Azseth

Surviving: The End. (Season 1) (CLOSING, look for reboot!)

Name: Christian Joseph Darly (Chris or CJ)
Group: Walker
Age: 31
Occupation: Former Marine. Prisoner.
Family life: Most of his family was murdered.
Hair: Brown.
Eyes: Hazel.
Weight: 200 pounds.
Picture:
Blood type: B-.
Immune: Yes.

Gear: He has a pack with a mix mash of clothes. He always, always looks for socks. He has a Smith and Wesson MP15 (AR15) with (2) twenty round magazines. He has another 36 rounds in a baggie in his pack. He carries a Taurus 9mm revolver with 6 rounds chambered and 3 in the same baggie as the other ammo. He also has another baggie with miscellaneous rounds he's acquired that he cannot use immediately. He then has a hatchet, an old KBar, and a pocketknife. In another grocery bag, he has an assortment of hygiene and medical supplies. He also carries a can of WD40 and paratrooper cord, about 12 feet.

Bio: His life is a series of highs and lows, always to the extreme. Unfortunately for Chris, the lows seemed to always dominate everything else.

As a kid, he was born and raised by his parents in Indianapolis. His father worked as a manager at a chain of mechanic shops which paid fairly well and his mother worked at one of the stores as a receptionist. The both made good money and that allowed him to play football and wrestle in junior high school and take boxing lessons. Two days after taking the state championship in his weight division though, tragedy struck. While driving home from a family dinner, a drunk driver fell asleep at the wheel, cut across the median, and hit the family vehicle. Chris was asleep at the time but his parents and the other driver were all killed.

He felt like he had lost everything, and he felt alone.

Chris went to stay with his aunt and uncle who lived close by, hoping that less change would help him cope and deal with the loss. In high school, he was quiet and withdrawn and while his grades were not horrible, they paled in comparison to his grades before the accident. His uncle and aunt tried to help where they could but nothing seemed to work. The only things he seemed to enjoy were wrestling and football, but eventually football wasn’t an option because his aunt and uncle could not afford it. He stuck to wrestling and boxed when he could.

His last year of school, he struggled mentally. He was apathetic and struggling to find SOME thing in his life because he didn’t know where he was, who he was, or what he wanted to be. That all changed when he talked to Sergeant Bonders, a Marie Corps recruiter. What he laid out in front of Chris, he ate up and at that point, Chris seemed to have this light about him. For the first time in as long as he could remember, things seemed to make some sense. Even his family noticed it and while they were nervous, they were happy and supportive.

He was 19 when he went to bootcamp after spending some time in the delayed entry program, but when he got to Parris Island, he continued down a path of success and personal growth. He finally seemed to know who he was. He became an infantry man and hit fleet just in time to head over to Fallujah.

And part of him would never leave.

As Marines geared up and got ready to take back the city from insurgents, morale was high and the Marines were excited, ready to kick down doors and slay bodies. When they were sent in, they did just that, and it was a thrill ride and rush like no other. They had taken a few casualties, but so far, no KIAs.

Things were crazy and it was during the second week of combat operations where things took a drastic turn. His squad was given orders, and they did, but they didn’t know that this 3 story home was going to be one that was heavily fortified. After a fierce firefight, there were 6 Marine casualties, and Chris moved them all out of the fight, one after another, then went back in to clear the building. Succcessfully.

There were 14 insurgents inside, 9 of which Chris was personally responsible for killing. Of the 6 casualties, 4 later died of wounds suffered in the fight. Because of his actions, he was awarded the Navy Cross, the second highest award besides a Medal of Honor. People congratulated him, he had his moment of fame, and he was bitter and resented ever moment of it. Every picture. Every handshake. Every thank you. Because he was given a medal for failing to bring home 4 of his brothers.

He felt like he lost everything. He felt alone. Even with his family and friends there.

