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Quinn Bradley

"Innovation is the one true method of a future forged in light"

0 · 535 views · located in New earth

a character in “Remorseless Evolution”, as played by NotPho


Quinn Bradley


❝I fight for a brighter tomorrow❞

蛟 | Antistar

▐ The basics▐

Quinn Victoria Bradley



♥Sexuality and relationship status♥
Though a heterosexual, Quinn does not believe sex is someone one should take lightly. Rather, she believes it was a ritual that one would partake in only with those she can consider “close” and “worthy” of bedding with herself. Truly, one who takes the name “darling” or “husband” is only worthy of such an act.


Quinn is someone who always valued strength. The strength to protect oneself, and the things one might consider important it above all other qualms within life. Despite her pursuit of great power, Quinn is also someone who believes that ones who have power must protect as many as they can possibly protect. Such is the ways of those in power; ones with ability to should never neglect another, as doing so would be a misuse of their abilities for the loss of better good.

Quinn tends to comes off as a fairly friendly, though rowdy individual. Because of her philosophy on strength, she often helps those less fortunate than himself, even though she may make a few ill-mannered statements and the like. Though rather friendly, Quinn is not often aware of the impact of her words on others, and can often get into fights against others due to these sorts of statements. Though mostly a friendly person, when others happen to be in the way of her goals, she dedicates her entirety to move said obstacles from her way, whether such a way comes from diplomatic Methodism, or violence is to be determined by her opponents.

One should expect blunt statements from her. She isn't one to sugar coat things and often comes off badly because of this. She possesses a fairly upstanding code of moral conduct on the outside, probably being best described as a "threshold deontologist," and when her deems a certain act to outweigh any others in terms of an eventual moral consideration, will devote herself entirely to that route. This further ties into her usual bluntness as when her is acting towards such a goal, she will rarely try to skirt around the issue when it is brought up. If the scales of balance happen to fall in the favor of actions taken, she would simply bring herself to said path no matter the price.

When confronted by an enemy or a person of great power, however, her personality does a complete turnaround. She becomes battle ready and unafraid to strike at her opponent. After all, those who hold back in a fight will be at the mercy of their opponents, and only a fool would take such a careless approach. Quinn also enjoys a good fight against a powerful opponent. The allure of a good fight causes her blood to boil at the prospect of such. While fighting against an opponent, she will often give them her all if deemed a worthy opponent, preferring to show her supremacy while both she and her opponent start upon equal footing desired for the contest or battle in question. She's ready to fight until the end, though only against foes she deems worthy. Not likely to lose composure in battle, Quinn would never falter to a foe, even one of great strength. Despite her desire to fight against strong opponents being a strong factor in her involvement in the army, She still genially wishes to protect her fellow man, and would do so to the greatest of her ability, though understands that at times, sacrifices must be made for the better good.

Quinn, above all else, is someone who believes in justice to its core element. The ability to protect the masses is her true goal, desiring such to ensure the nature of her ideal goals be undisrupted as an investment of time. To protect those, and in turn they will protect others they are able to. The current goal of such being the defeat of demons, either through means of violence or pacifistic means, if possible.

The idea of “Kill one, save many” is a core belief that Quinn seems to employ, but does not believe that violence should be the first resort, unless against a troublesome opponent deemed “beyond saving”. Often taking a calm, cool analysis to many situations as to better use her advantages to great potential, steeling her mind and body.

Rather bombastic, constantly trying to show off and prove her prowess in battle. Though rather easily provoked, she often prefers to talk their way out of disadvantageous situations rather than running in guns blazing first. Though this is her normal creed, during situations she knows are needed to take action, she would not hesitate to perform such, even in the event that it would most likely not end well for herself. Despite this, Quinn comes off as an extremely charismatic female, often able to take leadership when the time comes for the position to be filled. Rather ironic to the former coalition, Quinn rather dislikes when she does not take lead in an operation or something of the like.

To this extent, Quinn takes a rather lax approach to many things that do not interest her, often dozing off during the more mundane lectures and the likes. However, despite this lax approach, she has been known to get rather irritated and upset by a few “buttons” she has. the nature of said buttons remains to be seen, though one might not wish to be on the opposing end of her during the pushing end of said buttons.

Despite being rather rational, Quinn does enjoy the occasional “outing”. Her “Justice” obsession does not break much past her fronted personality; a perceptive, serious, resourceful and very competitive person. Often her manner of speech takes the form of hostility and dismissive towards other people, but deep down she has a caring disposition, going out of her way to protect those around her as if a guardian of sorts.

▐ Aesthetics▐

♞Body build♞
Quinn has the appearance of a young woman in her late teens with a slender physique and soft, white skin. Though more muscular than those others of her age, she seems to believe that she does not have many “feminine points” in her appearance because of this. Rather on the short side, and on the “flat” side, she dislikes when others point these two points out.

☪Face description☪
She has finely textured golden hair which seems to shine as if fine, golden dust. Her face shows some signs of naivety and displays elegance, many people able to notice her stature as someone of wealth by simply looking at her. Her eyes glow a deep blue and seem to captivate others on first look. One might be able to call such a face “beautiful” or “elegant”, but Quinn does not believe she is either of these.

Does not truly have a set clothing that she would prefer to wear, however, she seems to enjoy keeping up with current trends and the like.

▲Pets/none weaponry devices▲
Darius: An “improved” variation of the Model: Alexander developed by Abrams family. Due to being the child of the arms company who wished to mass produce the Alexander, the Bradleys were given the prototype’s design plans as per contract dictation. Though the Alexander was never truly given to the Bradleys in its “upgraded form” by the Abrams. Because of this, the Bradley’s main inventor, decided to deviate from the former design. Grants the user immense combative prowess, such as increased strength to a much greater level, and increased reaction time to a much greater fold. Though not as defensive as the Abram’s own Alexander, it is meant to be a more “attack oriented machine”

▐ Skills and flaws▐

✘ Weapons ✘
Mjolnir Hammer: The main armament of the Lightning Stryker. Though constructed in the sense of a battle hammer, the utility of such a weapon is rather high. Based on the concept of ensuring that one has both the utility in range and close combat. The length of the hammer is somewhat taller to than the wielder, though it seems to be easily utilized in combat despite its size. There are various marks found within the hammer dispersing what appears to be static of some sort.

The first mode of the hammer is simply a hammer that emits electricity upon contact with an opponent through the will of the wielder. With its crushing strength and its electric emission, it has a rather strong affinity against electronics and projected screens and the like, and has been known to slow the movement of an IS due electrical interference. More of a blunt force weapon with a combination of status effect, though it could still be considered something that one would want to avoid contact with due to the force and effects of such.

Its other utilization comes from its bore cannon. This projects an electrical shockblast that is able to be fired at opposing forces at rather noteworthy speed. Though to a lesser extent to that of a direct impact with the hammer, it still carries a rather strong affinity against electronics and projected screens. Though somewhat limited by range, the Darius is able to combine this effect with the “Acceleration Barrier” to increase the accuracy and range of these attacks. These attacks can be fired in quick burst, or charged over time to increase the effects of such.

Additionally, the hammer can create an electric field around the user, damaging the surrounding targets in question. The damage is not as profound as a direct hit with the hammer, though does damage the opponent a fair amount. The projected field reduces the effect of the other modes, though does have its uses.
Acceleration Barrier: A projected field caused by “shooting” two metal prongs together from the shoulders of the machine. These metal prongs emit a strong electromagnetic field which is able to “accelerate” an item in question, usually a projectile of sorts, though some effects have shown when one utilizes other items. These become especially effective when utilizing the effect of the Mjolnir Hammer, increasing the accuracy, range, and force of the attack by a great margin. These prongs may also be deployed in the air through a floatation ring embed upon such. The Darius carries a fair amount of these to ensure it is able to utilize this ability a fair amount, and the prongs recall when the user dictates them to do such. The user is able to dictate what is accelerated by such; other items will not work through it without the users permission. One might say this ability is able to change the “vector” of an approaching object to the directed energy of a vector in a 3-dimensional graph to the user’s will.

