• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Futuristic Weird Wars: The Wulfhart Debacle

It was unexpected, to say the least. She had thought she'd been discreet enough, but apparently not. Then again, maybe it was better, having the awkward introductions out of the way. Of course, she'd never admit she had been staring, and especially not why. She didn't consider herself prejudiced, even considering what was going on over in Germany these days, but she was certainly more wary than she might have been in the past.


Still, she couldn't imagine the strange host would call them all together if he hadn't first been very cautious with screening them... and really, it could have been much worse. The fellow in the bandages was not one she was looking forward to meeting by any stretch.


Looking up at the man she smiled faintly, a brow raised upright at the kiss on her knuckles. It was an old world gesture, but one that was appreciated in her book, at least.


"...I've had better nights, I've had worse... Name's Maeve."
 
"Well, I don't mean to brag, but I can fix and pilot almost anything." Conner said. It was either that, or something else he didn't know about. "And since you seem to want us to ask why you got shot. Why did you get shot?"
 
Gwyn strode over to the first couple she saw and with a huge smile on her face and a heavily modified teapot. "I've fixed the coffee maker!" She declared with a grin, 'It makes delicious coffee now. you see..." There was about a minute of technical explanation. "And that means that you can taste Every bean." She paused for a second and took a huge breath and eyed the two for a second, grin fading. "Neither of you lot live 'ere do you. And I forgot to actually get permission to fix the coffee maker. Bugger."


@Beowulf @Elle Joyner
 
[@Nthtiho12, @Arstias, @The Cobalt Killer, @Beowulf, @theunderwolf, @Elle Joyner, @WinterPeach, @Elixanator ]


As the rabble of colorful strangers moved about the parlor, interacting and conversing with each other, suddenly, a voice rose above the murmuring chatter.


“Welcome, all of you! I apologize for the wait. I was needed elsewhere.”


Dr. MacCormick descended the ornate stairs into the expansive living area.


“Thank you all for coming, and in these foul conditions none the less. You are all no doubt confused and wondering why I have called you here. I am sorry for keeping you in the dark for so long, but this is a matter of British national security, and no doubt affects the entire world. But now you are all here, and all will be made known to you. But first the matter of Mr. Armani.”


He crossed over to the injured boy and put a hand on his shoulder.


“I’ve called a doctor, and they will come to treat your wound. Until then, my servants will prepare a room for you and make you as comfortable as possible. I will call the police on the morn and have them keep a lookout for your attacker, whomever he may be.”


Neil turned to the rest of the room.


“The rest of you, if you will follow me, we have much to discuss, and you are already tired. I will give you a short briefing tonight and the full information tomorrow morning.”


He led them up the stairs into a large, ornate room, at the front of which was a white screen. The group took their seats, and he dimmed the lights.


“What I am about to show you is a matter of the utmost sensitivity. What you hear must not leave the walls of this house. That said, I’m sure you all have many questions. I will answer a few right now, just to make sure everyone is on the same page.” 
Detective John Noir drove his Hudson Commodore Eight up to the massive house, the rain pouring down on the roof of the vehicle. Normally, Noir enjoyed rainstorms, but right now, the storm was beginning to torque him off. Conditions for driving hadn’t been great to begin with, but this dammned deluge wasn’t helping. The trip had taken him nearly seven hours from the hotel he had stayed at the previous night, and he felt sore, tired, and generally in a sour mood. “Gramps had better have a hell of a reason for bringing me here at this ungodly hour.


He parked, then opened his umbrella and walked up to the door and rapped on the frame four times in rapid succession. A butler answered, who showed him into a hallway. The servant offered to take his coat and hat, but John declined, and the man proceeded to lead him into a darkened room, where he took a seat near the back. Noting the ashtray on the side table next to his chair, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a pack of cigars and a lighter, then lit one and puffed the smoke into his mouth. “Ahh, licorice.” The familiar flavor calmed his nerves, if only a little.