He returned home and his transition back into society was rough. He started drinking heavily and isolating himself. He wasn’t working and living off of unemployment for a few years, then finally started going to the Hospital of Veteran Affairs for treatment. It was there that he met Maggie, and his life changed forever.

She was what he was missing and she helped bring him to a new level of happiness. She was supportive but assertive and kept him moving in the direction that he needed to. Eventually, they married and had two children. He began to get closer to his family and things were great. Eventually, he started going to school and using the GI Bill, eventually landing a job at a bank.

A year later, his family decided to host a reunion and the entire family went out to California out in the mountains. It was the first time the family was together in almost its entirety since before the death of his parents. Those circumstances are what make the outcome all the more tragic.

In the late hours of the night, unbeknownst to anyone there, a cartel hitsquad was on its way to the gathering. One of the family members were directly involved with the Mexican government and was part of a group leading a push to remove the Cartels from power. Obviously, this didn’t go over to well. It was extremely uncommon that an American would be targeted in America, but tonight was one of those exceptions.

Whether the entire family was a target or not would never be known, but the silent night exploded into gunfire and screams. Chris managed to wrestle a shooter to the ground and take his weapon, shooting that man and two others before getting hit in the back of the head and falling forward. As his head swam, someone stepped over him and fired a shot.

He woke up some time later in a hospital to find out his family was dead. All of them. His wife and kids included. He survived because the shot fired at his head was at an angle, just enough to cause a ricochet and a concussion. The muzzle flash burned the skin to prevent him from bleeding and he now has a golfball sized scar on the back of his head.

He felt like he had lost everything. He felt alone, even with a nation behind him.

Eventually, he was a witness in a case, as the head of the Cartels was caught and brought to the US on various charges, prosecuted on a joint investigation by the US and Mexico. He testified as to what happened, but the truth of the matter is that there was little case there. He had not seen faces, heard anything, and was not reliable. He was there to show the terror of what the Cartels were capable of. The case was a failure and the Cartel Lord was found guilty of some parking fines and made to pay both the governments a small sum of money. The Cartel lawyer did a great job.

The lawyer and the Lord walked out, down the steps, and stood in front of cameras, answering a few questions. They shook hands, smiled, and amidst the flashes a round ripped into the head of the Cartel Lord, and another two into the lawyer. There were screams and panic, and when the area cleared, Chris stood there with his hands up in the air. He was arrested immediately.

Initially, there was fear that there would be attacks on his life, but the power vacuum created in Mexico meant that all the other Cartels were now trying to grab what they could, and it was a bloody mess. He was given a lawyer who profusely pushed him to claim insanity, or loss of control, something that would get his sentence altered and keep him out of an actual prison.

He wouldn’t have it. At every step, even when counseled by his lawyer not to, he stood up and admitted to his actions and intentions, and that he would do it again. He stated he was willing to accept whatever the sentence was. He was given 2 life sentences despite nationwide protests and even government pushes to have him acquitted.

He could have done more to get less, but he would not. He didn’t care. If he stayed out of jail, he’d just drink himself to death or do something self destructive. Looking back, he realized his life meant nothing. No good had come of it.

He had lost everything. He was alone.

He was in prison for a year when he was transferred to another prison after an altercation. It was Valentine’s Day and he had his head on the window, his mind off somewhere distant when the bus swerved violently twice and then there was a loud crash. The bus came to rest on its side and he opted not to move. He didn’t care to be free.

What good was freedom when you had nothing? What would he do? What difference did it make.

“Chris, get up. Look.” He heard the voice and he shot up, gaze moving around. There was one other prisoner but he was dead, his neck twisted violently. He looked around again. “Chris. LOOK!” He heard the voice at the back door so he went and looked, trying to see the owner of the voice.

It was the voice of his wife. When he got to the back of the emergency exit, he looked froze.

It couldn’t be. He saw his son in a car. Screaming. And some man was trying to get into the car, banding on it and screaming. Chris found a piece of metal and picked the lock to his cuffs then kicked out the emergency exit and bullrushed the car. He didn’t know what he was up against, so he just gave the man a running punch to the side of the face. To Chris’ surprise, the man just jerked, looked back at him, and attacked.

