Introduction
Now he is desperate, collecting a team of assassins. Some are on his side, have been on his side for a while now. Others, he is tracking down, most don't come quietly, though. After all, they are some of the worlds most deadly assassins, known for their clever ways of killing people. Some use current technology, others go for bows and arrows. Whatever works for them. Either way, he has been tracking down these assassins, to kill a six year old.
Her older sister is also spectacular, age 14, but turning fifteen soon. She has extraordinary senses, her hearing and sight off the charts. The one major thing, however, is that she has a mental connection to the little girl, but she doesn't know it. What this means is she has this random voice in her head that she doesn't know who it belongs to. However, it is her younger sister and she doesn't know it yet, as the voice has no certain sound (can not tell if male, female, young, old). She, like her younger sister, has wings, fast healing times, great reflexes, immune to most diseases, but also vulnerable to ones normal humans aren't, light bones, and has to eat a lot to survive. Currently, she is held captive by the scientist so they can get info out of her.
Six year old/female/face Claim: Mackenzie Foy/TAKEN: Haas33
Sixteen year old/female/Face Claim: Emma Watson/OPEN!
The scientist/male/Face Claim: Johnny Depp/TAKEN
Little Red: Little red is a younger assassin, only 18 years old, but she is very vicious. Her fast speed and reflexes, plus cleverness that could knock your socks off make her deadly in fights. She doesn't normally play by the rules and is good with improvising. Her favorite weapon is two daggers. Her nickname is due to her clothing: though bold looking, she wears a red hood. Female/Against scientist/Face Claim: Dakota Fanning/TAKEN: (by me)
Whiplash: She has a peculiar fighting style. Using a whip with a serrated edge, she can handle both hand to hand combat, and somewhat long range. The whip the her is almost an extension to her arm. She is so comfortable with it, she uses it for many things. She uses it to grab weapons out of people's hands, trip them, or flip people by wrapping it around an oncoming fist then yanking hard. Female/Loyal to scientist, is sent to get Robin Hood/Face Claim: Taylor Momsen/TAKEN
Blade: She specializes in fencing and sword play, favoring her katanas and rapiers. She doesn't like short blades or long range weapons. Her slashes and swings are fast and well placed, even used to block arrows, other knives, and sometimes, from far away, bullets. Female/Against Scientist/Face Claim: Nina Dobrev/TAKEN
Shadow: He normally uses the element of surprise. An expert when it comes to camouflage, nobody normal sees him coming. He tends to lurk in the shadows hidden, patient, ready to strike. His moves never create any sound, and are quite graceful, precise, thought out. Though he doesn't have a preferred combat style, nobody really sees him coming. Therefore, he normally just uses a knife, slitting somebodies throat before they know it. However, he is also an expert knife thrower. When fought against, he is normally on the defense. He doesn't let him be seen for long range weapons to work, and when up close, he tends to do the unexpected. One minute somebody is charging towards him, the next he is gone. Male/Loyal to scientist, sent to get Little Red/Face Claim: Alex Pettyfer/TAKEN
Robin Hood: also oddly young, he, though unusual for this time era, specializes in a bow and arrow. His aim is spectacular, but don't think he can only do long range attacks. His bow is rather unique, made specially for him. The ends of the bow are sharp tipped, doubling as a makeshift two-sided sword. Though he doesn't specialize in sword-play, this addition to his bow has saved him a couple times in close quarters. Male/Against scientist/Face Claim: Logan Lerman/TAKEN
Bullseye: Bullseye is an expert when it comes to guns. From hand guns to grenade launchers to sniper rifles, he handles them all, and is deadly with them. He is known to carry six guns, but people say he carries more. With expert aiming, his combat style is deadly. However, don't think he is good with bow and arrows. He is not. In fact, he is quite terrible. Male/Loyal to Scientist, sent to get Blade/Face Claim: Kellan Lutz/OPEN!
The Wild Card: Following a set of moral values, he goes his own ways. he uses a profit/loss system that sometimes gets him enemies. Feared, but also hunted, most of the world is knowledgable of this man. Gifted in explosives, he also hs a vast knowledge of guns. Male/Face Claim: Jared Leto/TAKEN
Character skeleton:
- Code: Select all
[center][b][size=200](put name here)[/size][/b][/center]
[center][img](put image here, preferably a gif)[/img][/center]
[center][size=200][b]Nickname(s):[/b] (you don't have to have one...put here)
[b]Age:[/b] (assassins are normally 20-30, with the exception of Little red and robin hood)
[b]Gender:[/b] (put gender here)
[b]Role:[/b] (are you Whiplash, or Bullseye, or what?)
[/size][/center]
[center][size=200][b]Apearance[/b][/size][/center]
[center][img](another image here[/img][/center]
[size=150][center][b]Eye Color:[/b] (can be different from picture)
[b]Hair Color:[/b] (can also be different from picture)
[b]Height:[/b] (Doesn't have to match real life face claim height)
[b]Clothing:[/b] (can put picture or link if necessary)
[b]Weapon(s):[/b] (The Avians probably don't have anything)
[b]Other:[/b] (For the avians, description on wings. Scars, tattoos, anything else?)
[/center][/size]
[center][size=200][b]Personality[/b][/size][/center]
[center][size=150][b](Put summary here)[/b][/size][/center]
[center][size=150][b]Hobbies:[/b] (one or two, or more)
[b]Favorite Color:[/b] (or colors)
[b]Fears:[/b] (at least two)
[b]Weaknesses:[/b] (at least two)
[b]History:[/b] (Optional, or doesn't have to be to lengthy.)
[/size][/center]
-swearing is fine. Don't over use it
-romance is fine, don't be too descriptive. Keep it civil
-no one liners
-no essay posts either
-therefore, keep it within the 1-6 paragraph range
-a paragraph consists of five sentences
-feel free to reserve characters
-reserves last 24 hours
-if I accept a character, but you never ever post with it...I will PM you
-Please be fairly active
-if something comes up, PM me
-if you can no longer continue, PM me
-if you just hate the role-play and want to quit, PM me
-if you just want someone to talk to for no apparent reason, PM me
-if you have 10-karat gold ring, I WANT MY PRECIOUSSSSS!
