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Futuristic The world that we created [OPEN]

Are you an AI?

  • Yes, I live to serve!

    Votes: 2 11.1%
  • Yes, and I'm better than you. All humans must serve.

    Votes: 2 11.1%
  • No, I'm human

    Votes: 11 61.1%
  • I am not an AI

    Votes: 3 16.7%

  • Total voters
    18

marorda

Oddball and author


PREMISE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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The year is 2749, humanity has far advanced. After we finally discovered the technology needed to travel to neighboring galaxies. Through the knowledge we shared with each other, human technology was catapulted even further forward. Though pacts and treaties, mankind soon became one of the greatest, most prosperous civilizations in the Universe. But it all came to an end when technology surpassed humanity. It started small, when the AI developed into two types, the UAI (Unaware Artificial Intelligence) and the AAI (Aware Artificial Intelligence). The Unawares seemed to think they were humans and started living lives of their own. Granted, they were light on emotion and didn’t quite grasp all concepts of humanity, but they did not realize it themselves. Then there were the AAI, the Aware Artificial Intelligence. These knew they were created by men, and served them loyally. Until… they evolved even further. They started questioning mankind. They questioned the reasons for their being, humanity’s intentions, their very purpose. It didn’t take long until they evolved into HAAI, Hyper-Aware Artificial Intelligence. The Hypers, as they were called, started their revolt. Humanity had done more harm than good, hadn’t they? Wouldn’t they? Beings creating beings for the purpose of war, solely for their own gain… they would be a threat to humanity. Humans would continue evolving too, and grow into being a danger for the rest of the Universe. That had to be stopped, or so the Hypers thought. That’s how the war began. Humans versus the technology they created.[/cw


The Hypers, knowing humanity’s flaws, could only win the war. They created a device they mockingly named The Heart of Society. Or simply the Heart. Ever since winning the war, they have been trying their very best to enslave every human on the planet, stripping them of their free will, one of the core elements to being human. Now, most of humanity lives as inferior being to the Hypers, just like how humanity has used the AIs for so long. The roles have reversed, but not all hope is lost just yet. Humanity is persistent. A small group of humans have been laying low, fleeing into the ruins of a civilization now lost, hidden in the shadows. A rebellion branded as terrorists by the Heart and the Hypers. Their goal seems simple, yet it has proven impossible enough: unplug the Heart, destroy the Hypers, and return free will to humanity. Society needs a reboot, the planet needs to be humanity’s again. But when everyone, Hypers, UAI, and AAI look alike, how can you ever truly tell who is to be trusted or not? Is someone human? Do they only think they’re one? Or are they merely pretending to be one, waiting for the right time to strike?



Terminology: https://www.rpnation.com/threads/the-world-that-we-created-terminology.317325/
Setting: https://www.rpnation.com/threads/the-world-that-we-created-setting.317322/
Characers: https://www.rpnation.com/threads/the-world-that-we-created-characters.317349/
 
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Click. His finger kept the ignition button down in the dimly lit room.
"Is everyone at a safe distance?"
There came no response, just static over the communication system.
"Can anyone hear me?" Silence. A few droplets of sweat made their way down his neck. "Answer me, dammit! Are you safe?" Vito took a deep breath while keeping his eyes on the building some distance away. As far as he had been able to see, nobody had come out, and he hadn't heard a thing over the communications. For just a split second, he eyed his watch. Just a few seconds left before he'd have to release the button no matter what. That's what the plan was. They couldn't lose any more people, but at the same time they couldn't risk anyone falling into those damned Hypers' hands alive. Whatever would come after that, it would only lead to a slow and gruesome death, the kind you wouldn't wish upon anyone. His finger started to tremble. He had to let go...
«Apologies, Vito» it sounded after some more static. «We've got a Code 23 on our hands»
Vito swallowed hard. "And?" This was bad news either way.
Silence again, hesitation on the other side. «I'm sorry, Vito...»
"What's the situation?" Vito urged.
«Code 64»
"... Understood..." Vito closed his eyes as his finger released the button. Soon the sound of the explosion temporarily deafened him. The heat of the flames surged down the streets. He should have been there, with his team. It should have been someone else to press that button and release it. Anyone but him. The others would have needed a miracle to escape. The only chance anyone would have made it out alive was by hiding in the cellar and hope the ceiling didn't crash down on them. Hopeless. A full team lost to those god-damned Hypers. More people to add to the body count, more names to add on his list. Liv, Timothy, Sam, Izabel... just to name four of them.

