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Futuristic ▸ OASIS ◂


Grade-A Jackass
Roland Thompson

One-Eyed Merc for Hire

From a hill overlooking Oasis, a Roland sat upon a boulder with a monocular. He scanned the perimeter around the city. Looks like the fence was not electrified yet. So plan B was on the table then. At least he guessed. Demeter wasn't all too precise with her instructions. He had been on the other side of the table and could smell the moonshine as if he was swimming in it. Crazy woman drank more than him- And that SCARED him. He shook his head and continued scanning the area.

"...Four on the east side....Three southward....Ooo, nine to the west. And three more...Make that two on the north." he had to correct himself, seeing a small light-show as one wolf had a rather shocking experience.

He put down the monocular and took out a metal flask from off his gear. Taking a moment to unscrew the top, he then proceeded to down the rest of the contents before sliding it back into place on his pack. Now, while many people of authority would say drinking while working was a bad idea, Roland gave no visible fucks.

Roland put the monocular away as he hopped off the boulder and walked over to a lone tree on the hill. Near the trunk, a rather old-fashioned shotgun rested; its age was well-apparent, the countless nicks seemingly endless tarnishing told more than a few stories- at least one of them apparently dealt with teeth large enough to bite through a previous stock. That was probably the newest part on the entire weapon, too. Roland reached down and picked up the relic and dusted it off before reaching into his pack and retrieving a drum magazine and fitting it into place onto the shotgun. Clearly inspired by a 21st century design, this shotgun was more than capable of dealing with more than a simple 'territory dispute'. The semi-automatic firing capability makes sure the dispute is put to rest indefinitely.

After checking the weapon for any signs of breaking down, Roland gave a smirk. All good to go.

A single blast rang out from the western section of the city. One wolfound was down and wouldn't be moving again. A rather large chunk of its left side missing made sure of that. Within five seconds of the first blast, two more followed in quick succession.

Three down.

Now, for all the folks reading at home thinking; 'Oh great, another speedy guy we don't see SHIT about', well I'm gonna stop you RIGHT there. Especially YOU. Yeah. YOU with the overly critical personality. NO ONE LIKES THAT YA KNOW.

Roland sprinted through the badlands around the western front toward the next group of Wolfhounds, three in a group this time. Clearing the distance of forty meters in seconds, he ran just left of the closest one, holding the shotgun in front of him. As he past them, he spun to face his target and fired. The explosive shell ripped through the target and sent him backward. Behind him was the non-electrified fence- at least he HOPED it was still dead; otherwise this would spark up a new conversation for the boozehound scientist.

Yes. It was stupid, but dammit if that wasn't a trait Roland used the hell out of for money.

Fortunately, it was still dead, so he not only landed on the fence, but used the momentum to bounce off of it and launch towards the other two, leading to their expiry as well.

Six down.

He finally stopped for a moment to see where the last three on this end were. Sure enough, they picked up on his idiocy, or maybe the whiskey. Probably the whiskey. All three were converging on him, causing Roland to grin as he held up the shotgun, blasting the first two in another quick succession. The third came from out of his sight, which was rather large due to missing an eye. Slight hindrance, sure. But chicks digged the eyepatch. He wasn't sure why. Instead of using the shotgun, he went with the other course of action, now that the wolfhound was far too close for firearms.

Roland pulled out a knife near his chest and buried the blade deep into the animal's temple as it lunged at him. It flew past him and stayed motionless on the ground after it landed.

Nine down.

He looked around for a moment before reaching over to the right side of his head and pressing a button on a headset behind his ear.

"West cleared, Miss Drunk Science." he said before walking over to the corpse with the fancy new head-piercing.

He knelt down and attempted to get his knife out of the wolfhound's skull. Unfortunately, it liked its new fleshy sheathe.

"....Givit." he began tugging to try to pry it loose.

"Giviiiiiiiiit........" No avail.



One Weird Winker
Snow "Lummi" Pireance

Snow scratched his head, he always wondered why he was always getting himself such "slippery" situations. A slight frown tugged at his mouth before he shrugged it off with his usual bright grin. Then looked up at Connor his deep red eyes brightened a little bit and if anyone were to look they could swear they saw little "flowers" floating off him. "Do you need any help?" he asked his eyes becoming even more hopeful and the fluffy aura of his increased by ten fold. He had nothing else to do with his time, so he couldn't help but ask. The win blew past him ruffling his hair even more but he continued to stare.



Forest, of run fame.
"Well personally I just want to talk to ya. See if you know who's been breaking into houses. If not..." Sairi left that in the air, knowing that if the man was remotely lucid he would get the idea.

She was a cop, her first duty was to the people of Oasis. If he was messing that up than she would take him off the streets. According to the rumors he had a history with Omega. If that were true he wouldn't be alive for much longer, but there was nothing she could do about that. Standing up to Omega was as smart an idea as flipping them off.

