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Remorseless Evolution

New earth

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a part of Remorseless Evolution, by LunaSpirit.

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LunaSpirit holds sovereignty over New earth, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

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New earth

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Minimap

New earth is a part of Remorseless Evolution.

12 Characters Here

Owsla Hall [79] "If you see me, The larger is not far behind."
Ace Tyrant [74] "Strength comes in many forms!"
Oreron Hall [69] "You see, you lay a hand on my daughter and she doesn't finish you...I will."
Ember Wolfe [63] "Don't let your emotions make your decisions."
Jennifer Jones [43] "Forget it, just forget it all. Memories are the only enemy."
Akira Theron [43] "I've got you wrapped around my trigger finger!"
June King [41] "The cycle of life continues. Even after death."
William Abrams [39] "Sapien? Neco? Fwahaha! What's it matter? You're all beneath me!"
Shrade [25] "I'm sorry, am I supposed to stop just because you tell me to?"
Quinn Bradley [14] "Innovation is the one true method of a future forged in light"

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Character Portrait: Akira Theron
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Akira Theron




A woman with the darkest shade of hair was digging her blade into the thick bark of a abnormally large oak tree. Her hand dragged the knife in simple directions, etching words into the wood. A smirk grew on her lips as she did this, yet her emerald eyes still looked somewhat sad. "It's kind of shit now. Everything is so quiet. I haven't ran into anyone new for weeks." Akira told the tree in a rather laid back yet chirpy tone. On closer inspection it appeared that the bark had a lot of engravings that ranged from anything from desperate, angry and barely scratched endless text to attractive curvy swirls and drawings. Once she had finished her work she tucked away the dagger before letting her body fall down into the grass to admire the result. The base of the tree now read as...

This world is sick, these people are sick. Have they lost their minds?
I hate being alone. Silence can send people crazy.
I love you.
I spent 4 hours trying to hunt down this deer today, it was fucking hilarious! I wish you were there to see how idiotic I am Asher.
Thank you for always having my back!
You are right, guns ARE a girls best friends.
I saw someone who looked like you today, made my heart flutter a little. Not half as sexy as you though!
I have got to say my hands are not half as clean as they were.

And finally.

I miss you so much.

Akira kicked at the dirt and rubble under her boots, tossing the muck into the air whispering softly. "Yeah, you have no idea." It was a kind of pitiful sight really, a lonely girl talking to her boyfriends corpse that lay under the ground just to the left of her. It was also not the best place for a Sapien for her to be lingering around; the area was pretty open despite the large oak tree and she could not force herself to pay too much attention to whatever was around her. Still she activated her thermal detector incase any unwelcome visitors decided to announce themselves. The raven haired woman's handgun remained attached to her belt along with a rifle slung clumsily across her back.

She sighed and began rummaging through her bag which only held a handful of medical equipment, nutritional pills and a flask of water. It certainly was not a pleasant amount to be trying to survive on in a world like this. She needed to be on the move as soon as possible and start collecting more useful items along with keeping a place for cover and rest. Secretly however, all Akira thought she needed to survive was some company, any kind of company. The good, the bad, and the deceased.

That was why she lay there alongside Asher's memorial and grave. It was not only the only company she could get at the moment, but also it was the only company she could ever wish to have. Yet she could not, because the war had taken his life along with everything Akira ever cared about.

So depressingly cliche eh?

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Character Portrait: William Abrams
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Image





As one approached the old, run-down and destroyed village to the north of the open ground, the sound of a struggle could be heard. The bang of gunfire, the cries of death, and the screech of metal reflecting bullets was actually quite audible in this otherwise quiet and gentle world.

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. If you looked carefully through some of the piles of buildings, old shovels, hoes, and rakes could be seen. Putting it all back together and imagining it before the war, one could feasibly see a peaceful, kind village where everyone knew each other and things were a lot simpler.

It's too bad destruction doesn't discriminate.

It did not matter what the village was, only that now it wasn't even a shred of its former glory. This was made very apparent by the collapsed sheds, homes, and barns, as well as the people who had took residence in the shadows. Despite it having been out of the way when society was still a thing, this old village was now a place where survivors would quite often pass, as a bridge to the nearest city had been all but obliterated in the war. The only way to that particular city from one side was to pass through here. And, since there was a reliable way to predict someone would go through here, there was, of course, the people who would want to exploit that.

They're typically referred to as 'scum', or 'bandits'.

In this case, it was just another day for these beasts wearing human clothing. The scout noticed someone approaching the village and quickly made his way back to tell the others to position themselves in perfect spots. Then, when the time was right, one would distract the man from the front while the rest would surround and club the guy to death. Afterwords, they'd take all of his stuff and burn the body, rinse, and repeat. The hardened faces and the utter lack of conscience in these men was evidence they'd done it more than once before and that they were, in fact, veterans of murdering and looting. To them, this should have gone as easy as any other time. But, all 'good' things must come to an end sometime.

The person they'd set their sights on was non other than the glorious, the brilliant, and the cold, William Abrams. His apparel was a flamboyant as ever, perhaps increasing their eagerness to steal from him, and he appeared as though he was paying more attention to the device in his hand than he was walking. A perfect steal. The man did not question why someone who appeared so clueless at a first glance had lived so long, but they weren't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. So, they did what they were supposed to and they took their positions in the surrounding buildings and rubble, waiting for the man's weakest moments. The distraction was set loose to bring them victory.

"Oi! Hello there!" the distraction called out from in front of Abrams, with no visible weapons on his person.

Williams looked up from his device wearing a very irritated expression already. It could certainly be deduced that whatever he was currently doing was giving him a hard time. "Yes, what is it? I'm a bit busy to be dealing with beggars right now." as he said so, he gave very short glances in either direction of him, but showed no indications that he saw anything or anyone.

The man looked over William with a very friendly gaze, but his eyes had stuck on William's hip for a brief moment longer than any other area --- where his pistol was. "Ah, no, I'm not asking for water or anything like that. We were just wondering if I coul----"

*BANG*

He was never allowed to finish the sentence. The utter lack of any hesitation by William, and the speed of which he drew the pistol from his hip and fired it into the man's temple was to be commended. Were the man capable of having any last thoughts despite his brains being blown out, they might have been 'why?' or 'how?'. The answer was because the man made a slight slip-up.

----- "We"

If William were to use The Arcana to simply look up the definition of that particular word, he's get something along the lines of "used to refer to oneself and one or more people".

The bandit died making this very simple mistake in wording. But maybe it was not a mistake, but intentional? It very well could have been part of his plan. Making that mistake was far too obvious and clumsy, perhaps he wanted to do that so William would have gotten suspicious and took his eyes off the man to make sure nobody was sneaking behind him, and in that moment, he would strike? Or, if not, the man might've thought Abrams would be more inclined to watch this man so that the men behind could get him. If Abrams had replied in a normal manner, then this man's plan was as close to flawless as you could get in this scenario. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. But unfortunately for him, that wasn't the case here. No, Abrams was already privy to how bandits worked their magic, and he did not have the slightest ounce of trust for anyone to begin with anyways, so there wasn't anything for that man to go off of. As soon as he had confirmed that he was a bandit by making that slip-up, William had no legitimate reason to spare him. It was the guy's just desserts.

William immediately dashed behind the nearest cover as soon as he'd fired the shot. His legs moved before the dead man had even dropped to the ground fully. And, in return, he heard the sharp crackle of gunfire behind him as he did so. The bangs filling the air all sounded like semi-automatic weapons, and only one of them sounded strong enough to be a rifle of some kind. These men were truly just bandits and nothing else. Pistols and semi-automatic DMRs wouldn't touch Alexander, so perhaps this was a good time to see if his adjustments were any better than a week ago. It really was not too common that he met other people, and it was even less common for him to have a real reason to use his greatest toy.

Poor souls, these men were.

"Alexander, come!"

As the armor appeared from the alternate dimension it was stored in via The Pocket, it immediately formed on the gold-haired man without delay. Before the men even had the time to push up closer to Williams faulty cover, he was already done with the process. With this, the bandits had absolutely no chance of winning, or survival.

Judging by the gunfire, not only were these low-caliber weapons that would be incapable of causing even a dent in Alexander, but there were about 5-7 men, give or take one. William's hearing wasn't superhuman until he got into Alexander, so he couldn't predict the exact amount when they were spraying like crazy, likely in a fit of anger at their loss. Then again, that difference wouldn't matter. With no way to actually cause William's harm, he could do what he damned well pleased so long as he didn't take forever. The only thing restraining him was the physical requirement of the damned suit. So, he did not waste time bolting from the cover he'd taken before, and charging the nearest man. Fearful of the sudden charge, the man started backing up and became very inaccurate as the equivalent of a charging bull did not seem to mind the bullets bouncing off him. His backtread caused him to back into a building, and he quickly turned his head simply to see what it was. In that moment, he was quite literally rammed into the wall, breaking through it.