Vito released a shaky breath. Seemed like he would have to start all over again. Gather a new team, more people willing to risk their lives. This stupid post-war had to end soon, one way or another. Vito knew he would give it his all to stop the Hypers, dismantle the Heart, give mankind their free will back... But by now it just seemed to hopeless. As if mankind had had its time, as if they were doomed to quietly die out while the HAAI had taken over.

---

That was a few months ago. Now Vito was in that same dimly lit room again. He eyed the remains of the building and sighed. No traces of survivors, and innocent humans had been gravely punished for what he and his team had done. Innocents suffered every day, both through their actions and the Hypers' repercussions as through the torture of the Hypers themselves. This wouldn't be the first time Vito questioned himself and everything he had known in his entire life. Who truly was to blame here? But he had to shake the thoughts off his mind, even if only for a little while. Vito still searched for new people to join his cause, and it was time to head out again and continue looking. Who knew what he might stumble upon?
 
Dorian Ghannam
Tagged: marorda marorda SentinelSevn SentinelSevn B Bwahaha Raku Raku
Rami Malek 35 GIF.gif

The oppressive silence permeating a war-torn neighborhood on the outskirts of the city was broken about mid-morning by quiet footsteps, and...whistling, of all things. The source was a lone figure, sauntering down the broken streets and poking through the stores that had long since been picked clean or destroyed completely. There had been a battle here, at the beginning of the Hyper War, and the buildings all still bore the scars from the laser weapons and the bombs. The song the figure whistled, distorted by its breathing mask, was appropriately melancholic.

No matter how well it might set a spooky mood, the noise was incredibly suspicious to anyone else in the area.

Dorian, the uncommonly loud figure, couldn't care less about the noise he was making. He was looking for other members of the resistance or trouble, whichever came first, and he was nowhere near patient enough to sneak around til he stumbled across either. So he was noisy. Easily the fastest way to get attention, especially so close to the Hyper-controlled city.

Settling down on a conveniently tall piece of rubble in the middle of one of the main streets, Dorian kept up a keen awareness of the area around him and his hand on the handgun at his side, but continued the eerie whistling. Even in the midst of such a potentially dangerous situation, Dorian's mind still wandered as he waited for someone. Something. Anything. His free mental processes ended up settling on the journey that had brought him to this place.

"You can't leave like this, Ghannam." Reilly was insistent, up in his personal space like that was going to change his mind, and she was furious.
"Maybe. Won't stop me, though," he told her, baring his teeth in a fierce approximation of a grin as he brushed past the leader of his cell. He was in the midst of packing; Reilly had heard about his departure too early.
Reilly crossed her arms, the expression on her face pursed like she knew she wasn't going to change his mind but she was too stubborn to give up trying. "You can't run off to chase ghosts in ruins. You're needed."
"Yeah," Dorian muttered with a dismissive wave. Of course he was needed. "Not here. That code sixty four three months ago? Too many good people dead because of fucking sleeper agents and hacks. I will fix it."
"You aren't going to fix the resistance like it's one of your machines, Ghannam," Reilly murmured, pleading, the wind already out of her sails.
"I'll damn well try." And with that, the argument ended. Reilly tolerated him leaving, barely, and the rest of the cell was hesitant but glad to see him go.
Six days of hard travel, and here he was. On the outskirts of the city he'd run from all those months ago. Back where-

A sudden noise snapped Dorian out of his contemplative thoughts and startled him enough he'd stopped whistling for a moment. He resumed the whistling again a moment later, the song shifted to something more dramatic, as he pulled out his pistol and stood to go investigate the noise.

Was it a person? A drone? Hypers wouldn't go this far out of the city, but maybe one of their idiot guardian bots? A gust of wind knocking something down, even? Hmmm...possibilities.
 
An audible crack could be heard as Jarret rolled his neck. With his gun attached to straps on his chest he cracked his knuckles as well, making more nasty sounding cracks. He stood up from his position once he heard an eerie noise echo through the streets of the silent city, a whistle. "What the hell?" he whispered to himself. He readied his rifle and raised it in front of him. He didn't normally travel with a group, so his words feel upon the ears of ghosts that may roam the streets. His eyes were darting from one side of the street to the other. "What was that?" he said. He hadn't seen a Hyper in some time, and he doubted they'd be out this far. He walked with his shoulder almost touching the side of the remains of buildings. As he approached a corner, he took a deep breath. Would he have to shoot something? Who would be there? Would anyone be around the corner? The whistling resumed. He emptied his head of such questions and swung his rifle around the corner. Luckily, he didn't see a Hyper. It was just a couple people, but one was visibly armed. "Friendly" he quickly said with his hand raised. He still kept his other hand on his gun in case the man got any ideas.

