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Thread: The Mutant War (IC)

  1. #1
    Quizmaster justice's Avatar
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    The Mutant War (IC)

    The Mutant War
    OOC

    Two Weeks Ago

    Roger had always known he was getting old. Walking through the hallway and then riding up the elevator took longer than he normally expected and even after he sat down he could feel his heart thumping that much harder. While he sat the sound of people moving and shuffling could be heard throughout the building. In the heart of New York he currently occupied one of the best kept safe houses in the world for Mutants. As a normal human he was perhaps one of three in the world who knew of its existence. His reason for that was simple. He was a traitor.

    At least that was what the government and the mutant crazy normal’s called him. Roger on the other hand had a very different view. He was not a traitor at all. Instead he was a man who could never stand behind the group that dragged his grandson from his home and shot him in the street because he was born with wings on his back. The mob style justice had been supposedly set down after his grandson failed to allow the government to implant a tracking device. The reality was the people with hate in their souls wanted blood and his grandson was the quickest path to it.

    After that night Roger instantly began to formulate plans and ways to help the mutants of the world. As a full general of both wars in the Middle East he was one of the greatest minds when it came to modern warfare. It had taken over a year to fully earn mutants trust. Had it not been for some independent missions he ran with a select group of mutants he wasn’t sure they would have ever trusted him. When they did however he got right to work. He gave the mutant resistance targets, training programs, and even helped set up the world network with mutants who had transportation type super powers. He also helped them better understand the world’s government major plan of action and how they were likely to go about hunting them down.

    Everyone on both sides of the war knows just how key Roger was to the Mutant Resistance and as such his location had become a high priority to protect. As such he was moved every few days all around the world. That would normally mean he would have moved three days ago from New York, but for a very important reason he could not leave the city. The door opened and a woman no older than 14 entered. She wore a common teenage outfit with jeans and a hoodie. She spoke while she walked. “The package is here.” Her words seemed excited. Like she found out her favorite band was going to be touring in the town.

    Roger almost stood up, but felt his legs start to fail him as he did. “Then have it brought it to me as soon as possible. We must see it.” His legs were weak, but his voice was still very strong. In his tone was a commanding echo that had lead many men into the face of danger. He still had his silver tongue and on his death bed he knew it would be the very last thing to leave him. The girl left in a hurry and a few minutes later came back with a small group. With them they brought a Television and a DVD player. “Close the door and turn the light off. I want to see this myself.


    General Roger

    Present

    “Roger they have gathered in the farm house.” The young man said. He had suddenly teleported behind the old general who had long since gotten used to his bodyguard appearing and disappearing in the blink of an eye. He simply nodded and with the help of his security guard and friend stood up and began to walk towards the farm house across the way. While they walked he asked about how the team looked. It had been a long time since he had seen any of the people he had called on.

    “They look healthy. At least on the outside. As far as I have understood you are likely to see them as older. You say that about everyone you don’t see for awhile though. Still the farm house is still standing so no aggressive moves it would seem." The young man was as close to a grandson as Roger had gained this past five years and as such had raised him very much to be like him. It was never really on purpose, but it was impossible to stop himself from doing so. After all he was surrounded by young boys and girls who were being thrown into a violent world he wanted nothing to do with. His heart wouldn't let him stop, and he knew if he ever did it would only be after victory or defeat. Something he deep down never wanted to see. Mostly because one at this point meant the complete distruction of the other.

    In the Farm House

    Everyone is gathered in the living room and dining room area. There are old couches spread about and while the kitchen is visible it is small and somewhat cramped. There are some snacks laid out and outside the tense atmosphere it would be the likely picture of a group of friends making for a weekend getaway. Still they had all been contacted from their posts around the eastern coast of the United States and brought to this farm house under orders of General Roger. Most of your characters have met him and each other in the past. None have fought alongside the General. Your orders were very cryptic. Only given the message “Reassignment. Meet at the farm.” You have now all gathered and have been told to make yourself comfortable until the general meets with you.
    Last edited by justice; 02-28-2013 at 09:11 PM.
    "History Will Be Kind To Me, For I Intend To Write It"

    Winston Churchill



  2. #2
    exaggerate Tunafish's Avatar
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    It was nicer than expected. This farmhouse. Deon identified with the site immediately, having been raised on a farm. He looked around the living room drawing in as much peace-of-mind the space could offer him. Too anxious to sit, Deon walked the room, stopping at windows to gaze briefly outside and check for threats. He thought of his family farm and imagined his parents walking the yard. They would never die, not as long as Deon was alive, plus he had a new family.

    He looked down, checking his clothes and brushed some dirt from his black hoodie. Black jeans. Black military-style jungle boots. Black "Atlanta Falcons" cap. He'd become a slave to his inner Goth, a former country boy transformed into a the fallen Patron Saint of Fashion Nightmares. Deon smiled. It had been awhile since he remembered to laugh and it kept him sane. Drawing on his uncanny concentration, Deon dug deep enough to find a song from his favorite Goth Band, the Cure. They were well before his time, but Robert Smith & Co. made music and music is eternal. So, Deon hummed the melody from "Just Like Heaven".

