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by **Sonata** on Fri Oct 24, 2008 7:20 pm

The Break Out
Chapter One

There was the sound of fingers rapping away on keyboards and the many phones within the cubicles ringing off the hook. Surrounded with stacks of paperwork in the In and Out bins, he had been filing out a few system reports and glancing frantically at the lime-green numerals on his digital clock. The flashing colon pulsed along with his heart as anxious perspiration wetted his face. The sweaty individual was named Cael Boyer, a worker in the tertiary service world of Turpis—a slave to the Security and Surveillance sector. This was not his dream nor was any job most people got in Turpis theirs either. When a child turned eighteen-years old, in the old days, the kid was so excited for he or she could get their driver’s license. Instead, now, the child would not only get his or her driver’s license but be issued a job card and would be trained and educated in nothing other than that profession.

Glancing away from the clock, Cael sat back in his cushioned chair and rolled over to the opening in his cubicle to peer up and down the aisle. Rolling back to his desk, he gazed at his reflection in the monitor and ran his tongue about the wall of his right cheek, pulling from behind a flap of tissue [that he carved out himself] a steel shaving razor that he clinched delicately between his teeth. His fingers rose and removed it and watching the clock flash to 10:10PM, he stood from his chair and left his black coat upon the seat; it was time. His work bag, his laptop, his wallet, everything he owned but the razor in his hand and the cell phone in his trouser pocket was abandoned. Where he was planning to go, such things were of no use and to have them was a risk. He strolled leisurely past the other cubicles, avoiding eye-contact with acquaintances.

As the bathroom neared access, he felt a curtain of relief wash over him, settling the hairs on the back of his neck and calming his goose bumps. "Hey!" His heart stopped and his eyes widened in startle. His throat thickened as he slowly turned around, putting on a casual face as he would face the masculine voice that hailed him. He said nothing as he stared at his employer, the man giving him a condescending smile. "And where do you think you're going?" his boss asked.

That was an easy question. "Bathroom," came the reply, and there came the suspicious look. He didn't stick around to remain in its presence as he reached out a hand to push open the bathroom door. He bent over to check every stall, making sure none were occupied before flipping the lock on the door. His hands then rested upon the cold porcelain sink and his eyes gazed at the handsome brunet in the mirror—which would be an overstatement. No, what he saw was a scrawny, coke-bottle wearing, loser. Even he admitted it!

'Are you ready?' he thought. Reaching up, he removed the tie from around his neck and tossed it in the sink and unbuttoned his undershirt down to his collarbone. Softly, his fingers began probing the lithe muscles of his neck, his chin rising until he felt the hard square shape of a foreign object. His eyes did their best to peer at the mirror as his fingers traced the object. Giving two readying breaths, he lifted the razor, held his breath, and then dropped his attempt, grasping the sides of the sink and laughing facetiously, “You can’t do it. No; I need to do it. I got to.” Taking another breath into his lungs, with two hands, he grasped the small razor and lightly, gently, delicately, slid it along the lump in his neck. Nothing. Exhaling in relief, his hands returned to the sink as he stood there for a moment. ‘I got to psyche myself up. That’s right’ he mused. Cael stared back at the mirror and gave his reflection a hard glare: the glare of a warrior. He could do this. He was Cael Boyer. He took two years planning this escape and now was the time to do it. This time he would do it. He could hear his heart throbbing in his ears and his lungs were just as nervous as he was. His eyes widened and his lips tightly clasped together as his left hand eagerly trembled.

Cael sliced a quick slit across his neck. His teeth and eyes clinched tightly as the cut began to ooze with blood. His collar was stained and it wasn't over yet. Dropping the razor into the sink, Cael’s left hand grasped his neck as blood welled from beneath his palm. He sank to his knees, resting his forehead against the porcelain basin as tears bubbled at the corners of his eyes. The wound was stinging and burning, how was that possible? His mouth opened and silent screams left his throat on quivering breaths as he further leaned over, crying pathetically, “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He breathed rapidly through his nostrils and closed his eyes. “Come on Cael, you can do this. It’s not over yet!”

While the pain still lingered, he lifted his fingers to the slit and began pushing the lump down until the black chip shown halfway. Getting a good grasp of it, he held it between his index finger and thumb, and whined bitterly. He just wanted it to be over. Cael gave it a good yank as a long black skeleton wire, extended to have the chip dangle down his neck. Crimson bled across the front of his undershirt as he swayed dizzily and closed his eyes to regain his focus. The chip was still dangling from his throat and someone began banging hotly on the bathroom door. The brunet opened his eyes and finished yanking the chip out, the wire-end ripping free to display its red, blue, and yellow roots. Dropping it on the floor, his nerves gathered in his stomach and carried his stress into his throat. Bile poured from his mouth, rolling across the white tiled floor. A hand went to his stomach as he continued to spew until his insides were dry and wringing out like rags. Coughing, he rested the side of his head against the sink once more and closed his eyes, panting softly after his whole experience.

The banging stopped and Cael exhaustedly opened his eyes to peer cautiously at the door. He needed to leave. Taking the back of his hand across his chum glossed lips, he wiped the remnants on his undershirt and slowly rose to retrieve his tie from the sink. Once on his feet, he strode over to the bathroom window, unlatched the locks, and forced it open. He then stuck his head out to feel a cool up-draft comb through the layers of his hair. 'God...' he thought. He was at least thirteen stories above the street.

There was the rattle of keys coming from behind the door. It was the janitor but Cael wasn't going to hang around. Carefully climbing out the window, he held onto the sill for dear-life and lowered his feet upon the edge. 'I shouldn't have worn loafers today' he griped mentally. ‘This is better than sadism at least.’ After mustering some courage, he scooted over to a drainpipe, hugged it dearly, and began climbing his way up to the roof. As he went, he could imagine the drain breaking like they did in the movies. Only he hoped this situation wouldn't be like the movies. Fortunately, it wasn't as he climbed up and over the edge to slump against the wall. Closing his eyes, he gave a relieved sigh and dug into his pocket to remove his cell phone. He did a speed dial and balanced the phone between his ear and shoulder, while tying the tie delicately about his neck. As the ringtones played into his ears, he rose to a crouch and peeked over the edge at the glowing open window of the bathroom. Someone answered. "Hey. Yeah, the guys and I are having a get together over at the bar. Don't tell the wife. Hope you can make it. Later." Hanging up, he slapped the phone closed and threw it against the ground as it exploded into the many parts that formed the device. "Here we go.”

The big screen was black as security moved about the facility, barking orders to assistants, and flipping through long ropes of papers. The IDM (Identification Monitoring) facility was the busiest facility in NOAH. Every employee there was responsible for organizing identification codes and inputting them into the super computer. To make a mistake meant not only the layoff of assumed-to-be suspects, but also the slaughter.

Identification chips would go off by the dozens. The nightmare was just about to happen. The screen lit-up and an alarm wailed throughout the facility as thousands of I.D. codes blazed over the monitor and the ones in red were collected into a dark box to the right. Security personnel froze in mid-step, staring in pale disbelief. "No," one gasped. That sent the men and women in white shirts scurrying about the facility like lab mice. Communications was instantly dispatched as they filled the radios of the Turpis police and soldiers with the news. The officers that were changing shifts put the change into full-gear for they weren't exactly normal officers. Some were droids that changed shifts at 10:30PM with other droids that had more power for the night. This was a disaster.

Climbing down the-fire escape ladder, Cael dropped down into a dingy puddle and moaned, "Not my shoes. They cost me ninety bucks!" He then remembered that nothing but the skin on his back would matter now. He gazed down the dark alley to the lit street to see police vehicles zipping by. There were more than needed to assume that a robbery or some small-time crime was being committed. NOAH must know by now; which meant he couldn't waste any more time. Keeping shrouded within the darkness of the alley, he took shortcuts and arrived at Bertucci's—a small Italian bar and grill. ‘Right on time’ Cael thought with a smile. Bertucci himself was waiting on him. They both knew that there was no time for greetings. "Do you have the equipment?" asked Cael.

Bertucci nodded with a confident smile. "Everything is in place. I got enough ammunition for you to turn Turpis into Swiss cheese."

Cael grinned softly and waited by the dumpster in the shadows. "I just hope that people responded to those letters. I also hope they won't rat us out." There was nothing more he could do but wait and hope that all the ammunition awaiting his resistance would not be just for him alone.

by **knock** on Fri Oct 24, 2008 8:01 pm

Samuel brushed past the denizens of Turpis,his heart beat with anticipation and the glory of it all.He stopped right at Bertucci's his heart hammering he had started towards the door when he heard the sirens.The hairs on the back of his neck went flying up and his eyes shrunk with fear,but he let out a sigh of relief when they rushed past him.Walking into Bertucci's he nodded at Bertucci and walked into the kitchen looking for a steak knife.When he found on his hands trembled,he tried to waste time by looking at the manufacturer Release express.Oh,the Irony Samuel put the knife up to his neck and in one clean motion cut off the top layer of his skin.

Pulling the blade back he did it again and again each time letting out yelps of pain.When he stopped he had ripped off all of the skin on and surrounding the chip,He gritted his teeth for this but realized it wasn't going to work and walked over to the paper towel stand and stuffed his mouth with them.Then gritting his teeth against the paper towels he pulled at the chip.It didn't come out he felt the pain,he let out a muffled yell but it just didn't come out.Ignoring the blood on his shirt Samuel gripped the chip and ripped it out spitting out the paper towels and letting a solid stream of blood start splashing down his neck,but some tape and a few more paper towels later he had the wound in his neck under pressure.Slumping into a chair he took a breath and let out a single word"Ow."

Staggering back into the main part of Bertucci's he looked out into the night"Are there any more coming." he asked.His eyes darting around until he saw a scrawny looking man with brown hair looking like he had a seizure.They don't know what I can do where I am or anything about me anymore.he thought.

by **Leila Aarons** on Fri Oct 24, 2008 8:20 pm

Nervous steps were gently heard across the carpet of the small apartment as Fayela paced, holding the small knife in her hand. She had gotten the letter in the mail, the letter that would save her life, as she saw it. But first she was required to remove this chip which caged her to this hell of a place. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the knife a bit, looking at her white knuckles from having such a hard grip.

"Come on, Fay...you aren't such a wimp." She softly encouraged herself, and went to the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror. The cold blade of the knife went against her neck, but again she hesitated, grimacing a bit at her reflextion. Her hands were trembling, and she was afraid she would cut too far and kill herself.

"Nonsense." She mumbled, almost seeming to laugh at herself. Five nervous deep breaths later, she finally cut into the skin below the chip, clenching down on her teeth but unable to stop herself from yelping. Already the blood was dripping down, and she watched it as it ran from her neck. She didn't care that her shirt was getting stained, more focused on the blood.

Steadying her hands on the counter, she set the knife down, no longer needing it. Fayela felt dizzy and a bit light-headed, but managed to regain her composure enough to work the chip from her neck, getting it out soon enough. She quickly grabbed something to put pressure on the wound, that something turning out to be a washcloth. Good thing she had left herself plenty of time to get to Bertucci's.

Finally, she was steady enough to leave her apartment, bringing only a few things with her, and nothing that could be tracked. She heard sirens, and made sure to stear clear of the police if possible, getting to her destination at exactly 10:30. Fayela really was quite punctual, especially for important things such as this. Upon reaching the restaurant, she entered and saw a few others there, grinning faintly at them. As of now, she had yet to get her voice back after cutting into her neck like that, so only gave that grin and a small nod as greeting.

by **Near** on Fri Oct 24, 2008 8:26 pm

Gabriel Titus Llewellyn, that was my name, or as far I knew. I was taken in young, NOAH themselves training me for death, training me for the inevitable. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm not even sure of Gabriel Titus Llewellyn is my real name but most just call me G.T. I would advise that you do to. At this moment in Turpis, I am no more than an "Officer of the Law." A man that is no more than of militant background and does what he is told, but you want to know the truth? I'm a liar just like the rest of you. I wasn't even really caring for my job, robotic systems were taking over more and only a few well footed men had the job he did. Lets just say it was luck.

