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Post by Beowulf Keyes on Feb 9, 2012 20:11:49 GMT -5
MQ: I / Post-Revival Please Read Story Rules Before Posting
Setting: Osaka Pre-Drop Military Base, Scene of the Theft
Plot: A powerful new doomsday ray technology known as the Robotnik Protocal, designed to melt the organic brain and leave electronic hardware intact, has been reported un-accounted for. The information has been leaked to the GTC and most of the major gang powers, and a mad search net has been cast by both sides. Meanwhile, a dark exile comes from the newly constructed Zone, New Mobius, threating a future promising a torch in the Eternal Darkness...
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Post by Harbinger Of Darkness on Feb 9, 2012 20:13:44 GMT -5
The pocket was a whirlwind of painful lights and colors, and then....
Darkness, it was a comforting blanket, a childhood friend. Prower's land held little of the beautiful black. His purpose seemed void, Watcher of the Dark, but here in the Eternal Darkness Zone, it was the ecstasy of geas. The Evil of the Night spun under his mothers embrace, laughing joyfully. He fell to his knees in glee, tears of madness streaking his dirty face. The naked lunatic rose to his feet and yelled with the strength of insanity.
"The Darkness is Eternal, both here and New Mobius!"
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Kaze Falken
Thunder Force
Fist Of Thunder Force
Fangs of Neo-Tokyo
Posts: 52
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Post by Kaze Falken on Feb 10, 2012 2:17:33 GMT -5
((OOC: Why does the Harbingers avatar look like brentalfloss?))
Kaze stood at ‘inspection’ as troopers and engineers milled about moving weapons and supplies into a nearby Dinivas VTOL. The massive transport was designed with Thunder Force in mind, making it not only large enough to carry 40 troops but also fitted with enough firepower to level a good portion of Osaka before running out of ammo. Its only weakness was it wasn’t all that fast.
The mission the VTOL had been assigned as to seek out some Pre-Drop super weapon and secure or destroy it. Kaze had elected to head the mission personally; he had also chosen a select few distinguished subordinates to join him. The mission was optional and he wouldn’t be surprised if most of them opted out due to the ambiguity of the orders.
In addition his team would be joined by Colonel Rodick’s Power Armour Unit for heavy weapons support. The six T-52a clad troopers where already on board checking over their weapons to make sure they where in peak condition.
Kaze himself had opted for Neo-Tokyo security armour, a Liberator rifle and his oversized Enforcer handgun. Fingering the handgun he absentmindedly contemplated on when the gunsmiths would finish that custom 20mm handgun he’d asked for.
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Post by Beowulf Keyes on Feb 12, 2012 14:29:33 GMT -5
For all the fancy tech, the suited proffesionals, and the real coffee, forensic investigations were still probably the most tedious part of Beowulf's day. Standing around, stiffing corpses could only be fun for so long. The most heart-breaking part of this double-homicide, with a breakfast side of ritual mutilation, was that it was Beo's first day off in nearly a month.
The victims, Tracy Stanton and Peter Morgan, were Kast Korp skuldugers, who's job it was to trace the activities and wereabouts of gang leaders and "persons of interest". These two particular overacheivers were attached to the Contracts and Supplies unit, tracking a proposed super-weapon. If their deaths were any way an indication, Beowulf beleived the valiant desk-jockeys had found it.
Laying on the pavement, outside what Beo guessed was the apartment the two co-workers lived, were the bodies, both mostly intact. Pulzerized brain matter still pooled and slowly seeped from the corpses orifices, dribbling enexorably toward a nearby sewer drain. The skin on the cadavers faces had been cleanly stripped, something Beowulf suspected would take someone with a skilled hand to manage.
Beowulf shook his head in disgust. He had seen some nasty shit in his time, but this was so deliberate, so apparently pleasing to the unsub. Beo quickly finished his official report. According to onsite correners, time of death was about four hours before the bodies were found. They also suggested that some sort of sonic weaponry was used, as brain matter does not generally liquefy. A few final lines, and Beowulf slapped his clip-board closed, got in his company limo, and returned to his office, content to let the gallons of brains he had seen slip into the nauseum of the nine to five.
