Vess said
That's not good.
Off to a swimming start, aren't we? I'll try and contact them if they don't pop up in the next couple days.
Captain Jenno Member
Waltzing for Zizi
STATUS: "Gee Sam, this seems like the kinda case that requires the gentle, safe-cracking touch of the sociopathic, sausage-fingered freelance police." 9 yrs ago
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"Gee Sam, this seems like the kinda case that requires the gentle, safe-cracking touch of the sociopathic, sausage-fingered freelance police."
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Blue in Dallas
Bio
Rain pattered dismally against the office’s windows, made liquid brass by the faint glow of the streetlamps below, and streaked against the glass like tears. Once, the words “Jennofski & Jennofski” had been painted in gold across these jalouises… but now there was only an outline, a ghost that had lingered, long past its time, when the acid rain had taken the rest to its grave.
The Octo P.I. could sympathise with that.
But as long as he remained, those names would never be forgotten. Not in this, the office that had been his home, his sanctuary, and his prison.
A perfectly preserved memory, kept sealed within the bell jar of personal tragedy.
OctoP.I. sighed, deeply.
“Of all the octopode's profiles in all the world… you had to read mine.”
Hi all, Jenno here! Or Captain. I'm your resident blues harpist, and part time octopode! (But let's keep that between you and me, eh? Nobody suspects a thing.)
If you want to know anything just drop me a line via DMs and I'll get right back to you!
The Octo P.I. could sympathise with that.
But as long as he remained, those names would never be forgotten. Not in this, the office that had been his home, his sanctuary, and his prison.
A perfectly preserved memory, kept sealed within the bell jar of personal tragedy.
OctoP.I. sighed, deeply.
“Of all the octopode's profiles in all the world… you had to read mine.”
Hi all, Jenno here! Or Captain. I'm your resident blues harpist, and part time octopode! (But let's keep that between you and me, eh? Nobody suspects a thing.)
If you want to know anything just drop me a line via DMs and I'll get right back to you!
Most Recent Posts
Off to a swimming start, aren't we? I'll try and contact them if they don't pop up in the next couple days.
I've actually been meaning to ask, has anybody seen Gingerbread since that incident with the Moderator portraits?
Darkwolfsoul010 said
Guess who got another Axolotl today? (For free because he's sick and I have to make him better!)
Does this one glow in the dark as well?
Still here, just eerily silent. Settin' the mood for the, uh... the virus attack. Yeah, yeah that's it!
Hey there everyone, Jenno here! I'm the new co-GM, here to cause general mischief and disarray, so expect to see me around the plot posts from time to time!
Name: Zephyrus Anders
Age: 25
Race: Sheikah
Gender: Male
Appearance: Zephyrus stands at 6’2 and boasts a svelte, willowy figure, slender in frame and elegant in its movements. It exhibits mild muscle definition, but otherwise there is nothing about him to suggest he is particularly physically strong.
His hair curtains his face and ends at his chin in a series of platinum-blonde curls, and his skin is light and fair.
Despite his imposing height and choice of weapon- a long wooden staff tipped by a crimson-steeled blade- Zephyrus’ face is comprised of soft, gentle features, including a Greek nose, a set of soft, calm vermillion eyes and a small collection of faint freckles across either cheek.
His ears, of course, are pointed, and upon the back of both hands he has a red-inked tattoo of the Eye of Truth.
Zephyrus generally wears a suit of boiled leather armour, navy-blue in colour and skin-tight, as well as a black cloak in which he often wraps himself.
A guandao is strapped to his back, notable for the fact it’s blade is red. Around its upper quarter is a red rag of fabric, which blows in the direction of the wind.
Furthermore, Zephyrus wears a tattered, cream fabric scarf around his neck, which bares ancient Sheikah script which reads something along the lines of “pacing within the shadow of the goddess”, roughly.
Theme Song: [youtube]svnhNtZNFao[/youtube]
Personality: Reserved, Stoic, Loyal, Just, Determined, Reticent.
