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Silent Night.

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Silent Night.

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Stitches on Tue Oct 24, 2006 4:41 pm

Silent Night

Silent Night..
The Tower of Babel. That is how the building was most often described. It boasted an impressive number of 251 stories along with a beautiful glass ballroom on the sumit. This particular addition was used for distinguished parties and fund-raising events. It was called the "Glass Ballroom" because the ceiling, not surprisingly, was made purely of glass. It was the only place in New York were you could see the stars shine through the artificial haze which blanketed the night sky..

This awe-inspiring feature was built [under the instruction of a man named Kenji Kemp] for a good reason- He had moved with his mother, his father and his younger sibling to the land of opportunity when he was a mere 5 years old. After his family were torn apart due to unfortunate circumstances whilst he was still a young child [his mother and sister were tragically caught up in a drive by shooting, after which his alcoholic father later drunk himself to death] Kenji found himself moving from foster home to foster home. He soon realised that freedom was not free- and the only way he would make something of himself is if he worked, and worked damn hard. He started as any young child would- as a paper boy. It was Kenji's determination and drive that made him different from any other child of 8 years old. He worked, he saved, he invested. He was highly motivated, and after 60 long years he became the founder and president of Kemp Industries - which was easily the most wealthy company in America.

..The glass ballroom was built so that he could remind himself, and everybody who stepped foot in the spectacular room, in the beauty of dreams. Unlike the tower of Babel- this building was never designed to reach the Gods, it was designed to merely catch a glimpse of what splendor they must see from their grand height.

December 24th, 2010.

Christmas had quickly and quietly snuck up upon the employees of Kemp Industries. Every year on Christmas Eve they were invited to a joyous celebration at their place of work- arranged by none other than the president himself, Kenji Kemp. The party always took place on the two top floors- 250 and 251. There were plenty of guest rooms for the employees to smarten up in before they attended. These were situated on floors 246 to 249. It also meant that those few people who had younger children did not bother having to travel back at a ridicules time in the morning. Every year just short of a thousand people of all ages would attend this party. And every year at exactly 11: 30, they would gather in the glass ballroom for speech from Kenji and a toast to another successful year.

[hr]

Holy Night..
"Why will you not let me lead a normal life? I will never be able to live up to your expectations- I am aware of this fact. And deep down ..I know that the pair of you are too. I am not cut out for the high class buisness lifestyle that both you and mother lead. I am an artist- And if the pair of you would just take time out from your busy schedule and actually get to know me, you would realise that I am a damned good one. You are too wrapped up in your own lives that you do not even know who your own daughter is. I became estranged to you many ages ago- you don't know me, nor will you perhaps ever know me."

Autumn stood messily with one arm placed upon her hips. Whilst she was talking well-manicured nails vigorously made their way through long strands of un-kempt auburn brown hair. Standing at the exact height of 5'4'' she was certainly not the tallest 21 year old in the world. Autumn was not amazingly beautiful, and yet, she did have a certain allure the surrounded her. The warmth within her deep golden brown eyes was complimented only by a glow which radiated each and every time she smiled. It was a glow that would make even the warmest of hearts melt. Although of a skinny build- several years of kick boxing and other forms of self-defence had nicely toned her features.

"If that is the way you feel then why do you not leave? 'Ey? If you feel that way then surely you should stop living out of our pockets and remove yourself from our liv--"

A hand was gently placed on Brandon Mile's arm. The hand belonged to Autumn's mother. A kind-hearted woman who genuinely cared about the welfare of other people. Jade, like her argumentitive husband, worked for Kemp Industries. She was a motivational speaker and spokesperson who was extremely good at their job. If her only daughter flew the nest- Jade would be heart-broken. And all parties were aware of this fact. From the young age of 7, the couple had forced Autumn into the best schools in order to recieve the best education that she could possibly recieve. Despite this fact, Autumn rebeled- chasing the only subject that had really appealed to her. That subject being art and design. Instead of praising their daughter for the magnificent paintings and sketchings that she produced (many of which were hung in modern art galleries), they continually told the young woman that she was wasting her time, and insisted that there was no place in modern day society for an artist. Autumn had saved since she was 14 years old in order to live her own life. She had worked her way from an ordinary table waitress to manager of a rather large catering name. She always paid her own way, which is why she resented her father's previous comment so much. So many times she had packed her bags and ordered plane tickets. But, she could not find it in herself to leave- for she knew that even if her mother did not always show it (infact she rarely ever showed it), she did in all honesty love her daughter. The trouble was, although she tried exceptionally hard, Jade had no idea how to be a parent and could not relate to Autumn in the slightest.

