Null
[IC] The Bloody Embrace: An institution for young killers [SCI FI Academy] Page 2
- Large Group
- Casual
- Military
- School
- Sci-Fi
- GM Kingfisher
Join Status:
Apply
Kaite stopped, mid bite as the woman whom the machine had announced as 'Angelica Morres' sat a few spaces away, conveniently between himself and 'Tas' on the same side of the table. Apparently is was a subpsychology for humans to distance themselves in strange ways from threats. Regardless, he took the time to enter her name into the pad which dimly illuminated at the thought.
The 'implants' which the clones at Triganavia were given extended little farther than subcutaneous scalp sticks which sensed 'want' and 'context' more than actual thought. The belief was that surgery was more costly and difficult, especially with larger specimens, than simply tranq-darting and shooting an expanding skull-pad under the skin. In it was also a tracking device of sorts, although under the ocean, and considering that the control room for such implants had been reduced to cinders over a year ago...the threat with laughably nonexistent.
In return, the hazy sound of the girl's name echoed through Kaite's thoughts for a moment before the letters spelled themselves out on his inner arm before quickly fading. For a moment, it also displayed Kessler's name as well as 'Staci Jamerson' which he had taken the opportunity to note after recognizing the girl who'd rudely spoken up during the 'greeting ceremony'. It was surprising how she had chosen to apologize, uncharacteristic of humans, from what Kaite had come to know as their norm. Let alone her pervious nature which had made her unapproachable.
Introductions aside, he regrettably hadn't arrived early enough to catch 'Tas' 's actual name. It couldn't be helped, although with the brief encounter, she was the only individual who he'd formed any connection with on any level, exponentially adding to her value. He was eager to impress her by coming back alive from the first mission. Counter to other efforts, he was aware that words could never replace actions.
As tough as people talked, their words meant nothing under the assumption that they may be dead, tomorrow...even himself.
Or the day after that
or the day after that...
...or the day after that...
The thought had caused a subconscious break in action which scared Kaite as he noticed himself blankly staring into his sandwich which dripped mashed potatoes and peppers from the contents of the smashed pierogi in his sandwich of questionable taste. The reminder of mental rampancy shocked him back into reality when a boy which he'd missed the name of sat not too far away.
All of zeh meat...iz like zey szought of vehr it comes from...
Kaite rested an elbow on the table, setting the other half of the sandwich down while savoring the bite for only a few more seconds while taking his glass and tipping it in the direction of Darius with a nod. He figured he may as well attempt to express good will towards at least one person. He would consider a second individual, although the name of 'Angelica Morres' meant little to him, since she was another face which looked like the last, hardly distinguishable from 'Tas' besides the hair as far as Kaite was concerned.
He swallowed his bite hard before taking a quiet breath and scratching around the base of his antlers before saying to 'Darius', (@Javier)softly enough with the hope that only he heard, "Tea, eh? So fancy vee may be on zeh front porch..." with a considerately gentle chuckle to offer, more than willing to let the three work it out while hoping to contribute to background banter. His tone was friendly enough, though hinting that Kaite was discerning of who was worth talking to. They seemed predisposed with their knife, and he worried that he looked crazy by seemingly talking to himself...before taking the opportunity to exercise what he knew, "...Sehr Darius" the expression assuming that 'Darius' was a singular name with no last name, as the machine behind the buffet had implied.
"Introductions, I suppose-" Kaite began again, assuming it'd taken the mention of his name to get his attention, he tried to accent his words with a shrug, playfully referencing the group's attempts to flex and introduce themselves. In nearly the same motion of extending a hand in what one would describe as somewhere between a handshake and a high-five, he went on, "-pardons...ehm, I am Jericho..."
He recovered from the motion to make a gesture as if tipping a hat which had comical execution to the implied physical expression, considering the lack of place where a hat could fit atop the carefully whittled antlers which seemed sharp as knives at certain points. His tail flicked as he donned on the suspicion that some people may be unseemingly antisocial. He hoped it wasn't the case as he continued with his name to conclude the introduction, "...Jericho Kaite."
The 'implants' which the clones at Triganavia were given extended little farther than subcutaneous scalp sticks which sensed 'want' and 'context' more than actual thought. The belief was that surgery was more costly and difficult, especially with larger specimens, than simply tranq-darting and shooting an expanding skull-pad under the skin. In it was also a tracking device of sorts, although under the ocean, and considering that the control room for such implants had been reduced to cinders over a year ago...the threat with laughably nonexistent.
In return, the hazy sound of the girl's name echoed through Kaite's thoughts for a moment before the letters spelled themselves out on his inner arm before quickly fading. For a moment, it also displayed Kessler's name as well as 'Staci Jamerson' which he had taken the opportunity to note after recognizing the girl who'd rudely spoken up during the 'greeting ceremony'. It was surprising how she had chosen to apologize, uncharacteristic of humans, from what Kaite had come to know as their norm. Let alone her pervious nature which had made her unapproachable.
Introductions aside, he regrettably hadn't arrived early enough to catch 'Tas' 's actual name. It couldn't be helped, although with the brief encounter, she was the only individual who he'd formed any connection with on any level, exponentially adding to her value. He was eager to impress her by coming back alive from the first mission. Counter to other efforts, he was aware that words could never replace actions.
As tough as people talked, their words meant nothing under the assumption that they may be dead, tomorrow...even himself.
Or the day after that
or the day after that...
...or the day after that...
The thought had caused a subconscious break in action which scared Kaite as he noticed himself blankly staring into his sandwich which dripped mashed potatoes and peppers from the contents of the smashed pierogi in his sandwich of questionable taste. The reminder of mental rampancy shocked him back into reality when a boy which he'd missed the name of sat not too far away.
All of zeh meat...iz like zey szought of vehr it comes from...
Kaite rested an elbow on the table, setting the other half of the sandwich down while savoring the bite for only a few more seconds while taking his glass and tipping it in the direction of Darius with a nod. He figured he may as well attempt to express good will towards at least one person. He would consider a second individual, although the name of 'Angelica Morres' meant little to him, since she was another face which looked like the last, hardly distinguishable from 'Tas' besides the hair as far as Kaite was concerned.
He swallowed his bite hard before taking a quiet breath and scratching around the base of his antlers before saying to 'Darius', (@Javier)softly enough with the hope that only he heard, "Tea, eh? So fancy vee may be on zeh front porch..." with a considerately gentle chuckle to offer, more than willing to let the three work it out while hoping to contribute to background banter. His tone was friendly enough, though hinting that Kaite was discerning of who was worth talking to. They seemed predisposed with their knife, and he worried that he looked crazy by seemingly talking to himself...before taking the opportunity to exercise what he knew, "...Sehr Darius" the expression assuming that 'Darius' was a singular name with no last name, as the machine behind the buffet had implied.
