Experiment raised an eyebrow, and shrugged. "Well... That was... Slightly odd. I have never seen anyone so happy about giving out pieces of folded paper..." he turned to Essex, and smiled. "Seeya later, Ess. Tell your hyper-active friend I said bye."
With that, he walked outside and leaped into the air, jets activating and pushing him further into the sky, away from the Repliforce base.
He landed in King's Row not too much later, and shoved his fist into a Skull's face, stopping a mugging in progress. He leaned down, and shook his head.
"C'mon dude... Valentines day..."
The thug disappeared in a flash of light, as Experiment jumped into the back of a random truck.
Essex exhaled deeply.
Whew...Better put everything in order....
About half an hour later, the base was finally set up, all her gifts to her brothers and sisters and, in the unlikely event he reappeared, Dr. West, set out neatly. The little pink robot skimmed off to her room, changing...
...emerging in a skintight green bodysuit, a tactical belt and bandoliers, Curtis' familiar duster tipped low over her IR-goggled eyes.
She had a bag tucked into her belt, and was well-armed with guns, knives, and other weaponry.
Essex was off to the Isles to visit Marcus and her other blackmask friends.
-------------------------------------------------------
Rosalind grinned to Kathode. "Awh, hell, sure. I got nothin' else to do today anyway. And the number of times I've seen people in the D who've hit on me because they think -I'm- a catgirl - I mean, [censored], who can't tell the difference between cats and dogs? - You should have no trouble pickin' up a cute guy."
With that, she shoved her hands in her pockets and followed the catgirl along, chatting genially along the way.
-------------------------------------------
Truefeather's eyebrows raised slightly as the letter promptly deposited itself on top of everything else.
"Oh, my!"
She hesitated, shifting her grip to make sure nothing fell out of her arms, mostly concerned with keeping the letter from falling from its precarious perch.
"Oh, oh..."
True could feel her grip loosening, and she struggled not to drop anything, planting her feet carefully as she readjusted her grip.
"Oh, dear..."
With a clatter of boxes, her parcels flew everywhere, strangely falling in a perfect circle around her as she wobbled and fell to the ground, her platform boots sweeping out from under her.
"Oof!"
Almost lazily, the letter wafted down into her lap, seemingly exuding confidence that it was now the only one left.
"You cad." she murmured under her breath with a smile.
Japancakes.
Art - Theme 005 - Seeking Solace
[ QUOTE ]
Poe sniffed at that. "Diov is still at Husk Corporation Tower."
[/ QUOTE ]
"He's still working hard on Valentine's day, too...? so's my boss. I wish people would take the day off."
[ QUOTE ]
"How are things back at Equinox Labs?" He asked casually.
[/ QUOTE ]
"Well.. for me, it's always busy. Since I'm company property, I don't get paid for the work I do... I actually got a part-time job with my day off a while back to start getting pocket money. ...W-Well, cowl money. I don't have pockets."
He looked over the railing with a slight sigh.
"...M-Maybe it was a bad idea to come here today. I was just hoping to enjoy myself before getting to work, but everyone seems so..." He caught a couple making out under one of the stairs out of the corner of his eye. "...Far along."
"Yea. I know what you mean." Poe said, struggling NOT to follow Ozell's pointed gaze.
"Hey, you know, if you're looking for extra pocket change, I could cut you in on some Husk Corp. stock. Normally, a single share costs you your soul all four of your limbs, (usually more) your right eye, your liver, your appendex, your spinal cord, your dignity, your self of steam, half of your overall intelligence, and eternal slavery from all your offspring and their offspring. Oh, and we'd need to peel your flesh off." He said.
"But as one of the six husk lords, I can get you a direct share free of charge, and investment usually sees an anual return of 100,000,000,000,000% the return rate. So if you invested...What, ten dollars...You'd get..." He whistled to signify his point.