The letter was slid in my pocket, it's origin was practically unknown to me, I didn't know who sent it but I knew what it meant. It was freedom, escape from Turpis, a life to do what I wanted and not to be controlled. I didn't want to kill anymore, I didn't want to do my job; I just wanted to do what I could to protect everyone from Noah and let everyone have their own path. Life wasn't always this bad. I remember a time when things were fun, having no worries and growing up a happy, giggling, child. Though, like usual, War changed that. People died, things happened, I was a survivor. Though, to be honest, I would of been better of dying. Even Hell was more inviting than Turpis.

Standing at the corner of the street, my radio system was going off, "We..." Some faint hissing in the background, a little static, nothing to worry about. "Attention all officer personal. The IDM has encountered a major problem. Be on the look out for anyone with severe cuts in the neck and throat area. We have a breach, chips are going off by the dozens. We order anyone with their chip remove to be interrogated then immediately killed." Killed? Was that a joke? Several officers on the other line were complaining, some were ready for the job--stone-cold killers. I wasn't like that, they deserved a chance, we all deserved a chance, I, deserved a chance.

Taking out the letter and rereading it several times. . . the resistance was coming. Would I agree to join, would i forfeit this, premature death as an option for my deeds? You bet your asses on it. Moving the strap over to my SMG, making sure my pistol was loaded and loosened from my holster, I took out my large knife from the small sheath on my belt. Playing with it in my hands, dousing my radio a bit as I lifted it up, "Officer 5-6-3-2. Report." Lifting it up, "Rodger that. Chip devastation. . . primitive." Grinning as I lifted the radio and broke it off a wall, watching it smash as I knew I only had a few minutes to do what I had to do.

Pressing the neck to his throat, knowing I had to be very careful. If I messed up, I would die, which again, might actually be a better option but lets just see what happens. Pressing it closely to my flesh, fearless as usual I went deep, knowing precisely how close my Jugular vein was from the chip, so I was careful. . . before choking a bit. Pulling my knife away I touched my throat with a slight muffle. Walking close to a store window, looking up as my neck burned from the sudden movement, I could see it. A bleak black as I pressed my fingers into my throat and took a hold of it, pulling with all my might until finally it came loose with wires dangling from the bottom of it. Pressing my hands around it, it shattered it my hands, broken.

"Bastards..." I chocked, pulling out some gauze from my bag, I wrapped it tightly around my neck and halted from speaking any longer. Starting to walk now I stopped as one straggler droid lingered to me, "Intimate threat. Chip. . . disengaged. Specimen, Gabriel Titus Llewellyn. Primitive thread: Affirmative." Sighing, "What a fucking lucky day!" I commented to myself, guns being little more than useless against this thing. Either you would use metal similar to its own body structure or your hands, I preferred my hands.

Running at it, quickly head-on before jumping up and kicking it against a wall, it picking itself up before I slammed my elbow into the top half of it, wincing as metal rattled my bones. Holding my elbow, I covered its eyes before it started off in one direction, "Affirmative. Affirmative. Affirmative." The piece of junk kept repeating as I lead it into the direction I wanted to go with the easiness of my hands. Reminding me of old TV shows as they held out a stick with food or other such goodies dangling from it, leading their opponent--mindless combatant usually--in the direction they would like. An easy lift really. Sadly I don't have any TV shows I can recollect so I couldn't really give you a plausible way of what I mean. Not like you would see the clip of what I'm talking about anyway. Just imagine a child and taunting it with its favorite toy, most times, it follows you until you give in.

Arriving at Bertucci's, ripping some wires from the droid's neck area, kicking the thing a few inches from Cael, "Am I late?" Out of breath and holding my stomach, staring at my uniform as my gauze was now stained with blood. I ripped the NOAH logo off of my uniform with a grin, removing my cap to reveal my short Auburn hair; at the same time my icy blue eyes began to shine more than usual, giving them a bit more space and open air under my musty cap. My features were lush and a bit playful and jokingly my lips curved into a smile. After what just happened I thought my body deserved a little rest.

by **KungFu.Chinaman** on Fri Oct 24, 2008 9:56 pm

Shale checked his watch. It read 2210. It was time, at least according to the nonsensical text message that he had received a month ago. Smiling to himself, he went and looked through his binoculars again. He was a sitting on the top of an apartment building about 1000 yards from a place called Bertucci's Bar and Grill with his faithful M107 perched on the ground next to him. He had recently received a new assignment from NOAH. They wanted to him to "take care of" someone named Bertucci who owned the aforementioned bar. They never told him why he had to "take care of" these people, merely that they were threats to the public. Shale knew otherwise, and tonight was going to be a different story. Tonight, it was time to fight back. He wasn't going to senselessly kill people because the government told him to anymore. He took one last, long look and turned away.

Working efficiently, he pulled out one of his throwing knives and made a surgical incision about half an inch below his cartoid artery. There was a lump there that he knew was full of sensitive electronics which could kill him without the aid of a lead bullet. He groaned a bit as blood seeped from the wound, but he surged on, shoving two fingers in and wrenching out the chip. A long strand of red, blue and yellow wires trailed from it, still attached to him, but he ripped these out too, then crushed the chip into bits of e-waste with the heel of his work boots. He groaned some more and passed out.

It seemed like forever, but Shale came to quickly. He looked and realized that there was a lot of blood on the floor. No matter, he thought. He checked his watch. It read 2212. He had to move fast. He picked himself up and carefully packed his rifle into the guitar bag next to it, taking caution to make sure it wouldn't jostle. The sniper pulled on his long jacket and slipped on the guitar bag. He made a quick check and found all his gear (Desert Eagles, knives, shuriken, rifle, etc) still in place around his body. He walked over to the fire escape and raced down the steps. The last set of steps was folded up, but it made no matter. Shale vaulted the fence and landed cat-like in the alley 8 feet down. He had to move fast. His watch now read 2213. He smiled insanely to himself and sprinted down the long alley. Within two minutes he found himself standing in front of Bertucci's.

"Am I late?" He queried Cael with an exaggerated checking of his watch. It read 2215.

by **Lunar Eclipse** on Fri Oct 24, 2008 10:01 pm

Tick. Tick. Tick. If anyone had looked into one of the windows of Sylvia M. Arkwright’s room, they would see what was expected of a girl who had canceled all plans that day by calling in sick. She lay motionlessly in bed, staring blankly at the old-fashioned clock on her bedside table. But of course, she wasn’t sick in the least, unless one considered the abnormal amount of adrenaline coursing through her veins as a side affect of an illness. Being physically fit and rarely ever ill, she probably caused a lot suspicion by claiming to be too unwell to do anything that day, but there was no way she could go about her day normally with all the anxiety and excitement rising up inside of her. So instead of bracing to endure the many questions of suspicion and/or concern for her strange behavior, she just pretended to feel extremely unwell and avoided the whole thing all together.

As the second hand ticked away, the minute and hour hand finally shifted to a concrete position. 10:00 PM. The time mentioned in the letter was half an hour away, was it too early to be getting ready? She didn’t know, but she got out of bed anyway. As she walked out of her room, she rubbed her neck. She felt two lumps, one wasn’t physically there and was only a mere effect caused by over-anxiety making it difficult to swallow. The other was the solid square chip implanted in her neck.

Sylvia walked into her kitchen and took out a bottle of painkillers. She took out two pills and swallowed them quickly with a glass of water. Then, she took a fruit knife from a drawer and headed for the washroom.

Standing in front of the sink, she was mildly surprised to find her reflection in the mirror staring calmly back at her. She thought that now of all times was when she should look very scared or freaked out, but apparently she was either a lot calmer than she thought she was or had become better at suppressing chaotic emotions. The knife in her hand was extremely sharp, she’d sharpened its edge to perfection when she got the letter. The idea was that supposedly a sharp blade wouldn’t be as painful as using a blunt one, not that she ever had the chance to try it out. She was fine with blood, but she really didn’t like the idea of pain. The pills she took earlier wouldn’t be much help either, at least not physically. She hoped her mind trusted the drugs enough to create the illusion that it wouldn’t hurt as much.

The girl let out a deep breath and brought the edge to her neck. She stared intently in the mirror and concentrated on the feeling of the cold edge until it came in contact with one of the sides of the square bump. She wanted to close her eyes, but that would’ve been dangerous. Here goes, she thought, No turning back now. With one fluid motion, she cut herself just above the chip. She took a sharp intake of breath as the wound began to sting. It actually wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it would be. Then bringing her hand up to the wound, she dung into the slit and pulled the chip out. Now that hurt! She heard abnormal ringing in her ears, but she was taking this a lot better than she thought she would’ve. Her mind wandered off momentarily until the chip and steaks of blood in her sink brought her out of her minor daze and attention back to the situation at hand.

“Right.” She muttered, and opened the medicine cabinet hanging on the wall opposite of the mirror. She didn’t bother with the cotton balls and instead just poured the entire bottle of disinfecting alcohol on her neck, and immediately regretted doing so. A string of profanities left her lips as she gripped the edge of the sink in pain. “That smarts, that REALLY smarts!” With tears welling up in her eyes, she quickly unraveled a gauze bandage and wrapped it around her neck. It wasn’t very neat, but it would hold for the moment.

There was blood, and a bit of rubbing alcohol on her shirt but she didn’t care. Sylvia ran out of the house and only stopped once to grab her coat. She hastily put it on as she ran through the streets and took a pocket watch out of her coat pocket. Checking the time she muttered, “Cutting it a bit close.” It was at times like this that she really believed she’d done the right thing by abandoning the academic course she’d wanted in childhood, she was a lot more fit now. She ran the entire way there, ignoring the angry people she almost ran into.

With her location in sight, Sylvia finally slowed down a little as she entered the alley and took deep breaths. Seeing the people already there, she quickly muttered a greeting and leaned against a wall. She let out a sigh as she rubbed her neck. Though she wasn’t too fatigued from the run, it had made the throbbing in her neck worse.

by **XianEvermor** on Sat Oct 25, 2008 6:28 am

THUMP! Seviryn landed on roughly on the floor of his tiny upstairs apartment, his beat red face nearly matching the hue of his reddish brown hair. His hands were splayed on the floor... a poor position to be in over all with the smaller man on his back, and his adams apple securely in the crook of his blond haired younger brother's arm. The younger man chuckled fiercely as he asserted his superiority, Seviryn would tap out at this rate!

"Now's... grrk! ... ya chance t'give in, Alex," grunted Seviryn as he tried to throw his weight to one side and the other unsuccessfully.

"Not a chance, this is the first of MANY victories against you!" His younger brother cackled with delight as he controlled his weight to counterbalance Seviryn's attempts to throw him off. Seviryn shifted beneath Alex again, securing his hands under his chest and keeping his neck taught so he didn't black out. He used his brute strength to push himself off the floor with a surprised squawk from his brother, then quickly looped a foot around one of Alex's legs. He dropped, twisting as he did so and slammed his brother hard against the floor, loosening his death grip on Seviryn's neck just enough for him to break free... The downstairs neighbors would complain again, but neither of them cared. For the moment Alex was lamenting his overconfidence and Seviryn was capitalizing on his brother's mistake.