@Archangel Galdrael


Lord of Flies
Dr Jansen Greaves

Mood: Slightly impatient

Location: Star Mart

Company: Trio of "children" (Mainframe's Todd and Amy, and Scarlett)

@DamagedGlasses @CloudyBlueDay


It was out of hours for Jansen's "psychiatrist" practice, but that didn't mean he didn't have work to do. Sitting down a collection files and reports, the shirt and tie wearing figure walked out of his small office workspace and across the hall into his private residence, a small apartment built onto the side of his offices. It was handy having it next door, emergency appointments could be dealt with quickly, and "emergency matters" could be prepared for without leaving the building.

Slicking his hair back into place slightly, Jansen sighed and walked into his kitchen. A ample sized room considering it was catering to the needs of one person, it was more than enough space to make good use of when preparing some of the more extravagant meals in Jansen's culinary repertoire. A large silver fridge seemed to stand out more then the other bits and pieces, it's towering shape looming over the work tops, the small silver cafetiere sitting next to it almost looked like it was shrinking back in fear, which would be ridiculous because it was an object, not a living thing, and hence did not experience fear.

Reaching out for the cafetiere, Jansen filled it with some coffee grounds, hot water, and left it to sit. Reaching into a cupboard for a mug, the tall Doctor began preparing for his caffeinated beverage. Next on his list was some milk. Opening the behemoth of a fridge, his pale blue eyes scanned the interior for the tell tale glass bottle, but it was absent...

"Fuck..." he muttered, no milk. No milk meant his coffee would be overly bitter, and while that was sometimes the desired taste, this late at night called for a creamy, smooth, yet tangy, beverage, one to calm the mind before settling down with a nice book. Bitter coffee was not on the menu, and that meant a trip to the store. Closing the door with a hefty sigh, Jansen made his was back to his office to fetch his jacket.

Maybe ten minutes later, the tall well dressed Doctor was crossing the street and walking into the local supermarket. It was a fairly large building situated more towards the edge of town, not too far from his offices, close enough to just be within walking distance, only just. As the doors slid open the bright artificial lights flooded the meagre parking spaces and caused Jansen to squint slightly after being out in the dim light of the evening. This visit would be quick, Milk, a quick browse at the deserts section, and back out, a visit that should take no more than ten minutes at most.

Walking down the aisles in his suit, Jansen tried to avoid the other shoppers as much as he could, every now and again he caught glimpses of their completely boring existence, their next two seconds of studying carb intakes, their next two seconds of "should I buy this? I don't know if I can afford it this month", it was almost infuriating, almost funny, mostly dire. Spotting the dairy fridges towards the back of the store, Jansen made a quick turn and a B line towards them, only to find himself stuck behind two children and another young woman, their shopping carts jamming the aisle up. If they had been closer towards the top of the aisle his "sense" would have picked them up, but no... They had to be three or so seconds down, didn't they.

Standing quietly for a few seconds as the trio worked out their predicament, Jansen grew impatient.

"Excuse me..." He said eloquently without much emotion behind it. IT was all that was needed, this group were in the way and he needed past.



Trust me, Im a Doctor
Bobby was on his way again after dropping off the package, dodging the street traffic and the people of Oasis. He turned quickly down an alley, and to avoid slamming into the wall and the dumpster he jumped on the wall, took a few steps on the wall to bound over the dumpster then dropped again and kept running. Everything was perfect, no bugs had flown into his mouth, he'd delivered the package with time to spare.

Suddenly his life was flipped upside. Well maybe not his life, but he was certainly flying upside down, until he hit a wall and slumped to the ground. Suddenly everything hurt, his back was on the ground, his legs were hanging over his head and he saw the culprit. The sole of his shoe had suddenly ripped and he'd tripped over it. Bobby righted him self and stood slowly, he assessed himself, a few scratches, but they only stung, already clotting and scabbing over. Bobby sighed, he went through shoes often because they simply weren't made for someone to run as often, or as fast, as Bobby normally did. He collected himself and started to head toward the Star Mart, the front of his shoe making a distinct flop noise with each step of his right foot.

Walking was the worst thing in the world in Bobby's mind, he didn't understand how people could move so slow, even as a kid he'd thought walking was dumb. Due to the need of a fairly open space to be able to run as fast as Bobby liked to run, the second worst thing to Bobby were crowds, and there was never not a crowd at the Star Mart. While people generally liked Bobby, and Bobby liked people, people did not like Bobby running past them. Which is why when Bobby noticed Scarlet's red hair, he remembered scaring her earlier. He needed to apologize so he walked down the crowded Aisle. He saw two kids he almost didn't recognize without the other three. Mainframe freaked him out a little, five people being one didn't make sense to him so he tried to interact with Mainframe as little as possible. However, it seemed that Mainframe was talking to Scarlet, and the crazy people Doctor was behind them all.

Step. flop. Step. flop.

