When the Walls Fall Down(IC, Closed)

NotAFlyingToy · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **NotAFlyingToy** on Fri Nov 27, 2009 3:22 pm

Chapter One: Why can't you see?

ONE YEAR BEFORE THE TRIAL OF WEST, MATTHEW...

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Clicking. Ever present clicking.

This was the only sound in the dim room, lit by computer monitors and the glowing red emergency power lights that hung ominously from the ceiling, reminding the two-man science team on duty of one of those cheesy science fictions where the alarms blare and the self destruct button is engaged.
The room was bare, except for the elaborate computer screens lining the walls, and the single table, folded into its upright position, proudly sporting a map that was tinged with the meagre lights set up around it, providing light for the two scientists, frantically taking notes.

At the table sat a man.

He was barely a man anymore, for the experiments had taken a hefty price on his body. His skin was pale, leathery, hanging off of his bones in waves of ivory. His eyes and ears were covered by a thick black cloth, knotted too tightly, making his skin puff out. His wrinkled, pockmarked hands were constantly sifting across the map, pausing every once and a while to touch a certain point, lick his lips, and speak, his raspy voice clear in the silent room.
This was Endyne’s greatest asset, and worst nightmare. Experiment 00011, the man who’s responsibility it was for tracking and hunting the experiments loose and dangerous in the world.

His name was lost into the voids of Phoenix Connections, but now his name was two mere words that were spoken reverently, fearfully. He was known as a simple man with an extraordinary power.

They called him The Master. His ability was finding others like him.

In their endless trek, his gnarled fingers paused.

“Experiment 01338, located; Freak’s bar. Downtown, Stretch City.” He rasped, his words immediately followed by scratching as the two scientists wrote the location down. His fingers continued on their trek, moving across the map with ease. After two more experiments called out, his fingers halted.

His brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth before closing it again. Something was... wrong. He couldn’t see past a barrier... a barrier that rested squarely over New York. Try as he might, he couldn’t read the codes...

“Massive Experiments in New York City. Approximately... twenty. Retriever involvement recommended.”

In a corner of his mind, he sent a single, coded message.

<RISE, Z. MANY COMRADES DETECTED. TIME TO WORK>

The two scientists, surprised at this news, picked up a phone.

=-=-=-=

Matthew west was driving down a nondescript highway in the middle of New York state when he heard the call. A small beeping melody was heard in his headset that signalled a global call for retrievers. His ears perked up. Something big was happening.

The radio tweeted, and across the Retriever channel, the following message was heard.

“All Retrieval units, proceed with manoeuvre Alpha Bravo, converging on city target New York, New York. Heavy experiment presence, proceed with caution. Units are advised to capture targets, and return them for re-evaluation. Command out.”

West frowned. All Retrievers? That meant a lot more than heavy presence. An unaccounted for number of experiments... his skin crawled. West was no stranger to combat with experiments. Indeed, he was one of the most successful retrievers Endyne had, his capture rate almost astronomical. But that many experiments meant that they could gang up and take the Retrievers down, one by one. They had to be careful.

His radio tweeted again, and his ears perked. His private line.

“Command to Bingo, read us?”

West nodded. “Bingo here, go Command.”

“You are to detour to find Experiment 01889, otherwise named Conner, Jaz. She’s a priority A target, just entered into New York, southbound. Guns loose, not open, copy?”

West stopped the grey jeep he was driving, and reversed direction, heading towards New York. “Roger. Guns loose, not open. Any specifics?”

There was a pause. “Negative, Bingo. Master’s down for the count, it seems. Proceed with caution. This one’s a badass.”

Bingo nodded, severing the connection. He closed the folder he had open on the passenger seat, a dossier containing all of his previous captures, and focused on The open top of the jeep provided a cool breeze as he broke every speeding law he could on his way to New York. The city so nice, they named it twice.

He wondered if he would think of it that way upon leaving.

Wander · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Wander** on Fri Nov 27, 2009 3:48 pm

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"Fwam!"
The sound of a hard object smashing into a clothed figure.
"FWACK!"
The sound grew ever louder, followed by muffled grunts.
"SLAM!"
The smell of sweat and the feeling of determination was in the air.
A dark apartment living room, no TV, no Radio, no Computer.
The room was completely empty, devoid of modern devices used. Nothing but a cell phone charging on a table.
Banayat Morales was slamming his Kali sticks into a clothed dummy, his usual training.
It was a usual afternoon, nothing but training, training, a bit of food and more training.
He was wide awake, as he had just woke up from a nap.

The weird thing is..
He never naps.

The sound of police sirens caught his ear, as he turned to his window.
Setting down the sticks, he walked over to it, breathing heavily and gazing out into the bright city lights.

"Bzzzt, bzzzt, bzzzt"

His cell phone could be heard, buzzing.
He had no friends, no family still alive, and no lover.
It was obvious what the call was, he knew it well. It was almost... anticipated.

He let it ring, and a message followed. THE message.

He walked into the shower, undressing himself and walking in.
He let the cool water go down his skin, breathing slower and slower. He closed his eyes, listening to the water splash against him.
The buzzing went off once more, so he finished his business, and got dressed in his casual wear.

Trip pants, only because they allowed him much movement, and a thick shirt. He threw on his coat and strapped his daggers onto his chest.
Holstering his guns, a large and stocky rifle, and a handgun. He walked over to his table, and slid his two Kali sticks, his only prized possessions, into the custom carrying bags attached to his belt.

He didn't bother grabbing his cell phone, he knew his business, and had no other use for it.
He gathered the rest of his ammunition and slid his radio receiver into his ear. He heard his destination, and walked out of the door.