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Albel
Thunder Force
Carefree Confusion
Posts: 27
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Post by Albel on Feb 14, 2012 17:41:20 GMT -5
Still the newbie to Thunderforce, Albel was hesitant to hop around in his usual way before he really understood what was going on. All he'd really heard about was that this "inspection" had to do with something Pre-Drop. They meant before the Ark fell, didn't they? Then again, he didn't exactly understand that either with a blank slate for a mind. Maybe he'd just drop the entire "Pre-Drop" thing entirely and focus more on the fact that whatever it was they were searching for was dangerous.
That didn't really help his nerves. First order as a member of Thunderforce, he needed to cool the hell down. This was a rather difficult thing to do as he stood around inspection, looking more like a deer in headlights than a halfie dressed in armor that made him feel like a deep dish. It also didn't help that he'd been given a gun, rather than had a choice of which he wanted. He couldn't complain though. At least they'd given him a handgun and not one of those clunky assault rifles he dreaded having to lug around with.
It was a 9mm. The pistol seemed easy to use; iron sights lined up perfectly, the gun itself felt light, add a magazine full of hollow-points and Albel would probably have fun with his new little partner. Even with this comforting thought, though, he couldn't get over the idea that the other guys were making fun of him by giving him such a lowly little thing. They probably thought it was the only thing that he could handle with his small frame and lack of experience in the field. Things could be worse, and with his nerves in a wreck, it seemed like they almost certainly would. Someone tell me we've already got something, he mentally begged.
Another question he seemed to be entertaining; why was Thunderforce getting so much back up? The VTOL, the Power Armour Unit. What the heck could be so bad? GTC couldn't have been this...surprised? No, that's not the word for it. Concerned? Well, considering the equipment and forces being sent out, that was probably a better word.
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Post by Tsolanth on Feb 17, 2012 18:52:25 GMT -5
Tsolanth, as Shingen, leaned back against a heating duct on the roof of Hotel Kast and contemplated the instructions he’d been given. It seemed… wasteful. This Beowulf, acting as the most senior executive in the company was obviously very interested in this apparent doomsday device whose loss had gotten the teams and gangs into such a tizzy. Osaka and Neo-Tokyo were a tinderbox, soon to become a roiling conflagration of chaos as the various factions bumped into each other in their madcap pursuit of this thing. Admittedly, the idea of the weapon was both intriguing and alarming; many in Neo-Tokyo and Osaka alike depended on body armor to drag fights out long enough to protect them from ambush. More than likely the gangs would be the ones to use it prolifically, luring team squads into ambushes and irradiating them from afar. The teams likely just wanted to prevent that outcome, but there were certainly some militaristic wings of the GTC that would use it for the same purpose.
What then, was Kast Corp.’s objective? Obviously, to make money and acquire influence. How then could that objective be best served? The economies of Neo-Tokyo an Osaka were stagnant, so an arms race that accomplished anything significant was unlikely. However, Kast Corp. was served by a balance, rather than a preponderance, of power. That balance would be perhaps irrevocably damaged by the introduction of this particular death device, so then it must therefore be controlled by neither party. Obviously, neither party would take well to Kast Corp. controlling it, and if the company found it they would simply become a third faction in a brutal gang war.
The more Tsolanth thought about it, the more he realized that Kast Corp made out best so long as the device was present as a goal, but never actually found. And the only way to manage that was to find it quickly, and quietly, and eliminate anyone who knew that the Company had it. Two KC operatives had already left empty desks that Human Resources would have to clean out because their owner’s brain matter was staining the pavement. Tsolanth had little confidence in the ability of his scales to fend off the effects of the weapon, and with Kast Corp as apparently beggared by the incomprehensible ninety percent nosedive in the economy as everyone else, protective measures for whatever they might be worth did not seem to be forthcoming. The forensic report Tsolanth was perusing on his KastKom said little more than that two operatives had been put to pasture.
Someone had stolen it. That person was obviously neither with the gangs nor with the GTC but had an interest, similar to Kast Corp.’s, in their conflict and had leaked the information to both factions. The gangs would begin searching every nook and cranny in Osaka they knew could hide such a device, but it was a big city and that would take forever. The teams, led by Thunderforce, would storm the city meticulously and comb through every building, with plenty of firepower to back them up. Neither approach was guaranteed to yield results. Instead, Tsolanth, on Kast Corp.’s behalf, would follow the intent.
A man stepped into open air above Hotel Kast and began plummeting to the ground. Seconds later, enormous black wings carried the dragon above the clouds on his way to the Channel 0 News Headquarters. Ann Gora and her compatriots were in the business of information, and they were either going to become his path to victory, or his lunch.