Backstory: Zephyrus was born and raised in an undisclosed Sheikah village to a father who served as a village sentinel, and a mother who was a trainer, and was a perfectly happy, healthy child.
When he was five, however, his father abandoned him and his mother in favour of pursuing an extramarital affair with an unnamed Hylian woman, leaving the two of them in the tatters of a broken home.
To compensate, Zephyrus’ mother became an overbearing matriarch who taught him rigorously, and Zephyrus withdrew into himself, developing an apathetic shell (rather than dealing with his emotions) and throwing himself into that training.
His mother died shortly before his nineteenth birthday, due to a stress-induced heart attack (no doubt the result of years of ceaseless physical exhaustion in her line of work), and- now without any family to turn to- Zephyrus was dispatched to Castle Town in order to serve the Royal Family, as most Sheikah are.
Until he was twenty, this changed nothing, and he remained somewhat distant, until one day he came across a conman named Archer, who claimed to be his brother: The son of his traitorous father.
Zephyrus was at first resentful, but soon realised Archer was the only family he had left, and took him under his wing with the promise that he’d “set Archer straight” (whether he wanted it or not.)
Since then, he’s slowly been coming out of his shell, but a jovial Zephyrus remains a distant fantasy.
Skills/Talents:
(1) Jeet Kun Do (FS) (PS)
Zephyrus is an experienced martial artist who, after training for decades, has internalised the idea that one should “flow like water” in general life, believing that being fluid is the key to success.
Because of this, he follows no pre-set school of combat, his style is purely adaptive and changes from battle to battle, only consistent in the sense that he moves quickly and flexibly throughout, one moment calm like the stream, and the next crashing down like a wave.
It’s this philosophy that also grants him his general dexterity, as it’s made him very nimble and quick over the years.
(2) Wind Magic (MS)
Much like his father before him, Zephyrus has inherited a small spark of magical talent, particularly when it comes to manipulating the air.
He’s practiced this skill extensively, often incorporating it in combat as a means of non-fatally dealing with a rival.
Although he isn’t capable of brewing tempests, he’s perfectly able to blast either himself or another (if light enough) a fair distance, or whipping up a dust-storm when in the possession of a polearm.
(3) Guandao Training (FS)
Of course, just because Zephyrus practices Jeet Kun Do doesn’t mean he goes unarmed.
He’s found that using a polearm is ideal for his particular brand of combat, because- unlike swords and bows- the art of using a staff is all about balance, and allows for the martial artist and the weapon to move in unison.
His guandao can also be used alongside his wind magic in order to generate a small tornado of sorts, ideal for whipping up dust-storms in a pinch, or…
(4) Shadow Magic (MS)
Fog.
What sort of “Shadow Folk” would Zephyrus be, had he no control over the shadows?
Although he considers both of his magical alignments to be equally important, his shadow magic is slightly lacking: He’s capable of joining the two to create a dense, black fog (which his brother has taken to calling ‘The fog of war’), ideal for confusing and outwitting an opponent, but by itself his shadow magic only allows for him to hide himself in the darkness, or else see what else is hidden there. He’s seen little other use for it, since he doesn’t want to endeavour into the territory of fatal magics.
(5) Parkour (PS)
A must-have for any thoroughly trained Sheikah. For Zephyrus, or indeed any well-taught member of his culture, the art of free running seems insignificant because of how common it is: It’s the Sheikah’s modus operandi for getting around without being seen, and their talent at it is nothing short of legendary.
(6) Sneaking (SS)
The Sheikah are taught to move like the wind, appearing and disappearing whenever the need presents itself, it’s part of why they’re called “Shadow Folk”.
As such, sneaking becomes second nature to them: Light footfalls are made without thought, and it takes little effort for them to switch to stealthy movements.