All that could be heard in the room was the wind blowing through the window, and the continued buzzing....
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Lobos · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Lobos** on Fri Nov 27, 2009 4:22 pm

Devon stood, boot soles splattered with blood. The smell of cordite was heavy in the air, gunsmoke drifting about lazily. The reek of blood was everywhere, and the man tried to remember how many corpses were strewn about the room. It was impossible to tell in the dim light, and he could quite recall all the places he'd seen bodies go down. Shrugging, the hitman knew it didn't matter. The pay for this job was quite a large one, a meal compared to the scraps he'd had tossed his way recently.

He sat on a chair, facing another, also seated. The difference was while Devon was free, the other was not. A heavy pistol tapped against his thigh, the Desert Eagle he so loved. Sharp teeth gleamed in his grinning face, the hitman waiting for the man in front of him to rouse from unconsciousness in front of him. The Mafia had wanted this man to have a brutally unpleasant death, as a message to any other competitors who dared to back out on a deal. The psychopath that he was, the hitman had readily accepted, always more than willing to accept the Family's money.

"Wake up." Devon smashed the barrel of the gun into his face, the sights digging in and gouging a line in his cheek. The pain instantly roused the other man from his stupor, eyes wide with fear as he took in the macabre scene around him. He begun to blubber incoherently, spluttering random words with no meaning. A sharp crack sounded through the room, as the hitman's hand struck his prisoner's face, the edged nails leaving bloody trails along his other cheek.

"Wha...what do you want from me?!" The man was screaming, the smell of urine and shit added to the blend of smells as he defecated himself from fear. Obviously, he knew, but still he asked the question. They all did.

"You've been a naughty boy, Harold. You need to learn to honor your promises. And unfortunately, you'll have to do it on the other side." The man's grin was wicked, feral. Devon truly loved his job, finding it so much more enjoyable than simple theft had been. And with his special genes, he never got caught, and was better than any of his competitors by far. Drawing the slide back on his gun, he set it aside, just stared at his victim for a few moments, letting fear run rampant in his mind.

Almost too quickly to follow, he snatched the pistol, firing a round into both ankles, then the knees, then the hips. He paused to reload, then repeated the process with wrists, elbows, shoulders. Harold was in too much pain to so much as scream, and Devon walked behind his bound victim, seizing his head gently, before wrenching it to the side. The snap of vertebrate was loud in the room, now occupied by one living man. A light sparked into being near his side, a match igniting a cigarette.

Taking a deep drag, he flicked the light match into the shadows, igniting the gasoline around the room. Amidst flames, he strode from the room, exiting the warehouse. Getting into his car, Devon called his contact. "Now that's a clean up job your people would have trouble with. Contract complete, I'll await the transfer on the body's ID in the morgue, as usual."

Hanging up, Devon drove away, pleased with a job well done.

Alhambra · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Alhambra** on Fri Nov 27, 2009 4:32 pm

Liam Cottson

Liam had started off this day right so far. The previous night had ended well. Typically, his nights ended with an anonymous encounter with women who had fallen for his false charm and ability to make them feel things so intense that they would be foolish to pass up the offer. This night ended no differently than any of his others. He left the bed of the woman he had met at the night club; sneaking to the kitchen and pillaging the pantry of said woman, and leaving the apartment, but not before leaving a note on the nightstand:

"You meant nothing to me."

Liam had no reservations about absolutely devestating the women that he manipulated. They were just tools, after all. All people were tools for him to use. His power gave him the ability to decieve anybody he came into contact with. Nobody he had ever spoken to had seen the real Liam in every detail; even Liam wasn't sure of exactly how he looked anymore. So, he proceeded to live his life, sleeping in the beds of foolish ditzes at night, and spending his days walking the streets on New York.

On this particular day, Liam noted passing St. John's Cathedral. It was a little ironic. The statues of the saints near the front entrance seemed to follow him with their eyes. It was as though they were staring through him, accusing him of all the sins of which he was guilty. The feelings of guilt over what he was doing had long ago dissipated, but he could still feel that what he was doing wasn't entirely right. He walked right by the church with his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

A subtle headache pounded in Liam's skull. Night after night of habitual drinking had reduced his constant hangover to little more than a common nuisance morning after morning. Liam drudged past the church and continued to walk. That was all he did when the sun was up, it seemed.

Some time later, Liam arrived at a Starbucks. A nice shot of caffiene would be helpful for sobering up. He ordered a simple black coffee, paying with money that he didn't even have. His power was helpful for simulating many things, from money, to driver's licenses, to id and even social security cards. He took his coffee and sat in the corner of the coffee shop. He looked like any other kid that would make his constant hangout a coffee shop, and that's how he liked to blend in if he didn't want to be seen in any particular fashion. Liam watched the street from a table near the front window, hoping to cause something that would liven up his day if nothing happened of it's own accord.

Cevo · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Cevo** on Fri Nov 27, 2009 4:40 pm

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A low snap echo'd throughout the stale air.
The lights of Tokyo shone through even the darkest clouds.
All that could be heard following was the honking of horns and the cell phone chatter.
"Baka baka baka!"
"Kusou!"
"Ahhh hai hai"
"Moshi mosh?"
[Translation occurring]
"Yeah, I love you too."
"I can'--- What's that?"
"What's wrong with that man?"
"You see that?"
"Yeah... What's with him?"
"He's weird..."
"Is he a foreigner?"
"He's cute..."

All that could be seen was a strange Caucasian standing in the middle of the road, horns honking at him angrily.
He was swaying slowly, a bloody knife cold be seen in his hand, the other hand holding his obviously pained head.
He glanced around, seemingly panicked.

[Switching to subject 0013589's view]
All that could be seen is a swirl of lights, weird distortions and the basic shapes of many, chattering people.
The ground was wet, and many fingers were being pointed.

[Returning to normal view]

The man swayed, looking at all the signs, as if trying to understand what they were.
The air around the man started to slowly distort, bit by bit. Obviously something was going to happen.

The man's skin bubbled a bit, and he let out a long, painful yell.
"WERE AM I!?!?!?!?!?"