"Introductions, I suppose-" Kaite began again, assuming it'd taken the mention of his name to get his attention, he tried to accent his words with a shrug, playfully referencing the group's attempts to flex and introduce themselves. In nearly the same motion of extending a hand in what one would describe as somewhere between a handshake and a high-five, he went on, "-pardons...ehm, I am Jericho..."
He recovered from the motion to make a gesture as if tipping a hat which had comical execution to the implied physical expression, considering the lack of place where a hat could fit atop the carefully whittled antlers which seemed sharp as knives at certain points. His tail flicked as he donned on the suspicion that some people may be unseemingly antisocial. He hoped it wasn't the case as he continued with his name to conclude the introduction, "...Jericho Kaite."
GM
Kingfisher Observing or participating?
Member
Seen
4 yrs ago
"Oh, you have me completely mistaken, love~ That's just my way of having fun! Honestly, I don't think I could stand anyone if they didn't have some backbone~ The names Kessler Brigs, explosives expert and I love blowing the fuck out of those i'm charged to kill! Or just those I like to kill in general~ You might think me unstable and some sort of psychopathic mess, but you don't understand! I'm not psychopathic, i'm just really really really tolerable of violence! I don't cackle like some cheesy villain from a murder novel, i laugh with joy, dance with merriment, and honestly, sister, i'm glad you don't wither like the rest~."
The mentalcase chirped after a small pause, grinning his broad grin.
People who aren’t psychopathic don’t usually feel the need to say ‘I’m not psychopathic’ Chantrea mussed inwardly.
This ‘Kesseler’ was an interesting specimen. Once-upon-a-time he might have made the young woman want to try and find a way out of the conversation, and far away from him, as quickly as she possibly could, but the current Chantrea’s interest was at least slightly aroused.
"Sho... Pleash, if ish pleashes you, keep inshulting! In reality it givesh me sh horn!" he mumbled through mouthfuls of bacon, bubbly as ever.
Dinner and a movie first, mate!
"I make my own explosives you know,” he declared, in a manner that made Chantrea wonder if he was trying to show off to her “and it would please me greatly if you and I blew up a cunt together. I don't hate you girl, I love everyone I insult, I belittle the ones i'd love to please, it's just my little... tune I play. The ones I hate I carve out their insides, stick an explosive in them, then dance to the songs of merry while they explode!”
Chantrea liked the crude sharpness behind his words, and the in-your-face boastfulness that seemed to be more than just tall talk, given the bold assuredness with which the mopheaded mentalcase spoke. It was, however, entirely possible that he was all talk, and that Kesseler would be the one hiding behind cover and crying for Mummy when the bullets started flying, so she’d have to be sure not to pick favourites, or invest too heavily in any one person, until they’d all been given a chance to prove themselves.
“Though cutting up defenseless people sounds so fun, I'd rather garnish myself with a challenge. The master won't appriciate such a scumbag like me unless I can prove that i'm more than boot licking material! Yes, I like to kill, murder, whatever, yadda-yadda, but i'm not weak~ I'll prove that to you. You have some talent yourself, why else could you handle such despair? So, i'm going to prove on this mission that i'm strong. And then after that... well, a surprise I guess~"
He tittered merrily, slurping up the rest of his meal.
Chantrea let his words hang on the air for a moment, shovelling down another forkful of macaroni and cheese, before taking a hearty swig from her chocolate milkshake, licking some of the residue off of her plump lips.
“Well, Kessler Briggs, I’m sure you’ll get your chance to fuck shit up and prove yourself to the ‘master’ soon enough.” The young woman said, choosing her words carefully. This could all just be some trick to get me to drop my guard before likening me to another set of barnyard animals or something equally ‘witty’ .
“As for giving you ‘horn’; there’s a whole load of assorted smut out there on the internet, and the Sanctum doesn’t have the usual law-abiding content filters up, so feel free to go shake your prick at a hologram instead of trying to get your jollies off of other students.” She offered up calmly.
“You’ve done the smart thing and associated yourself with the only person here who ‘as got any experience, and I commend you for it, but if you want to stay on my good side the dial back on the ribbing a smidge. Banta is fine, but don’t push it too far, sweetheart.” The faintest hint of a smile crept across the corner of her mouth, as she guzzled down more hot food.
"But you are already weak. Your hubris. You show it through your insults. You think you're cocky and the best. That will be your downfall." A voice called out to Kessler.
Chantrea cocked her head. The dark haired heckler from earlier had snuck up on her, and was now sitting in the seat next to her.
"I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier, though I do believe that we deserve a better explanation than the one you gave us. I am willing to start over if you are." She paused, clearing her throat “My name is Staci Jamerson, but you will only call me Shadow. That is my middle name and it is the name that I go by."
Chantrea considered this for a moment. Her natural instinct would be to partner up with Kessler and fire verbal abuse at ‘Shadow’ until she got up and left or hit one of them (the latter seeming more likely), but the cogs that kept her entrepreneurial brain ticking starter whirring, and helped her realize that it was smarter to form a relationship built upon mutual respect than hatred.
"And just for reference, I was--am a thief. I consider that a pretty good job myself, considering the fact I was the best."
Fucking jackpot .
Killing was second nature to Chantrea, but her heart was in stolen goods. Once this assassination business had cleared up, she was looking forwards to a life of wealth and splendour, and a partner like Shadow was a more than valuable asset, assuming she was more than just talk.
“Apology accepted.” Chantrea said warmly, popping a small doughnut into her mouth, before washing it down with some chocolate milkshake “Don’t take it personally, I didn’t want to be giving the speech any more than any of you wanted to listen to it.” She confessed with a smirk.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Shadow.” She remarked, respecting the girl’s wish to be referred to by her middle name.
“I’ll stick to ‘Tas’ for now, but if we make it out of Paris alive then we can get more familiar.” She said with a sharp laugh.
Just then, the mechanical doors of the dining hall came sliding open, and humongous dark figure in body armour came striding into the room, flanked by two smaller figures in similar armour.
“I’d finish this up soon, kiddos,” Chantrea said darkly “I think we’re in for a speech.”
The mentalcase chirped after a small pause, grinning his broad grin.
People who aren’t psychopathic don’t usually feel the need to say ‘I’m not psychopathic’ Chantrea mussed inwardly.
This ‘Kesseler’ was an interesting specimen. Once-upon-a-time he might have made the young woman want to try and find a way out of the conversation, and far away from him, as quickly as she possibly could, but the current Chantrea’s interest was at least slightly aroused.
"Sho... Pleash, if ish pleashes you, keep inshulting! In reality it givesh me sh horn!" he mumbled through mouthfuls of bacon, bubbly as ever.
Dinner and a movie first, mate!