(7) Swimming (PS)
Zephyrus was taught to swim at a young age by his mother, not for any particular purpose other than the fact it’d be awfully embarrassing if a highly trained Sheikah warrior drowned in a creek somewhere.
Goal(s): - To one day set his brother Archer on the path of justice.
- To defend the denizens of Castle Town.
Inventory:
- A Guandao, tipped with a crimson-steeled blade. The point at which the blade meets the pole is embellished by a small, red strip of fabric which flows in the direction of the wind.
- A suit of boiled leather armour, blue
- A shoulder bag
- Deku Nuts
- … an irritating brother
Wallet: 50 Rupees
-----
Name: Archer Anders
Age: 20
Race: Hylian/Sheikah (recessive Sheikah genetics)
Gender: Male
Appearance: Much like Zephyrus, Archer inherited his father’s height, standing at 5’11 (just three inches short of his father and brother), and boasting a slightly more muscular, mesomorph build.
His hair is a dark chestnut brown, parted down the centre and ending just an inch or two short of his chin.
The dark colour compliments his eyes, which- due to his mother’s brown eyes and his father’s red ones- have turned out be a mahogany hue.
His skin is a shade of light olive, and his facial features are hard and defined, displaying a strong chin, and equally clear cheekbones, courtesy of the genetics derived from his mother’s side.
His ears are rounded, as opposed to pointed.
Clothes-wise, Archer is fairly inconspicuous: He wears a pair of slightly worn denim pants which’re a shade of deep navy blue, and a worn leather jacket scarred by creases and scratches.
He also wears a thick wrapping of bandages around his knuckles, and looks to carry no weapons.
Theme Song: [youtube]WJRoRt155mA[/youtube]
Personality: Charismatic, Deceptive, Sportive, Venturesome, Keen, Fiery
Backstory: Archer was born as the result of an extramarital affair between a young, poverty-stricken Hylian woman and a Sheikah ex-sentinel who’d abandoned his family with the supposed intention to wed her.
Of course, men like Archer’s father- cheaters- rarely held to their word, and when Archer was three, his father fled again, no doubt in order to rendezvous with another woman (although this has never been confirmed.)
Poor and now in the possession of a child, Archer’s mother couldn’t afford to feed herself whilst caring for him, and died of malnutrition when he was five: He remembered very little of her, but recalled vividly that she’d told him of his brother’s existence before her death.
He was taken to an orphanage, and lived there until he was ten years old, at which point he ran away, not because he’d been mistreated but because he thought he could find his father.
He was mistaken, and soon found himself living on the street: That is, until he was taken under the wing of a kindly street magician, who in all actuality was a conman.
He lived in Castle Town for only a few years before moving onto his next mark, but during this time he taught Archer the tricks of his trade, and also how to defend himself should another con move in on his territory.
Soon, he was scamming the Castle Town’s residents for his next meal, and making a fairly good living of it, too: That is, until he was caught in the act by a particularly vigilant Sheikah.
Archer had thought his goose truly cooked, until he looked into that Sheikah’s face and saw his father’s eyes looking back at him: When he explained that the two of them were brothers, the Sheikah- surprisingly- spared him, but only on the condition that Archer would agree to reform himself.
“Pffft, sure.”
Skills/Talents:
(1) "Sleight of Hand” (PS)
Years of performing magic tricks and picking pockets have left Archer with a great deal of manual dexterity, making him rather adroit at both activities.
(2) Muay Thai (FS)
Performing (and stealing) on the streets is risky, both because others will try to encroach on your bracket, and because those whose territory you’re performing in might feel they’re owed payments.
When push comes to shove, you need to learn to fight: And that’s exactly what Archer’s master taught him.
Archer fights using a full-contact, unarmed martial art that utilises boxing punches, kicks and elbow strikes in order to protect himself (or deal damage).
More often than not, this is made even more dangerous by the fact he’s in possession of…
(3) Fire Magic (MS)
Much like his father and brother before him, Archer possesses an aptitude for magic, but is more inclined towards fire than the more “neutral” elements.
