Forums / Roleplaying / Superheroes

Superheroes
05:57:25 Jul 30th 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

[[OOC: Warning - This RP contains intense violence, profanity, sexual references, and spam...please read with caution]]

 

"Superheroes"

 

Cariosus, largest city of Solum, had long been a place of violence and crime, with few able to do anything due to the power of the organized crime rings. The government and police force were far from corrupt, but were far from wealthy as well, and a war on crime was far from their minds, as they could not afford it. Organized crime took control of many industries through extortion, and legal means, and soon, most of the businesses in the city were under the control of various organizations. Law became more scarce, and injustice became a common sight, and nobody, including the police, could do a thing. After fifty years of injustice, and abuse, a select few of the people are ready to rise up, to fight the corruption that has so long plagued the city.

***

Name:
Age:
Height:
Weight:
Hair Color:
Eye Color:
Past Combat Experience: (Ex-Marines, Ex-cop, normal guy, Ex-Army, Ex-Navy. Nothing more than that, I don’t want some Kung-Fu expert jumping around karate chopping people or some ex-Commando mowing down five rooms of villains with a BB gun.)Biography:
Description: (Mental condition, physical description, stuff like that)

The Birth of the First Hero

Former Marine Lieutenant Frank Harrison was standing in Norbert Banking, a mid-sized bank that was used by most of the locals in the south-west part of town. As the teller was counting out his withdrawal, however, four men wearing black suits entered the bank. Nobody paid much attention to them as they went about their business, not until they drew submachine guns, anyway.
"Nobody move! This is a raid! Press the button, and everybody in here is dead!" yelled one of the men as he pulled out a Gulkon-8 and began covering the hostages. The other men pulled out Gulkon-8s as well, and began covering the hostages. One man rushed to the manager’s office and grabbed him, dragging him to the vault and pointing his gun at him.
"Open it, now!" roared the robber.
The manager turned to the robber, and the robber turned and signaled. A robber standing several feet away from Frank Harrison took out a knife and stabbed a woman in the jugular vein. Anger built inside Frank as the warm blood spilled onto the tile floor.
"Open it, I said!" roared the robber as the manager began going through the various security measures of the vault. While he was doing that, Frank was staring at the woman who had been killed, her eyes were frozen in the horror she had been through moments before her death.
"Go faster!" ordered the robber.
"I’m trying!" yelled the manager.
Suddenly, police sirens were heard outside, and ringleader looked at his men.
"You heard what I said, open fire!" ordered the ringleader.
Frank suddenly ran at the closest robber, remaining in a crouched form, and tackled him to the ground. He then punched him twice in the face before grabbing the submachine gun and jumping behind a pillar.
"Shit!" yelled the Ringleader at the vault before running behind a desk, his remaining robber jumped behind a pillar as people began rushing out of the bank in a panic. Frank then rushed out from cover, fired at the ringleader’s position, and jumped behind another pillar, closer to the second robber.
"My finger! You blew off my fuckin’ finger!" yelled the Ringleader.
Frank realized that he must have hit the Ringleader, and jumped out, running at the second enemy’s pillar. The enemy jumped out and fired, but Frank moved to the side, avoiding the short spray of bullets that occurred before Frank punched the robber in the face. The robber dropped his submachine gun and stumbled back before raising his fists, and Frank smashed him in the side of the head with another blow. The enemy fell to the ground, and John smashed his heel into the enemy’s face right as the Ringleader, having semi-recovered from his finger being blown off, began shooting in Frank’s direction. Frank jumped around the pillar and away from the Ringleader’s inaccurate fire, with a few bullets hitting the enemy that Frank had just knocked out.
"You little bastard!" yelled the Ringleader, "Just fucking die!"
Frank did a crouch-run to another pillar, narrowly avoiding a short burst from the Ringleader. He then heard the sound of a clip being changed and ran to the desk that the Ringleader was hiding behind, jumping on top and kicking him in the face. The Ringleader fell backwards and Frank jumped down, smashing him in the head with his submachine gun and knocking him out. Frank then stood up and saw a SWAT team enter the building.
"Drop your weapon!" yelled one as he saw Frank.
Frank dropped his submachine gun and turned.
"What the hell happened?" asked the Team Leader, "You do this?"
"Yeah," admitted Frank, "Didn’t kill any."
"Get outside," ordered the Team Leader, "Clear the building!"


06:44:08 Jul 30th 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

Name: Frank Harrison
Age: 31
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 235 lbs
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Brown
Past Combat Experience: Ex-Marine
Biography: Frank Harrison was born and raised in a small farmtown hundreds of miles away from Cariosus, however, at age eighteen, he signed up for the Marines. After fighting in the Berisian Wars, he returned at age twenty-seven and began work as an apprentice tailor at a tailor-shop. At age twenty-nine, he left the tailor shop and took up work in a factory, where he worked until the Norbert Banking heist.
Description: He is somewhat sensitive to killing, not wishing to kill unless absolutely necessary, this comes from his experiences in war. He is in good physical condition, having kept in shape after his days in the Marines.


18:15:59 Jul 30th 09 - Mr. Himanil VII:

Name: Adam Dragstorm
Age: 28
Height: 6"4
Weight: 220lbs
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Black
Past Combat Experience: Ex-Army
Biography: Adam hailed from a family of hunters living in a lonely part of the country, his good build and skills at stealthy shooting prompted him to join the army where he served like just another normal guy before being made a 'negotiator' due to his glib speaking skills and put in a monotonous posting in a city. Soon after he retired and after a lot of struggle managed to get himself a job as a proffessional mediator.
Description: A surprisingly nimble man for his well built figure. Adam is somewhat a good talker and a fierce fighter with a flame in his eyes thanks to the many struggles he'd been through to support his family and after his tenure as a marksman in the army.


21:52:34 Jul 30th 09 - Mr. Laplarvis:

Name: Truman Ormel
Age: 58
Height: 5'3"
Weight: 207 lbs.
Hair Color: Light Gray
Eye Color: Blue
Past Combat Experience: Ex-Army
Biography: Suffering from shell-shock after several wars, Truman Ormel settled down in Cariosus, where he gets nervous break-downs every-so-often, since the city is filled with crimes, explosions, and gunshots.
Description: Suffering from shell-shock, is white, with a clean-shaved face, and short hair, wears simple t-shirts and khakis.


12:51:59 Jul 31st 09 - Duke Angelus:

Name: Joshua O'neil
Age: 27
Height: 6 foot 4 inches
Weight: 110 kg(i don't know lbs :P)
Hair Color: light brown
Eye Color: Blue
Past Combat Experience: Ex-Marine

Biography: Joshua was brought up on the streets of
Cariosus, determent to changes his life path of crime, Joshua O'neil joined the marine core at the age of 18. After many years of loyal services in the Marine core at the age of 24, Joshua left to marry Stephanie Balon a nurse in the Marine core, after two years of marriage Stephanie was killed in a car accident, which the drivers had just robbed a corner store.

Description: Joshua has a clean shave with a soul patch, his is always wear blue jeans an a red shirt. He is a heav built man and tries to keep himself in shape with the training he learnt in the Marines, His once clisering eyes are now filled with emptyness.


08:26:59 Aug 1st 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

"So, Mr. Harrison, what made you get up and take action?" asked the interviewer as Frank Harrison sat in a rather uncomfortable chair.
"I felt like I had to, if I hadn't, a lot of people would've been killed," replied Frank.
"Why didn't you shoot them? Why'd you use your fists?" asked the interviewer.
"I honestly have no idea, but it worked, I'm still alive, they're in prison, I guess that's what matters," said Frank.
"That is very true, Mr. Harrison, very true," said the interviewer, "One last question, Norbert Banking sent you a request to sponsor you as some sort of super-hero symbol, do plan on accepting?"
"Not at all," replied Frank with a smile, "They'd probably want me to wear a cape and some ridiculous outfit."
"Haha!" exclaimed the reporter.
As the interview continued, John Miller, a man of twenty-three, watched with interest. On his television screen was one of the most courageous men he had ever seen. During a robbery, he had taken action and used his fists to stop the robbers, with minor support from a submachine gun. It was an amazing story, and it being true made it all the better.

***

Frank Harrison walked into his apartment after the long interview, he had been paid quite a bit, he didn't mind. A knock came to his door as he sat down, and he grabbed his baseball bat, having been anticipating retribution from friends of the robbers. He looked through the eyehole and saw nobody. Frank moved to the side almost right away, and opened the door. A gunshot came through from a previously out of view pistol before a man kicked the door open and held his knife and pistol at the ready. He turned, cutting at Frank's arm, and Frank jumped out of the way before thrusting the baseball bat into his chest. The assassin fell backwards, aimed his pistol at Frank, and fired as Frank jumped to the side, dodging the bullet by a split-second. Frank then smashed his bat down on the assassin's leg and brought it down again on his head, cracking his skull and killing him. Frank kicked the assassin's weapons away and checked the body before calling the police.


08:48:14 Aug 1st 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

[[OOC: I plan on most of the vigilantes to be somewhat inspired by Harrison's actions, so you can either watch the news broadcast, or hear about it, or something. But yeah, the RP has officially started!]]


18:41:09 Aug 2nd 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

[[OOC: I'll make this a story if nobody is going to post...-_-]]


06:51:50 Aug 3rd 09 - Mr. Rhade:

Name: Preston Wolfe
Age: 21
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 195
Hair Color: Dark Brown
Eye Color: Hazel
Past Combat Experience: Some random street brawling experience.  Preston can handle himself, but would be at a disadvantage against most fighters who had received actual training.  Somewhat well practiced with the pistol he carries, but not under any sort of high-pressure situation.  Preston generally prefers a stealth to strength, getting in, getting the job done, and getting out before anyone starts to worry.
Biography: Growing up with his family in Cariosus, Preston had always dreamed of becoming a policeman or politician, wanting to fight the corruption.  His father was a policeman, but his mother had heavily disapproved of the career since Preston could remember, mainly due to the threats that cops who went beyond simply responding to street calls received.  When Preston was around the age of 10, a number of threatening notes arrived at their house via rocks thrown through their windows.  After a botched attempted to torch their whole house, Preston's mother decided it was time to go, and divorced his father.  Shortly after, his mother's alcoholism started in, and by twelve Preston hardly had a mother at all, his father dead months ago in a "mugging." 
     Eventually his mother succumbed to her disease, and Preston was shuffled around various family members before ending up with his father's brother, the black sheep of the family.  He was some big executive in CompuCorp, though Preston had never really seen him deal with anything remotely business-like.  He had, however, on multiple occasions, witnessed random people being "interrogated in his uncle's mansions, as well as bodies going in and out.
     At 17, his uncle had brought him up to speed on the whole business, which Preston had long since figured out.  His uncle was a top-level enforcer, of the corporate time.  He ran everything important related to CompuCorp's more questionable needs, such as bootlegging and dealing with competition.  Since that time, Preston has been involved in a number of low-level operations within the business, having abandoned his old dreams of fixing the city.  His father had tried, and he'd lived his life in a little apartment and eventually died for it.  His uncle, however, was a top criminal and lived a life of luxury.  The preferable life had been obvious.  Unfortunately, simply being related to a big whig didn't give him a free ride, and his uncle had informed him that he'd still need to do something big to move up the ladder....
Description: Intelligent and driven to do something with his life, though somewhat disillusioned with the "right" path.  Preston is still not completely alright with how his life has turned out so far, though, and has yet to kill anyone.


09:19:04 Aug 3rd 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

[[OOC: Thanks Rhade! However, I don't want you to be a villain due to the fact that PvP fails 100% of the time. If you were planning on it, sorry.]]