The main defenses system that Quinn utilizes is the ability to stealth herself during a battle, allowing for herself to position herself better in a fight if she is presented in a rather disadvantageous situation. Things such as thermal vision is also offered to herself, which assists in her tracking of opponents, as well as base increase of the “damage threshold” given from the armor.

☠Skills and techniques ☠
Extremely skilled in the “art” of invention. From a young age, she spent much time tinkering with things to bring out the “greatest” performance from said items. Also, she is very skilled with various weapons, but she prefers the main armament of the “Darius”: “Mjolnir Hammer” due to its versatility in battle.

The main flaw that Quinn has is that she can be easily angered in the event that others understand what angers her. At the same time, her armor is more offensive than defensive, so she could be considered a more “glass cannon” fighter, though she is not without any sort of defensive stats.

▐ The past and present▐

♚Basic history♚
An heir. That was truly all she was; someone to be used as a political means to obtain status within the world. Quinn, from a young age, was forced by her father to supersede his corporate empire, the manufacturing of such mostly prioritized towards the military sector. Despite this, Quinn seemed to enjoy her status. She was well-off and simply needed to conform to a set of instructions in order to eventually obtain capital for herself; truly such a payoff would be worth it in the end. Even though she was “content” with her position, she truly enjoyed the use and manufacturing of weapons. During her early life, she had been the creator behind various weapons that would soon become standard issue the conflicts to pass.

As well as creating weapons, Quinn also seemed fascinated by the use of such, often training in both swordplay and arms usage at a young age.
As one of the leading manufacturers of weapons in the worlds, seconded only to the Abrams family, it made sense that these two manufacturers would be rivals in the field, constantly fighting over supremacy and challenging one another with innovation and the like. Unbeknown to both Quinn and William Abrams, they were rivals in weapon engineering for a long, long time.

Despite this, Quinn and William were to work in a cooperative manner on a “power armor” like item that would revolutionize the way wars were fought. This deal soon went south due to the war, but the Bradleys were able to keep the blueprints of the “power armor”, Quinn creating her own deviation of this during the after-years of the war.

♛History with the war including thoughts♛
Her family’s fortified house was defeated by an organized army of bandits or some sort of faction she has yet to discover the name of such. A similar fate had happened between both the Abrams and Bradleys in a rather short time frame that seems to suggest foulplay was at work. As the last surviving member of the Bradleys, she had decided she would continue forward in her family’s name to prove supremacy. More importantly, she wishes to prove her design, the “Darius”, is superior to her family’s former rival’s design, the “Alexander”, as well as hunt down the perpetrator(s) to her family’s murder.

♫Events to note so far in the RP♫
Nothing to note

She seems to enjoy various sweets

So begins...

Quinn Bradley's Story


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Character Portrait: Quinn Bradley
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#, as written by NotPho


It stays in her vision; an isolated town, ruined and destroyed beyond repair. A ghost town, never to be known by life once more
The baron wasteland before her reminds me of the past. Memories long forgotten. She could not remember them well; fragments broken into little pieces. Memories merely amounted to the perception one holds towards events; events that have been forgotten by time. The once lawful peace that held together society had been brought to rubble
Like this town before her.

She could see the echoes of the past in this town. The former glory the town had once contained was lost, only to be replaced by an aging epitaph to the once bustling markets and liveliness of the town center, always existing in her head, but never appearing, as if lost within the flow of time.

She would normally attempt to avert her gaze from these sorts of sights and the memories that came with them.


She had been haughty, thinking that by her own hands, her inventions could be used to protect those she cared for.


Witnessing the life of people she loved wasted though systems she had designed.


Thoughts of a time when this city was habitable.


As if struggling through a deep mist. As if writhing in the midst of a bad dream. Since the world broke, just as the city before her was broken years ago.

The once happy village, reduced to a mere shell of its former self. She had seen it in its glory long ago.

The term 'village' was probably the best way to describe the surrounding area. The buildings that belonged to this area were, although destroyed, quite noticeably obsolete structures that should've been replaced years before the war had even begun. But maybe this place had at once been a countryside where people simply did not care about what was new, or popular.

“How long ago was it?” she wondered to herself. Time seemed inconsequential with the event that had occurred. Time was merely an illusion of man to begin with, but with the deconstruction of culture, one might say that such a luxury was no longer something to bear witness to. Time was not something that most would be able to comprehend without the culture of time behind it.

This was a world without hope; without time of its own. Walking corpses littered what was once “people”. Shells of former “humanity”. The world was no longer something to consider “alive”. Merely a perpetual machine, refusing to stop at the request of others, lost in the flow of the concept known as “time”, however without knowledge of the mechanisms behind such.

She did not understand why she had made her path through this town. After all, she had determined her goal long ago.

She” was Quinn Bradley, heir to the Bradley Corporation. Or rather, it would be more apt to consider her the “former heir”. The Bradleys were no longer an operational company with the recent events that had taken the lives of many she held dear to herself.
What was the reason for the betrayal of her family?

Was it for money?



Quinn cared not for the reason for the betrayal, but only wished to gain satisfaction by cutting the “time” from those who had caused these emotional and physical lacerations upon herself. There was nothing really holding her forward anymore besides this desire.

Once known for her amazing weapon designs, rivaled only by another corporation, but Quinn always believed her designs to be superior to that man’s. Now, she travels the world as a traveling mechanic, only wishing for her own salvation. Only wishing for her several year-long strife to finally conclude.

The destroyed scenery seemed only to convey a sense of longing, forgotten by age. She knew these streets. Her father had brought her to this location many of years ago, it’s citizens in the middle of some sort of festivity.

She could remember them dancing, but not a single face could be recalled. Their visage passing through Quinn’s eyes; apparitions lost, only to be remembered by few. They were not physical entities, merely existing within the viewpoint of Quinn, but their cultural dance grew in fervor, as if wishing to break their shackles to the mind.

And just as suddenly as it started, the dancing stopped, as if it had never existed before.


It was such a fragile thing. Memories are something that best left in their tombs, never to be exposed to the light of day.
One can only move forward.

One cannot allow previous faults to ruin oneself.

All one could do is move on. Forget their former markings and continue on their path to their own desires. Brought only through struggle can one realize their potential. A brighter future was something to look forward to, and Quinn knew that she could innovate a generation through her designs.

She realized the scene before her after but a moment of analyzing her surroundings.

The dead.

Not the pseudo-dead that lived in the city, simply acting on impulse of a dying world, but the true death.

There had been a skirmish of some sort, leaving several dead individuals lying on the ground. They might have had families. The might have been good people. They might have killed families. They might have been demons. It did not matter anymore. After all, death is the end of the road here on this dying rock.


Quinn had seen death before. It did not bother her. She did not have attachment to these people, so their lifeless frames were meaningless to her. All she could do is continue forward. All she could do was hope for the brighter future she promised she’d pave the way for.

These dead individuals were not something she could afford to gawk at.

After all…

“Hold it right there, little miss.”

A voice had rung out behind Quinn. For some reason, she did not understand her this man had appeared without her noticing. Maybe she was deep in thought? Either way, it could have been a fatal mistake if this person had decided to start with action in place of speak.

Quinn turned around to see the person who had requested her attention, calling her such an outdated term as “little miss”. The man seemed to take the appearance of something one would expect from a mook in a children’s action show. He seemed to play the part to himself well. There was nothing really wrong with the other. He merely knew a means to live through the exploitation of others. Evil owns its very existence to the vestigial remnants of “mankind's” bestial nature. It matters not the race one was. Everyone had an inherent “evil” within them. No one was exempt from this clause. It merely manifested differently from “person” to “person”. And this person had manifested itself in the form of a “raider” or a “bandit” or something akin to that.