One down.

It did not take long for the other men to realize this was not good. They'd actually been fairly accurate with their guns, but even headshots did no seem to being working at all. Still, they fired in panic at the man, an inability to figure anything else out running rampant through their group. They weren't prepared for someone to actually resist, nor could they be ready for a monster like this.

"G-get him.... ! S-s-shoot! SHOOT HIM!"

Meaningless demands from a worthless fool.

William charged the second man, using his pistol this time to fire a round in the man's knee, which - needless to say - caused him to fall to the other knee, clutching the injury in pain. This set him up for a quite powerful knee. Abrams was not a martial-arts master, although he did have some very basic training in hand-to-hand because of his research with melee weapons. While he may be a bit more capable than these men, he wasn't anything special. So, when his knee quite literally crushed the man's jaw and sent his teeth through his brain, you could certainly say this suit was something to be feared in even the hands of the weak. Since the man was obviously deceased, his gaze, hidden by the helmet, turned to the remaining men, who began to flee.

*Bang, Bangbang, Bang, Bang*

He did not waste time chasing them and instead opted to simply shoot them in their backs. The three men all fell to the ground, dying instantly or bleeding out quite quickly. It was done.

"What a waste of my time..." Abrams sighed, more irritated than before and removed Alexander from himself. He wasn't too fatigued, but much moreso than he should be with than small amount of work. If he were under fire by something than could actually be a threat, then he'd have been more careful and he would have used cover and made smarter choices in that situation. That being said, dashing from cover to cover takes more time than just rushing straight at a foe, which means he'd have spent even more time in the suit than he just did, and he'd have lost more energy because of it. As it stands right now, the suit's fairly flawed against foes than can actually do it harm, so his progress, if any, was fairly minimal.

He was on the verge of something back in his lab, before the attack. He'd nearly had solved the problem of energy consumption that was possible the only flaw he could think of. But that's to be expected. The suit was powered by its wearer. As such, it used their energy. The downside was obvious, though it did have some upsides, such as not needing an actual battery, or being affected by EMPs. He just needed his notes from lab, as well as the materials he had stocked there, and then he'd find a way to make this thing perfect. That is why this is so frustrating to him. He wants to get back to his lab so he can make this suit perfect, but the only way to get back to his lab is to make the suit perfect. What a dilemma.

As he pondered a multitude of different things, he briefly scavenged the area, mainly the bodies he had just created. He took the ammo and the guns, as well as any water he found and threw them in the pocket, so to say. He was glad he took this, because he only felt the weight of the small device and not all the stuff he was carrying, which was certainly more than someone would feel comfortable with. When he neared the body of the first man he had attacked in Alexander, he noticed the man wheezing and barely breathing.

He was still alive, albeit barely.

*BANG*

No mercy for the wicked. Those men probably murdered countless people who did not deserve such a cruel fate. Then again, survival of the strongest was the name of the game nowadays. But the worst part about this situation was that he had to waste an extra bullet. Sure, he could just leave the man to die, but the wheezing was annoying and he'd much prefer to take a small break while he could, now that he knew there were no bandits around here to worry about.

Hopefully nobody was around, that small battle was certainly far from quiet. It could've even sounded like a mini gang war, what with all the spray and pray by those guys. "Even gods need a break sometimes, I guess." and so, without lowering his guard, he took refuge in a small, mostly-intact building in the village that was now truly empty.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Owsla Hall Character Portrait: Oreron Hall
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Oreron and Owsla

Forests, a peaceful place that harbored those wanting to feel at peace and at home while also providing cover for those of...particular lifestyles. Though as one inspected the wood of said timber, one would notice claw marks and slashes of a knife in them. As if someone was making sure that they didn't get lost as the woods got denser and denser.

Two people walk among the trees. One upright and female. Dressed in a fashion that would make one think she was a warrior princess of some Neco Tribe as her armor looked made from anything that she had killed and skinned herself. The other was a large man, but walked on all fours and was dressed as if he was taking a walk from his home except for the large splotch of dried blood on his arm, face and tunic, though none of the blood coming from his own body.

"Fatha! You sure that it wasn't a good idea to clean yourself off? The shirt's gonna get seeped in the smell, and I can smell a lake nearby." The female said as she walked beside the large male who seemed to walk on all fours.
"I'll be fine. He got supplies at least so a hunt won't be needed." The male responded as he bounded ahead of the female. She snickered at him as he peeked his head out between the timber in front of them. "But at least we know you were right." he said as he pointed ahead.

A lagoon of sizable measure, reflecting the landscape before them as the female ran up to the shore in excitement and jubalence. "Finally! Thought I'd never get to see one of these again!" she cheered as she proceeded to shed her armor as the male proceeded to find a suitable spot on the shore and sat down as he watched the woman, now nude, jump into the lake and disappear into the loch.

He shook his head and laughed, having not feel a feeling of peace in such a long time. "You should see your girl, Kathleen. She's just as wild as you were all those years ago." he said to himself as the female surfaced from the water, her white mane flattened by the amount of water in it. "You comming in dad?!" she yelled as the current pulled her further out into the watery darkness. He waved to her and motioned his head. "I'll clean up later, just let me at least rest, Owsla." Owsla shrugged as her father plopped onto his back and stared up at he sky smirking. "If only you can see her now." He whispered as he closed his eyes. It had been a while since he had a peaceful nap.

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Character Portrait: Ember Wolfe
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Ember Wolfe

"I hate this..."

"What do you hate, exactly?"

"This... Talking about my life with some stranger I don't know, or like."

"I'm not a stranger, Ember. We met just this morning."

"Is that supposed to give me comfort? Especially when your a wanted fugitive?"

Silence.

Then a sound of wood scraping against wood, something large falling over and dumping its contents. Something slamming into a wall, or floor. A woman's choked plea for help. A loud snap, and the thump of a body hitting the floor. A sigh, and fading footsteps.


Ember stopped the recording there. "Killed this one quickly, and your already wanting another assignment?" A man looked her up and down, before glancing back at his arm. A holographic display of words, symbols and other things popping up from the electrical device encasing his arm from elbow to wrist. "Ahh, well, sorry. It appears, Senate is giving you some vacation time. They also suggest you see a real therapist -and don't kill this one- so as to deal with-" Ember's arm flashed out, her fingers wrapped around his throat. She glared at him... and with a slick soundless crack of energy, the man's body stiffened and arched against her hand. She released him, her eyes narrowed with concentration as she reined in her anger.

She looked down at the man, this man who was the poor soul that could have so easily died from her just throwing a tantrum. I am not a child. Tantrums are for children. Why am I acting this way? Frustrated with herself, Ember left the man lying there in the abandoned shed that had been their rendezvous site.

Ember walked out in the open, her body language suggesting pent up tension. Oh, where are the helpless thugs at a moment like this? She welcomed a fight at a moment like this, and yet... Here she was, walking as lonely as a cloud.

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Character Portrait: June King
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#, as written by Damioa
June King


When the morning came, so did the sun, seeping through the blinds like a warm lazer that rubbed itself on the forehead of June's skin. It was the only comforting thing he would let touch him in the morning and it wasn't something he was actually a fan of. Though, it was better than the cold air of his cell that he went to sleep and awoke to over the past six years. Since that time he had his share of warm mornings and to put it in a brief definition, he would call waking up in such a manner true hell. For only a demon would give you such a warm morning inside a world where reality was a bitter chill. He opened his eyes after he turned away from the light just so he wouldn't have it be the first thing he saw and rubbed the blur off of his eyes with his rough hands.

Sitting up, he looked around the white rented room and let loose a sigh, one of relief at the fact that he was lucky enough this time to wake up alone. This gave him satisfaction as it gave him confirmation that he could sleep in if he wanted or turned on the television and veg out all day. Though, it wasn't really like he was the type of person to do something like that, for it would be a waste of his time, but he liked having the freedom to do so if he wanted. He truly hated waking up to another person in his presence. Sure it would be his fault for it was he who decided to drink an overly large amount of the devil's juice to trance out the bad thoughts he had scrambling in his head when times were too quiet. It was by his own will that he would loose his will and court an unsuspecting person, just to use them for whatever reason and then leave them in the morning. Though it seemed that this morning he woke with the satisfaction of not only picking a suitable place to lay his head, but also choosing to lay his head there alone. In his time of sobriety, he truly did like being on his own. The sensation would only last for but a few hours if he didn't find something better to do with his time.