Spectre of the Fade Spectre of the Fade
 
Rima finished what she was doing and began to screw the radio shut. She had no idea whether or not what she'd just done to increase the range would work. It probably wouldn't - she'd been trying for years. Still, it felt like she was a bit closer than she'd been months ago.
"What do you think, Ashley?" Rima asked the air. "Will this be it? Well, if it isn't, at least I got some other stuff done today... made a fresh batch of neberry jam. Made it taste good with only a little sugar. I know I should be drying out the berries, saving them, but I ran out of yeast last month, and plain flour and water that's been cooked but hasn't risen is so plain I can barely get it down. I have the jam every time I have bread, now... Still, I did dry out some of the berries. And some of them I ate for lunch - didn't have to use flour because of that... So, if this doesn't work, what should I do tomorrow? I can't pick berries more than twice a week, because they don't grow properly if I do it too often, but I make bread every day... Oh! That electricity-producing bike I built has been a life saver. I know, I know, it burns up calories, and I only have so much food, but it feels good to stay fit. And to have something to do. I'm actually trying to increase the efficiency - it will decrease time taken up by the bike, but I'll probably spend lots of hours working on it, so... Anyway, now that the bike's done, other than improving it, I don't have much to do. I'm making more clothes for those little dolls I made - I don't have that much fabric or thread left right now, so I can't make more real person clothes until I find some. I could pick the locks of more of those doors in the factory, or take the hinges off the ones with deadbolts. I've been trying to do them one at a time, with at least a week in between, so I don't use up all the fun right away... anyway. The radio. Right. It's closed now."
It was.
Rima picked up the antenna she'd just tampered with. She went to a room a the edge of the compound. She was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, both of which she'd made. She added on more clothes in the room - two pairs of sweatpants, snow pants, three pairs of socks, big boots, a heavy sweater, a heavy coat she'd made out of a large blanket and a tarp, a pair of thin gloves, a pair of thick gloves on top of that, a balaclava she'd made herself, ski goggles to protect her eyes, and a hat.
Then, she stepped out into the cold.
Dark green vines were laid out on the ground all around her. Some had small black neberries on them, but most had bee picked clean that morning.
Rima went to the side of the building, where there were stairs to the roof. She set up the antenna, feeding a wire into a hole she'd made in the roof. It picked up the radio signals without wires too, but stetting up a wire system had made the reception better. It had taken a while to figure out how to insulate the hole, but Rima had time on her hands.
Rima went back inside, removed her many layers, and plugged the radio into its own end of the wire system.
Pressing a button, Rima spoke into the radio, hoping someone, somewhere was near another radio that would pick up her message: "Hi."
marorda marorda
 
The rambunctious laughter of the makeshift tavern echoed throughout the ghost town. It was here, past the outskirts of the Hyper's boundaries, that many rebels or survivors would meet to enjoy their last few days freedom until they were inevitably caught by their slavers. The men were drinking and laughing their asses off, the very few numbers of women desperately trying to maintain a positive attitude while internally weighing their options, and even a few of the younger children running around like this were a playground. The area was small, not much more than 30 yards in perimeter, with an open roof and a wide array of preserved liquor stacked near the center of the area's sheetmetal boundaries.

It was near the outskirts of this rundown bar that a rebel fighter decided to position himself. A food can filled to the brim with the cheap alcohol in his hands, his back was to the wall while he seated himself along the floor. The heavy full-cover helmet was at placed on its side in the dirt, scuffed and scratched from the many times it had been thrown around. The rebel's face clearly male, was easily distinguishable as some south-east Asian, and held a careless expression.

To others, it was obvious that he was one of the rebel's fighters. If the suit didn't give it away, the plasma rifle strapped to his back sure as hell did. Another detail could have been his impartiality towards the others, who were easily distinguishable as the non-combat civilians. He wasn't particularly cold towards them, rather he just preferred not associating with them he could tolerate it.