A now LOUD snap rang through the air, the people dropping their once precious cellphones to protect their ears.

When everyone looked towards were the man was, there was nothing.
Nothing but smoke on the ground, slowly rising...

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Odium · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Odium** on Fri Nov 27, 2009 5:12 pm

((OOC: Parabola THIS IS FOR YOU BABY </3

Sorry for the general suckishness, but I loathe introduction posts.))

Zarathustra - two references in one. The first, a prophet, the second, the death of God. Both are ironically appropriate for the hulking monstrosity science has created, a specimen far beyond the human threshold of strength and speed and endurance. This is the final experiment, labeled accordingly with the final letter of the English alphabet. Z. The locker door swung open and the clicking was joined by the intermittent clack of gnashing teeth. He slithered from his hiding place, a form all too horrendous to behold. Another brief vacation from reality in the form of dreamless sleep in a meat locker. It took a moment for his neural pathways to regain control, for the achingly slow stimuli to speed up and reach his waiting brain. As he was a synthesis of flesh and mechanical bits, he found the wait torturous. The robot half of him yearned for a transfer rate of information far beyond what his organic one could offer. An unfortunately unsolvable conundrum.

The other's voice crawled around his skull. How he loathed its irresistible persuasion, and how he loathed his own weakness, for he could not defy it. Sheer willpower forced the rusted gears of his innards to turn. A mental interconnection between his mind and that of Master's suddenly crackled to life, as though it were a radio. Its voice rasped in a white noise kind of screech in Zarathustra's mind:

CAPTURE-RETRIEVAL. NO DISINTEGRATIONS.

'Exquisite,' thought Z in an entirely too human tone. He mused over the description of his target, feeling a hollow echo of what once could have been called 'dissatisfaction' in that his quarry was female. They generally showed such pitiful sorrow when caught, such desperation for a chance to live. He was incapable of rewarding them mercy, however, past the kind gesture of killing them quickly. She was supposed to look childlike, perhaps to key upon the innocence of youth. An excellent strategic ploy, at least. He'd give them that. The thrill of the chase had been soiled further by the news that he could not kill his victim, as was natural of the prey-predator relationship. He would be forced to incapacitate her and deliver her to Master, place the child at his whim. He would watch, of course. Brutality was a source of enjoyment for him, as somewhere in his tormented brain all sympathy had been discarded. Raw passion served as the fueling coal to his bitter flame. The lion and the lamb. Zarathustra, now fully rejuvenated and roused from his brief slumber, stalked towards the computer. He'd caught a fragment of sunlight in his unseen eye, and knew that he would have to wait until nightfall to begin the hunt.

((/end shitty post.))

shinra114 · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **shinra114** on Fri Nov 27, 2009 5:24 pm

Johnathan sat in his car watching passer byes in the street and sipping from a coffee he had just recently gotten from a Starbucks, and would casually look down at a file on a recent experiment he had been called to retrieve that was already near his location. He had just printed out the last of the files on the experiment now and was looking over them. Naturally there wasn't much on all the experiments that were loose, all he had this one was a number, name, picture, description of his ability, a bit of history, and the usual bring back alive and be cautious.
Jonathan sighed, "They always want them back alive" he thought as rubbed his temple a bit. From the brief history they originally gave him, he didn't have to much go on, but he did a little digging through the data base and main frame, and came up with a few more paragraphs about the targets childhood that gave the psychology side of his brain an idea or two. Then at the moment a CD popped out of the drive that he labeled "DWTS 3:14" and then slipped the disk into a sleeve, and put that in with the files.
Johnathan took another sip from his coffee and then promptly threw the rest out the window into a trash can.
"No reason to litter, now is there" Johnathan said to himself as he started the car and shifter to reverse and backed out of his spot.

About ten minutes later Johnathan was back at his apartment had changed and was doing his daily five hundred handstand push ups. The sweat was rolling down his back and dripping onto the floor. as he hit the one hundred mark his phone rang in the other room and he stopped in the middle. He dropped back down to floor took a deep breath and popped up walking to the phone. He picked up a towel and wiped some sweat from his face before he answered the phone.
"Hello"
"PNL, we have a mission for you" the voice on the other end answered.
"No good" PNL answered "I'm already working on another one, was gonna go after it tonight"
"Fine, but after tonight if you have him or not, report to New York, New York. All Retrievers are being called for what seems to be a massive gathering. Confirm"
"Confirm" PNL answered, and then a moment later all he heard was the dial tone.
"A calling of all Retrievers, must be big" Johnathan spoke to the empty room. He stood there for another moment and then hung up the phone and went back to his exercise.

Herr Kawne · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Herr Kawne** on Fri Nov 27, 2009 5:29 pm

RICHARD COLE

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Richard awoke to find himself next to a large, and very smelly, dead fish. He groaned.

His memory of the night before was spotty. He had met a man named Travis Homes, who, extremely amiably, got roaring drunk with him. Somehow the two of them had gotten a boat, gone fishing, and cought one large fish. The next while was a large blank spot.

Richard threw the fish off of him, and arose. He checked his watch; 3:00 PMish. Judging by the darkness, he inferred that the watch no longer performed the only function asked of it. He unclasped the ten-dollar analog watch and tossed it on the decaying fish. He strode down to the water and dunked himself several times, then got his bearings.

... A very long way from home. His apartment was on the other side of the city. Looking at his wallet, he counted what he had. A paltry $102 was left inside, and a couple coupons. He tossed the coupons away. He strode up to the street, and waited for a taxi cab.

A short time later, his patience was rewarded. He got inside, ignoring the driver's comment on the smell. He held up the money. "How close can I get to 3456 Amaway street with this?"

The driver thought. "Actually, I can get you just a block away. Spend the night?"

Richard grimaced. "Yeah. The beer was good in bed."