-I am not insane, my mother had me tested
-If you want to change the face claim, go right ahead.
-If you don't want a face claim, go right ahead.
-if you read all the rules, awesome. Just, awesome.
- 86 posts here • Page 1 of 4 • 1, 2, 3, 4
The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 6 authors
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"I think you should lower your guns," Blue Jay said in an innocent little girl voice. In response, the men slowly and reluctantly lowered the guns and dropped them to the floor. "You should turn around. Forget I was here. Fly on back to Mr. Scientist and tell him you failed," she said, a hint of malice in her voice. Confusedly, the men turned around and started walking off, slowly. Blue Jay grinned to herself and trotted of, finally finding room for her wings to spread. She flapped upward, her beautiful wings pushing her into the air.
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The man struggled in the chair, trying to get free of the rope's bonds. "Any last vords?" the blonde said, pointing the man's own gun at his head. The man tried to scream through his duct tape, but only mumbling sounds came out of his mouth. Right before Diandra pulled the trigger, her phone started to ring. She sighed, annoyed, dropped the gun, and got her phone out of her purse that was sitting next to the door. She grunted and rolled her eyes when she saw the caller ID.
"Vat do you vant NOW Schroeder? I'm busy!!"
"Don't ask questions mi cherie," the mad scientist replied on the other end of the line, "just come to my lab as soon as you can. Try to be there by Friday."
"I'll be zere in tventy minutes."
"You're in California? Right now?"
"Yes."
Awkward silence.
"VORK." Diandra projected, shattering the silence.
"Ah. Well alrighty then, I'll see you in twenty." Schroeder said, ending the call afterwards.
Diandra turned back to her victim, still struggling in his chair. "You got lucky zis time" she said to him as she wrapped her whip unto his neck, choking him to a slow and painful death.
After traveling on her motor cycle across the roads in death valley, Diandra parked her motorcycle next to the bright orange caverns. She walked through the path, stopping at the spot with the yellow flowers. She knocked on the rock four times. "Is me." she said, and like magic, the wall of the cavern opened, revealing an elevator. After going through the process of proving her identity to the guards, Diandra finally entered Schroeder's lab. "Dina, my sweet! How have you been?" he said as he kissed both of her cheeks, a traditional french greeting. "Vat do you vant?" Diandra said, still a serious and slightly annoyed look on her face.
"It's this...." the scientist said, producing a manilla folder from his coat pocket. The french assasin opened the folder, and scanned through it's contents. Finally after a minute, she exclaimed, "You vant me to kill a six-year-old?"
"Keep reading." Schroeder quickly snapped.
Diandra sat in the scientist's wooden desk chair as she kept reading the information on subject #33. "Ohhhhh.....i get it....Ow-"
"How much am i going to pay you for this assasination?" Schroeder spoke before Diandra could even complete her sentence. Schroeder had hired Diandra multiple times, and he knew every one of her tricks. "10,000."
Diandra gasped. "I know, i know," Schroeder said, looking at Diandra straight in the eyes. "she's far more dangerous than any of the others," Schroeder headed to the desk, "AND SHE'S ONLY SIX!!!!!" he shouted, pounding his fists on the table in agony.
After her confrontation with Dr. Kreinstein, Diandra headed back towards the city on her bike. She remembered what the scientist said about finding the other two assasins and persuading them to join in the search for Bluejay. She also remembered to put the syringe filled with purple fluid in her leather jacket. The Dr. had told her to use it once she encountered the six year old. The purple fluid would not only knock the girl out, but take away some of her powers. Unfortunately, Schroeder could not use it on the girl's sister, as there was only a limited supply of the serum. After grabbing to make sure her whip was secure to her waist, Diandra increased the speed of her motorcycle. She knew she would have a lot on her hands.
(ooc: sorry for the ridiculously long post :( i know, it's way too long. I promise to make it much shorter next time.)
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Audra turned her veiw to the T.V. when the new reporter began to talk about last's night robbery. "Police have not yet identified the missing jewels, but many people are in awe of the massacre. What type of person would do this?!." Audra smiled as she watched the newsman shout out frantically, his wet eyes and tense muscle structure told her enough. She had outdone herself by kidnapping his wife and killing her with the security guards inside the jewerly store. Well, if his camera crew hadn't been trying to stalk me and figure out where I'd strike next, then I wouldn't have killed the woman. She thought emotionlessly as she stared at the diamond in her hand. It was the size of her fist and was sparkling dangerously, suggesting other ideas of fun she could possibly due for more diamonds.
"My lady, your mail has arrived." Audra looked up from the diamond on focused on her computer. Sophisticated and liberal, she had bought one of those computers that spoke sometimes. She didn't know it's name, but that it helped when she was daydreaming. Crawling off the bed she moved gracefully with no signs of awkwardness. She moved things around on the screen and the message openned. "Hmmmm." She licked her lips as she looked over her mailbox. "Boring. Useless. I have no idea what that is. Oh, hmm... Maybe, just maybe I could take this one." She thought as she re-read the mail. It was just some letter asking if she'd kidnap the mayor and get him to talk of certain things.
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Valentine had followed the assassin for seventy-two hours; he knew that this assassin had been called in on this case. The man was in his mid-thirties, was of African descent, and was armed with a very intimidating-looking machete and an Israeli-produced 'Uzi' submachine gun. Valentine had run across this man before; during an operation in Africa. The man was brutal, violent; formerly a professional torturer. After Valentine had killed the nation's entire government in a missile strike, the man had disappeared into the ether; and now he worked as an assassin. They called him 'The Zulu'.