Seviryn pressed the advantage and used his weight to pin down one of Alex's arms, grappling his free leg fiercely and pressing down on Alex's windpipe with his free arm. Alex flailed, but was in such an awkward position that he couldn't regain his balance or break free, and after nearly a full minute of struggling he went limp and tapped out. Seviryn let him go and for a while they just laid there, staring at the ceiling with cheesy grins plastered across their red faces, coughing and trying to catch their breath. There was a dull thump coming from the floor beneath them and screams from their downstairs neighbor. After a while they both burst into laughter.

"Sounds like we pissed Lucy off again."

"Eh... let th' bitch wail. She leaves her garbage out in front o' her door an' it stinks up th' whole stairwell. Ya did good! Nevah think ya won outright. Overconfidence makes ya let y'guard down," he commented, then slapped Alex soundly on the chest and hopped up to his feet, stomping loudly on the floor several times. "PISS OFF LUCY!! AN' THROW AWAY YA FRIGGEN GARBAGE!" Alex snickered quietly as Seviryn moved to the sink to wash his face and make an attempt to untangle his hair when a curious noise came from his bed.

"What's that?" Alex questioned from his spot on the floor, still recovering from their little wrestling match.

"Alarm. Gotta meetin' t'night. Bunch of us are gonna get t'gether, drink beer, talk political bullshite and ultimately do nothin'... maybe get hosed an' vandalize security droids, ya know... nothin' you should be interested in." He leaned back on the sink and grinned at his brother when his company radio squawked from the other side of the room.

*Attention all officer personal. The IDM has encountered a major problem. Be on the look out for anyone with severe cuts in the neck and throat area. We have a breach, chips are going off by the dozens. We order anyone with their chip removed to be interrogated then immediately killed.*

"Crimeny... I gotta go!" Seviryn rushed past his brother to the closet at the door and pulled out his security jacket, throwing it on as fast as he could while he strapped the holster containing his three barreled carbine around his waist and slung his M4 haphazardly over one shoulder.

"Bro, what's going on?" Alex was on his feet and rushing to get his shoes on when Seviryn shoved him roughly back into a chair.

"Some shite is goin' down. You stay inside an' if ya don't hear from me you know what t'do. I have t'go 'cause it's me job, but likely they're killin' anyone who looks out o' place. Stay inside, understand?" He got back up and started for the door again. "Ya don't hear from me inna week, ya stick t'tha plan. Follow tha instructions I left ya t'the LETTER!" Alex nodded gravely, but still got up and tried to follow his brother.

"But..."

"But nothin', Alex! Don't be stupid! You stick t'the plan, an' STAY INSIDE!" Seviryn slammed the door and heard it lock behind him as he stormed down the stairs. He nearly tripped over several filled bags of garbage in his haste. He muttered a few choice swear words and pounded on the door of his downstairs neighbor.

"GARBAGE, YA USELESS LUMP O' FLESH! I ALMOST BROKE ME NECK!" He hopped over the obstacle, but paused before he got to far, deciding it would be morally bankrupt to not warn her of the potential danger outside, regardless of how much he disliked her. After wrestling with his conscience, he climbed back up and pounded on her door again. He grinned a bit as the lady behind it shrieked angrily at him from whatever room she was in. "Don't go outside t'night tho!! Uh.. t-... terrorist activity!" Yeah... that's the ticket. Sounded official and would probably scare her enough not to go outside and get shot.

Seviryn ran down the street for a couple blocks, his heart thundering in his chest as he ducked down an alley. If Seviryn was anything, it was an athlete. It wasn't the running that had his heart pounding, it was the realization that the cryptic letter he'd received a month ago might not just be a beer and bullshit session with a few disgruntled servicemen that hate the system... it might actually be real. Honestly, he'd been planning for something like this for years: stashing away non-perishable food, money, and arms in a secret location which only Alex was aware of. He never thought someone might instigate a revolution... mostly it was just the inward hope that the system would eventually implode because of it's own inherent flaws. It was a logical hope, right?

It took him less than twelve minutes to run the two miles between his apartment and Bertucci's, leaving him about ten minutes before the actual meeting time was supposed to take place. Seviryn ducked into the shadows behind a dumpster two buildings over and leaned against the wall, taking deep controlled breaths to bring his pulse down and work out a little of the adrenalin in his system. Couldn't go in there with shaking hands, in case he really did need to shoot somebody. He felt the heat radiate off his face as he checked his rifle, making sure it was fully loaded and operational before he slung it under one of his sweating armpits and unholstered his Carbine. He unlocked the breaches as quietly as he could, looking down each one before pushing a .357 caliber round in each of the openings and snapping it shut. He checked his watch: 10:25pm... now or never. He kissed one of the foot long, wolfs head motif barrels and quietly made his way to the corner so he could look into the alley behind Bertucci's. There were already some people gathering... who he surmised was the restaurant owner and a... a... He wasn't sure how to describe the other man. Thin and gangly, coke bottle glasses.... the kind of guy Seviryn routinely shoved into gym lockers during high school.

Must be the criminal mastermind... He grinned a bit to himself, suddenly starting to feel amused about the whole thing. Noah was getting it's panties worked up for... for some Star Wars fan boy? It was almost too much. He was getting ready to leap into the alley and make the poor guy shit a brick when more people showed up. Okay, maybe this is as serious as they're making it out to be, especially after overhearing their talk about weapons and turning Noah into swiss cheese... he started thinking that maybe suffocating little Jimmy in under his armpit and locking him in a two foot square space until the janitorial crew set him free wasn't such a fun idea after all. He crouch-walked his way back around to the other side of the building so he could get closer without being seen, then holstered his carbine, shouldered his M4, and approached the dumpster as stealthily as he could.

At precisely 10:30pm his watch beeped to signify the passing of the half hour mark. He was half way out of the shadows with his rifle leveled at the group and his cold blue eyes piercing each person in turn, trying to take a tactical assessment of the situation. He eyed the bleeding neck wounds most of them had covered up. Under normal circumstances he'd have gunned them all down from the shadows before most of them could react, but there was something in his gut that told him not to... not yet. So there he was, with weapon leveled and his trigger finger resting on the safety currently in the OFF position. His hair was disheveled, his NOAH security force jacket open, exposing a sweaty white undershirt that clung to his well defined chest and abs. He'd obviously gotten there in a rush, but he wasn't breathing hard... the voice of his superior squawked from the radio hanging from his hip, angrily demanding an update... and he had a steady aim on the head of Cael Boyer.

"All right... One o' ya needs t'tell me what th' fuck is goin' on, ya ken?"

by **PhoenixFlame** on Sat Oct 25, 2008 10:22 am

It was 10:35pm, and she was late. Damn it, why had this happened? It was so important that she be at Bertucci’s by 10:30pm, not after that. And while being late by five minutes might not be that big of a deal in other situations, it most certainly was this night. However, she had no one to blame but herself. She should have just allowed the time to pass her slowly. She shouldn’t have tried to speed it up by being more zealous in her work just because the hours passed by more quickly. But, for Pete’s sake, when she had received that letter, her heart had leaped into her throat, and she knew, she knew, that she was almost through with this place. She was almost through leading a ridiculous half-life that denied her any happiness. It was almost over. It was almost over, and she was late.

The reason she was late was because, in being suddenly ardent in her work at the military hospital, she had drawn the notice of her Superior. Now, if Turpis was a good place, and not a horrid, wretched, stink hole of filth, this might be a good thing. Turpis was not a good place though. It was a horrid, wretched, stink hole of filth, and so it was horrible that she caught his attention. She could see it all over again, even as she turned a corner and slipped into an alley, she could remember what had happened.

She had just come out of surgery, and was quickly scrubbing down. It was 9:30pm. She was going to take her break, and on her break, she was going to get rid of the chip that bound all citizens to Turpis whether they liked it or not – and, rest assured, most of them did not. After throwing her dirty scrubs aside, she had left the surgical unit, and started to head toward the bathroom. Earlier in the day, at the beginning of her shift, she had stashed away all the items she was going to need to remove the offensive object. In spite of all her careful preparation, she was stopped just as she had her hand on the door to the ladies room, by a soft spoken baritone, “Dr. Clark, are you busy at the moment?”

She had turned to settle her eyes on Billius Jones, the Hospital Executive. This couldn’t have come at a worse moment. She tried to think of a lie, but her brain short-circuited, “Um…uh…I was just going to go to the restroom.”

The man’s watery blue eyes looked at the door her hand was still on, and then flicked back to her, “Yes, well, if it could wait, I have some matters I would like to discuss with you. It’s about your work around here this last week.”

She had instantly felt like kicking her own ass. She forced her face into a very serious, slightly perplexed expression, “I’m sorry, Sir? My work? Is it dissatisfactory?”

Mr. Jones shook his head, “Quite the contrary. Actually, these past few days have only further made me realize how very much potential you have.”

She really had wanted to get out of that situation, “Sir, I really have to pee.”

Her boss’s brow had perked, “That’s all fine, but you can hold it. I’m speaking here.”

It took a lot of will for her to not narrow her eyes. The people in Turpis that were higher up on the ladder than the majority always walked around with Entitlist-like attitudes. As if the whole world should bow down to them and give them whatever they asked for. Fucking self-righteous pigs. She had pulled in a deep breath and resigned herself to her fate, only hoping that she would still have plenty of time. “Of course, Sir. Pardon my interruption. I’d be happy to hear whatever it is that you are wanting to say to me.”

Billius Jones had finally shut his vacuum of a mouth and let her go “pee” at 9:55pm. She now carried the title of Senior Registrar, not that it mattered in the slightest. The man thought he had just done her a great honor. Instead, he had simply held her up. Once in the bathroom, she’d grabbed the floor sign that declared the bathroom out of order, and set it outside the door – after having made sure the hall was clear. She’d then locked the door, once she was sure the stalls were empty, and then went for the left behind supplies she’d hidden in the cabinet under the sink that was usually holding extra cleaning materials, plungers, towels, toilet paper, and soap. She had sighed in relief when she had seen her two black bags were still sitting behind and under the towels. She’d lifted them out, set them on the sink, and then pulled the smaller one closer to her, and opened it up.

Inside the bag were only a few, but very important, things: a scalpel, an atraumatic needle with suture, iodine, a local anesthetic, a small pair of forceps, and bandage. Being a doctor, Emma was far from queasy, so it was with no troubles at all that, after removing her lab coat and shirt and setting them both aside, and spreading some of the iodine on her ivory skin, she had pulled the cap off the needle holding the anesthetic, pierced her skin right next to the chip, and pushed the handle in. Once her skin had gone numb – a matter of seconds – she had deftly lifted the scalpel, and slid it across her neck. She felt incredibly morbid doing this, almost as though she were committing suicide, but her feelings on the matter had not stopped her. Setting the blade aside, she had grabbed the small forceps brought them up to the incision, and pushed them into the wound. With her free hand, she felt for the chip, and once she slid it into the forceps, she had lowered that same hand to reach over and grab a few napkins from the dispenser hanging on the wall. Holding the paper up to her throat, she had brought the forceps and the chip out of her skin with a gush of blood. Thanks to the anesthetic, she’d felt nothing.

Emma had watched her reflection as she placed the chip and forceps in the napkin on the counter, and then had reached back inside the bag to pull out the needle and suture. She was a fast sewer, and the wound was clean. It had taken two stitches, a quick knot, a little more iodine, and then she was putting the small bandage on after using wetted down napkins to wipe up the blood on her flesh. She’d slid her arms back into her shirt, buttoned it up, and made sure the collar hid the bandage before she had put her lab coat back on as well. After that she had cleaned the sink, the counter, the floor, her tools – shoved those back into the small black bag –, and then took the used napkins, with the chip still wrapped up in them, over to the toilet where she’d flushed them. Returning to the sink she picked up the small bag and put it into the bigger one – after removing several things from the bigger bag and putting them on her person within her lab coat. Holding the bag by the handle, she’d turned, went to the door, unlocked it, and slipped out into the hall.