The driver started them off. "Yeah, I hear ya. Wife found me on the beach two years ago. Haven't touched a beer since."

The drive was relatively short as the sun rose. It was relatively uneventful, save one thing. As they passed St. John's Cathedral, Richard noticed one man in particular. Though the nearly passed right by him, he found it hard to concentrate on the man. He was.... somehow blurred to Richard's mind.

Richard puzzled over this, and the driver dropped him off with the advice to take a nice, long shower and be wary of any more amiable drunks. Richard made his way into the apartment, greeting the landlord briefly before entereing his room. He stripped off, took a twenty minute shower, and climbed in his real bed.

As he was drifting off, he realized that the man might have been another "experiment."

Richard didn't get anywhere with the bed, and watched TV for a while, brooding.

Keiko-Chan · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Keiko-Chan** on Fri Nov 27, 2009 6:26 pm

Major Bobbi Whittaker sat in her office reading over the file to the experaments she was required to capture. Anytime she would be getting a phonecall from Endyne to get to work. She started to google Endyne. It seemed they were involved in almost everything. In a few minutes her frst lutenent was there with a startled look on his face. "Ma'am you have a phonecall on line one" He said and Bobbi nodded to dissmiss him. "Why can't they call my cellphone like normal people?" She asked as she picked up her phone. "This is Major Whittaker, how may I help you sir? Oh, I apologize ma'am. It's time? No, Yes I have the file right here. No Im not an idiot. Goodbye ma'am have a nice day" She said and hung up the phone. "Wt a lovely woman" She said sarcasticly.. "It's time" She said grinning to herself. She opened the file and pulled out a picture, "hm, I guess I'll start here" She muted as she got to her car and drove to her home andgot her equiptment and went to Endyne headquarters. She entered and looked around and put a random person aside. "My name is Tango, Im a retreiver, now who do I have to talk to get a little bit of infomation here?"

Brandi woke up in the abandoned shed to the smell of meldew. "Gah, It must he rained last night" she muttered and stood up and felt for the door and opened it. "If I could see I mighteven be able to drive something" She muttered as she walked out of the shed. Even though her vision was wrecked she could make out almost everthing around her. For instance, she could feel the vibrations ofthe padded feet of animal around twenty yards away, possibly a stary dog, she could smell the newdewy grass, confirming that it might have rained a little tht night. She grabbed her pack and walked to the city of New Orleans. Last information she heard was that most expiraments were either inhiding or in heavily populated cities. The more populated the more likely was that she could find somethinglike her. Last thingshe heard about Endyne was that they were sending people out the to get tem, best that she blend in. The more experaments there were, the more there were to fight back. Brandi walked into the bar ad ordered a beer.

Conumbra · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Conumbra** on Fri Nov 27, 2009 6:32 pm

Jeffery or Experiment codename 13 as he was known to the retrievers, walked down the street calmly and serenely. He had not a care in the world. Sure he had been constantly hunted by the Retrievers all of his life but that was hardly a reason to sweat. The reason he was so cocky at this moment was because even though he had been assaulted many times by the Retrievers, he always managed to escape before they could do lethal damage to him. The main reason for this was the carbon armor that he turned his skin into whenever trouble appeared. He also made it appear to be shiny like a diamond though that was mostly to confuse and surprise his opponents.

He was currently headed to a grocery store for his weekly allotment of cigarettes. He never paid for them, of course not. He was superior to most other humans so why should he adhere to their rules? This was simple logic to him, so he always wondered why the police were called every single time he went there. He actually could predict that it took the cashier 2.5 seconds to realize who had entered her store, then to press the panic button. She was actually a little bit slow. The last store of which he had frequented, it had took the cashier half a second to do the same thing.

As he continued walking, people stared at him. It was probably the large X-shaped scar that crisscrossed his face from his eyes to his cheek. He could have simply gotten it fixed with cosmetic surgery but he chose to keep it as a reminder of his previous life and of how pathetic he had been before the operations that Phoenix had given him. They had opened him to how high he was above almost everyone else. There were very few people he though were on the same level. Even the Retrievers he believed were below him.

But that was all in the past. As he got to the door, he touched his hand to the wall of the store. Then suddenly the entire front wall of the building turned for a storm grey to a bright hot pink. He loved causing the store confusion whenever he did that. As soon as that happened people turned towards the building and let out a collective gasp at its new paint job courtesy of Jeffery. Jeffery then walked inside the store, walked up to the counter, then said to the cashier "Excuse me but I believe these are mine" He then leaped over the counter, grabbed his cigarettes, then calmly walked out of the store but not before putting the carbon armor on for when the police came, which they most certainly would.

Script · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Script** on Fri Nov 27, 2009 7:34 pm

The beat of rain against the concrete pavement filled the night air, the constant patter of the droplets splashing on the hard surface echoing in the near pitch blackness. The only light was provided by a flickering street lamp, buzzing slightly as it flickered on, then off, on, then off. A sodden rat rummaged through the bins in a side alley nearby, tearing at the plastic of the bin liner to get at the rubbish inside. The rodent's head snapped up as its ears caught the sound of footsteps approaching, heels clicking on the pavement, splashing slightly in the wet. As the figure approached, the rat scurried out of sight, deeper into the alley, where it watched them pass. The figure was that of a young woman, striding purposely through the dark with a black umbrella held to shield her dark brown hair from the downpour of water that continued to fall from the cloudy sky. Her black heeled boots continued to click against the pavement with every step, the sound resonating in the quiet surroundings, seeming out of place where before there had been nothing but the rain, and the soft buzzing of a flickering streetlamp. On, then off, on, then off.