"..Just go up and enjoy the rest of the party. Don't let me ruin the night. I do know how much this means to you but, despite this fact, I will not be attending with you. Please, please.. Just let me be. I'll wait here for you to return." I may even just retire early- I can feel a slight migrane coming along."

Brandon scowled, whilst Jade frantically tried to iron out the slight creases in his designer suit with the back of her hand. They both knew that their daughter was stubborn, and they did force her to attend this festivity when she had other ideas..

Racing through the streets of New York, the fancy, festive lights reflecting in her eyes whilst she and her companions sang Christmas songs both loudly and incoherently. She wanted to move from club to club, dancing to a variety of different music in each one. She wanted to frolic, she wanted to misbehave, but most of all she wanted that little bit of freedom that she was never allowed to have. It was "dangerous in those sorts of places". It was dangerous everywhere..

"You look stunning, mother."

She stood on her tip-toes, and kissed Jade's cheek. Opening the door for the pair as if to hurry them out of the room before they tried to physically drag her up their with them.

"See you later."

Jade and Brandon Miles walked towards the elevator at the end of the hallway, arm in arm. Autumn watched them walk way up before shutting the room door. She sighed a half-hearted sigh, as she pressed her back against the wall. Raising her head, she felt a lonely tear escape the corner of her eye and run swiftly down her rosy left cheek.

[hr]

All Is Calm..
December the 24th, 11:49pm.

The gunshot echoed throughout the room striking terror into the hearts of all the guests. There was complete and utter chaos for several seconds before another gunshot was fired.

"If you all value your lives I suggest that you stop screaming and stand perfectly still whilst I address you."

The terrorist's attack was planned and calculated down to the last minor detail. They had the entire building surrounded. They knew when the guests were at their most vunerable, and they struck at that time, trapping everybody in the glass ballroom. They had written up a list of demands- Demands that if not met at a certain time would result in the death of a hostage. The situation was critical, there were very young children in the room.

[hr]

All Is Bright..
"What the f.."

Autumn reached across the fancy glass coffee table, picking up the remote control for the television. Without much hesitation she pressed the red button, turning it off completely. Although dazed and somewhat confused, she quickly sat in an upright position. It had been just over an hour since her parents had departed up to the very top floor of the building and in their absense Autumn had decided to make good use of the guest room's facilities. She had helped herself to the finest complimentary bottle of wine that was sitting in an ice bucket in the small kitchen area, after which she made herself comfy on the teal coloured sofa, switched on the television and channel surfed for a good few minutes before choosing to watch "Die Hard". The film was drawing to a close, when she could of sworn she heard a large explosion of some kind. Possibly a firework, but it sounded more like a gun being fired and echoing down the narrow hall corridors. At first she had thought it came from the television, after all- she did have an action movie on. It was only after the second shot, that she had decided to investigate further into the distressing noice. Her heartbeat quickened, and she bravely crept towards the entrance. She pressed her ear up against the cold door and listened strenuously, trying to hear what all of the commotion was about.

"Calm down Autumn, you're just being paranoid. You may be alone down here, but everybody else is only two floors up. Yeah, that's it you're just being para-.."

Before she could finish her sentence she heard the sound of a door being open with incredible force. She placed her hand over her mouth to cover the sound of a surprised shriek. She then heard the sound of several pairs of feet run into the room. It sounded as if the contents of the room were being scattered. She could here men's voices but, could not quite understand what they were saying.

"Everyone upstairs", "prisoners", "more hostages", "shoot them".

Her legs were frozen in fear, her heart beat quickened as she tried to figure out what she should do. Lock the door..? No. Whoever it was would have no trouble breaking through that door. She needed to hide. As quietly as she could, she turned off the main light- using the light of her cell phone to brighten up the room. At first she kicked her boots off, as the floor lacked carpet. She promptly dashed into the kitchen, looking for something to protect herself with. She eventually picked out a knife, which she tied to the side of her leg, underneath her jeans with a simple towel. Now she had to find a safe place to hide. There was a small gap behind the wooden bookcase in the first room. Again using her cell pone to light the way- she squeezed herself into the miniture gap, she closed her eyes and tried to regulate her heavy breathing.

"Please, please ..don't let them find me."

[hr]

Sleep In Heavenly Peace.. [OOC];
Terrorists: Have the building surrounded. It is a very thought-out operation which probably took years of careful planning to pull off.

Police, SWAT Team, FBI: Have come to the rescue. But, how do you deal with something this delicate? It is the job of these people to make sure that this situation is dealt with- with as little humanitarian cost as possible. The lives of ordinary adults and children are in grave danger, so the rescue mission has to be well thought-out.