As he finally relaxed a bit for the first time in many hours, John took in his surroundings. Who even were some of these flatfoots? He snapped out of his reverie as the man speaking (whom he assumed was this Dr. Cormack character, or whatever his name was) opened the room up for questions. At first John was inclined to demand answers, then decided against jumping in at the moment. “I sure as hell had better get some answers eventually though,” he thought to himself, “Or I’m not gonna be happy with this geezer. At all.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Watcher looked at the man, he seemed able to handle himself outside, unlike a few of the people here. He crossed his arms leaning against a wall, "I'm very curious as to what drove you to this meeting, let alone finding me for it."
 
The doctor's voice rang through the room, and for the most part, Kem had no trouble understanding it. She trailed along with the others, excitement bubbling over in her stomach, like unattended soup.


As the room filled and the lights dimmed, Kem could almost taste adventure at the back of her throat. This is was she had been waiting for, hoping, no, wishing of for so long, and now she would finally get it. But the flavours were quickly turning sour.


National security? What could a 19 year old girl, half deaf, half blind, whole useless have to offer in matters of national security?


Michelle looked to be the youngest there, besides the injured boy, and to the others, she possibly looked the youngest.


She was probably mad, but that was how the best adventurers were formed, madness, irrationality, bravery, and a touch of impulse. It wasn't the tasty soup of excitement, but victory is a sweet dessert, and who eats dessert before supper?
 
"The only thing I want to know right now is why you wanted all of us here." Conner said. They were all probably thinking it. The fellow that spoke before him said almost the same thing as Conner, proving it to him. If this was all just a waste of time, security or not, he was going back to his fathers garage and continue doing what he had always done.
 
Morgue noticed their host was finally coming down those stairs and he sighed in relief, as he was afraid this was some sort of trap for all these people seem like they have a dirty history. He wasn't really listening to the old man as he was trying to find something inside of his suitcase. When the group started to the leave and if anyone was keeping an eye on him, he had put something inside of his trench coat, but you couldn't really see what said object he put inside of his trench coat.


Making his way into the expensive room, again, he tried to find the most comfortable chair but it seemed all the chairs seemed the same and he still tried to sit on what seemed in his eyes the most comfortable. While he was answering questions, Morgue might as well ask the reason he actually come to this place. "I'm a chemist and how good is your equipment? As mine as seen some wear and tear."
 
When their host arrived at last, Maeve followed the others into the darkened room. She was anxious, but also curious. There was a reason for the theatrics, she was sure, but she was eager as the others to hear why they had all been gathered, and growing less than patient with all the waiting.


As the others asked their questions, she remained silent. All would be revealed soon enough, and the quicker they quieted down, the quicker they would understand the purpose for the meeting. It was intriguing, to say the least, and if they had indeed been called for specific reasons, well... she could only assume it had something to do with the impending war.


If that were the case, she imagined she was there because of her flight skills...


~~


Betty was initially reluctant to leave the boy's side, while the others left to join the host, but she was assured by the staff that arrived that he would be well taken care of, and so she made her way with the group into the dark room and found a seat near the front of the table. A million questions swam to the front of her mind when the Doctor gave them permission to ask, but every single one of them disappeared the moment she smelled it...


Licorice.


But it wasn't possible. It couldn't be.


Almost frantically, Betty turned her head to the foot of the table towards the entrance of the room and all at once, in the pit of her stomach, a swell of nerves roiled... Johnny Noir, in the flesh, and she, with no means of escaping, without walking right past him...


As if things weren't interesting enough.
 
Following behind the crowd of people into the dark room, he soon found an empty chair next to the redhead named Maeve and sat down. Soon enough, the older man who had apparently summoned them to this mansion was speaking in front, babbling on about the inevitable war. The white screen behind the speaker indicated they might watch a film, but what could it possibly be about? Günther knew almost nothing about the brewing conflict, so how could he possibly be of use to this man?


