Alex Hunt's Story

OOC NOTES:

• Please make sure you have read the entire introduction and also the information written under the ‘Culprit City’ place page, found under the ‘Places’ tab. This will give you information on the armoury, the SafeSite building and how rule breaking will be dealt with. Rule breaking includes the removal of Criminal/Hero bands.
• I suggest that any combat between played characters be written collaboratively. (TitanPad)
• Do not feel the need to match the word count of this post. I’d much prefer shorter posts around 300-500 words, though. This is not a rule.
• Players are placed randomly across the city. You may choose where. I hope everyone spreads themselves out decently. Weapons have to be gained inside the city; they did not enter with any. All are currently wearing the same black outfit from head to toe, consisting of: boots, trousers, a T-shirt and a waterproof jacket with pockets.
• Anything that is not addressed in the introduction or in the Culprit City place page that you wish to know, post in the OOC.

The atmosphere inside Station 7 was electric. Fittingly, a lightning storm was raging outside but it did little to dampen and destroy the mood. The Station was well protected, and the people inside were safe. The same could not be said for those which the hundreds of screens inside the main room of the ‘Culprit City’ floor in Station 7 depicted. The mostly haunted and gaunt faces of the criminals peered out from many, their expressions ranging from desperate to determined to downright disgusted, getting drenched in the downpour. Other screens showed Heroes, marked by the green bands around their arms rather than the red, criminal ones. It rained down on them, too, though it did not make them look desolate as it did the more helpless criminals, nor as evil as the more frightening ones. The water which ran down their figures made their faces gleam. It highlighted their straight, strong shoulders and confident stances. It painted them formidably. The panoramic screen with took pride of place in the Station showed Culprit City’s clumsy skyline. Dark clouds filled the sky above, but the rain was lightening up.

Soon, all of the ‘players’ were in their randomly allocated starting positions and left to soak until the klaxon roared. The sound of tapping keys and excited chatter on the floor was dying down as the moment to Culprit City’s first ever broadcast drew closer. Station 7’s employees settled into a more professional manner, speaking when needed in sure tones. And then – he arrived. Barely on time. The man wore a leather trench coat, still flecked with raindrops. A trilby hat cast his spectacled eyes into shadow. All very mysterious. But as to who this man was: there was no mystery. The Announcer was known worldwide for his deep, dramatic and demanding voice. He was the God of all commentators. And Station 7 was honoured. The Announcer took his place in the prepared booth, removed his hat and straightened his spectacles on his particularly bulbous nose. He wet his lips with the glass of water which was at the ready, and looked to his set up of prompts and CCTV feedback. The Announcer nodded.

The countdown began. At zero, the title sequence rolled out to millions then continued on to a prepared montage of introductory information and a selection of interviews from both criminals and heroes. It was produced dramatically; all quick cuts, dark lighting and tense music. Finally, the broadcast cut to Culprit City’s advanced camera system. They scanned and swooped, bringing up the faces of various players and theatrical shots of the city. The perfect visuals for The Announcer, whose voice now boomed out across Culprit City from speakers atop the street lights, addressing the audience but heard also by the players:

“Ladies and gentleman, we invite you - the victims of years of criminal activity – to observe as justice is served. We promise you an entertaining watch. We seek your vengeance.” A lengthy pause began, filled by silence and the face currently on screen; a thug-like character, a criminal, lips pressed into a straight line and eyes staring with menace.

“Each of our players has had a chip implanted into their brain which runs off the electrical impulses. We can use this to track our players, and also determine which have died.

Our maintenance force of highly-trained and protected members of the Station 7 team will be accessing the Culprit City set to deal with bodies and any rule breaking… We are not lenient in our punishments. Quite the opposite.” an ominous and spontaneous chuckle escaped from The Announcer, but it only added to the performance.

“Our players have all been informed of the rules, but are going to be a little lost in this city, don’t you think? Well, that’s why we’ve hidden maps across the city. 100 in total. Getting hold of one of these would give a huge advantage.