"I make my own explosives you know,” he declared, in a manner that made Chantrea wonder if he was trying to show off to her “and it would please me greatly if you and I blew up a cunt together. I don't hate you girl, I love everyone I insult, I belittle the ones i'd love to please, it's just my little... tune I play. The ones I hate I carve out their insides, stick an explosive in them, then dance to the songs of merry while they explode!”
Chantrea liked the crude sharpness behind his words, and the in-your-face boastfulness that seemed to be more than just tall talk, given the bold assuredness with which the mopheaded mentalcase spoke. It was, however, entirely possible that he was all talk, and that Kesseler would be the one hiding behind cover and crying for Mummy when the bullets started flying, so she’d have to be sure not to pick favourites, or invest too heavily in any one person, until they’d all been given a chance to prove themselves.
“Though cutting up defenseless people sounds so fun, I'd rather garnish myself with a challenge. The master won't appriciate such a scumbag like me unless I can prove that i'm more than boot licking material! Yes, I like to kill, murder, whatever, yadda-yadda, but i'm not weak~ I'll prove that to you. You have some talent yourself, why else could you handle such despair? So, i'm going to prove on this mission that i'm strong. And then after that... well, a surprise I guess~"
He tittered merrily, slurping up the rest of his meal.
Chantrea let his words hang on the air for a moment, shovelling down another forkful of macaroni and cheese, before taking a hearty swig from her chocolate milkshake, licking some of the residue off of her plump lips.
“Well, Kessler Briggs, I’m sure you’ll get your chance to fuck shit up and prove yourself to the ‘master’ soon enough.” The young woman said, choosing her words carefully. This could all just be some trick to get me to drop my guard before likening me to another set of barnyard animals or something equally ‘witty’ .
“As for giving you ‘horn’; there’s a whole load of assorted smut out there on the internet, and the Sanctum doesn’t have the usual law-abiding content filters up, so feel free to go shake your prick at a hologram instead of trying to get your jollies off of other students.” She offered up calmly.
“You’ve done the smart thing and associated yourself with the only person here who ‘as got any experience, and I commend you for it, but if you want to stay on my good side the dial back on the ribbing a smidge. Banta is fine, but don’t push it too far, sweetheart.” The faintest hint of a smile crept across the corner of her mouth, as she guzzled down more hot food.
"But you are already weak. Your hubris. You show it through your insults. You think you're cocky and the best. That will be your downfall." A voice called out to Kessler.
Chantrea cocked her head. The dark haired heckler from earlier had snuck up on her, and was now sitting in the seat next to her.
"I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier, though I do believe that we deserve a better explanation than the one you gave us. I am willing to start over if you are." She paused, clearing her throat “My name is Staci Jamerson, but you will only call me Shadow. That is my middle name and it is the name that I go by."
Chantrea considered this for a moment. Her natural instinct would be to partner up with Kessler and fire verbal abuse at ‘Shadow’ until she got up and left or hit one of them (the latter seeming more likely), but the cogs that kept her entrepreneurial brain ticking starter whirring, and helped her realize that it was smarter to form a relationship built upon mutual respect than hatred.
"And just for reference, I was--am a thief. I consider that a pretty good job myself, considering the fact I was the best."
Fucking jackpot .
Killing was second nature to Chantrea, but her heart was in stolen goods. Once this assassination business had cleared up, she was looking forwards to a life of wealth and splendour, and a partner like Shadow was a more than valuable asset, assuming she was more than just talk.
“Apology accepted.” Chantrea said warmly, popping a small doughnut into her mouth, before washing it down with some chocolate milkshake “Don’t take it personally, I didn’t want to be giving the speech any more than any of you wanted to listen to it.” She confessed with a smirk.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Shadow.” She remarked, respecting the girl’s wish to be referred to by her middle name.
“I’ll stick to ‘Tas’ for now, but if we make it out of Paris alive then we can get more familiar.” She said with a sharp laugh.
Just then, the mechanical doors of the dining hall came sliding open, and humongous dark figure in body armour came striding into the room, flanked by two smaller figures in similar armour.
“I’d finish this up soon, kiddos,” Chantrea said darkly “I think we’re in for a speech.”
Happy Go Lucky Thank god for Jim!
Member
Seen
8 yrs ago
-null-
Song Book First book off the shelf.
Member
Seen
1 yr ago
Angie looked around at the conversation. FInsihing off her meal. Each and everyname popping up was registered for a face. Poping off one of her flats she grabbed a peice of candy by the looks of it from her shoe. She simply unwrapped the wrapping on it popping it in her mouth a few seconds later.
God did she hate people who couldn't control there selves. It was like watching one of those shit drama's online. Start out well, middle goes to shit with egotistical characters popping in. Ending is just as shit filled. Shaking out her hair a bit, she contiuned watching the scene unfold. THis Kessler she couldn't tell if he was just an ass to everyone, or he was a shit headed big mouth. either one was equally as bad. This shadow girl she also noted was probably gonna find someone to clash with. She didn't mind not being noticed, she enjoyed being alone listening to the machines. Then the fuck noticed her.
FUck he's (@Happy Go Lucky) coming this way. I though I could observe the animals from afar damnnit!
"Im so so sorry for ignoring you, unless you were ignoring me, in which case, golly that's some heretical shit right there! Names Kessler, you probably know that. Kessler Brigs! I'm bubbly, merry, and I'm literally the great thing to ever exist since dynamite!" YEp totally just a shit headed bigmouth. "What's your name? I take it a bitch like you, all anti-social like would either be as fucking batty as a old lady with dementia or just meat ready to be diced." She smirked at this, he was falling into her trap of fakeness. "Honestly, what's your reason for being here? Get enough money for a boob job? Because I almost mistook you for having a dick! Hahah!... I'd still fuck you though!" She really couldn't care less. Keeping the smirk on her face she took notice of the armored people walking in before responding.
" And I mistook you for a psychotic little bitch, not a little bichy ass-hat. So we both were wrong." Saying this in hawks voice not her normal one. She finished this her sentence paying attention back to the armored men. The smirk never leaving her face. The Mention of Paris sparking interest. She knew she didn't answer her question. if he proved to be useful he would get a name. Other than that he was just another fuck face who thinks she's useless.
God did she hate people who couldn't control there selves. It was like watching one of those shit drama's online. Start out well, middle goes to shit with egotistical characters popping in. Ending is just as shit filled. Shaking out her hair a bit, she contiuned watching the scene unfold. THis Kessler she couldn't tell if he was just an ass to everyone, or he was a shit headed big mouth. either one was equally as bad. This shadow girl she also noted was probably gonna find someone to clash with. She didn't mind not being noticed, she enjoyed being alone listening to the machines. Then the fuck noticed her.
FUck he's (@Happy Go Lucky) coming this way. I though I could observe the animals from afar damnnit!