23:22:05 Aug 3rd 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

[[OOC: Introducing several vigilantes controlled by me, seeing as we lack the number of people necessary to have enough. =P]]


A six foot tall man in a long brown leather jacket, a brown fedora, brown leather boots, a pair of tan trousers, and a black shirt walked through the dark streets, his .44 magnum in its holster on his belt. As he walked, his mind was at work. It would be his first time killing anybody, and his first time in a combat situation, however, his father's magnum was all he had, and he was sure that it would work just fine. He approached an apartment door, the door to an apartment of several greasers who had recently beat up his neighbor, Gracie, in an attempt to collect protection money from her supermarket. They had beaten her, badly, and odds are she wouldn't be able to see out of her left eye again. The bastards had to be stopped. The man tried to open the door, but it was locked, he then backed up and kicked it, lacking enough force to successfully kick the door open, he instead pulled out his magnum and fired on the knob. The door opened, and the man stepped in.
"Holy shit!" yelled one of the greasers as the man aimed, "Don't shoot."
Several emotions flew around in the man's head, would killing him solve anything? Or would it cause retribution. Probably not, these guys didn't have any friends. He pulled the trigger, the recoil of the magnum causing his arms to shake as the greaser fell to the ground with a bullet in his chest. Several men ran down the stairs, one of them with a 9mm pistol, and the man turned around, firing his .44 magnum. The man that was in the process of aiming his pistol fell backwards and began falling down the stairs as the other men stopped.
"Shit, don't kill us, don't kill us!!" yelled one.
"You beat up Gracie Anderson," said the man.
"Her? This is for her!? Hey man, we're sorry! It was a mistake!" yelled the greasers.
"It was a mistake that will cost you your lives," said the man before pulling the trigger. The first man fell backwards. He adjusted his aim, and the second greaser attempted to grab the dropped 9mm pistol, but was shot in the site. The man then stepped up the stairs, grabbed the pistol, fired a shot into each greaser's head, and walked out the door as he heard sirens in the distance.


07:56:23 Aug 4th 09 - Mr. Rhade:

[[Wasn't planning on it!  Sorry I didn't make it clear.  Preston will have like two attempted evil-nesses before switching, going out of town for a couple days after this, so have to write my first post tonight.  Have it deleted it if it's not going to fit so far, I'll try to catch you on MSN at some point for after this.]]

Preston continued jotting down notes as he watched the interview.  He'd seen the aftermath of the job this guy, Frank something, did firsthand, as well as the security videotapes.  It was all pretty amazing.  Despite the line of work he'd now taken up, it was kind of refreshing to see someone standing up to crime.  Unfortunately for this guy, however, he wasn't likely to see the sun rise ever again, as there was no doubt already a bounty on his head.

That's it...

Just like that, Preston realized exactly how he could earn favour with his uncle.  Even if the botched bank heist didn't reflect badly on CompuCorp, anyone standing up to criminals was a danger to organized crime in general.  All he had to do was kill this guy, who wouldn't be expecting it at all.  The perks of a job with a television station just kept coming.  Besides a press pass, which was the only way Preston had been able to pull off a lot of his jobs, he got opportunities like this.



After the interview was over, Frank headed home.  Preston, seemingly engrossed in a newspaper, strolled along a ways behind him.  He'd done some quick research and picked out Frank's apartment building before the interview had finished, so he didn't have to follow Frank too closely.  However, Preston still needed to make sure that he was actually headed home, so he followed, though not too worried whenever he lost sight of Frank from time to time.

Eventually the man entered his apartment building, and Preston hung back.  He hadn't been able to locate his apartment number, and following Frank directly up the stairs or elevator would certainly tip him off.  After waiting a few minutes, Preston entered the lobby and approached a nearby man, reading today's news.

"Excuse me, sir?  Would you happen to know where a Frank Harrison lives?"

The man looked up from his newspaper, and simply raised an eyebrow at Preston.  Flashing his press badge, Preston asked again.

The man responded rather gruffly, "Sorry, I wouldn't know anything about that."

Preston smirked, knowing exactly what this man was looking for.

Pulling a small handful of money from his pocket, Preston asked the man one more time.  The man, after counting out the money, agreed to show him the apartment.  They walked up the stairs together, until the reached Frank's floor, at which point the man nodded down the hallway and pointed out Frank's door.  Preston thanked the man and set off down the hallway, making very sure that the man was gone before he stood before the door.  Did Frank have a family?  Any guns on hand?  Preston was missing some information, sure, but if he didn't take this guy out someone else certainly would, and then Preston wouldn't get anywhere.

Taking deep breaths, Preston's grip on his pistol tightened.  Steeling himself against what he was about to do, he knocked on Frank's door.

     Right as he did, however, the door to the stairs opposite those Preston had come up opened.  Slightly more worrying, however, was that Preston picked up the faight sound of a gun being cocked.  Without waiting, he took off back towards the stairs he had come up, running as quietly as he could, right next to the walls so as to make as little noise as possible.  Rounding the corner at the end of the hallway, Preston nearly ran right into the man who had showed him to Frank's apartment, who also had a gun drawn.  The two stared at each other in surprise for a split-second before the sound of a door opening and a gunshot diverted their attention.

     Peeking around the corner, the men heard another gunshot, and then witnessed a baseball bat come crashing down onto the would-be assassin's head.  With one last look at each other, both took off down the stairs.


09:00:19 Aug 4th 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

As two suspicious looking men walked quickly out of Harrison's hotel, another man walked in. His face was rather rugged, with a rough beard and several scars, and his build was neither large or small, but usual. Inside his leather jacket was a silenced pistol and a combat knife. He walked up the stairs, and came out at the floor that Harrison had been staying. The police that Harrison called wouldn't be arriving due to a bribe, that left him wide open.

The man walked down the hall, seeing the blood from the previous, inept idiot of an assassin staining the carpet outside of Harrison's room. The assassin drew his silenced pistol, along with his knife, and slowly slid down the wall towards Harrison's room.
"Mr. Harrison, police," said the assassin.
"Come on in," replied a tired sounding Harrison.
The assassin stepped into the room with his pistol behind his back, raised it, and fired on the blanketed figure on the couch. He then realized that it was a dummy as he turned in time to dodge a baseball bat swing. He raised the pistol as Harrison grabbed the barrel and pushed it to the side, kneeing the assassin as he did so, the assassin hardened his gut, resisting the knee as he slashed at Harrison's neck. Harrison jumped backwards to avoid the knife, and the assassin jumped forward, slashing again in a precise motion. Harrison narrowly avoided the second slash as it caused a cut on his upper chest. Harrison then thrusted his baseball bat into the assassin's chest, with the assassin dodging out of the way and slashing Harrison's arm. Harrison yelled as the blade cut through his skin and flesh, and turned around, elbowing the assassin in the face. The assassin stumbled backwards and raised his pistol just as Harrison smashed it out of his hand with his baseball bat. Harrison brought his bat back, grasped it higher up with his other hand, and thrusted it forward into the assassin's chest. The assassin fell to the ground, gasping, as he had the wind severely knocked out of him.
"Son...of a bitch," said the assassin.
Harrison kicked him over and punched him once in the face before grabbing his combat knife and silenced pistol and throwing the knife, along with the previous assassin's pistol. Harrison backed away from the assassin and kept his silenced pistol aimed at him.
"Alright, now, the reason I waited here instead of getting the hell out was because I wanted to see if another would come, I was right," said Harrison, "I know you aren't going to answer, but I'd feel cruel if I didn't give you a chance. Who sent you?"
"Don Giovanni Remucci," said the assassin.
"You're lying, want to know how I can tell?" asked Harrison.
"How?" coughed the assassin.
"Because I'm good at it," replied Harrison as he aimed at the assassin's kneecap< "I'm not sure I can trust your word now."
"You can, don't!" yelled the assassin, "My services don't come cheap, and they can't be afforded by the man who hired me."
"Who?" pressed Harrison.
"A thug, his name is Paul," said the assassin.
Harrison walked over to the assassin, pistol whipped him into unconsciousness, grabbed whatever useful items he had, and tied him to his turned off heater before walking out of the room, grabbing his already packed suitcase, the combat knife, and the previous assassin's weapon as he went.


13:22:41 Aug 6th 09 - Mr. Himanil VII:

(Know that it's crap, but thought that I'd just post to ensure that I'm still here, I'll post soon when I'm slightly less busy)

Adam stumbled out of the car as his hands frantically searched through the dead man's bloodied coat, occasionally looking sideways to to check if anyone was watching.

As he reversed his 'borrowed' car there came a sickening crunch as the dead man's bones got crushed once more. Driving at a moderate pace Adam's breathing slowed down to a normal rate as he became convinced that no one was following him. True, he had killed in the military but that mystifyingly enough, was strangely exciting in a way and gave him a kick like few other things did but now that he no longer belonged to the army every time he took a life there seemed to be no rush of emotions, no feeling of accomplishment . He'd wake up at the dead of night sweating, the faces of all those whom he had killed racing through his mind, wondering if he ever did make a wise choice by coming over to the city.

Pulling himself out of his reverie Adam examined closely the package he'd recovered from the dead man. It had his photo, instructions to kill him and some cash undersigned with Paul.
The name seemed strangely familiar but Adam was unable to remember where he'd come across it before. Pondering upon the name Adam drove off into the sunset thinking very hard as to what lay ahead of him.


01:47:44 Aug 9th 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

[[OOC: If only two people are going to post, this will have to be cancelled. I'd prefer if you didn't sign up at all rather than signing up and not doing anything.]]


02:58:00 Aug 9th 09 - Mr. Himanil VII:

[[Oh cmon now, just continue anyway.]]


05:08:29 Aug 9th 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

[[OOC: I guess if one person besides me is willing, I'll give it a shot.]]

"Crap," muttered John Miller as he watched the news broadcast. The apartment of Frank Harrison, Hero of Norbert Banking, had been attacked twice, the first time by an unskilled thug, and the second time by a somewhat skilled hitman. Both had failed, as the first thug was dead, and the second was tied to the heater when the police finally arrived.
"Wait a minute...the police took that long to get there?" John asked himself aloud, "Corrupt bastards..."

***

Frank Harrison sat down in a new safehouse, his weapons on a table across from him. The television was on, and the report of the attempt on his life was being broadcasted via SNN (Solum News Network, one of the largest news broadcasting companies in Solum). They displayed several pictures of the first assassin's fractured skull, and they displayed a few mugshots of the second assassin, giving information on both. The first assassin was James E. Collins, a twenty-three year old hood who had probably desired fame, and as such, he had gone after Harrison. The second assassin was Vincent A. Wagner, a forty-one year old man with almost no criminal record, except for an arrest fifteen years before on charges of assault. Due to a hidden camera that Harrison had set up in the room, they had evidence that both men had attempted to murder Frank Harrison. All that remained was finding Harrison, who had left the room and the building moments after defeating the second assassin for unknown reasons.
"To avoid any corrupt bastards," replied Harrison to the television as he leaned back and attempted to go to sleep, a pistol under his pillow.


08:49:29 Aug 9th 09 - Mr. Rhade:

Adrenaline was still rushing rapidly through Preston's veins.  He had just witnessed a man die, in a situation that, had fate and luck not intervened, Preston himself could have just as easily been in.  He was very heavily shaken, as was the man sitting next to him, slowly driving his car away from the apartment building.  Eventually the two reached a small coffee shop, where the man pulled over.

"Why are we stopping here?"  Preston asked.

The man chuckled gruffly and looked over, "Because I need a smoke, and I need to figure out what the hell just happened."

Preston conceded the latter point, and followed him into the shop, where they both took seats at the counter.  After they had left the apartments, Preston and the man had been reluctant to split up, feeling that it would not only be more suspicious, but that it was much safer to have two guns and four eyes than half that number.

After the man had begun smoking his cigarette, and Preston was nearly finished with his drink, the man introduced himself rather abruptly as Robert.

"My name's Preston..."

"Nice to meet ya, Preston.  Back there in the apartments...you're no reporter, are you?" Robert asked, sizing Preston up very subtly.

Preston shook his head, "No, I am...just...not what I was there for, I guess.  From what I've gathered you weren't just innocently sitting around the lobby, though."

Robert shrugged, "Innocent..guilty...those are vague terms in this city.  I certainly wasn't there by choice."

Preston finished his drink, then looked over.  "How'd you end up waiting around to assassinate that guy, then?"

"I'm a cop," Robert replied, with a sort of sad half smile, "but after I pressed a little too hard somebody followed through on their threats and kidnapped my family.  I got a phone call today giving me this name and address, and my family goes free if I kill him."

"And if you don't?"

Robert looked down, "They kill all of us."