Now, join me as we launch this innovative way of presenting righteousness to those who deserve it . Inspired by the graphic novel by Jia Jiu… This is Culprit City.”

The screen went black.
Five seconds passed.
A countdown clock appeared on the screen.
3… 2… 1…

The klaxon sounded.



TASKS:
♦ Attempt to find a map.
♦ Get hold of a weapon of sorts.
♦ Find a base, somewhere for your character/s to reside. Perhaps alone, perhaps with allies. Find your territory.
♦ Interact with at least one other played character.

It was with a leisurely stride that Alex Hunt made his way through the run-down park that surrounded the armoury. Other heroes were running here and there, making their way to and from the armoury in enough quantity that this area was almost totally clear of criminals. It had been easy enough to find the place, after acquiring the map that had oh-so-conveniently been hidden mere feet away from his starting location - nothing to do with the careful bribing he'd been doing in the lead-up to the show, of course. Whoever hid the maps and decided the 'random' start locations couldn't have had anything to do with that, or him having had a clear run from his start point to the armoury, either. The statue loomed up ahead, and he made his way over to the turnstile. He flashed a smile to the camera, and after a moment, he heard the electronic lock beep as it was released. He walked in.

A flight of stairs later, the armoury was laid out before him. He whistled in appreciation. "Ahh, now that's a sight to bring a tear to your eye." he said, "Let's see here... I'll have you, and you... and one of these... a few of these..."

He sauntered through the racks and racks of weapons like a kid at a toy store, picking his favourites out and shoving extra supplies into a duffel bag backpack.

It was a good thing that his education had included weapons knowledge, Alex thought to himself. The benefits of being in line to inherit a weapons manufacturer were coming into their own.

He picked up an M4 rifle, a .45 handgun, a pair of suppressors, a few varieties of scope, and all the ammo he could feasibly carry.

But that was just the start. He'd ... arranged for something of a secret stash to be prepared for him. Stuff the others wouldn't have access to. Grenades, night vision goggles, claymores... yes, he was going to be primed to take this city by storm.

Alex made his way over to the locker that contained his stash and opened it, to find ... a note. "Nice try" was all it said.

"Fuck!" he swore, scowling angrily. "I paid good money for that! When I get out of here, someone is going to be out of a job..." he muttered, harrumphing. He supposed that what he had would have to do.

As he walked back towards the exit, he grabbed a combat knife and sheath from a table and fastened it around his torso. He slotted the sight and suppressor onto his rifle, and made for the door. It was time to Hunt bitches.

Heheh. That pun was still funny.

Alex was getting peckish. A quick glance at the map revealed the location of the SafeSite where food and living quarters could be easily accessed, but he decided that for the moment, going there to set up shop wasn't entertaining enough for the viewers watching. After all, he was a Hero. He had to act like one. And that meant going and shooting some horribly barbaric criminals.

He chuckled at the thought. He was under no illusion that this endeavour was "right", but in the long run, who cared what was right and what was wrong?

His thoughts were interrupted as he passed by the theatre, moving towards the restaurants. A group of criminals, probably about half a dozen, rounded the corner in front of him. The first thing they spotted was the bright green armband he wore. The second thing was the rifle.

Alex grinned. "Afternoon, ladies and gents." he said, cocking the gun towards them. "Can anyone here claim to outrun a bullet?"

A uncomfortable silence was his reply, as the group sized up the distance between them - short - and whether he'd actually be able to hit them. It was true, he looked like a kid who'd just found a gun, not someone who actually knew how to use it.

At least one of them decided to take their chances.

Alex ducked to the side as a brick was tossed at his head, and the group took that as their cue to charge. He tightened his lips. "Guess we're about to find out." he muttered as he pulled the trigger.

It was all over in seconds. The gun sounded in precise bursts, dropping each of the attackers to the ground in a slowly growing puddle of red. It was a massacre. Improvised weapons lay dropped on the ground where they had fallen.

Alex looked at the corpses with narrowed eyes, shaking his head. "You guys really deserved that, charging a guy with an M4. Like, come on. That's Darwin award material."

