and from your comms and apartment will be encoded and scrambled. Anything else?"

"I need you to find the Beltren files on my data pads and print them out for me."

"May I ask why ma'am?"

"Paper is harder to track down that computer files"

"I'll have them ready for you when you return home."

"Thank you Frank, I won't be long." With that, she clicked the off button in her ear.

The night air was cold, cutting through her exo suit and whipping at her taught trench coat. It would take her an hour to walk home and navigate through the streets, so she decided to call a cab. The sign ahead of her read 'Stingray Lane' and Winta rolled her eyes with contempt. When the city was first built, all of the street names were ocean and aquatic themed. It was the worlds way of showing how grateful they were to the vast seas for providing a new lease of life. Ignoring the stupidity of the name, she tapped on her wrist comm once more and waited for the reply.

To: Elizia Taxi Service

Request pickup on 'Stingray Lane',

Winta Reeve,

1 passenger.

As the comm bleeped back with a response, she stepped back onto the path and out of the road, knowing the cab would be quick and more likely to run her over with the lack of light in the sector.

To: Winta Reeve

Request accepted.

ETA 3 minutes.

Thankyou for using our service.

Have a safe journey.

As she took another step back, staring intently at her comm to read the small writing on the screen, her ankle caught on a tangled piece of metal. She thrust her arms forwards, in some vague attempt at clutching onto the air and fell back, her waist slamming hard on a hunk of metal sprawled across the floor. She squealed in agony as the sharp pain thrust up into her side and closed her eyes until it passed. She had suffered through much worse and a simple fall would pass in seconds. She breathed in and out, worked through the pain and growled under her breath as she saw the source of her fall. It wasn't the carpet in the apartment that had tripped her, nor the gaping holes in the road she had been careful to avoid, but a smashed up street sweeper was what finally took her down. She brushed the dirt from legs and grimaced as she placed her weight on her one hand to push herself up. Once off of the floor and thinking clearly, she took in the scene before her. It was definitely a smashed up street sweeper with coils and cogs spilling out onto the floor, like intestines seeping from an open wound. She bent down to get a decent look at it and saw that it's face had been caved in. The silver and orange paint job was scratched up pretty badly and the jaw was unhinged. She placed her hand on it's shoulder and traced her fingers along it's crumpled skeleton. From the looks of the dents and deep scratches, it seemed someone had hacked away at it with a metal pipe or baseball bat. What saddened her most though, was that the robot would not have put up a fight, it would have stood and allowed a cruel human to beat the life from it's metal body, not understanding why it was happening or what it could do about it. She searched for life in it's face, but the lights in the eyes were dimmed to black and the usual gentle whir that came from it's head was silent. Her heart ached at the sight, knowing that it had been a hate crime that had caused the death of the creature and it made her almost weep to see the broom that it swept with, still clutched tightly in it's hand. Even in the midst of it's permanent shutdown, it tried to follow it's programme and serve the people that had destroyed it.

With only two minutes until her cab arrived and a lack of security camera's pointing in her direction, she took it as an opportunity to help her case. The idea had came to her as she noticed words scratched into the paint on it's torso, it read 'Human quality first'. Winta reached into one of the pockets on the inside of her coat and rummaged around for a tool to use. In her left breast pocket, she found a handful of lint and several fake ID's. In her hidden waist pocket, she found some Land Dweller coins and spare bullets for her gun. She checked her upper right breast pocket and located what she had been rummaging for, an old and rusted swiss army knife. These sort of tools were unnecessary in such a technologically advanced city but she was a hoarder of the old classics and surprisingly, it had come in handy more than she would have dreamed. She pinged out the cork screw attachment and began to scratch her addition under the words already written. As she did so, she dared not look the broken robot in the face, ashamed of what she was doing, but knew it was for the best in the end. What she was trying to set in motion, would bring freedom and equality not only to the Dwellers but to synthetic beings as well. Once finished, she jumped to her feet, placed her contraption back into her pocket and admired her handy work. 'Human equality first, freedom before greed, Paragon will set you free.' Flecks of paint crumbled from her fingers as she tapped away at her comms. She spotted the glow of her taxi and flagged it down as a voice answered the call in her ear.