Briefly shaking his head, he dashed those thoughts out of his mind. It was then that Günther’s ears and soon his gaze turned to the various speakers asking questions. “Those Americans sure do not waste time in asking questions, do they? Humph, people in this country are so brash.” he pondered internally. But he did keep a mental note of the one who asked about chemistry equipment…maybe they would have to get together and talk about chemicals later. But for now, sitting next to the lady with the wine-colored hair would have to do. He wanted to catch her before she took off again, as he hadn’t introduced himself properly to her.
 
Neil turned to the tall fellow with the wrapped face. “Master Purdue, you can be sure that you will have access to the highest quality equipment that military funding can purchase. You all will have the opportunity to upgrade your equipment.” He turned back to the group. “As for the rest of you, here is the reason I called you here. That reason is Doctor Helmut Wulfhart.” He walked over to a table and flicked a switch. A projector began rolling, and a photograph of a man appeared on the screen.

<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_07/wulfhart.jpg.2f4a0a5c88d6c217d156e3d604c5328c.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="24845" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_07/wulfhart.jpg.2f4a0a5c88d6c217d156e3d604c5328c.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>




“As many of you know, tensions between Nazi Germany and many other countries, including the Americas and a good deal of other European nations, are rising. Adolf Hitler has clearly hostile intentions and is calling for a ‘cleansing;’ essentially threatening mass extermination. War is imminent. However, when Hitler took over the German army, it was already severely weakened from the Great War. Thus, he personally appointed this man,” he gestured to the photo, “as the chief Military Research Leader. Wulfhart is a scientific genius. Make no mistake, he is an absolute monster. Some of his past research projects have included a chemical gas capable of melting both steel and flesh, combining fetuses with altered insect parts on the cellular level to breed monsters, and temporarily raising and controlling human corpses using a combination of clockworks and modified homunculus organs. Yet despite his despicable methods, his work achieves overwhelming results.”


“Wulfhart’s discoveries could drastically change the result of a war. Unfortunately for us, he already has quite a lot of work already done and an entire branch of SS soldiers and agents under his command. Thus, the conventional military would have a very difficult time taking him down, and furthermore, his legal protection is too good to confront him in the courts, despite the overwhelming evidence pointing to his psychotic methods. The only way to take him out for good was to assemble a team of specialists to counter his movements. That is what you are here for. You all have been called here because your particular skill sets will be needed to help this group investigate, track, and ultimately sabotage Wulfhart’s activities. Some of you will work as pilots for the various military vehicles needed for our transport, or combat if need be. Some of you will work as researchers to cure and counter chemical and biological threats. Some of you will utilize illusion, façade, acting, and deception to gain valuable intelligence. Still others will directly take out key enemy agents with use of lethal force. But whatever your role, it may be the key element to preventing war altogether. If the Nazi war machine is weakened enough by our efforts, they may not risk an outright conflict.”


“Keep in mind that should you choose to accept, you will be paid amply for your services, and anything you might desperately need will certainly be provided. If you choose to decline, however, I will not be permitted to share any more information with you. You will be dismissed in the morning, and I will never contact you again. At this moment, I will pass around a document that outlines all the details should you choose to accept. If you wish to join me, please sign your name on the following sheet.” Dr. MacCormick picked up a clipboard from a nearby table and gave it to Mr. Northegun. “I will also answer any additional questions anyone has. If you wish to decline, please exit the parlor, and you will be shown to your rooms. Make your decision now, and think carefully about it. The fate of our entire society could hinge upon it.”

 

Attachments

  • wulfhart.jpg
    wulfhart.jpg
    5.5 KB · Views: 38
Maeve listened with rapt attention, both curious and horrified at the information the doctor presented them with. The atrocities he suggested were enough to turn her blood to ice, but then, when was war ever a pretty thing. Still, it was a little surprising to find that she, of all people, had been called there for so specific a cause... for so important a cause. And while her heart beat like a tribal drum, she could hardly wait for the pen to reach her grasp, so she could sign the sheet.


Maybe it was folly. Maybe it was dangerous, and she wouldn't live to see the end of it. Maybe it would turn out to be a load of crock, and they would all go home disappointed, but she couldn't walk away, not when the risk ran so high...