“Oh,” Emma’s head had whipped around in the direction of the voice, her eyes wide. She imagined she looked like a deer caught in headlights. She wasn’t very good at this inconspicuous concept. A nurse she didn’t know the name of was standing a couple of feet away from Emma, looking at her peculiarly.

“What?” Emma’s voice left her a bit shaky. Her nerves were all tangled up. She felt like, if pushed, she would just snap.

The nurse shook her head, “Oh, nothing. I just thought it was out of order,” and she pointed to the floor sign Emma had set outside a few minutes before. “The door was locked and everything.”

Emma realized she hadn’t even heard someone trying to get in. She made herself look embarrassed as she lied, “I don’t feel that well. I just…I don’t like people to see me sick, is all.”

The woman’s face lost its confusion, and was replaced by a wide, knowing smile, “Honey, I know what you mean! But thank God that bathroom is in working order. I have to pee like you wouldn’t believe!” and the nurse had pushed by Emma and disappeared within.

After that, Emma hadn’t had any interruptions in leaving the hospital, nor the grounds it was kept on. So, here she was, late, moving as quickly as she possibly could without drawing attention to herself, but it could never be that easy could it?

“Halt!”

Shit. Why her? Emma halted in her path and turned to look at the man approaching her. He wore the traditional uniform of someone that worked for the police. Great. Just great. Like she wasn’t late enough. What if they left without her? But he wouldn’t leave without her…would he?

“Yes? Is something wrong, Officer?” How much damn ass was she going to have to kiss tonight to just get done what needed to be done? As soon as this question passed through her mind she knew she’d do whatever she had to do to get to Bertucci’s sometime within the next damn century.

“I need to look at your neck,” replied the officer.

Earlier, she’d told the nurse she had been sick in the bathroom. Now, Emma really did feel like she was going to be sick. Her stomach twisted up into knots and she could taste bile on the back of her tongue. She let out a small laugh, as though the officer’s words were ridiculous in some way, “My neck? I don’t understand.”

“Just do what I say, Ma’am, and there won’t be any problems,” the officer was getting closer to her.

She peered over her shoulder, and – could you believe it? – she could see the lights of Bertucci’s. What God had she offended? She could run for it. But if she ran, she couldn’t run to Bertucci’s. That would lead the officer there, and leading him there would be leading him right to all the others that had him on alert: those without chips, those who were finally going to flee from Turpis: The Resistance. And she couldn’t do that. She’d rather die here and now then put all those people in danger. She straightened her back, forced her fear into a corner of her soul, and faced the officer, defiance gleaming in her grey eyes. “No.”

The officer actually stopped and, even though the alley was dark, she could see that his eyes had narrowed, and his body was tense now. His voice was a growl as he spoke, “What did you just say?”

“I said ‘no’,” she answered quickly, and then she spitefully added, “What? Are you mentally handicapped? I wouldn’t be surprised. You seem to enjoy your work. Anyone like you…they must be severely lacking in intelligence. Let me say it again so that your small brain might comprehend: no.”

Before she could blink, the man was on top of her, she was falling, and the back of her head cracked on the asphalt. Her vision went fuzzy, and an irritating buzzing was ringing in her ears. She wanted to close her eyes and lose herself to the blackness, but she knew that if she did that would be the end of her. There would be no redemption for her. Only Death. She forced her brain into submission. Her eyes came back into focus, and despite the fact that the big man was now tearing at her shirt to see her neck, she lifted one of her hands and reached into her lab coat. Her fingers grasped around as she searched for the items she had pulled out of the bigger bag.

“Well, lookie here,” the gruff voice came from above her, his stinking breath wafting down into her face. She forced herself not to gag as he went on, “a bandage. I’m going to guess that means you don’t have a chip. And do you know what that means? That means I get to fucking kill you. You’re not all high and fucking mighty now, are you, bitch?” And the back of his hand slammed into her jaw so hard her vision went blurry again. She would not back down. She was not going to lose here. Not when she was so close. “For your little insult, I’m going to choke the life out of you. What do you think of that, hm?”

Her fingers found them. One…two…three…four…five…six…seven. Seven! Number Seven. She pulled it out of the small pocket she’d made for it, slid the cap off, and, as his fingers started to close on her throat, she choked, “R-ed.”

The man halted, “What?” His hands loosened, and he glared down at her, “What did you say?”

“I said ‘red’, you fucking idiot,” and she brought her knee up in between his legs. The man let out a very violent, very loud curse as he fell off her and to the side, holding his crotch. She immediately rolled to her side, and looked at him, “A little relief for your pain?” Bringing the needle up, she slammed it down hard right into his chest, and then pushed the handle down.

As the man seized up, choking, scrambling at his chest as though he could stop the end that was occurring there, Emma picked herself off the ground. She bent over, grabbed her bag, and, when the man met Death instead of her, she stalked out of the alley.

When she arrived at the meeting spot next to Bertucci’s, where several others were all ready gathered, at 10:40pm, she looked like hell. Her black, slightly wavy hair was messed up – pulled out of the barrette that it was usually held back in –, there was a trickle of blood running down her chin from the cut on her bottom lip that must have been sustained when the officer had slapped her, and her jaw was all ready turning an ugly shade of purple, but that didn’t stop her from grinning, “Well, are we ready to get out of here or what?”

by **Korrye** on Sat Oct 25, 2008 12:55 pm

Silence drifted and hit the concrete walls of the jail cell echoing back in her ears. There was a sense of nothingness as the lone figure in the room did little to evoke any sound. The room itself was dank and humid with only one steel door leading in and out. Not a single window or glass pane let her view the outside world, fluorescent lights were put into the ceiling providing only dim lighting. They had placed her in such a room intentionally. Aleks was a powerful being who knew who to get out of a sticky situation.

“They know me, so they think,” Aleks thought.

And sure, there probably was a chunky file hiding somewhere on her life and the reasons why she did what she did. The program files on operations pre-NOAH government didn’t exist but what she had done for them was enough to give them an exposure to her. Yes, just a simple exposure, not a dozen photographs on what she could do. No, they had a one photo glimpse of who she was. They had no idea of what she was capable of and now that they had pushed her buttons she was about to leave and take part in a strike that was sure to make the government concerned.

She didn’t have an ego although there was a sense of pride deep down inside of her. Aleks Connally wasn’t patriotic in the sense that she fought battles for her country. She was patriotic because she fought for herself and her safety. But now, having been used, she was fed up with them. It was time for them to understand that they couldn’t control her through threats and drugs.

The woman sat against the concrete wall, in a corner of the room, limp. Frailty was easily feigned on her part so she sat there with her eyes glazed over, seemingly lost in thought. Her body was lanky and looked tired as she slumped her weight into the wall. Sprawled in front of her were her legs while her arms were behind her back folded together. Ragged and messy her hair clung to her cheeks in places or hung limply at others reaching three inches above her belly button. Aleks parted her lips slightly and almost frowned keeping a placid look about her, almost as if she were challenged.

In the corner of the room a dot camera kept a zoomed image of her face on a screen in a room down the hall; the washing room as it was called. A man sat stoically in front of it while his hands were submerged in a basin of water. His fingers were thickly lathered in soap while he scrubbed each one of them until they were raw. Then he swallowed and with it his nearly over-sized Adam’s apple shuddered.

“Bring her in,” he called out. From behind him a swarm of men moved out to retrieve the subject he had called for. He was deeply intrigued by her character. So what they said had been true, she was a chameleon. From the moment she had been shoved into that room she had acted the part of an insecure woman, terrified and wronged by the NOAH government. She was so convincing that he was tempted to call the higher ups but he didn’t. For they had advised him specifically that this one was important to them and that she had to survive. Collin Swass obeyed orders for if his hand slipped then he would suffer the consequences and be murdered.

The door opened with a hiss of creaks and moans, slamming against the concrete wall. The sound that it omitted would make anyone flinch but Aleks stayed as she was, fidgeting slightly as six of them grabbed her from alls sides. Their grip was strong and her eyes darted around taking in each one of their faces. Compromised of men she recognized the determined stare in their eyes: the same look she had seen in almost all other government snipers who had been stripped of their memories. Each one of them was a washing victim. And she would become one of them if she didn’t act.

As they grabbed her Aleks held her weight in her butt, her hands then flopping out of the grips of the men who held them loosely. Angry grunts were uttered as they worked around it, hoisting her into the air by grabbing under her armpits while her legs dragged on the floor. Aleks let her head droop and a small amount of spit form on her lips.

“Are you sure that they haven’t done her already?” One of them asked.
“No. This is the one he asked for,” Another responded.
And that was all they did for talking.

They dragged her sagging body down the hall where Aleks was met with the head physician. Instantly she placed his face to her past from years ago. Beneath the wrinkles, the scars and the baldness was a man she knew to be her father’s former colleague. This recognition did not show in her eyes or face. Instead she retained control of her emotions, remaining placid. The group reached the door the men hauling her forward. Two of them held it open while four of them continued to either hold her up or bring up the rear. As Aleks glimpsed a view of the interior of the room. It frightened her because it looked far different than any regular operation room. There was no gurney only a cold steel table with sheep skin and leather restraints hanging open. The lights were excruciatingly bright and surrounding the table were half a dozen trays of utensils, tools or bottles of fluid. Halfway into the entrance to the
room she chose then to move into action.

“A call to arms,” she murmured.

The use of her voice shocked them. The men stopped for a moment holding her there looking at one another for a reassurance or direction.

“A call to arms, a call to fight, a call to the brave, to use their might, a call to arms, to fight for what’s right.”

Aleks yanked on her wrists and twisted them at the joint in a counter clockwise motion forcing them to be released. As she fell to the floor she caught herself and reached out with her legs to send a hard kick at the ankles of the men closest to her. The smooth white tiling of the hallway caused for their legs to give way and as they fell she pushed them down with her free hands. The two men landed on the ground while the other four began a mad ambush. Aleks dove, tucking her arms and legs into a roll allowing for the men to collide with one another. With a number of options floating she relied on her gut instinct to guide her. Acting on instinct and the probability that there were more men down the hall she darted into the washing room, locking it from the inside.

He wasn’t expecting to see her in such a state. Instead he stood beside a tray of syringes each filled with a red transparent solution in high dosages as much as 500ccs. When she locked eyes with him Swass saw hatred and fury boiling within a violent woman who was now in her element.

“You give an impressive show,” he began. His men were down, that was to be expected.
Aleks kept her eyes locked with his and crouched like a wildcat ready to spring. She eyed scalpels and other instruments laid out for her washing carefully but the man followed her line of view.

“If you believe that I, an old man, will forcefully put you on this table then you are far gone,” He spoke mildly. In fact he pushed the tray in front of him away and folded his arms across his chest turning his back to the one camera he knew was in the room to supervise him. He pulled a screen in front of them blocking it’s view.

“I remember you as a child Aleks. You were admirable for your charity and grace. But now look at you, vengeful and full of hatred for a government that controls us all like sheep in a pen,”

“I am not vengeful,” Aleks uttered. “I fight for my life.”

“But you are vengeful because these men asked for you to kill your own father. And after twenty years of estrangement you still won’t do it. They say you have no moral yet I’m viewing it, that very tiny line.”
She sidestepped towards a tray of scalpels and snatched one from the platter holding it in much the same way that a surgeon would. She still crouched, ready to act should the old man decide to pull anything.

“In fact I’m very interested in you and what you could do. The letter, tell me this, did it reach you?”

The words stung. Yes, the letter had reached her. Aleks diverted her gaze for a moment to recall the piece of paper that had shown up during a briefing. A Resistance of sorts was what it entailed, the kind of thing that hollered out to her like a cure for cancer. She needed it to get rid of the cancer. The opportunity was there but Aleks had to pause and look at herself, the position she was in. Normally she was never like this, trusting an old man who claimed to be an old family friend. It was too much! There was too much potential for a scam. The probability was high that he was lying to her.