The darkness did not faze the woman, even when the streetlamp failed for longer, taking several seconds before its light was rekindled - she never broke stride. The woman passed from the view of the rat, her footsteps fading into the night as the creature scurried back to the bins, where it once more began to gnaw away to try and reach the delicacies that awaited it within. Soon the rat had forgotten the woman, as it forgot that there had ever been other bins - it knew only the here and now, no yesterday, no tomorrow. Perhaps in this it was blessed, for what are yesterdays and tomorrows but lost moments and promised rewards that never come? You never reach tomorrow, and you can never have yesterday back.

The woman dressed all in black continued in her journey through the night, the beating of the rain on her umbrella providing a backdrop to her parade. So it came to pass that the woman dressed all in black (for she wore no other colour) approached the front door of what appeared to be an ordinary apartment block, placing an ordinary key into an ordinary lock, and turning the ordinary handle to pull open the perfectly ordinary wooden portal. Once the door was closed behind her, and the drumming of the rain faint, the woman dressed in no colour other than black slowly folded her umbrella down and placed it in a container by the door designed for the holding of such things, before proceeding towards a second, slightly less ordinary doorway. As she did so, a small blue light in a panel by the metal door lit up, and a voice emerged from it.

"Input voice activation code."

"Agent Knights, codename Silver."

These first words of the woman all in black, seemed to please the voice in the wall, for it responded,

"Voice activation code successful, welcome home agent Silver."

The metal door of what was by now evidently not an ordinary apartment block slid open, and Agent Knights, codename Silver stepped through. She walked down a thin corridor, the walls bare and characterless, cold reflections of nothing - or perhaps just walls, with no need of such words to describe their lack of noteworthy features. But while thoughts were wasted upon the nature of the walls, Agent Knights had made her way deeper into the building, and emerged now into an open plan room, with a laminate wooden floor and pleasant decor, comfortable sofas and a coffee table, a large television and a kitchen area. She made her way across the room and to one of the walls, where a copy of Van Gogh's sunflower painting was displayed on the ebony wood - or so it seemed. As it was however, when she placed her hand on the vase, it lit up as a blue line ran down it, scanning the print of her hand and confirming her identity. Once again the wall voice was pleased, and it spoke.

"Fingerprint identification complete, identity confirmed. Activating communications hub."

As Agent Knights removed her hand from the painting, the section of wall where it had hung began to split apart, and a small portal was revealed, which she proceeded to step through. Passing from the comfortable room, she now entered into a much more obviously abnormal space. Within this room were numerous computer screens, flashing up messages and surveillance footage from everywhere about the city of New York. Being one of the more high profile agents, and having access to high amounts of funds from her previous line of work, Agent Knights, codename Silver, had access to one of the most advanced bases of operations in existence. This apartment building contained everything an agent could possibly need, as well as providing a comfortable living space.

It had been only three hours since the call for all Retrievers to enter New York had gone out, but thankfully Silver had not been far at the time. Now the chase was on. Her fingers flashed across the various consoles, and screens jumped into life as she inputted commands and codes.

"Initiating tracking procedure... searching... searching..."

It was only a matter of time now.

Bainshie · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Bainshie** on Fri Nov 27, 2009 7:37 pm

The wall was filled with pinned up pieces of paper. Name, addresses, jobs, random numbers. And staring at it all was a man in his early twenties. It had taken him all night, remembering everything he had overheard in peoples minds. It filled the wall and there was more he could remember. Most of it was irrelevant stuff. Peoples families, hobbies. But scattered in the chaos was also valuable information. Who controlled what in the old company, contacts to other companies. They had stopped important people from being near him after they figured out his power, but there had been a two week period were he had had free reign. There were other experiments on their, the ones who had been close enough to him.

But what to do with it all? Seeing all the information out of his mind did help him make sense of it all, but to what goal? Any move to make this public would end up covered up.'David Ark' The name was on its own wall, connected to only a single statement, circled and question marked. 'Retrievers???'. That was the only thing he didn't get, a plan B. Retrieving what? People like him? How exactly? Adam looked up briefly to see the sun rising, and gave a sigh. Another day, another day he didn't know what his next move was.

He left the run down flat, payed for with stolen money as chip and pin didn't really work when you could read minds. It felt wrong, but what choice did he have at the moment? That what was really boiling his blood. A year ago he was looking at ending university with top marks, a stable life, loving family. Soon to be married. But it was just one in a long line of sad stories the experiments had to tell. Had she moved on? Probably, everyone thought he was dead. He couldn't go back yet either, and being so close to his old life yet so far away stung deeply. It wasn't safe to get them involved. Giving a sigh he headed towards a nearby star-bucks. Coffee was what he needed, some time to think, plan an attack. How exactly though... For the first time in his life he felt very very small and insignificant against this giant of a task.

Shouting and screaming. What the- Adam span around in the direction of the commotion, and his mouth practically dropped to the floor when he saw what happened next. 'Did that person just paint the storefront pink by touching it?..... There was something strange about this man, shiny, like a diamond. An experiment? It was the only reasonable solution. However this one seemed to be creating a lot of commotion. A split second choice based on gut instinct and a lack of current direction, and Adam began to follow him.

Prose · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Prose** on Fri Nov 27, 2009 8:36 pm

There was only a slight shift of a small foot dressed in a worn out black Mary-Jane while the child curled up as much as she could next to the dumpster behind an old Italian restaurant. Knees were pulled up tightly to her chest while Juliette's body shivered uncontrollably, and the groan of her stomach's hunger did not help at all. Now started the tears running down her cheeks, while sobs uttered almost inaudibly beneath her breath.
The only sign of hope in this girl-child was the white plastic headband hidden mostly in her brown hair, which was littered with minuscule hearts.

What's wrong Julie? Are you ok?
It's cold... I'm hungry...
Now, now Julie. You have to be strong. You'll be alright.
But it's so cold...

All went quiet for a moment, after Lore checked up on her "host" to make sure that her survival would continue. She would never let anything happen to her 'dear' Julie. Nothing. After all... no one could even touch her. Not without dying of course...