After sitting in silence for a few minutes Robert put out his cigarette.  Time passed as the two made smalltalk and spoke halfheartedly about what Frank might try to do next, and what the best way to deal with him would be.  They never arrived at anything close to an answer to that question.  After a quick meal and some more talking, however, something on the television caught Preston's eye.

He motioned at one of the employees, "Hey, can you turn the television up for a second?"

The waitress rolled her eyes at him, but then complied, allowing Preston and Robert to hear an SNN broadcast about Frank Harrison and today's events. 

"--ximately two hours ago, a gruesome scene took place in a local apartment building.  To anyone with a weak stomach, you might want to change the channel..."  The two listened as the reporter relayed how Frank had not only killed one assassin, showing the burtal pictures of that one's skull, but had defeated and disarmed a second, suffering only light injuries.

"Shit," Preston remarked, "this guy's like some kind of superhero.  I wonder how pissed all the crime bosses are right now?  Not only has this guy been sticking it to them, over and over, but now the whole city knows about it.  You know, maybe this vigilante thing is the way people should've been doing it the whole time, no offense to the police, of course."

Robert shrugged again, "This guy will just get  himself killed eventually, he won't make much difference in the long run."

Preston shook his head, "He's making a ripple, and that's something.  My dad was gunned down as a cop, and he barely made an impression on crime in this damned city...some young punk trying to make a name for himself shot him for the glory of it.."

Robert looked at Preston hard for a second, "Kind of like you, huh?"

Preston, shocked, angrily turned to Robert, "What!?  How could you--"

"Hey!  Listen, listen I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that.  It was--"

Preston, now looking down, waved him off.  "No...my god...you're right.  When I was young I was always so proud that my dad was fighting crime in this city, and so angry when he died like that...and now..."

"I'm sorry," said Robert, shaking his head.  "I know how easy it is to get caught up in stuff like this here, I'm a policeman trying to assassinate one of the only guys to make any real kind of difference lately for God's sake."

Preston looked back up at Robert, "Yeah, but I have no excuse.  I...I don't know.  I need to think, about a lot of things."

"You're not the only one, kid," Robert answered, standing up.  "I think I'm going to head home and pick up a few things.  I have a general idea of where they might be keeping my family...and after all this...I've got to try.  I live about 12 blocks easy of here, can I drop you off anywhere?"

Preston stood, dumping some money on the counter. "I'll just ride with you, if that's alright.  There's a friend's apartment over in that area that I can walk to."

The two made the car ride in near silence, both lost in their respective thoughts, until Robert pulled over in front his apartment building, parallel parking behind a poorly parked black car.  The two got out and shook hands, and as Robert began to fumble with his keys to get to the one that would let him into his apartment, Preston began to walk away.  After he had taken a few steps, however, several car doors opened nearly simultaneously, and he slowed.  As he was turning around, Robert yelled "F***!" and Preston heard his keys drop to the ground.

Three men stood around Robert, one pulling a knife from him as another began to pull him towards the black car.  The third stood apart, gun drawn and pointed at Preston.

"And just who the hell are you?" asked the man.  "You didn't see anything happen here....or did you?  You look kind of shifty that way."

The first man, who was now cleaning off his knife, looked up at Preston.  "Nah, nah, I've seen this kid before.  That's John's nephew, don't touch him."

"Yeah, well, you didn't see anything.  Now get the fuck out of here!"  exclaimed the man as they all began to return to their car, the engine still running.

This entire time Preston's blood had been boiling hotter and hotter.  He had made the decision to kill them as soon as he'd seen the knife come out of Robert, but he'd had no real idea how.  Drawing a gun on three armed men had seemed like a really bad idea, but now that they were all in the car...

The keys...

As the black car began to drive away, Preston ran forward, picking up Robert's keys from the ground and getting into his car from the passenger side, sliding over.  It was a rather large car, tan coloured, and Preston had, at a glance, decided that it could do plenty of damage to the black car, which was currently speeding away very quickly indeed.  Thankfully Robert's car had some power that Preston hadn't expected from it, and he began gaining on the black car.  After nearly a mile of speeding down the road, the black car had apparently taken notice, and had increased its speed.  As it approached the next intersection, however, it began to slow down, and Preston knew exactly what he was going to do.  Tires squealing, the black car slid into a left turn.  Preston had no intention of turning, and had never taken his foot off the accelerator.  As the car made its turn, its left side was presented, and Preston slammed directly into it.

The impact set off Preston's airbag, cushioning him from the worst of the wreck, but also blocking his view of the black car.  Very disoriented, Preston fought off the airbag and stumbled out the door, drawing his gun.  The crash had greatly dented the left side of the car, which then had pushed the front right corner of it into the light pole on the corner of the street, causing the car to spin around before crashing directly into a concrete pillar in the storefront there.  Preston approached the car from the right side as onlookers began to gather, noting that whoever had been in the passenger seat was now laying on the dash, partially through the broken windshield, fully unconscious or dead.  The man who had earlier drawn his gun on Preston, however, was beginning to look around with squinted eyes.

Running at the car, Preston flung open the back right door and, without hesitating, pulled the trigger twice, hitting the man in the neck and the head, killing him almost instantly.  The driver of the car was not in good condition, his legs having been crushed by the crash and subsequent pillar.  In a fit of mercy, Preston put his gun to the back of the man's head and shot before turning his attention to Robert.

he pulled the blindfold and tape off carefully, noting the profuse bleeding from the stab wound in Robert's chest, which had probably been exacerbated by the wreck.  Robert, breathing heavily and still disoriented was slow to recognize Preston, but once he did he began to talk, very slowly and deliberately.

"I've seen wounds like this...I won't make it.  No--" Robert cut off Preston as he was about to speak, "let me say this.  In my apartment I've got some supplies and some research on who has my family.  If you want to redeem yourself...help them.  Please, help them."

At this point, Preston picked up the faint sound of sirens in the distance, which Robert quickly noticed too.

"Go...run now"

Preston hesitated, then nodded, gathering Robert's gun as well as the gun of the dead man in the back seat before covering his face with his arm and taking off down the street, darting into the nearest alleyway for cover.


19:47:44 Aug 9th 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

The man walked into his apartment after having killed five, wait, wasn’t it four? He couldn’t remember, but he had just killed several men, several rotten men, but several men. They hadn’t killed Gracie, they had beaten her up, but they were rotten bastards, and if he had only beaten them up, they probably would’ve come back for vengeance. It was for that reason that Patrick M. Kephart had shot and killed them with a .44 magnum. And as he sat there, and took apart the powerful pistol for cleaning, his mind began shifting around, as if in a storm.

"You killed them, Patrick, you killed them in cold blood," he said to himself.
"For a good reason," he replied.
"There is no good reason to kill a man," he responded, "Especially since those punks probably never killed."
"I don’t have time to argue with myself," muttered Kephart as he began cleaning his magnum.

***

"Chop ‘em up!" yelled the meat cleaver, "I want blood to cover my blade!"
Michael Grant, a butcher, looked at the tied up man, every inch of himself saying not to do it.
"Kill him! Swing me down on him!" yelled the cleaver.
"No! Use me to break his bones!" yelled the tenderizing hammer.
"You aren’t big enough to break bones!" yelled the cleaver.
"I can break smaller bones, use me to break his fingers!" yelled the hammer, "Or his toes!"
Michael looked at the meat cleaver in his kevlar-covered hand. The safety glove and kevlar cuirass he wore were part of his work, but they looked rather strange now.
"KILL HIM!" roared the meat cleaver.
"It’ll be fun! I promise," said the hammer.
"You could use me if you want!" exclaimed the meat hook.
Michael walked forward and brought the tenderizing hammer down on the man’s ankle.
"Yes!" roared the hammer, "Again!"
He cried a muffled cry before Michael smashed his ankle again and again, until finally, the bone broke. The man could not move due to the way he was tied, but he was crying in extreme agony, and attempting, with all his might, to get away. Michael finally brought his meat cleaver down on the man’s arm, causing him to cry out in agony.
"Finally! Again! ON HIS NECK!" yelled the cleaver.
Michael brought the cleaver down on the man’s neck, causing warm blood to splash Michael’s chest and face. The man was alive for a few seconds, and he moved a bit before going still.
"Wasn’t it fun?" asked the meat cleaver.
"Yes…it was…" replied Michael.


02:44:47 Aug 11th 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

Cariosus Federal Prison

Vincent Armand Wagner was sitting on a bed in a prison cell, the door was open, and he could hear the noises outside.
"Hey there Vincie boy," said a man, causing Vincent's head to turn. The man was the same height as Vincent, and Vincent recognized him as Blood, one of his fellow assassins in the Organization.
"Hello Blood," muttered Vincent.
"You know, our superiors want you dead...for your failure, makes us look bad," said Blood.
"I didn't reveal my actual superiors, is that not good enough?" asked Vincent.
"Only perfection is good enough, sorry Skull," said Blood before approaching Vincent, a prison shank sliding from his sleeve. As he drew ever closer, Vincent rose from his bed.
"Don't make this difficult," suggested Blood.
Blood made a quick stab, and Skull used both hands to grab and twist Blood's arm. Blood punched at Skull, and Skull ducked down, twisting and throwing Blood over him. He then kicked Blood, and Blood grabbed his foot, pulling him to the ground and jumping up, stabbing at Skull as he did so. Skull grabbed Blood's arm once again, and Blood kneed the rising Skull several times before tackling him into a wall and making several quick stabs, only to discover that his shank had broken. Skull punched Blood in the face once, then again, then again, and pushed him into a wall before kneeing him and punching him several more times, causing him to fall to the floor. Skull was looking around for a potential weapon when several prison guards entered the room and pushed Skull against the wall while pulling Blood up.
"This...ain't over," muttered Blood.
"The hell it isn't!" yelled a guard as they dragged Blood away.
The two guards that were left beat Skull as a warning.


12:32:04 Aug 12th 09 - Mr. Himanil VII:

{This totally sucks, made a few k words long post and then accidentaly deleted it without even copying it once. 'll make a smaller one.]


"Make sure that it's clean, and if you get it done by the hour I may 'ave a bonus fer you."

Disgusted by the man's repelling odour Adam rapidly walked away towards his car and got inside. Revving up the engine he carefully examined he picture. Tall guy, black hair, golden eyes, somewhat thin and a wheatish complexion. The instructions were short and clear, kill the man, keep it clean and get back everything on him.

As he drove off he kept repeating to himself mentally the importance of doing smoothly all the jobs that his new employer set before him. It was his only chance to go higher up and know about the name that had been haunting him ever since he'd seen in with his to be assassin's instructions.

"Assassins," he remarked on a lighter note, "Can't even do their damned jobs properly."
Reaching the spot where it was said he'd find his target Adam disembarked and scanned the surroundings spotting his target and also some policemen to his great dismay. Struck by an inspiration Adam checked his wallet and then smiled seeing the thick wad of cash.

Adam watched the policemen block off both ends of the street but that seemed to make his target somewhat suspicious who promptly got up and started to slowly walk away. Not wanting to make it too long Adam pressed down the break as he put his foot on the accelerator causing his tires to skid and smoke to rise as he made the imprint of wheels on the ground. The stench of burning rubber had just entered Adam's nostrils when his target looked back and seeing Adam started to run for it. Adam gave chase and almost had his target under his wheels when he jumped into a sideway alley.
Adam got out with great agility and instinctively leaped for cover behind a large metal garbage can the moment he heard gunshots and heard the all too familiar whizz of bullets past his face. Swiftly Adam swung himself partially and fired a couple of shots in his target's direction who was hiding behind a car. Drawing back Adam waited patiently for his target to empty his magazine before leaping on top pf the garbage can and using his legs to propel him in the air the moment he reached it's edge. Adam saw momentarily his scared target's face as he tried to hectically reload his pistol. That moment was more than enough for Adam to empty his magazine into his target.

After dumping the target's body in his car Adam drove off after he'd checked and discovered the man to be stuffed with drugs. Thinking about the reprecussions of him killing drug dealers would have Adam unceremoniously dumped the body in front of his employer's garage and collected his 1000$ before retiring for the night.