"But, uh, I'd need a tiny favor first. It involves alchohol, the speaker system, and a canister of hallucinogenic gas. Interested?"
Bear grabbed the card and chocolate, and, after administering everyone in the vicinity the birdie, hit his jetpack, shooting skyward and off in the direction of one of the Pocket D entrances.
---
"Ah. Ozell." A coarse and reptilian voice murmured.
"Poe." It added after a moment.
Emerging from a cloud of haze came Rulaag, the skull-face of a Skull still in his hands.
"A fancy meeting you both here. I have come to...relax...as the criminals in my current patrol area began to slowly disperse after the third one was deemed cancerous."
The Alien dropped the mask on the ground and cracked his knuckles.
"What brings you to this establishment today, hm?"
---
Reikoff put down his Sniper Rifle.
"Division Sixteen, this is Dune Fort. I've lost the Wyvern but found three more targets....engaging now." He muttered over his radio, waiting for the staticky "Affirmative" before pocketing the radio again and resuming staring through the scope.
"Got you now, metahumans..." The commander hissed.
With a bang, a .50 Caliber Armor Piercing Sniper Round was headed for Balsk's chest.
"What [censored] is so self-righteous he forsakes Canadian Bacon pizza?" Kip muttered as he watched the smoke trail off into the distance.
Then, turning to the wolf and the dragon(?), he waved the box a little, "My treat... I think you'll find it has more use than a paper card."
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.
Allen shrugged at Bear's sudden departure.
"I'm told he's not a very social person." he told Kip, "And...other things. I'm also told Canadian bacon is just a gimmick for ham."
With a smile that could only be that of a good mood, despite Allen's predatory appearance, he extended a hand towards the pizza-box, "Of course, that doesn't mean I'm foolish enough to..."
He suddenly froze in mid-sentence. His right ear twitched. What was a meta...click? Click was never good...
A trigger!
"DOWN!" was all Allen had time to roar across the entire area, lunging forward to grab both Kip and Balsk somewhere, anywhere, as Reikoff's rifle blasted the AP round away...
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
"Yeesh, what an [censored]," Balsk remarked as Bear flew off. "But whatever, I never say no to bacon. Or meat, for that matter."
Shrugging off Bear's departure, Balsk stepped forward to take a piece of the pro-offered pizza when suddenly his hand shot down to his sword, pulled it out, and used the flat of the blade to harmlessly deflect the AP round up into the sky. Not wasting another second, Balsk jumped to the side and kicked open the doors into SPC.
"I think we should all get in now," he said calmly as he surveyed the rooftops of the adjacent buildings, searching for the sniper.
Despite how low his security level was, Balsk was very much a professional soldier.
Statesman said let there be heroes, and there were heroes.
Lord Recluse said let there be villains, and there were villains.
NCsoft said let there be nothing, and there was nothing.
Kip was dumbfounded when the werewolf shouted for them to get to cover, and promptly knocked over when he tried to push him to safety. Lying on his back, he stared blankly into the sky. Pizza boxes, semi-triangular slices of bread, spilled cheese, pepperoni, green and red sliced bell peppers, sausage bits and olive rings scattered past his left shoulder, not to mention the afore-mentioned Canadian Bacon. The entire left side of his face started to twitch involuntarily and dark purple smoke started emanating from his eyes.
"I have bad news..." he growled, "My good mood is gone."
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.
Reikoff muttered silently and aimed again. The two human-like creatures seemed to be seeking cover, but the last one was on his back.
It would be like shooting fish in a barrel.
Reikoff squeezed the trigger and fired.
Poe regarded Rulaag.
"Sorry, I don't believe we have met before. You are...?
"Ah. My apologies for disturbing you with such things as knowing your name." The Alien said without a hint of sarcasm. Apparantly, he knew plenty about Diov's men, if only his Lords.
"I am Rulaag, Viper Corps Mercenary Commander."