Civilians: Unlucky enough to get caught up in the chaos. These are your average upper-class joes.

Which role you take on during this RPG is completely up to you. I want to leave the demands of the terrorists up to whoever would like to take on the role of a terrorist/ terrorist leader.

[hr]

Sleep In Heavenly Peace.
She bit down hard on her bottom lip, as the door to the room was kicked open with great force. She bit so hard that she pierced the skin, causing a tiny amount of blood to lace her mouth, causing a sharp iron taste. She remained as quiet as a mouse, as she listened to three men race around the room knocking the furniture over, searching for any signs of life.

"There's no one here, lets move onto the next."

She noted the callous tone of his voice. They entered just as quickly as they arrived, moving on to the next guestroom. She kept perfectly still whilst she waited till she could no longer hear any trace of the intruders. Fearing for her parent's lives, Autumn knew that she would have to somehow inform the outside world of what was going on. Even though she personally did not quite know what was going on herself. She laughed a nervous laugh. Before muttering a few silent words to herself-

"Merry Christmas.."

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Stitches
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Tips: 0.00 INK Postby K-sama on Tue Jan 23, 2007 9:28 pm

Silent Night..
"DAMMIT!"

The sheer volume of the man's voice made everyone jump. Sgt. Eric McMullan, captain of the New York Police Department, was known for having a hot-temper and reckless attitude. Usually. Hostages was a different situation entirely. And once he heard of the location of the crime, he was about as pissed off as possible. Why did it have to be there? Tonight? Kemp Industries was a very well-known business, this party was very well-known, and he'd be damned if he didn't have at least four officers working on securing the building tonight, just so this sort of thing wouldn't happen. They'd better be dead, or Eric would do worse.

"Shut up!" From nearby, the only person who hadn't gotten distracted shouted back. "I'm working on finding a way in! And you are disturbing my concentration!" All this time, her eyes never strayed from the laptop in her lap. Emily DuLaine, one of the best computer hackers and statisticians in the FBI. At the moment, she had a copy of the building's blueprints in front of her, edited to include probable locations of terrorists.

"Yeah, well, hurry up with it! We're running short on time!" Came the Seargeant's impatient protest.

"Shut UP!! Someone, shut him up!" Instantly, two other members of the FBI walked over to Sgt. McMullan and began beseeching him in low voices not to disturb her work. Emily was a genius, and with a computer in front of her, and a notepad beside it, she was invincible.

Holy night..
Emily blinked at what she saw on the screen. It couldn't be that easy, it just couldn't. She'd overlooked it at first, but... "I need eleven men. At least four specialists and at least three officers. Three leaders, not included among these. The last should be quick, quiet, and armed to the teeth. All of them, not afraid to get a little messy."

Immediately orders were barked to all three divisions. Two FBI members, three cops, and seven SWAT team members were all gathered. Emily pointed to the screen, outside the building.

"Sewers." she said. "There's a huge sewage line underneath this building. In the basement is a laundry room. You," she said, pointing to the FBI agent 'armed to the teeth', in her words, "Are to blow open a pipe when he," She said, pointing to the other agent, "Tells you there's a room on the other side. One-by-one is the only way you'll fit in. Ditch your clothes, rinse off in the laundry water, and put on whatever you find there. From there, two cops will separate." She pointed to the map. "Go here."

Emily turned to another agent. "Ted! Print out copies of the blueprints! I want nine of 'em!" Emily then took up the hardcopy. "The agent that blasted you guys in is going to wait in the laundry room. We want reports. You'll all have bugs. When you get a moment, send us one. The other agent is in charge of this. If something goes wrong, if a group is killed, haul ass out of there to tell us. We'll form a new plan."

"Back to the plan. The two going there will find a terrorist, on that side of the building, and, being loud; you were guards in the bathroom, or hiding; I don't care, make it up; you'll draw attention. The rest of you! Silence is the key word. There'll be eight of you; at the very most, three are allowed to run off to get civilians out of there. The other five will continue upwards. Reach the elevators when you start to hear voices of any sort. Two people, two elevators. ONLY two. Rock-paper-scissors, I don't care. This is more dangerous. Set the elevators to the top floor. Then, around 230, get the emergency door open. Manually stop the elevator; pick the locks, whatever, in between floors. BEFORE you reach 245. Force open the elevator doors, and look for civilians in their rooms. Get them in the elevators and close the emergency doors. It'll be safer there. Then, contact us and we'll give you orders. The rest: Stairs. Good luck. Now, Get the hell out of my sight and save these people!"