03:42:51 Aug 14th 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

Frank Harrison woke up and rested in bed for five minutes before getting up and opening his suitcase. Inside was a blue suit, a white dress shirt, a red tie, several changes of clothes, several pairs of socks, several pairs of underwear, a pair of tennis shoes, and a pair of dress shoes. Also in the suitcase was a black skimask, a blue baseball cap, and a few hooded sweatshirts. Frank looked outside, it was cloudy, and he felt that it was cold. He took a shower before getting dressed. He put on a pair of jeans, a red shirt, and his brown hiking boots that he had been wearing the night before. Afterwards, he slid a pistol into his waistline and put on his brown leather jacket, which he had also been wearing the night before. Now dressed, Frank turned on the television.
"-everal violent murders occured last night in the Baywood district where several young men were brutally gunned down. Authorities believe that this was a solo operation, as all of the deaths were caused by the same weapon, a .44 magnum. More violence occured on the corner of 22nd and Golom street, when a tan Framington Speedwagon crashed with a black Sercom Dorave at high speeds. Four men were killed, only one was killed by the collision, the passenger; Roy Clark. Officer Robert Kenoll of the Cariosus Police Department was riding in the back when he was stabbed, probably by one of the men riding in the car with him. The other men were Anthony Sarris and Lawrence Hanson, who were brutally murdered by shots to the neck and head. Several people saw the man in the Framington Speedwagon shoot the three men before watching him speak with the dying police officer. Nobody could identify him, any information should be given to the Cariosus Police Department."
The news broadcast continued, stating that the police officer had probably been kidnapped by the others in the car, and Frank sat back. Did his actions at Norbert Banking set this off? He hoped not, since a police officer had been killed. That much violence in one night couldn't have been by chance. He then began thinking about the news. The man with the .44 magnum was probably a rather disturbing attempt at vigilante justice, but who was the man from the wreck? He had spoken with the officer, and it had seemed to be a somewhat friendly one to the onlookers. Maybe the officer had been corrupt? Maybe the men who had kidnapped him were trying to bribe him? But then, who was the man in the Speedwagon? It didn't really matter, Frank concluded. Frank was a marked man, and a lot of contracts were sure to be out on him. He didn't have much reason to go outside, why would he? It would almost be begging for somebody to come and put a bullet in his head. He would stay inside, at least until he needed some food.

But wait, what about his job? He still needed money, but that would be an obvious place to look for him, wouldn't it? Frank couldn't go there, he knew that, and he had a little saved up. It would have to last.


05:19:27 Aug 16th 09 - Mr. Rhade:

Immediately after the collision, Preston had hurried down the alleyway and down another street before doubling back towards Robert's apartment.  Hangs shaking, he pulled Robert's keys from his pocket as he walked into the apartment building and stepped onto the elevator.  Thankfully, the number of his apartment was on the key, or Preston would have needed to do some very suspicious snooping.

As the elevator ascended, Preston leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to slow his rapid breathing.  Too soon, however, the elevator door opened, and as another man stepped on, Preston was forced to act normally and step off, though keeping his head down.  Finding the door, 446, Preston prepared to unlock the door, but found that it was already unlocked and, indeed, slightly open.  Quietly, Preston opened the door to the sound of rustling papers from somewhere towards the back of the apartment.  The man, who Preston could now see was dressed the same as the men from the car, was going through Robert's desk at a frenzied pace, pulling out files and pictures.  Gun drawn, Preston approached as quietly as possible, having decided to attempt to pistol-whip the man from behind and then interrogate him.

As neared, however, the man turned partially, then whirled as he caught sight of Preston.  Startled, Preston jabbed out with his left fist, catching the unprepared man in the face.  The other man reacted quickly, however, and leapt onto Preston, forcing both men to the ground.  The stranger, who had now pinned Preston to the ground, punched him once in the face, and was preparing to hit him again when Preston reacted and brought his knee up into the stranger's crotch, making him go temporarily limp and allowing Preston to roll him off.  Grabbing the gun again, Preston brought it down fiercely into the stranger's temple as he rose and backed away.

Settling himself against Robert's desk, Preston kept his gun aimed at the stranger.  "Who are you!?"

Holding his palm to his now bleeding head, the stranger responded threateningly, "You're in a lot of fucking trouble kid."

"Oh yeah? I'm holding the gun.  Who are you!"

"I'm a cop!" spat out the stranger, "You just assaulted a police officer, and that's a hefty fine, son."

"You're a cop? Then what the hell are you doing here?"  As Preston spoke he glanced over across Robert's desk, and one picture in particular caught his eye.

"Yes! We knew Robert was in trouble, so I came over to check it out."

"Right...So where's his family?"

The cop glared back, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Preston smiled, but his eyes didn't change.  "You knew he was in trouble, but you didn't know his family was missing?  You're a dirty cop! You're in on this, yeah?"

"You've obviously got this wrong, kid.  Think about what you're doing.  I'm police!"

"Yeah, you are.  Robert knew that much.   He knew you were dirty, too." As Preston finished speaking he reached over and pulled the stranger's picture from the desk, holding it out to the dirty cop, whose name was apparently Adian Pulaski.  Across his picture was scribbled 'Cop: Dirty.  Involved?'

"Robert was on to you, what, did you find out?  Is that why you killed him?"

"We didn't touch him!"

At that Preston fired off a round from the gun he had lifted off of one of the dead men in the car, striking Adrian in the knee.  Ignoring Adrian's desperate cries of pain, Preston's glare hardened.

"We?  Shut up, I know you're involved now.  Tell me where Robert's family is being kept, and maybe I'll let you keep your other leg."

"Alright!  Alright! Sonofabitch...  Alright.  We've got this warehouse, down Solara.  We run a business out of it, but it's partially just a front for the basement.  It's a safehouse, Robert's family's there."

Pushing a number of files that Adrian had gathered into a pile and grabbing them with one hand, Preston kept his gun trained on the man as he began moving towards the door.  "You might want to get out of town, if your bosses find out you gave up info like that, I won't have to kill you."

With a smirk, Adrian responded, "Even if you did have a change of saving them, it's too late anyway.  As soon as they get Robert back to the safehouse, they're killing them all."

Preston shook his head slowly.  "You really are an idiot."  Preston pulled the trigger on the gun one last time, firing straight into the back of Adrian's neck.  While he didn't die immediately, he certainly wasn't going to live, and even then, wouldn't have been able to tell anyone what had happened.  Wiping off his the stolen gun quickly on his shirt, then lifting Adrian's gun, Preston gathered a couple more files and headed for the stairs.  He left Adrian's picture, outing him as a dirty cop, laying on his dying body.

As Preston descended he realized he now held a list of dirty cops and other crime ringleaders.  While he didn't want to consciously think about what he was going to do with a list like that, he'd already decided...


18:50:05 Aug 16th 09 - Mr. Rhade:

Preston, after having darted through a number of alleys and other less trafficked thoroughfares, finally arrived at his friend's apartment, who was eventually persuaded to give Preston a ride out to his uncle's mansion.  Upon his arrival he noted that there were more cars than usual, but shrugged it off, as sometimes his uncle would hold business meetings in the house.

Not really wanting to be seen with a stack of files naming dirty cops and such, Preston slipped in a side door and deposited them quietly in his room before making up his mind to ask his uncle about the warehouse.  If anyone give him any information, it would be his uncle.

He found his uncle with a number of men, just getting ready to go into his home office, where a number of meetings had taken place in the past.  Before entering, however, his uncle, Gerald M. Wolfe, noticed Preston and broke away from the group of men for a moment.

Greeting him warmly, though not entirely sincere, Gerald opened his arms, "Preston!  What can I do for you today?"

Speaking a little softly, "I had a question about this warehouse...I was wondering--"

His uncle cut him off, "Ah!  Business?  That can wait, I'm already involved.  I'll work with once I get done with this meeting.  I believe supper is almost ready?"

With that, Gerald walked back to his meeting, and all enclosed themselves in his office to conduct their business, leaving Preston irritated and slightly confused.  After grabbing a snack from the kitchen where dinner was, indeed, almost ready, Preston seated himself in one of the living rooms, beginning to watch TV.  He almost choked on his sandwich when he saw what the broadcast was about however, as the stunt he had pulled earlier today was now all over the news.  Not really wanting his uncle, a crime lord, to walk out and see this, Preston quickly changed the channel.  This station, however, had already picked up his scuffle at Robert's apartment.

"This incident, possibly related to the car wreck and murders earlier today, is almost undoubtedly an example of the new vigilante justice which seems to be popping up in isolated incidents across the city.  A certain Adrian Pulaski, who had worked with the police force here for over ten years, was found murdered in Robert Kenoll's apartment, who had earlier in the day been stabbed to death.  Most interestingly was the fact that, scattered across the body, there were pictures and some research on Officer Pulaski, as well as a written accusation that he was a corrupt officer, all of this presumably done by Officer Kenoll.  However, investigators put the time of death of Officer Pulaski shortly after that of Kenoll, meaning some mystery vigilante decided to dispense justice in this case.  Officer Kenoll's desk was ransacked, and a number of things appear to have been taken, also presumably research done by Kenoll into possibly corrupt individuals."

At this Preston switched off the television.  Damned police department had so many leaks that, had it been a boat, the passangers would have a better chance on their own. 

We all have a better chance on our own...the police can't do anything anymore.  This city's too far gone...but maybe...people like Frank.  I can help.

Grabbing a hoodie from his room, Preston decided to go check out the warehouse.  As he prepared to leave, however, he passed by his uncle's office one last time, and overheard bits and pieces of the conversation that stopped him in his tracks.

"--dead! Pulaski too...and Kenoll's in the hospital right now, critical condition!"

"Keep your voice down!"

The voices dropped to murmurs now, but Preston was already stuck, he had to hear more.  Moving to the other wall, he approached a vent near the cieling, having to balance precariously on the back of a couch.

"We'll take care of Kenoll, won't be too hard.  Have we killed his family yet?  No?  Then let's finish that too.  They're still in CompuCorp's warehouse, right?"

Preston immediately got down off of the couch, he had heard more than enough.  He needed to get out of the mansion, and quickly.  As he was just about to leave, however, his uncle walked out of the office and called to him.

"Preston!  What was it that you needed?  Something about a warehouse?"

Preston had to think quickly, but was able to formulate a plan somewhat rapidly in his head.  "That warehouse on Solara, it's owned by CompuCorp, right?"

His uncle nodded, with a hint of suspicion.

"It's just that...I have reason to believe that this Frank Harrison guy...he might be going after that warehouse for some reason."

"And who the hell told you that?"

"An informant...but...if Harrison does come...can I be there?  I want a shot at this guy."

Gerald stared at his nephew, still somewhat suspicious, but not suspecting the truth at all.  "Alright, but in the future you share your informants with me.  I'll call over and tell them to let you into the safehouse.  It'll get pretty fun there tonight, anyway.

Preston's mind was racing.  His plan was actually working so far!  As he turned to go, however, his uncle stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.  Heart pounding, Preston turned back.

"You might want to take better care of yourself, though.  That bruise on your face isn't flattering at all."


21:09:34 Aug 16th 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

Frank Harrison looked out his new hotel's window. He was in one of the poorer parts of the city, and every criminal in town probably wanted him dead. It wasn't the best situation he had ever been in, and it sure as hell wasn't going to cool down any time soon. He had no job, no permanent residence, and he had a criminal from the upper levels of the underworld gunning for him. He couldn’t stay in his hotel, better to fight than hide. Frank grabbed his second pistol, along with his combat knife, and put on a pair of sunglasses and a baseball hat. It would be a decent disguise for now. He walked out the door and down the set of partially rusty metal stairs. He passed several thugs on the way out, doubtlessly using the hotel as a hangout, and began walking down the cracked and broken sidewalk.
"Hey, c’mon," whispered a thug back at the hotel as he walked after Frank, trying to seem inconspicuous.
Frank heard them walking towards him, but didn’t turn his head, instead, he reached into his pocket.
"Hey, asshole! Turn around!" yelled a thug.
Frank turned around to see four thugs, all standing around six feet away, one had a pistol. Frank pulled the trigger on his own pistol, hidden in his pocket, and the bullet flew out, creating a hole as it went. The badly aimed shot hit the armed thug in the leg, and the thugs looked at him before turning their heads back, only to see Frank armed with two pistols.
"Shit!" yelled a thug before turning to run.
"Not so fast…" said Frank, "You guys made me ruin a perfectly good jacket…"

***

Patrol Officers Jim Hanson and Mike O’Leary turned a corner, only to see four thugs tied to a broken lamppost. One had a bullet wound in his leg, and the others seemed fine. Jim picked up his radio, calling for an ambulance and back-up before jumping out and approaching the tied up criminals. The officers soon discovered several warrants out for their arrest, with armed robbery and assault being a few of their charges. They also discovered that Harrison had been the one to catch them. After finding and searching his now-empty hotel, they concluded that Harrison hadn’t planned on coming back.