“I’m assuming that’s a yes. I ensured that that letter reached you but also that your father was labelled as expendable. Because I needed you to come to me so that I could help you.”

“Pfft. Help me by erasing who I am?” She retorted.

“No, by freeing you.”

Aleks raised her left eyebrow in curiosity.

“Come, follow me.”

The assassin watched as the man departed from his platter of syringes and prepared utensils. She remained behind him, watching him as he limped over to another steel door that led to a scrubbing in station. The monitor from which he had been watching her was turned off as they passed it moving through a long hallway. The man preceded her until they reached a janitorial closet.

“ Grab yourself a uniform,” he instructed as he opened the door.

Aleks saw that the room was empty of people and cluttered with cleaning supplies but she did not enter.

“I’m not stupid. You’ll lock me in,” she murmured.

“But there’s a vent through which you could climb out,” he quickly remarked.

Aleks slowly moved until she finally entered. Her gut was telling her this was wrong but then she saw it, the vent overhead. She entered and he slammed the door behind her, locking it with enthusiasm.

“Keep that scalpel with you, your chip will track you and you'll need to remove it,” he shouted through the door. Aleks methodically grabbed a janitorial uniform and tucked it over her shoulder before getting to work on the duct cover. She took the scalpel and tucked it gently into each of the screws and twisted without grinding the sharp blade. Eventually the cover was released and Aleks pushed it up into the vent before jumping. She held her arms up at first before spreading them inside the duct, catching her weight and holding it suspended off of the floor before hoisting herself in. The duct was cramped but she could manage so she slipped the cover back over the hole and began crawling. Her sense of direction was off so she had gone off of what she knew. She crawled to the left towards the end of the hallway not back towards the washing room.

It seemed like a long time before she crossed over other ventilation covers which was aggravating. The air in the vents was stale so much so that dust was coating the inside of her nose making her likely to sneeze. The former assassin slid down a duct passageway and for the first time heard life on the other end. She stopped herself just beside the grille and peered down below into a public washroom. She had to be on the same floor as paperwork and filing.

Two young women looked at themselves in the mirror. She judged them to be no older than eighteen. They leaned into the mirror and pried at their eyebrows, applying water from the taps to their lips to keep the moist while gossiping.

“Did you here? Apparently Jonathon Williams got a job as a rations chef in town. I can’t believe that he would be so lucky to never have to experience the cubicle life.”
“Shht!” the other hissed, “They’ll hear our complaints and then we’ll be done. Let’s get back.”

And so they left, following one another out the door back to their desk jobs. Aleks pulled the duct cover off and vaulted down. The first thing she did was lock the door.

In a matter of minutes she changed who she was, transforming into a lowly janitor. She hunched her shoulders and kept a lanky stance, perhaps induced by old age. Her walk was with a slight limp in her left hip. She pulled back and tied her hair with a piece of fabric which she tore off of her older shirt. Her cheekbones looked harsher, her face solemn as she relaxed herself. Then there was the last thing to do; the chip. Aleks left the navy blue uniform unbuttoned at the collar and leaned in close to the mirror tracing her fingers along her skin until she found the lump and scars from the incisions. Hers looked this way because it was military issued and the process was one that she had been awake for. It hadn’t been painful but they hadn’t done such a bang up job on her as they had others. To her advantage they had left scar tissue which lessened the bleeding. She took the scalpel out of her pocket and stretched her neck out before gingerly applying the sharp end to her skin making a small incision. The sight of her blood didn’t scare her, instead she blotted it with her other hand, keeping it from staining her clothes. The cut was less than an inch in length. Then she pushed the chip out forcefully. The stinging sensation was there but she only clenched her teeth and let it be. It was like a paper cut injury compared to what she had endured in the past. The black square head of the tracker broke the skin and she instantly pulled at it, again blotting the blood at is flowed. Aleks was slow to pull on the wires as she felt them move within her, an eerie feeling that made her body shiver and erupt in
goosebumps. But then she reached the end and with a small yank she freed herself of it. The device, she decided, was better destroyed then left behind so she tossed it on the floor and squished it with her foot. The black head broke so she picked up the bits and flushed them down individual toilets thus separating the remnants. Aleks held a wad of toilet paper to the incision for awhile until she managed to find a first aid kit tucked away by a chart of
scheduled bathroom cleanings. Aleks wrote down that she had ‘cleaned’ the bathroom under a name that was repeatedly on the chart before taking gauze and a bandage to clean up her wound. The incision wasn’t deep enough that she would need to stitch it so she let it go as a simply covered wound.

Now in disguise and resuming character, the scalpel in her pocket should she need it, Aleks unlocked the door and stepped out into the hall. A line of cubicles met her eye but each employee was so absorbed in their work that they didn’t look up to see her. Aleks walked slowly like an old woman eyeing a fire escape plan on the wall that gave a basic layout of the building. Her route now formed in her mind, Aleks took it, walking freely past advisers who only smirked at her in dislike at her job.

The uniform passed and as she met the front desk she saw a line of punch cards for staff use. She recalled the name that she had used in the washroom and took the card, punching out and nodding courtly at the secretary. It was all for show, to look the part. If she didn't punch a card then she would look suspicious.
“I’ve never seen you here before. Are you new?” She asked in a friendly manner.
“Yes. Actually I just transferred, too many stairs in the old buildings. They didn’t have elevators,” her voice sounded old and crackled.
“Alright. Bu-bye then,” she responded, returning to her work not even questioning the authenticity of Aleks' answer. She wasn't trained to and wasn't required to so she didn't. Period.

And she walked out of the building onto the street instantly stripping herself of the uniform and changing back to herself. Aleks Connally was free and despite the unorthodox manner of which she had used it was done. Although the air quality hardly differed it felt somewhat refreshing. The assassin made her way in the crowds keeping the collar of her shirt over the bandage. It didn’t take her long to find the restaurant; she had already scouted the location before she was apprehended for disobeying orders. But before she went to the meeting, for which she was already somewhat late, she returned to her quarters. Although it was risky to even think of returning home she found it the way she thought it to be; abandoned and cleaned out by the government. It burned to see her life gone from the small loft apartment but no matter, she had business to attend to. Aleks had weapons that she had kept with her during the blasts. They were still in tact and they were still there. In her kitchen she popped one of the wooden floor boards out of place by pushing all of her weight into the right end and shoving it left. The board released and instantly she found her digs hiding underground. In silence she collected what she had stowed; her Cheytac, her Beretta, rounds, a hunting knife along with another first aid kit which was small. The essentials were kept; she left behind money and identification under the floorboard (which she replaced) before rising to find a droid entering the premises. It couldn’t just be easy could it?

“Affirmative, affirmative, break in confirmed via 526 Lincoln Road. Suspect on premises.”

Aleks crouched and used the counter-tops as cover. She would not let them see her face. She extended her right arm out while she crouched, holding her Beretta while using the reflection off of her stainless steel fridge to judge the droid’s position. When the silver bot came into view she aimed with precision, adjusting her arm in silence before firing two rounds into the joint that held the head and body together. The bot shuttered and spun wildly while Aleks let it finish itself by running itself into a wall. She heard the thud and saw the sparks flying before emerging, dashing into her room where she would change her clothing for one final time and head out.

The familiar exterior of Bertucci’s was somewhat welcoming. She entered the alleyway beside it with caution; multiple faces came into her view.

“Better late than never,” she muttered with her hands in her sweater pockets. She was dressed casually to them, outwardly wearing well fitting jeans, a turquoise mid-length shirt and black hooded sweater but underneath she wore leggings and undershirts to provide extra warmth. For shoes she had donned runners, nothing but the best. Her Beretta was tucked in the back of her jeans while her rifle was dissembled in a duffel bag on her shoulder which also held her collection of first aid supplies and what rounds she had. All in all she looked together as she approached them considering that she had just been about to have her personality and memory washed down the drain an hour ago.

by **Near** on Sat Oct 25, 2008 1:25 pm

Staring at the newcomers with a bit of anticipation of who they were, I tightened my grip on my SMG in just of case. "Just to be sure." Pulling out a small scanner, no bigger than the size of my hand, it was similar to that you would see at a store to scan canned goods. To me, it was to make sure that everyone had actually removed their chips, neck scars aside. Putting it outward, having a pretty good range from here I moved it over each specimen, a few dozen times to be sure. Realizing they all 'practically' did what they were supposed to. "Alright, we need to leave. The alarms have been wired throughout the city and the droid's would take hours to reprogram but footed men will be combing the city and kill every last man with their chip removed. . . after they torture you that is." Now regretting tossing my radio, but what was done, was. . . done.

"My name is Gabriel Titus Llewellyn but you can call me G.T. I'm a. . . former Officer of NOAH." Cocking his gun, "Now. First is first, who the fuck called us all here? One of you is the suspect here and I'm curious on who it is. Secondly, maybe we should take this little renegade on the move now. I don't know about you, but torture then annihilation doesn't sound like a really inviting plan at the moment." Thinking back to the severe killings I took part in as well as being a spectator on.

****

It was dark, one man had removed his chip, just one. Late thirties, not a very big man so he was a runner as you would expect. He wanted to see his son, who was taken away from him. The man wanted freedom like I did, but he wouldn't get a happy ending. "Officer 5-6-3-2. Shoot to kill." My palms were sweaty, this was one thing I didn't want to do but I knew if I didn't, hell would be there to pay. Running after him, trembling the entire time as my magnum closed in my fists, enough power to wipe this man out in a single shot. It was power that I didn't want, power that I didn't deserve, power that only the devil himself could harbor and it was in my hands. Stopping in the alley, two men behind me egging me on to do it, "Hurry up G.T. Show this scum what happens when you cross NOAH." The man being the only thing that stood between me and another dozen officers on the other side. I was given the order to kill, me, no one else.

My stomach clenched greatly, my eyes narrowed as I looked down, a door to the side of the alley open. "Daddy!" The man turning to his son with so much sadness, "Stay there son. It's all going to be okay." Biting my lower lip, what was I to do? Finally tightening my grip even more the boy ran out, a man to my right fired at him, the boy falling to the ground, blood oozing from his head--he was dead. Gasping, the man lunged himself at me, I didn't do it but he wanted me! Putting my elbow into the back of his head I flipped him over and dropped him to the ground, taking my fingers tightly around his atoms apple. I was trained to kill, that was my job. Tightening my grip, with the power of an assassin, I ripped it out, blood spreading around my fingers as the man was immediately pronounced dead. I killed him.

****

Wiping my eyes, and my brows from sweat, I turned my gazes upward.

by **reticulated99** on Sat Oct 25, 2008 9:08 pm

Ze'ev woke in the gutter, the insistent beeping of his watch ripping him from another day of hiding. He'd found a good spot to spray his last slogan, a giant red "WHO WATCHES THE WATCHMEN?" People would see it, but the cops wouldn't. Not for a day or so; that had been his head start, and it was almost up. He'd made it about a quarter of the way across town since his final act of vandalism, his last "Fuck you" to the government before he got out. After ten long years, he'd learned a few tricks; what he had started as a kid playing at anarchism had turned into a crusade. A damned pitiful crusade, but at least it was something.

First: travel during the day. Normal people don't go out late at night.
Second: Pick a spot carefully. Once the cops spot the mark and ID you, you have maybe 20 minutes. The trick is to put it where they won't spot it right away.
Third: All you can ever do is delay, so don't do anything really stupid. If you do major crime, you're in a world of trouble. Vandalism? That's a couple of months that you can get away with. In prison, they even let you choose what kind of drudgery you want to perform

He checked his watch: 2214. Near time. Luckily, he was only a few blocks away from the meeting point. Bertucci's...didn't sound familiar; of course, the last time he was in this quadrant of the city had been three years ago. But first things first...