He realized then that there was screaming everywhere, helicopters flying, and things breaking all around him. The man before Chris, he wasn’t a man. He was something else. His eyes weren’t the same and he had a wound on his neck. There was blood everywhere below his chin. And he was strong, gripping Chris and pulling him in with a strength that surprised him. Instead of fighting it, he pushed forward, setting the thing off balance so that they both fell, Chris landing on the other.

Before he had a moment to react, Chris was stunned as, before he could move, the man bit into his forearm. Sheer adrenaline shot through him and he pulled back, the wound bleeding slightly, and brought a few elbow and forearm shows down onto the...thing. After all movement below him stopped, he ripped a clean part of the man’s pants off and wrapped it around his wound.

He stood up and looked around, seeing no immediate threat and then looked back to the car where his son was, only to see a young black boy there. He looked around, confused, shaking his head. He didn’t see his son. He screamed for him, looking around. He couldn’t be far.

Then he heard a shotgun cock and he turned around, seeing a man with a shotgun and a woman behind him carrying random food and drink. “Get away from my son. Now.”

He did. Without a word. He was confused and angry, standing there with no idea where he was or where to go. He didn’t see his son, or his wife. Just people fleeing, some giving chase. He opted to find a room on a 2 level apartment and barricade himself inside with some supplies and a pistol he picked up off of a dead body.

He spend the next few nights having feverish dreams and hallucinations of his family, crying and screaming. And wishing he had the courage to put the gun to his head and pull the trigger.

Personality: Chris is crazy. To a degree. He hears voices, sees images, and at times is guided by his dead family. Not only them, but his former Marines. People he has met and seen die since the Rising. They are generally manifestations of his conscious telling him what to do, or his senses making something stand out to him that is going unnoticed.

He is prone to bouts of silent depression. He is grim and dire at times also, he is a realist. He has been hardened by his experiences and what the world has become and often is at battle with himself over decisions. That is when he starts to see and hear voices, as his thoughts, instincts, and morals all clash.

Surviving: The End. (Season 1) (CLOSING, look for reboot!)

Village of Pualmo. Just north east of Brasilia, Brazil.
June 26th. 2016. 0235 hours.
________________________________________
It was a war zone in every sense of the word. Recently, the LNO had been carving out areas of South America, battling cartels and governments, and winning. Eventually, the capital was taken and the US Embassy was surrounded, essentially being held hostage which led to a US and Brazilian led invasion to take back the compound.

Air raid sirens were going off, gunfire and small explosions were constant, and at this time of night, those various flashes lit up the night like fireworks. There were occasional screams, people yelling in the distance, and people running down the streets to flee when they thought it was safe. The smell was constantly changing. One moment, gunpowder was in the air, while the next it could be simply flames. The stink of death was there also, and so was the smell of destruction in the form of dust from any of the myriads of buildings that were destroyed to more or lesser degrees.

The night sky was not dark; it was lit up bright and orange and then riddled with huge, distinct beams of search lights. It was a war zone.

Itchy made his way through the streets, sticking as best he could to dark spots, keeping out of the open as often as possible. He was in Fallujah with Marine Force Recon and Syria with the U.S. Army and both were hellish. This, this was something else. This was an entire city tearing and shooting itself apart.

Itchy was alone, but he'd come here with a group of 3 SEALS. Unfortunately, one was wounded, and another killed, all because a girl with a doll was somewhere unexpected, and she screamed. Since then, the four had been under attack or avoiding patrols of LNO paramilitaries. When pinned down, the two men simply told Itchy to go, that they "got this." One injured man, limited ammo...Itchy figured they were dead and that they had given him the means to escape the building and get to the target. The whole revenge thing didn’t apply here, he wasn’t going to “get the objective for them” and all that. But he would accomplish the mission.