23:19:10 Aug 16th 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

Frank walked into a middle-class bar and sat down at a low-profile booth. He heard the name "Harrison" and turned his head to look at the television.
"The spree of vigilante activities has just grown. Four men were found tied up outside the Sunshine Hotel in the Belmorn district," the anchorman continued by giving details on each of the men, also mentioning the gunshot wound, he then continued by naming Frank a suspect, due to his now empty hotel room being around three hundred feet away. Afterwards, he gave a recap on the recent vigilante activity, with the murder of Officer Robert Kenoll, and the shooting of several greasers in the Baywood district. It also stated that Officer Kenoll’s family was missing, and Frank immediately drew conclusions based on the dirty cop pictures found on Pulaski’s body. Several dirty cops had kidnapped Kenoll’s family in an attempt to blackmail him. They had hired some thugs to kidnap him, maybe for not handing over some evidence? No, that didn’t make sense, they could’ve just broken into his apartment and taken it…but Kenoll couldn’t have been stupid enough to keep all of his evidence in one spot. Maybe he kept it in a storage, or with a friend in case of his death. No, if that were the case, then the evidence would be public by now. Unless of course they found out who the friend was. It didn’t matter, what mattered was that Kenoll had died in a car collision while being kidnapped. Who had crashed into the car? Had a friend been attempting to rescue him? Frank didn’t know, he didn’t need to know right now. What mattered was that Kenoll’s family was missing, and he owed it to the clean cop to make sure that his family didn’t die too. Without even ordering a drink, Frank walked out of the bar. He needed a lead to follow, did Pulaski have any friends?

***

"Fuck! You piece of shit! You’re dead!" yelled Officer Jack Dufour.
"You don’t even know who I am," said Frank, wearing a ski-mask and using a different voice. Dufour was blindfolded, and he had no idea that a camcorder was aimed at him. They were in an abandoned apartment, and Frank had used a white van to kidnap Dufour while he was on his way out of a coffee shop. It had taken three hours of investigating, but he had found his man.
"I’ll fuckin’ find out!" yelled Dufour.
"You’re a corrupt bastard," declared Frank.
"Corrupt? I dunno what you’re talkin’ about," said Dufour, but Frank could sense that he was nervous.
"Don’t lie to me! I saw Kenoll’s research!" yelled Frank.
"So I take a few bribes? Who doesn’t?" asked Dufour.
"Officer Kenoll," replied Frank.
"He was a goody two-shoes! Look where he is," said Dufour.
"I know where he is, where’s his family?" asked Frank.
"His family?" asked Dufour, sounding surprised, and even more nervous, "I don’t know what you’re talking about."
Frank took out his knife, pulled off Dufour’s shoe, and put his knife on Dufour’s big toe.
"Shit! Is that a knife?" asked Dufour, "You’re insane!"
"Where is his family?" asked Frank.
"I have no clue, dammit!" yelled Dufour.
Frank pushed down and put his weight on his knife, causing the knife to cut through Dufour’s big toe and the joints.
"AAAAGGGHHHHH!! YOU PSYCHO!" yelled Dufour, trying to move his well-restrained leg.
"WHERE ARE THEY!?" roared Frank.
"SHIT!" yelled Dufour.
"WHERE!?" yelled Frank as he moved the knife to Dufour’s other big toe.
"The CompuCorp warehouse!" yelled Dufour.
"Which one?" asked Frank, sounding impatient.
"It’s on Solara!" cried Dufour.
Frank pulled out his pistol, pistol-whipped Dufour into unconsciousness, and grabbed his camcorder before walking outside. That tape would be a nice bit for SNN.


18:08:11 Aug 17th 09 - Mr. Himanil VII:

Adam regulated his breathing slowly moving his hand to the trigger as his target approached the car. The target seemed to be intoxicated with drinks or at least that was what Adam judged from the way he walked. Sniping from a truck in a parking lot was something wholly new for Adam but he guessed that it was something he simply had to do.

As Adam looked through the magnifying scope on the sniper his heartbeat virtually came to a stop as everything seemed to go in slow motion, time freezed and Adam's memory seemed to rewind slowly to a cold bloody night man years ago, one that was etched in his childhood..............................

"Adam go slowly now,or you'll slip."
"It's fine father,It's not as though I'm a child now."
"You listened to your father Adam," came a stern feminine voice "Slow down now."
"Ok mother," Adam said mournfully as he walked back.
"Hello, who's that? Hey, this is private............................
A shot rang out and Adam's scream remained stuck on his throat as he saw the bullet pass through his father's head and his body go limp as he fell to the ground.

Adam watched mouth agape in abject horror as his mother was gunned down as she raced towards him trying to shield him from bullets.
As Adam stood frozen tears refusing to come several men emerged from the woods all heading in different directions. 2 came towards him even as he tried to fight them off with his puny little fists till he felt a sharp blow to his head and then blackness.

The starting of his target's car's engine brought Adam to consciousness, his brow was sweaty and his hands clammy. Quickly adjusting his aim a furious debate raged inside Adam's head as to if he ought to kill the man or not.
One voice kept screaming "KILL THE BASTARD, HE MURDERED THEM!"
While another appealed to him to capture him alive. The car drew nearer to his position as Adam still remained undecided. SHOOT HIM, screamed a voice inside his head. As the man drew closer Adam saw him clearly than ever before and was instantly overcome by a blind hatred. Squeezing the trigger repeatedly Adam pumped bullet after bullet into the target pressing the trigger long after the magazine was finished. In desperation the man swerved aside his car ending up crashing into a cemented pillar.

Chucking aside his gun Adam raced to the car and drew out the man beating the crap out of him as rage overcame him. It was the sound of alarms which brought some senses back to him prompting Adam to drag the target's limp body to the truck where Adam dumped him and drove off to his quarters.


06:35:28 Aug 18th 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

John Miller was walking home from the docks, it had seemed like a long day, but Miller was used to long days. He walked home through the lower class part of town, as usual, but on his way through he heard a noise. He looked into an alley and saw several men beating the hell out of a lone man. Inspired by Harrison's recent activities, Miller picked up a metal pipe and walked into the alley. Upon closer inspection, he saw that there were four men total, three of which were dressed in somewhat respectable clothing, and the leader was wearing a black business suit. The man in the suit waved his hand, and one man drew a silenced pistol, aimed it at the beaten man's head, and fired, causing brains, skull fragments, and blood to fly across the alley's hard floor.
"Boss, we have company," said the thug as he aimed his pistol at Miller, "Don't move!"
Miller froze, he couldn't do much with a gun aimed at him.
"Hmm, a hero, beat him," said their leader, his voice seemed commanding and charismatic, though it lost the charisma with the violent order. The three thugs closed in on Miller, and Miller raised his pipe in defiance. The thugs laughed, and Miller jumped at one, only to be beaten by another. He turned around, smashing the one who had punched him in the shoulder. He then found himself being punched by all three at once, while their leader watched, his face unemotional. Miller didn't give up, every time the beating ceased, he attempted to rise, only to be kicked back down. Bones broke, blood flowed freely, but he still defied their beatings.
"Stop," ordered their leader as he walked closer, "Have you learned not to interfere?"
"No," coughed Miller, along with a bit of blood.
"Give him my mark," ordered their leader.
One man pulled Miller up from his laying position while another pulled out a knife and pushed it into Miller's forehead. He created a deep cut from Miller's right forehead to Miller's right cheek. Miller fell to the ground, blood from his multiple wounds pouring onto the cement. Without any words, the leader of the group stepped out onto the sidewalk and into the back of a black sedan. The other men entered as well, and the car drove off, leaving Miller to bleed in the dark alleyway.

***

Patrick Kephart rose from his bed and walked across to the other apartment. He proceeded to knock on a door. A woman of plain looks answered, and she looked as if she had been severely beaten recently.
"Patrick, hello," said the woman.
"Hello Gracie, are you alright?" asked Patrick.
"I am, have you heard? Those thugs that beat me, they're dead," said Gracie, seeming somewhat sad.
"I did, and you seem upset?" asked Patrick.
"They were human beings, they didn't deserve to die, even if they did beat me around a bit. It doesn't feel right talking to you in my doorway, come in," said Gracie.
Patrick stepped inside, and looked at Gracie.
"Gracie, they raped you," said Patrick.
"They didn't deserve death, regardless," said Gracie, "I should be the one making judgement, it happened to me, remember?"
"Yes, I know," admitted Patrick, "They probably won't be missed."
"They had mothers, sisters, brothers, and fathers, they were punks, not demon-spawn," said Gracie, "Let's not talk of this anymore...would you like something to drink?"
"I'm fine," said Patrick.
"Lets watch a movie," suggested Gracie, "A good cowboy movie is on in half an hour."
"Sure," said Patrick, though not in the least bit interested in watching his favorite genre of motion pictures at the moment.


02:01:01 Aug 19th 09 - Mr. Himanil VII:

"I've got all day with me," came Adam's barely controlled wrathful voice.
The poor heap of a man with 3 bullets in him lay on the floor in a pool of his own blood yelping occasionally in pain as Adam's foot made contact with the bullet wound in his side.
In a fit of paroxysm Adam inserted his finger in the wound by the man's chest. The man screamed in a way he'd never screamed before. It was a horrific shriek that came only when the base instinct of man kicked into play- survival.
Bringing himself down to the level of the man Adam started to speak, "You know, my day job is that of a common military mugger," "But my night job," continued Adam as he pressed the wound deeper and the man cried out louder "Is that of a doctor."
"So, if you want me getting back to my day shift then you'd best better give me some names and fast."
The man barely alive now muttered Harrison Laboratories and something about some high ranking government officials, the rest was an incomprehensible blabber.

Convinced that he wasn't going to get anything more out of him Adam went to a rope and pulled hard which was tied to the man's hands. As the man got lifted in the air amidst piteous cries for mercy Adam tied the rope to a nail shoved in the wall before walking up to the man with a crowbar in hand.
"You enjoyed killing them, didn't you? DID YOU?," he yelled as tears came into his eyes.
"I'm going to do the same to you now except that you'll physically feel the pain that tortured me mentally for all these years. Your suffering, true, will nothing next to mine but nevertheless Justice will be dispensed. Oh yes, it will be."
Looking hard at the man for some sign of response an infuriated Adam thrust the crowbar right into the man lower abdomen till it's end caught hold of the semulinar ganglion, feeling it properly Adam pulled back hard. Immediately a massive gash appeared in the man's side as his kidney, descending colon and splanchic nerve all came crashing out with blood pouring out by the bucket load. The hideous scream of the man now was no longer that of a man but of a animal, a hunted animal about to die.
"Feeling the pain," yelled Adam as he ripped out the man's stomach and proceeded further down.
So great the pain was now that the man seemed to have lost all sense of sensation and went deadly quiet as he eventually fainted. The lack of pain enraged Adam who had been deriving a sadistic kind of pleasure from dispensing justice to the man. Beating the man blue and black or rather red and black Adam got covered with blood as an evil mad light erupted in his eyes.

Before Adam could proceed the sound of sirens and violent knocking of the door prompted Adam to look one last time at the man or at least what remained of him before breaking the window and fleeing into the dark city, feeling for the first time a part of it as he embraced it's dark and cruel side full on.


08:17:49 Aug 19th 09 - Mr. Rhade:

"Did you bring a gun with you?"