Ze'ev reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter, now creased and grimy. He'd found it two weeks ago, tucked inside his bag of paint cans, and had been rereading it almost obsessively every chance he got since then. To know that there were others like him, not just cowards trying to game the system, had injected him with a confidence he hadn't felt since he was eighteen and just starting down this exhausting road. He read through it again, quickly, to make sure that whatever part of him wasn't perfectly sane hadn't made him miss some important information. The words were the same as they'd been the time before, and the time before that. The diagram showing the location of the NOAH chip was the same too. Ze'ev had known there had to be some kind of tracking system, being that he remembered days when the police were bumbling idiots, but he had never figured out their method. Lacking a scalpel, or indeed much of anything besides a knapsack filled with cans of spray paint, he started to scrounge through the debris. I hope they've got a doctor, because I bet I get infected from what I'm gonna do. After a few moments, he found a suitably sharp piece of metal with minimal rust, though God only knew what microscopic death-wigglies it was carrying. It would have to do.

Right on the side, he thought to himself, carefully positioning the shard with one hand and holding the diagram in the other. So one end is right...there. About a quarter-inch in, so...AAAAGH! He bit back a cry as he stabbed the end of the metal in, twisting it slightly until he felt it scrape against something he was pretty sure was the chip and not bone. Right there. Here goes nothing. Ze'ev pulled the metal down in one sharp movement, abruptly laying bare the entire chip. A single drop of blood from his bitten lip ran down his chin to mix with the blood from his neck as he reached up with a steady hand, plucked the device from his flesh, and smashed it methodically with the bottom of one of his paint cans. He checked his watch again, feeling the urgency now: 2227.

And it was, in keeping with Ze'ev's luck, at that moment the policeman stepped into the alley. It took an instant for each man's presence to register with the other, and another instant for the cop to spot the blood on Ze'ev's neck. In that instant, propelled by blind panic, Ze'ev was reacting the only way he could think to: he flung the spray can in his hand at the policeman's face. The other man being little more than a silhouette, he hadn't recognized him forwhat he was: not just a cop, but an elite responder. Hidden in the alley, Ze'ev hadn't heard the PSAs as more than background noise, and had no idea soldiers were roaming the streets. So he was incredibly lucky that, although the paint can simply clanged off his enemy's armored mask, the sheer audacity of his attack made the other man stay still for a moment longer. Ze'ev leapt forward, the world tilting crazily as the blood began to flow more freely from his neck, and charged at the soldier, whose body-armored shape was becoming more clear with every step. He raised his rifle and fired--just high, as Ze'ev dove and tackled him at the knees. In a decade of vagrancy, Ze'ev had never outright resisted arrest, and so he simply rained blows on the momentarily stunned soldier, desperate to hurt him somehow. Then his opponent's training kicked in, and in rapid succession, very painful things happened to Ze'ev's left middle finger and right knee. Fighting through the pain, he hooked one hand under the other man's helmet and managed to tear it off, stabbing a thumb inward towards an eye. The soldier locked one of Ze'ev's legs between his own, rolling the melee over until he was on top, bearing down on Ze'ev's bleeding throat with the butt of his rifle. Fingers scrabbling madly for something, anything, Ze'ev's vision started to go gray around the edges. Suddenly, he felt smooth glass under the tips of his fingers. A bottle? Please! Just a tiny. Bit. Further... His right hand closed around the bottle's neck; as he lifted it he saw, through his fading picture of the world, that it was broken. Mustering all the strength he had left, Ze'ev drove the broken glass into the soldier's throat. The man jerked and tried to cry out; Ze'ev barely had the presence of mind to clamp a hand over his mouth as he rolled his dying foe off to avoid being drenched in his lifeblood.

An inspection of the body produced the rifle Ze'ev had nearly been killed with, as well as a pistol; an inspection of himself showed that his left middle finger was broken and what was probably some form of fracture in his right kneecap, although the leg seemed to only be bending in the direction it should. That would have to do. Thinking for a moment and having to pause unduly to do so from his exhaustion, Ze'ev tore a strip from the dead man's shirt and tied it around his neck, hoping that it could still do some good. Then, using the rifle as support, he hauled himself to his feet and limped uneventfully to Bertucci's. He glanced at his watch as he approached the small group there. 2241. I guess those stories about time slowing down in a fight are true. Figuring that no greeting was really necessary, he spoke up as he reached the circle.

"One of you is a doctor, right? 'Cause...I can deal with the broken finger and bruises, but I didn't have time to be picky about what I used to cut my chip out, and I get the feeling an infection would really slow me down."

by **Rokku** on Sun Oct 26, 2008 11:44 am

Robert knew something big was about to happen. As soon as he pulled out the letter, he felt that things were never going to be the same again.

He had called in a sick day, a rather clever move on his part. He readied his supplies. A razor blade, gauze, a bandage, and a needle full of his own special blend of anesthetic and a chemical agent that temporarily increases the clotting efficiency of blood.

He had snuck into the infirmary many times to gather some supplies in preparation for this event.

He picked up the needle, and stuck the tip into the area of his neck above the chip. Quickly, the anesthetic went to work, numbing the skin.

He put down the now empty syringe and picked up the razor blade. He ran the blade along his neck, and the skin opened up, the blood flow quickly ceasing due to the clotting agent.

He took a hold of the now-exposed chip and gave it a good yank, the black box coming out with a small trail of wires behind it.

He bandaged up his neck, and pulled on a high-collared sweatshirt.

He checked his watch. 10:10. It would take him at least 15 minutes to get to Bertucci's, so he headed out the door.

Robert saw officers on every corner, their radios chirping about being on the lookout for people with bandaged necks. He unzipped a pair of hidden pockets in his sweatshirt, his hand holding onto a pistol in the right pocket.

He was relieved to see that the police paid no attention to him, and proceeded on. The glowing lights of Bertucci's grew closer. He reached the door and stepped inside. He checked his watch. 10:29. Perfect timing.

"It looks like I'm right on time."

by **diabolicalxdamsel** on Sun Oct 26, 2008 6:26 pm

She wasn’t herself today. Her colleagues asked her if anything was troubling her as they examined the effects of C8-H10-N4-O2 (caffeine) on exposed cells of the solanum tuberosum linnaeus (potato) under a microscope. The hell is the point of this she thought. “I’m fine” she would say out loud and smile. She figured out a long time that most of these useless jobs were around just to keep the common man preoccupied. Also such mediocre jobs were given to stronger personalities such as hers as a means to dissolve the rebellious streak. Even studying plants fueled her. She discovered hybrids that had various medicinal benefits such as curing chronic migraines, infections, and even imbalances of the brain the cause depression. She discovered all these things could be a lot cheaper than clinical drugs and with fewer side effects. However this would tip Turpis’ little monetary system somewhat and they wouldn’t have that.

She had dug up a lot of dirt on the system in the past few years as a plant nutrition specialist. First off that her job was an utter load of shit and was more about getting rid of the nutrients in produce rather than making them healthier. She was made to figure how to create hybrids that would change the wiring of the part of the brain that handled reason. They were also planning to illegalize certain vegetables high in vitamin E. It made her sick, but she bit her tongue. The she got the letter. She got her little golden ticket to freedom in her mailbox sometime ago. So she obeyed, she did her work, and she didn’t fight. Now she was all pins and needles. Yesterday she walked into her small apartment to find a white piece of paper taped onto her living room window. It had the current date and 10:30 pm the light in yonder window will break. Run, Juliet.. Beneath that was a tiny rectangle that perfectly outlined the window that sat in the complex right across from her. She reached a hand to her neck feeling the small chip. Tonight it would all be better. No more “Your father died for the righteous cause” no more “The victims of the radiation was a small sacrifice to build this great city”. She would finally be able to be angry without consequence.

She clocked out, took off her goggles and white coat, and walked out from the shadow of the looming dark structure that stood as a reminder that the human spirit was only as strong as the false hope it was given. She ate a big meal, drank plenty of juice, and turned on the news. She sat on a stool in front of her window. 10:27 PM. She had a black backpack full of supplies, an exacta knife in one hand, and a jar of turmeric in the other. She wasn’t watching the news. She was watching the window across the street from her. It looked dark and vacant, but somewhere in there was her chance. There it was. A flashlight clicked on right on her and was off just as fast. That was it. She bared her clenched teeth “FUCK IT!” she hissed digging a vertical line. It stung like fire, but it was no match for her rage. “For…father” she grunted ripping the chip out, it’s long, dangling wires like the legs of a nasty parasite. “And for mother.” She dropped it on the ground and stomped on it. She emptied a handful of the turmeric onto her hand and packed it into her wound. It instantly stopped the bleeding. There were the sirens. She opened a window, slug on her backpack, and climbed down the fire escape. Six stories became a life or death opportunity in which there was no turning back. She just ran down the dark, damp alleys and alternate routes since she had a feeling all the bigger roads and intersections were about to be shut down. There was fire in her dark eyes. She was a beast in the night finally free from the cages and tamers. Free from the binds and the lies and the cold. She didn’t even realize the pain in her chest until she saw the glowing lights. She bypassed them and rounded a corner to the back of the building to see a decent sized group already gathered. She took a few small bottles of turmeric from her bag. “Anyone still bleeding?” she asked.

by **Sonata** on Sun Oct 26, 2008 11:47 pm

Cael was huddled next to the dumpster, his forehead resting on his knees as he reminisced about how he had come this far, though far was not exactly the correct word. No, he was still in this hellhole at step one. The pain in his neck stung softly every time he turned it and the wet grime that soaked the trim of his pants constantly reminded him of the life he was leaving behind. Bertucci was standing a few meters to his left, the burly man still donning his apron as he stared hard into the screen of his cell. He was so calm. How could he be so calm? Cael was cutting off the circulation to his legs in a death grip and that wasn’t giving him any secure comfort, it was making them numb and tingly, adding to his problems. He stretched out his legs and sat back against the brick wall, gazing at them sadly. “Ow,” he whimpered, now they ached.

There was a chime that sounded from inside the café that had Bertucci and Cael both turn their heads to the alley door. “Customers?” Cael questioned Bertucci.

“Doubt it” the manager growled lowly, clapping his cell phone closed. The Italian tucked his cell phone away, opened the door to the kitchen, and stepped inside to handle the supposed customers. He was a real man. One of those guys that just by having thick eyebrows and a mustache were ominously shrouded the moment they frowned.

This put Cael on the edge as he leapt to his feet having completely forgotten about his new condition. He grasped the dumpster to his right, leaning all his weight on it to hopefully relieve the painful throbbing traveling up and down his shins. “Aaagh” he gasped quietly. It was a time like this that he wished he could fly or levitate. Like Ironman. Yes, Ironman, like he did in the 2008 blockbuster. That was so bad ass. As for Ironman, his cousin clattered loudly to his left, sparking at the throat from torn circuitry. The brunet’s eyes instantly pounced on it as his brain took in the terrifying sight of a security bot. ‘Oh shit!’ he thought, and if his bladder were near bursting with urine, he probably might have wet himself. The resistance leader went flat against the wall, his nerves going off like an earthquake.

Am I late? [Gabriel]

From the droid to the silhouette of a man creeping toward him, Cael’s tense hazel eyes darted. The small lamp above the café door leaked its yellow light into the alley and revealed the uniform of a police officer. Well, if the sight of the vandalized droid didn’t make him piss his pants, the cop did. The warm moisture flooding across the crotch of his pants startled him as his eyes briefly glanced down in disbelief. ‘This is excellent’ he thought. Not only was he about to get killed if the man found out about the ré-si-stance, but he would die in a most embarrassing fashion.