His understanding is simple at best, and his use of it, for the most part, is not particularly unique: He’s capable of hurling the occasional fireball, same as the next pyrokinetic, and is able to form shapes with his flames.
Where Archer’s fiery attitude really shines through is combat, because he’s prone to lighting his fists on fire when a battle gets truly heated in order to deal some extra damage.
(4) General Magic Tricks (PS)
Archer has gathered a small collection of fairly involving magic tricks over the years, from simple playing-card tricks to full-blown pyro-displays, and everything in between. Archer can dazzle and amaze with flaming doves, and pick some pockets in between, as though it were his calling in life.
(5) Free Running (SS)
Sometimes when trouble comes your way, you can’t just beat it up and hope it stays gone.
For example, when the Guards start approaching you about your less than reputable business, it’s best to simply disappear.
In lieu of shadow magic, though, running is the next best option.
Years of dodging the law and laying low until everything has blown over has given Archer the ability to see the quickest paths available to him, and take them without a thought: He’s learned to clamber onto a rooftop and bound off out of sight as a means of survival.
It has nothing to do with his Sheikah heritage, however: It seems all that truly affected was his aesthetics.
(6) First Aid (SS)
Archer has spent much of his life on the streets, fighting off rival entertainers, or being fought off himself. As a result, he’s sustained his fair share of wounds, and over the years has simply learned how to manage them.
He’s no surgeon, but if it’s a flesh-wound he’ll manage it, provided you’re in his good books.
Goal(s): - To strike it big in show business
- To show his killjoy brother how to walk on the wild side.
Inventory:
- One deck of actual playing cards
- One deck of fixed playing cards
- A roll of gauze for his knuckles
- A leather jacket
- A card satchel
Wallet: 14 Rupees.
Name: Zephyrus Anders
Age: 25
Race: Sheikah
Gender: Male
Appearance: Zephyrus stands at 6’2 and boasts a svelte, willowy figure, slender in frame and elegant in its movements. It exhibits mild muscle definition, but otherwise there is nothing about him to suggest he is particularly physically strong.
His hair curtains his face and ends at his chin in a series of platinum-blonde curls, and his skin is light and fair.
Despite his imposing height and choice of weapon- a long wooden staff tipped by a crimson-steeled blade- Zephyrus’ face is comprised of soft, gentle features, including a Greek nose, a set of soft, calm vermillion eyes and a small collection of faint freckles across either cheek.
His ears, of course, are pointed, and upon the back of both hands he has a red-inked tattoo of the Eye of Truth.
Zephyrus generally wears a suit of boiled leather armour, navy-blue in colour and skin-tight, as well as a black cloak in which he often wraps himself.
A guandao is strapped to his back, notable for the fact it’s blade is red. Around its upper quarter is a red rag of fabric, which blows in the direction of the wind.
Furthermore, Zephyrus wears a tattered, cream fabric scarf around his neck, which bares ancient Sheikah script which reads something along the lines of “pacing within the shadow of the goddess”, roughly.
Theme Song: [youtube]svnhNtZNFao[/youtube]
Personality: Reserved, Stoic, Loyal, Just, Determined, Reticent.
Backstory: Zephyrus was born and raised in an undisclosed Sheikah village to a father who served as a village sentinel, and a mother who was a trainer, and was a perfectly happy, healthy child.
When he was five, however, his father abandoned him and his mother in favour of pursuing an extramarital affair with an unnamed Hylian woman, leaving the two of them in the tatters of a broken home.
To compensate, Zephyrus’ mother became an overbearing matriarch who taught him rigorously, and Zephyrus withdrew into himself, developing an apathetic shell (rather than dealing with his emotions) and throwing himself into that training.
His mother died shortly before his nineteenth birthday, due to a stress-induced heart attack (no doubt the result of years of ceaseless physical exhaustion in her line of work), and- now without any family to turn to- Zephyrus was dispatched to Castle Town in order to serve the Royal Family, as most Sheikah are.