Preston shook his head, despite the pistol already tucked in his waistline.  He had no idea what he was going to do yet, but extra firepower could hurt.  The man standing in front of him motioned to two men in black suits standing a few feet away, one of whom produced his gun from his jacket, handing it to Preston.  After quickly examining the weapon, he slid it into the front of his pants, after making very sure that the safety was on.

This all took place on the warehouse floor, where a number of employees were currently at work.  The warehouse was large, holding a number of electronic components in rows and rows of large, metal shelves.  While it would have been possible to sneak through this floor relatively easily, the number of workers around made Preston glad that he had been able to use his uncle to get in.  None of them looked twice as the gun was exchanged, which made Preston realize that they were perfectly used to transactions of this kind.  While they didn't seem to be involved in whatever went on underground, they certainly knew that there was something criminal going on here.  In this city though...where could you go where there wasn't?

The man in charge who had secured the gun for Preston, by the name of Alex Sergeevna, known in the criminal world as a very intelligent, though slightly pompous, leader.  He motioned for Preston to follow him and, as he did, the two other men fell in step behind them.

"We'll have that cop's family taken care of before Harrison gets here.  I don't want anything going wrong.  He may be smart, but we know he's coming.  We'll have some guys waiting for him."

As they descended the stairs in the back of the warehouse, Preston slowed.  "Are we not going to the family first?"

Alex shook his head, "I don't like the dirtier parts of this job, so I let other people take care of it.  For men of my caliber, such tasks are best left to others."

"If you don't mind...I'd like to be there."  They had reached the bottom of the stairs, and Alex turned, somewhat surprised by Preston's request.  "It's just that..I don't have much experience in this sort of thing yet, and my uncle wants me to be more involved.

Alex shrugged, "Whatever you'd like."  He nodded at the guard who had given Preston his gun, and walked off down a hallway to the right.  The guard walked off in the other direction, apparently expecting Preston to follow him, which Preston did.  The two passed a number of rooms which were mostly shut, though one door had been slightly open.  In that room he had seen a man sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, wearing nothing but boxers and a blindfold, and bleeding from multiple cuts on his body.  Some kind of prisoner, which Preston filed away for later.  If the man had any sanity left, he might make a good, if angry, ally, at least for a short amount of time.

There were only a few more doors left in the hallway when the guard stopped at one on the left.  He pushed the door open, and walked into the room, where Preston saw Robert's wife and daughter tied to chairs, back to back, and not looking very healthy.  Still fully clothed, at least.

Also in the room were three other men, one of whom already had a gun drawn, just waiting on their official orders to dispatch their charges so that they could get back to whatever other lawbreaking was on their plate.  All the guard had to do was nod at the man with the gun before he immediately walked over to the woman and girl.  He first removed their blindfolds, grinning widely.  Preston had no doubt that he would've enjoyed these murders...he had to find some way to stop them.

As the man stepped back and raised his gun, he looked back at the other men.  "Ten dollars says I can get them both in one shot.  Yeah?"

One of the other men chuckled, and replied that he'd take that bet.  Preston's rage was growing, especially as he saw the incredibly fearful looks in the females' eyes.  Time seemed to slow down as the man with the gun turned his head and leveled his gun at Robert's wife, finding the right angle to try and kill both.  Not able to let it go any further, Preston blurted out "Wait!" with no real plan still.

The man with the gun simply rolled his eyes and drawled out "Fuuck.  I knew it was a bad idea to let this kid come in.  I told you all he'd get cold feet!"

Preston simply glared, "Think again.  It's just that...I want to try it."

"Bullshit.  You want to execute these girls?  What the hell woman fucked you up?"  The man shrugged, "Would've been fun, but I have to see this."

With that, he grabbed the barrel of his gun and held it out to Preston.  Preston nodded, walked over and took it slowly.  This left two of the four men in the room unarmed...and Preston holding three guns.  He couldn't have planned it any better.

"You were doing it wrong, anyway," said Preston as he stepped around to the girl's side of the chairs.  "Her head'll be softer, make it easier to get through both."

As he said that, and raised the gun, the look she was giving him was completely rending his heart.  She'd hopefully be thanking him soon, however.  Closing his eyes and breathing heavily, Preston glanced up at the men again.  The two armed men were standing in the middle, while the guard stood closer to the door, opposite the man who'd also given up his gun.

Steeling himself, Preston addressed the man.  "How's this for cold feet?"

Raising his gun, Preston fired one relatively well aimed shot into the chest of the armed man on the right, at the same time pulling one of his other guns from the front of his waistline.  Raising that one as well, he fired two slightly more hastily at the other armed man, one missing completely, and the other striking him in the shoulder.  He finished him off with one pull from his right hand, however, the bullet flying through his left eye.

The man on the far right, who was originally going to shoot the two girls, was still frozen, so Preston turned his guns on the guard, who was now attempting to get out of the door.  He'd been standing on the wrong side of it, however, and was not able to get out of the door quickly enough to dodge the bullets.  One ripped through his left shoulder-blade, as the other two destroyed his stomach and intestines.  While not dead, he was certainly dying, and wouldn't be doing any damage to anyone soon, so with that Preston turned to the right again, staring down the man.

"What the hell, man?  What the hell are you doing?"

Preston smirked.  "I'm taking care of business.  Doing what the police either wouldn't, or couldn't do because of the massive corruption in this city.  Robert was a good man from what I gathered in the short time I knew him.  To watch him die, and then be forced to watch his family die too...none of them deserved any of this.  You, however, deserve this."  Preston pulled both triggers as he finished, firing one bullet straight into the heart of the man as the other struck him somewhere mid-torso.  He checked the other two men for signs of life, and then walked over to the guard, firing one shot with the muzzle of the gun close to the back of his head.

Finishing, and wiping the blood spatter on the dead man's clothing, Preston walked over to the women.  They were terrified of him, and he didn't blame them.  He untied them, however, and handed one of his guns to the woman.

"Your husband died...I knew him for a very short time, but he told me what these people did to you, and to him.  He was a good man, and I'm sorry.  I'll try to get the two of you out of here..."

Robert's wife shook her head.  "I'm not leaving yet, I can't."

Shocked, Preston sputtered, "What?"

At that moment, however, the little girl screamed, and Preston turned just in time to see a man standing in the doorway and aiming a gun at him, giving Preston just enough time to begin a dive to the right.  Bullets are rather speedy, however, and the man was able to fire off a shot at Preston anyway, which struck him in the left arm.  Had he not been able to dive, Preston probably would have been dead right then, but even now he was on the ground and had dropped both of his weapons in the bright flash of pain that had accompanied the bullet.  As the man in the doorway leveled his gun at Preston once again, a shot rang out.  The man fell to the ground, clutching at his throat, until another shot took off a part of his head, ending his struggle.  Surprised, Preston looked over to see Mrs. Kenoll shaking with anger, and still holding her gun at the doorway.

"I can handle myself.  I need to protect my daughter, however, so let's hurry.  I won't leave until we free the other people they're keeping here, and deal with the man who runs this warehouse.  I can't go anywhere until he's dead."

The utter lack of emotion, aside from twitches of anger, in the womans face haunted Preston, and he readily agreed to what she said.  He hadn't really planned on going further than just rescuing Kenoll's family...but...

Preston kept a watch at the door as the woman, whose name, he had learned, was Emile, tore strips from one of the deceased men's shirts to use as a bandage until Preston could get better help.  Apparently the noise of the gunshots hadn't carried very far down the hallway, which made sense, since the building had been constructed with this sort of soundproofing in mind.

After a very painful wrapping of the injury, which had both and entry and exit wound, which relieved Preston, they were ready to go.  While he might be able to use his left arm at the expense of a lot of pain and possible further damage to his arm, Preston preferred not to, and so let Emile take the other gun as well, though he tucked an extra from one of the dead men into his waistline again.

"Alright," said Preston, looking at the determined woman before him.  "Let's go."


09:04:17 Aug 19th 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

***Thirty minutes before Preston infiltrated the warehouse and killed the would-be executioner*

Frank Harrison crept up behind a perimeter guard, his combat knife in his left hand, a pistol in the other, both held in a type of strange grip that allowed the user access to his knife for close quarters, while still being able to use his pistol. Frank grabbed the guard and stabbed him in the lower back.
"Mfffm!" cried the guard as his life faded away, his dark soul journeying into the afterlife. Frank dragged him away from his former position, and suddenly, the guard’s radio sounded.
"Ten-minute check," said the man who was probably in the control room, "Password."
Frank dropped the body and began searching it, hoping to find the password on a sheet of paper, or a PDA, or something.
"Ten-minute check," repeated the man over the radio.
Frank pulled a full sheet of blood-stained printer paper out of the man’s cargo pants and read.
"Yellow flowers in the field," read Harrison.
"Confirmed, be quick next time," said the man.
"I was takin’ a piss," said Harrison.
"Right…"
Harrison grabbed the guard’s submachine gun, along with a few clips of ammunition. He also grabbed the radio, just in case, and proceeded to examine the body. The guard had been dressed in plain street clothes and a ski-mask, excellent. Frank pulled his own ski-mask over his head and began guarding the former sentry’s post.

***Twenty-five minutes later***

"Shift over, report to the warehouse underworks for guard duty," said the control room operator.
During his "shift", Frank had hidden the body quite well. It wouldn’t be discovered by the next guard, at least not for a few days. Frank walked "back" to the warehouse gate, which was opened for him.
"What’s the quickest way to the underworks from here?" asked Frank, "Just got transferred here."
"I know how you feel, through that door, then turn right. You’ll see some stairs going down. Bingo!" exclaimed the gatekeeper.
"Thanks," said Frank as he continued through the door.
Frank turned right, and began walking down the stairs when a voice called out behind him.
"Halt!" exclaimed the voice.
Frank stopped in his tracks, and turned.
"Come with me," said man.
"Yes sir," said Frank as he followed the man down the stairs. The man seemed important, and as Frank followed and saw several nods at him, he realized that the man was probably the boss. The "boss" took several more men with him, amounting to around six men total, as he walked through the corridors. They soon arrived at a room, and one of the men opened it, revealing a bloody scene. The boss walked inside, with his men, and surveyed the scene.
"Dammit! Harrison was here!" yelled the boss, "How the hell’d he sneak by?"
The heavy door closed, and the boss reached for his radio to begin an alert. Frank finally put together what had happened, and knew he couldn’t let the man put out his call. Frank raised his submachine gun and fired, putting three shots in the boss’s head, he then turned around and sprayed the other five men with a whole clip of ammunition before they could react to the pure shock of being shot at by a friendly. Frank grabbed several more spare clips of ammunition from the dead guards, loaded one into his submachine gun, and walked outside, checking himself carefully for blood before he did so.


19:31:54 Aug 19th 09 - Mr. Rhade:

Preston had taken Emile and her daughter from room to room shortly after dealing with the men who would've killed them.  In the first few rooms they had found nothing.  In the fourth room Preston walked into, however, he found an incredibly bloody scene before him.  There was a man laying out on a table and Preston couldn't imagine that his flayed body was still alive, but he quickly made a mental note to call paramedics along with police as soon as they got out of this place.

Not wanting Emile or her daughter to see the carnage, he simply turned around and shook his head as he shut the door.  It was sort of disheartening that they hadn't found any other prisoners yet, but Preston realized that that meant that less people had been suffering in the first place.

Finally they pushed into the room where Preston had seen the blindfolded and bloody man earlier, and closed the door behind them.  As Preston moved over to the man, he instructed Emile to listen at the door and alert him if anyone went by.  If a guard went into the room they had just left...the alarm would be raised in a matter of seconds.  If Emile did happen to miss it, Preston had lifted a radio from the guard as well as his gun, so they would know immediately.

Turning his attention to the bound man in the chair, he slowly lifted the blindfold.  The man reacted instantly, having somehow slipped his feet out of the rope that had been holding them, shot out his legs and wrapped them around Preston's.  He twisted and pulled back, causing his chair to topple over along with Preston, but stopped cold when he found himself staring at a little girl instead of other guards.

Preston, realizing that he'd never mentioned that he wasn't with the criminals, took this opportunity.  "We're here to help!"

Standing up, and righting the man's chair, he untied his hands, and as the man moved to take the bloody gag from his mouth, Preston stayed him for a moment.  "Make sure that you keep quiet, there's still guards around, and we have to find a way out of here."