So, what did he do? He left the high priced hotel and took to the streets of the current city he was taking refuge in. It was a pretty nice looking area, people had their smiling faces and all looked peaceful. The whole smell of it was to die for, literally. He hated seeing people smile and live their calm and boring lives. It almost made him want to pull out the guns he had stuffed in the back of his trousers and fire at random areas. However, upon thinking those thoughts he realized that it would be completely out of his character. Yes, the people can smile all day and night for all he cared. They could be completely unaware of the world he was a aware of. Let them enjoy their time of peace and the faces of their families, for like all things, it would be inevitable that one day they would be torn forcefully apart from them. Oh how he pitied them. For they were blind to what really went on around them. Outside of their protected world was a world of murder, sadness and cruelty. A world that he knew too well.

It was at this point in time that he thought about the people he met while in incarceration. The people who, like him, lived in the world of sorrow, but unlike him, dwelled in it on purpose. How long until he became like them. No, the man didn't look it, for he was scared by the world of darkness, but he was still young. Still considered innocent, as he remembers being called by the others who were around him. If he, who was already thinking the way he was, was only an innocent in that world, then what were those men who called him so? What were going through their minds? It had always sent chills up his spine thinking about them and comparing himself to them, but what etched his spine even more were the people who lived in this white world. The people who go to sleep thinking that what happens to a lot of people in the world will never happen to them. It was all so much to think about. Too much. He wanted a drink already and it was barely noon. At times like these, he would take out a stick of tobacco and suck hard upon it like it was fuel for his very soul.

"Ex-excuse me sir."

June looked up at the man with his hate filled eyes, not even noticing he was giving the man a death glare. The two stared at each other, June with cigarette in hand and the man with his pen and paper. The man looked as if he was expecting June to say something, but instead the man took a drag of his tainted air and blew it slowly from his mouth.

"Um... Yes, well, this is a non smoking restaurant. I'm sorry to say, but I'm going to have to ask you to step outside or put it out. If you will sir."

June took one more drag before fondling the small piece of burning paper in his hands and crushing it in his palm. The waiter gave a slight bow and smiled. "Thank you very kindly sir. Now, what may I do for you today?"

June sighed at how the man was treating him. As if he was royalty. He who, in his mind, looked like bum who had been struggling to make ends meet. He truly wondered how people thought of him. "Tell me," he said in a low, but at the same time, soft voice. "What am I?"

"Excuse me sir?"

"What do you think I am?"

The waiter tilted his head, giving the expression of fear and confusion. "I'm not sure what you mean sir."

"Sapien or Neco? It's quite simple. What am I?"

The man in front of June looked like one of those types who worked for a living, struggling with bills and mostly worked for tips. He probably had kids who went to school and, if they went to school in this city, he had to come up with extra cash just so they could ride the damn school bus. This man was indeed a Neco, as were most of the people in this retched area, but June wanted to know just what went through the mans mind as he spoke to him.

"I'm not sure what you're getting at sir, but if I had to guess, based on your eye color and the way you carry yourself, I'd say you were a Neco. Not to mention Sapiens don't seem like the type of people who can just eat here at this time of day. Work hours and such."

"I see. Hmph." June rested his hand on his chin. "I'd like the breakfast special, not hot, but not cold either. I'll be paying double for my meal."

"Oh yes sir. Thank you kindly."

Even though the mans observation was wrong, he did have a point. His point shattered June's observation of him which was to say that two Homosapiens were just speaking to one another. Though, June didn't have to work his but off at a restaurant where they made you call everyone sir at a respectful manner. No, his job was more wretched than that, though it had to be done. Taking out a small handheld device that resembled a touch phone he turned it on skimming through all the words on what seemed to be a list of some kind. One name caught his eyes. Eiser Talison. The name was one that he had heard before, years ago when he was in confinement. This man was one who enjoyed eating, not at restaurants, but at his own dinner table. Though the food on the menu wasn't what you would find at a restaurant anyway. He enjoyed eating what some would call, trash, and what others would call kin. None other than the countries most notorious cannibal. He had met him in person once. The man looked to be just an average male of middle age. Though, everyone looks that way at least once in their life. Just a wolf in sheep's clothing. Seems had just enough enemies to get a bounty on his head. One June hoped to collect in the nearby future. Though if it meant getting out of this bright city, he'd do it for free. Sure he could just ignore the job all together, but this was something that had to be done. After all, he wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing he let some sick wolf feast on the sheep. Though, it was distasteful to do so, he had to kill off the demons so that the happy smiling souls that filled this city could keep on smiling.

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Character Portrait: Ace Tyrant
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Ace Tyrant




A golden and jet black blur dashed out of the door of a large, old and Sapien looking log cabin. The area was not as overgrown as the rest of the forest and clearly had been tended to with careful hands that had a lot of spare time. Ivy vines now climbed up it's wooden walls, simple tulips were planted on its edges and a very finely made and attractive bench swing sat in the corner. It seemed like a pleasant place to spend half a lifetime, but the noise that once came free with the house had now faded away to near silence as over the years visitor numbers had decreased. Ace's woodland cabin sure did have some stories to tell.

The pair began kicking up dust as the canine leapt around the male joyfully, snapping at his wrist but not actually letting his jaws clamp around the limb. Ace gave a silky laugh and clumsily dodged away, before slowing his pace and taking a steady stroll into the forest though the German Shepard still continued to bounce at the blonde. "Champ. Stop you tool. I want some food just cooperate for once please boy?" He cooed, but the beast did not so much as acknowledge his pleas.

They continued to the far side of the lake where the elk herds usually came to drink and rest. Ace was correct as he knew the surroundings all too well and sure enough the creatures lingered on the waters edge. He pulled his body into the cover of the bushes and slowly drew Sophia (his bow) and pulled back to create what seemed like a strong and perfectly drawn shot. In fact a smile grew on his lips as he released, sending the arrow racing towards a small female elk.

Yet it only just punctured the shoulder.

The group of animals scattered, crying loudly while Ace himself also began letting out a low and noisy groan. Suddenly a horrible feeling rolled in his stomach that was just all too familiar to Ace, the feeling of failure. The blonde sank to his knees with his hands behind his head, trying to make the cogs in his brain work out what he had faulted to cause the miss. He did not know. He never knew. In fact Ace thought using his bow to hunt was one of his biggest strengths. Had he once again proven himself wrong?

Champ had vanished elsewhere during this moment, but soon came back with the Elk in his jaws, snarling loudly and clamping down on its throat to try and suffocate. The creature had been wounded enough for him to pull it down, but still the dog was not quite strong enough to end its life. He pulled the struggling meal to his masters self pitying body and began nudging at his lap with his bloody snout.

"Good boy Champ." Ace said in a rather monotone voice as he put the female Elk out of its misery with a slit across the neck. He then just sat back against the trunk of a tree, staring absently across the rivers surface.

Pathetic. A dog can do a better job than you.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Owsla Hall
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Owsla Hall

Water. Wether it be the sea or a lake like this, it is were all life once came from. Civilizations spring up around the water and now a neco finds peace by said lake. Owsla peered her head up from under the surface, feeling the life-giving liquid flow freely down her face and out of her ears. But what fill them back up as the sound of gun fire. An all too familiar sound that didn't make her flinch, but put a maddened grin on her face.

She swam up to shore, shaking herself dry as she spied her father fast asleep on the bag as she put her clothes back on. "Sorry Papa, But I have some foraging to do" she said as she trotted off toward the sound of where the gunfire had come from. At first she walked as she watched the tree tops and passing a river along the way, knowing sometimes bandits liked to hide up there. Soon it was a trot once out of the tree line, only stopping to look out over the abandoned and war-torn village. It gave her chills just looking at it. Memories of a life that had run from and days where the name of the game was "kill for sport, not to survive"

"Zanuks. Online." Two words made her buckle to her knees as a green skin started to form from her back and spread over her body like someone was pouring molasses over her body. She contorted and writhed in what looked like pain, but was laughing. Loudly. Laughing loud enough for it to be heard across the field for some time. As the skin solidified, large boxes that looked either like storage or weapons rose up on her shoulder. The body of the armor still looked vaguely human as she stood on all fours; her face completely covered and looked more like another creature than human anymore.

There was a beeping and soon it was blended into the surrounding environment. Nearly completely invisible aside from a few ripples in the area where it was and yellow lights where the eyes where. It jolted down toward the village, only a dust cloud being seen behind her.

The buildings came quickly, stopping her running only resulting in her skidding in the ground and leaving marks before correcting herself back on her "feet". Her footsteps where near silent. The crunch of rocks being pushed aside and soft metal under foot as she wandered about.

The smell of wet iron, that unmistakable smell of blood nuzzled itself in her nose as she wandered about. Soon witnessing the bodies of people. Guns and bullet shells everywhere. A growl rose from her as if she were saying something, quickly setting uppon the corpses and taking anything she could take. Fading back into vision, the "creature" trotted from body to body as if hoping to find anything of use.