    Davidson eyed his companions as he walked to the snack table and picked out a banana nut muffin. As he took an almost-snarling bite (he hadn't eaten anything of substance in days) Deon lightly-scanned the room Telepathically - just to get the overall mood. He was familiar with the mutants gathered here: young like himself, survivors like himself, but most of them commanded a degree of power that amazed Deon. Kale could cause earthquakes, Jack was a walking Powerhouse, Enzo was a one-man army, Zach and Darius were downright spooky. But they were good people operating under the worst-possible circumstances.

    There must be something big going down, to assemble this group. Deon felt a surge of something ... a sense of confidence. Probably the muffin. Deon reached for a paper cup and poured some apple juice. Wolfing down the last bit of muffin, Deon snags another and jams it into his hoodie pocket, then turns to face the others. He holds up his paper cup,

    "It isn't our normal five-star accommodations, but anything beats tap water and dehydrated rations, right? Enzo, you sober yet?"
    Last edited by Tunafish; 03-01-2013 at 03:29 PM.

  3. #3
    Level 98 Zombie-Slayer AvidSmoker's Avatar
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    The first thing that Kale did when she arrived at the farmhouse was head straight to the kitchen. God, she was starving- it felt like days since she had eaten, when in reality, it had only been an hour or two. She completely ignored her surroundings otherwise, focusing only on the food in front of her. She grabbed a bag of chips and a warm soda after eating a couple muffins, feeling remotely sated. Goddamn, she inwardly sighed in relief. It felt good to eat something- she could barely think on an empty stomach, let alone make nice with fellow soldiers.

    Her hunger ebbing, she turned her attention to the living room, her eyes scanning the people lounging one couches, leaning against walls, making conversation with each other. She briefly considered joining them, but quickly shook it off. She hadn't been one to socialize since the war began- she assumed it was quite the cliché, shutting herself away after being hurt too many times, but it was what she had become. She chuckled to herself slightly- the "strong, silent type" was usually a male role, but here she was, the strong, silent little girl.

    She soon snapped out of her reverie after she realized that she had been staring awkwardly at somebody in the living room, quickly pulling the brim of her hat to cover her eyes and averting her gaze. Pulling herself up to sit upon the slightly grimy kitchen counter, she brushed off her clothes nervously. It had been a while since she had been around people at all- most missions she could carry out herself- and she had nearly forgotten how to avoid awkward situations around other people.

    Kale shook her head quickly, trying to rid herself of the thoughts running through her mind. This is a military mission, she chided herself, not a playdate. Get ahold of yourself, Kale. After a minute or so, she returned to cleaning out the kitchen's food supply, her hunger renewing.


  4. #4
    Human Thought Recorder Whisket's Avatar
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    Enzo was looking through the fridge while the others made small talk, he really didn't give too much thought as to why he was here, he was just pleased to be away from where he had been. He was more or less sober at this point, slightly hungover but nothing debilitating, he pulled out a water bottle from the fridge and sat down on the couch, nothing cures a hang over better than to keep drinking, but someone must've decided against putting beer in the fridge, he wasn't surprised. The farm house was better than that sleepy little place he was at, with nothing better to do but attempt to play cards or chess with himself, it's hard. He adjusted his vest making himself comfortable on the small sofa, his vest was adorned with various patches, buttons, studs etc, he'd collected from his travels as a youth, he wished he had the time to see those bands again.

    "Ugh, yeah I am for now, man, just glad to see all you again, even if barely remember some of you." He said groggily while looking over at Kale who had been absentmindedly staring at him for a second. "But it's better than having to talk to yourself, and I mean that literally, for what felt like eternity." he said whilst removing his hat briefly to scratch at his head tiredly for a second or two, before replacing it. The sound of a toilet flushing could be heard as the "real" Enzo walked out of the bathroom, and sat down into himself on the couch. Pissing with one body and having a replica do the talking was the first trick he learned, even if it wasn't on purpose. "Anyway how've you been, man?"
    No matter where you go
    there you are.

  5. #5
    exaggerate Tunafish's Avatar
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    Deon walks by Kale and smiles, "Nice boots." She definitely knew how to dress and Kale could 'rock your world' - literally. So, Deon was careful to be polite and brief.

    Coming to a stop near the seated Enzo, Deon sipped the last of his drink and raised his eyebrows, "Dude. A week ago I'm in San Diego helping a team get survivors across the border. Three days later I'm a courier delivering intel from one side of Texas to the other with zero support. Then I got orders for here. Didn't expect to see your ugly 'faces' stalking this place though." Deon grins. "You saved my ass back in New York and I'll never forget it. Just like I'll never forget you still owe me $50."