Quinn did not know if the fight before her had destroyed the city, or if the bandits that now existed within such looted the place to such a degree, or if the bombs had caused enough destruction to this village, but one thing was sure; Quinn needed to be on her guard.

“It might be dangerous for a little girl to be wandering alone like this. Something might happen and I am sure you’d regret it,” The man said, seemingly acting in a strange manner. Perchance his intellect was robbed from him when the bombs dropped? Either way, he did not seem to have the greatest of intentions towards Quinn.
There were more of them. Three in total to be exact.

Maybe they had killed the people dead on the ground? It did not seem that way. Both the people now surrounding Quinn and the people dead had a similar “uniform” on. It would be best to assume they were part of the same group, so to speak.
“I come here to find a lot of my comrades dead, but a little girl shifting throughout our former outpost. Perhaps you had something to do with this?”

“She looks really scrawny boss. I doubt that she could have done anything at all,” one of the mooks called from behind Quinn. She was surrounded at this point. But she would not make a move until they had. After all, she was not a murderer. She merely wished to continue forwards, and if others wished to stand in her way, she would not hesitate to defeat them. She had to continue forward, if her honor as a Bradley meant anything.

“They happened to have died long before I had arrived. If you would excuse me now, I need to get going.”

Quinn stated. She did not care about their morality. If they would not confront Quinn, she would have no reason to fight them. She did not like pointless fights such as.

Unfortunately kiddo, you ain’t goin’ nowhere,” one of the goon snickered at Quinn’s statement.

It appeared as if this would have to take a turn for the worst. Quinn did not want to have such trouble. She merely wished to follow a “scent” that she wanted for a long, long time.

“I will ask you one last time. I don’t want you to end up like your comrades right there.”

“You little bitch, I’ll kill yo-“

He could no continue his statement. The battle had already begun.

Quinn’s Armor had been equipped, as if appearing from nowhere. A battle armor that would not let her lose this engagement. The pride of the Bradleys. There was no way that these raiders would be any match for this armor.

In the eyes of the raiders, prior to this transformation, Quinn was the ant to their magnifying glass. They believed that Quinn did not have the capacity to fight back. But looks can be deceiving. After all, the invention of this power armor was to increase the capacity for those trained in the arts of war.

Hammer in hand, the mooks were nothing before her.

She had been the designer of this particular hammer, as well as the armor itself. The “Darius” and the “Mjolnir Hammer” were both designs of her own. As such with the rather primitive weapons utilized her opponent’s, they should be child's play.

What the hell is that?” questioned one of the raiders.

“I don’t know. Shoot at it!” Suggested another.

A hail of bullets were shot towards the Darius and its operator- Quinn.

A normal human would be turned into cheese in a similar instance. But Quinn and the Darius were different than a normal human.
“Initiate mode: Unseen Threat.”

As if blending with the background, the Darius had become unseen from any others. As if vanishing off of the radar. The bullets merely passed through the space where the Darius once existed, as if the mechanism and its utilizer were never there to begin with.

“The hell!?” Questioned one of the raiders, looking in all directions for the area in which the Darius could have went.

That was when it had appeared to the side of him, and with one strike from the hammer, the raider had been killed. The strength and power of the user was increased many fold from utilizing the Darius, and with enough force of swinging the hammer, it would be no wonder that someone’s skull would be an easy target to cave in.

The next person was a bit far away. One would imagine if the main weapon was a hammer, they would be easily defeated by ranged weapons. But the “Mjolnir Hammer” was not any sort of normal hammer.

“Take this you bitch!” Shouted the man, about to raise his weapon at Quinn.

But that is when “it” happened.

The hammer was raised as if a rifle, and suddenly an “orb” or sorts was shot out from the “bore” of the hammer, exploding as it hit the target.

Another easy kill.

The last bandit, seeing his comrades killed off, one at a time, decided it would be best to flee.

A huge mistake.

“Deploy Acceleration field.”

An electromagnetic “gate” was formed before Quinn. Something that would improve the accuracy and damage from her main cannon.

Shooting another shock blast, this time though the field she had conjured, the last raider lay a smoldering pile of ash.

They were easily defeated, killed without hesitation. There was “no rest for the wicked”, after all.

All they needed was to allow Quinn to move forward. Because of their actions, they were punished for what they had done. Quinn was not a heartless individual, but when others are to intend harm to her or others, she is not the sort to simply relax and let go. She was a person of principle.

Either way, she should simply continue forward. That was all she could do now. Forward, now and forever…


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Character Portrait: William Abrams Character Portrait: Quinn Bradley
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#, as written by NotPho

The deeds were done.

Quinn had extinguished the fire of life once more from others. It was not her first rodeo of "killing", however, she tended to prefer other means of resolving conflicts over that of violence. Despite this, violence was not a stranger to Quinn. After all, how would someone who worked on weapons not be an advocate of violence.

After a few moments, Quinn decided that she would have to leave. Leave this place she had remembered from the past; memories blotting the continuous perpetuation of her mind. An anchor or something akin to this, pressuring her down. As if struggling through a deep mist. As if writhing in the midst of a bad dream.

Death by crushing their skull.
Death by blowing them away.
Death by forgoing mercy.

These people had deserved this fate. Those who would fight against Quinn; prevent her from obtaining her true goal, would meet a similar fate. There was nothing wrong with what she had done. After all, it was a dog-eat-dog world, and whomever had the "larger stick" would be victorious.

In the end, that is what would occur. The weak would always thrive over the weak. It was always this way, even before the war, but now in the time where only the husks of people; ghouls without purpose. Time had stopped for all. There was no future, but Quinn cared not if the future was not something that existed. She would continue to press forward, hoping for the bright future promised to her in the past.

"Well," Quinn said in a rather bored sounding voice. She had been used to death all her life. She understood that her inventions were the reason many had died, and she accepted this fact. After all, she was once one of the greatest minds of the military-industrial complex. The Bradley's main inventor; a means to something greater. A person attempting to create what they desired to reality.

"I suppose I should leave."

There was no point for Quinn to continue within this town. This was a detour to her true goal. She wanted knowledge. She had the ability to obtain this knowledge and a desire to push forward. She was strong, therefore, she could not falter in the face of an opponent.

Even now.

Even now.

She had to press forward. That was the only way. In a dying world, this was all Quinn could truly accomplish. In a world that had simply given up to the temptation of war, forward was the only means.

To the ideal which Quinn held to herself.

To a brighter future; a future forged in light.


The voice came as a surprise to Quinn. Was it another one of those goons from earlier? It was pointless to continue fighting in the even that it was. She did not want to kill another for no reason. Maybe she could convince the other to leave without fighting. That would truly be the best. He might wish to avenge his comrades. Maybe the name of his comrade was this "Alexander". She had heard that name long ago, though she could not remember from what.


Who was this "Alexander" she seemed to recall. Not a face, not a person. But she could not understand what it was that "Alexander" could refer to. Something inhumane, but the ideal of another, similar to how the "Darius" was her own ideal.

Who was this person?

Quinn turned around, only to see something that seemed abnormal. There was another armor, just as her own, before her. Had someone obtained the knowledge of her project? She understood that the "Darius" the only one of its kind. A power armor without any sort of competition. How could something like this exist without her knowledge.

Still, there was also something informing her that this was no the "Darius". Despite their closeness in appearance, her own had seemed different in terms of construction. Her own seemed to be more of an offensive argument, where as the person before her seems to be more defensive in terms of construction.