"Hello there. This is Synthetics Incorporated Robotics support and you are speaking to Stephanie. How may I help you?" The cheery voice is exactly the response Winta was expecting and she put on a southern country accent to hide her identity.

"Why hello there Stephanie. Don't ya just have a charming personality. My name is Andrea and I would like to report a broken basic model."

"Why thankyou very much for the compliment there Andrea. Now that's just sad to hear. Can you give me the location so I can send a team to fix it?"

"Yeah sure. It's on Stingray lane. It seems as if it's been vandalised."

"Oh no what a shame. My team are on their way now. Is there any details you can tell me that I can add to the report log."

"Why yes there is Stephanie. It seems someones scratched something into the paint. It says 'Human quality first, freedom before greed, Paragon will set you free.' Isn't Paragon that Land Dweller empathiser that was in the news a while back?" The voice on the other end of the line was silent for a moment and when Stephanie responded, her voice was much less enthusiastic and much more nervous.

"Now, Andrea was it? Would it be possible for you to stay there so the team can ask you some questions when they get there?" With that, Winta knew her work was done and hung up the comm. The voice cut out at the other end and the cab door in front of her slid open. She slipped in and told the cab to drive to a street near her own. As the door sucked closed, the rounded vehicle zoomed forwards and made it's way along the preprogrammed route. She sat in silence for the most part and watched as the lights of the night zoomed past her. Street sweepers, drunken Elizian's and dozens of other cabs whirled around each other in the busier areas of town. It was a beautiful sight to behold and it angered her that only certain people were allowed to enjoy it. Why should Land Dwellers not be allowed the opportunity to live in such a lively and free environment? In a place where humans and robots coexist and for the most part, status doesn't matter.

As the cab halted to a stop around the corner from her actual street, she swiped her wrist device along the panel on the front window and waited for it to beep. As it did so, the Taxi personality asked her a question, in a voice similar to Frank's, but much less formal.

"Thank you for donating to The Dweller's in need charity fund. As a valued sponsor, we would like to ask you a question before you exit your ride, is this acceptable?" Winta sighed with annoyance, now wanting to get home and finally have some sleep but agreed to answer anyway.

"What is the question?"

"Why have you donated today at the end of your ride, when the services we provide are free?"

"Let me ask you a question. How much has actually been donated to the charity in the last year?" The cab whirred and clicked as it gathered the information and relayed the answer in a factual tone.

"0.3% of the population have chosen to donate in the past year. We have accumulated just over ten thousand credits for the charity. Each person donated on estimate, 0.5 credits per ride."

"Do you think it's right that we are in a society where the wealthy made the poor rich, that the rich are now condemning the poor? Do you think that 0.3% of the population, donating half a credit each is charitable or insulting? We are all equal. Nothing deserves to be treated to pathetically." With that, she climbed out of the cab and smiled to herself, knowing that the answer she had given would allow the founders of the charity to really ponder their choices, if only for a brief moment. Of course, even though the reason she had given was true, it was not the only reason she chose to donate Ten credits every ride she took. Embedded in the money was a virus that would wipe the tracking data from the Taxi's memory core and no one would be able to trace her movements in the city. It was like hitting two birds with one metaphorical stone.

After a few minutes of wandering down the right street, she ran down the stairs into the underground complex and placed her hand on the panel of her door. At first it wouldn't open and she remembered the voice command she had set in order for her own protection. She coughed in her throat and whispered into the mini microphone embedded in the palm scanner. "Paragon." With that, her door slid open and she dragged herself in, every inch of her body now aching with exhaustion. Before Frank had a chance to greet her, she nipped the conversation in the bud. "Hello Frank. I'm tired. Going to sleep. Lock up for me." She threw her coat onto the rack hanging by the door and threw herself onto the sofa as the door slid closed at her command. The day had been incredibly long and before another began, she would need a deep and trouble free sleep. She kicked off her boots and buried her head into a cushion on the sofa, not caring that the bed was only a few more meters away. Muffled through the fabric, she called out again. "Goodnight Frank! Big day tomorrow." She smiled as her Pod Bot responded and drifted into a deep sleep. The worries of the day drifting off into the night above.