"Im so so sorry for ignoring you, unless you were ignoring me, in which case, golly that's some heretical shit right there! Names Kessler, you probably know that. Kessler Brigs! I'm bubbly, merry, and I'm literally the great thing to ever exist since dynamite!" YEp totally just a shit headed bigmouth. "What's your name? I take it a bitch like you, all anti-social like would either be as fucking batty as a old lady with dementia or just meat ready to be diced." She smirked at this, he was falling into her trap of fakeness. "Honestly, what's your reason for being here? Get enough money for a boob job? Because I almost mistook you for having a dick! Hahah!... I'd still fuck you though!" She really couldn't care less. Keeping the smirk on her face she took notice of the armored people walking in before responding.
" And I mistook you for a psychotic little bitch, not a little bichy ass-hat. So we both were wrong." Saying this in hawks voice not her normal one. She finished this her sentence paying attention back to the armored men. The smirk never leaving her face. The Mention of Paris sparking interest. She knew she didn't answer her question. if he proved to be useful he would get a name. Other than that he was just another fuck face who thinks she's useless.
The idea of which he would rather be called hadn't occurred to him until he observed Darius' expression. Thankfully, they seemed friendly which was a breath of fresh air for Kaite whose ears perked up and turned to the boy he had conversationally approached. Typically, grafts like with what Kaite seemed to have didn't come with muscle control. Yes, they were real.
"Sorry if it vahs rude" he apologized in the context of considering Darius' potential preference to have rather introduced himself. "N'yes, uhm...I vould prefer 'Jericho', if you may" Kaite continued before taking a big confident bite of his sandwich and almost choking for a second before managing it, getting a little carried away with his borderline shocked disbelief that humans so polite existed in a place like this when all he had previously seen was...well...
"Honestly, what's your reason for being here? Get enough money for a boob job? Because I almost mistook you for having a dick! Hahah!... I'd still fuck you though!"
" And I mistook you for a psychotic little bitch, not a little bichy ass-hat. So we both were wrong."
...yeah.
Kaite polished off the sandwich with another bite, taking time to delicately and thoroughly wipe his mouth and hands with the grip of napkins, folding the last one and putting it in his pocket, just in case. Listening to the soon to be group work out their differences would have been interesting if he didn't have his attention torn by the handsome human who he's found.
Seeing Darius react to the mention of Paris, Kaite lifted an eyebrow. With the context Tas had used the word, it could mean anything from a misspeak of 'prison' to some sort of test. Kaite was aware that Darius was likely as new to the scene as he was, and the fact that he already had knowledge about it meant that it was probably something that existed outside the world of Embrace. Choosing to try and not look like a fool, Kaite went about forming the question, "Paris?" which was voiced with a tone as if he didn't understand. One of his ears tilted to the side, resting on the flat of an antler blade to accent their expression, although perked at the sound of the door opening.
Assuming it was another student, he pretended not to notice until seeing the others look up and Tas mention something about a speech. Curiosity got the better of him as he turned his head to see the armored figures which instilled a slight sense of dread with a side of fear, reflected by his ears flattening back against his head. His eyes darted to the occupants of the table as if looking for an invitation to run, although he wasn't going to be the first in the event that it was a bad idea.
He hoped it was just a speech.
Apokalipse AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Banned
Seen
2 mos ago
Blue was late. Fortunately, Blue did not care that she was late. Matter of fact, since the others were probably socializing at this point, it gave Blue a great opportunity to scope out the newly formed cliques, so to speak. And because of this, Blue didn’t bother to hurry as she walked down the corridor, her hand following her on the wall. When she saw the doors and heard the noise of annoying teenage pests, Blue sighed and stopped for a moment.
“I am in a paradise, on an island where no idiot has ventured. The waves are lapping at my feet and the sand is getting between my toes. And in my hair. And in my clothes. God damn, I hate sand. What the fuck am I doing? I should’ve pictured Antarctica, no bitch goes there.”
With her core supposedly “calmed,” Blue opened the doors with a bang and strutted in, her hands in her jeans pockets – Blue didn’t care for uniforms. The brunette didn’t want to eat, so she ignored the food table, but instead she glanced at the groups that have formed.
The loners were clumped slightly together with space in between, and most importantly, the loud people from earlier. It was that older girl Tas, the loudmouth girl, and some psychopath by the sounds of it. Despite Blue’s aversion towards the three, it was a dog-eat-dog-world and the number one rule to survival in a high school-like setting (you know, but with guns and blades) was to find the toughest kids and befriend them. Blue strolled up to the table and plopped down next to them, leaning her head on her hand. The moment she sat down, the blond psychopath turned to talk to some other girl and Blue half-heartedly listened in.
“Man, why are you guys so aggressive?” Blue muttered, turning towards Tas and…Shadow? Who names their kid Shadow? Well, to be fair, her name was a color. Blue happened to be an aggressive person as well, but she wasn’t aggressive right off the bat like this. These people just seem unstable. How are they supposed to work together? Missions are going to be impossible and Blue will be lucky if she gets out alive. At this rate, she needs to find an order within this disharmonious group, but they wouldn’t listen to her. Blue is not the leader, and she has no chance to become the leader since Tas has already established herself as the one with experience and the strongest. Blue had no choice but to wait and watch for Tas to fuck up so she could take the chance and ensure her survival.
When the door opened, Blue had only spared an uninterested glance until Tas said something about the speech and Blue decided she needed a good luck at the silhouettes in order to curse them well. If others were going to come here and gives a speech, why did they bother sending Tas anyways?
“I am in a paradise, on an island where no idiot has ventured. The waves are lapping at my feet and the sand is getting between my toes. And in my hair. And in my clothes. God damn, I hate sand. What the fuck am I doing? I should’ve pictured Antarctica, no bitch goes there.”
With her core supposedly “calmed,” Blue opened the doors with a bang and strutted in, her hands in her jeans pockets – Blue didn’t care for uniforms. The brunette didn’t want to eat, so she ignored the food table, but instead she glanced at the groups that have formed.
The loners were clumped slightly together with space in between, and most importantly, the loud people from earlier. It was that older girl Tas, the loudmouth girl, and some psychopath by the sounds of it. Despite Blue’s aversion towards the three, it was a dog-eat-dog-world and the number one rule to survival in a high school-like setting (you know, but with guns and blades) was to find the toughest kids and befriend them. Blue strolled up to the table and plopped down next to them, leaning her head on her hand. The moment she sat down, the blond psychopath turned to talk to some other girl and Blue half-heartedly listened in.
“Man, why are you guys so aggressive?” Blue muttered, turning towards Tas and…Shadow? Who names their kid Shadow? Well, to be fair, her name was a color. Blue happened to be an aggressive person as well, but she wasn’t aggressive right off the bat like this. These people just seem unstable. How are they supposed to work together? Missions are going to be impossible and Blue will be lucky if she gets out alive. At this rate, she needs to find an order within this disharmonious group, but they wouldn’t listen to her. Blue is not the leader, and she has no chance to become the leader since Tas has already established herself as the one with experience and the strongest. Blue had no choice but to wait and watch for Tas to fuck up so she could take the chance and ensure her survival.