"Who are you, and why do you have my armor!?" Quinn shouted at the other; the one she believed stole her designs.

Quinn did not understand how there could be another Darius, however, she understood that the person before her could be a clue to a mystery that had haunted Quinn for years now. A mystery which would soon end, Quinn hoped.

A goal.

A memory.

A desire.


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Character Portrait: William Abrams Character Portrait: Quinn Bradley
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William was the heir to the supposed biggest weapons manufacturer in the world before its collapse. His name, Abrams, was known by even those who never thought about picking up a gun, or murdering somebody. It was a name that inspired not only respect, but fear. It was a name of 'gods' within the weapons industry. As one grows up with such a heavy name behind them, many things are expected of them, and whether they meet these expectations or exceed them is entirely up to the individual in question. William Abrams was one of the people who far exceeded these expectations. When it came to making any form of weapon, be it a gun or a sword, the young heir always produced perfection. And as such, he received praise worthy of his perfection. But one cannot just be admired, envied, and held up their entire life. It brings about traits that people don't necessarily enjoy. Yet, the Abrams cared not about attitude, only efficiency.

"The world shall be yours one day, William" his father had told him, long ago.

This was not encouragement for him to try his best. It was a statement given in a monotone his father always had seemed to have. It told him he did not have the luxury of screwing up, or being mediocre or average at what he did. To run a world, you needed to be perfect, and keep it that way always. Even the smallest of mishaps could spark a chain of negative and irreversible events that could very well end the Abrams' name. And to the entirety of the family, William included, it was the very thing they valued above all. Even if one wasn't proud of the current holders of that name, the name itself was always sacred. It had so much history behind it, nobody could blame them. The feats Abrams had accomplished over the decades were always awe-inspiring.

There was never room for someone to set the young heir on the 'right path', as it were. He was instructed on the tools of war and how to make them, how they came to be and what was yet to be. Things normal little boys weren't supposed to learn. Love was a dirtied word to them, used typically when talking about themselves and never any other. Mr and Mrs.Abrams had married out of desire to ensure a profitable future, not out of this so-called 'love'. so, without guidance, it should come as no surprise that William turned out as he did. But judging by his indifference to killing, rather than having developed some twisted delight in it, perhaps he had potential to be a very kind person had he been born in the right circumstances.

Oh well.

A 'what-if' like that will only remain fantasy. There is no changing the past, only shaping the future, and William was proud in himself for being able to shape a certain aspect of the world's future for quite some time. And it is this reason why he is so easily irritated when his abilities are questioned. For if he did not have the skills he thought he had, then what would he have? There was no family to return to. No friends to return to. He had only himself. It was this way his entire life, and so he grew to love the one person he had, and would protect their name with a ferocity unmatched by others. He knew of no other way, after all.

"Who are you, and why do you have my armor!?"

".... Your armor?" William repeated with a distorted voice through the speakers in his suit. He raised his eyebrow as well, but it was impossible to see this. Who did this person think they were? Surely they were jesting, for it was obviously his design they were using as a base for their own suit. Although, judging by its appearance, it likely would be more fragile.

William would have to laugh at this joke.

"Fwahaha! Amusing! Not only have I been robbed, but the criminal is claiming our roles are reversed? What audacity! But I'm afraid I must implore you to remove what rightfully belongs to the Abrams family, at once."

He was not sure how his tech came to be at the hands of this person, but he did know one thing: They had to be related to the incident that took his home away from him.


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#, as written by NotPho

The Abrams might have been the largest military arms manufacturer in the entirety of the world, but they were not without rivals. Even the greatest of those have those who would be able to best them given the correct circumstances. If the Abrams were the “largest”, they were not the “only”. Such a monopoly would never exist in such a thriving industry.

Though not the only company to rival the size of the Abrams, the Bradleys might be considered the only company with a chance to take the offensive upon such a conglomerate. From competition bore greater quality of weapons, each company attempting to out preform and outplay their competition. From competition bore innovations, each generation of weapons superior to the last. From competition bore

But competition is not the only sort of interactions these two masters of industry had together

There was once a time where the head inventors of both factions were to create a weapon beyond that of all current arms. One that could stand against all adversities. A true ultimate weapon that could not be stopped by normal means.

That was the project known as “Alexander”.

Though never placed into motion due to the fallout, both companies had taken the work done on this project and it was declared a scrapped project, both companies losing interest with one another. Both companies merely wishing to protect themselves from what could be considered the worst war in recorded history.

Both companies would brace the fallout separated in place of being together.

The once planned “super-corporation” was reduced to ash, just as the world around them. It was all they could do to maintain balance within their own ranks. It was a fool-hearted move that one would never be able to accomplish with the world in such a state of disrepair

The heirs of such would never see one another again.

What does it mean to fall in love with someone? No one truly knows this feeling for themselves.

She had known nothing of romantic love.

She was not even interested in such petty concepts. These were just constructs dictated by the lower-class’s media; a fantasy of the bestial nature of humans.

That was why she was so surprised… when she fell in love with him. She was only ten, but that meeting had changed her entire life. In the garden of her family’s manner, she had met the person who was to be betroth to herself.

A mere political move.

Quinn believed she would never play along with such a transparent move.

…however… the first time she laid eyes on him, she understood her feelings.

He was gentle

His words and eyes were calm.

He knew far more of the world around her than she did.

And his stories were enjoyable.

By the end of the day, she had fallen in love for this man. She gained a single weakness. Just one, but a great one at that. Never showing this to any others, Quinn kept her heart locked away, never to speak about this. She could not allow others to know.

“I love you”

She wanted to say these words.

She wanted to make her feelings true; known to this boy she had met that day.

However, she knew how cruel the world could be; how unforgiving, but she never existed that it would affect her…

Quinn was no longer a child. She was no longer bound to tradition or her past. She could only move forward, forging the desired outcome as she went. This was her only salvation, her only means to ensure her happiness, an illusion long eluding her. Just as the boy from her youth, she had changed.
She had a goal.

"Fwahaha! Amusing! Not only have I been robbed, but the criminal is claiming our roles are reversed? What audacity! But I'm afraid I must implore you to remove what rightfully belongs to the Abrams family, at once."

That name.

Quinn knew that name well. After all, how could she forget her family’s former rivals? That would mean this person had an affiliation with her past. That would mean this person had to know something. She could not simply allow the other to escape her.

“Abrams, you say?” Quinn stated to the other in a inquisital sort of tone. As if Quinn was the only one in this situation that could make demands. As if the armored man’s statements mattered not. After all, Quinn needed to maintain control of the situation. She could not give in to the other. She had to remain strong.

“That is a name I have not heard for ages.”

The name “he” belonged to.

Quinn had not let her guard down. Merely, she wished to invite the other to a questioning of sorts. After all, someone from the Abrams family might have caused the fate of her own family, or maybe knew something about it.

She took off her helmet, the armor still upon her body, returning back to seemingly nothing. She could not remove it. There was the chance this person would retaliate against her, but she felt that as long as she had a weapon and this man did not, she would be safe. After all, in the event that the other proved to be hostile, she could simply re-equip her helmet in an instant.

Quinn’s finely textured golden hair shined like golden dust itself. She seemed to carry herself with nobility and that of someone “greater than others”. Though her kind features seemed to display a bit more humility than other noble-types. Her eyes glow a deep blue and seem to captivate others on first look. One might be able to call such a face “beautiful” or “elegant”. One might be able to consider Quinn a face that one would not forget, her features seeming that of a princess from a story book, ironically enough, trying to be the knight of the day.

“I am Quinn Bradley, heir to the Bradley name. Might I ask for your own, man from the house of Abrams?”

She waited for a response. Who was this man, a person with the same armor as herself?


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It's gold...

Just like the color of his own hair.

It's gold.

Her hair is more golden than a fine wedding band; the same color had always been adored by him.