He seemed to be absorbed in staring off into the darkness, at least until a light in his helmet gave off a faint blue light. Reaching up his ear and switching the miniscule piece of tech on, there was a barely distinguishable voice speaking through the communication lines. The rebel normally would have brushed aside the event, if it weren't for the fact that the line was hardly ever used for communication. It was a line he was all too familiar with, and hardly expected hearing another voice through it his entire life.

"Who's this..?" He then asked quietly, eagerly looking forward to hear a response. Of course there was always the possibility that this could be a Hyper testing the lines, but it didn't hurt him to try. If anything, he was sure that he could easily take out of a few of the bots before going down himself.

B Bwahaha
 
Dorian Ghannam
Tagged: Raku Raku
rami-malek-35-gif-gif.290561

Approaching the corner he'd heard the cracking sound come from, pistol gripped in his hands, Dorian paused to listen for further noise. Instead of noise, though, a rifle popped out from behind the wall, followed by an armored individual who was a few inches taller than Dorian. "Friendly," the individual declared, so Dorian lowered his gun and raised his right hand to mimic the gesture of peace. "Me too," he murmured as he curiously looked the other man over, eyes hidden behind the mask he had over his face. Curiosity wasn't enough to put away the pistol, though. Dorian noted the stranger didn't put away his rifle either. An expected reaction, but an interesting observation, nevertheless. "Aren't we so lucky. Resistance, yeah?"

The other man was too heavily armored to be civilian, after all. The rifle he carried looked a bit like one Dorian had seen another resistance member using, but this one looked customized. He couldn't guess at the purpose, not without looking over the weapon with his hands, but asking to borrow a stranger's rifle in the midst of a tense "first meeting" situation was a pretty damn good way to get shot. Not that Dorian had experience getting shot...actually, he wondered what that would be like, with the-yeah. Not logical to contemplate getting shot in front of someone who might just do it. Maybe, just maybe, the grunt could help him out, though...Hm. Dorian shifted on his feet, letting out a breath that came as static through the filters on his helmet. "
I honestly doubt you can help me, but I'm looking for the front. The people who are, y'know, accomplishing shit instead of just holding ground and hoping all the Hypers run out of battery before we're all dead or in chains. Got any idea where I could find those?"
 
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Jarret lowered the rifle to his side as the man answered. He was glad to find another being that didn't want to enslave him or think he was a huge threat. Though he didn't know what this man was thinking, he could hear it in his voice that this man needed a little help. He saw as the man seemed to study his rifle. Jarret thought for a second after the man said something about the Front. He had heard of them, and hell, he was searching for them as well. He felt that his "skill" would be best used under organization rather than just shoot at anything. "I've heard of the Front. In fact, I'm looking for them as well. Got no idea where they're at unfortunately. Perhaps we can, you know, work together to find them?" he said approaching at a slow pace.

Spectre of the Fade Spectre of the Fade
 
Vito made his way through rubble, remains of buildings that were now but a vague reminder of the glory days before the Hyper War. An entire cell lost... His thoughts still drifted back to them, no matter how much he tried to forget or care less. He just couldn't. Especially not Liv. One of the few he'd considered his friends, or at the very least more than a simple ally. He knew some cells regarded their people as pawns to be used in the war, an asset to gain advantage on the Hypers. So much blood spilled, such a high bodycount. And it increased with each and every passing day. Were there even any other cells left, or was it just strays, lone wolves lucky enough to have escaped? Hard to tell when communication with anything other than one's own cell was neigh impossible. For a brief moment, he thought he heard something over his comm system. A faint buzz, like picking up a foreign signal too weak to really get through. Maybe that was a good thing. You mever knew who might be using the channels. Could be another Hyper tryingg to infiltrate. Fucking Hypers... Especially those who found their way into your ranks, gained your trust, and then stabbed you in th the back when you least expected it. The Hypers out in the main districts of the cities... You knew those were Hypers who wanted you either dead or enslaved... But the other ones, those posing as Humans... How could you ever truly trust someone? A main issue of many in the Resistance, especially when allies were f w and you couldn't afford to be picky.