He chuckled to himself, slinging the rifle over his shoulder and continuing on his way. So much for the most dangerous game.

Lorelei bounded up the stairs to the second floor, figuring there was less chance of being found there. She hoped most people would see that there was no sign of life on the ground and first floor and leave it at that. She chose an apartment that had a view down the street, heading towards the restaurants so she could see if anyone was coming near the apartment block. She lay every the knives out on the windowsill. She kept the spit in her hand, twisting the point in the ground. The apartment was unnervingly empty. There was no furniture to capture the echo, each movement bouncing back to her. Lorelei figured that they had ran out of time or money or both by the time they got to the second floor.

Lorelei took a shaky breath. She would have to head back out soon. She would need food, water, perhaps a change of clothes. Lorelei checked the map. There was a department store on the corner of Eastway and First. That was good. It wasn't that far. The only problem was that it was very close to the armoury. There was going to be a lot of heroes there. Lorelei dragged her bottom lip through her teeth. Well, wasn't that just fantastic. Her stomach rumbled. Looks like she was going to have to get food sooner rather than later. She slipped the spit back through her belt loop, taking the three largest knives with her. Closing the door as quietly as she could, in case there was anyone else in the building, Lorelei padded down the stairs to the ground floor, a knife raised in preparation of attack.

Approaching the first intersection, Eastway and Third Street, Lorelei heard a rattle of gunfire. Pinning herself to the wall, Lorelei felt fear grip her. She thought she had been afraid before, but this was different. This went beyond fight or flight. She felt like she couldn't breathe. What the hell was a spit roast spear going to do against a... Well, whatever type of gun that was? She might not even have time to check her map before whoever it was found her. She wasn't sure she could handle killing another person so soon after her first kill. Hell, she didn't want to kill anyone. That wasn't what she did. Taking a final gasp of breath, Lorelei darted behind the restaurants, hiding in the alleyway. She slowly edged away from Eastway Avenue, peaking around the corner to check the coast was clear. She caught the eye of a fellow red band, nodding in acknowledgement. He barely nodded back, figuring she wasn't worth dealing with right now. They all had bigger fish to fry. Like the fact they were hilariously out armed by the heroes. He pointed across to the next restaurant. Lorelei took the hint and darted across the alleyway, almost barreling into a bin. She hastily unfurled the map. According to this, if she darted up the alley, she could be behind another store straight across the street. She looked down the alley. The map was right.

Lorelei slowly made her way up the alley, saving her energy for the dart across the road. Taking a bullet to the leg didn't really sound like a good idea. Checking the coast was clear, or at least the gun wielding maniac wasn't looking her way, Lorelei sprinted across the street, doing her best to ignore the bodies lying there in the road. She heard a shriek and a green band came charging at her, a sledgehammer raised above her head. There's a lot to be said for stealth Lorelei thought numbly, raising her knife to cut across the green band's neck. She couldn't have been much older than her, Lorelei thought, looking down at her sadly as she choked, "I'm sorry," She whispered before taking off, realising that the abrupt end to the girl's shriek might well have attracted some attention. The department store was close now.

Finding the entrance, Lorelei slipped in, keeping her knife raised defensively. She was aware that she probably looked ridiculous. Everything in the department store looked insanely neat. An irrational urge to trash the place bubbled up inside Lorelei, but she ignored it. Wandering around, Lorelei felt herself begin to relax, there were comparatively few places to hide here. She wandered down the aisle, stepping over another body. Older than her, she noted. She across to other red bands, a blonde woman and a burly looking guy carrying a lot of cables. She held her hands up as a sign of peace, hooking the knife back in her pocket when she realised a raised knife probably didn't look that innocent, "Just looking for clothes," She explained before heading down the aisle. She grabbed a checked blue shirt, slipping it on and sliding her armband back on. She grabbed a pair of trainers, which were much more comfortable than her current shoes, and a rucksack. She wriggled her feet into the trainers before heading back to find the pair, "You can use my apartment for whatever is you two are planning. Well, it's not really mine, but I've adopted it for the time being. I figure we're better off together than we are alone," She said with a small shrug, "Offers there if you want it."