Until he was twenty, this changed nothing, and he remained somewhat distant, until one day he came across a conman named Archer, who claimed to be his brother: The son of his traitorous father.
Zephyrus was at first resentful, but soon realised Archer was the only family he had left, and took him under his wing with the promise that he’d “set Archer straight” (whether he wanted it or not.)
Since then, he’s slowly been coming out of his shell, but a jovial Zephyrus remains a distant fantasy.
Skills/Talents:
(1) Jeet Kun Do (FS) (PS)
Zephyrus is an experienced martial artist who, after training for decades, has internalised the idea that one should “flow like water” in general life, believing that being fluid is the key to success.
Because of this, he follows no pre-set school of combat, his style is purely adaptive and changes from battle to battle, only consistent in the sense that he moves quickly and flexibly throughout, one moment calm like the stream, and the next crashing down like a wave.
It’s this philosophy that also grants him his general dexterity, as it’s made him very nimble and quick over the years.
(2) Wind Magic (MS)
Much like his father before him, Zephyrus has inherited a small spark of magical talent, particularly when it comes to manipulating the air.
He’s practiced this skill extensively, often incorporating it in combat as a means of non-fatally dealing with a rival.
Although he isn’t capable of brewing tempests, he’s perfectly able to blast either himself or another (if light enough) a fair distance, or whipping up a dust-storm when in the possession of a polearm.
(3) Guandao Training (FS)
Of course, just because Zephyrus practices Jeet Kun Do doesn’t mean he goes unarmed.
He’s found that using a polearm is ideal for his particular brand of combat, because- unlike swords and bows- the art of using a staff is all about balance, and allows for the martial artist and the weapon to move in unison.
His guandao can also be used alongside his wind magic in order to generate a small tornado of sorts, ideal for whipping up dust-storms in a pinch, or…
(4) Shadow Magic (MS)
Fog.
What sort of “Shadow Folk” would Zephyrus be, had he no control over the shadows?
Although he considers both of his magical alignments to be equally important, his shadow magic is slightly lacking: He’s capable of joining the two to create a dense, black fog (which his brother has taken to calling ‘The fog of war’), ideal for confusing and outwitting an opponent, but by itself his shadow magic only allows for him to hide himself in the darkness, or else see what else is hidden there. He’s seen little other use for it, since he doesn’t want to endeavour into the territory of fatal magics.
(5) Parkour (PS)
A must-have for any thoroughly trained Sheikah. For Zephyrus, or indeed any well-taught member of his culture, the art of free running seems insignificant because of how common it is: It’s the Sheikah’s modus operandi for getting around without being seen, and their talent at it is nothing short of legendary.
(6) Sneaking (SS)
The Sheikah are taught to move like the wind, appearing and disappearing whenever the need presents itself, it’s part of why they’re called “Shadow Folk”.
As such, sneaking becomes second nature to them: Light footfalls are made without thought, and it takes little effort for them to switch to stealthy movements.
(7) Swimming (PS)
Zephyrus was taught to swim at a young age by his mother, not for any particular purpose other than the fact it’d be awfully embarrassing if a highly trained Sheikah warrior drowned in a creek somewhere.
Goal(s): - To one day set his brother Archer on the path of justice.
- To defend the denizens of Castle Town.
Inventory:
- A Guandao, tipped with a crimson-steeled blade. The point at which the blade meets the pole is embellished by a small, red strip of fabric which flows in the direction of the wind.
- A suit of boiled leather armour, blue
- A shoulder bag
- Deku Nuts
- … an irritating brother
Wallet: 50 Rupees
-----
Name: Archer Anders
Age: 20
Race: Hylian/Sheikah (recessive Sheikah genetics)
Gender: Male
Appearance: Much like Zephyrus, Archer inherited his father’s height, standing at 5’11 (just three inches short of his father and brother), and boasting a slightly more muscular, mesomorph build.