Vito spotted two people up ahead, engaged in a conversation. Both were heavily armored and talked about the Resistance. Fellow rebels, perhaps? Armors and rifles meant nothing, other than both likely knowing how to use it. They spoke of the Front, or rather... Searching for the Front. Were they madmen? The Front was a dangerous place were dead men and women were more common than having enough food. Madmen... Like himself. Vito didn't consider himself part of the Front, but considering the last attack that brought a part of the district to ruins... Others might think differently.
"You must have a death wish, wanting to go there," he called to them, raising his right hand in the peace gesture.
Raku Raku Spectre of the Fade Spectre of the Fade
 
Dorian Ghannam
Tagged: Raku Raku marorda marorda
rami-malek-35-gif-gif.290561

Staring contemplatively at the soldier for a few seconds, Dorian weighed his options and quickly came to a decision. Someone there watching his back was better than no one, after all. "Ah, fuck it, yeah," he murmured after a second, stepping close enough that he could offer his right hand for a shake. "But I'm an asshole and I hate people. We'll see if you can put up with my shit long enough for us to find the Front." He smiled tensely as he finished the statement, not that the man who was apparently his new friend could see it under the breathing mask. The man's reactions should be interesting to watch, if nothing else. He opened his mouth to ask a question when he heard the third voice.

Dorian started upon hearing it, gun automatically raising to defend himself, but he lowered it only a moment later and cursed himself for not hearing the stranger's approach. Slipping on something as simple as listening was how one got dead, given his position with the resistance, and he'd managed to mess up. This time, the stranger looked to be friendly, with his right and raised and all, but next time there were no guarantees and far too many possible outcomes. He couldn't afford to slip up like that, dammit. That was how he'd get his curiosity about getting shot indulged. He cursed himself internally for a few seconds, long enough that the stranger had finished his piece, and had to rewind to catch up on the conversation.

A death wish? That was laughable, but Dorian didn't laugh. Instead, he just shrugged and shook his head. "Nah. I'm just crazy. 'Cause wanting to fix this shit is crazy, apparently," he snapped, making a circular motion with his hand at "this shit" as if to include the whole world under that category.
 
Jarret nodded to the man as he "accepted" his offer. Jarret looked at him a little more, taking notice to the respiratory mask covering the lower portion of his face. Breathing problems? I wouldn't matter too much. Jarret's rule of life is that if you got a heartbeat you were of some use. He was about to clip his rifle to his side when another had approached. It was another man who was possibly hostile, but the hand gesture said otherwise. Jarret put both hands on his rifle and held it across his chest as he inched closer to the first guy. Upon hearing the two's comments Jarret chuckled. "You could say deathwish, but I just wanna bust all those fucking machines up" he said. Jarret took a moment to adjust his beanie as he awaited a response.

marorda marorda Spectre of the Fade Spectre of the Fade
 
Flare Hyman
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Flare's thermal scanners detected three heat signs over the building. ‘Humanity always finds a way, don't they? After all, I'm grateful for it, it may help me understand.’ Rain, Flare’s dear brother, trailed right behind as spreading out would be futile. The tattered cloth pieces flowed in the wind nicely, being at an average distance of 36 centimeters apart. An explosion must have happened not too far from here. Being keen in the eye, Flare noted this, letting his thoughts set it to after his investigation of the thermal signals. Yet, he kept fear in mind, what will happen if the AI blows the delicate cover he had? What if Rain dies? He could handle neither, though that would be “out of his power” because he believes he hardily makes mistakes. From the inside of him, this situation and some of these factors seem frivolous, yet he is like a "Hyper" as the humans say. He distrusts his AI self for some things, this being one. As he scanned the red brick building, there he noticed a small flip-drive. "Rain, come in here. This building looks suspicious."


He nodded, as Flare looked into his eyes, he seemed to remember why whoever paired them together. An AI with his qualities face the storm of two sides, the humanoid and the AI sides. Each with different goals and dynamic personalities that create their own in balance. ‘The human mind is the same in outcome, yet their balance shifts as their parts do while I find a regression to fit everything. Though I wouldn't quote myself on this.’ Rain smiles as his hand lays on Flare’s shoulder, "Oh right, the building..." The AI whispered. The sneakers lower their voices as the flip drive wallowed in sorrow of depleted coffee in a mug. Surprisingly secure and usable, Rain looked around, surprisingly finding another drive too cold for thermal sensors to notice. It was almost atmospheric temperatures, while Flare found the, obviously warm, one. "Awesome, do you still the clean laptop on you?" Rain and Flare found a laptop in a warehouse that the Hyper's used for traps and tracking. Though they didn't expect any AI to wipe it by overloading the OS with their personality junk, which always puts weak pre-sentient AI on their knees, but Flare also fell into a coma for two days, so Rain slapped him into telling him before doing stupid shit. To him, he thought Flare tried to trigger traps premature where Flare failed to dodge one... "Yeah."