When the door opened, Blue had only spared an uninterested glance until Tas said something about the speech and Blue decided she needed a good luck at the silhouettes in order to curse them well. If others were going to come here and gives a speech, why did they bother sending Tas anyways?
GM
Kingfisher Observing or participating?
Member
Seen
4 yrs ago
The dining hall fell silent as Vhul strode into it. Good. he thought Perhaps I won’t have to be teaching these kids some fucking respect, after all . He marched past the assembled students, flanked by two armoured guards, striding up to the tall metal podium at the far end of the hall.
“You all know why you’re here, so I won’t bother with introductions.” He announced in a calm, clear voice, which carried across the room.
“We have equipment, classes, and simulations accessible to the students here at the Sanctum, but these systems are expensive, and we can’t afford to make the available to every single young person that steps off the submersible.” He explained, stone faced and devoid of emotion.
“This is where your first assignment comes in; to separate the strong from the dead.”
The holographic screen Vhul flickered to life with a burst of blue and orange light, displaying an authentic looking logo.
“Maison de masques,” Vhul narrated, his back still the screen “I’m sure you’re all familiar with the Alterus Corporation’s leading fashion and cosmetic megacorporation, operating out of Paris. Maison De Masques specialise in cosmetic surgery and organ replacements, outfitting their clients with top-of-the range body parts, to stay ahead of the latest fashion crazes. They employ a variety of models to showcase these body parts, selling them faces, arms, legs, breasts, and whatever else on loan.”
A slight shimmer of light, and the screen projected a hologram of a lean man with a piggish face and slim brown eyes, dressed in a dark business suit. A ridiculously eccentric blonde quiff erupted from the top of his head, and he had a permanent sneer plastered across his puffy pink lips.
“Marcel Beauchée.” Vhul announced solemnly “Your target.”
The Captain paused for a moment, clearing his throat loudly before he continued.
“Mister Beauchée recently inherited the company from his father, Sebastian Beauchée, and has already begun employing extremely vicious business techniques to stay ahead of his competitors. Our client is the poster girl for Maison de masques’ new range: Madame Monique Leauombre”
The screen flickered again, depicting a curvaceous young woman with broad hips and platinum blonde curls. She had sparkling sapphire eyes, deep red lips, and a full bosom.
“Madame Leauombre has worked at Maison de masques for several years, and is currently modelling the ‘Bombshell body parts’ line, but wants to move on and do different things.” Vhul explained calmly.
“However, she’s been presented with a problem; her likeness is on loan from the Maison de masques for several billion, and if she were to leave now then her face would be reclaimed by the company.” Vhul’s dark brown eyes settled on the students. “Madame Leauombre wants us to go in, take out Marcel, thus giving one of our umbrella companies the option to takeover Maison de masques, liquidated it, and allow our young bombshell to keep her face.”
“Unfortunately, an obstacles emerged.” Vhul said darkly.
“Instead of coming straight to us, Madame Leauombre opted to use a cheaper alternative to take out Marcel, who failed in their job. Thankfully, the hitmen weren’t traced back to Madame Leauombre, but Marcel’s brought in extra security as a safety percussion.”
Another flicker of light, and now the screen displayed a plain-faced, dark haired man with a strong jaw and steely grey eyes.
“Nadim Price. Ex-SAS field medic, with seven years working in private security, and twenty as an Alterus assassin. He’s Marcel’s personal bodyguard, and you’ll need to factor him out of the equation before taking on Marcel himself. Nadim is a formidable opponent, but he has a weakness….”
The screen flashed again, depicting a dark haired teenage girl who bore a slightly resemblance to Nadim facially.
“His daughter, Nardia. They share an apartment together, paid for by Marcel. Exploit Nadim’s family connections, and you may have the opportunity to avoid a direct confrontation with him. It’s up to you.”
Vhul cleared his throat once more “You’ll be posing as interns working at Maison de masques, under the cover of helping out with their next catwalk event. I suggest you all get some rest and prepare yourselves, the submersible leaves in a few days.”
And with that, Vhul strode out of the dining hall.
“You all know why you’re here, so I won’t bother with introductions.” He announced in a calm, clear voice, which carried across the room.
“We have equipment, classes, and simulations accessible to the students here at the Sanctum, but these systems are expensive, and we can’t afford to make the available to every single young person that steps off the submersible.” He explained, stone faced and devoid of emotion.
“This is where your first assignment comes in; to separate the strong from the dead.”
The holographic screen Vhul flickered to life with a burst of blue and orange light, displaying an authentic looking logo.
“Maison de masques,” Vhul narrated, his back still the screen “I’m sure you’re all familiar with the Alterus Corporation’s leading fashion and cosmetic megacorporation, operating out of Paris. Maison De Masques specialise in cosmetic surgery and organ replacements, outfitting their clients with top-of-the range body parts, to stay ahead of the latest fashion crazes. They employ a variety of models to showcase these body parts, selling them faces, arms, legs, breasts, and whatever else on loan.”
A slight shimmer of light, and the screen projected a hologram of a lean man with a piggish face and slim brown eyes, dressed in a dark business suit. A ridiculously eccentric blonde quiff erupted from the top of his head, and he had a permanent sneer plastered across his puffy pink lips.
“Marcel Beauchée.” Vhul announced solemnly “Your target.”
The Captain paused for a moment, clearing his throat loudly before he continued.
“Mister Beauchée recently inherited the company from his father, Sebastian Beauchée, and has already begun employing extremely vicious business techniques to stay ahead of his competitors. Our client is the poster girl for Maison de masques’ new range: Madame Monique Leauombre”
The screen flickered again, depicting a curvaceous young woman with broad hips and platinum blonde curls. She had sparkling sapphire eyes, deep red lips, and a full bosom.
“Madame Leauombre has worked at Maison de masques for several years, and is currently modelling the ‘Bombshell body parts’ line, but wants to move on and do different things.” Vhul explained calmly.
“However, she’s been presented with a problem; her likeness is on loan from the Maison de masques for several billion, and if she were to leave now then her face would be reclaimed by the company.” Vhul’s dark brown eyes settled on the students. “Madame Leauombre wants us to go in, take out Marcel, thus giving one of our umbrella companies the option to takeover Maison de masques, liquidated it, and allow our young bombshell to keep her face.”
“Unfortunately, an obstacles emerged.” Vhul said darkly.
“Instead of coming straight to us, Madame Leauombre opted to use a cheaper alternative to take out Marcel, who failed in their job. Thankfully, the hitmen weren’t traced back to Madame Leauombre, but Marcel’s brought in extra security as a safety percussion.”
Another flicker of light, and now the screen displayed a plain-faced, dark haired man with a strong jaw and steely grey eyes.