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Character Portrait: Ember Wolfe
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Ember Wolfe

Vacation time? Ember sighed, and closed her eyes, moving her feet mechanically. What am I to do? She ran a hand through her hair and found that she could not pull her fingers through so easily. She stopped walking and scowled as she untangled her hair. It's too long. It's a distraction. I should cut it. Yet, she knew that she would not be able to cut her hair. It was something she hated, as she could not find any logical reason to keep her hair so long. I need to cut it. She pulled up her mental map of the area, something she had memorized before making contact with the fake therapist, and found a lake nearby.

Ember changed her direction instantly. I get to the lake and cut my hair, and then- She blinked, fully comprehending what she had just nearly walked pass. It was cow elk. It appeared to have been shot by a hunter (An inexperienced hunter at that) and bled out after running away. Ember crouched down to pull out the arrow. "Hmmm..." The sight of the arrow tickled a memory, but she made no effort to remember where she may have seen this type of arrow and discarded it quickly. She then resumed her trek to the Lake, although her face showed no signs of what she thought about the dead elk.

Several minutes of walking pass her by...

And when she came upon the Lake, the first thing that registered in her mind, was that it was blinding. Using her hand, she shaded her eyes. Your not supposed to do that! A thought, no, an instinct screamed at her that there may have been enemies using the Lake's brilliance to blind her. The sudden instinct, conjured a long forgotten memory....

"Pipsqueak!" Ember felt herself being tackled from the side, and landing so roughly on the forest floor. Then... the sound of falling earth. She sat up, shoving her brother away from her. "You didn't have to tackle me." She rubbed her shoulder, and realized that where she had stood seconds ago was a pit. At the bottom were spikes. She shuddered. "And don't call me pipsqueak!" "Well if you had been paying attention in class you would know that you're not supposed to do that!" Her brother stood up and glared down at her. Ember glowered, "Well if you hadn't gone snooping about in the headmaster's office, and had me guard the door -in the middle of the night I may add- I would have been paying attention in class instead of sleeping!" She threw a pebble at her brother's head, and that ended their conversation.

Your not supposed to do that! The instinct turned into her brother shout, and her body locked up. It took her some time to gather herself back up and moved forward, to the Lake.

Ember sat down on her knees and looked down at her reflection. Her face, still as beautiful, and her hair... So different. It was longer now, nearly touching the ground in her current position, and it was thicker then before. "Seems cryo sleep can slow down the aging process but not hair growth." She pulled out a dagger, and gathering up her hair in a pony tail was about to cut it when... Her arm shook, and she dropped the dagger. "What the hell! Why can't I just cut it!" She shouted, and in response her armor began to crackle with energy.

The anger at herself, brought her back to life. The anger also, without any outlet, caused her to act out. Ember yanked out her energy sword and slashed at her reflection. Water droplets went flying, and Ember herself seemed to be fighting for control over her anger.

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Character Portrait: Shiro Byakuya Character Portrait: Weiss Byakuya
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Weiss and Shiro Byakuya reached the village about fifteen minutes after William had taken care of the 'bandits,' but they didn't just stroll right in.They could hear the gunfire from miles away, and when they arrived Weiss saw some of the corpses.
Humans. He thought, or they wouldn't have died so easily. Still, who had killed them? He turned and looked at Shiro out of the corner of his eye.
"Shiro. Hidari o mite." (Shiro. Watch the left.) He had his shoulder against a cracked and crumbling wall on his right.
"H-hai." (O-Okay.)+ She responded.
Weiss peeked around the corner, seeing no one despite a clear view of about 80% of the village. He squinted his eyes. They're in a building? He questioned silently. He suddenly had an idea. "Shiro, go check in the buildings, I'm going to look around the village. Ne?"
Shiro looked at him with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth, before nodding once. She stalked off to the closest building and rapped her knuckles on it twice. "Konnichi wa! Dareka ie ni imasu ka?" (Hello! Anybody home? [Not exact translation, but would be used as this])
Weiss had situated himself on the roof of a building, handgun in hand, watching his sister. He figured whoever the Neco that killed these humans was, he wouldn't harm an unarmed girl... Or atleast Weiss was willing to bet on it.

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Character Portrait: Shiro Byakuya Character Portrait: William Abrams Character Portrait: Owsla Hall
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Of all the things William had made, never had he been so infatuated as he was with the Alexander armor. Was it because it would be one of the single greatest weapons when it was perfected? Or was it because nothing had stumped him so hard as this one thing had. You see, developing the world's mos reliable weapons over the course of his life, he never had issues with his technology. Things went exactly as he planned, according to his theories, and were finished well before the deadline. That's why he was always given more than enough money, resources, and personnel to work with. Yet.... this armor did not want to abide by those 'laws' that had been set. No, he was given hassle he was never used to, and though it obviously irritated him, in a way, it even thrilled him and entertained him, even if he might not be aware of this.

William had long ago figured and implemented a way to make a set of armor with the durability of a tank, and one entirely resistant to electro-magnetic pulses as well, In fact, the ones who had contracted him to make such a weapon were satisfied with just the prototype. Because even if it worked in short burts, a whole platoon or even a squad of these suits, whether under control by a Neco or a Sapien, could cause massive damage to enemies without proper countermeasures.

But William was not satisfied.

Abrams weapons were always reliable. While some competitors might have been able to boast about stability or some other attribute of the gun that was barely better than an Abrams weapon, non could make a gun or piece of equipment that was more reliable. And on the battlefield, you did not want something unreliable. A pistol is infinitely better than a sniper rifle at long range if the sniper rifle cannot fire while the pistol can. With Abrams, you would have to go out of your way to harm the weapon and stop it from firing. Jamming, locking, and other problems just weren't with Abrams, and it's because William made sure that was the case. So, when he made a weapon that did not work as he intended - reliably - he refused to part with it. It simply was not finished and it would not be without some dedicated time in his lab. Well, shit hit the fan in the world and then there was explosions that sorta kinda killed off most of civilization, and made it harder to obtain the required materials as reliably as he'd once gotten. Plus, his contractors were obliterated, but that did nothing to hinder William, and in fact made it easier since he did not have people breathing down his neck about it. But essentially, he would not part or stop with the Alexander until it was his idea of perfect, and it most certainly was not.

William Abrams was checking the Pocket and was glad to see there was no complications with it. If the device computed the math inputted into it wrong due to a bug, he could lose everything in it, which would be hassling. At least the Alexander had a static protocol that he remembered in his head, so no matter what he wouldn't lost that. But, well, the Pocket was very convenient. This small device was of his own creation, and it had been sold, although it was never mass-produced. He remembered giving it to the Bantons, a Neco family renowned for their skills and savagery with the blade. They often purchased most of the close-range weaponry that the Abrams produced and tested it in live combat scenarios as a way to afford the first versions of it. Alexander might've actually been the best possible thing to give to that family. At least, it'd help a lot with the whole range issues a sword had.

Thinking back, that book-sized Pocket was very bulky, wasn't it? Why was I adamant it be shaped like a cube? Ha, what a peasant's mistake...

*Rustle... rustlerustle....*

"Hmm... ?"

There was a very soft, yet distinct sound in the distance that caught William's attention as he reminisced to himself about his old designs of the Pocket. Had he someone around to distract him, perhaps this would've gone unnoticed, but considering he should have been alone with nothing but the deceased bodies of those men he'd killed, it was loud enough to be noticed. William did the obvious thing in this situation and equipped his pistol, making sure that it was both loaded and the safety was not in the way. Afterwards, he proceeded out what had been the door of the building, back when it had seen better days. Stepping over the small pile of rubble, he scanned the area.

"Konnichi wa! Dareka ie ni imasu ka?" came a voice from a few destroyed buildings over.

Is that.... Japanese?

Although he was unsure as to why someone foreign was all the way out here, he did not particularly care about that. It was more important to focus on what they wanted, and if they would make him waste another bullet. "I don't speak Japanese." he replied to the voice coming from what appeared to be a young girl that was a few years older, pointing his pistol right at her. Father always did handle foreign affairs, after all. "You and..." he nudged his head over towards one of the dead bodies, where he'd heard the rustling from earlier, "...had best come out. I don't have the will or patience to deal with more rabble." He did not know how many people had come here, but he did know there were two at the very least. If he hadn't heard that rustling, he might've been inclined to believe otherwise, but only if this small girl turned out to be hostile as well. The weak do not survive out here for long without reason, and the only feasible explanation was that she used her looks to deceive and murder, or that someone was protecting her.

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Character Portrait: Akira Theron Character Portrait: June King
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Akira Theron




After a long while that seemed like a pleasant short amount of time to Akira, she pulled her body up off the ground before saying her farewells to Asher. Once again the dark haired woman kicked her boots at the ground while speaking, as though having a awkward conversation with a crush that you had not seen in a few weeks. Her usual cocky grin fell into something a little more soft as she spoke to the engraved oak tree. "See you later handsome." With that she turned on heel before heading her way out towards the city, dipping a hand into her back to feel for the small amount of money in the bottom.