Kills:2 (green)

Hieronymus was lucky. He had found a criminal in the high school, and one who seemed to have had some food on him. After talking it out, the man agreed to give Hieronymus a bag with a sandwich in it, in exchange for 2 of Hieronymus's explosives. It was steep, but he could always make more. Besides, the acid was quieter, and could melt through walls. They made the exchange, and Hieronymus journeyed back to his base, and finished the what he was working on. It took only a few more minutes, but he had completed it.

The device in question was a PDA. Handheld, and light, he had made it by taking apart some of the computers that he had in his base. The hardest part was taking the screens apart with the correct measurements, since he had to be careful not to shatter them. Once the device was working, he looked at the sandwich, and sniffed it before taking a bite to eat. The plastic container looked unopened, but he could not be sure. After eating the whole thing in a few bites, Hieronymus looked out the window. The sandwich was poison-free, but that reminded him of the woman in the hospital. He heard a few nearby bangs a short while earlier, and he needed to see what had gone on. Looking out the window, he saw the pink-haired woman dragging the two men he dropped down into the hospital. Looks like they were going to be taken care of. Then there were the rest of the figures in the area. He had not taken the time to look at them closely, other than to determine that they were heroes. There were two men, one of which wore a mask, and the other who acted like a trained soldier. A trained soldier would be good to have as an ally, but this person would likely not be the one be that ally. Hieronymus thought about the soldiers that had entered Culprit City. Hieronymus had fought like a soldier for a long while, as a trader. He had no training, but he did fight people that did. He hasn't kept up with the way military training had changed ever since he came to a safe-city. That would mean that, even though he was a formidable opponent, some people would be able to defeat him in hand-to-hand. He had to learn the tricks, at some point.

Coming back to focus on the task, he also saw a woman. She was fit, and seemed to be working together with the man. Well, since these two were working together and there were 2 other heroes around the hospital, Hieronymus decided to stop playing with his luck, and decided to go out, looking for potential allies, or supplies, or something useful. He already had a lot of useful items, and the PDA would help him work with the electronic equipment he would build. Taking more explosive devices to replace the ones he had lost, Hieronymus left the room, and ran down the stairs to leave the high school by going to the department store on 3rd Avenue.

Hieronymus looked at the road ahead of him. Restaurants were probably the best bet for food. Department stores were probably where people who wanted to kill themselves went to. There were probably a lot of people there. Either other criminals he would need to fight over supplies, or heroes looking for a lot of targets to shoot. Whatever the case, he thought he needed food. And besides, cooking was similar to chemistry. There was sure to be something that he could take and use for more than eating. The sniper from earlier did not shoot Hieronymus as he ran across third avenue to make his way through Ali street. Hieronymus had a map, but had found little use for it until he realized he needed food. That was a major help as he made his way to the restaurants. Otherwise, he would not know where they were.

The sound of gunshots rang out, as he approached the side of one of the restaurants. Hieronymus ducked behind a dumpster, and saw a blonde hero, very heavily armed, fire and take out a crowd. Hieronymus practically licked his lips, at the thought of killing him and taking his weapons. Especially with how readily he killed a crowd. But, Hieronymus was too clear-headed to do this. Hunger came before killing. Hieronymus waited until he did not hear very much at all. The street was quiet, and as such, Hieronymus imagined the sizzling of steak, and the boiling of lobster. What snapped him out of his trance was the rapid patting of feet approaching the restaurant.