He could see the roof of the target building ahead and was about to exit an alley and cross the street when 2 modified Mercedez's ripped through the street. Itchy ducked back into the alley for a few moments before poking out his head and making sure it was clear. He raised his silenced M14 SOCOM to his shoulder and moved quickly across the street. He heard soldiers yelling, not more than 100 yards behind him, but that didn't concern him now.

He moved through the next alley and came to another street, one that was almost void of activity. One would not think that less than 50 feet away was the General of LNO, one of the most powerful and feared men in the world, a man capable of going to war with the United States and Brazil.

The man Itchy and the group had been sent to kill.

He moved across the street and along the front of a building when around the corner came two LNO soldiers. He would have let them go but they were about to turn in his direction. The first shot caught them both unaware as it took one in the temple. The second soldier hardly reacted, but turned fast enough to take this round in the right eye socket. Itchy moved and stepped over them, hardly noticing and not caring that one of those he stepped over was a boy that couldn't have been over 14. The AK 47 seemed to be bigger than both of his arms.

He dragged the bodies inside the building and continued on, peeking around the corner at the target building. Again he was about to turn the corner and make his way to the building when a small convoy of about 6 vehicles, including one armored personnel vehicle, raced up to the HVT's building and troops deployed in protective circles. Obviously, they were there to move the General. Itchy cursed under his breath and decided on a rather simple plan. Not the smartest, not the safest, but the objective was the objective. He could worry about consequences later.

He waited for a moment or two, but laid down on the floor in the prone position, the most stable for firing, and he began to relax, finding his breath and focusing. The General walked out a moment later, stopped to point and bark an order that he never finished, because from less than 50 yards away, Itchy fired a 7.62mm round that ripped through the man's neck. The men around him raced into action, a few shielding the body of the General while the vast majority of the over 40 men focused on where the shot had been fired from, and that focus was in the form of dozens of rounds being fired every second. Itchy moved quickly, feeling and hearing rounds whip past and impact homes and the ground around him. He went to take cover in a building but as he was, soldiers behind him opened fire and an SUV shot around the corner and opened fire. Itchy moved to the alley, bullets slamming into the wooden home all around him, showering him with splinters.

He was almost at the end of the alley when he heard the distinct sound of an RPG behind him. He didn't move fast enough and projectile hit a dumpster behind him and Itchy was unconscious almost immediately.

For the next 2 hours and 28 minutes, Itchy was held and tortured by LNO members as he moved in and out of consciousness. When asked who he was, he'd give them his name and answer questions. "Justin Beiber. Delta Force. Here to kill Adolph Hitler. Remember the alamo." Most distinctly, he remembered the drill and how as it went in, it pulled his skin with it. And how it bit into bone. And the smell. He could hear screams, but they seemed far away. But they were his.

He remembered just hoping to die. He remembered those 2 hours and 28 minutes more clearly than almost any other event in his life.

Itchy KNEW he was going to die and was simply trying to make it happen sooner. At one point he blacked out as his body dealt with the pain, only to wake up to the room being lit up brightly, mainly from the outside via high intensity search lights. Someone picked his chin up and Itchy heard "--of ours" before passing out again. Jon could see that the man was out of it, in some state of shock, but he could see the man smiling when he came to. “You’re good brother,” Jon said. He was saved. By some unfortunate happenstance, coalition forces stumbled upon the building and breached. Itchy would live. He's also get a commendation. When it was handed to him, he looked up and saw a face. It confused him and he dropped the commendation as the boy looked at Itchy. It was one of the younger boys Itchy had killed, where and when, he couldn't remember. Maybe it was all of them.
________________________________________
CDC Facility, Fort Leonard Wood, MS.
October 30th 2017.
________________________________________
Jon sat up suddenly. He looked around, confused and panicked. The military channel was on the TV and there were explosions and gunfire as Marines fought in Hue City. He looked at his bed. His hands were on his back. He was sweating.