***

As she entered the city she pulled up the hood of her clothing up over her hair to hide her face. She knew that this city was a secret place wear many Necos and Sapiens lived in harmony, just as her old village had done in the past but it was still very clear who was the dominant race here. It was kind of odd to see a woman walk down this narrow streets, lean legs and chest area bared suggestively yet her identity hidden. It was clear that someone with a knowing eye could still work out she was nutrient, but mostly she did this to try and keep herself out of trouble and to avoid eye contact with any untrustworthy Necos.

Restaurants and bars seemed to be the main bring in of money here, yet there were still a few shops here and there that sold essentials. Akira slipped in and out of the store as quickly as possible, buying a few more nutriant pills and energy bars that looked a little more tasty than the usual medication. She also decided to take home a precious little thing called a Rena flower, that was blue in colour and also very beautiful. It sat proudly in a small plant pot, the roots sticking out of the bottom as though it itched to spread and grow. She had bought it with the idea of planting it around Ashers grave, but was now questioning if he would in fact admire a simple flower.

With the remaining change in her bag she decided that treating herself would not be so much of a bad idea and so found herself stumbling into a restaurant and pub cross that smelt strongly of good food and alcohol. Tucking the plant pot under her feet she took a seat at a table where the least people occupied apart from a male with a similar shade of hair to her own patted his fingers along some device with a intense expression. Akira observed him some more, eyes sharply narrowing as she seemed to soak up his appreance. Something about him bothered her more than it should have done in a area like this. Sapien or Neco? The woman could not quite put a finger on his race.

"How may I help you Miss?" The waiter questioned, causing Akira to clumsily stumble out of her rather rude glaring and fall back into reality. "O..oh! Um sorry! Just a glass of red wine please. Thank you sunshine." She told him, voice polite yet lazy and seductive. As she drummed her fingernails upon the table waiting for her drink, her thoughts flickered back and forth from the blue Rena flower and the man sat to the table to the right of her.

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Character Portrait: Shiro Byakuya Character Portrait: William Abrams Character Portrait: Owsla Hall
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Owsla Hall

The Creature rummaged through the bodies, growling in an irritated tone as it flipped a corpse over as if angry that it couldn't find anything of use. It was fully visible now, albeit stalking around and looking in windows before it perked up at something. A voice speaking in a language that it didn't understand and another that was clear as day. Both unfamiliar, but promising as it had not seen other people besides the larger of the pair. It ducked into a near falling apart building and laid on the before snarling again. Soon it began writhing in what looked like pain.

The green "skin" started to reside, showing Neco flesh rather than than that of a cloaking creature. Owsla bit her lip as she could feel some of her hair being pulled along with the skin, trying not to help in pain. Soon the skin was nothing more than a a small pack on her back and she had returned to her normal, upright standing position. "That thing needs to be fixed when we can find some paaaaarrrttts~" She said, half yawning as the sound of her back cracking echoed through the decrepit building.

she ran her hands through her braids, counting them to make sure none of them had been pulled out by the suit before peering her head out of the doorway. Her blue eye and yellow glowing eye patch focused on two people. Both of them registering as Necos in her mind, the girl she had never seen before. She raised a brow, noting how...soft she looked. Most other female neco she met were usually battle-hardened from the war. This one seemed less effected than most as a nicer way of putting it.

The male however, the gold hair stood out to her like the last piece of candy in a bowl. She remembered a man with golden hair that had showed her kindness in the past. It instantly put a smile on her face to say the least. Last I remember I was in a cabin in the woods somewhere. Wonder if he's moved out of it? she sauntered out from her hiding spot behind him and smiled, purring loudly like a large wild cat. "Goldie! It's been so long! I thought you were still stuck in the woods after that blizzard!" she exclaimed as she attempted to hug him around the waist.

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Character Portrait: Shiro Byakuya Character Portrait: Weiss Byakuya Character Portrait: William Abrams Character Portrait: Owsla Hall
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Shiro turned with a start at the voice, and her eyes widened and her expression showed fear when the man pointed his gun at her. The man with the gun was speaking English. This was to be expected, they were in what used to be America after all, and she understood English perfectly well. She just couldn't speak it well. She instantly seemed to close herself, becoming shy and nervous.

Weiss had observed this and right when Weiss was about to jump down to greet the blonde haired man, a third person, female joined them.

"Goldie! It's been so long! I thought you were still stuck in the woods after that blizzard!" She announced.

Kuso... That was unexpected. He thought to himself, cursing his luck. He then shrugged inwardly to himself and hopped down from the roof he had been hiding, landing softly in front of Shiro. It pleasured him that the blonde man had not noticed him up there, but he didn't plan on hiding.

"Listen, we're all Necos here, I'm not going to attempt to hurt you." Weiss said, showing that both his handgun and katana were holstered and sheathed, respectively. "I just had to confirm you were Neco." He continued, his gaze blank. He turned to look at Shiro, and whispered, "Arigato gozaimasu, Shiro."

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Character Portrait: Ember Wolfe Character Portrait: Ace Tyrant
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Ace Tyrant




After a while Ace managed to pull himself together about his failure and picked himself up off the ground with a seemingly new weight pressing down hard on his shoulders. You Ace Tyrant are not a survivor, you simply got lucky. A voice bellowed coldly inside his own mind. Though he tried his best to ignore its words, it felt like his own hand had pushed a sword through his spine and exited the front of his chest.

Ace slung the elk carcass over his back and began to slowly make his way back to the homely cabin, now and again his legs buckling slightly under the weight, but he forced himself to continue on as he knew he had managed time and time again over these lonely years. Champ trotted at a steady speed ahead of him, happily exploring this familiar world and all its horrors. The black beast weaved with ease inbetween the thin trees and over the roots. He seemed pleasant and gentle until he heard the foreign angry cry of another Neco.

"What the hell! Why can't I just cut it!"


"Champ...Champ down. Quiet." Ace demanded the canine in a low voice yet he knew the animal was way too prideful to obey such cowardly orders and so he began loudly barking and pouncing off in the direction of the voice which was back towards the lake. The German Shepard came upon the woman before Ace was even in sight. Champ bared his fangs angrily along with lifting his tail, appearing a lot less friendly than he did when helping his master hunt. "WAIT." The blonde male demanded once more, now in a more urgent and desperate tone, halting the dog just before he leapt for this woman's throat.

The man stumbled out into the open, dropping the dead elk onto the grass with a heavy grunt. It was clear carrying it had been a lot of strain upon his back. He lifted his eyes to the female ahead of him he recoiled backwards on sight of her large sword, shocking with energy; his expression fell into clear fear. She can kill you. She could kill you with ease Ace Tyrant. The voice hissed inside his mind once again, though this time he took it as fact rather than degrading suggestion. Champ stood ahead of his master in a protective posture, still snarling quietly.

"Sorry Miss. He just is rather curious." Ace laughed nervously, putting up his hands as though to surrender to her. It was at that point where the blonde male began to observe her more closely, he instantly noted that she was rather beautiful and did not look like someone who should be wielding a weapon of such mass destruction. Something then ticked inside his mind, a familiar shard of memory from the past. He opened his mouth as though to speak, before holding his tongue and closing his jaws again.

He was unsure but still he had to ask. "Ember?..."

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Character Portrait: Ember Wolfe Character Portrait: Ace Tyrant
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Ember Wolfe

Her blood burned with her rage, and, of course, a problem had to occur when she was at her most dangerous state. Ember tensed, twisted and was on her feet in seconds with her energy sword held loosely at her side. Champ bared his fangs angrily along with lifting his tail, appearing a lot less friendly than he did when helping his master hunt. "WAIT." The blonde male demanded once more, now in a more urgent and desperate tone, halting the dog just before he leapt for this woman's throat. Ember was disappointed by this, and was able to use the feeling to suppress the rage, so instead of killing both the dog and it's master, she waited.

"Sorry Miss. He just is rather curious." Ace laughed nervously, putting up his hands as though to surrender to her. Ember saw the fear and... something akin to recognition. She looked through her memory, and found no memory of the stranger before her... Unless...

He was unsure but still he had to ask. "Ember?..."

Ember bowed her head and blinked, but other then this, showed no emotion. "Yes, Ace?" Her words were dead, tired and just bitter. Bitter because only ten seconds earlier, she was on the verge of losing the control she had on her rage and could have so easily killed Ace. The thought that she could kill someone so helpless made her angry at herself. Don't let your emotions make your decisions. The mantra filled her head, and the dangerous buzz of flowing electricity stopped.

Ember looked up and instead of watching Ace, she was watching the dog. Even now, she could not ingore the training her commanders ingrained in her. Never take your eyes off your enemy. The dog may be Ace's friend but she could not fight her nature, if the dog lunged at her, she'd have no choice to kill him. I'm such a despicable creature.