Without checking to see if it was friend or foe, Hieronymus decided to make his business brief. He stepped back, pushed a make-shift button on some of the acidic compound he had with him, as he threw the uncapped it and splashed it on the brick wall of the restaurant. The point Hieronymus splashed the acid on was slightly higher than his own head, but the acid was potent enough to melt the wall all the way to his feet. And, it was wide enough to get in, if Hieronymus turned to his side. After a few more splashes of the acid, the wall was completely melted through. Hieronymus got in and ran into the kitchen of the restaurant after putting the empty container back in his coat pocket. He drew the nail-gun as he saw that the kitchen had a hero in it. One who was also looking for food it seemed. She was a woman of average height, and who, interestingly, had shaved her head. Hieronymus stood behind her as she searched the fridge. She, being in the kitchen, probably couldn't have heard the slight sizzling of the restaurant wall. Hieronymus scratched the back of his head before putting the nail-gun back in his coat, and knocking out the woman by suffocation. That was when Hieronymus began to search the fridge himself. He had found some deli-meats, a bag of salad, and some cheese. Yum. He could mic them all to make a delicious salad. But first...

Hieronymus turned around. He could pack the food later. Now, he had to prepare for a confrontation with the source of those patting feet. Hieronymus hid behind the kitchen wall as he peered out at the front door, to see if anyone was entering.

Hieronymus looked out from behind the wall of the kitchen, with another sandwich in his mouth. He saw the three come in, but didn't see their armbands. Welp, that was unfortunate. Hieronymus took the sandwich out of his mouth with one hand, and his other hand prepared to aim the nail-gun. He moved from cover, and then took aim with his one hand. That was, before he saw the red armbands.

There were two women, and 1 man. One woman was blonde, and lithe. She probably would do well in this kind of thing. She was composed, and professional, it seemed. Maybe she was an assassin or a soldier. The big guy holding the sledgehammer was scarier than either of his companions, but the way he failed at spinning the sledgehammer had a disarming effect on Hieronymus. He'd be careful around this guy, just as much as he would be around any other giant criminal. Well, whatever. The last one in the band was a girl with brown hair, and a cooking spit. She looked uncomfortable, to say the least. Well, who wouldn't be? Especially since she was on the criminal side.

Hieronymus lowered the gun upon seeing all three of them. His gaze remained on them, ready to act if they did anything.

"My name is Hieronymus, and would any of you like some coffee? There's some in the kitchen."

Hieronymus was never very good with people. He barely spoke, and had very few acquaintances. When he was a trader, he was not the leader of the trading company he worked for. He tended to just help them crunch numbers when they didn't have a calculator. Or repair their things, or make some goods that they could use to make some areas livable again. For instance, a machine that could produce electricity from air. And not by spinning a turbine, but by taking the latent electrical potential of air, and harnessing it when the air was pushed into the device's surface. Aesthetically, it looked like a sail for a boat. When he became a scientist, there was also less time to be friendly with others. He would go days without speaking to anyone, or weeks. After becoming a criminal, he didn't speak very much, even. Hieronymus quickly became nervous, and scratched the back of his head, a gesture he often made when he stopped to make a choice.

The entire time it took him to remember this, less than a second, he kept his eyes trained on the trio in front of him.

"This isn't a time to be relaxing with drinks." Anya replied curtly, "We're here for some supplies. You responsible for that acid? I'm guessing you didn't just find that by lucky chance. If you're capable with chemicals, then you'll be useful. I have a plan. You can tag along if you want, or you can let us get on with it. I'll explain what the plan is when we're not being watched." There was no mincing of words with her - she was methodical, and to the point. She doubted somewhere as central as these restaurants would be devoid of cameras, and was relying on finding a corner of an office somewhere without cameras turned on it.

Without waiting for a response, she was already moving through to the kitchen, pulling out some salt and bottled water and stuffing them into her bag. "We want to move quickly, there's an armed hero around here somewhere judging by the bodies in the street. We don't want to be caught off-guard. If there's a chance to ambush them, take it. Otherwise let's keep moving."

***

Alex, in the meantime, wasn't as close as Anya had feared. Upon seeing the melted wall of the restaurant, he had made a decision that could have been called wise, or could have been called cowardly. Either worked. He decided to go and find easier victims, rather than ones that could spray acid, or whatever had melted that wall.

He was currently sauntering through the department store to the east, taking potshots at fleeing criminals through the kitchenware. Like a bull in a china shop, but if the bull had a high-powered rifle.