Feeling a great sense of really sad irony, the man pulled the gag out, then opened his mouth to Preston, who immediately turned away, close to gagging.  The man's tongue had been mangled and eventually cut mostly off by whoever had been torturing him.  While it had later been cauterized to stop the bleeding, it still looked infected and very unhealthy.  This man would certainly need medical attention after they got him out.

Preston merely nodded, and before they could get any further, Emile whispered his name.  Preston moved to the door, and heard a couple of voices as well as a number of steps moving past.  How many was it?  Three, four?  No good, either way.  Waiting for them to get into the room wouldn't work...sneaking four people out past an alerted warehouse was nearly impossible.  They needed another way out, but they needed to find that way first, before they went randomly wandering around.

So...they waited.  Preston figured his best plan at this point would be to wait for them to leave the hallway again, or at least to kill them as they tried to get into this room, which provided them some very limited cover.  He had peeked into the hallway a couple of times, and seen noone after the group had entered the room, but a man had eventually come back into the hallway, wielding some kind of automatic weapon.

Preston waited, having decided to use this guard, wearing a ski mask, as their source of information for the way out.  With his left arm injured, though, he'd be no good in close combat...he'd have to take him with the threat of his gun alone.  As the steps quietly passed, with the door slightly open Preston was able to see the shadow as well, Preston waited.  It had been a risk having the door open at all, but otherwise the soundproofing would have not allowed them to hear the man.  Quietly, after he was sure that the man was slightly pass the door, Preston opened it completely and raised his gun towards the man's head.

Quietly, Preston got his attention, "Stop.  If you make a noise, I'll shoot you.  Keep your hands up and away from the gun, and back into this room.  Alert anybody, and you're finished."

Frank Harrison slowly complied, questions running through his head.  One of the criminals wouldn't be doing this, they'd have no need to be quiet...

As the man backed into the room, Preston never took his eyes gun off of him.  "Emile..go get his gun.  You do anything to her, I'll blow you apart."

That name...it was clearing up for Frank.  Emile had been the name of Robert's wife.  The person who'd killed the other guards, he was still here.

As Emile collected Frank's gun, he slowly turned, wanting to make sure.  After he saw what he'd been hoping for, Robert's daughter, he had no doubt left.

Preston spoke first, "You're going to tell us how to get out of here, now.  What's the quickest way out?"

Frank nodded.  "I'll do it, don't worry.  My name is Frank Harrison, I'm here for the same reason you are."  At that he began to slowly move his hands towards the bottom of his mask, preparing to reveal his face.

Preston gaped slightly, still aiming at Frank.  He'd told his uncle that Frank was coming here, but he'd never expected to actually run into Frank here.  The guards had even been alerted that Harrison was coming, and he still managed his way in?  As Frank removed his ski mask Preston recognized him and lowered his gun.

"How did you get in here?  And how'd you find out about this place?"

Frank, feeling a little calmer without a gun aimed at his head, responded, "There was a news report, and I looked into it.  It led me here.  I assume the room we walked into down there was your handiwork?  Either way, it doesn't matter.  There's a number of guards that won't be checking in soon, and we need to get them out."

Preston nodded, "That's what I was thinking.  No way we can out out through the warehouse floor though, I've been through it and there's way too many workers."

Frank shook his head, "That wouldn't work, but I came in a different way, and I've got a van parked just outside the fence towards the back."

"Alright," Preston replied.  "I've got a fair amount of confidence in you, everything considered.  Name's Preston, by the way."

"Frank, let's go," and with that, he pulled the ski mask back down, there'd be time to worry about names and other questions later, assuming they got out.  He certainly had a few questions for Preston.  "I'm still dressed as a guard, so I'll go ahead of you.  If I'm spotted it won't matter, but I'd prefer we not raise the alarm earlier than it's going to happen anyway."

Preston nodded and motioned for everyone to get ready as Frank checked the hallway and walked out the door, carrying his gun again and acting just like a guard on patrol.  After making sure that the tortured man could still walk, Preston walked into the hallway too, waiting for the motion from Frank before heading down the hallway past the original stairs he had come down.  It wasn't a very long walk, and with Frank in the lead, it was rather uneventful as well.  Eventually they all reached the stairs that Frank had come in through, and turned to the left, locating the door which led to the outside. 

At this point Frank pulled a key from his pocket and handed it to Preston.  "I'm going to head for the perimeter and try to make a distraction, away from this area.  You've got the radio, so once the guards are called to my position, make a break for it.  I cut a hole in the fence that way," said Frank, motioned towards the back, "and the van is just beyond that."

Preston and Frank nodded at each other, and Preston brought his gun up as he waited by the door.  Frank was either really brave or really stupid, but seeing what he'd accomplished so far, he didn't seem stupid at all.


19:49:02 Aug 19th 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

Frank Harrison ran off, his submachine gun in his hand, several clips in his pockets, and two back-up pistols in his waistline. He was ready for a firefight, he silently wished he had a KA-50 assault rifle, but what he had would work. He ran to the perimeter and got behind a large rock. He then pulled off his ski-mask, shoved it in his pocket, and began firing on the warehouse. The shots alerted several guards, and an alert went out.
"Frank Harrison is here! Everybody report to the east perimeter! Those who don't fight will join that bitch down below!" yelled a control room operator as reinforcements were sent to the east perimeter. Frank blindfired, and waited behind the rock as around fifteen guards all arrived at the concrete divider just outside the warehouse, using it as cover. Frank stayed behind the rock, he didn't dare blindfire, he simply fired his submachine gun into a tree. That proved enough to get the enemies firing.
"Stop firing! Stop firing!" yelled somebody of rank as the bullets bounced dangerously off the rock back at the guards.


18:14:09 Aug 20th 09 - Mr. Rhade:

As the radio came to life with the sound of pleas and threats for help, Preston lead the small group out the door and began making their way carefully towards the perimeter fence.  He decided to stick close to the building, as Emile had pointed out a guard, leaving his post on the perimeter fence, moving quickly to the east.

Making sure that the man never noticed them as he went, Preston was eventually sure that the man was never going to turn back, and continued along the wall.  As they neared the corner, however, Preston was looking back, and didn't notice two men come running around the corner, sub-machine guns already in their hands.  Thankfully, Emile had been paying attention and also had her gun ready, but was mostly inaccurate, only striking one man in the lower stomach and mid-torso, and missing the other completely.

The one who had been struck by the bullets had, out of pain, dropped his weapon and crumpled, though the other man had recovered from his shock and began to pull the trigger on his weapon as he turned it to aim at the group.  The man whom they had rescued from the building, badly tortured and with little to no tongue, however, had grabbed the gun tucked into the back of Preston's waistline as soon as he had noticed the men, and now fired two bullets.  Both struck nearly perfectly, one between the eyes and the other about an inch down and right, through the man's cheekbone.  This caused his spray of bullets to divert harmlessly to the right of the group.

Preston had intentionally not given the mute man a gun, but as he tried to hand it back now, Preston refused.  The man had more than proven himself.  The rest of the trip to the van was uneventful, and aside from minor scratches getting through the hole in the fence, everyone made it no worse off than when they left the building.  Preston gave the van a quick check, noticing with approval that Frank had managed to weld some steel plating on the inside of the van's sides.  That would provide them with a lot of protection if things got nasty at any point.

After getting everyone into the van, Preston began to drive forward slowly, approaching the street where Frank would end up if he managed to make it out his own way.  As per the plan, Preston would wait, but if the radio went off that Frank was down...the group would have to be off.


19:14:40 Aug 20th 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

Frank was hiding behind the rock still when headlights flashed in the distance. The signal, they were out! Frank fired a burst over the rock to make the enemy go for cover and quickly ran off into the darkness, with the enemies still thinking that he was behind the rock. Frank ran through the trees, keeping a sharp lookout for any other guards, but he doubted it. He had made sure to kill any flankers during the firefight, and that had discouraged the idea. When he reached the fence, he realized that it wasn't cut. Which would make sense. Frank looked up, there was barbed wire at the top. Frank stuck his combat knife in the fence and pulled down, making a large tear. He then crawled through, making several large cuts as he did so. Once out, Frank ran over to the back doors of the van, which were quickly opened, and hopped in the back.
"Go! Go! Go!" yelled Frank as he shut the back doors.


17:51:49 Aug 26th 09 - Mr. Rhade:

((OOC: Big lag is definitely my bad...))

Preston gunned the acceleration, and the van lurched forward with a speed that he hadn't been expecting.  After driving a few blocks at high speed, he slowed quickly and took a sharp right into a wide alley.  On the way through, he struck a trashcan that looked like it had been used recently for a fire, and one man had to jump out of the way rather quickly, but aside from that the van made it through alright.  Preston looked back at the man whom they had rescued from the basement of the warehouse.  His tongue had been in bad shape, and he needed real medical attention.  While Preston's arm could be dealt with outside of a hospital, this guy's problem couldn't be fixed quite as easily.

"We're going to have to drop you at a hospital.  I'm sorry, but that's really the best we can do right now.  I'm pretty sure I just got completely on the bad side of organized crime..."

the man didn't look very happy, be he didn't object, either.  Preston took another right and began to make his way towards Cariosus General Hospital.

"So...Frank Harrison...  Got any other plans?"


18:28:51 Aug 26th 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

"Not at the moment, this was just about it," said Harrison as got up, "It was Preston, right?"


02:37:21 Aug 27th 09 - Mr. Himanil VII:

{Terribly sorry that I've been unable to post but it might just be the topic of the RP or something wrong with me because of which I'm having to force myself to write.]


19:00:03 Aug 27th 09 - Mr. Rhade:

Preston nodded back as he drove, "Yeah, Preston Wolfe.  Now that I think about it though...I kind of wish I had lifted some of those guys' wallets..."

Emile looked sternly at Preston, and he took notice.  "Look, what we're gotten involved in here...it kind of changes the rules.  Yeah, I shouldn't steal money from anyone, but they weren't good guys in the first place, and since we left it there it's just going to go back into criminal hands..."

Come to think of it...we probably should have just torched the whole place, too.  If my uncle had thought I died in a fire or something... well...he wouldn't come looking for me quite as hard.

"We need to take you and your daughter someplace safe.  They lost you, and since they were just going to kill you anyway, they won't come after you."  Probably.  "Frank and I, though, we've hurt them, and they'll want revenge.  It'll be best if we just drop you at a hotel or something, but I'll figure out a way to keep in contact in case you need something."

They were rapidly approaching the Hospital now, and Preston turned back to the mute.  "Listen, I'm sorry to have to do this to you, but they've seen the van and we've got to keep moving.  When we pull up, we just have to drop you and split, got it?"

The mute man nodded back, then turned his head away, moving towards the sliding door as he did.  Shortly after, Preston was speeding away down the street again, leaving the mute man to make it on his own.

***

Lyle turned, having watched the van take off, he now had to deal with the hospital.  Lyle...that name didn't really seem to fit anymore.  That name was for a man who'd had a tongue...a man who'd had a voice.  He was still in a lot of pain, though, and right now he just wanted that taken care of.  As he walked into the emergency room and opened his mouth as the receptionist asked him what the problem was, she immediately called for a doctor, and in a bustle of activity, Lyle was taken immediately back.  He'd worry about the rest of it later...


00:02:38 Aug 28th 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

Frank Harrison been silently analyzing the situation for a while, and had deduced that Preston had been affiliated with the criminals in the warehouse, and his Uncle probably still was. Based on how the bodies in the interogation room were, Preston was probably near the chair when he turned around and shot the other men in the room. That meant that they had trusted him, maybe even enough to perform the execution. No, he was the executioner. He had been trusted because he was the nephew of a criminal, and had learned of Kenoll because he had obviously met Kenoll before his death on 22nd and Golom street, and had attempted, and failed, to stop his death. However, he knew where Kenoll lived, and that was enough to make him go back to Kenoll's apartment. It was there that he found a corrupt police officer, doubtlessly attempting to get rid of the evidence of corruption. After killing him, Preston learned all of what Kenoll learned, and amongst that intel was probably the location of the warehouse. Preston couldn't simply walk up to the warehouse? Or could he? How high had Preston been in his Uncle's organization before? He'd have to ask. But he would continue thinking for now. Preston got into the warehouse, and must've somehow been assigned as the executioner, he probably requested it. Afterwards, he killed the men in the room in a surprise gun-draw and took Kenoll's wife and daughter to another room. That was when Frank found them. It seemed to make sense, Frank would fill in any gaps with Preston, but he liked figuring out things himself.
"Preston, who is your Uncle, and what does he do?" asked Harrison.