The beautiful gold of that long hair means that it is indeed her.

“Abrams, you say? That is a name I have not heard for ages.”

Under normal circumstances, William could have done nothing but take this as some form of insult, and promptly would have replied with one of his own. Being oblivious to his name should be a taboo, after all. Yet... this was no 'normal circumstance'. As the figure clad in a mimc of his own invention removed the helmet covering its face, it revealed someone William did indeed recognize. And, cliche as it may seem, even he was partially entranced by her very beauty as it emerged.

He recalled each detail of this person from back when they were nothing but a younger girl. Her eloquent face was adorned by eyes in the very opposite color of his own, which further emphasized her beauty. The only problem was apparently she was part dog because she woofed, or so the picture I'm looking at says. He had seen many different women in his life, and bedded ones that had been models, celebrities, or just unnaturally attractive. As promiscuous as he was, he did have quite the high standards for girls he slept with. But something about this woman before him, this beauty... it briefly entranced even he, who simply expected beautiful girls to fall for him. Perhaps even they would have noticed by the expression on his face were it visible, which thankfully it was not. There was but the smallest delay before he processed the fact that she had even introduced herself.

“I am Quinn Bradley, heir to the Bradley name. Might I ask for your own, man from the house of Abrams?”

Despite already recalling her face immediately, he was still a bit surprised to have heard the woman's name.

Quinn Bradley.

It may sound sad, but if he had to give the role of 'childhood friend' to somebody, she would be the closest fit to such. This is depressing, considering that above anything, these two were rivals. Rivals in the industry William spent the majority of his life working for, ensuring perfection for, and profiting off of. If he could think of one other person who was around his level, then she was the person as well. This woman had, time and again, managed to force him to keep his thoughts both efficient and fresh, so as not to fall behind. William was obviously too prideful to admit it, but she was somebody he couldn't fool around with in regards to weaponry. But there was a reason why William Abrams' closest thing to a childhood friend would be Quinn Bradley.

They were to be married, after all.

Instead of being rivals, they were to be partners. His family would work with theirs. His ideas were to be hers. Hers to be his. Apparently, it would have been quite beneficial to not only her family, but his own.

Could he recall his exact feelings back when they had first met? Most likely, no. All he could remember about himself was a disturbing lack of confidence and assertion. Back then, he might've even been considered 'good' and 'friendly' by anyone and everyone. But so could most of the entirety of the populace of ten year old boys. At that age, the majority were innocent of the world in most ways. He was perhaps a bit more keen on certain aspects, but he certain wasn't the same then as he was now, all those years past. It would be important to mention that, even before they had met, William despised the small girl. With his innocence came his foolish idea of 'love', as some of the works he had read were purely based around the aspect of 'romance', and that had caught his fancy at the time. Because of this girl, he was not able to marry out of love, and it angered him. Why did he not get to choose who he was with? Why did it have to be her? He didn't even know her! Yes, all of these were thoughts of a younger boy, a boy who had since grown.

Their first encounter did not go as he had initially predicted it would go. He thought that maybe, just maybe, if he could push her away, then they wouldn't marry. It was more than safe to say William thought it was her fault for the marriage. But even so, that plan simply disappeared the moment they had met face-to-face. Much akin to the present, William was briefly stunned by her appearance alone. Blood rushed to his face simply seeing the beautiful bride-to-be, and he lost any intention of upsetting her. So, their encounter was a friendly one. He did not remember much about what exactly happened, but he knew they were at least friendly up until the very last moment they saw each other.

"Quinn Bradley..." William reached up for his own helmet and, following suit, removed it from his head. Unlike Quinn, his hair was not of the length required to spill out as he did so, as well as his helmet simply 'sliding' back into the suit, so the method differed slightly. Like her, however, the hair on his head was a brilliant gold that grabbed attention the moment someone laid their eyes on it. His crimson orbs stared directly into her sapphire eyes as he spoke.

"You stand in the presence of none other than William Abrams, heir to Abrams Industries, himself." he declared, confidently as usual. "I do believe it's been quite some time since I last met you, has it not? At least, in person that is."


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#, as written by NotPho

It was him. The boy from her memory. She saw his golden hair; the same hair that she herself had. She saw his face, both beautiful and giving off the appearance of a noble individual. The same as her. The one who she remembered to be someone she cared for. Only meeting for a short while, his visage never left her field of vision, as if a dancer at the edge of her vision, constantly reminding her of what had occurred.

Perhaps it was fate? No, Quinn had learned long ago that fate is not so convenient or forgiving.

Perhaps it was luck? No, Quinn had learned long ago that luck is not so obvious and prevalent.

Maybe it was simply an encounter? Yes, these sorts of things occur all the time. This was simply something that would occur no matter the means. It was a destined encounter. After all…

“Will we meet again?”

She remembered her childish words. Of course, at the time, they may not have meant much to either of Quinn or William, but perhaps this phrase was the catalyst to this reunion. Quinn did not believe in these sorts of mysticisms, but there was always the off-chance that these sorts of mechanisms existed within the world. Rationalism, however, was a feat superior to that of mysticisms. These supposed “strings of fate” were merely coincidences. After all, there was no rational proof behind these sorts of claims. Simply, these two were after a similar "prize", and therefore their paths would intertwine eventually. Nothing more, nothing less.


She continue to see it, despite this man being before her. A simple thing, really. An obstruction that Quinn tended to prefer not to notice. A scar on her inner mind, brought forward by her desires to press forward. However, this was something that she could not see. This was something that if she had seen, her entire mind would have shattered long ago.


Don't look at it.


Terror in the face of many.



She could not allow the other to notice that something was wrong. She was someone who cared not for the past and was someone who looked towards the future. But, she did need to press forward. And to press forward she would need to utilize her experiences in order to provide the world with a future forged in light.

“…Is that really you, William?”

One of the few familiar faces that Quinn could continue to see. A visage that would simply never leave. A person that promised to meet against with herself. That was what this “William Abrams” was to Quinn.

“I would have never expected to see you in such a manner. Sorry for my “performance” earlier. It was probably something you would prefer not to see from a lady like myself.”

It was rather unbecoming of a lady to act like such a beast. Such was meant to be left to the army and those who desired to fight. It was not as if Quinn did not enjoy the battlefield, but it was rather unbecoming of a lady from a high house. If her father had seen such actions by his younger daughter, he would have most likely scolded her for these actions. After all, public image was important to a person of power. It was not as if she was really a “person of power”; a “modern day aristocrat”, at least, anymore.

“However, I will have you know that these people did try and fight me, simply because of my “simple” appearance, I suppose.”

Well, “simple” is one way to describe “short”, one could say.

“Anyway, I would love to speak with you more, but it appears that dusk is almost upon us. I would say we should look for shelter for the time being. I would prefer not to transverse these wastes in the dead of night even in the event that I am beside someone as powerful and educated as you.”

Though Quinn did not believe many could defeat her own Darius, and together with the “Alexander” from their past together, Quinn was in a state of disbelief that any sort of ragtag gang could truly defeat this duo. Despite this, the night held new-found dangers in the form of insects, parasites and even monsters no man would hope to be able to defeat. And with this in mind, Quinn figured that if they were to be within the same vicinity on one another, Questions that Quinn had upon her own mind for a while now could be answered.

“Would you care to accompany for the time being , William?”

She had to remain strong. She loved this man, but to press forward she would need to display a “coat” of sorts. One that would prevent others from understanding her true intent. After all, that event years ago had caused Quinn to become a broken person. A person without cause, placed the mind simply within a gauze of past. But Quinn was strong. Quinn could break this gauze, this self-contain boundary by herself. She could not simply think of the past, but to press forward towards a brighter tomorrow.


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“Would you care to accompany for the time being , William?”