The officer’s smile was unexpected. A mask of horror was frozen on Cael’s face as he watched him rip the NOAH patch from his shoulder. His mouth collapsed open, hazel oculars following the patch as it tumbled to the alley floor. Blinking twice, his lips puckered as he forced a question, “You?...Are you on our side?”

The café door opened and Cael’s attention was directed behind him to the crowd of happy yet fearful refugees. “Here they are” said Bertucci with a merry laugh. Men, women, women holding children, and children with other children poured out of the restaurant into the alley. There had to be about thirty of them and even more were individually arriving around him. They were confused and whispering, their eyes searching, and they were wondering what to do now. Cael was so full of awe and happiness that an uncontrollable smile occupied his face from ear to ear. ‘Wow, they actually came’ he thought and tears burned at his eyes.

Am I late? [Shale]

The question came again but from another man. “No; you’re right on time” said Cael enthusiastically. He felt great. There was so much hope and determination coursing through his veins. He had so much energy that he could have howled with excitement, but of course that wouldn’t be a wise idea. If only they knew how many months it took him to plan this whole escape? Technically, a few years for he had to establish a clean record and get a white-collar job. To think that in a long and venturous year, this simple salary man would be in charge of the biggest resistance NOAH will ever clash against. Lost in astonishment, it was when the cop decided to get everyone’s attention that he snapped back to reality. They weren’t in Heaven yet. “Agreed,” said Cael, pressing a finger to his glasses as he pushed them up his nose. “There should be vehicles arriving right now.”

Frightened gasps erupted in front of him as the crowd parted like the Red Sea to reveal a security guard with a rifle pointed directly between his eyes. Cael immediately raised his arms, displaying his bare, weaponless palms as he peered down the dark barrel of the gun.

All right... One o' ya needs t'tell me what th' fuck is goin' on, ya ken? [Seviryn]

None of the refugees spoke. They gazed about, expecting each other to take the initiative. A baby hiccupped into tears, and an embarrassed mother turned her back to press the child’s face to her breast. They were just as scared as he was. Lowering his arms shakily, he had already pissed his pants what more could happen to ruin his day? The headlights of a vehicle illuminated the dark alley as the hummer carefully rolled toward them. The mob began to hug the walls as the wide vehicle passed and Cael took a step back against the wall himself, staring the guard in the eyes. “We’re getting out of here” he answered simply as the hummer braked between them. He saw nothing but a passenger door and opened it to see a perplexed driver.

“Damn. Look at all these folks,” he glanced out the window at the security guard with the gun, and then back at Cael. “Hey, isn’t he the bad guy? Want me to kill him?”

The brunet shook his head, still nervous about the fact that there was one amongst them who could possibly rat the resistance out. “No, uh, that won’t be necessary. We need to get these people out of here. There are more of you guys right?”

The driver grinned and pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Yeap, check it out.” More vehicles entered the alley from hummers, trucks, to vans.

Cael grinned. “All right; well then, keep going. Start at the other end and get these people out of here.”

“Roger!”

Cael closed the passenger door and the hummer continued on. The brunet was before the security guard’s eyes once more. “You...” He didn’t want to say this, yet did so regrettably, “You can shoot me down if you want and you can have all of these people killed for nothing. N-not even you will have gained a better future. We...w-we plan to leave Turpis. You’re...y-you’re welcome to come.”

Another vehicle separated them, a van, and Cael slid open its door. Inside was an arsenal: Kevlar, rifles, SMGs, pistols, frags, and a rocket launcher. ‘A rocket launcher? No way!’ thought Cael. He stepped in and began unlocking the weaponry from their racks and issued them out. There was only enough Kevlar for ten people. “Is this it?” asked Cael, looking between the seats at the driver.

“Yeah, sorry. That’s all I got” he apologized. “There will be more in the next car.”

Cael nodded and stepped out, dropping to the asphalt and turning around to lug that rocket launcher across the van floor. He bared his teeth and jerked it closer to him with those thin arms; and as soon as it cleared the floor, it dropped to the ground in Cael’s grasp with a clank. Good thing it wasn’t loaded. The brunet made it evident that he had no clue as to how to hold a weapon properly. Hoisting it like a beam, he leaned it against the dumpster and reached back into the dumpster for the bulbous explosive that was nothing other than the rocket. “All right. I have everything. Go down the alley and pick up more people.”

“Gotcha!” the driver exclaimed and Cael slid the van door closed. ‘This is going easier than I thought.’ On cue, a thunderous pow echoed throughout the sky and in the same second a shrill scream ripped through the calm atmosphere. A man’s head sparked with blood as his body went limp and tumbled into the path of the rescue vehicles. The truck screeched to a halt and the party broke into frightened screams and shrieks as they sank to the ground. Cael crouched next to the dumpster that he was beginning to develop an intimate relationship with. His back pressed against the rusted steel and his eyes frantically searched the rooftop before the alley, which left the rooftop behind them uninspected. There was a sniper somewhere and he or she was just the start of their worries. Red and blue lights flashed along the alley walls as police vehicles started pulling up.

People continued to panic and massed onto the back of the truck. The sniper was picking them off and the cops assumed their trained positions, opening their car doors and kneeling behind the windows, picking the refugees off like flies. Bodies fell about the truck and the driver was seen no where inside. Did he run? Pressing his hands to his ears, Cael sank to his bottom and screamed, closing his eyes not wanting to see anymore, “This wasn’t supposed to happen!” He could hear the horrid howls of innocents falling dead. His whole body felt numb with fear and anxiety and his mind was swimming. He couldn’t think anymore. Violence was something he wasn't used to. He had never clashed with violence until today and at this high deadly level, the level that minutes ago when he sat within his cubicle he thought he could handle, he couldn't.

Cael’s eyes opened to gaze upon the rocket launcher. A played out escape began to manifest in his mind as he found himself pulling the launcher into his lap and sliding the rocket into its mouth until there was a loud click. “Someone help me!” he cried as loud as he could over the crowd. He couldn’t do this on his own.

by **XianEvermor** on Mon Oct 27, 2008 4:36 am

"Right now-like," quipped Seviryn when nobody spoke up. He was like a gargoyle staring down at Cael. He did not once move his weapon from it's target, even when the Hummer turned in to the alley. His cold, calculating blue eyes flicked once towards the vehicle and then immediately back to Cael.

"We're getting out of here," was the kid's simple reply. His words plucked a heart string deep in his chest. “Damn. Look at all these folks,” the driver looked between him and Cael. “Hey, isn’t he the bad guy? Want me to kill him?” Seviryn's finger instantly moved to the trigger, and he was milliseconds away from putting a hole in the driver before Cael spoke again. He exhaled a long breath and took his finger back off the trigger slowly, resting it back near the safety but still at the ready. The Hummer rolled away and Cael was once again before him, his piercing left eye burning into the smaller man's skull like a laser straight down the bore sight of the rifle and his face expressionless. He sensed the hesitance in Cael's voice as he spoke again.

"You... You can shoot me down if you want and you can have all of these people killed for nothing. N-not even you will have gained a better future. We...w-we plan to leave Turpis. You’re...y-you’re welcome to come.” It was only a couple heartbeats, but to Seviryn it felt like an eternity before he slowly lowered his gun. The whole thing clicked in his head: This was the one who started it all, and from what he knew of the system and what he was seeing here, he must have been planing it for years. How did he know Cael was the leader? Easy: He saw it in the kid's eyes. What Seviryn saw when he looked straight at that scrawny, dorky fan of comic book super heroes who'd recently wet his pants was not a fighter. He saw someone with a patient and brilliant mind able to plan far into the future. Seviryn was unclipping the radio from his belt when the next vehicle stopped between them. He dropped it to the ground and crushed it beneath the heel of his boot as he listened to Cael clumsily unload weapons and something that sounded very heavy... though he knew it wasn't going to be that easy.

Some people call it a premonition, a sixth sense, or some kind of clairvoyance. Whatever the name, it's that chilly tingle down your spine that makes the hair on your neck stand on end; That feeling you get right before something goes horribly wrong. Seviryn was suddenly alert and scanning the exits and rooftops as the feeling got more intense, moving down his spine and changing from a tingle to the pouring of hot lead into the pit of his stomach. BANG! A civilian dropped to the floor, but he didn't see where the shot came from.

"SNIPER!!! GET YA ARSES DOWN!!!" He dropped into a crouch as more shots rained down on them and tried to get a fix on the bastard when the wail of sirens and the signature red and blue flash of police vehicles skidded to a halt at the mouth of the alley. "Crimeny." He saw Cael breaking down in the corner of his eye and he shoved his way harshly through the crowd of panicked refugees towards the poor guy. A black combat knife slid into his palm from the sleeve of his coat and he was only a handful of paces from the kid when he saw the inklings of something in his eyes... a plan! He paused only for a moment while Cael struggled with the rocket launcher before letting go of his rifle so it hung loosely by it's strap and gripping Cael roughly by his shirt. He nearly lifted the poor guy off his feet and planted him firmly against the wall with the knife raised.

"Look. I'm not here t'kill anybody. You had a plan an' it got fooked to hell, ya ken? Ya actions t'day have gotten innocents killed, an' if ya nevah thought this might happen ya were nae ready! Now..." He jabbed the knife roughly into his own neck, fishing around for a moment until he caught something solid with the tip and pulled it to the surface of his skin, his neck taught and his face red with pain. The knife vanished back into his sleeve and he gripped the chip, pulling it violently tendrils and all from his body. His eyes twitched and he blinked shiny white blobs and swirling dots out of his vision while he released Cael and snatched the rocket from him before he hurt himself. Seviryn quickly inspected the weapon, making sure the safeties were off and it was loaded properly, then hefted it up onto his shoulder with the practiced ease of a basement terrorist. Seviryn crouched against the dumpster and grinned a little up at Cael.

"You'll make it outa here. On me life. Plan B, Mate!" He thumped his chest with a fist and psyched himself up. He'd never fired a rocket launcher before and was actually a little thrilled at the thought of going out with a bang.

"Keep ya head down! You point... I make it go boom! Ya ken?"

by **Korrye** on Mon Oct 27, 2008 1:31 pm

Same old same old. Nothing could ever be simple, not for once in her life. Aleks watched as a crowd of women and children poured out of the restaurant into the alley. Fuck. There were so many of them and despite the evening hour it was pressing one’s luck to have a crowd so large in an alley. They were sitting ducks. Other followers seemed to arrive; one’s claiming to have medicine. Tempting to ask for a vile from the young woman who offered Aleks watched as her liberty finally reached zero. A group of vehicles began to approach the alleyway, opening doors. A van and a truck. She watched as a young man spoke to the driver of the van in particular. It didn’t take much for her to see that he had wet his pants. The wacky Australian had probably done that to him, speaking as harshly as he did but Aleks hadn’t considered him a threat so she’d let the man be. He was addressing Cael as he unloaded artillery. As she focused on this man, this leader, she watched as terror tore through his being. If he truly was the coordinator then he wasn’t used to be within a warfare environment. What was he unloading? She caught sight of the various weapons, all standard grade. Damn it to hell nobody ever thought to ask for something specific anymore. Her Cheytac wouldn’t do her any good and if the boys were told to come in here then she knew that based on rooftop heights and distances they would be out no further than 500 yards so as to minimize their presence. Aleks wouldn’t be of any help if she continued to go unarmed so she rushed the man and grabbed an AR-15 M16 Carbine from in his hands. What caught her eye disturbed her, the last thing he turned to unload. Standing beside him checking over the military grade weapon she was handed she saw the rocket locker being hauled out, and quite inappropriately.

“Shit! Does not one of them know what they’re doing?” She muttered, quickly inserted a fresh clip with a quick snap. Then she hoisted the weapon back and jerked the bolt into place letting it emit the noise that it did while turning off the safety.