Valentine stared down for a moment at the tiny fragments of bone in the palm of his open hand. Five of them. Each razor-sharp; sharpened to a point by his knife. One from each of the people in his life who had been lost to facilitate his mission. One of them was this man's fault. The gash in it was a dark proof of the fact. Interestingly, that bone was the only one of those who had been lost who was still actually alive. But she was lost all the same to him.
He slid the bones back into the tiny pouch on the back of his glove, and breathed out softly, dismounting the rented motorbike and putting down its kickstand. He slid on his face mask, and walked into the building. He'd taken a side-entrance; therefore, nobody was around to question the black-clad figure. Everyone who saw him knew him; it was just what he'd worked so long to achieve. It was what had allowed him to shape the world for the better.
He unhooked a bag from the side of the bike, and from it, withdrew his weapon of choice for that operation; a suppressed M4A1 Carbine, US Military-issue. He'd spent more time with one in his hands than he had with a book, and he was an avid reader. They could be found in nearly every part of the world, courtesy of the US Government's constant meddling in places where they had no business. Slamming a twenty-round magazine into it, he racked the bolt and walked over to the door, slipping inside soundlessly.
He knew that he had a tiny window of opportunity. He had to confirm that the girl was here, which he'd know when the Zulu located the girl. Unfortunately, he had to then proceed to kill the Zulu before the Zulu killed the girl, which, knowing that man, was about half a second. He couldn't afford to fail, not at that stage. So he soundlessly crept through the house, following the dirty prints on the floor made by the Zulu's boots. He rounded a corner, went up a flight of stairs; he brushed his gloved hand along the banister, and the leather came away dusty. Nobody had lived in this house for some time.
Which, if he wasn't wrong, was exactly why the girl was hiding there.
He'd read a lot about her, and every time he did, he only became more confounded. She was, he knew, incredibly intelligent for her age, and had the capacity to read minds - and even control them. Yet she was still, he'd observed, prone to childlike mood swings. However, he knew that she wasn't invulnerable; able to read minds or not, she had to do it consciously, and if she wasn't 'looking' for anyone, she was no different to any other unaware human. He was also aware of the goals of the project that had created her - to create a perfect soldier. He almost laughed at the thought.
If they wanted the perfect soldier, they were clearly looking in the wrong place.
He heard the click of a weapon's safety, and he moved like a flash, the large gaps in his armour offering him total freedom of movement; he crossed the few short metres in an instant. He assessed the situation quickly; the man was standing there, Uzi levelled at the girl. She was a tad tall for her age, and had long red-brown hair; she looked so perfectly innocent. What monster would have tried to weaponise her?
He acted almost on instinct, hands practised with years of training and experience; he first delivered a short, sharp burst of automatic gunfire into the Zulu's back, hitting centre mass perfectly, cutting him down in the space of an instant. He covered the remaining two metres quickly, knife flashing into his hands, and slammed it upwards into the back of the Zulu's skull, severing the spinal cord and slicing through into his brain. The dark-skinned man fell like a sack of rocks.
Valentine wondered if he should feel relief, but none came. He took no joy, no relief in killing the man that had tortured his friend. An odd sensation, perhaps; the lack of feeling. The man was just a number, another target, another name. Too many blasted names, Valentine mused.
He turned to the girl, shaking the blood of his knife. He wondered how he must have looked to her; a knight in gunmetal armour, black coat flowing behind him, dark plastic-composite mask obscuring the bottom half of his face, matte sunglasses concealing his eyes. A blood-soaked knife in one hand and a smoking automatic rifle in the other.
"Now," he said; his voice was a little deep, but also calm, and rather emotionless. "I don't know exactly who you are, but I know what's been done to you, kid. I know that a lot of bad people want to kill you; you and I both know that this man isn't the first, and he sure won't be the last. Don't ask who I am. But if you want to live, you'd better follow me."
((What I'm thinking for is that, about now, every assassin makes a simultaneous play for the girl at once; some to protect her, some to capture or kill her. Big epic crossfire scene to kick off the RP. Thoughts? Also, if this disrupts anyone's plans, please tell me!))
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Aryanna made sure she had everything ready one last time, then pulled her red hood up, and slipped out the door. Carefully slinking down a side alley, she made her way toward the apartment building ahead. It was pathetic. Going to school. She only had one more year, though. One more year of writing papers, doing homework, and having to wake up early to ride on a yellow bus. She was tempted to kill one of her teachers. She dismissed the thought. Focus. Finally, she made it to the apartment. Silently, she climbed the stairs, carefully avoiding people. Walking down a hallway, she approached a door.
Carefully, she pulled a pin from her hair, letting it fall down around her shoulders. She slipped the pin into the lock, twiddled it around, then heard the faintest click. Sliding the pin out, she opened the door slowly, quietly. Before entering, she pulled the two daggers from her boots. Tiptoeing across the threshold, the silently raises her daggers, heading towards someone sitting at a computer. In one last noise-less step, she pulled her daggers in front of the man's throat, criss-crossing them. Aryanna smiled in triumph, the cold blades lightly pressing against the man's skin.
"Guess who?" she asked, a grin creeping across her face.
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Blue Jay made her way back to her "home." Really it was just an abandoned building, but not many people knew about it. She fluttered open her wings, smiling as she stretched them out, flapping a little. It felt good to not have them pulled tight against her back. It seemed like she was always on the run. it felt good to be free from the lab though. Not stuck in a cage. She shuddered at the thought, then shoved a roll of bread in her mouth that she had bought. Suddenly she froze, hearing a sound. She turned around, silently, but no one was there. She let out a breath. Probably just a bird. Bang! Blue Jay whipped around,wincing as one of her wings slammed into the side of the wall.