Julie... do you want to hear a story? Would that make you feel better?
Does it have a happy ending?
Why, yes it does.
...
What's wrong? You don't want to hear it anymore?
There's no such thing as happy endings...

All that was heard afterward was the inward laughing of Lore within the confines of Juliette's mind. A laughter that disturbed the girl-child and frightened her. Who was this person and why did no one else hear her? Juliette closed her eyes as tight as they could go to make her go away... if only the Mean Girl would just go away...

Herr Kawne · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Herr Kawne** on Fri Nov 27, 2009 9:31 pm

Richard Cole

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Richard clicked the remote, switching between the channels that he was leeching from his neighbors.

Delicious Salad! It can......THIS IS A TEST OF THE EMERG......We are reporting live, where the wall has been......"I'll be back"...

Richard blinked, and turned the channel back.

Somehow, the man walking away from the store has turned the wall completely pink!

Holy... Richard made a split decision. Considering the store was only a few blocks away, he might get there and the man would still be there.

He strapped on his shortsword, checked his throwing daggers, and ran outside. It was just a short run to the store, one which he frequented at least once a week. He snapped his fingers, realizing he left his shoes off. He ran inside, grabbed them, and began back toward the store.

Could there really be another one... this close?

Before the last turn, he remembered his shoes. He put them on, ran forward and faced the full situation.

Screams were heard, and he saw the man. How could one NOT? He was... almost shiny. Certain now, that the man was an experiment, Richard moved forward at a cautious pace, seeing another man following the experiment. He ran his hand through his silver hair, nervous.

treex · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **treex** on Fri Nov 27, 2009 11:05 pm

Dexter Traversa, Epsilon

The Retriever, codenamed Epsilon, was lying down on his bed lazily. He hadn't been out to catch an experiment in quite a while and was growing restless. The Company wasn't confident in his abilities yet. Even though he had a 99% accuracy rate during trainings, he didn't have much experience dealing with experiments. That, and the fact that he was too soft.

"Little freaks running amok...and I can't do anything but sit here and wait for the next assignment."

He cursed and stood up, pulled on a coat and was just about to head to a nearby grocery store, when his com-link crackled.

“All Retrieval units, proceed with manoeuvre Alpha Bravo, converging on city target New York, New York. Heavy experiment presence, proceed with caution. Units are advised to capture targets, and return them for re-evaluation. Command out.”

Not quite catching it, Epsilon pressed the log button then proceeded to inputting the replay command.

"Maneuver Alpha Bravo?"

Dexter tried to recall from his trainings about maneuvers and tactics...nothing came up.

"Guess I wasn't cut out for this, man."

He packed up his gear and threw them into "his" car boot, before putting in "his" keys to ignite the car. Yeah, this car belonged to The Company. Dexter couldn't afford his own car and was supplied with a sleek, black one by The Company. But wasn't all his gear and weps supplied by them too?

The car's engines roared and he stomped on the pedal, making his way to New York. His tail lights disappeared round the corner and into the darkness, unknowingly heading to utter chaos.

((OOC: I love Sko's post, it sucked me in completely...pure evil

Parabola's writing style is very good too. Sadly my vocabulary isn't a gigantic abyss like most of the role-players here, so I'll just have to make do with my puddle.))

Wander · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Wander** on Fri Nov 27, 2009 11:43 pm

Wander looked down from the rooftop he was standing upon
It's vantage point was obviously the most effect place, so he set up his custom-made tripod and set his rifle on it.
His sights first drew upon the now pink wall. He smirked, almost admiringly at the immense power that the Retrieved have
He followed the sights onto the entrance in which it entered, letting in, then out, than in once more, a deep, deep breath
He focused his aim and could not find a target, and disappointingly let out his breath.

"The Target has wandered outside the building!"

He quickly regained his composure and rested his sights upon the experiment, waiting for any orders. Patiently. Quietly.

pantalimon · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **pantalimon** on Sat Nov 28, 2009 2:08 am

Meya's Fear

She had constantly been afraid that she wasn't good enough; that no matter how hard she tried Mommy and Daddy would always hate her and want to give her away. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on which way you want to look at it, she didn't get to see her parents reject her. She had been an odd child from the beginning-- She had never cried, and looked serenely calm for most of her childhood--this frightened her relatives. When the Company offered to take her away, they had accepted without another word on the matter. Meya had grown up thinking that she wouldn't ever be good enough, no matter what.

It just so happened that at this very moment, in the wee hours of the sunny morning in New York City, she was only just waking up. Her bed was a cacouphony of jumbled objects; here a tattered sheet and there a piece of cardboard. When she and the others had escaped from within the Company's walls, she had taken it for granted that her life would be easier. Yes, it was less painful; but easier? Of course not. And from here on, things would only get harder for the young, innocent teen.

With a loud yawn and a crack of her back, Meya rolled off of the constructed 'mattress' (if it could even be called that) and on to the ground that really wasn't much harder. Her skin prickled, tingling wherever the soft green blades drifted across her exposed arms and legs. She wanted to Melt, she wanted it with every folacle of her body--but that was unnaceptable here, especially in the morning when some random hiker might find her half in and half out of whatever given object she was transmuting in to at the time. So no, she wouldn't Melt now.

Instead, she stood up and turned her head slowly from side to side; taking in the land. She had finally made it to New York City, even if it was just the park where any old person could kidnapp her and make away with her shit. She didn't particularly care, knowing that she would be able to get out of the situation if needed and aware that the only thing that was truly important was the knowledge she held in her own mind. Where -exactly- where the other Hunteds? It was all in her head.

She strolled leisurely among the trees, still wearing the same clothes as yesterday and the day before that. Due to her recent rash of robberies, she looked clean and healthy; her hair even shone; but clothing was something she had trouble with. If actual homeless people could live without shampoo for most of their lives, she could go without a change of clothes every single day. Or, at least, that was how she saw it. If you looked at it from a bystander's point of view, however, she deserved the clothes just as much as any hobo, if not more.