Something wasn’t right. He remembered the award being presented. There was no flashback then. The man accepted the award with a smile and a handshake. The problem was, this wasn’t the first dream. His dreams were slowly being invaded by distorted flashbacks. And more recently, he began to have flashes while losing focus while he was awake.

It had to be what was on the TV. Next time, he'd turn off the military channel and try to find baywatch or some show that would lead him to a lot more fun of a place. Then after over 7 months of isolation, something hit Jon. He went to the channel guide and began looking for SOME form of adult entertainment....

Surviving: The End. (Season 1) (CLOSING, look for reboot!)

@Azseth Due to the fact that we don't yet have what I call "that character" I have come up with this young man. We all know the character I'm talking about, the equivalent of Ben from the telltale Walking Dead games or the guy who overlooked the exhaust port on the Death Star. yeah, that guy.

@Vandy

Harris, in the CDC Group, is going to end up evolving into somewhat of a "that character," just for the record.

Az

Surviving: The End. (Season 1) (CLOSING, look for reboot!)

Open question: I know I have to do the ARMORY in the CDC Center, and iron out the CDC situation (which will happen IC a bit, and through the OOC), but is anything else lacking or missing that you are all aware of? If you are not comfortable calling me stupid here in the OOC, feel free to PM me.

Az

Surviving: The End. (Season 1) (CLOSING, look for reboot!)

@Vandy I never said I liked ANY of you!

Az

A Thin Blue Line - Paranormal Police RP. (Prologue and Azseth)

The day would be slow at first. Once they got to the Police HQ, they’d go through a few briefs, meet some detectives and brief the locals one what was happening. Tactical was gearing up and would be down there in about an hour. Essentially, at this point, it was the local PD’s job to go ahead and try to keep the area as safe as possible without letting the subject know what was happening.

Ken was fairly confident after the investigation and profile that the subject would not put up much resistance but one could never be too sure. That is one of the ASAs underlying objectives: reduce collateral damages as often as possible. Keep a lid on things. Make things at least appear to be in control.

The fallacy there was that it could be done. Every day, mundane criminals murdered, raped, and stole. It just didn’t make the headlines anymore, because the media worked its magic promoting fear and agendas.

After getting situated in the car and pulling out, Audrey started to talk, pulling Ken’s thoughts back into the vehicle. He listened to her mention both Asselta and Humes and grinned. It was somewhat annoying, but he was no fool. He knew that for the next few days, things would mainly focus on the new guy. It’s the nature of things like this.

The last part of her dialogue made him furrow a brow. He didn’t want to see fire before there was even smoke, so he didn’t say too much. “Asselta will do fine. She’s finally hitting her stride. I’m very content with her progress of late. And Humes.” He shook his head, but the motion could have been interpreted as him simply checking his mirror and traffic around him. “He seems Ok. I mean, shit, a better fit than a few of the other members, at least on paper. But yeah. Something is off. I mean, no one seems to want to say shit about him other than enough to be accused of NOT saying anything. I’ll talk to the Chief when he gets back, see what word he’s gotten.”

He took a drink from a bottle of water and continued. “Keep in mind, Detroit was a big city. It’s messy, rife with politics and corruption. He could be a dirty cop, or he could have done something right that pissed off the wrong person in power. We won’t know until we know. For the time being, let’s focus on this. I think this should go down smooth. Guy isn’t prone to violence, no priors, no drug abuse. We have the locals tailing him and once they get him in a spot where they can lock things down, they’ll radio us so we’ll be on standby until then. You up for this?”

He knew she was, the question was just to ruffle her a little bit. She’d know this and respond in kind, but he was eager to get her focus on where it needed to be, not off on two other detectives.

A Thin Blue Line - Paranormal Police RP. (Prologue and Azseth)

No worries. I just got one post done for the IC. If I don't finish Ken's today, I will in the morning.

Az

A Thin Blue Line - Paranormal Police RP. (Prologue and Azseth)

He was put off balance by her responses. Don’t be sorry, I’m not your boss, and the ‘enjoying control’ comment were all just coming in with mixed vibes and he wasn’t sure what was sarcasm, what was a snide remark, and what was genuine.