A man was there, two men, actually. One was dead on the floor. Her jaw dropped for a second, but she closed it, looking at the man standing over the body. He looked...scary? not quite the right word. Intimidating was more like it. Threatening. Had she seen him before? Immediately, she tried to take hold of his mind. Drop the gun, she thought, pushing the thought into his mind. Although, something odd happened. he didn't. His hand quivered a little, and she could see it in his eyes that he wanted too, but he didn't. She frowned slightly, stretching her wings out a little more, ready to take off if necessary. She opened her mouth to ask who he was, but closed it when he spoke. "I don't know exactly who you are, but I know what's been done to you, kid. I know that a lot of bad people want to kill you; you and I both know that this man isn't the first, and he sure won't be the last. Don't ask who I am. But if you want to live, you'd better follow me."
"How do I know I can trust you?" She asked, really wanting to ask who he was, but didn't.
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He was finished dying.
When he re-opened his eyes, she'd stopped trying to invade his mind, and questioned him. How could she trust him? He barely trusted himself. But then again, who knew if anyone else would try to help her? Over his twenty-seven years, he'd learnt that if you wanted something done, you did it yourself. Hell, that was why he'd begun this in the first place, ten years ago. There was no guarantee that anyone would help her, so he'd help her. Besides, he'd been looking to take a holiday from political assassinations for a while. Running around killing high-value targets was an effective means of changing the world, but it really took it out of a guy. So he'd take a holiday, help this girl for a while, and once she was safe, he could go back to what he was doing. Besides, he'd have to learn to stop dealing with 'the big people' in life and at least occasionally do tiny little good things, to keep himself sane.
"You can't," he answered her. "But if I wanted you dead, I'd have shot you along with this man." Then, coming to a realisation, he pulled out his iPhone - he switched through them approximately once per week to avoid being traced - and loaded up a newspaper article he had saved on it, before tossing it to her. The article's title read 'Fear Of "Sword Of Damocles" Causes Iran To Revise Nuclear Policy'. The main picture was a blurry cell-phone image of him, standing in front of a smoke plume rising from a building, rifle in his hands. He remembered that day; it had been in Asia. After he'd taken out the government of a nation, with the assistance of a band of revolutionaries, someone had taken a photograph of him. The incident had cemented his status as a world icon, and scared whole nations into submission - Iran included.
"That's me," he said. "Read through the article and you might get some idea of who I am." He turned to face the doorway, however, levelling his rifle at the stairwell. "Read fast, though. I don't know how long with have until local law enforcement turns up - or worse, reinforcements."
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He was finished dying.
When he re-opened his eyes, she'd stopped trying to invade his mind, and questioned him. How could she trust him? He barely trusted himself. But then again, who knew if anyone else would try to help her? Over his twenty-seven years, he'd learnt that if you wanted something done, you did it yourself. Hell, that was why he'd begun this in the first place, ten years ago. There was no guarantee that anyone would help her, so he'd help her. Besides, he'd been looking to take a holiday from political assassinations for a while. Running around killing high-value targets was an effective means of changing the world, but it really took it out of a guy. So he'd take a holiday, help this girl for a while, and once she was safe, he could go back to what he was doing. Besides, he'd have to learn to stop dealing with 'the big people' in life and at least occasionally do tiny little good things, to keep himself sane.
"You can't," he answered her. "But if I wanted you dead, I'd have shot you along with this man." Then, coming to a realisation, he pulled out his iPhone - he switched through them approximately once per week to avoid being traced - and loaded up a newspaper article he had saved on it, before tossing it to her. The article's title read 'Fear Of "Sword Of Damocles" Causes Iran To Revise Nuclear Policy'. The main picture was a blurry cell-phone image of him, standing in front of a smoke plume rising from a building, rifle in his hands. He remembered that day; it had been in Asia. After he'd taken out the government of a nation, with the assistance of a band of revolutionaries, someone had taken a photograph of him. The incident had cemented his status as a world icon, and scared whole nations into submission - Iran included.
"That's me," he said. "Read through the article and you might get some idea of who I am." He turned to face the doorway, however, levelling his rifle at the stairwell. "Read fast, though. I don't know how long with have until local law enforcement turns up - or worse, reinforcements."
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Aryanna smiled then put away her blades before making her way to the kitchen. She grabbed a slice of cold pizza then pulled a chair up next to Conner. "Sooo. Who will we be killing today?" She asked, trying to make sense of what he was typing into the computer. "Wait, what's that?" she asked, pointing to a pop-up that looked like an e-mail. She skimmed over it. "A scientist? Hm...and he wants us to kill a six year old? That just seems cruel. Though it says he will pay us a lot. But really? A six year old? here click on it. It might give us more details." she said before taking another bite of her pizza.
Why would a scientist need a six year old killed? Normally they weren't the 'hired' type. They would kill the corrupt, or the evil. Or even killing other assassins who killed the wrong people. Sort of ironic.
Blue Jay took the iPhone in her hands, reading the article. She wasn't much of a reader, but she knew what 'assassination' and 'fear' meant. She read the title of the article. 'Fear Of "Sword Of Damocles" Causes Iran To Revise Nuclear Policy' She looked up at the man. "You're the Sword of Damocles?" She asked. She had heard of this man before. She was intrigued. She gave the iPhone back to him. She followed after him, preferring to just jump out the window, but she didn't. She kept her distance though. She never liked guns. the fact that he could kill her in less than a second.....she shuddered. She didn't have many good experiences at all.
She fluttered up the stairs, her wings pulled in so they didn't snap against the walls. At the top, she looked around, and concentrated, making sure there wasn't anybody in the building. she looked back down the steps. "So why are you helping me?" she asked
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"Indeed I am," he said, watching as she left the room and went up the stairs, flying over the corpse Valentine had left. Blood was leaking onto the floor, around Valentine's boots. He didn't care; it had happened a thousand times before, and he had no concern for men such as this. The Zulu had been given no right to live; Valentine's killing of him was no different to crushing an insect. He stepped over his opponent's corpse, his heavy boot squelching against the man's back. As he stepped out into the corridor, he swept left and right, checking for any possible threat, but seeing nothing. They were, for the moment, alone.