So was the morning of Meya Aslaki, as she slid in to a booth at a tea place she didn't recognize from the maps. Not one of her smartest ideas, going somewhere she wasn't familiar with: But what choice did she have? She'd never been to this part of New York State, and it fascinated her. In fact, she had been so utterly engrossed in the hand-painted murals that lined the walls (seeing them as she walked away from the tea shop with a delicate cup that she had just purchased in her hand, sipping the drink thoughtfully) that she allowed her fingers to melt in to the handle of the china, and swore loudly and furiously when she had trouble getting them back out again. She knew she was attracting attention, but all she could do was cuss and pull her fingertips out of the material. Many people stared as she finished the task, and she could've sworn she saw a video camera peeking up from behind the shoulders of a few of the onlookers.

Oh lovely. She thought sourly, grimacing up at the lens. More publicity.

The difficult task of Agent Mirror

Her breath was like mist in the early-morning fog, her clammy hand tightly clutching the walkie-talkie. It crackled to life, static louder than the words eminating from the device; until suddenly it was clear as day. "Re-capture all experiments." And they were wanted alive. What a joy this would be, no matter how hard. She would have fun with this.

Script · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Script** on Sat Nov 28, 2009 9:07 am

"Searching... searching..."

As the computer scanner continued its search, Agent Knights sighed and leant back in the black leather chair that was situated in the center of the room filled with dials and screens. This was never going to be a fast process, but somehow she felt it detracted from the thrill of the chase, sitting in a room and letting a computer do all the work for her while she spun away the hours with idle fancy. Extending her arm outwards, Agent Knights turned the radio that she had long ago placed on one of the few surfaces in the room not covered in switches, in order to provide herself with entertainment during these long waits. Beside the sleek silver device sat several books and a half eaten pack of digestive biscuits. Hardly registering the voices that now emerged from the box, she took one of the biscuits in her hand and bit down on it, before stopping mid chew as something caught her attention.

"I'm here on one of New York's busiest streets, observing a highly odd sight! Many of you might be sitting in your cars around this area wondering what on Earth is causing this massive backlog, leading all the way to Central Park. Well, hard as it might be to believe, I can now confirm that the source of this disturbance is in fact a small girl in the middle of the road! If her parents are listening, and recognise the description of a short girl appearing around fifteen years in age, with black hair and a slim build, dressed in a slightly tatty red dress, could they please come and collect her. All efforts to try and remove the girl have so far been unsuccessful, as a field of some odd force is stopping anyone coming close to her.

That's all from traffic news for now, back to you in the stu-"

The radio was silenced by a flick of Agent Knights' hand as she brought up a manual display of the files on the known experiments. It did not take long to find the girl who matched the description given by the traffic reporter. Erin Ballifrey, the girl with the telekinetic ability. Knights turned then, and hurried out of the chamber into the living space, passing through there and into an elevator set in the wall. Stepping inside, she pressed a finger to the arrow pointing downwards and waited as the sleek machinery hummed into life, taking her down below street level. As she emerged from the elevator into an open space, the lights flickered before flashing on.

Their light revealed what to most people would be a stunning sight. Within the garage-like space (though many times bigger than most garages) sat a sleek black Porsche and a similar black motorbike. While these were impressive in their own way, they were more ordinary things to have in a garage than what was arrayed along the back wall; a veritable arsenal of weaponry, from pistols to rocket launchers, shotguns to assault rifles. It was all rather Matrix really, as they hung on a pristine white wall, with a glowing backlight.

Silver strode from the elevator to this wall, and made her selections of weaponry. The Taser Cannon was first amongst her selections, the most useful device for capture rather than kill. Alongside that she took her two pistols and knife - in case she had to deal with any law enforcement. She then turned, and glanced between the Porsche and the motorbike. On the one hand, there was a traffic jam, so using the 911 would be difficult. On the other, it would be very difficult to carry a subdued child on the bike. Grabbing the keys to the Porsche from their hook on the wall, she opened the door of the vehicle and slipped inside, placing the cannon on the passenger seat and turning the keys in the ignition. Gunning the engine, she waited till the door of the garage opened up, and she put her foot down.

Across the street, an old woman was sat on her porch in the early morning, knitting a scarf for her grandson. As she looked up, she saw a sleek black car emerge from the lawn across the street, screech onto the road and roar off into the distance. "Damn kids..." she muttered, carrying on her knitting with a tut.

"Get out of the way kid! Some of us have places to be!"

The sound of shouting and the honking of horns filled Erin's head as she knelt in the middle of the road, staring at the concrete ground. If she just sat and stared, maybe the loud people would go away, and leave her in peace. They couldn't get her, she knew that, because they'd tried to get past her bubble, but they couldn't! They wanted to hurt her, wanted to take her away to the place with the needles and the chairs with the belts and the locks and the pain and the hurting and the broken glass and the blood and the corpses and the running and the running and the running and the...

"Hush Erin, block it all out."

Erin's eyes flickered as the voice spoke, comforting her in her traumatic revery. "I don't want to go back." she whispered, hugging her arms around herself as she spoke.

"And you won't. You won't let them take you, will you? I'll keep you safe, don't you worry. But you should go Erin, you don't want to draw attention to yourself."

"No!"

Several onlookers looked up in surprise and confusion as Erin shouted that word, shaking her head vigorously. "I just want to stay and sit and be left alone!"

"If you go somewhere else it will be quieter, there will be no people to bother you. Go Erin, staying here isn't good. It won't be good, they might find us."

Erin's breath caught at that thought, that they would find her and take her back. Nodding slowly, the girl pulled herself to her feet shakily, glancing around with haunted eyes, before she turned and ran, and ran, and ran.

So much running... why did she always have to run?