He hated first days.

There was an awkward silence where he found himself wanting to apologize after being told it wasn’t necessary to apologize, so he just kind of hung out there awkwardly when tasked with driving. He started it and adjusted a few things after putting on his seatbelt, not making a comment about the radio as it didn’t matter to him anyway.

Then, she asked a question, and while physically he didn’t react, inside, he cringed slightly. He’d have preferred the awkward silence to this question. The issue wasn’t really his past, or what had happened. He wasn’t ashamed of anything. The issue was not knowing what these people knew or didn’t know, and if they DID know something, what their thoughts were about him and his past. He found it odd that he thought of it as “his past” when in reality, everything started after he’d left...

He debated going one of the “it’s complicated” or “I don’t really talk about the past” routes, but all that did was left room open for more assumptions and raised more questions--neither of which he wanted. So he took a moment, feigning on focusing on exiting the parking structure before answering.

He opted to go with half truths, because they were always a lot more believable and lot less detectable than lies or deceptions. He also decided to add a little humor and see how it went. “Well, ever since I was a little boy, I dreamt of being that guy who saved the village from the boogy men, you know?” He gave his sideways smirk, assuming she was insightful enough to know that between the look, and tone, it was a joke. He turned out into the street and made his way to the address. He’d spent the last few weeks studying the roads and layout of the city as best he could. It wasn’t necessary, he knew, but it was an oldschool beat cop thing. If you were a cop and didn’t know the city, it could be the difference between someone living and dying. He didn’t want to depend on GPS if another officer, or a victim, was bleeding out in a house and he needed to get there.

“So anyway, my transfer. My command didn’t think too highly of me I guess. Working inner city, you get a lot of people claiming dirty cops, or brutality, and over there, it’s a political circus. When you have people, lawyers, news papers and politicians breathing down your officer’s necks, it rolls downhill. Sometimes, it’s easier to relieve pressure and make an example of one of your own than deal with the constant bullshit coming at you about what’s going on down on the streets. I guess I was that example.”

He took another few turns, looking around and trying to get a feel for the city. The whole time he was talking, he didn’t really look over at the passenger, for no real reason other than trying to focus. “I mean, it’s proof enough it’s bullshit because they didn’t fire me. If they had any legitimate dirt on me or anyone else, they’d have tarred and feathered him publicly before crucifying him.”

They stopped at a light and he took a moment to actually look over at her as he spoke. “So I got desk duty and looked for a way out. They looked for a way to say they ridded the department of a bad cop. Here I am. And working with--“ he caught himself almost saying ‘you people’ but caught himself, “supernaturals, honestly. It’s part of the job no matter where you go. Sure, here it’s the majority of the cases, but there, sometimes it’s an abusive husband. Next a drug dealer. Next a gang retaliation. And then you have some SNat burning down a liquor store. Another day in the office.” SNat was a term used by many local agencies, easier off the tongue than supernaturals.

He looked away from her and as the light turned green, and muttered something that over the noise of the car and the city, may have been lost to her ears unless she was paying attention. “The sky’s the sky, people are people. Everywhere you go, it’s all the same.”

“So, what’s your story. You’re a magical enhancer, right?”

Surviving: The End. (Season 1) (CLOSING, look for reboot!)

I actually have to spend some time on another RP I've been neglecting for all of YOU!

I'll be around, but not sure when I'll get around to more S: TE stuff.

Az

Looking to join a SL

@WhosThatGirl Hiya. I scared you away in the chat. So here I am to scare you away again.

Welcome to the site. Normally, this is where I say "check out the chat," but you've beat me to the punch.

Anyway, if you have questions about the site layout, feel free to ask me or anyone, there aren't too many DBs around here. But there are a few.

Here is THIS that you can peruse at your convenience if you feel up to it.

Go easy.

Az