William remained silent as this woman, one of very very few individuals from his past that he could be bothered to remember, had engaged in conversation. This girl he had known so long ago had grown up, both in appearance and personality. She was fairly quick to apologize for what he would assume she thought was an 'unsightly moment' on her behalf, and she wasn't afraid to use a few compliments to get on his good side. He would have to say that he did not dislike how she had turned out so far. For now, he could see himself enjoying time spent with she, unlike the time he had unfortunately wasted with those other people, those barbaric beings.

He still needed a shower after that one hugged him. Disgusting.

"As great as I am, even I have yet to develop a way to make war aesthetically pleasing to the eye." he began, addressing her concerns about her beastly appearance just earlier. "I would have take more offense had you not been able to deal with them by yourself." William straightened his gaze and hardened his tone. He spoke the next words with a strong, audible voice so that there could be no misinterpretation.

"I would be disgusted if someone weak thought themselves worthy to be my rival or my bride."

However, immediately afterwards, he smiled, perhaps glad to see that this was not the case for someone who had supposed to have been his bride. "It would seem this is not the case, to which I am thankful. Therefore, I have no problem accompanying your for now, Quinn Bradley."

Had it been anyone else, he would most certainly have declined. Nobody else could evoke any sign of respect from someone so confident and arrogant and prideful as William, but she was different. At one point, this was not true. Maybe it was back when they'd met so long ago, he still considered her entirely beneath himself. Perhaps it was when he'd first heard of her, he thought of her as nothing more than another name. But it certainly wasn't that way after their encounter so long ago. Because after then, despite them never really seeing much of each other, she caused him trouble. Even someone as awesome as himself was unable to take it easy when it came to the Bradleys, entirely because of her. It was the only time he had ever been forced to actually put effort into competition. If he had not, then he would certainly lose, and because he could not take this woman easy, she commanded his respect to a greater degree than anyone, even his own parents, who despite being the miserable human-beings they were, had contributed to the weapons industry to a great degree before he had come along.

Again, she had to have been the closest thing to a childhood friend he had ever known, yet she was also his worst enemy. On top of that, she had also commanded respect from even he with her brilliance and ingenuity. And such beings were rare. I'm having really fucking bad writer's block, in case anyone was wondering. Sorry.


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#, as written by NotPho

It did not take long for the two power-armor trotting adventurers of William Abrams and Quinn Bradley to find shelter within the area. After all, the buildings of the town were mostly intact, despite the constant raids from bandits and subversive groups such as driving away most everyone in this town. There may have once been a thriving commune, however, through acts of violence, acts of god, and monetary problems, many were forced to abandon the places they once called home in favor of safer cities under protection.

It was truly disgusting to Quinn. These sorts of individuals were the sort of people who Quinn hated the most; those who cannot be reasoned with, despite the overwhelming odds stacked against them. Truly, one could consider these simplistic individuals, after only valuables and the like, bringing wanton destruction within their wake, those without a future. Those who would deprive others of their future. It was not something that sat well with Quinn. Although not a "hero of justice", there was no way she could approve of such actions.

Though Quinn had hoped originally to speak with William about certain incidents that occurred, she had informed the other that they should rest for the time being. After all, piloting her "Darius" was not something to take lightly. It was a device that utilized the user's energy to enhance every fiber of their being in both combat and mechanical application; a device that would, if under prolonged use without rest, danger the user's life. It was a device that could be considered a true "double edged sword", however, utilizing the "Darius", Quinn was able to achieve feats in battle many others could consider "impossible".

There was so much she wanted to ask William. The two had not seen one another in years, both going dark within their years. They were not able to contact one another, despite their political importance within their respective factions. William was the pride of the Abrams, driving their production forward. Or at least, he was. Quinn was the head inventor of the Bradleys, both rivaling one another in prowess.

But that was not the main focus of Quinn’s questions.

There had been events which changed Quinn’s life somewhat recently; Events that seem to have sparked out of nothing. Events that would leave the weaker of mind without the desire to push forward.
However, Quinn was not most people.

She was strong.

She had skill.

She was educated more than most.

It would come as no surprise that after her world was changed, she would continue forward. After all, the only way to a brighter tomorrow is to fight all adversities which might prevent one from achieving their goals.

Either way, Quinn was tired, and she was sure that William was as well. Though there is no rest for the “wickd”, there is sleep.

It was that dream again.

The same Quinn had many times in the past.

She was younger. Not by many years, but younger none the less. She was but a girl, however, she was mature. Quinn had been one of the greatest minds of the military-industrial complex. As heir to one of the largest military conglomerates, she had been taught the trade that her family had been continuing for decades. Innovation is the greatest importance when it comes to warfare as well as the cheapness one can produce results with, and one must keep ahead of the competition to remain innovative. However, there were those who would come to dislike the Bradleys. After all, one always becomes jealous of success, and considering their position in the world, the Bradleys could be considered successful.

That was the reason “they” came. Or at least, this is the reason that Quinn had figured they had come.

“They” were numerous. Though the private estate of the Bradleys was well protected, there was no way that the trained guards could overwhelm such a numerical superiority. As such, the defense crumbled under the might of the attackers.

Though “they” might have seemed like typical bandits, there was no way that they did not have purpose; external funding and the like was probably utilized by those who despised the Bradleys to smite them down whist they did not have countermeasures. Before Quinn was her father; someone she had come to respect and care for, killed in cold blood by these individuals. She could not believe that the person she had looked up to all this time to be killed. She refused this notion, despite the truth being obvious.

Despite the warm, fresh blood now staining the floor.

Despite his lifeless corpse now sprawling itself out.


“R-run,” his fading voice attempted to croak out before he had succumb to his injuries.

Quinn had awoken in a cold sweat.

How many times had this dream been repeated? She had lost count by now, but it was well more than twenty.
She could not allow the past to be but a ghost to her. She had to press forward.

And there was one person who could assist her. She had various questions for William. After all, the other had promised to answer her questions in the morning. Therefore, she would not




She had enough. He would not even budge, staying perfectly still with a seemingly content look upon his face, much to Quinn’s chagrin.

“WAKE UP ALREADY!” she shouted, relentlessly pestering the other in a shaking manner.

How could someone she remembered strong act so leisurely. Sleep was important, but such would simply cause one to become a lazy dullard. And Quinn could not have that from someone destined to be her “beloved”.



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Although he was quite accustomed to a more luxurious estate William surprisingly did not have any serious problem taking refuge in something that amounted to a shack. He had long ago realized that if he complained about everytime that he would have to sleep somewhere he did not particularly find attractive, then he would be wasting his breath just about any instance where he went to close his eyes. This, of course, did not mean he enjoyed sleeping in ruins or the like, it simply meant he would tolerate it. Getting sleep was necessary for the body to function after all.

There had been little talk when they finally found their place to bed, and that did not really bother William. Here was a woman from his past, one he was supposed to wed and spend his life with, but he did not show any real sign of being too interested in her at all. He was tired from the stress of all the events that had happened today. Being tainted by that beast-woman's touch, finding a possible lead and then losing it, becoming a victim of thievery, and, most importantly, reuniting with his biggest rival in the weapons industry. Going to sleep, even if it be uncomfortable, was much more appealing that dealing with any more fatigue. William was out in mere seconds after lying down.