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Post by Harbinger Of Darkness on Feb 20, 2012 17:04:28 GMT -5
A huge blinding burst of energy, a bolt so bright the Keeper thought his brain might melt with his victims. A thin-lipped smile spread across his face, exposing the wickedly curved canines jutting out of his mouth, as the Harbinger reveled in the agonizing pain that using the Robotnic Protocol incurred. It burned his hands, his eyes, and his mind, and it was ecstasy.
Eventually the orgasmic pain stopped, the lights winked out, and the Harbinger of Darkness found himself standing over his two victims. Gooey brain seeped out of the dead man and woman's ears, creating a swirly vortex of gray matter over a nearby storm-drain. The Harbinger licked his lips in pleasure. This had been fun, the Keeper of Death thought, but it hadn't been visceral enough for his taste.
The Evil of the Night unsheathed a foolishly long, curved ritual knife, wiping it affectionately as he drew it. He then began his work, striping the faces off of his victims. There was no better way to get under a person's skin, to see through their eyes, than to were their face as a mask.
After he had completed his horrific task, the Harbinger gazed about lazily. He noticed idly that the super weapon had disappeared. This was to be expected, as the Robotnic Protocol had a safety override, forcing it to teleport randomly within whatever zone it had been used. The Keeper was not worried, he would find the weapon again, and this time he wouldn't just kill a couple of bystanders and he knew were it was.
Osaka....
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Post by Beowulf Keyes on Feb 20, 2012 17:09:11 GMT -5
Posting For Hassan Hassan lumbered. Great bands of limber muscle flexed and groaned with toil, stretching and snapping with a brutal elegance. Flesh and sinew beat the ground, and a great rolling mass flung itself from escarpment to escarpment with great displays of animal grace. Hassan lumbered. Those who would have seen him, those you did see him, would only describe him as being some sort of monster, a great tan ape rollicking about through the skyline of the city. Buildings shook and squealed with fear as this savage primate mucked about. Pressing his knuckles to the cement, beating his chest, and otherwise exerting his dominance over all who paid the attention to be subjected. He was an animal, running through the Neo Tokyo skyline, flinging himself from rooftop, pressing paw to ground, and the skyline was a jungle, it was. Jungle's of concrete and glass were not an unwieldy analogue for this beast, that was obvious. He moved with a determined ease and grace regardless. And he was after something, that much was also obvious. His gait was that of pursuit, and Hassan kept a observant, adrenaline addled eye on the streets below. He was following something, someone. Or maybe he was just rambling about, that was the reassuring thing to think. The best one could hope, was that this monster was just a savage with no aims or goals, that he simply was a tool of force to be manipulated by more clever men. Maybe that wasn't that reassuring. It was also wrong. Because he had spotted his target, and to draw even further comparison to the jungle ape, Hassan halted, and rose up. All previous momentum coiling into his muscles, giving a kind of electric energy to his movement. He raised, fist off the ground, and beat his chest, powerful lungs and a hateful tongue sputtering a challenge to this city. It was angry, and proud. This was not for strategy, but for show, and Hassan was putting on a show. He was issuing a challenge. He threw himself down upon the streets below, a only a feather's breadth to fall for a hulk like him. He threw himself upon the cabin of a long white window, heading torward Hotel Kast. Such a drop would assuredly crush and lay flat whatever was in that limo. That was the plan. Beowulf would not be having a very relaxing day.
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Ann Gora
Proletariat
NPC Reporter
Ace Reporter
Posts: 2
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Post by Ann Gora on Feb 20, 2012 18:48:21 GMT -5
Ann sat cross-legged at her news desk, tapping her pencil furiously against the desk. She hadn't had a good story for quite a time, often she had been relegated to reporting dog shows and Boy Scout events. But not this time.
Sitting in front of the rabbit anthro, was a clean manila folder, its contents describing an immensely powerful super weapon, loose in Neo-Tokyo. She had to warn the populace, they would be the first ones the Gang would run down in their mad search. Just as she had put pencil to paper, Ann heard a viscous scream from the top floor. Ms. Gora stepped over to her window, opened it and peered upward. What she saw, nothing she had reported on could have prepared her.
A gigantic black figure, with huge leathery wings swept past the rabbit, tossing her to the floor. When she looked up, sitting in her guest chair, was a well dressed man, inspecting his nails.
