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Damocless

The sword of the boy hung over his head in hours past; his life was measured by the strength of a cord no stronger than the unloyal ties protecting the king. And its name was Damocles.

0 · 182 views · located in The Infinite Void

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Nevermore90

Description

Damocless is not a man, nor woman, nor machine; it is a four-man team of year-long comrades that have trained to the physical and psychological breaking point. They know every inch of each-other; no secrets are kept between the members of Democless.
Don't fuck with Domacless without a bullet-proof vest and a few thousand meters (minimum) between you and them.

And who are the members of Domacless?
Meet (codename) Cyclops, Mousetrap, Mercury, and Blacktop.

Their names aren't nearly as creative as their group-identity. In fact, they're rather straight-forward. At least they tried though, and for most, that's enough.
"Cyclops," usually called Mono or monocle, is the sniper/spotter lookout.
Mousetrap, the only girl in the group, goes by Mouse. She's petite and thin, and the team's demop. She doesn't look like much, but she'll take your arms in pieces and turn your car into a nuke.
Mercury is the close-quarters expert of the group; he likes shotguns, pistols, and SMGs, particularly pumps and those that fire .45ACP; 9mm parabellum rounds don't have enough kick. Speed and guerilla-warfare are his trademarks.
Blacktop is your typical East-European heavy-weapons guy with the bad accent and predilection for miniguns and/or AK47s. He also goes by "Mouth," as interrogation is as much his job as fire support. He's the largest out of them all and he builds for strength where everyone else trains for lithe muscle.

Personality

Cyclops is critical and precise; he doesn't let anything slip his attention-it's his job, after all.
Mousetrap is sweet and carefree; she's as unpredictable as the chemicals she mixes in her basement.
Mercury talks fast and with more masochist chuave than he generally has any right to afford.
Blacktop is pretty quite. He does a lot of atmospheric knuckle-cracking and gun loading.

Equipment

Every member of Damocless has a M9 with a screw-on suppressor and four clips of ammo. They also get a survival knife, serated saw-head combination 4'' with a compass in the hilt and a luminescent strip in the center of the blade. There is also a combat knife, 6'', black blade and oiled sheathe. Between the group, food, water, and other tools are split depending on whether they're out working, for what, and where, or if they're just fucking around in the bar, wasting their post-war pensions on booze.

Cyclops: [img]http://images.wikia.com/battlefield/images/f/fa/M24_PMG.jpg[/url] M24 with some modifications. The bolt and chamber are elongated with a telescoping screw that lets him switch between .338 LUPUA for anti-armor/material penetration, .308 for hunting, and .30-06 to make noise.

Mousetrap: [img]http://www.google.com/imgres?hl=en&safe=off&tbo=d&rlz=1C1TSNF_enUS463US463&biw=1517&bih=710&tbm=isch&tbnid=W178CVLP_xMLiM:&imgrefurl=http://world.guns.ru/smg/smg13-e.htm&docid=W7B1EkB9SNInDM&imgurl=http://world.guns.ru/userfiles/images/smg/belgium/1287829331.jpg&w=600&h=257&ei=Ho3DUK2XII2u8ATo0YCQCw&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=171&vpy=193&dur=318&hovh=140&hovw=325&tx=82&ty=50&sig=112801732225521440244&page=1&tbnh=117&tbnw=275&start=0&ndsp=26&ved=1t:429,r:1,s:0,i:153[/url] FN P90; ambidexterous SMG developed for tank-commanders and aircrew who can't carry full weapons due to their tight working spaces. The magazines are so thin and well-shaped she can carry more magazines for her SMG than other members the group can for their weapons.

Mercury: Image Kriss Vektor SMG. Fires .45 ACP

Blacktop: Image An AK103's firing capacity and range, AK74's reliability, 6.7x9.12mm's whole-ripping damage output, and an M4A1's night-optic iron sights for all-day use.

So begins...

Damocless's Story

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Damocless walked into the bar in a knot, dressed in their black cargo pants and vests. Each wore their own choice of shirt underneath, varying in color but all short-sleeved, save Mousetrap, who wore a long-sleeve. "Not it..." they all called simultaneously, looked at each other threateningly, then laughed softly. "Everyone for themselves, then..."
The four occupied a seat in the corner of the bar, facing the door.

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Damocless all looked at the... "In the Homeland, cattle don't waltz into the drinkin' caf. The fuck is with Terra and its bullshit catering variety?" Blacktop shook his head and crossed his arms, obviously disapproving of food walking in his bar. "Calm down, Mouth; it'n'eat where it wants." Mousetrap leaned against Cyclops and looked at Blacktop pointedly.