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Character Portrait: Ember Wolfe Character Portrait: Ace Tyrant Character Portrait: Oreron Hall
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Oreron Hall

As sweet as slumber was and the pleasent dreams of the well rested, all good things must come to an end as the large male stirred from his dormancy. His eyes scanned his surroundings with haste as he noted one thing. Owsla was no where to be seen. He shot up looking around further in a panic looking at the trees before spying a mark in one of the trees, one that made him calm down instantly. "Foraging. Alright, so she'll be gone for a while." He whispered to himself, unwinding himself from his worries.

The lake was as calm as it was before he slept, mirror like and peaceful. For a moment, he thought that for once today was going to be a nice quiet day and nothing was going to happen.

However those thoughts were quickly dashed by the cry of an angry woman and the crassness of a dog's barking far to his left. His eye twitched, greatly annoyed that he was ripped out of his clubby thoughts. He growled loudly, the barking reminding him of the warhounds of he tangled with in the past. He reared himself on his legs, looking toward the now two necos in the distance and let loose a loud, bellowing roar. "CAN'T I GET SOME KIND OF PEACE HERE?!" he bellowed, bearing his jagged teeth and sounding more like the general that he was years ago.

He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself down as he plopped back down on his side watching as the dog stood in front of his master. Now that he thought about it, both of them looked awfully familiar. The male looking more like a very scrawny neco or a hybrid of Neco and Sapien. Odd, but not unheard of. The female however, he swore that he knew her from somewhere. He tilted his head to the side watching them as she very slowly started his was toward them, making sure not to either scare them off or have them attack him. Or at the very least not have the canine attack him.

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Character Portrait: Shiro Byakuya Character Portrait: Weiss Byakuya Character Portrait: William Abrams Character Portrait: Owsla Hall
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Many positive things had been said about William over the course of his life that shaped him to have the personality he did now. Things like 'You're the best', 'Genius', 'Brilliant', 'Awesome', and the sort had given him a very good impression of himself. He did not lack in self-esteem, he was very assertive, and he prided himself on being everyone's better. Blame the cruel, odd way he grew up that prevented him from having too much compassion as well as too much self-loathing.

But I digress. The important thing is that you know that William thought himself better than everyone else. Nobody else made the kinds of items and weapons he did. Nobody else constantly provided the dogs of war with reliable weapons. And certainly, nobody had even come close to engineering a suit that could single-handily take down hundreds in the right conditions. Yes, he was so brilliant that he blessed the very presence of those he was around, and the ground he walked on. He would say he was God's gift to mankind, but he didn't believe in God, and even if he did, he'd think he was God's better. His narcissism was one of his most defining traits, and it effected just about everything he did.

His reactions, for example.

William had been careless. He had assumed whatever it had been rummaging through the bodies he'd created would still be over there, and that was an assumption he shouldn't have made. It was only the purr that managed to give the person away, and that was much too late to effectively counter the attack being thrown at him. William cursed himself for falling for exactly the same tactic he'd flawlessly avoided with these bandits just minutes ago and nearly resigned to his fate.

.........
......
...

*Press*

He was grabbed around the waist from behind, a certain feeling betraying that it was a female who did so. Not that that was particularly necessary, as she shouted something as her grip found him. Had the words she spoken not shocked him for a brief moment, he might've been able to use his experience as a playboy to give himself a rough equivalent of size, even through whatever fabric was pressed between him and those. Yet, this was not to be, as she'd said something that he could not just forget or allow to pass by without proper retaliation.

"Goldie! It's been so long! I thought you were still stuck in the woods after that blizzard!"

...What did she say... ?

Around that time, a man had appeared from the rooftops. He looked very similar to the Japanese-speaking women before him. He spoke about him not meaning harm 'evidenced' by the fact his weapons weren't at the ready. A Katana and a holstered pistol. By the basic frame, Abrams could tell that it was one of his, but he wasn't sure the model and wouldn't be until he could get a better glimpse.

By the unconscious looks both of these people were giving, the one behind him wasn't with them. He wanted to keep his cool at the moment, he really did. But some things people just can't let go. While the woman, whoever she was, behind him had not attacked his life, that 'name' attacked his pride. His very being. And that was much worse than his life being threatened. He could not forgive it. And so, his venom was known to all around, as he managed to get himself out of the abnormally strong grip she had somehow. He turned to face all three of the strangers and noticed that the attacker was actually a bit taller than him. With that fact alone he could gather she was a Neco -- Sapiens weren't that intimidating in stature, especially not females. But, again, none of that mattered. He was angered, and this woman had done the angering. She was lucky he did not just murder people when he was angry. "...Who gave you permission to place your hands on me, heathen?" he shot Owsla a very nasty glare, but kept his gun pointed down for now. His pride made it impossible for him to fear anything at the moment. "I will not tolerate disrespect of that magnitude, especially from some animal! Why would I, heir to Abrams Industries, even consider living in a shamble in the middle of the woods? I did not think it impossible for someone to use their head to even that extent." he was in the mood to even verbally acknowledge the other two right now. He just knew that people invading his personal space and then having the audacity to call him 'Goldie' obviously needed to be taught a lesson in manners.

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Character Portrait: Shiro Byakuya Character Portrait: Weiss Byakuya Character Portrait: William Abrams Character Portrait: Owsla Hall
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Owsla Hall

If it wasn't for the the fact that she knew that her "Goldie" was not as strong as to get out of her grip, she would have held on the the man for much longer and nuzzled his back. However, the verbal beating she recived from this 'heir to Abram Industries' guy made her stand stright up again. She noted that she was a tad taller than him, albeit it didn't stop him from calling her a heathen and an animal. The latter she was used to from years of being on her own. The former, However, made her yellow eye glow with a mix of annoyance and anger.

"Now Listen here you gold-haired pissant! Just because I mistook you for someone I know doesn't mean can go around and callin' people that ya prick!" She snarled, her teeth looking more like a mix of a shark and a large cat. "And what do you mean 'heir to Abrams Industries'? Ya somekinda headhunta or solida? Ya look like someone fatha would know or have fought with anyway or the spoiled brat of someone who worked with him." she mouthed off, getting ever closer to his face until he was nearly nose to nose with him. She snorted a breath and hissed softly before pulling away, knowing she was about to plug her fist into his face in an instant.

She walked backwards away from him and held out her arm, letting a green skin form over it and her hand; making it look like a hoof-hand hybrid of obivious mechanical origin. Even if it did look oddly organic. A hologram faded into view and quickly glitched out on her causing her to mutter in frustration and quickly turn on her heel away from him and the other two.

Her head perked up slightly as she looked back but at the other white haired pair. "You two. There's a lake in the forest just at the top of that hill. Follow the gashes in the trees and you'll get there without getting lost. If you see a man that looks more like a bear than Neco, you're at the right place." Her tone was stern, but not intending to fighten as she rattled her arm again to keep the hologram from glitching into static. If the day didn't get any more frustrating, she would have gladly left by now if it wasn't for the feeling she would be followed by this jackass.

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Character Portrait: Akira Theron Character Portrait: June King
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#, as written by Damioa
June King


June played around with the hand computer, trying to get as much information about his target as he could. From experience, it was always good to know about a person before killing them. There was just something about it, taking a mans life. Something he didn't get at first. Well, he wouldn't even call his targets men, seeing as they were criminals who just seemed to slip through the cracks. June was no cop, but he certainly wasn't above killing foul people for money. Heck, he'd probably do it for free if the occassion was different. It was then when he though of his first time taking a life, not out of fear or anger, but just because.

It just so happened that a few years back, June wasn't the type of person to eat, sleep, or move from one area to the next without being forced to. Who could blame him? He had lost everything and life was crashing down hard and fast. Too much for one man to bare. On top of that, he was imprisoned for defending himself and charged with two different murders. Though, for the family names sake, they were able to change the names of the people who he had supposedly slaughtered, though it made no difference. It was all a bunch of conspiracy. Lies and enough fake evidence to frame the most innocent of men. Unluckily for June, he wasn't even close to being innocent, but he still didn't believe he should have gotten charged with the crime. Not that it mattered now that all was said and done, but for sixteen year old June, it was the end of his current life and the start of his new one, even if he didn't know it yet.

Javier Cortez. It wasn't the easiest name to remember, but it's one June could never forget. His first cell mate, a man who seemed to enjoy the finer things out of life, even going so far as to find a light in the darkness of incarceration. He was always smiling for some reason, which pissed June off a lot. Though, the younger him didn't do anything about since it wasn't worth it. However, when the man would ramble on and on about his family and how he would see them again when he got out, June would just simply glare at him, only to be ignored by laughter and more talking. Yes, the man was very peculiar indeed. He'd even go as far as to staying up with June when the boy didn't want to sleep, calling himself a provider of company and soon June became accustomed to this. The boy even found himself awaiting for the man to come back to the cell so that he could tell a story or something that would block out the silence. Truth be told, the man was the closest thing June had to call entertainment. A human radio.