He watched her wings in a kind of awe. It was incredible, the way they possessed a beauty; no human was ever meant to have them, and she looked as though an angel come to Earth to inform such lesser mortals of the right way to live. They seemed so innocent, even though he knew full well the original intention of her having been given them.
He sprinted up the stairs, rifle pressed to his shoulder but lowered, and as he reached the girl, he said, "I'm helping you because I can. Political and corporate assassinations get boring after you've done them for too long, and I'm looking to take a holiday. So, for the next little while, I'm going to be helping you out; once you're safe, I'll go back to what I was doing. My motivation here, though, I assume was made clear by that article. You don't deserve to die, and a lot of people are trying to kill you. Therefore, it's my responsibility to keep you alive for the moment."
He looked around; they'd head off the top floor, double back to his motorbike, and then he could get her to a safe location. After a rest, they could get out of the country. Assuming that everything went according to plan.
Probably the biggest lesson he'd learnt over the last ten years was that nothing ever, ever went according to plan.
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Audra glared at the icon that suddenly appeared on at the sceen as she was looking over the other messages. Growling out a curse at the icon for freaking her out, she clicked on it and read it's words. "Intresting... Ahmm... A six year old?" She blinked before re-reading the paragraph. She hated people who caged others and commanded loyalty, so in now way was she going to take this job. "The pay was too low anyways." She thought over before turning the computer off and slipping on a black leather jacket. She gently placed her katanas into a guiter case and swung it over her bask. Now that that was done, she turned and walked up the rickety old stairs that were rusted dangerously in some areas and up... into a, abandoned school. Well not really into the school, but she was in it's basement now, above her home, or at least one of her secret houses. The lights flickered on as she pulled the string, old style. Audra walked down a hall and up another set of stairs, making her way through more hallways and finally out a double door and into the sunlight.
Audra yawned, remembering she was a night animal before she took off, somehow finding herself in a coffee shop beside some old buildings. "Thank you." She whispered to the lady before giving her the cash and taking the scalding hot chocolate. People would think it was weird that she'd been drinking hot chocolate in daylight when she wasn't cold, but that was just how she was. She walked out and sat down on the bench. She sipped her hot chocolate while studying the people around her and her surroundings.
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"I think we should check it out, no?" He said with a smirk. "You have your gear, right? Let's go talk to this scientist."
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Blue Jay nodded. Head off the top floor, double back to his motorbike, and then he could get her to a safe location. After a rest, they could get out of the country. Assuming that everything went according to plan. She tried to dismiss the 'nothing ever goes as planned'. It was truthful though. Blue Jay tried not to think back to her escape. She had made it out, but her sister did not fare so well. She shook her head. best not to think about what they are doing to her right now.
"I don't see why you need to go off the top floor. Head down to your motorbike...I'll follow overhead," she said, extending her wings a little. "I'll go up to the roof," she said. Turning, she went up another flight of stairs. Pushing open a door, she breathed in the cool air. Perfect for flying. Opening her wings fully, she looked around, her eyes narrowing on every little detail. Approaching the edge of the roof, she climbed up onto the ledge, then leapt off, her wings catching the wind like sails. She grinned happily, the breeze pulling her hair back in tangles.
Her wings worked powerfully to push her higher into the sky. Then she started circling, her vision focusing on the motorbike below, waiting for him to get on it. Another figure caught in her vision. More than one figure. She looked closer. Law enforcement. There were at least three black vans, filled with people geared up and holding various guns. Crap. How could she tell him in time? She focused her energy on his mind. You need to get out of there now! She thought, either trying to control him, or just get her message across. It wasn't looking pretty.
Aryanna shrugged. Guess it wouldn't hurt. She was sort of leery about it. Come on, a six year old? It just seemed heartless. She shoved the rest of the pizza in her mouth then made sure she did have all her gear. The location isn't that far from here. It was worth a look-see. "yeah. I'm ready," she said, pulling up her hood and making her way to the door.
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That was when he heard the sound of boots slamming against the ground.
"LAPD! Hands up!" the first of the officers shouted, and Valentine didn't pause; he'd been here a thousand times before. Those words did little but amuse him now. Did they not understand who he was, just what he did?
He snapped up his carbine, loosing a burst of automatic fire into the first police officer's chest, and before the second of the pair could open fire with his Glock handgun, two 5.56mm rounds were planted in his skull. Both of the men fell like rocks. Unlike what you see in the movies, people don't fly back when they get shot; they just stumble a bit, look surprised, and then fall to the ground. Well, the latter didn't exactly have time to look surprised. Headshots, as Valentine had learnt all too often, weren't the cleanest way of killing people.
He jumped on his bike, starting it quickly and firing his M4A1 one-handed; he saw no targets and wouldn't have hit anything anyway, but as long as he was shooting out the exit to the alleyway, they weren't about to try and mess with him. Most of the rounds he'd ever fired were suppressive fire; same as with any professional soldier. That was the way warfare worked, these days.
He accelerated as hard as he could, streaking out the alleyway into the street; but he barely made it a few metres before he heard the distinctive ping of bullets off his vehicle, and after perhaps five seconds, his steering column suddenly went very loose, and the vehicle rolled violently along the ground. He knew that it was done for and ditched it, leaping off it and rolling along the ground, his ceramic armour making an odd scraping sound as he moved. He managed to roll into a kneeling position and snapped up his rifle, emptying off what was left of the magazine before reloading and delivering another heavy burst of automatic fire. Two, three, then four black-clad officers fell before they could react to him, and he stood up and ran behind a car; he needed some cover, or else he was as good as dead.