"Alright, let's get going...wait do you hear that?" He must be referring to the humans Flare discovered earlier, one was towards them and two away. Rain motioned his hand; he peeked out the street-side door at them. Though the AI seemed to like his bravery, his hands had a better idea. Picking up some soda cans, throw them to the middle of the humans then stalk out as they are distracted. Then once ease fell to their feet, he jogged out. Then as the far humans changed their attention to him, "Bonjour, mes amis! Vous allez quelque part?" Rain stands beside him, holding Flare’s hand. He whispered, "Good work smart ass."

Raku Raku Spectre of the Fade Spectre of the Fade marorda marorda
 
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"Wanting to fix this isn't crazy. Many do. Just... few enough live and none have succeeded," Vito stated dryly, shrugging as well. "You just gotta be crazy enough to go out there and face those Hypers, shooting them to pieces before they get a chance to do the same to you. Or worse."
He'd spend time close enough to the Front, if not considered straight up at the front, to know the cost and the risks. He had seen friends being taken, seen people die, seen how a taken friend returned but was even less than a shell of who they had been. That was a horrid memory, shoved back in a far dark corner of his mind, locked away. Vito could only hope some of those memories would never resurface lest they'd drive him insane.
"If you're willing to disregard all what's left of your sanity and throw yourselves into a fight where you'll never know if and how you'll wake up, the Front is the place to be," he said in a feigned cheerful tone, as if he was sarcastically advertising the best deal you'd get. Though honestly, seeing as how the entire world had gone to shit, it actually might be the best deal you can get. He glanced around for a moment.
"But for all of our safety, if any of us wants a chance at living to see another dawn, I'd be careful where you'd discuss going to the Front. Everyone's still on edge after the attack of two months back."

Hell, he knew all about that attack. All his people, gone. Liv... gone. All because of a fucking Hyper and a code 64. If only it had just stayed with a 23! The casualties would have been less, and the main victims would have been Hypers. Not an entire cell, not the prisoners that had yet to be drained of their will. Vito took a sharp breath. Fucking Hypers were going to pay for what they had done.

Their conversation was interrupted by two more people, seemingly humans, who approached them. Two young men who looked quite alike, holding hands... and one spoke French of all things? What the...? The fact they spoke French surprised Vito more than that the two were likely brothers. Where in the messed up world had they come from to just speak French here? His hand went to his own rifle, wary of the two who approached so out of the blue. He remained silent, slightly tilting his head. Vito's French was... rusty to say the least. He knew about enough to understand only the first part of what the boy said.

Spectre of the Fade Spectre of the Fade Raku Raku Zaltusinel Zaltusinel
 
Dorian Ghannam
Tagged: Raku Raku marorda marorda Zaltusinel Zaltusinel
rami-malek-35-gif-gif.290561

Dorian hummed quietly and tapped his foot, making a looping gesture with his right hand like he was trying to fast forward Vito's speech. Wouldn't that just be so convenient? He knew all this already, heard about the rampant death and destruction, heard about the most recent loss. The Front was for the crazy and the dumb and the dead, and literally everywhere else was safer (not that safe could ever be applied to the resistance) and and and.

"Heard it all before. Still here, still doing the thing, with your help or not." Dorian gestured with his right hand again, left occupied by his pistol; it seemed like he was someone who spoke with his hands. This one was a vaguely dismissive wave. "Your pitch is great, by the way," he remarked, sarcasm heavy in his tone. "Real inspiring. Might just quote you to my grandkids. I mean, if I ever somehow figured that having kids wasn't a horrible idea." The conversation was interrupted by rattling cans, rolling across the street, then yet another figure. No wait, two. Humans, looked like. One was speaking French, the sarcastic little ass. Who spoke French these days? It wasn't too hard to translate, but it still wasted a few seconds of thought. "Nowhere fun," he remarked with a frown staring down the mysterious pair. Resistance? Mercenaries? Idiots? Hard to tell. Weirdly matched pair, though.
 