When the bullet hit, a puff of purple smoke erupted from Kipland's chest, nullifying the impact (sort of; he still felt it, but it was like getting hit by a baseball bat), and he stood up slowly. Gritting his teeth, he pulled out his communicator device and dialed in a number. He could feel rounds impacting around his body as he strolled leisurely (albeit staggeringly) to a nearby building.
"Hi, yeah, it's me. Uh... I'm kind of hung up right now... Well... I kind of need you to come by and pick me up... I'm not sure which rooftop he or she's on, I just know it's one of 'em. The same way I know when it's one of 'em when leaping through Bricks, P.I., or the Folly. Oh yeah, they caused me to spill the pizzas."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
((This next guy isn't new, you guys just don't know me very well and I don't want to feel like I'm springing anything on anybody, so please peruse the Kingdale Backgrounder for a currently incomplete list of the characters at my disposal. I wrote it like some Freedom Corps clerk had to write it all down!))
In the base of Grey's Army, Cobalt Black 3-8-9 clicked off his communicator and started muttering to himself angrily.
"To think... I was about to have me some fun with these two Carnie initiates tonight..." he turned to Kip's brother, and yelled to him," NESTER! I need you to hit me with some of that mind-clearing medical mumbo-jumbo crap!"
Nester pulled a blue glove with green glowing circuitry out of his sleeve and placed his palm on his friend's head.
"Cobalt... This will get rid of your drunk state, but you're still gonna have a Hell of a hangover..."
"I know," Cobalt Black grumbled, "I got me some greens... I should be fine. I'll take the toll outta whoever's wasting my time."
Grabbing his guns from a rack near the teleporters, he plugged in the coordinates for the location he got from his double's communicator. With a crisp salute to Nester, he disappeared in a flash of light.
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.
[ QUOTE ]
"But, uh, I'd need a tiny favor first. It involves alchohol, the speaker system, and a canister of hallucinogenic gas. Interested?"
[/ QUOTE ]
"N-No, no, don't worry about something like that.." Ozell shook his head, kind and gullible as ever. "Things like a favor I'd always do for free. Um.. Alcohol the club has, there's speaker systems down on the dance floor... but.. a canister of hallucinogenic gas?..."
[ QUOTE ]
Emerging from a cloud of haze came Rulaag, the skull-face of a Skull still in his hands.
[/ QUOTE ]
"...We may just have one!"
Ozell waited for the two to introduce themselves before speaking again.
"R-Right.. Rulaag is teaching me the fundamentals of being a mercenary, so I guess this means I've got a third job, too. Rulaag, you wouldn't happen to have an.. um.. a canister of hallucinogenic gas, would you?.."
Poe rolled his eyes at Ozell's question.
"No need for that, I have a canister right here." He said, pulling out a little silver marble the size of a pea.
Then he looked at Rulaag.
"You, I've never seen or heard of before. If you know about Diov though, I guess that means you've met him at least."
Off the ferry to the Rogue Isles came all sorts of unsavory folks. Large, hulking masses of pain incarnate, seductive femme fatales, and the like.
Among them slipped a very small, very slight little figure.
Essex stood to the side of the ferry, stock-still, watching the people dismounting. She was glad she didn't need to breathe, carefully gripping the handles of the knives held flush against her arms.
The little android was terribly glad that the Malta had sent her to train with the Knives of Artemis to learn some self-protection. She'd been afraid of it - terribly afraid - at first, but they had all thought she was just the cutest thing, and before long the small squadron she'd trained with had affectionately deemed her a mascot of sorts.
Finally, slipping off into the shadows, she skimmed along near-silently, hat tipped low over her eyes. There was a cluster of Family up ahead -- perfect. But she knew better than to sneak up on them.
"H-hi!" she hailed them, waving her arm over her head.
This was really odd, seeing as she was dressed as a miniature member of the Knives of Artemis.