He felt a few bullets slam into his armour, but they failed to punch through, and he managed to make it behind a heavy pickup truck. Reloading his rifle again, he pulled the pin on a hand grenade and lobbed it towards one of the huge, ominous police vans. The satisfying, echoing slam of an explosion and a slight increase in temperature for a second indicated that he'd made a good throw. Knowing what the logical next move was, he ran towards the destroyed van, ducking slightly at the repeated crack-crack-crack of pistol fire, now mixed in with the tinny rattle of SWAT-issue M16 assault rifles. He dived behind the burning truck, slamming his combat knife into the ribs of a SWAT officer; it punched through the thin, outdated Kevlar vest and then through flesh and bone. He whipped around, finishing off another pair of wounded police and clearing around himself a small space. He saw a flashing shape on the other side of the van and vaulted on top of it, flames licking around his legs, discharging a sharp burst into the officer trying to bring his pistol to bear. Only then did Valentine realise that he was silhouetted against the flames, and his coat flowing behind him, he heard voices coming from the other vans.
"The Sword of Damocles!"
"Backup, backup, now!"
The terrified shouts of the already-dead as they realised just who they were dealing with. He smirked slightly; it warmed his heart to know that people knew him. It meant that what he was doing was working, that all his sacrifices had been worth it. He couldn't exactly stay there, though, so he jumped back behind the van, slamming a fresh magazine into his weapon and wondering how the hell he was going to make it out of this one without getting killed by the inevitable reinforcements.
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She heard bullets zing past her and ping off buildings. She smashed into another guy and he launched forward, hitting his head off a concrete wall. Ouch. She zig-zagged up and down and around, a couple feet off the ground. she had to find 'The Sword of Damocles'. She finally spotted him behind a van. She looked around. His motorbike was wrecked. Could she carry him while flying? Doubtful. Sure she was genetically engineered, but she wasn't that strong, being six and all. Not stopping in her low-flying frenzy, she aimed herself towards him.
"Brace yourself!" She screamed out, before scooping him up in her arms. Bad idea. She practically dropped like a rock. What was he made of? Bricks? She felt something hard. Armor? She pushed down with her wings, trying to get some loft. She managed to get about 3 feet of the ground. She winced as she heard his boot scrape the ground. Still, she pushed down again, still angling herself forward, still going fairly fast. She pushed down hard again, trying to open her wings out at the proper length so she wouldn't fall flat on her face, but wouldn't slow down to much, all the while frantically flapping to get in the air.
Finally, she managed to get in the air a little, about 10 feet off the ground. She tried to get a better grip on him, dropping him not really on her agenda. A couple more downstrokes and they were fifty feet off the ground. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief. But they weren't safe yet. Not in the least. For one thing, she couldn't carry him forever. She was having a tough enough time as it is. Five more minutes, give or take. She strained a couple more strokes, trying to rise higher, fearing snipers. She looked below her, not seeing anything.
"I hope your not afraid of heights," she said. By now they were two or three miles away, which was ok, I guess. She tried shifting his weight again, but this time, her finger slipped. She gasped and tightened her grip, dropping several feet and straining to get back up. She flapped hard, trying to stay aloft, seeing the ground rush up beneath them. She tried to move so she wouldn't be crushed by his weight, and his armor, still flapping frantically. The landing impact jolting her, and her breath left her in a woosh. She felt pressure in her wing, and it twisted grotesquely, and she cried out in pain. She landed hard on her right foot, but it didn't break. She coughed, staggering up, looking around. The were in a fairly grassy meadow. She spit out blood before turning to 'the Sword of Damocles'. "You ok? it doesn't look like they are following us."
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Then he remembered just where, when and who he was, and he rolled to his feet, drawing his revolver and levelling it, crouching low; but nothing moved in the meadow, so he removed his left hand from the grip and lowered the weapon to his side. He then heard a voice asking for him, and turned; the girl was staggering from left to right, as though she'd been shot, one wing kinked slightly out of shape. His left hand unconsciously tightened; he was cold and ruthless, but seeing a child in pain like this wasn't normal for him. He didn't deal with kids; he never had. He was no good at them. On operations, he generally just ignored them. Hardly an option now, though...
He dashed over to her, the revolver's safety off; who knew who could be watching them here? "I'm alright; I've had worse landings," he said, before glancing towards the city. They must have flown miles! "Well," he said with a slight grin, "That's a hell of a way to get evac. Thanks."
He'd been careless earlier, charging the enemy. He'd forgotten that he was only human, and thusly, could be killed. He was well-trained and well-armoured, but he couldn't dodge bullets and wasn't invincible. He needed to be more careful from now on; he was in America, and the police here were better-trained and -armed than they were in most places.
"They're following us, trust me," he said, his mind turning to business. "But we've got a solid twenty-minute lead on them. If we hoof it to a car and then start driving, they'll never catch us."
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She fumbled her way over too him, then looked around, a street wasn't far off. They would need to find a car. She didn't try to show it, but her wing really hurt. She stretched it out again, trying to work the kink out, and sucked in a breath, trying not to pass out from the pain. "yeah. Car." She said, pulling in her wings again, and starting toward the street. She turned back around though. "What is your real name?" She finally asked. It was the oldest trick in her book. The easiest way to learn things from people is to get them thinking about it.
------
Aryanna looked at the yellow flowers in front of her, sticking out from orange caverns. "This is it?" She asked, taking the paper with the address and direction on it from Conner. She looked at the directions, then at what was in front of her. Seemed right. She tapped a rock with the toe of her boot. Suddenly, as if from thin air, an elevator appeared. She jumped back, then regained herself. She turned to look at Conner and raised her eyebrows, stepping in.
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"My name," he said cautiously, yet warmly; he tried to make it sound like he was trying to be nice, to make friends with her, "is Valentine Knight. At least, that the name my parents gave me. I have a lot of fake names. I haven't used my real name for years and years. But..."
Could he trust her? Probably. She was extremely manipulative, not to mention a psychic, and clearly far more intelligent than any child of her age should have been. But on the other hand, he could kill her if he had to, he told himself; he was disgusted by his own thought, but accepted that it might well be necessary. He'd killed a lot of people just to save himself; even Nina had fallen under that category. But could he kill a child? She wouldn't be the first, after all - twelve children had been killed in the Sarin Gas attack in Africa, and another seven when he'd set off close to a quarter of a ton of C4 in the middle of New York. He'd called them collateral damage and moved on; he'd done more good with those hits than harm, as he'd sworn to himself so many times.
