Snippet #1192212

located in Omic, a part of Silverose, one of the many universes on RPG.


Capital of the Omicron, and the worst sleaze pit in the galaxy. Picture the Chicago of Al Capone. Very polluted. Nasty place to be, all said and done.


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Laryn was still forcibly leading Althya through the blaring sirens in the halls of the base. He turned a corner to the stampede of footsteps. He turned around with a cruse and wrenched at the nearest door. Which, in the course of the alarm, was locked tight. He cursed again as he found the nearest hallway was quite a distance away. Damn. He had wanted to avoid this... He released his grip on Althya's arm and walked around the corner, facing the batallion of guards coming at him. Laryn waited a second and then calmly stretched his left hand as they approached quickly on him. Suddenly Laryn's eyes shot to the stampede, as if suddenly noticing them. His eyes never changed as his left hand whipped in and out of his pocket. A glint of silver flipped up into the air and Laryn joined his index and middle fingers and clenched the rest except his thumb. Making the shape of a gun. By now the guards were right nearby and were already activating their weapons.
But unmoving, Laryn waited for the silver to pass back in front of his fingers, then he pulled the trigger.

A blast encompassed the majority of the hall eminating with electricity. It was a signature Laryn move, the railgun. One that was taught to him by Silver. Damn it where the hell was Silver anyway!?

Laryn dashed back around the corner to grab Althya again and continued running. He continued to run, releasing Althya's hand, having her run behind him. With his now free hand he reached into his pocket again, producing his comm. Turning it on he yelled into it.

"Cura! Where the hell are you anway. We're in the d*** base and you neglected to tell us where the hell to look for you!"

He wanted to get this over. He still had some unfinished business with a helmet to get to. But Cura came first.