----------------------------------------------
Truefeather began gathering herself back together, carefully stacking everything again in a way that would be easy to pick up and maintain...but the letter in her lap had piqued her curiosity. Carefully running her finger under the seal to break it, she opened the envelope and began to read...
Japancakes.
Art - Theme 005 - Seeking Solace
Valentine's Day.
Bah, humbug.
Lord Sir Walter Greensryche Redd the Second sat in the fortress that was Greensryche Industries Headquarters, specifically in his room. It didn't look much like a room befitting a multibillionaire, full of posters depicting heavy metal bands, several electric guitars hung up on the walls, and a large stereo system with numerous speakers spread around the room, as well as a wall literally full of different metal CDs.
Walter may have been a multibillionaire, but he was also a metalhead. A very, very metal metalhead.
He was also currently sitting on his throne of broken car parts, fingers steepled together as he stared at the black walls that made up his "throne room" from behind his always-there sunglasses. His expression was neutral, thoughtful, as emotionless as always as his thoughts tumbled and tussled within themselves.
He mentally went over the list of things to do for the day:
1: Work on Doom Schneider's marksmanship. His effectiveness had decreased by .08%, and his aim was on target only about 92% of the time. Utterly unacceptable.
Check. Though Walter himself was unable to fire a gun anymore, aside from his pathetic .22 LR, he had gone to the firing range with Doom and not only honed his marksmanship back up to 115%, but had also worked on stealth and infiltration.
2: Change the Greensryche Industries direct contact phone number.
Check. He had assigned Lyden to change it--with simply the "Affirmative" he had heard, he checked it off as done right then and there.
3: See martial arts instructors about improvements to GSR CQC, and his own Goju Ryu.
Check. GSR CQC was focused highly upon punching, and by training against those that used primarily kicks, he was able to single out and hone a few weaknesses and problems. He made it a mental note to talk to the GSR units about these weaknesses and problems, see if they could find ways to overcome them. Any form of problem was entirely and completely unacceptable. His own Goju Ryu, however...still as top-notch as ever. He let out a dry chuckle--too bad it was of little use in both Paragon and the Etoile Isles, but it was better than nothing.
4: Give the unprogrammed workers the day off to be with their significant others.
Check. Most of the workers in Greensryche Industries were genetically modified or cybernetically enhanced and programmed in the brain in order to ensure utmost loyalty, and they were the only ones allowed to know about the industry's inner secrets. Greensryche Industries, however, had the front of being a medical chemical research and development company, however, and thus had many, many normal workers in order to ensure this front stayed airtight. As well as, well, actually developing medical chemicals that would bring in some extra money on the side--the performance-enhancing chemicals were brewed deeper inside. Sometimes they got the order to make something that wouldn't be for medical use, which perked a few eyebrows, but their pay was good, so they didn't care or mind.
However, as normal workers are, morale needs to be kept high--they have their own loves, their own hopes, their own dreams, and their own ideals. Without good morale, workers would not work well--thus, Walter had given them the entire day off.
5: Tell Shane and Zakk to stop playing with the teleporter. Again.
Check. He had told them, but they didn't listen. Again.
As usual.
Walter sighed--if they weren't good and loyal fighters, he would have pulled the plug on them long ago.
He made a mental note that, as punishment, they'd be target practice for the GSR units to work out the CQC flaws and ******.
...That was it. And it was all done.
Valentine's Day wasn't very busy, with all of the normal workers gone home and the company "Closed" for the day.
...That simply left him alone with his thoughts.
Walter frowned. Take away a man's light, his clothes, his food, his friends, his air, and you leave him with nothing but himself. And for most, that is not pleasant company. In Walter's case, it was taking away things to do to distract himself with, leaving him alone with himself.
He didn't quite like himself.
Walter shook his head and stood up out of his throne, starting to pace around.
Valentine's Day. A day of celebrating companionship, of friendship, of romance.