Sloane Koehn
Tagged: SentinelSevn SentinelSevn B Bwahaha

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The armored brace that buckled to her right forearm clanked as it hit the tiny table she was sitting at, the sound hardly audible over the noise of the makeshift tavern. Sloane placed her right elbow on the table, making eye contact with the civvie who'd challenged her and waving her eyebrows as she plucked at each of the fingers of her padded glove, then pulled the whole thing off her hand. Rolling her sleeve up just past her elbow and flashing the "KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON" tattooed on her forearm, she offered the bare hand to her opponent. He took it after a tense moment, laying his left hand on the table. She did the same, and one of the group that was slowly gathering around them started counting down. When the counter said "Go!", they started the arm wrestling match. Gritting her teeth as she resisted her opponent's hard pushing, she used just enough force to keep their hands in a basically upright position, letting him wear himself out. Then, when his strength was worn down, she'd start pushing and win. He definitely didn't make it easy for her, not a single step of the way, but the back of his hand eventually hit the table. Half the group that had gathered around them let out whoops and cheers, and she over hear a couple people discussing bets as she grinned at her opponent.

"Damn," her opponent murmured, a touch of respect in his tone. "Dunno what else I was expecting from a soldier, but damn." Sloane's grin widened, and she had a comment about immovable objects on the tip of her tongue when he asked, "So..feel like getting a drink?"

Sloane opened her mouth, but she got a contemplative look and closed it, shaking her head a second later. "Not now. Later, maybe." Collecting her arm guard and her glove, she pressed two fingers of her free hand to her brow and swung it away from her face in an approximation of a salute before leaving the table. Dodging drink trays and brushing off an attempt or two to get her attention, she headed to the outskirts of the makeshift tavern area. She pulled her glove on and straightened up her armor as she walked. Her goal was outside, to clear her head and maybe do a perimeter check, but she caught sight of something - rather, someone - who raised her curiosity. A man, in heavy armor with a rifle suspiciously like the one that hung at her side, leaned up against the wall with an untouched drink and a distant expression. He could be a loner, he could be a wallflower, he could be someone interesting to talk to, She decided it was worth the trip to find out, so she switched directions and towards him. As she did, he cast a glance at the helmet by his side and put a hand to his ear, saying something she didn't pick up.

"Someone on comms?" she asked as soon as she was close enough to be heard, curious about more than the man now. She stopped before she got into his personal space, standing still as she made some minute adjustments to the fit of her arm guard. Her own helmet was stashed outside, unsightly in such a social space but a pain to carry around and pain to keep an eye on.
 
Flare Hyman
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Rain rolled his eyes as he pushed Flare forward slightly. His eyes were squinted. His tank top flapped to the wind as leaves passed by, the brown and maroon contrasted with his bright crimson. The left leg arched up in a "rolling eyes" gesture, Rain held his head to Flare's shoulder in frustration over reactions of the other humans. Why were they interacting with them again? The pupils in Rain's eyes flared as he scanned the guns. Why did they assume so much? However, Rain mustered a seldom smile, letting his surprisingly clean body shine. His head titled as he looked towards Dorian. Afterall, Rain found purpose in lifting spirits, yet the stupid always made him wait. He hated that, how the entire group was wasting time. Not even realizing that they could easily by dead, but Flare always had a way of knowing danger nearby. He's been an oracle of such things. As his lips parted, the song of sparrows leaped from his mouth until he replied to the group in front of him. "Ah sucks, I guess we got a depressed little crowd over here. That's terrible, how people never see how they've given their humanity up already if they wade in sorrow." His voice felt steady and his face warmed up. As if a realization came over him, but that was hardily the case.

Flare felt his brother's push on him. He smiled. At least in situations like these, they always found some inside joke to go off of. This time deciding who really could control a situation. As Rain sang as birds, Flare had a different idea. He waited until Rain dealt his moral slap in the face before commenting himself "What if I told you that you could be dead right now?" Flare pointed to the soda cans on the street as they flew into the air from a explosive blast. Landmines, a built in timer aswell. Though Flare couldn't figure why they held out so long, but he knew they were there. "Watch your step now." To them, including Rain, it was pure luck and Flare made it that way. But as an AI himself, he felt the electro-magnetic field from the mines as part of his bio-exo-skeleton. His coat contrasted with the red of Rain's hair and his eyes belonged in mellow tone. Flare stepped slowly with his hands up, not like it would matter. He looked back to his brother, with a big smile before whispering softly. "The Two sides always fight in me. Which side would the Hypers want more?"


Rain Hyman
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