One night, June had to walk himself from the psych ward back to his cell. That was the only place he would walk from, seeing as he hated it more than anything else the prison had to offer him. Sadly, the worst case scenario happened and the boy was cornered by three men, two of them twice his size and the last one small and lanky. Apparently, they didn't like his name very much, or the crimes he was charged with. Said that he and his family were nothing, but scum. It wasn't his fault though. How could June possibly be responsible for what his family does, he hasn't even seen most of them. The only person from his extended side he had seen was his two cousins and his grandfather and two of those people just happened to be dead at the time.

The men didn't seem to care. They were just looking for an unsuspecting person to beat on, it could have been Jesus himself and they wouldn't care. Animals, all of them were. Of course it also didn't help that June hadn't spoken a word since they stepped into his presence which seemed to infuriate one of them to the point of punching him, knocking him to the floor in the process. The beating became so intense that, before he knew it, his eye was busted and his nose was bleeding. He would have defended himself, though the fact that his life was basically over anyway caused him to just let them hit on him. He really wanted to die.

That was when Cortez came. His moves were so shocking. Never before had June seen anyone fight that way, or move that way. Cortez ended up killing the two men in the process, though with fast and precise movements. It was then that he went to June and looked the boy straight in his eyes. While June looked in his, he could see something that wasn't Sapien or Neco. Something that wasn't even human, but on a whole different scale. A full fledged warrior. One who, like him, was born to die in this world of hate and suffering. It was from then on that the boy began to become a man. Never again, did he just through his life away. Never again did he spare his enemies.

"Sir....Sir."

June was startled by the sudden words of the waitor returning with his food. "Yeah," he said slowly, "thanks for the food."

"You're very welcome sir."

As the man walked away to a different table, he saw a person at the other table, who was dressed in a strange manor. Strange for this city at least. His glance was relaxed, but still showed some signs of a glare. He tried to analyze why a person would come to a city like this dressed like that. Of course he had only one answer in mind, right or wrong. It was apparent to him that this person was also a hunter of some sort. Maybe hunting the man he was going after or June himself. Either way, June couldn't let a person take his prize.

As the waiter went to him and asked for his money, June paid for his plate and also the mysterious persons, just so they wouldn't leave yet. The waiter looked at the man curiously, but in the end he managed to smile and take the money. June looked over to the strange person. He stared hard enough to get the persons attention. Basically, he stayed staring until they lifted their head. Once they did, June walked over to the persons table, which was actually next to his. Casually sitting down, he took out a cigarette and placed it in his mouth. With all the money he had just given the waitor, it was unlikely for him to bother him just for a simple smoke.

"So. What is a person like you doing in a city like this?" His question was odd, but most of the time, if he asked a random stranger that question, he'd get his answer. If it was nothing, he'd just simply walked away, not saying another word. Though, most of the time, when a person looked this much like a hunter, they usually were. The only thing to find out after that, was how far to go in order to get them off your case.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Shiro Byakuya Character Portrait: Weiss Byakuya Character Portrait: William Abrams Character Portrait: Owsla Hall
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You could tell a lot about what a person was feeling, or about the person's manner, just by their body language. For instance, Weiss always stood straight up, making him appear quite tall, with his arms at his side in an almost military-like stance. He'd look straight ahead with a slight smile on his face, as if he were plotting something, or found something amusing. He'd carry himself with a look of confidence that made most people in the cities scared to approach him. This was his normal demeanor, and how he was right now.

But when the woman told them to go somewhere, and gave him directions, he bristled. His whole body seemed to tense up. "I do not, and will not take orders from you." He said simply. He looked up and down the girl and turned away from her with a look of utter disinterest.

Then something clicked in his mind. He had heard the man say it, but didn't think much of it, until subconsciously he recalled it.
"Why would I, heir to Abrams Industries, even consider living in a shamble in the middle of the woods?"
"I, heir to Abrams Industries,"

He squinted his eyes and held his hand out to the side. Shiro noticed this and pulled a small device out of her pocket and put it in Weiss's hand. He began to tap on it, as it was a smart phone of sorts. After a few seconds he looked up from it, a dark expression on his face. "I thought so...

"William Abrams, of Abrams Industries. An arms producing company, and perhaps one of the biggest and well known, as they supplied the most weapons to the military in the war." His hand started opening and closing, tensely, as if he wanted to draw his sword but was holding himself back. "I'm not sure whether I should hate you and be disgusted with you, or just not care about you at all.

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Character Portrait: Shiro Byakuya Character Portrait: Weiss Byakuya Character Portrait: William Abrams Character Portrait: Owsla Hall
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"And what do you mean 'heir to Abrams Industries'? Ya somekinda headhunta or solida? Ya look like someone fatha would know or have fought with anyway or the spoiled brat of someone who worked with him."

What was wrong with people these days? Why, sure, you there was no possible way to be as brilliant as the one, and the only, William Abrams, but still.... to not know of the Abrams, or their worth in the world, even after it was mostly destroyed was something only someone who lived under a rock could do. It sickened him knowing people were reduced to such a low state of being. Granted, they weren't that high up to begin with, yet to sink that low, you might as well be a bug or vermin. And that's exactly what he thought of those kinds of people. More than anything, rather than making him angry, it simply disgusted him due to the lack of knowledge. How were uneducated people surviving in this cruel world? Lady Luck must be smiling upon them these days, is all William could figure.

As the beastlike-yet-womanish figure backed off, she'd begun forming some form of armor on her hand. His interest piqued, he raised his eyebrow briefly, but the interest dropped immediately when he remembered that she wouldn't have an answer to his problem. She did not seem bright in most regards, public, or academic. If he had to honestly guess without any annoyance in her touching him get in the way, the fact that she managed to sneak up on him, and he appearance, he'd wager she was someone who was more accustomed to a primitive way of living. And this thought was more or less confirmed when she spoke to the other two.

"I do not, and will not take orders from you."

For some reason or another, William's mood improved immensely. He contained his desire to let out a small chuckle when seeing the response towards the woman, but couldn't hide the smile. That silly woman assuming she was worthy of ordering people around! Why, the only one who should be giving out orders was, of course, himself. But he had no workshop and no use of employees right now, so there was no point in wasting his breath. William preferred when he could do things himself anyway.

"William Abrams, of Abrams Industries. An arms producing company, and perhaps one of the biggest and well known, as they supplied the most weapons to the military in the war." William turned to face the man who seemed to know exactly who he was. The man's hand was tense and quite obvious with its motions, so that didn't go unnoticed. "I'm not sure whether I should hate you and be disgusted with you, or just not care about you at all."

To this, William gave a bit of a hearty laugh. "Fwaha! So it seems some people are aware of who I am! Good, good! It pleases me to see that not everyone still managing to survive lives under a rock! But..." his smiled dropped immediately, a bit of a colder expression replacing it. ".... I do not care in the slightest what you think about me. Nor anybody. People tend to despise me for a number of petty reasons. Because my weapons killed someone they love. Because I succeeded and they failed. Because our family allowed both sides of the war to purchase them." he continued, an mocking smile on his face. "Unless you have a genuine reason for thinking negatively of me, I won't waste my time."

His voice then turned towards the beast-woman. Now that he thought about it, something about her seemed very, very vaguely familiar. It was unfortunate that he could not place a finger on it, however. More importantly, she mentioned something about her father. Maybe her father was more civil. And, perhaps, her father might have the slightest clue as to whom attacked the Abrams. It was a long-shot, of course. But at the moment, the only real solid objective William had was finding a way to improve the Alexander, so it could be delayed in favor of a possible lead on his foe. He never fully believed it was just random bandits that stole his home. "You there. Woman. Do you have a name? Perhaps I have made dealings with your father before. I would like to meet him, assuming he is still living."

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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Shiro Byakuya Character Portrait: Weiss Byakuya Character Portrait: William Abrams Character Portrait: Owsla Hall
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Owsla Hall

Breathe in....

Breathe out...

Breathe in...

Breathe out...

If there was one way for someone to really piss off this daughter of war, it was to assume that she was dumber than she looked. The rage filled beast in her wanted to kill everyone here. The girl, this asshole that thought he was better than everyone here and the other white haired man. However, if she wanted to survive out here...she would have to keep her cool for much longer than she liked.

She imminently turned her head toward the white haired male, her eyes filled with an anger and annoyance only held back by sheer will. "That wasn't an order. I was giving you a tip, you twit." She said in an unnaturally calm tone. as if it was the calm before the storm as the hologram finally came up to clear view. She started moving around boxes filled with information, muttering things to herself as her eyes darted back and forth.