“Nadim Price. Ex-SAS field medic, with seven years working in private security, and twenty as an Alterus assassin. He’s Marcel’s personal bodyguard, and you’ll need to factor him out of the equation before taking on Marcel himself. Nadim is a formidable opponent, but he has a weakness….”
The screen flashed again, depicting a dark haired teenage girl who bore a slightly resemblance to Nadim facially.
“His daughter, Nardia. They share an apartment together, paid for by Marcel. Exploit Nadim’s family connections, and you may have the opportunity to avoid a direct confrontation with him. It’s up to you.”
Vhul cleared his throat once more “You’ll be posing as interns working at Maison de masques, under the cover of helping out with their next catwalk event. I suggest you all get some rest and prepare yourselves, the submersible leaves in a few days.”
And with that, Vhul strode out of the dining hall.
Kaite blinked in slight disbelief after the nameless figures left. He was starting to notice a pattern. With the twitch of a finger, the man known as Marcel Beauchée appeared on his arm. He couldn't explain how the person looked familiar, but there were probably a million other humans that looked just as stupid that he might've seen in his time people watching back home.
Home...
Zeis iz home, now.
Unt zehy are my family?
Hey! Don't give me zeht look!
Vee haf been over zeis...
With another light flicking motion, the mission notes scrolled up to take the place of the man's face. I had no interest in the woman whom I found repulsive; getting into so much trouble over being so fake that her very existence was- do zeh szink vere you put imagery into your verds! Iz mine favourite part of your monologues~
...Likened to a puppet with all of her parts coming with strings and complimentary plastic plates. To top it, we were expected to threaten a man's family so that we can more easily get to his employer and ruin his livelihood. Oh tch, look at him and his record. He'll get over it.
Before he knew it, Kaite was already panning through the bodyguard's information as well as his daughter, having no recollection of having changed files. He decided to roll with it as he glanced back up at Darius. "Zeis isn't like making a spooky phone call. If he knew zeht vee knew, everyszink vould fall apart..." he mused, an ear twitching as he subconsciously reached for the empty space which was once inhabited by his sandwich. Frowning at the realization, he instead stood and took his and Darius' empty trays to the return counter.
In all honesty, Kaite was greatly disturbed by their mission. It wasn't just the target or the client which he despised equally for their sins, but the idea of so quickly going back to a megaclinic was something he had no intention of doing. Not for any reason or any amount of money would it ever be pleasant. The mere consideration of even hearing reference to another butcher-clone pit was enough to make him nauseous with a flicker of an anxiety attack. He hung by the trash, recomposing himself.
He knew that he had a plan involving his involvement with the mission, but it would very easily be the worst idea in his life.
...Maybe I should be in charge of procuring the daughter.
The job would be easy enough, hang around and make sure she doesn't escape and then make a call to 'daddy dearest' when the job goes down. Maybe give her a little cut for motivation to be extra convincing when explaining that he'd kill her if he didn't let the suspicious interns off his boss.
I love zeht little glint in your eye vehn you know you haf to be bad~
Maybe I can verk him into helpink us vith zeh promise of my pay, iz not like I need zeh money since room and board iz free. I may not need to hurt her...
Zehr you go, ruiningk a good thing...
You honestly believe zeht iz zee hard part?
Kaite's attention was obviously on the rest of the group as if expecting them to devolve back to snarling animals at the first chance they could get. He wondered if they even had thoughts about the mission, since they still had a few days to work out their problems and undoubtedly cause more along the way.
But no, the problem wasn't with trying to get them to cooperate. It was with starting. What would he say? 'Oh, sup dudes! I have just the perfect idea about threatening people's jobs and family health!
Ehh... I see vaht you mean.
I'm probably goink to try and talk to zehm, individually.
Here's to hopink zeht you have enough time...
Best get started.
Kaite rested his hand on his chair as he caught himself staring, silently hoping they hadn't noticed. Turning his attention back to Darius, he offered a small 'ehem' before saying, "So...dude...I haf just zee perfect idea regardink kidnappink a girl unt threatenink her father."
He'd composed the words to sound facetiously sarcastic, an attempt at humor to make light of the situation and coincidentally, break the ice.
Home...
Zeis iz home, now.
Unt zehy are my family?
Hey! Don't give me zeht look!
Vee haf been over zeis...
With another light flicking motion, the mission notes scrolled up to take the place of the man's face. I had no interest in the woman whom I found repulsive; getting into so much trouble over being so fake that her very existence was- do zeh szink vere you put imagery into your verds! Iz mine favourite part of your monologues~
...Likened to a puppet with all of her parts coming with strings and complimentary plastic plates. To top it, we were expected to threaten a man's family so that we can more easily get to his employer and ruin his livelihood. Oh tch, look at him and his record. He'll get over it.
Before he knew it, Kaite was already panning through the bodyguard's information as well as his daughter, having no recollection of having changed files. He decided to roll with it as he glanced back up at Darius. "Zeis isn't like making a spooky phone call. If he knew zeht vee knew, everyszink vould fall apart..." he mused, an ear twitching as he subconsciously reached for the empty space which was once inhabited by his sandwich. Frowning at the realization, he instead stood and took his and Darius' empty trays to the return counter.
In all honesty, Kaite was greatly disturbed by their mission. It wasn't just the target or the client which he despised equally for their sins, but the idea of so quickly going back to a megaclinic was something he had no intention of doing. Not for any reason or any amount of money would it ever be pleasant. The mere consideration of even hearing reference to another butcher-clone pit was enough to make him nauseous with a flicker of an anxiety attack. He hung by the trash, recomposing himself.
He knew that he had a plan involving his involvement with the mission, but it would very easily be the worst idea in his life.
...Maybe I should be in charge of procuring the daughter.
The job would be easy enough, hang around and make sure she doesn't escape and then make a call to 'daddy dearest' when the job goes down. Maybe give her a little cut for motivation to be extra convincing when explaining that he'd kill her if he didn't let the suspicious interns off his boss.
I love zeht little glint in your eye vehn you know you haf to be bad~
Maybe I can verk him into helpink us vith zeh promise of my pay, iz not like I need zeh money since room and board iz free. I may not need to hurt her...
Zehr you go, ruiningk a good thing...
You honestly believe zeht iz zee hard part?
Kaite's attention was obviously on the rest of the group as if expecting them to devolve back to snarling animals at the first chance they could get. He wondered if they even had thoughts about the mission, since they still had a few days to work out their problems and undoubtedly cause more along the way.
But no, the problem wasn't with trying to get them to cooperate. It was with starting. What would he say? 'Oh, sup dudes! I have just the perfect idea about threatening people's jobs and family health!
Ehh... I see vaht you mean.
I'm probably goink to try and talk to zehm, individually.
Here's to hopink zeht you have enough time...
Best get started.