    Deon looked around the rooms again and without looking at Enzo, Telepathically-spoke to him, " Any idea what the General has planned? With Kale, Darius and the others here, it has to be something BIG. You think we're going after a Prime Objective?"
    Last edited by Tunafish; 03-01-2013 at 03:27 PM.

  6. #6
    One of the Undead... Rtron's Avatar
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    Hannah couldn't sit still. She paced before a window in the room, tense. It wasn't that she distrusted the general or the people around her, it was the cryptic message, the farmhouse. It looked much like her house before it had been burned down and her parents shot. Hannah knew that the likely hood of those events repeating themselves in the Farmhouse with the likes of Kale,Deon, Darius, Enzo, Zachary, and Jack. They all had, in her mind, much more useful abilities when it comes to usefulness in the war and amongst them she felt rather...unhelpful in combat situations.

    Seeing as to do damage her target has to be a living thing with cells, and she has to lay a hand on them. Her gaze flicked amongst the group. She had heard of them by name, but had never met them personally, as her particular talents were more useful where the injured were in high amount or on missions where injury was a high possibility. Most of them were devouring the food left. That might be a good idea on my part to...no idea when the next true meal might be... Hannah thought with a rueful smile. Though, truth be told, she didn't feel hungry at all. Nervous tension and what not.


    She brushed some nonexistent dirt off of her clothes (Black running shoes, Dark blue jeans, Dark blue t-shirt.), and ran her thumb in circles on the, already worn smooth, back of her necklace in a nervous gesture. She walked over and snagged a simple baloney and cheese sandwich and sat down to eat it, within easy reach of more food, but not all that near anyone either. She kept her gaze astutely forward, and down slightly intimidated by the people around her.



    I WILL BE GONE MOST SATURDAYS AND A GOOD HUNK OF SUNDAYS

  7. #7
    Prepare to Die Argetlam350's Avatar
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    Zac entered the farmhouse through the cracks of the door, seeping in as smoke just for the appeal of a somewhat dramatic entrance. He reformed once inside the farmhouse looking around through his dark sunglasses. His hair was a mess and shaggy but it was how he liked it and didn't care much on appearance though he wore a clean black t-shirt with a decent pair of denim jeans and tennis shoes. Both arms were covered in tattoos, all having some form of memory or meaning to them.
    He walked forward picking a chair that wasn't taken and sat down not saying much though he knew most of the faces that were their in the room be it through missions or just some run ins while exchanging messages between outposts.
    "You are of the Undead. Forever without hope. Forever without light."

  8. #8
    Human Thought Recorder Whisket's Avatar
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    "Haha, you know you love all of my faces, chump. And Goood damn the most I did was move some kids through an underground, they didn't really need much help just a distraction." Enzo said to Deon, then almost spit out his water as the New York incident and $50 was brought up "Shit, dude you know I'm good for it, hold it too me though you know I forget shit." Enzo said apologetically.

    In Enzo's head he replied to Deon: "I have no clue, this is way to sudden, and that usually means something important, or at the very least bad so Prime Objective might be an understatement here."

    Enzo looked around the room a little bit, He didn't recognize the girl with the sandwich, he squinted at her for a bit and was about to say something before Zac appeared without a word. Enzo snapped his attention to him "Heeeyy why so glum, smoky?" Enzo said somewhat patronizingly.
    No matter where you go
    there you are.

  9. #9
    Prepare to Die Argetlam350's Avatar
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    Zac rolled his eyes somewhat behind his glasses when Enzo spoke to him."Not glum man but obviously we wouldn't be here unless it was either something really good or really bad," he said ",Maybe both. Who knows."
    Zac was hoping that it was something good above all else, maybe an end to the war. He tried to keep it mostly a secret but the first few years of the war had left him suffering from PTSD slightly and he was tired of fighting somewhat. It wasn't all cracked up as it had been shown in T.V. and the older he got the more he understood why. It took a lot to kill then again when the other side was trying to kill you, you had little choice besides to do the same.
    "You are of the Undead. Forever without hope. Forever without light."

  10. #10
    exaggerate Tunafish's Avatar
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    Deon eyed Hannah. She was eating. A good sign. Still with us. This war was so traumatic and painful for us. Deon had seen mutants crumble psychologically under the pressure of it all. Good, honest people crushed under the weight of discriminatory violence. He wanted to send her a telepathic message of support, but, not yet. Go easy, Deon - everybody doesn't want someone in their head.

    "Zaaaak!" Deon exclaimed as the young champion took a seat. "I heard you were fighting the good fight in Los Angeles. Wasn't sure you would make it out with the huge forces Uncle Same sent against you. I know I'm glad you're here. I also know it's f*ckin cold out there, so no one expects you to be a boyscout here. Hopefully everyone can learn from what you've seen. There's food if you're hungry. Right now ..." Deon looks over the group, ".... we're waiting on command to let us know what's up."

    Deon walks to the food table and find a cup, then looks at Hannah, "What are you taking? Juice? Milk? Water? I got your first drink ...."

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