"Ah. There it is. Now I see the pattern." She said as the hologram was waved away, hunching over as she muttered in a much lower tone. It wasn't the fact that this person was here and she mistook him for someone else that made her angry. Oh no, she had done this many times before and got such a chilly response. It was the fact this this guy...this "William Abrams" thought of himself as better than others. She had a severe hatred for those kinds of people. City dwellers that lived soft and cushy lives and looked down their noses at her and her father. Thinking of her only as animals. Those were the kinds of people she took absolute joy in stealing from. Not taking their lives, but taking what they had and leaving them out in the cold afterwards. She could think of many vile things she could do to the man, but now was not the time to implement any of those at all.

Her head snapped at the mention of being called 'woman' turning her anger filled eyes into those of bearly restrained rage. "I do have a name. But since you know everything and I am nothing more than a heathen to you, then look this up: Hall." she snarled through her teeth as if keeping herself on a tight leash. "And before you ask. Yes, he lives to the chargin that many people nowadays."

The green skin started to spread slowly across her back and neck to her other arm as she started walking away. she looked back and the gold haired arrogant male before the rest of it covered her hair and race. "If you want to meet him after finding what I said. Remember the directions I gave them and follow them." and with that, the green skin started to over take her and force her to all fours very quickly. once completely covered she faded from view and a dust cloud appeared as well as "paw" prints. in the dirt, heading toward the forest. She was done here, but a dark little place in her mind knew that she wouldn't be done with this gold haired prima dona.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Shiro Byakuya Character Portrait: Weiss Byakuya Character Portrait: William Abrams Character Portrait: Owsla Hall
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"That wasn't an order. I was giving you a tip, you twit."

Weiss completely ignored her, as if he didn't hear her. Frankly, he didn't care about her nor have time to argue. He also thought it was petty that she had to insult him to get her point across, yet he said nothing...


"Unless you have a genuine reason for thinking negatively of me, I won't waste my time."

This time, Weiss sneered. "I suppose I don't have a genuine reason, according to you, and it's just petty reasoning. My father and mother were killed in the war, because you allowed the humans to buy your weapons." He said, spitting the word out as if it were an insult. "Because of that, my twin sister and I have lived as orphans for twelve long years, fending for ourselves in a corrupt and dangerous city. Of course, you don't care. Everyone has a sob story, why should it concern you." He squinted his eyes, "It's not like you care about others."

"Onii-sama, kyuusai nante iranai." Shiro said.

Weiss smiled at this and nodded at this. "Iie, we don't." He turned to his younger twin sister. "Arigato ne. Kite kudasai." And with that, the two of them began walking away from William.

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Character Portrait: Weiss Byakuya Character Portrait: William Abrams Character Portrait: Owsla Hall
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There was a great deal many things he could have retorted with. The white-haired man should have at least taken the side of the pacifist, as that wasn't blatantly hypocritical. But instead, he took the side of the racist, and that did happen to irritate William if only a little. This line in particular revealed all of the man's hypocrisy and racism, without any need to think too hard about it.

"My father and mother were killed in the war, because you allowed the humans to buy your weapons."

It was always expected that when you were a part of a weapons industry, you would take some of the blame for someone's death, or some military-related incident. That's not to say it ever made much sense to William or his family, but it was expected. People always had this habit of finding someone to blame for something, and when it came to weapon-related deaths, the people who made that particular weapon were always second-in-line, behind the murderer, for the blame. And when people couldn't find the murderer, or they just needed more blame to be pushed around? They went right to the source of the weapon. On multiple occasions, across the long time that the Abrams had been making weapons, they either received hate-mail or assassination attempts for their work. This never discouraged them, and it obviously hadn't resulted in William's death, either. What it did do, was allow William to completely realize his stance on this particular subject. His stance was this; Guns don't kill people. People kill people. Certainly wasn't original, but it did not have to be. He wanted to continue making the best weapons, and if anyone really wanted to stop him, they'd be better off getting rid of the reason for weapons: war. But the digression ends here. There's something important to point out.

While the end result of him being blamed for deaths was always constant, the justification was not. You had people who simply didn't like the idea of a job where you made things that harmed people, the pacifists, and you also had the people who were just looking to blame someone for their loved one's deaths, the 'idiots', as William called them. At least he could understand the pacifists. The so-called idiots were just beyond him, however. He didn't like how they would always seem to accuse him of being selfish while not even trying to hide their hypocrisy, and this man here today was one of those people. He accused William of his parent's murder because the Abrams sold to both races, not just one. It wasn't the fact he sold weapons, it was the fact he sold weapons to the opposing side. How racist and shallow. William couldn't really deny being only concerned with himself, but at least he was open about it. But this man was nothing more than a racist, and it did sicken William.

Fortunately, however, this man wasn't anything special. He was one of many, and the only thing that separated him from the many others that Abrams encountered before was the fact he was certainly alive as of right now. So, William did not visibly show anything more than a smirk as the man turned around. He could've definitely brought up the man's hypocrisy right then and there, but that'd be more work than it was worth. He could do what he wanted and be racist somewhere else, and hopefully, his parents were just as racist as he was, otherwise they'd have been disappointed. And, unlike William, it would seem he actually cared what his parents thought of him, since he could emotional over their deaths. But again, William did not care much for needless chatter. There was something much, much more important he should look into, and he planned on doing so. So, without so much as a word, William started off in the direction the woman, Hall, had mentioned earlier.

"Hall?"

The name brought a very familiar feeling with it. Without further thought about the other man, William retrieved the Arcana and started the search. He found a name he recognized almost instantly.

General Oreron Hall of the Ivory Claws

Status: Deceased Confirmed living, MIA

Age: 38

Whereabouts: Last seen killing high-ranking members of of the Red Talon clan

By far the most famous, or infamous, Hall in the bloodline. Widely known as a man that was more bloodthirsty beast than Neco, he was well known for building tech that could rival that of the mass produced Abrams tech, some say he did in terms of his stealth armor. However, his real achievement was in the field, some stories saying he took on an entire army single handedly. It was thought that he died after being found with who seemed to be his wife in a sapien village by being mutilated, but reports have stated that he is indeed alive. The report that made everyone realize this was a video of him brutally killing members of his own clan, seemingly in retaliation of the woman he betrayed them for. This same style of murder was also reported that the clan of the mother of his daughter belonged to either disbanded due to the deaths of their highest ranking members or were killed off as well. It is advised to NOT APPROACHED at any cost.

Children: Owsla Hall (Very Recently confirmed)


"Wait, what? What kind of propaganda is this? Tech that rivals mine? As if I could be matched, and by some beast too!" William grumbled to himself as he walked, obviously too prideful to let that part go. He took notice of the note at the bottom.

-------Children: Owsla Hall (Very Recently confirmed)

It seems that heathen has a first name as well. Although to think that that woman was the daughter of General Hall... Oh well, I ought to keep an eye on her. I haven't an immediate plans to perish until I have finished what I had started.

With more caution in his step than he previously had before, he continued following the directions that Owsla had given to the other two before, and was on his way to meet someone who had been dead at one point. What fun that should be.

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Character Portrait: Owsla Hall Character Portrait: Oreron Hall
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Owlsa Hall and Oreron Hall

At the edge of the forest, the speed of the girl in her armor stopped suddenly. Skidding to a halt once under cover of trees, the green skin resided again to a spot on her back and returned her to an upright position. However, the rage from earlier had not subsided at all. As soon as she was out of her armor, she roared in a frenzy and slashed her arm spears into the trees, ripping them down and raked the bark with her blade.

The sheer animosity that she felt at knowing that people like...him existed in the world made her want to gut someone or something. However, that rage soon subsided once she looked down. A squirrel had made it's way across her vision, only to be snatched up by her and it's neck broken. "At the very least we may eat tonight." she muttered, walking away from the tree and walking back toward the lake.



Oreron's irritation had subsided. The barking of the dog had stopped and that was good enough for him. He backed off from his curiosity, returning to his side of the lake. He looked around, realizing that he hadn't started any sort of fire. He looked around, spying river rocks and a couple of dry sticks around. It wasn't long before a fire was made as there was many items in their packs that had been massive help. Albeit killing off bandits for their things wasn't all that bad either.

He started to hum as he noticed his daughter returning behind him. "Find anything?" He asked simply, placing his hand on her head. She nuzzled her head into his hand and purred. "Just a squirrel, but I'm about to go fishing anyway.' she said, now feeling a lot better about the day. She handed it over to him, wrapping her arms around the man briefly before letting go, causing the large male to purr as she left go. He nodded, laying back down near the fire as his daughter grabbed a long spear with a tri-pointed. She stripped her armor again before jumping back into the water and disappearing into it murky depths. Oreron himself gave a hardy chuckle as he watched her swim out of sight. He set the squirrel in the fire, causing it to smoke heavily as he watched the lake again. At least the day's been peaceful so far.

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