Kaite rested his hand on his chair as he caught himself staring, silently hoping they hadn't noticed. Turning his attention back to Darius, he offered a small 'ehem' before saying, "So...dude...I haf just zee perfect idea regardink kidnappink a girl unt threatenink her father."
He'd composed the words to sound facetiously sarcastic, an attempt at humor to make light of the situation and coincidentally, break the ice.
Song Book First book off the shelf.
Member
Seen
1 yr ago
Angie watched the armored men walk out of the hall. So their mission was to supposedly to infiltrate the staff of this company, get rid of the body guard in someway, and take out the owner of the company. Sounds like a hack job she did, except it was blackmailing, And she had more information on subject. The client kinda repulsed her, the fact of having your face remodeled completely just for fashion, even if its for a job, repulsed her. Pushing back the thought she continued chewing the candy. Family connections were always the downfall of anyone. For guards its even worse of a deal. So this seemed easy. She just had to get into character. Which is perfectly easy for her.
How would the week die. It seems if they planned this right they could avoid all deaths. In anything. She thought she would be the least likely to be spotted as fake out of all of them. Though she didn't know how the others would clean up.
Shaking out her hair again she though better of leaving. Incase there was more... information to be found. Though she thought of joining in the conversation. By the sound of it alone she wouldn't like it. The other one sounded more promising but she didn't really know what to say to join in. Its not like she had to talk to get information.
So instead she though of ways to get close to the owner. If she could hack into a database and get through three firewalls in less than three minutes she could sneak her way up to the head guys side. Going back from her planning to pay attention to the conversations forming around she stared blankly at her hands.
How would the week die. It seems if they planned this right they could avoid all deaths. In anything. She thought she would be the least likely to be spotted as fake out of all of them. Though she didn't know how the others would clean up.
Shaking out her hair again she though better of leaving. Incase there was more... information to be found. Though she thought of joining in the conversation. By the sound of it alone she wouldn't like it. The other one sounded more promising but she didn't really know what to say to join in. Its not like she had to talk to get information.
So instead she though of ways to get close to the owner. If she could hack into a database and get through three firewalls in less than three minutes she could sneak her way up to the head guys side. Going back from her planning to pay attention to the conversations forming around she stared blankly at her hands.
GM
Kingfisher Observing or participating?
Member
Seen
4 yrs ago
A few days later
The jumble of students converged on Secundarium Dock in the early hours of the morning, slowly shambling onto the deep-sea transport that bobbed up and down in the opening of calm water at the end of the pier. The Submersible resembled a great long metallic tube, with a huge glass-like dome at its centre. Two steely pincers used for transporting cargo back and forth protruded from the front of the submersible, and duel fuel cells were welded onto its back.
Chantrea rubbed the sleep from her eyes, letting out a loud open-mouthed yawn as she pulled her hemp coat tightly over her large frame. The young woman’s blonde/red hair was tied up in pig tails, and thick bags hung under her emerald green eyes. She was makeup-less, having planned to put it on during the trip.
A fierce breeze was tearing through the dock, slipping in through the large arch at the end of the see-through chamber which led to the dark blue waters above. The Submersible hummed loudly, its mechanical engine whirring away, as it rocked gently back and forth in the current.
The plan was simple; Take the submersible to London, then board the Euro-shuttle to Paris and the mission would be underway.
Chantrea shuffled sleepily onto the Submersible, taking a leaping step off of the metallic dock, over a thin sliver of sea water, and through the vessel’s circular open door. The interior of the deep sea transport was vast and roomy, with long rows of leather seats and felt covered tables lining its sides. The young woman found herself a spacious booth in the corner, chucking her large backpack down onto the seat next to her, before opening up a holographic mirror through her head implant and beginning to apply dark red lipstick.
Kaite's expression froze, the joking emotion washed from his face as he had to do his part to follow up on the statement. The inquisitive mind would immediately question his aversion to stay with the group, and an observant mind would understand though ask why he wanted to be tasked with securing the opening in security. With all of this, he found his tongue tied into knots. Every inch of him knew or assumed he could confide in Darius, but the risk of being asked questions...
It was a simple question that came out as joking as Kaite had proposed it, but the joke worked a bit of himself to consider what exactly he was proposing.
"A leader...?" Kaite whispered into his reflection in his mirror, the scene actually taking place a day later after he had ungracefully trailed off in the shared laugh with Darius before pretty much walking off without a word. His reflection cocked an eyebrow, leaning forward and tilting an ear in his direction, expectantly.
Vaht do you vahnt from me...?
I need you to need me.
Kaite set the mirror down, rubbing his eyes before getting up from his kneeling position to check that the chair was securely wedged to hold the door shut. He wasn't sure what he was so afraid of, but paranoia was starting to win the fight after almost 60 hours without sleep. He hadn't come out of the room for any longer than it took him to snag something from the mess hall when nobody else was around, leaving his 'plan' to stagnate in the array of notes he'd taken while researching as much as he could about the mission. He only took the time to try to sleep on the day before the mission.
A series of rumors sprung up of some kind of creature lurking the armory at the same time a repeating hand-crossbow and a compound armored bodysuit went missing...as well as odd scraping sounds coming from the new recruits' section of the barracks that stopped when a few new recruits had been woken up by it and tried to investigate. Breakfast-table discussion included speculations that one of the new recruits was a cannibal that only found time during the night to skin their victims, and other suggestions claimed that the recruit barracks were haunted by the vengeful spirits of insane recruits that were sent to their deaths on their first missions...or something in between.
~The morning of the mission~
Kaite munched on a potato he'd requested the machine servers in the mess hall to inject with an egg and simply bake that way. He was the first one at the submersible docks by a long shot, having been forced to wait until the alarm went out to even be let through the bulkhead. He didn't risk repercussions from hacking the door controls, though he poked at the system defenses from different angles until cracking a few authorization codes which led him to the 'open bulkhead' options. Certain alarms would go off if the button had been pressed, but he treated it more like the way anyone else would see a phone game.
The first one on, he found a spot near the back, taking two seats with himself and the small violin case. The instrument was left back in his room and it was assumed that the case was the closest/only thing he had to a luggage bag/chest. The air-tight box contained his shortsword, his axe bandolier, a single change of clothes and room enough for his new prize...a pump-action repeating hand crossbow which he had across his lap with one leg crossed over the other.
Clad in the armored bodysuit with his usual attire folded on top of his 'luggage' save for a pair of white short-shorts and middrift-exposing tight white t-shirt which he wore with "füd." printed on the front. Obviously stolen or old...but not for men although he didn't seem to care in the slightest. It would be quite revealing if not for the aforementioned bodysuit which went to far as to even cover his otherwise bare feet, his boots sitting on their side on the pile.
All the while, he eyed up the spring system of the small clip to the crossbow while gently feeding eerily whitish-tan bolts into it and popping them out as he went to assure himself that the system wouldn't jam.