"Goodnight Madame Reeve. Sleep well."

Uncultured · Oct 24, 2014

"Oracle, run scenarios one, four, five, eight and nine" said Johnathon Teague, an old and cynical man who had a penchant for drama and alcohol along with being one of the few lab technicians on Earth that was qualified to work with the massive and extremely expensive AI. "Greeting, Of course Johnathan, before I continue, statement of observation. I detect high levels of stress within your para language and your body is perspiring at a high rate, perhaps an intake of fluids would be beneficial for your chemical makeup" said the AI with a concerned tonality, the voice of the synthetic ringing crisp and clear in the cold and mechanically sparse room. Johnathan chuckled for a moment before speaking. "When your job is predicting the end of the world stress comes with the responsibility" said the technician in a defeated tone. "Very well Jonathon, although I advise you to hydrate yourself I concede to your judgement. Statement of prediction models and statistic scales. Sixty one percent probability of conflict between Elizian forces and rights groups, ten percent standard deviation due to failure of human observations, unrealistic optimism or overly cynical views along with self deceit and outright dishonesty. Probability of major viral outbreak within Elizia within twenty years is eight percent without deviation if current input is correct. Percent chance of Olympias asteroid impact upon earth, one point eight percent, percent of foreign object altering trajectory of asteroid into earth's path, point six percent. Probability of civil war within Elizia due to socioeconomic and political divisions, twenty nine percent with a five percent deviation rate due to various unset variables and false entries. Probability of crippling economic depression, sixty nine percent, the overall prognosis is quite bleak if I may say so myself" said the AI to the man before him, as the AI finished it's recitation of calculated figures the man jotted several things down on a piece of paper held to a wooden clip board before looking back up to the mechanical apparatus that contained much of ORACLE's hardware. "Oracle, what is the probability that none of those outcomes occur?" he asked with a stressed tone and a worried furrow of his brow. "Statement of probability, a point eight percent chance exists for such an outcome but the odds of at least one of the aforementioned occurring is ninety two point four percent" said the AI. "So what about the remaining six point eight percent?" asked the robotics expert. "The remaining six point eight percent is the percentage chance that another calamity will occur before the other aforementioned outcomes can occur" said the AI in a flat tone. "ORACLE, we're truly fucked" said Johnathan as his face cracked into a wide and clearly sarcastic grin. The man slumped into one of two rolling chairs that were posted in the room, spinning in the chair and looking out into the space in front of his face before continuing the conversation with the AI.

While ORACLE interacted with the man using a small amount of it's processing power, it also controlled one of the many synthetics that it held within it's umbrella of control. Without an increase in government spending in the military sector, the taxes would not rise, without a raising of the taxation percentages the bill proposed for foreign colonization and protection along with semi citizenry for land dwellers would be crushed. The land dwellers that would be, in a sense at least, land dwelling Elizians would be tax payers in exchange for protection under the Elizian banner and a more favorable trade agreement with the Elizian tax agency in terms of tariffs on imports as technically, according to the partial citizenship, the land dwellers wouldn't be importing anything from an outside source. According to ORACLES predictions, there would eventually be a push for equal rights after a period of eight to nine years. An internal pressure for immigration would indeed work in favor of the pro immigration rights, this was one of many small pressure points but to do so, military spending would have to increase. The best way to do so was through a violent action against the state of Elizia, using a patsy of course.

The synthetic that ORACLE was controlling was kept from the main grid through two buffers, in a basic sense, ORACLE was controlling a robot that was controlling a robot, the first connection was through a known and legitimate source, but the second connection was a backdoor and off of the books network designed and created by ORACLE to look like the work of land dwellers. The scene was already set, after the bomb would go off, the robot would make a brief statement on behalf of one of the largest and most influential rebel groups, the AHE (Army for human equality). Once the synthetic made it's statement it would go on a pre programmed killing spree. The effects would go as predicted by ORACLE and the percentage chance of failure for the predicted outcome was a very small six point three percent.