Shepherds quake..
They all moved quietly; it was to be expected. Not a single member of them had less than three guns. And all were loaded with spare ammunition. Specific orders were given the man 'armed to the teeth' about how he should use quiet explosives, which he was then given. Really more of an acid than an explosive, it all amounted to the same thing. They'd get in without the terrorists knowing.

Among the team members, one of the leaders, one Michael Leighton, scrutinized the others. Sure, he knew two of the other SWAT members, he'd gone through training camp with them. The two officers, the ones assigned to cause the diversion, though, they.... he didn't like it. They were chopped liver, and that FBI woman had basically sentenced them to death. He was sure they had family... what would he do, if he came out of the building alive, but they'd died? How would he ever be able to face their families? "Oh, they were great men, it was brave of them to be scapegoats for us. Oh, no, we knew we were sentencing them to death the moment we agreed to this plan, but it was for the better good. They couldn't have been that good, right?" The mere idea nauseated him.

Mike nevertheless geared up and walked over to the manhole they were to jump in, following behind the two FBI members. Everyone else followed him, and they tramped their way through layers of filth and water no dog would drink. Mike was glad they'd been given high rubber boots; he didn't want to feel this stuff in his feet. He'd make sure to wash off good once he'd gotten inside. Mike didn't even scratch his itching stubble. He was too lazy to shave, most days, so the hair was slowly creeping down his cheeks, as it was wont to do. He already had a goatee started. It didn't look too bad; he might keep it. Mike hadn't taken out the old piercings he still kept from his high school days: two in the left ear, one in the right. He hadn't had time. The call he'd recieved was urgent. He didn't even time to change into somewhat work-type clothes, from the suit he was wearing that night at church. Thank God he always forgot to turn off his cell phone, no pun intended. Mike was just attending midnight vigil, a service which at his family's church began at 11:00 and ended at 1:00. Two hours might seem like a long time, but it was actually pretty fun. They had a feast from 12 to 12:30 and from then on was more of a party. But Mike had been taken out of church just as the priest was calling all the members into communion. So, being the good Catholic boy he was, he bowed low, said a small prayer for forgiveness, and apologized before bolting out of the chapel as fast as his two legs could carry him.

At the sight..
A small, muted clang was all they heard when the agent opened up the hole in the pipe. As promised, they had to fit single-file in that pipe. Regardless, it was still a gigantic pipe. But then, the Tower of Babel was a gigantic building. It shouldn't be surprising, having to take the crap of over two and a half hundred floors. Luckily for all of them they had two agents helping them out. Mike had no idea how they'd managed to stay up there whilst they made a doorway in the pipe.

Once through, a mixture of gestures and muted whispers directed orders. The two officers, being the ones who were definitely going to be seen, were to wash off first. How? Open up the full washing machines, take off their clothes, and jump in. They could scrub themselves off with the stuff inside. Sure, bleach wasn't good for your skin, but hostages, terrorists, and dying police officers were worse. After them, it was a hysterical dash to the other five washing machines. Mike was not one of the lucky ones; he was held up trying to get his shirt unbuttoned. Damn them in their T-shirts..... and he'd soiled one of his best suits. At least he wasn't wearing the tie his father had given him. He gave that to a friend of his who'd stayed back.

They all got clean, eventually, and thankfully they found more than just towels in the clean washing bins. Though those were useful too. The officers who were to be a diversion had brought separate uniforms in airtight bags to change into. It was EXTREMELY unlikely they'd find police uniforms amongst this hotel/business skyscraper's laundry.

Christ the Savior is born..[OOC];
Hah! Yay for mimicking style..... >)

uhm, yeah. These three are MINE. *hordes* hope you don't mind me having three characters. o.o Mike's gonna be the most active. Oh, and if I switch to calling him Mikey, I'm sorry. It's his old nickname; and what I've used for him in the past. ....right.

Christ the Savior is born.
Mike's ear-bud crackled to life. "Hello? This is a test. Respond with your name, please, if you hear me." Mike waited for his group to finish their barely-audible murmurs before responding, "Mike Leighton."

"........good. That's all of you. Keep in touch. Jeremy, tell me how far along everyone is."
Mike's group continued on, ignoring her comment. Except for Jeremy, of course, who was muttering inaudibly into his bug. Oh God, Mike hoped they weren't going to die. Out of reflex as much as anything, he began silently repeating the Hail Mary. Occasionally, his lips would move to it, but this prayer which from childhood was burned into his memory raced through his thoughts, relaxing him mostly because he was thinking on it and not on the terrorists they might face. Because that thought made him more scared than he needed to be. Mike needed to be calm. And repeating something such as the Hail Mary was a great way to take his mind off of that which distressed him.

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