He had none. He was a ruler--the ruler of Greensryche Industries, and the Lord over the terrifying GSR units. But the problem is, being a ruler and a lord meant you were above. The closest he could get was being a father figure to the GSR units--what about him, himself? All of his subordinates were programmed, altered, and enhanced in some way...their loyalty to him was forced, by the routines implanted in their brains and the chemicals coursing through their veins.
Was this truly all he could aspire to? He mused silently, hands behind his back. A puppetmaster controlling puppets, all in the name of his final goal? His goal was simple, but it brought many, many enemies--his allies were few, and most of them had to be coerced...or even forced. He was hated by the Etoile Islanders, and he was hated by Paragon's heroes.
What was so wrong about what he was doing? Nothing, in his eyes--but heroes found him despicable for what he was doing, and villains found him despicable for why he was doing it.
It was a double-edged sword, and it left him with...nothing. Absolutely nothing. Nothing except puppets to pull by their strings, spouting off things they were programmed to say and doing things they were forced to do, nothing except a cause and a goal he would never reach, and nothing except a heavy burden he knew would never be lifted off of him.
Walter slumped down back into his throne, closing his eyes behind his sunglasses.
He pushed a button on the right armrest, and loud metal music promptly filled the room--muted from the outside by all of the cloth absorbing the noise, leaving him in peace.
Then again, peace was a far cry from what was going in his mind right now.
Sometimes being alone just hurt.
GSR Unit Locria's containment tank hissed open with a burst of air. The young woman inside allowed herself a brief moment to rub her eyes - Locria had overslept a bit. Unacceptable - this was no way for a proper --
Her thoughts were interrupted as a small plush kitten fell neatly atop her head.
Quick as a flash, Locria whipped the kitten off her head and examined it.
It was cute. Adorable even. The fabric used to make it was the softest she had ever felt, and it looked up at her with shiny black-buttoned eyes.
Locria glanced back and forth. She knew the security feed was always on to the room, but she wasn't worried about the Master seeing her. Aolen and the others - they were more harsh of her varied tastes.
Upon confirming that no-one besides the cameras were watching her, she snuggled the kitten with almost mechanical affection. She hurried to her locker, placing it on the top shelf with a group of other stuffed animals, though these were inferior - obviously drastically inferior to this gift - and set it near the forefront.
She ducked down to the lower portion of the locker, decorated with heavy metal posters. Locria rifled through some of her neatly placed belongings at the bottom and came out with two boxes - one marked 'Lyden' and one marked 'Master.'
Lyden's box contained nothing more than a small trinket - but one that Locria hoped would be meaningful. She had watched Lyden observe a children's soccer match with more interest than was accorded to such things....and had deduced that he enjoyed the game. The box contained a small, circular charm shaped like a soccer ball and attached to a keychain, the keychain in turn clipped onto a smaller box. Inside the box was a small fuseball figurine - painted in Locria's precise hand to look similar to Lyden. The normal workers had a fuseball table in their break room, and Locria had considered replacing it as a surprise, but immediately dismissed the possibility of it being ruined.
Her work in that room being done, the GSR unit moved to the door of Walter Redd.
"...Master?" Locria called with a sharp knock. "Unit Locria reporting."
Japancakes.
Art - Theme 005 - Seeking Solace
"Possibly." Came Rulaag's cryptic answer, having already produced his own can of gas.
"You will find this to be far better suited for your purposes."
---
The Underboss glanced over to Essex. A bit startled, he pushed the payment-skipping man with cinderblocks on his feet into the river a bit earlier than he'd meant to. Shrugging that little misstep off, the Family Boss grinned and waved at Essex.
Evidently, Family ties were strong.
"'Ealbot!" One of the toughs grinned a big, yellow-toothed grin. "Whad brings yas ta dis stinkhole, eh? You lookin' fer Marcus?"
---
"[censored] metahumans." Reikoff growled. Grabbing his radio right as he heard the flash of a teleport, his combat instincts instantly kicked in.