But doing it intentionally, in cold blood, was a different matter. It would be easy; at this range, he could draw his revolver and put a round through the back of her head in a split-second. She'd be dead before she could react. But if he killed her, that would be the final straw, wouldn't it? It'd be the last line he had to cross before he became a true monster.
He couldn't let that happen.
So he had no choice but to trust her.
"...You can call me by it, if you like. I like my name; it makes me sad that I can't really use it. My friends used to call me by it, so you can too, okay?"
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Blue Jay froze, her eyes widening at Valentine. She tried to dismiss his thoughts, even backing up a step. Kill her? She bit her lip. If he could stop her from controlling his mind before....he could very well kill her. Almost instinctively, she tensed herself, ready for battle. Could she even fly right now, with her wing all bent out of shape? But then the killing thoughts subsided...and he trusted her. But it left her shaken up, staring at him in fright. But it made sense, right? He was an assassin after all. Her child mind tried to grasp the concept. Instead, she just finally spoke. "I like the name Valentine," she said simply, before turning back around and heading for the street. She saw a car coming up. She focused her mind.
Stop. Pull over. She thought to the driver. The car slowed down, and eventually pulled to a stop next to her. The man rolled down his window, looking awfully confused. "Hi," she said sweetly. "We really need this car. Please let us use it," she said, persuasion dripping from her words. The man nodded, in a daze. He parked the car and pulled out the keys, handing them to her. She smiled to him. "Thank you," she said, and the man got out of the car, zombie-like. She tossed the keys to Valentine then got into the passenger seat.
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He slid into the driver's seat, shutting the door and checking the car's controls; he'd always preferred right-hand-drive, after all. Stupid Americans driving on the wrong side of the road. But he managed to get it rolling, and immediately accelerated hard, barely remembering to stop when he hit the speed limit; he threw the vehicle around a corner without breaking, causing the tires to squeal and smoke along the ground and forcing him back into his seat.
He wondered what everyone watching would think. He was, admittedly, driving like a complete nutcase; he'd never learnt to drive properly, after all. His training had been for 'offensive driving', and he'd spent far more time behind the wheels of 'borrowed' Humvees and 'Technicals' (utes with machine-guns crudely bolted into the tray, favoured in the third world) than he had driving 'normal' cars like this. Vlad, unfortunately, had never taught him to drive; he could parachute, fast-rope from a helicopter and rig up explosives to bring down a building without squashing anyone standing next to it, but he couldn't drive.
Suffice to say, his skills were a little unbalanced.
"Please, slow down," the SatNav stated in its typical monotone voice. "Please, slow down. Please, slow dow-"
Valentine slammed his combat knife into the small computer, silencing it quickly. "Much better," he said to himself, continuing to drive. He knew the address of where he was headed; he'd been there many times before, after all. Hell, more than ten years ago, during his first-ever real assassination against a pair of American senators, he'd located the place and hidden there. Somehow, the police still hadn't found it.
He choked slightly at the memory. So much had changed since then. Back then, it had all been so fast, so dream-like, alternating between laughing and joking with Leo and Nina and cutting down those who stood against him. The stark contrasts of war. Now, it was only the darkest, he found; there was no light in his life, no good. He was a servant of mankind, culling away its evil. He had no right to be happy, and he would never be.
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"Hello, I am..." she debated giving them her real name, then quickly decided against it. "I'm Little Red. This is Robin Hood. We were given this e-mail, told to come here," She said, pulling out a slip of paper with the email on it. The guards inspected it, then them. One said something under his breath, touching his ear. They must all be wired I guess. He nodded, then turned back to us. "right this way please. Dr. Schroeder will be with you shortly."
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Blue Jay held on to a handle as the car shifted back and forth. She wasn't really used to being in a car. In fact, she didn't really recall being in one. The inside made her claustrophobic, her hurt wing was pressing uncomfortably against the seat, they were going way to fast, and all the while a headache nagged at the back of her mind. She didn't complain though. He trusted her and so she trusted him. Well...it was pretty hard not to trust someone who's mind you could read....besides the brief thing about killing her. She quickly pushed that away.
She nearly jumped out of her seat as she heard a loud crunching noise. She looked over to find what appeared to be some sort of computer radio type thing smashed to bits. A couple drivers around them why wondering why they were going so fast. Honestly, she was wondering the same thing. Sure, it would get them there quicker but it was rather conspicuous and she didn't even hear police....A faint siren, only detectable by her enhanced senses, picked up in her ears. Scratch that. Driving fast is good. "So where are we going?" She asked.
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Valentine Knight
"I have half the world running from me, and the other half desperately hunting me. I am the closest thing to God mankind has ever encountered. Do not make an enemy of me."
Audra Hathaway
"Don't make a girl a promise, if you can't keep it."
Connor Davenport
"The right thing to do is always the best thing to do."
Blue Jay
Why must you hunt me? It won't end well. For you...
Trending
Blue Jay
Why must you hunt me? It won't end well. For you...
Audra Hathaway
"Don't make a girl a promise, if you can't keep it."
Connor Davenport
"The right thing to do is always the best thing to do."
Valentine Knight
"I have half the world running from me, and the other half desperately hunting me. I am the closest thing to God mankind has ever encountered. Do not make an enemy of me."
Most Followed
Connor Davenport
"The right thing to do is always the best thing to do."
Audra Hathaway
"Don't make a girl a promise, if you can't keep it."
Valentine Knight
"I have half the world running from me, and the other half desperately hunting me. I am the closest thing to God mankind has ever encountered. Do not make an enemy of me."
Blue Jay
Why must you hunt me? It won't end well. For you...