Bobby walked up to the congestion, just making it more congested, and smiled, "Hey guys!"

Soviet Panda

Red Panda Commanda.
Connor gave the kid a look that said 'weren't you just listening?' "No. Jobs done, so now I'm just wandering around. I don't think I need to get anything. And I'm pretty sure I don't have to lift anything for anyone." he said, scratching his head as if that would help. "But I could be wrong. Maybe I do have something to do, but can't remember. They got the new fence going up, we could check that out."


One Weird Winker
Snow "Lummi" Pireance

Snow stupidly grinned, the moe (metaphorical flowers) around him intensified. He gave a slight salute and nodded to Connor. Not noticing by touching his head he had almost frozen himself. Little particles of snow formed around his face. He shivered, wondering why he felt so cold all of a sudden. He then did the most stupidest of things; ignorantly he went to feel around his face as an attempt to warm himself. Instantly the once small patch of snow, started spread quickly and eventually covered his whole face. He panicked. Arms flung out he ran around the place. Eventually, since he was blinded, tripped over a rock and fell face down into the ground.


That Guy Leopold

God I wish I was smart
Gergo Elek

Ah, there it was. Finally appearing on the horizon. Pleasant little place, from what he had heard. Called 'Oasis' by the local residents, of which Gergo had heard none of from the only person he'd ever met from the aforementioned place of residence. But apparently it was a nice enough place, with plenty to do, a nice little town starting to resemble post-apocalyptic living, a...slice of life, if one would. It would be nice if Gergo would be able to settle down for a while. Not having a permanent place of residence had its benefits and its drawbacks, and the drawbacks were really starting to overpower the perks.

Walking was for chumps. With a smile on his face, Gergo effortlessly carried himself across the lands at a considerable speed, far above how fast he could run. The nearer he drew, the more he was able to make out of whatever part of Oasis he was seeing. He could swear that he saw some figures in front of what appeared to be a large fence. As Gergo drew ever nearer, they became more pronounced, and most of the blurry figures transformed into wolves. Corpses, to be specific. Some had been killed by a kinetic weapon - perhaps a shotgun or high-caliber rifle. The bloodstains were to generous for small arms fire. The few others, not the same type of death. Electrocuted by the fence, perhaps? And one with it's own special treatment.

A knife to the skull. And by the looks of things, the kill was fresh, as the killer was still trying to pry the knife out of its new corpse-case. Gergo was just far enough away to hear the man yell something about a "Mister Killingsowrth, you little shitstain." Well, at bare minimum the hunter was creative. Gergo stopped himself about twenty feet off from the man, still desperately trying to obtain his knife from the wolf's skull. "Might you be needing some assistance? Looks like you're having a bit of troble." His accent was present, but thankfully it spared that sentence from butchery.

He took a few more steps forward; no longer levitating above the ground. Of course, he still sealed himself in invisible hardlight, dirt and dust and blood not able to touch his nice shoes.
"I take it zat you are a resident of Oasis? Killing off ze volves zat vould have ozzervise died on ze fence? Sings must not be as exciting as I have heard." Gergo smiled at the man opposite of him, almost basking in the butchery his accent brought. Antagonizing a man who had just killed quite a few wolves wasn't the smartest course of action for finding what might be the security force for Oasis, but Gergo had done dumber things in the past.

In an attempt to put a lighter tone on things, Gergo gave a playful bow, as if he were greeting royalty.
"I am Gergo. Who might I have ze pleasure of meeting? Aside from 'Volfsbane, cool as zat sounds." Gergo righted himself and folded his arms. His hair did not move despite the breeze, his glasses did not fall despite the bow. Small things to notice, but keen attention to details could save your life.



Grade-A Jackass
Roland Thompson

One-Eyed Merc for Hire

For awhile, it seemed as though Roland hadn't even noticed the man nearby talking at him. It was hard to tell if he was making any progress with the knife. As the man continued talking, Roland's efforts began to be more and more erratic, putting more force behind the retrieval of Mister Killingsworth. It was only at the end that his head bobbed upward, as he was only then listening to Gergo.

"Volfsbane sounds like some prescription for something HAIRY!" he exclaimed, finally getting the knife out of the creature....Sorta Sure, it was out of the creature....Save the head.

"YEA-SONOFABITCH!!" He glared at the creature's severed head. As he continued with his tirade of hatred against the heads of dead creatures, he never really noticed all the blood that had flew through the air and onto the area around Gergo.

After about...Thirty seconds of flailing the head around, trying to loosen the damn knife from the skull, more blood had been splattered on Gergo's seemingly invisible shield. One would wonder if the man could even see past the macabre splatter art.

Roland then decided to try diplomacy....With the severed head.

"You. Will surrender Mister Killingsworth to me now...Or I am going to get veeeery creative with my shotgun. ON YOUR BABIES."

It was clear he was in his own little world now. Gergo would need to do something drastic to get his full attention.

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