Discovering his father face-down, broken and bleeding on the ground was not as traumatizing as it normally would be for William. It was typically how people ended up after being shot and losing consciousness or, in this case, his their life. The crimson pool continued to grow as blood seeped from the wound on William's Father's chest. His heart had been obliterated by a single bullet, and it was unlikely he even felt much pain before he died. The blonde man that gazed upon the corpse did not feel anger or sorrow. He did not tear up nor did he clinch his fist. But perhaps that much is to be expected. When introduced to death at a very young age, it becomes much to easy to shrug a life off, especially of those you don't particularly care for. In William's mind, it was not much different from witnessing the death of someone they had captured and used as live tests for the Abram's weapons. It was just a death, nothing to feel anything from. Nothing to be sad, angry, or happy about. But he... he felt something. Something foreign, something strange, something awkward, something unknown. The feeling was not positive and he did not hold any sense of attachment to the owner of the body that now lay on the floor. He expressed no desire to remain near the body any longer.

So.... why did he not just pass it by like the many bodies that littered the grounds of the estate before?

Showing respect to those who did not deserve it was not something William was capable of. He had no qualm about kicking his father's deceased body to roll it over, save maybe that he'd get blood on his shoes, although the aforementioned dead bodies scattered across the ground had already accomplished that. He wanted to know what was causing this strange feeling inside of him. He knew it couldn't be some form of hidden sorrow, he knew that was the truth - that he did not feel sadness towards the man's death. But, then what was this? As the body rolled over, his father's face was revealed. It was then that William knew what the feeling was.

He felt disgust.

A pitiful, cowardly expression was the last thing his father wore on his face. His features twisted in fear, it wouldn't be too hard to predict his last words, had he managed to mutter any. He probably died saying something along the lines of, "Please.... no" or, "I don't want to die...". It nearly made the golden-haired boy puke that he was related to something like that. Something so weak, so helpless, so pitiful. If there was anything in the world William could wish for that he did not already have, it was a parent he did not absolutely loath. But, well, perhaps no parent at all would suffice. Even with all of those accomplishments, a coward was a coward and a coward was useless, unnecessary. Good riddance.



The dream had not brought any particular luggage with it, be it physical or mental. That was not the first time that William relived that day, in fact he did so quite often and moreso than he'd like, so it certainly did not cause William's mood to change for the worse. However.... waking up to an insult did not have absolutely no effect, as William awoke with a scowl and a swift thump to her head.

"Do not insult me, especially in the morning, woman. I am up." he grumbled as he sat up, stretched his limbs, and popped his neck. When he was done, he turned to the blonde-haired beauty/annoyance. "Ohayou, D A R K A N D D A R K Good morning, Quinn. I assume you need something?"


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Well, it had appeared that William had finally come to his senses, although rather late into the morning. How could someone she had known deteriorate to a state of laziness? Then again, Quinn was a rather punctual individual who preferred things to become a scheduled and organized matter over that of “living by the wind’s code” or some sort of other free-spirited individual. Rather, Quinn was an individual who valued habits and predictable means of existences. Though not one to consider “thinking outside the box” as a valid point of discussion, Quinn understood that the world was operated upon by “laws of existence”, of which are unchangeable, undeniable rules that govern the world before her.

“S-sorry,” Quinn meekly apologies for her outburst, a bit ashamed of her own tone of voice. What was the reason that she had been so worked up about this conversation. The two could have discussed it at the point which Will had awoken, but for some reason Quinn felt the need to be impatient around this individual. After all, there was much she wished to discuss with this man. They had not seen one another for years, after all. There would be much “catching up” to do.

But, there was a topic which Quinn had wished to discuss with William. She wished to seek out William for a while now in order to discuss this manner, but William seemed to be a rather evasive individual to find, leaving and going, with the wind always by his side, a trail of death not too far from his wake.

Her position seemed to switch from a more lax posture to something that seemed to convey a sense of seriousness; as if the individual known as “Quinn” had changed disposition at the drop of a hat.

“It was not too long ago,” She began, as if recounting something painful; something she wished she did not have to experience once again, but would attempt to press forward, informing the other of the situation which had taken itself a position within Quinn’s heart forever.

“It seemed like an average day. No different than the one before it. My family and I were at our villa. I was continuing to work on this armor to the best of my ability; the one we had originally planned to release as a Bradley-Abrams product with the merger underway. It would, however, not retain the peacefulness of earlier in the day. “

She paused for a moment, before recollecting herself. “What appeared to be heavily armed raiders had gotten past our security personnel at the villa had begun an attack. It was a bloodbath. I was lucky to escape with my life. My father… he sacrificed himself to protect me. However, I cannot allow such a transaction against my family slide.”

Quinn looked directly at William, her icy expression never wavering, never faltering, never batting her lip in a tremble.
“Do you have any knowledge on the ones who had attacked my family? I have been searching for a while now, but all the leads I have come across lead to cold trails. Do you know anything about this, William?”


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A sharp throbbing in his head told William that he'd already gotten a headache and he had not even been awake for more than two minutes. Was it brought upon him by the pestering of the gold-headed woman he was traveling with? Quite possibly. In fact, he'd be willing to bet that this was most certainly the case. Hopefully she would not be this irritating or pain-inducing in the future, for he really did not desire to deal with it.

“S-sorry,” the woman apologized, apparently seeing that she'd done something uncalled for. At least she was not like the last woman he'd met, who had no apparent trouble referring to him as an 'ass' or something similar. Or hugging him. Or living like a feral mutt. As he thought about it, if all she did was wake him up abruptly and she did this because she had business with him, well, he could see himself fine putting up with it. In any case, she could be a lot worse than she really was.

"Try not to make it a habit if we're to be venturing these wastes longer." he rubbed his temples, only feeling the smallest of throbs now. If he was lucky all he would need is to drink a bit more water than usual today and it would calm down. Deciding this was the best course of action, he retrieved the Pocket and grabbed a bottle of water from it, thinking that the drinking should start sooner rather than later if he wanted the stinging to subside.

“It was not too long ago,” Quinn had begun, her posture straightening up suddenly. Was this what she'd woke him up for? “It seemed like an average day. No different than the one before it. My family and I were at our villa. I was continuing to work on this armor to the best of my ability; the one we had originally planned to release as a Bradley-Abrams product with the merger underway. It would, however, not retain the peacefulness of earlier in the day.“ William respected her enough to actually put effort into listening to the story, but initially was not too interested. Well, he was not until the second half of her story came about, and this piqued his interest about as well as any subject could. “What appeared to be heavily armed raiders had gotten past our security personnel at the villa had begun an attack. It was a bloodbath. I was lucky to escape with my life. My father… he sacrificed himself to protect me. However, I cannot allow such a transaction against my family slide.”

William pursed his lips a bit as he thought deeply about what she'd told him, and knew immediately that there was no way this was a coincidence. Both his and her family attacked and overwhelmed? Had it not been for their ingenuity and desire to survive, it certainly would have spelled the end for both the Abrams and the Bradleys. It could be assumed this was one goal of the attackers, although it simply did not make too much sense if it was their main objective. Why spend that much manpower getting rid of leaders of the weapons manufacturing industry? For what reason? There was more to this, as he'd initially suspected, but with another huge family obliterated in much the same way, it was all but assured that this had something to do with his research.

“Do you have any knowledge on the ones who had attacked my family? I have been searching for a while now, but all the leads I have come across lead to cold trails. Do you know anything about this, William?”

"You want to know who did this?" he repeated the question then asking quite seriously. The expression and way he asked his next question made it seem like that was odd or weird, even. "Did you really love your family enough to wish to avenge them?"


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#, as written by NotPho

Quinn pondered the other's inquisition after her own story. "You want to know who did this?" he repeated the question then asking quite seriously. The expression and way he asked his next question made it seem like that was odd or weird, even. "Did you really love your family enough to wish to avenge them?"

Did she really love her family to the extent of being able to avenge them? What was the true reason she wanted to defeat these transgressions against her clan? She could not answer this question without first giving it some thought. Perhaps it was not her own family that she wished to avenge. If anything, this was a blotch to the pride of the Bradleys, and she needed to bring to justice those who would harm innocent people. Assuming that the enemies she had faced were organized, if they were able to invade a stronghold of an important weapon designers like the Bradleys, they were a dangerous group of people for sure.