She could never face her father, knowing she had the opportunity to save the world and decided against it. It beat sitting at home, watching men go to war for her, anyway.


"What the hell..." She murmured softly, scribbling her name on the page, "Not every day you get a chance to be a hero..."


~~


Betty was, admittedly distracted, when the doctor began his explanation. It wasn't until the slides began to roll that she looked up, a brow quirked when he continued, describing the nightmarish man whose face appeared before her. The things the man was being accused of were horrendous, but Betty didn't doubt for one moment that they were also a hundred percent true. She had seen the hellish things men were capable of, and knew there were very few limits...


Frowning softly, she looked down when the page came to her to sign. It was a lot to ask, and she was certainly no soldier. She was good at what she did, one of the best, if she weren't trying to be humble... but how could illusion and manipulation stop a man from destroying the world? What use would she be, in the end? And could she really, truly say that she was willing to risk her life for the unknown? For a question mark?


But the answer was obvious. She had faced death once before, and been granted another chance... and she knew, deep down in her core, that she could not in good conscience walk away from this opportunity, when that second chance may have been given specifically for this cause.


It might not have been her war to fight, but she wasn't going to be the one to walk away...


Taking the pen, with something of a sigh of resignation, she signed her name and passed it along down the table.
 
Watcher listened intently, if what this man is saying is true, a much greater villain is in the midst, anything he could do inside the nation would be for nothing if this man was allowed to continue with his ways. In the end this is all he ever wanted to do, stop the larger villains, he could never fit in the army or police to much limitations, this however seemed very open to 'interpretation'. He looked over the contract, he wasn't so into rules or regulations, but the opportunities were to great, he signed it and sighed. "Hope I don't regret this."
 
When Conner got the contract, for that's what it was, he hesitated. He could back out, go back to his family garage, one day own it. But this was for something greater than himself. So, carefully and deliberately signing his name, Conner guaranteed that the next few weeks, months, or even years, would be dangerous. Would he regret it? Maybe. Did he think that it was the right decision to make? Absolutely.
 
When the paper slid in front of Michelle, there was already a long list of signatures, names and scribbles.


She hesitated longer than the others seemed to. Her 'talents' hardly counted as skills. Did she really want to be tied to this endeavour, being next to useless?


Michelle slowly rose from her seat, pen still in hand. She frowned and stared in the direction of the doctor, his face blurred but identifiable.


"Why me?" Her voice was loud, though abet not intentionally. "You do realise what's wrong with me, don't you?" She spat, suddenly filled with detest.


They were mocking her, she was sure of it, being as self absorbed and self conscious as she.


With a sharp flick of her arm, she tossed the pen across the table, splattering ink over its surface.


She roughly palmed her watery useless eyes and glowered at each face she could focus on spitefully.
 
Gwyn muttered for a moment about how little she cared for those blasted colonists before speaking up, "I'm in if I can build and test walkers. And possibly punch that guy. he bothers me. Could be the glasses. or the hairstyle. or the affront to all things decent and scientific that he has flagrantly displayed. Still could be the glasses though. And I fixed your coffee maker and have yet to be thanked."
 
Conner stared at the two women. One was crying over something and the other was babbling about building and testing walkers as well as hitting someone. Deciding to do something, Conner turned to the crying one, "I don't know what you are talking about, but if you don't want to be here, there is the door." he said as he pointed to the door. "Or, you can stop crying and sign that contract."
 
As Günther settled in to listen to the older man’s lectures, he subtly took a head count of all the people there. “Wow! Whatever this assignment is, this man sure needs a lot of…well, frankly odd…people.” He pondered in his head. Truly he had never before seen such a rag-tag team before. What could possibly be their purpose?


That inquiry was soon dashed from his mind though, as the older gentleman began speaking again. It wasn’t long before an all-too-familiar face appeared on the blanched white screen: it was Doctor Helmut Wulfhart. Günther’s cold grey eyes widened and his heart sank at the sight of the man. He’d seen that doctor before…was it a lecture, or a seminar or something like that? He couldn’t exactly remember where he’d encountered the now feared doctor before, but it was a while ago, before Wulfhart joined up with the Nazis.