His ears were relaxed, almost limp, keying into one of the only things truly out of place from the equation other than the shadows he did not have under his eyes...was the tiny spikes of where his antlers once were, the new growth already showing signs of whittling. He slid a clip into place, aiming the device at the floor for safety measures as he noticed Darius and Tas enter the sub. He took hold of the side-handle with his right hand and noisily cocking the weapon with a powerful motion before bracing it against his shoulder and grabbing the string, pushing the trigger with his pinkie and leaning close to watch while gently sliding a bolt out the end with a thoughtful "Huh..."
He proceeded to dislodge the clip and feed the still-good bolt back into the clip, repeating the ejection ritual while offering a wave to Tas and Darius, his ears perking up. "Sleep vell...?" He joked, heavy on the deadpan as he judged their appearances, showing confidence with the lack of people around them.
It was a simple question that came out as joking as Kaite had proposed it, but the joke worked a bit of himself to consider what exactly he was proposing.
"A leader...?" Kaite whispered into his reflection in his mirror, the scene actually taking place a day later after he had ungracefully trailed off in the shared laugh with Darius before pretty much walking off without a word. His reflection cocked an eyebrow, leaning forward and tilting an ear in his direction, expectantly.
Vaht do you vahnt from me...?
I need you to need me.
Kaite set the mirror down, rubbing his eyes before getting up from his kneeling position to check that the chair was securely wedged to hold the door shut. He wasn't sure what he was so afraid of, but paranoia was starting to win the fight after almost 60 hours without sleep. He hadn't come out of the room for any longer than it took him to snag something from the mess hall when nobody else was around, leaving his 'plan' to stagnate in the array of notes he'd taken while researching as much as he could about the mission. He only took the time to try to sleep on the day before the mission.
A series of rumors sprung up of some kind of creature lurking the armory at the same time a repeating hand-crossbow and a compound armored bodysuit went missing...as well as odd scraping sounds coming from the new recruits' section of the barracks that stopped when a few new recruits had been woken up by it and tried to investigate. Breakfast-table discussion included speculations that one of the new recruits was a cannibal that only found time during the night to skin their victims, and other suggestions claimed that the recruit barracks were haunted by the vengeful spirits of insane recruits that were sent to their deaths on their first missions...or something in between.
~The morning of the mission~
Kaite munched on a potato he'd requested the machine servers in the mess hall to inject with an egg and simply bake that way. He was the first one at the submersible docks by a long shot, having been forced to wait until the alarm went out to even be let through the bulkhead. He didn't risk repercussions from hacking the door controls, though he poked at the system defenses from different angles until cracking a few authorization codes which led him to the 'open bulkhead' options. Certain alarms would go off if the button had been pressed, but he treated it more like the way anyone else would see a phone game.
The first one on, he found a spot near the back, taking two seats with himself and the small violin case. The instrument was left back in his room and it was assumed that the case was the closest/only thing he had to a luggage bag/chest. The air-tight box contained his shortsword, his axe bandolier, a single change of clothes and room enough for his new prize...a pump-action repeating hand crossbow which he had across his lap with one leg crossed over the other.
Clad in the armored bodysuit with his usual attire folded on top of his 'luggage' save for a pair of white short-shorts and middrift-exposing tight white t-shirt which he wore with "füd." printed on the front. Obviously stolen or old...but not for men although he didn't seem to care in the slightest. It would be quite revealing if not for the aforementioned bodysuit which went to far as to even cover his otherwise bare feet, his boots sitting on their side on the pile.
All the while, he eyed up the spring system of the small clip to the crossbow while gently feeding eerily whitish-tan bolts into it and popping them out as he went to assure himself that the system wouldn't jam.
His ears were relaxed, almost limp, keying into one of the only things truly out of place from the equation other than the shadows he did not have under his eyes...was the tiny spikes of where his antlers once were, the new growth already showing signs of whittling. He slid a clip into place, aiming the device at the floor for safety measures as he noticed Darius and Tas enter the sub. He took hold of the side-handle with his right hand and noisily cocking the weapon with a powerful motion before bracing it against his shoulder and grabbing the string, pushing the trigger with his pinkie and leaning close to watch while gently sliding a bolt out the end with a thoughtful "Huh..."
He proceeded to dislodge the clip and feed the still-good bolt back into the clip, repeating the ejection ritual while offering a wave to Tas and Darius, his ears perking up. "Sleep vell...?" He joked, heavy on the deadpan as he judged their appearances, showing confidence with the lack of people around them.
Song Book First book off the shelf.
Member
Seen
1 yr ago
Finding her self up at 5 ish didn't really bother Angie. Giving her time to carefully plan and put on her outfit; her grey tank with the vest along with her light blue skirt and her blood red flats. A quick brush of mascara as usual and light pink lipstick was next. A few brushes and her short hair was unknotted. She knew it was mission day, and keeping up her shy apperence had made it the entire time without revealing anything about her to her comerads.
Her plan was simple, wiggle her way up to the top guys side. From there teamwork would be needed. Packing up her bag she inserted the tablet in a secret compartment. Just to keep it safe. Along with other things she would need. Going to the main hall, she told the machine to just give her some toast with butter. Finding it quite filling she made her way seemingly undisturbed by the commotion around her to the loading docks. There was some gossip along the meal tables, but she barely listened to it. Her mind was on memorizing most of the lay-out of the sanctuary. Trying to put together a good excuse for her backstory. And gathering intel on the boss of this company.
It wasn't bad being how she was. Finding herself less stressful than when she was alone In the world. Having human voices did somewhat keep her relaxed. Though the same went for robotic voices. Though they never really spoke to her.
Carrying the small bag on her shoulder she entered the submersible looking around with a happy smirk on her face. Angie found a seat one away from Tas, placing her bag in the space between Tas's bag and her. Okay team lets not fudge this up.
Her plan was simple, wiggle her way up to the top guys side. From there teamwork would be needed. Packing up her bag she inserted the tablet in a secret compartment. Just to keep it safe. Along with other things she would need. Going to the main hall, she told the machine to just give her some toast with butter. Finding it quite filling she made her way seemingly undisturbed by the commotion around her to the loading docks. There was some gossip along the meal tables, but she barely listened to it. Her mind was on memorizing most of the lay-out of the sanctuary. Trying to put together a good excuse for her backstory. And gathering intel on the boss of this company.
It wasn't bad being how she was. Finding herself less stressful than when she was alone In the world. Having human voices did somewhat keep her relaxed. Though the same went for robotic voices. Though they never really spoke to her.
Carrying the small bag on her shoulder she entered the submersible looking around with a happy smirk on her face. Angie found a seat one away from Tas, placing her bag in the space between Tas's bag and her. Okay team lets not fudge this up.
Happy Go Lucky Thank god for Jim!
Member
Seen
8 yrs ago
-null-
© 2007-2024