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Hunt, Capture, and Kill
1, 2by Haas33 on Tue Nov 06, 2012 7:28 pm
- 32 Replies
- 2225 Views
- Last post by BlueWind_22
on Mon Dec 24, 2012 3:50 pm
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Hunt, Capture, and Kill
Most recent OOC posts in Hunt, Capture, and Kill
Re: Hunt, Capture, and Kill
Re: Hunt, Capture, and Kill
Re: Hunt, Capture, and Kill
But hey, I got a lot of stuff in!
Also, Haas, I'm going to PM you about a plot twist I have planned.
Re: Hunt, Capture, and Kill
Anyway, I think that you can reply; we can write off the coincidence as 'plot reasons'.
Re: Hunt, Capture, and Kill
Agheem... Audra was already in the 'neighborhood' but if you can't tell from her living under an abandoned school and the old buildings then maybe I should make it alot more... obvious that she's in the bad side of town. My mistake... Oh, and Audra doesn't have her swords out, she's just wishing she had them. Her swords are in the guitar case on her back.
Re: Hunt, Capture, and Kill
As for the mind reading, here was my intention, whether it doesn't correctly match my first post or not: She has a sort of radar system, picking up thoughts/minds in varying degrees of clarity based on how far away they are. Lets say her range is 700 feet. Anything within, say 100 feet, she can control minds. Anything past, she can read minds, up to say...500 feet. Anything up to 600 feet, she knows that a mind is there, and recognize it if it is something/someone she knows. anything to 700 feet, she just barely knows they are there. As for controlling minds, sort of the same concept...but different. Instead of distance, everything is based on strength. With the weak minded, she could completely control them. With the strong minded, she can only influence or have good persuasion, but with effort and concentration. As for the electrostatic shock, she most likely has been modified for this, but still affects her greatly, especially because her age and weight.
Re: Hunt, Capture, and Kill
Regarding the sniping thing, I find seeing the flash and dodging a tad hard to believe, and here's why. Your standard bullet travels at roughly twice the speed of sound, and if the shot is taken from one kilometre away, that equates to one and a half seconds of travel time between the sniper pulling the trigger and the impact. In real life, if you ever hear about people 'dodging bullets' odds are that the shooter missed. Although this does present an interesting question about her abilities - does she need to consciously 'look' for people's minds to read, or does she have a radar-esque ability that causes her to hear all thoughts within range (and, for that matter, what is her ability's range)?
Agreed; a shot like that would be nigh-impossible to make, as at close range you wouldn't be able to move your gun fast enough and at long range there would be too many variables to realistically score a kill-shot. However, it should be noted that a bullet packs a staggering amount of force - as mentioned in Valentine's excerpt, a .50 BMG round (one of the largest small arms bullets in the world) will literally blow someone apart on a centre mass hit, and a hit to a limb will almost certainly sever that limb wholesale due to the fact that roughly 15,000 joules of energy are being transferred through in the space of an instant. Additionally, tests have never been performed on six-year-olds (which is probably a good thing XD) but a sufficiently powerful bullet hitting a limb will still cause what's referred to as 'electrostatic shock', which is a shockwave sent through the nervous system that will usually shut down the brain (90% of deaths in explosions are caused by this, as a matter of fact). However, due to Blue Jay's... 'modifications', her nervous system may have been hardened against electrostatic shock (if I were in the business of creating super-soldiers, it's one of the first things I'd look to fix, since it'd roughly quadruple survivability against bullets and explosions).
Re: Hunt, Capture, and Kill
Re: Hunt, Capture, and Kill
As for the sniping thing? It is very unlikely she wouldn't notice someone. This is because of her bird-like eyesight. If they were far enough away, she might not notice them, but at that distance she would notice the flash and half enough time to dodge out of the way (because of her fast reflexes). Of course, she would not be able to control snipers because of the distance...maybe only hear their thoughts if yes, she was aware that they were there.
The only other thing I might throw in there is the fact that it is almost nearly impossible to snipe her while she is in flight. In flight, she can get up to speeds close to 200 mph, 250 when dive-bombing. However, it does seem that sniping her would be a good idea, even if does just nick a wing or an arm or leg.
Re: Hunt, Capture, and Kill
I'll try to keep it down from now on, I promise!
Also, to notify everyone: I assume that (based on my experience writing about Reality Warpers for the SCP Foundation and Global Occult Coalition), the best way to kill the girl would be to try to snipe her from extreme range with a high-calibre weapon (to ensure a kill). She's not omniscient, and can't read the thoughts or control the mind of anyone she's not aware of. Therefore, she's still vulnerable to ambush. Am I correct in thinking this?
Re: Hunt, Capture, and Kill
Anyway, how can I fit Valentine in right now? I'm thinking of having him either save one of the assassins against the scientist's life, or have him save the girl; in both instances, he'd probably use a sniper bullet from extreme range. Thoughts?
Also, something of a problem I just realised - a lot of the assassins here are going to have a really, really tough time against Valentine on account of his armour. The 'Dragon Skin' coat is rated for 5.56mm NATO rounds (standard assault rifle bullets), and his heavy-duty combat armour is Level V ceramic, which is rated for anything up to .30-06 Incendiary rounds. There's no way any kind of bladed weapon will cut through that - in the final fight scene of my novel, Valentine and the book's villain (who is wearing nigh-identical armour) basically do the same thing Medieval knights did and try to wrestle their knives into the gaps in each other's armour, with results that are not pretty. The only solution I can think of is for the assassins to be armed with some sort of super-sharp blades, or for some extremely brutal hand-to-hand scenes where they try to jam their knives into the gaps.
Re: Hunt, Capture, and Kill
Re: Hunt, Capture, and Kill
Also, just a note - it's reasonably likely, due to his infamy, that most of the assassins will recognise him as soon as he turns up.
Re: Hunt, Capture, and Kill
Re: Hunt, Capture, and Kill
Also, I wrote a little 'excerpt'; a random assassination by him, specifically. A way of giving you an idea of what he's like, and how he thinks.
Re: Hunt, Capture, and Kill
Re: Hunt, Capture, and Kill
Re: Hunt, Capture, and Kill
my liiiiiife.