It took Günther a minute or two to snap out of it and come back to reality, but once he did, the horrifying truth about that mysterious doctor came to light. Günther carefully listened to what the speaker was telling them, and was both intrigued and horrified at the same time. Sure, the scientific achievements made by Wulfhart were interesting and revolutionary, but the costs were too great. Who in their right mind would do such things to human beings?! The information brought forth seemed to be getting worse and worse as the older gentleman described Wulfhart’s experiments and agenda further. Günther could feel himself tensing up, folding his hands into fists and biting his lip, trying to hold back his anger. 'How dare this bastard do such things? He’s an embarrassment to the scientific community as a whole!' his voice roared in his mind.


Eventually the long-winded speech ended and they were given further instructions. Günther only had to mull over this idea for a moment before deciding what to do. He’d sign the piece of paper. He had to stop this man, if only to purge the maniac from the community of scientists. This mad doctor had to be stopped, plain and simple.


Having made up his mind, Günther patiently waited for the paper to be passed along to him when some sort of commotion broke out amongst two women. It seemed like one was upset over something personal and the other started asking questions about mechanical things. Then this one young man, who seemed like he couldn’t wait to pounce on the women with harsh words, spoke up. Whipping his head around to eye the offender, Günther decided to step up for once. With a firm scowl on his face, he stood, faced the man in question and sternly pointed his right index finger at him. “You, sir…are out of line!” he bellowed, “No one talks to women like that while I’m here. Now stop making an arse out of yourself and shut…your…mouth.”. The last three words had a dead-serious tone to them, daring the other male to make a move. He then lowered his pointing arm and folded his arms behind his back, awaiting the inevitably juvenile rebuttal.
 
"If she doesn't want to sign it, she doesn't have to cry about it to." Conner said. He may have been rude, but it was the truth as he saw it. And he was never one for drama. She said something was wrong with her. Well there might be, but she was chosento come here. He probably knew that when he invited her. Hope he expected the drama that came with her, because that looks like what she brought.
 
@Elle Joyner


John sat brooding in the back of the room as he listened to all that their host had to say. As the Doctor continued to describe the situation, his mind began to wander. “Something doesn’t seem right about this Wulfhart guy. Something about his eyes…” He realized with a start what was wrong.


Years ago, John had worked a case in which a series of murders occurred within the space of a few days. The victims had all been subjected to what seemed to be an extremely violent surgical procedure, and were missing multiple organs entirely. When he finally caught up with the killer, he had already inflicted wounds upon himself. The man was broken, and spoke nothing but gibberish until his last moments, in which he whispered to John, “Beware the god of Death and his followers. The gray angels are coming.”


Later, the autopsy revealed huge traces of a psychoactive drug, tests of which yielded astounding results. The unknown drug had the ability to induce a hyperevolved version of the Sight that affected both the senses and cognition of the user. It’s most noticeable physical indication was its effect on the eyes, but the drug, and its origins were never traced. Noir officially considered this case unsolved.


John recognized the same traces in the eyes of Dr. Wulfhart. His mind sifting through the possibilities, but could only settle on one: The two were somehow connected. Right then and there, John commited himself to the task Dr. MacCormick had set before them. Something had to be done about the maniac, and he might be the only one who could truly figure out the truth. He took another mouthful of smoke as the contract made its way towards him. Then when a row broke out between some of the guests, he placed the cigar back between his teeth and stood up, attempting to settle the tension.


“Fellas, ladies, please, calm down. No need for any of this.” He turned to the hysterical young woman and tried to reason with her, speaking in a low, calm voice. “Look sweetheart, I don’t know what’s wrong, but Doc did say that you’d have any special accommodations you might need. It’s not like he’s going to throw you out for whatever that problem is. He doesn’t look like the stupid type to me, I’m sure he did his homework.” John then turned to the rest of the squabbling people. “And as for you all… For god’s sake, keep your pants on! Things continue this way and we’ll end up with knives at each-others necks, so why don’t you sit your backsides down and all act like civilized people. Signing a contract really aint that hard. Watch.” He bent down, picked up the pen, and placed the document on the table near his chair, then began to sign his name. As he finished the “R” in Noir with the quick flourish unique to his signature, he briefly glanced up at the others who had signed the paper before him as one name in particular stood out at him.