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Damocless Mousetrap pointed, though she wasn't trying to be rude. "And see there? Now she's just a lil' girl. Don't be such an animal-hater, Brick."
"So what rollercoasters do you get to ride?"
"Shut up, Slab."
"At last I'm not a girl. In the Mother-"
"Y'know why Russia always gets called the 'Mother'-land, Blacktop?" Mercury leaned against the table and smiled. "'Cause both Germany and the US fucked it."

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"All of ye shut up and order yer drinks." Cyclops opened his little holographic menu and ordered. The others (once again stopped from murdering each other) follows his lead.

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Mercury tried cracking another joke, but everyone said "Shut up" before he could get halfway through a syllable. He mumbled the joke to himself and laughed anyway.

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Damocless looked a Carson. They all sort of shrugged, looked back at each other, and waited for their drinks to arrive.

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Cyclops saw Emiko from across the bar and let go of Mousetrap. "So who's makin' first move, lads?"

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"And then that fuckin' hunk of muscle-meat flaunts it glue hooves and steak-ass around a drinkin' establishment like the obligatory Russian's Natashia-named AK isn't going to open fire. I've got a hunk a lead for that damned pack mule." Blackhead's accent wasn't quite Russian, but it was close.

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Damocless 's members looked at each other, other than the female who was decidedly quite when the dominantly male activities took place. "I got first last time, so it is Mercury's turn. Unless your Western bullshit capitalism says otherwise." Blackhead chuckled.

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Damocless got their drinks and left, rather disappointed in their untimely departure.

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Damocless walked into the bar in the good-humored fashion most future-intoxicants saunter into Gambit's. Mousetrap, Cyclops, Blackhead, and Mercury made small conversation between one another, inside jokes and obscure references made to bad scifi movies no one had ever seen but them (seemingly) as good friends normally do. They found themselves a seat in the back of the bar and each ordered themselves a drink; a coin-flip decided pay would be equally split. Mousetrap sat with Cyclop's arm around her, Blackhead sat in a corner of the booth against the wall, and Mercury lounged in the generous amount of seat he was allowed. If it weren't for the guns that hang from each of their bodies, they might have looked normal.

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Damocless each had their drinks delivered-Screwdriver for the east European, something fruity for the lass, shots for Mercury, and a small bottle of brandy for Cyclops. They all clinked glasses and took a drink together.
"So... I'm guessing you've got some work lined up for us by now, Monocle," AKA Cyclops.
"Yeh. Get a broom and start sweepin' ye lazy fuck."

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Cyclops looked around the bar, glad it was mostly empty; the less people meant the less he had to worry about. "An'n'way, ye'd know if there was work for ye; ye wouldn't be sittin' in a bar takin' shots, dumbyoke."

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Mercury got up. "Whatever, one-eye. Cuddle your girlfriend and whatever, I'm off to go be a man." He looked around the bar and waited for a conversation he could butt into...

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Damocless walked over to Jes and Emiko. He flexed his arms rather casually. "Hey ladies, I don't mean to be a bother, but I think one of you may have seen my lamp..."

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Mercury smiled and put his hands up defensively. "Sorry lass, what I overheard was pretty vague. Someone said flying lamps, right? I haven't seen mine in a week and I'm really sad about it. I named him Steve." He sniffed empathetically.

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Damocless Mercury sighed a fake for genuine-sounding sigh of defeat. "Sorry for taking your times then, miss and miss...?" He looked between them, waiting for their names. He slipped his hands into his pants pockets, which caused the Vektor .45SMG he kept dangling from his shoulder to danced to the front of his body.

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"Well, nice to meet you Jester. I'm Mercury." He extended an arm. "Eh... I didn't mean to drive your friend off."

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He smiled slowly and plucked the penny out of the air. He looked at it for a moment, then flicked it between his fingers. "I'm thinking I'm now alone with a pretty good-looking girl and a full wallet. You've eaten dinner yet?"

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Mercury sat down in the newly vacant seat across from her. "I don't have to buy dinner, then. Drinks? I'm sure Gambit's rents movies or something."

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Mercury summoned the menu up. "Movies, streaming, recording, music, gaming... Yeah no Gambit's does just about everything. And why no alcohol? Live with your parents?"

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"Technically?" He turned the menu off. "I've had enough bad experiences with insane, drunk women, thank you."

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Damocless 's members that weren't off pestering Jes sang bit of Piano Man from slightly-tipsy memory.

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Mercury ignored Brian. "Sounds... eh... well, like a right sharp time, Jax." Was that her name? Did he care?

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"I've barely met you, uh... Jax. Don't worry. And I don't care what; just somethin' to keep my mind off my lost lamp."