Quinn could not allow this. Her future should be one of light, however, the festering group unknown to herself was simply a blight on the world that should be removed, even if she had to do such herself. She believed in her ability. She believed in her strength. After all, in a world which had suffered so much suffering and pain from war and strife as such, this was the least that Quinn could do.

"I cannot allow for this transgression to slide. The Bradley clan has been brought to ruin because of them. I must bring them to justice at any cost I can possibly give."

This much was true She could not allow these people to continue operating as such. This group was clearly dangerous if they would be willing to slaughter civilians without any disregard for what is "right" and what is "wrong", though subjective as these terms can be. After all, if they were the victors of this situation, then their word would truly be "just" and "fair". Quinn shuddered at this thought, but the validity of "history is written by the victor" is indeed a strong concept in society. After all, the Necosapians vilified the "humans" for being inferior, as did the humans, but the result favored the Necos, even if only slightly. therefore their justice reigns supreme.

"I don't wish for your pity, nor sympathy. I simply have a mission I decided for myself long ago, and I cannot allow this "obstruction" to prevent myself from progressing towards this "goal"."

Though not much for bravado or something similarly testosterone-fueled, Quinn valued simplistic designs and efficiency over all else. Though often designing things that appear "cool" to her, most of these constructs, like her Darius' Hammer, worked extremely well due to her own ability to produce something that can be both efficient and "cool" at the same time. This was also true in her philosophy on life. She wished for a simple, effective means to bring an end to strife and the like which has plagued her life over the time these individuals had appeared, and revenge against them seemed like the option to push forward upon. After all, obstructions must be removed in order to appropriately press forward with a "future forged in light".

Maybe she took after her dad a bit too much. She seemed to hold dear to the concept of a "future forged in light" through technical advancements, just as her father proclaimed during her youth and leading up to his inevitable downfall. This was not a trait she disliked particularly, however, she did seem a bit more "optimistic" during most situations. Or at the very least, she is not the sort to give up until a goal has been reached. One might be able to call such an action stubborn, but Quinn did not mind this. It was a trait which had pushed her designs further, never giving up at hitches in the road.

That was the moment she realized something was off. A draft had appeared and chilled her. For some reason, she was much colder than she normally was. Was the temperature outside a bit cold? It did not seem to change much from yesterday. This was strange to Quinn to say the very least, but she could not determine the cause of such.

However, she seemed to have forgotten to place on "appropriate" clothing in her haste for answers and was still in her "Night outfit", which was nothing more than the layer of her undergarments. Definitely unbeknownst to Quinn that this had taken place. After all, it was embarrassing for her to open up to a man like the "Abram's boy", it would not be something she would prefer to dress so scantly in front of the other, but here she was.

"E-either way, I do not know the reason for my actions, but I do desire to bring these individuals to justice. By the way, is it slightly cold in here for you?"


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William was met with an interesting answer, to be sure. He honestly expected her to answer openly about it, but it seemed even asking that question had caused some sort of internal conflict within herself. Unfortunately, William was not the type to enjoy manipulating others, it just simply wasn't his thing, so he decided to leave the subject at that. It would be much better this way anyway.

But why did William ask that? Was he starting to regret the relationship he'd had with his own parents? His own family? Was he starting to regret every relationship he'd had up to this point? Thinking hard about it, he had realized that the people he liked most weren't existent. He did not prefer his father or mother to a stranger on the street, and he did not prefer a neco to a homosapien. The woman in his bed weren't treated that differently from the woman on the streets, save for some smooth talking he never truly meant. Had he been living a empty life? He only ever seemed to truly be happy when he was working on weapons, and those murdered people, if one was to be extreme. But even then, this was the first time he decided it necessary to question it, in his own way. Before it had never bothered him in the least.

"I don't wish for your pity, nor sympathy. I simply have a mission I decided for myself long ago, and I cannot allow this "obstruction" to prevent myself from progressing towards this "goal"."

"I won't pity you nor try to hinder your attempts. It is a fact that I myself am currently investigating the whereabouts of the same group of people you are, and it would perhaps be best if we were to search for them together, as they caused me similar grief. I had been working on my Alexander when a group of men had stormed my estate and murdered everyone there, save for myself. I managed to bring my prototype with me." he answered, then added, "It would be safe to assume that there was a reason for the attacks on us, and we're connected to it somehow. Although I can only give a few educated guesses as of now, the suits are most probably the cause."

William had noticed the weapon that Quinn's model owned when they had first met earlier. It was some form of hammer, albeit with much modification likely meant to differentiate it from others. What it was capable of was information William was not privy to yet, but he assumed due to that that Quinn preferred to go on the offense, as due to him being limited to buffing his armor's integrity, he was unable to produce a suitable weapon in the same amount of time. He deduced that her suit might not be able to handle near as much damage as his could, though with that hammer it definitely had the better offensive capabilities. But this was fine. A suit was meant to protect. There was little William feared Alexander could not handle when it came to weaponry. Small arms fire was all but useless against it, and heavier weapons could typically dent at most. Only the heaviest weapons had a chance of outright destroying it, and that would likely be impractical. Needless to say, the only true weakness with his suit was its power drainage. And he'd get to fixing that soon enough.

"E-either way, I do not know the reason for my actions, but I do desire to bring these individuals to justice. By the way, is it slightly cold in here for you?"

The gold-haired man did not hide his eyes as he checked the woman out, and spotted the very reason why she would make that sort of comment. "If I had to guess, it is because your choice of apparel is rather lacking as of now." he said straight. He would admit she did rouse him in some ways, but he certainly wasn't about to get flustered over something like this. It just wasn't like him at all. "I assume you don't plan on going out like that?"


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#, as written by NotPho

Yes. One could simply state that the sentiments felt by both the owner of the "Alexander": William Abrams, and the owner of the "Darius": Quinn Bradley, were similar in a marginal regard. Both seemed to have a strong desire to understand the nature of the "case" that was the death of their family. If both the Abrams and the Bradleys were to have fallen, one might assume it could have been a coordinated attack against the two families due to hostility from another group, or the desire to simply remove the two powerful arms dealerships for either political, economic, or social vendetta. A weapon distributor never seemed to get the best publicity in this regard.

But, there was the nature of Williams last comment.

The gold-haired man did not hide his eyes as he checked the woman out, and spotted the very reason why she would make that sort of comment. "If I had to guess, it is because your choice of apparel is rather lacking as of now." he said straight. He would admit she did rouse him in some ways, but he certainly wasn't about to get flustered over something like this. It just wasn't like him at all. "I assume you don't plan on going out like that?"

Her apparel was lacking? Impossible. Quinn was never so forgetful as to do something so disorderly. She could not contemplate what he meant by these statements. Did the son of Abram really dislike her apparel so much as to call it "lacking" or unfit for use outside". The nerve of some people, demanding that others conform to their view of "normalcy" in regards to clothing. Though it might not seem like it from first glance, Quinn enjoyed to keep up on fashion nuances and the like.

The nerves of this man. How dare he make fun of a woman's choice of clothing!

"I do take effort to keep up with fashion. I do not wish to get on your bad side, nor do you probably wish, most likely, to get on my bad side. I suggest that you do not make fun of my choice of fashion in the future again."

A bold statement for someone who had just chose to look at her choice of an "outfit", if it could really be called that.


Oh god.

Oh god why.

Well, this situation was one that one might not wish to make in their life.

"Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!~" Quinn wailed in her embarrassment, leaving to change her clothing and make sure that "the Abram's boy" were to forget about this little, um, "incident", one might call it.

"Not a word," Quinn stated to William. She would not have a single word be stated about this conversation without getting a combination of annoyed and flustered. Never again.png