In less than a second the calmness of the crowd erupted into chaos, a shot was fired and a man fell over dead.

The Australian appeared again and as he spoke to the leader she watched him help the other. At first she thought that he knew what he was doing but she was quickly shown otherwise. The leader was struggling to maintain the weight of the weapon, expecting that should he hoist it over his shoulder it would work in much the same way that weapons of such a grade did in the movies. How far gone were these men? As women and children continued to drop like flies Aleks couldn’t weight any longer. She ducked in, throwing the carbine over her shoulder with a neck strap and grasping the tail of the weapon, lifting it up so that it sat perpendicular to the man’s shoulder.

“Ten second lesson, then I’m gone. I won’t repeat myself, listen to me and you won’t blow yourselves up.” Aleks checked the rounds and settings, adjusting small things before ensuring that the safety was off and it was.
“When you fire there will be a reaction behind you, a blow out. Don’t have a wall behind you or you’ll be propelled forwards. The blow out is there to ensure that you don’t suffer recoil. Don’t let anyone stand behind you either, same reason. When you aim, these grades tend to shoot right. Aim for the ground, not a moving object. I would recommend targeting vehicles at least 200 metres away from you, estimate distances. The further away from you the better. Lastly, keep this on your shoulder level and when you’re re-loading flick the safety back on while you do so. Hold yourself steady when you fire otherwise your shot will be compromised. The snipers are mine, stay behind cover. Best of luck soldier!”

Aleks instantly pushed her way through the scrambling people. Bodies lined the asphalt. The rage of the people was heard, especially the warning brought forth by others. Screams of terror rang in her ears but Aleks persisted, she wouldn’t let them get her down. This was her cure to get rid of the cancer.

Cover was limited; the rocket launcher crew had taken the dumpster. Vehicles rolled through and she kept a count on them. Aleks finally figured where to position herself and went for it. She opened the side door of Bertucci’s; away from where the rocket people would be firing. She checked over her rifle again and then adjusted the scope. Aleks took her stance, leaning her weight into the wall instead of into her legs which she adjusted, one knee to the ground and one up. Then she waited. It was hard to cancel out the noise of the crowds but when the shot came it struck a woman running past her. She traced the line and moved her rifle to the side of the door. Through the scope she could see out accordingly and sure enough on the rooftop of a building three hundred yards away was a familiar face, perched and plucking off the Resistance members.

“Davidson,” she muttered, adjusting her shot to the distance, swinging low and then firing. Her finger squeezed the trigger and a sputter of shots flew out above the heads of the scrambling people, travelling in mere seconds. Aleks watched as Davidson tumbled, his head being thrown back while his body then rolled over.

Standing Aleks continued to listen her fingers tapping the trigger impatiently. Davidson worked with one other man which meant that the NOAH forces were more than likely to want to take them on the ground. They were still sitting ducks at this point. His partner was not with him and she couldn’t spot him, Quin was nowhere to be found. The sniper rounds ceased to be fired but Aleks’ attention was drawn elsewhere. Foot soldiers were closing in on them. The rocket had yet to be fired. The soldiers stood out in their uniforms, Aleks remained behind her cover and watched them, taking in their masked faces. She would move in once the rockets were fired. That was her decision.

by **Rokku** on Mon Oct 27, 2008 1:52 pm

Robert was frightened by the immense chaos around him. A sniper on the rooftop, a van full of guns, people dropping like flies around him, it was overwhelming.

This is bad, very very bad...But if I don't fight back, things will get worse...

Robert received a 9mm semi-automatic pistol and a machete from the van.

"Gotta get to cover or I'm gonna end up like those corpses on the ground..."

Robert ducked behind a large Dumpster in the alley and took aim at the officers blocking the mouth of the alley.

"Hmm...Body armor on their chests, but zero head protection."

Robert took aim at an officer's head and pulled the trigger, a bullet hole appearing in the officer's head and blood flowing down from the wound as the officer fell to the ground. Quickly, another officer changed his aim to Robert.

"Damnit, I should have expected that cops would show up..."

Robert knew that he wouldn't last long just hiding behind a Dumpster taking potshots at cops. He needed a plan. And fast.

"Goddamnit, what do I do? If I try to break through, I'll end up dead. If I hide back here, I'll eventually run out of ammo and end up dead. If I do nothing, I'll end up dead. Someone needs to get us out of here or we're ALL going to die..."

by **Near** on Mon Oct 27, 2008 2:04 pm

Everything was commencing so immediately, that I perfectly sat in my seat without moving an inch. Massacring going on, I watched with not one expression gleaming upon my perfect face. The vehicles slowing down, I stepped out, the gravel scraping against the tread of my shoes as I looked around with a broad smile, looking at the foot soldiers before me. Everyone seemed to much of a wussy to open fire, but I wasn't anywhere near that status yet.

Pulling my pistol, "Alright boys. Good job. You did what you were supposed to. Now take them in." The soldiers passing gazes to the other. "Well don't be idiots, I told the Commander to get you her and take them in. I'd lure them out and you'd kill them. Their harmless. You wouldn't want to make the Commander mad would ya?" The men shaking their head nervously, the Leader of the small baton walked up to him, "Are you sure it's safe Officer?" A smart ass like me doing nothing but smiling, "Hell yeah. I'd bet every piece of ass in this city it's safe. Let me show you." Putting my arm around his shoulder I walked him next to Cael, moving through the carnage, "This is Cael. He is in charge of this little renegade. You going to take him in?" Grinning to myself as the man nervously walked towards him, armed I quickly took his gun from it, twisting the mans neck as he fell to the ground dead. Looking at Cael, "Now I'd be saving that thing for something bigger. I'd bet you every cent in my pocket that they'll have an armored assault vehicle sent here shortly. Even if not, don't waste it on foot men that I prefer to kill myself. Plus, if you can't shoot the damn thing right, let someone else do it. Don't be wasting ammunition." Licking my lips before I looked over the van. Pulling my SMG I loaded it and open fired. "Now if you're all going to do something, don't be scared of doing it. Somethings going to die and it ain't gonna be me because of you little shits."

Sighing, everyone afraid to pull the trigger I just unloaded what I had on the footmen, one bullet nailing me square in the arm but I phased through it like it was nothing. It stung like hell but I would live when it came down to it. Finishing up my rounds, I layed against a van before climbing in, opening the window and firing out some more, random shots just to act like I was doing something at times. "I swear. I'm going to get killed when this is all over!" Sighing to myself, "And by the way you pricks. Who is with NOAH now you crackpot bastards. . ." Smirking to myself at all the carnage I was witnessing, thinking of unloading on the resistance never passed my mind. "If I was going to kill one of you I would of done it already!"

by **Leila Aarons** on Mon Oct 27, 2008 3:40 pm

Fayela took cover as soon as the first shot was fired, a bit stunned for a moment. She had heard of violence, seen a little of it--mainly through movies--but she wasn't used to being right by it. It took a moment, but she finally regained her composure, gathering whatever courage she could and gripping the small but fairly effective handgun in her hand. She had known she wouldn't be able to handle a large one, so when the van had come she had made sure she just got the small weapon.

People were falling quickly all around her, and only a few of the resistance were fighting back. While she had never killed someone in her entire life, she knew it had to be done if they had any hope of not being killed themselves. That in mind, Fayela adjusted herself a little, hoping to blend in with the background a little as she lifted her gun.

Removing the safety, her finger quickly went to the trigger. With all the chaos, it was hard to aim, but not impossible. She wasn't extremely practiced in firing guns and such, but she had read about it. Reading and doing it were two completely different things, she realized, but it was better than having no knowledge of it whatsoever.

After a deep breath and getting a better aim, Fayela's finger pulled back, and the bullet flew. It hit one of the soldiers in the neck--not where she had been aiming, but it killed just as well. She was shakey for a few moments, both from the recoil and just from the fact that she had just killed someone. In order to maintain what sanity she had left, she sunk back down to be completely behind her blockade, back leaning against it as she took deep breaths.

by **Lunar Eclipse** on Mon Oct 27, 2008 6:31 pm

As Sylvia collected her breath and massaged her neck, things went by in a very predictable pattern. More people joined in, some greeting others and some asking if they were late. Then, the armed security guard came. End of predictability. Though he’d asked (more like demanded) the general crowd for some sort of explanation, he appeared to have one specific target for interrogation. A rather pathetic-looking man with… An unfortunate stain on his pants. She really had to wonder if the man had been unlucky enough to be picked as a 'target' or if there was a bigger reason behind the armed man's selection. After a while, she got her answer, it became pretty obvious that the ‘pathetic-looking man’ was the one that had organized all this. It didn’t feel very reassuring to know that the ‘genius’ behind all this was already terrified enough to lose control of his bladder... However, he'd managed to gather the entire crowd in the alley, so he probably wasn’t a hopeless case, or so she hoped. It was a lot more productive than she'd ever been in any case.

The vehicles rolled in, and she remained silent as the man had a small chat with the driver. As soon as the girl decided to go take a look at what was inside one of the vans, the shot rang out and the chaos began. As much as she tried to avoid it from happening, one of the panicked people knocked her over as they ran. On the ground, the dark-haired girl looked up to see a mass of legs and shoes heading her way. Shit! To avoid getting trampled on, she rolled off to the side until she hit one of the alley walls. Remaining crouched down, she looked around to find that she was near a truck and several bodies around it. She decided to try risking a higher view of things, but she found herself unable to stand. Though she was forcefully willing herself to stay very calm in all this, her body wasn’t that easy to keep under check. Her legs her shaking rather terribly and wouldn’t let her get up. Gritting her teeth, the girl grabbed the open door of the truck and lifted herself up a bit, keeping herself as close to the truck as possible. She finally lifted herself up enough to see the end of the alleys. As she’d expected, it was completely blocked by the police.

She looked around to see what other people were doing. Most of them were either dropping down, dead or in order to hide from the bullets, but a few of them were taking up arms. She didn’t want to risk running over to arm herself, she probably wouldn’t have been much help anyway, she’d never shot a gun in her life. Her only references were books and movies, the latter which would probably cause more harm than good if she tried to imitate what she'd seen.

Finally, she saw their scrawny leader and the security guard with a rocket launcher near the dumpster. Sylvia found herself shouting over the bullets, “I hope you’re planning to clear the way with that thing!!!” She didn’t know if they heard, but she would trust that they weren’t going to waste it on trying to shoot a sniper or something.

It was really time that she did something. Just hiding behind a truck was just pathetic. Slapping herself once, she crouched back down and crawled towards the body in front of the truck. Even if I die, I can say that I tried to do something. With more difficulty than it probably should’ve been, she dragged the body out of the way. Adrenaline, tension, and the tiny sane and calm portion of her mind were the only things keeping her from joining the frenzied people running around in fear. Or maybe the fact that she could probably die at any moment just wasn't sinking in yet. Either way, she was glad that she wasn't nerve-wrecked to the point of fainting or screaming hysterically.

No time to feel guilty about any of this, she told herself as she moved more bodies away from the truck. She ducked as several bullets hit the truck and wondered if any of the other drivers had stayed in their vehicles. Highly unlikely. Guess I’ll leave that worry for the others. Once the alley was more or less clear enough, Sylvia ran, or tried as best as she could with shaky legs, back to the driver’s side of the truck and got into the seat. A lot of bodies were still littered around the alley, but there wasn't much she could do about those. Even though their situation hadn't improved one bit, she sighed in relief when she successfully slammed the door shut. Of course, the engine was still running from when it was abandoned. The bullet holes and cracked glass told her that this car wasn't bullet proof. I can see why the driver ran. Keeping her head as low as possible in the driver’s seat, she waited for the rocket to be fired.

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