"Curtis, don't ask, drop your date, teleport to my location now." He hissed into his radio, rolling behind a vent on the roof for cover. Lowering his goggles and turning on Thermal vision, the TacCom produced an AR-15 Assault Shotgun and glanced about for the teleporter.
Not half a second later, Curtis appeared, a glossy red imprint of a woman's lipsticky kiss just visible over his Gunslinger's cowl. The 'slinger already had his .357s out and ready, and he wasted no time in finding cover, either.
Whatever idiot that was about to attack them was going to get a BIG suprise.
Poe raised an eyebrow.
"This canister here could cause an entire army to wet its pants. But I suppose yours might still be useful...Especially if I set them both off at once. That would be amusing."
He grabbed Rulaag's canister.
"I'll be right back, I need to procure that alcohol..."
He left the platform, and entered the hero-side elevator. He started chatting with the bar-tender.
Essex sighed in relief. It was so much easier when they already knew her. She pulled the cowl down a little and tipped her hat up to show her face, pushing the goggles up to rest on her forehead.
"Yes sir!" she chirped. "Happy Valentines' Day! I ...ah... I tried to make cannoli, but it exploded, so I had to settle for chocolates instead. I hope you all don't mind...Could you take me to Marcus?"
Japancakes.
Art - Theme 005 - Seeking Solace
"What a strange man." Rulaag shrugged widely.
"So tell me Ozell, just what DOES bring you here, hmm?"
---
"Awh, yeh, fer you? Anyting." The goon grinned.
"Vinny! Git dis here girly ta Marcus, an if she gits a scratch on 'er, just remindin' ya dat 'e ain't bout ta stop himself from makin' ya 'ead pop! Bahahahah!"
All of the thugs but Vinny laughed. The Button Man sighed and shouldered his Shotgun.
"Follow me, kiddo."
The Family goon led Essex through the safest (If it could be called that) route through Port Oakes, until they reached Emil Marcone's tower. After a hellishly long elevator ride that reeked of spent cigars, they wound up in a beautiful red office with a view overlooking the greater city. A cloud of smoke drifted lazily around the chair at the end of the room, which swiveled around to reveal a man in a very, very nice suit smoking a very, very nice cigar.
"Ess'x!" Marcus exclaimed, "'Appy V-Day!"
Cobalt Black 3-8-9 landed on an empty rooftop.
"Don't bother hiding," he pulled his Beretta 9mms and started cycling his aim to anywhere nearby that would provide cover, "I'll find you eventually, and it won't be fun. I just wanna have a little talk, Boss..."
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.
The bar-tender suddenly frowned, and said something in the distance. Poe also frowned and leaned in closer. Sudddenly, there was what looked like a full-ended double rant going on.
Until Poe leapt over the bar and beat the man in the face, then quickly shoving him into a nearby cabinet and putting a large barrel in front of the door. He then start to gather up several empty glass bottles and filling them with pure 100% alcohol from a tap beneath the bar. Once that was finished, he stole several rags from nearby tables and started sticking them into the bottles...
[ QUOTE ]
"Mr. Poe! H-Hey there!"
[/ QUOTE ]
Lord Poe's ears perked at the sound of a voice he thought he had heard before. He slowly turned around and cooly regarded Ozell.
"Oh. You. Hey to you too."
[ QUOTE ]
"H-How are you today? ...And where's Mr. Diov and everyone else?"
[/ QUOTE ]
Poe sniffed at that. "Diov is still at Husk Corporation Tower. The others are visiting their own timetracks for Valentines Day. However, considering that it is impossible to take three steps in my home dimension without being targeted for an air strike, I chose to come HERE." He sweept his arms to his sides. He purposefully ignored Ozell's first question.
[ QUOTE ]
"...I like the music they're playing right now."
[/ QUOTE ]
Poe smirked a little at that, but decided not to comment.
"How are things back at Equinox Labs?" He asked casually.