17:19:10 Aug 31st 09 - Mr. Rhade:

Preston's mouth twitched slightly at the question, and he kept driving.

"My uncle...he works for CompuCorp.  That warehouse back there?  They owned it.  He's a pretty high up enforcer in the criminal world...highest CompuCorp's got."

Preston looked back, and Frank nodded, furrowed his brow, then seemed about to ask another question, opening his mouth to speak.  Preston however, beat him to it.

"Yeah, I was involved at first.  Low level, never anything big.  Pickpocketing, breaking in to a few places, mostly just getting info on their competitors, never hurting anybody.  I'd still be there, too, and probably worse, if it weren't for what you started.  Officer Kenoll and I...we were both in your apartment that day the assassins came after you.  We were supposed to be there for the same reason..."

Emile let out a slight gasp at this, and Preston didn't dare look back at Frank, so he kept his eyes on the road, "Kenoll was there because that was the deal they'd offered him...you for his family.  I was there to make my move in the criminal underground, to get noticed.  Call it fate, call it fear, or maybe a sudden injection of morals, I don't know.  Probably just fear...but you've certainly inspiried some part of this city that hasn't been here for years.  Neither of us could, or wanted to, try to go through with what we were there for, so we left.  By the time we made it to his place, though, they were waiting for him, and that ended rather messily." 

Preston looked over at Emile, who was in tears at this point, though crying silently.  "I tried to save him...I did.  Those men who killed him...they knew my uncle too.  After that, I figured that since Kenoll was gone, the least I could do to try to make up for everything I'd already done was to save you two...his family.  He was willing to give up so much for you...I figured you were worth the same sacrifice from me..."

Unsure really of what else to say, Preston simply concentrated on driving again.


18:11:11 Aug 31st 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

"It makes sense," muttered Frank, filling the remaining gaps in his interpretation of what happened, he then sat silently as he continued thinking, and remembering what he knew of CompuCorp. CompuCorp was massive, around four-hundred thousand employees assigned to things ranging from customer service to the electronics manufacturing, with the only Corporations rivaling them in size being Robinson Industries, Sercom Enterprises, and LanCo. CompuCorp’s revenue was around one hundred billion dollars a year, with a profit of around fifteen million. Their CEO and Chairman was Ethan Korl, a charismatic and intelligent man, but Harrison didn’t know much more than that. He would learn more when he found a safehouse, and would make a tree soon after. He had no idea where that would go, Preston would be a good help for that. They soon arrived at an apartment complex, and Harrison stepped out and walked to the front, helping Emile  by carrying her daughter. He had Preston get the room, as Harrison was a wanted man, and walked up to it a few minutes later. Harrison put down his submachine gun, took out one of his two pistols, and kept the other.
“Alright, I’ll stay awake and keep watch, you guys get some sleep, we’ll figure out what we’ll do next tomorrow” said Harrison, he was tired, but Kenoll’s family needed it more, and Preston looked like crap.

 

***

 

Ethan Korl, wearing a nice black suit, a white shirt, and a red tie, stepped into his office at the top floor of the CompuCorp building, and was somewhat shocked to see a familiar bald man in a white business suit staring at him.
“Greetings, Mr. Korl,” said the bald man.
“Mr. X, how did you get in here?” asked Korl.
“Have a seat,” said Mr. X, gesturing towards a seat opposite Korl’s usual seat.
Korl approached, fearful of what Mr. X would say. He sat down in the red leather seat, and Mr. X was still for a moment, his eyes concealed behind a pair of blood red sunglasses.
“Mr, Korl, as you well know, a man by the name of Francis Harrison infiltrated one of your warehouses, killed several of your men, and escaped with Robert Kenoll’s wife and daughter. Explain how,” said Mr. X.
“Kenoll? Who the hell is he?” asked Korl.
“Are you really that ignorant of your own Corporation’s activities?” asked Mr. X.
“I prefer not to know,” replied Korl.
“You would take care to, in the future, insure that your warehouse security is something above horrible,” said Mr. X.
“Yes, sir,” said Korl, “What should I do about Harrison?”
“That is your concern, mine is that my facilities are kept secure,” replied Mr. X as he stood up and walked to Korl’s window overlooking Cariosus.
“Oh, and Mr. Korl,” added Mr. X, turning around.
“Yes?” asked Korl.
“Make certain that the incident is covered up with all due haste, and that the families of the guards are told a convincing story,” said Mr. X.
“What should I tell them?” asked Korl as he looked up, and saw nobody there.

 


17:35:17 Sep 1st 09 - Mr. Rhade:

"Alright," Preston said, as Harrison began tearing a makeshift bandage for Preston's arm.  "If you're going to be up anyway...I have some light reading for you."

As Preston finished speaking, he pulled a few folded up pages of paper from an inner pocket of his pants.  "This is some of Kenoll's research, and it details a few of the lower level guys.  I dropped off the rest of it, along with some stuff on CompuCorp that I snatched from my uncle's house, at a friend's apartment.  We can pick it up later.  For now, these guys will serve us best.  They might not know much, but they can start us up the chain."

Preston grimaced slightly as Harrison cleansed his wound, then applied the bandage.

Harrison nodded, "I'll check it out.  Your arm's going to hurt for a long time, but don't do anything to tear it open again, and it'll heal up just fine.  Now get to sleep."

At this point, Preston couldn't wait to do just that..

***

Lyle sat waiting in an operating room, though there were no doctors or nurses with him, and he'd been given little attention other than some pain killers once the hospital realized exactly what had happened to him.  Lyle's tongue had been cut out.

In this city, that meant one thing, really.  That he'd had information which could hurt the criminal organizations, and that he'd tried to put it to use.  Unfortunately for him, Lyle had gone to the wrong cop.  That cop informed a buddy, who told a friend, who...so on and so forth.  By the end of the day, Lyle had found himself knocked unconscious when a car drove by, and someone leaned out the window with a bat.  When he awoke, he was bound and gagged, and had no tongue.  There had been more torture after that, of course, just to teach him a lesson, but once he'd found out about his tongue..something had just shut off inside.  That's what you got for trying to go through the "right" channels of doing stuff in this city.  That's all anyone could get doing things that way.

The lack of attention to him, however, was beginning to worry Lyle.  In the beginning, having seen the infection, the nurse had nearly flipped.  Now, nothing was happening.  Suspicious, Lyle rose and approached the door, cracking it slightly.  To his surprise, the doctor who was supposed to treat him was right outside, but arguing with the nurse who had originally taken care of him.  he could hear their conversation now, but he had missed some.

"--eady called them, it's too late now.  You know the deal we have with them, and you know how important it is for us."

The nurse tried to argue back, "But we--"

"We have to.  They don't mess with the hospital, it runs on its own, no criminals involved.  In return, we let them know if we get a case like this.  This guy probably worked for them, anyway.  Listen, I know it sucks sometimes, but this whole city is corrupted, and we're doing our best to keep it out of this hospital."

The nurse, eyes burning, shook her head.  "This hospital already is corrupted," and with that she walked away, leaving the doctor only slightly shocked.

Lyle quietly let the door close, then moved back.  So they were coming for him already...alright.  This time, he'd be ready for them.


17:49:27 Sep 1st 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

*5:23 AM*

 

Patrick Kephart was staring into a man’s eyes as he knelt ten feet in front of him, Kephart’s .44 magnum was aimed at his head.
“Please, I won’t do it again,” said the man, referring to his rape and murder of an eight-year-old girl.
“I don’t care,” said Kephart, “Once was enough.”
Kephart pulled the trigger, the hammer flew forward, and the bullet was propelled through the barrel and through the air. It crashed through the rapist’s skull with extreme force, and caused a large portion of his head to explode out against the brick wall behind him. The rapist fell to the floor, and Kephart put another .44 bullet into his revolver before turning and walking away. He had decided the night before that evil men, men who couldn’t even be considered human, would have their lives taken.

 

 

*6:12 AM*

 

John Miller woke up and gasped, his whole body aching. He then realized that he was in a hospital, and was hooked up to several machines. A bandaged covered his stitched up knife wound, and his nose had been broken. Miller attempted to get up, but he couldn’t, he might have broken a rib.
“Miller, hello,” said a man as he entered.
“What happened?” asked Miller.
“Several men found you last night in an alley near the docks, brought you here. Judging by the scar, you were probably beaten by Henry Sculari, also known as Scar. You’re lucky to be alive,” said the Doctor.
“How long will I be in here?” asked Miller.
“You’ll be let out at the end of today, but you’ll have to rest for a week or two,” said the Doctor, “Your nose was broken, your face is heavily scarred.”
“Did I break any ribs?” asked Miller.
“No, but you were hit in the chest enough times to feel like you did. You were extremely lucky,” said the Doctor.

“I need to leave,” said Miller, ignoring the pain as he got up and unhooked the few machines that were hooked up to him.
“Not yet!” yelled the Doctor.
Miller ignored the Doctor and walked out of the room, grabbing his clothes and wallet as he did so. Miller stopped at the desk, and paid the bill. It was a lot, but he had enough saved up. Afterwards, Miller went to the bathroom, changed into his blood-stained clothes, and walked outside.

 

*6:51 AM*

 

John Miller stepped out of the alley, an illegally purchased snub-nosed revolver in his pocket, along with a box of ammunition, and a look of unemotional thought was on his face. He was about to go kill a man, a human being. If he was going to do it, he had to go all the way, and there would be no going back.

*7:43 AM*

 

BANG!

BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
“What the fuck was that?” asked Scar as he grabbed a cigar from his box, he was in his Headquarters, a small house near the Docks. In it were several rooms, one of which was a barracks for his four men, one was Scar’s bedroom, and one was Scar’s office.

“Gunshots,” said Scar’s bodyguard.

Scar’s bodyguard drew his 9mm pistol and walked outside, only to be shot in the neck. He gurgled, and fired off two random shots before falling to the floor, another thump was also heard. Scar walked outside, his .45 pistol at the ready, and a cigar in his mouth. He jumped around the corner and fired several shots, all of which hit a body, but not the one he was hoping to hit. John Miller fired three shots, two of which struck Scar. Scar fell backwards, and John Miller dropped the meat shield. He then took a knife from Scar’s dead bodyguard, the same man that had given John his cut, and stabbed it into Scar’s forehead before pulling it down, making a scar mirroring Miller’s cut. Scar managed to scream, and when John was finished, he grabbed Scar’s cigar from the floor, shot Scar in the forehead, and grabbed the two pistols before walking into Scar’s office. John then stopped, and examined the still-lit cigar he was holding.
“Hmph,” said Miller before putting the cigar in his mouth and searching through Scar’s desk.


18:11:14 Sep 1st 09 - Mr. Himanil VII:

(Ok then. Go on)


18:26:41 Sep 1st 09 - Prince Gaius Septimus Cidellus:

[[OOC: By the time I finished typing that, I didn't realize that Rhade had already posted. This takes place before John and Patrick killed those people...]]

*2:25 AM*

Frank Harrison was seated by the window, the curtains closed, but he was able to see through them. In front of him was a basic laptop computer purchased from a pawn shop down the street. It had taken 175 dollars of his remaining 225 dollars, but it was a useful tool when combined with the internet. On the screen was a document displaying the hierarchy of CompuCorp, which he had learned via the magical use of the internet. After forming a tree, he began researching past criminal trials, trying to make a list of criminals that had gotten off for one reason or another.


[Top]  Pages:   1 

Login
Username: Don't have an account - Sign up!
Password: Forgot your password - Retrive it!

My bookmarksOld forum design


- close -
  Copyright © 1999-2024 Visual Utopia. All rights reserved. Page loaded in 0.03 seconds. Server time: 8:47:42 AM