Ann's voice broke audibly as she asked the most vital of questions, "Who the hell are you?"
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Post by Tsolanth on Feb 21, 2012 6:15:22 GMT -5
“Who the hell are you?!”
The last aspects of his shape as the man Tanaka Shingen slid into place and solidified, and eyes that slipped quickly from solid yellow to warm brown examined claws turning into neatly manicured nails. He looked up from this last aspect of his disguise at the woman in front of him.
She was still on the floor, this anthropomorphic rabbit whose face he knew so well from the news. She wore a long burgundy skirt that reached her knees and a close-fitting white blouse under a tan jacket. She was pretty, in an anthropic way, with her light brown fur and darker brown hair, but that did not interest Shingen. He stood with alacrity after letting her question hang in the air for a moment and gallantly presented his hand to her.
“My apologies, Miss Gora, I seem to have knocked you down in my haste to be on time for our meeting.”
Instead of taking his hand she levered herself to her feet and replied harshly “I don’t have any meetings scheduled, and even if I did, I don’t know who you are. So let’s get back to the topic at hand of who the hell are you?”
That attitude will cost you a limb if you’re not careful, bunny rabbit.
Shingen smiled warmly and skirted around her desk to pull out her chair. She scurried behind him and snatched it away, thinking it was his intention to claim her desk. Shingen acted as if it was his intention all along for her to sit, which in fact it was. He completed his stroll around the desk and eased himself gently into the chair he’d occupied at the beginning of their exchange.
“My name,” he said finally, “is Lord Stryke. I am an unofficial agent connected with Kast Corporation and I would like to propose a mutually beneficial swap of information. I can tell you something you would like to report on this evening’s news… regarding a certain weapon.”
Ann’s eyes widened and flicked instinctively to the manila folder still on her desk. Suspicious, she replied “And what’s this something going to cost me?” She knew how Kast Corp. operated.
“Just whatever information you have on this weapon and how its existence came to be known by the gangs and teams,” Shingen shrugged, “And of course, your guarantee that you report the information I give you on this evening’s news.”
“That might be a problem,” She smirked, “I didn’t get where I am by blithely parroting what any Joe Schmoe from Fuck You Incorporated says on television. If that’s what you’re after, channel 4 is about eight blocks away. You’re gonna have to give me good, quantifiable, verifiable evi-gkkk!”
The scaly claw wrapped around her throat caught the words before they could leave her mouth. The fine silk tunic covering Shingen’s body seemed to grow into a grotesquely disproportionate scaly arm rippling with muscles and ending in the massive claw choking the life out of her. Shingen slowly stood, and as he did, Ann was lifted out of her chair and several feet into the air, kicking feebly at nothing, and managed only to send one of her designer heels thumping to the floor.
“Perhaps I misspoke.” Shingen said tightly, “I already know that Ann Gora is going to report my tip on tonight’s news.”
As he spoke, the rest of his shape melted, shrinking several inches in stature. The white hair turned into just her shade of tan, and the stocky figure became more feminine. In less than a second, she was looking at herself, albeit herself with a giant arm covered in black scales and tipped with pearly white and incredibly sharp claws. She looked in horror at the impersonator and struggled fitfully against the hand that still let her gasp only a thin rasp of air. The temperature in her office climbed sharply, and she couldn’t tell if the haze making her vision swim was from the lack of oxygen or the heat.
“I just think it’ll be easier to get the information I want from you while all your parts are still connected to each other.” Her own voice threatened to dismember her, “But one way or another Ann Gora is going to say that an anonymous tipster has told her that the rumored super-weapon is hidden under the headquarters of Eternal Darkness in what was once the den of Tsolanth.”
Ann was running out of air. Tears were streaming from her bloodshot eyes, making a sticky mess as her mascara ran into the fur of her cheeks. Frantically, she nodded her head and mouthed yes. Shingen gave her another heartbeat to suffocate and then released her, gasping, to drop back into her chair. The high backed leather office chair bore the impact poorly, rolling out from under her and tipping over, dropping them both to the ground. Ann coughed harshly, rubbing at her throat.
“Now, Miss Gora, I’ve been gracious enough to fulfill my end of our exchange first.” His features were once again those of an older Japanese man, weathered and grandfatherly, with two perfectly normal arms. “With that unpleasantness out of the way, you will kindly tell me everything you know about this super-weapon and how you and the rest of Osaka and Neo-Tokyo came to know it.”
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