Erzsebet Weiss.


John froze, all of his suave and composed demeanor gone. He felt weak at the knees, and collapsed into the chair. “Betty is here.” His head spun. How? How was this possible? He slowly rose to his feet, scanning the faces of the crowd, and finally alighted upon a familiar blonde head. Looking towards her with a shocked expression, he managed to get out a small fragment of speech.


“Erzsebet? But…why?”


He sat weakly back into his awaiting armchair, and rested his forehead in his palm, brought low by the ghost from his past, and spoke no more.
 
Torrence knocked on the door as the wind howled and torrents of rain fell on her. "Hello? Let me in! The bloody rain is getting heavy!" She pounded on the door with determination. "Hello? I know I'm a little late, but making a Lad wait out in the rain is ridiculous!" The door slowly opened up and a run of the mill butler gave her access to the warmth of the home. "About time, ye fool. Now where's me 'ost?" She took of her gloves and rang them out. "Lead the way now sir." She followed him to the home of her host. "Sir, Ms. Torrence Adams." He said a little sardonically. She stepped forward. " Hello sir, the name's Torrence, though my pops called me Tory. Though I suppose you know my name, don't ya? Seeing as how you invited me here."
 
@Willow Blackthorn


Dr. MacCormick turned to see the newcomer enter the darkened projector room. "Hello Miss Adams. I apologize for the inconvenience, but I've just finished explaining the situation to your future colleagues. However, I will have Reginald fetch the case file, so that you may become acquainted with what will be asked of you. Until then, I must intervene in a small spat. Therefore, please have a seat, and I will send for refreshments. Do you care for tea?
 
Maeve looked up when the commotion began, surprised by the outburst from the girl, but not nearly as surprised as the one that followed, from the gentleman who sat beside her. Maeve's father had always taught her to speak her mind, but he had also instilled in her a sense of knowing when it was best to keep one's mouth shut and she couldn't help but thing it was a lesson that fellow could have learned, as well...


But she needn't say anything. When the German came to the girl's rescue, Maeve glanced over at him, a brow quirked in approval. She had misjudged him earlier, based only on his appearance and she was wrong for it. Clearly, he was a better man than most, to defend a girl's honor like that in a crowd of people. It was admirable, to say the least... Attractive, even.


When he sat down again, she leaned in with a smile, her voice soft enough that only he would hear her, "So chivalry ain't dead, after all, hmm? Well done..."


~~


During the ordeal, as the throng of guests began to unravel, Betty tried with all her might to appear small and unnoticed. She had signed the contract, and so she was obligated to stick around, but there was a slight chance that she could get out of the room without running into him, and if she could manage that, well... it would be one awkward endeavor avoided, at least.


But when Johnny stood up to lecture the crowd she was sure she'd been caught


But then and her cheeks flushed crimson as she did all she could to avoid the man's piercing gaze And so she thought she had managed... But then he reached for the contract and she realized her mistake, even before he had spoken again.


Her name breathed out and she watched him sink back into his seat. She wanted to explain... she wanted to give him some sort of reason for her being there, for everything that had happened since they'd last met, but all she could manage was a soft, mortified murmur, "Hey Johnny... Long time..."


Lame.
 
"Tea sounds right nice sir. And I"m sorry about being late. Things came up that had to be dealt with post hast." She smiled at the Dr. She had to turn her head ever so slightly to the right to hear him.
 
"Very good then. I will send for it immediately."


Not long afterwords, another servant brought a large portfolio with briefing information and a saucer of piping hot Earl Grey Tea to the chair she was sitting in. "Here you are madame."


OOC note: See his lecture post for the contents of the folder.
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Back
Top