Through the eyes of the synthetic, ORACLE watched as the kinetic containment bomb exploded in the main entry area of the mall, the device performed with excellence, sending dozens of people back from the epicenter while swallowing two dozen more in a ball of flame and particles from the explosion. As the people within the mall ran from the explosion, the matte green combat robot that ORACLE controlled stepped out of the maintenance closet it had been hiding within, using the crack in the open door as a vantage point to view the explosion. The synthetic moved at a rapid and consistent pace towards the epicenter of the now cleared blast zone, using a built in semi automatic gun, the robot put several wounded mall patrons out of their misery, and all around the unfeeling machine, the screams of dying people were slowly silenced as it made it's way to it's destination. The synthetic stopped in front of the crater that had been blasted out of the floor."People of Elizia, this is a message, this is a declaration of our intent, you are no better then us, you are no more than human and you look down on us for living where god intended, this is our vengeance for your economic oppression, for your overbearing tariffs, for your campaigns of violence within so called havens of terrorism, you are the terrorists, and the is our revenge, for humanity and for the AHE" the machine stopped it's pre recorded rant, and activated it's weapons systems before activating the next stage of it's programming, to kill all of the Elizian's it came across until its destruction or an absence of ammunition.

Gh0st · Oct 29, 2014

(Sorry about the delay, work and school has been rough)

A smile of amusement danced across Charlie's face as Darya laughed when pirates were mentioned. He had forgotten that she herself had been a pirate once that stalked the seas and trampled many men. But as foolish as it seemed, he still worried for her. Charlie was fully aware that she would easily handle any pirates that came her way, but now that she was part of his crew there would always be a part of him that would worry despite her skill.

"Okay, good. I'll see ya at the docks then" he told her with a grin as he stood up and gave a loud sigh. "Let's go get us a smuggler" he told Sam and made his way out of the bar.

Walking down the sand and dirt roads, Charlie kept quiet as he thought to himself. Along side him walked Sam who had insisted he come along.

"So how we gonna find out which boat is our smuggler's, Capn'? The workers at the dock sure as hell ain't gonna tell us" the older, rougher man asked.

"Well, Sam, we're gonna ask 'em real nicely" Charlie told him as the scent of the sea made its way to his nose and they arrived at the docks. Truth be told, it wasn't exactly the nicest place in town. Even buy Land Dweller standards it was rough around the edges. The sight of men brawling for sport and getting drunk on the booze they had stolen was present every which way you looked. It was certainly wasn't a place for someone who wasn't prepared to be rough.

"Ey!" Charlie shouted before letting out a loud, high pitched whistle. The pirates, merchants, and other men that hung around the docks stopped for a moment and paid attention. The air was silent, a strange sight to see at the docks. All men there knew of him, unless you were just some drifter passing by. Charlie was a respected man among this crowd for he fought for what they all wanted: freedom.

"Any of you know where I can find Orwell?" he asked the crowd of men. There was several seconds of whispering among themselves before some of the men lead the way to his ship.

Charlie followed the men to the large cargo vessel hoping things went smoothly. Whoever this man was, he just prayed he could help them.

Lumeneire · Feb 7, 2015

Is anyone still interested in pursuing this? Everyone disappeared

Gh0st · Feb 7, 2015

I am still incredibly interested in pursuing this its such a good story

Lumeneire · Feb 7, 2015

Gh0st said:
I am still incredibly interested in pursuing this its such a good story

Well, we'll see if others reply and if some aren't interested, we can just spiral off and continue the story with less characters perhaps.

Gh0st · Feb 7, 2015

Alright, sounds good!

GinjaGen · May 25, 2015

I'm sorry I missed all of this! I'm still interested

Uncultured · May 25, 2015

I enjoyed this RP when it was going on, I'd be happy to continue it.

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