NorthernSoul · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **NorthernSoul** on Sat Nov 28, 2009 10:33 am

Resting her chin on the heel of her palm, Kate sucked up the dregs of her milkshake noisily. It had been a slow morning. Her last retrieval had been a week ago and she was bored. Not that she was complaining, of course; she didn't get paid on commission and there was plenty to keep her occupied in the meantime...

This morning, she'd woken up late and sidled down to the diner on the corner of the next block for brunch. Blessed (or cursed) with a metabolism that ensured the plate of maple syrup and waffles she'd just tucked into would not even see her hips (or her breasts, unfortunately), Kate was now lazily full and lounged elegantly over the counter as she watched her fellow diners pick at rock-hard bacon and rubbery fried egg.

"Did you want anything else?" said the waiter behind the counter. Kate looked up at him, removing the straw from between her lips without much subtlety of suggestion.

"Your number?" she said, with a grin, as she went back to her milkshake. He was cute, after all, in a sandy college drop-out sort of way.

"Sorry-?" he said automatically. She raised her eyebrows with mock-innocent expectation and inwardly cheered as he blushed and turned back to the till. It was one of the small joys in life to wrong-foot unsuspecting victims of her joking conversation, especially when they were good-looking victims...

The till printed off the bill in a spurt and the waiter ripped it off expertly, casting a cautious glance over to where the woman with the cropped peroxide-blonde hair still sat. There was an electric beep and she delved into the pocket of her jacket to retrieve her mobile phone, which she examined with a frown. The waiter decided that the way she pursed her lips together and how her slim form leaned against the edge of the counter was definitely worth risking the wrath of his manager when he found out he'd been picking up girls during his shift for. He turned over the bill and deftly wrote down his number, adding a neat '(Alastair)' beneath. Filled with new-found confidence, he looked up.

The stool where peroxide-blonde had been sitting was empty and a twenty dollar bill, weighted down by a salt cellar, sat next to her abandoned plate on the counter.

Outside, Kate keyed a number into her phone and lifted it to her ear.

"Nyx; what is it, Command?," she said, airily.

"Confirm your status, please, Nyx."

Kate sighed. It was frankly ridiculous, the rigmarole they had to go through simply to confirm their identity as an agent. Who else would have her phone? And sound exactly like her?

"'Be regular and orderly in your life, so that you may be violent and original in your work'," she intoned. "Now, what is it?"

"Thank you, Nyx. Generic message: all Retrieval units, proceed with manoeuvre Alpha Bravo, converging on city target New York, New York. Heavy experiment presence, proceed with caution. Units are advised to capture targets, and return them for re-evaluation."

Kate raised her eyebrows. All Retrievers? That was almost unheard of. Something big was going down, obviously. She wished Command would be a little less obtuse when it came to their reasoning... The voice at the other end of the line went on:

"Nyx, you've been assigned a Priority A: Experiment 01889, identified as Conner, Jaz. Repeat, 01889, Conner Jaz. Retrieval, not elimination, Nyx, do you understand? We'll need your help."

"Yeah, got it," said Kate, abruptly turning down an alleyway between a kebab shop and a bakery to acquire a little privacy in which she could check the pistols holstered at the small of her back, beneath her jacket, were functional.

"Good. Target is heading into the city from the north, will update with more specific coordinates as and when we have them. And Nyx?"

"Yep, Command?" she said, satisfied that she had everything she needed. She stepped out of the alleyway and stuck a slender arm out to hail a cab.

"You've been assigned a partner: Agent Bingo. We'll be in touch about a rendezvous."

"Great!" exclaimed Kate, with a healthy amount of sarcasm as she got into the cab. "Nothing like a little Retrieval to help two people really get to know each other, don't you think, Command?"

"Goodbye, Nyx."

werescott · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **werescott** on Sat Nov 28, 2009 1:59 pm

Kai sat quietly in a little Italian restaurant looking out on to the busy streets, taking in the emotions of all the people walking by feeling there joy and troubles. It did him good to think about the problems of others, it helped him realise that he didn't have to bad even despite his current situation. Some people out there had dying family, death threats kidnapped children or poverty, how could he complain. If his life was to end at any moment he would not allow it to end with him feeling sorry for himself. He sat there twiddling his pasta on his fork, it wasn't hard for him to get money for the food, all he had to do was touch someone and he could construct himself into their past as a good friend that they owed money. He could make the emotions so powerful they would feel compelled to pay back the money sometimes more. Through doing this he kept himself well dressed and him and his pet Orwell well fed.

He placed a meat ball or two in a little plastic bag and placed it in his pocket wear the little gerbil would be able to get at them without ruining his Blazer. He hated running and hiding from the retrievers he preferred to live as much of his life as he could. What would be the point of staying alive if he spent it constantly fearing death, ruining his life completely. If the time came it came, if not then he would continue life as always searching for new things to try and experience. Maybe if he looked enough, he though he would find her, the woman who got him out of Phoenix Corporations, the one who he hadn't seen since they departed for safety and went into hiding.

From the corner of his something caught his eye, in the street a large amount of people had began together pulling a variety of recording objects of all sorts. He could feel the excitement and wonder radiating from the crowd as they all converged around one point phones, cameras and camcorders. He pulled himself out of the chair placing the money on the table and carefully lifted his blazer over his shoulder and went to find the cause of the commotion.

Standing in the centre of the group was a young girl in her teens, she was wrestling to remove her finger from a cup. From what he could see they had actually melded into the cup itself and that she was possibly an experiment. Thinking quickly he weaved his way through the crowd until he was next to her and placed his hand on her shoulder calming her with his power, her fingers relaxed and the cup came off cleanly. He then turned to the crowd "Ladies and Gentlemen.. the famous Jeradine" He called sending her a message in her mind to bow as the crowd burst out into applause.

When the Walls Fall Down(IC, Closed)

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