His hair is a dark chestnut brown, parted down the centre and ending just an inch or two short of his chin.
The dark colour compliments his eyes, which- due to his mother’s brown eyes and his father’s red ones- have turned out be a mahogany hue.
His skin is a shade of light olive, and his facial features are hard and defined, displaying a strong chin, and equally clear cheekbones, courtesy of the genetics derived from his mother’s side.
His ears are rounded, as opposed to pointed.
Clothes-wise, Archer is fairly inconspicuous: He wears a pair of slightly worn denim pants which’re a shade of deep navy blue, and a worn leather jacket scarred by creases and scratches.
He also wears a thick wrapping of bandages around his knuckles, and looks to carry no weapons.
Theme Song: [youtube]WJRoRt155mA[/youtube]
Personality: Charismatic, Deceptive, Sportive, Venturesome, Keen, Fiery
Backstory: Archer was born as the result of an extramarital affair between a young, poverty-stricken Hylian woman and a Sheikah ex-sentinel who’d abandoned his family with the supposed intention to wed her.
Of course, men like Archer’s father- cheaters- rarely held to their word, and when Archer was three, his father fled again, no doubt in order to rendezvous with another woman (although this has never been confirmed.)
Poor and now in the possession of a child, Archer’s mother couldn’t afford to feed herself whilst caring for him, and died of malnutrition when he was five: He remembered very little of her, but recalled vividly that she’d told him of his brother’s existence before her death.
He was taken to an orphanage, and lived there until he was ten years old, at which point he ran away, not because he’d been mistreated but because he thought he could find his father.
He was mistaken, and soon found himself living on the street: That is, until he was taken under the wing of a kindly street magician, who in all actuality was a conman.
He lived in Castle Town for only a few years before moving onto his next mark, but during this time he taught Archer the tricks of his trade, and also how to defend himself should another con move in on his territory.
Soon, he was scamming the Castle Town’s residents for his next meal, and making a fairly good living of it, too: That is, until he was caught in the act by a particularly vigilant Sheikah.
Archer had thought his goose truly cooked, until he looked into that Sheikah’s face and saw his father’s eyes looking back at him: When he explained that the two of them were brothers, the Sheikah- surprisingly- spared him, but only on the condition that Archer would agree to reform himself.
“Pffft, sure.”
Skills/Talents:
(1) "Sleight of Hand” (PS)
Years of performing magic tricks and picking pockets have left Archer with a great deal of manual dexterity, making him rather adroit at both activities.
(2) Muay Thai (FS)
Performing (and stealing) on the streets is risky, both because others will try to encroach on your bracket, and because those whose territory you’re performing in might feel they’re owed payments.
When push comes to shove, you need to learn to fight: And that’s exactly what Archer’s master taught him.
Archer fights using a full-contact, unarmed martial art that utilises boxing punches, kicks and elbow strikes in order to protect himself (or deal damage).
More often than not, this is made even more dangerous by the fact he’s in possession of…
(3) Fire Magic (MS)
Much like his father and brother before him, Archer possesses an aptitude for magic, but is more inclined towards fire than the more “neutral” elements.
His understanding is simple at best, and his use of it, for the most part, is not particularly unique: He’s capable of hurling the occasional fireball, same as the next pyrokinetic, and is able to form shapes with his flames.
Where Archer’s fiery attitude really shines through is combat, because he’s prone to lighting his fists on fire when a battle gets truly heated in order to deal some extra damage.
(4) General Magic Tricks (PS)
Archer has gathered a small collection of fairly involving magic tricks over the years, from simple playing-card tricks to full-blown pyro-displays, and everything in between. Archer can dazzle and amaze with flaming doves, and pick some pockets in between, as though it were his calling in life.
(5) Free Running (SS)
Sometimes when trouble comes your way, you can’t just beat it up and hope it stays gone.
For example, when the Guards start approaching you about your less than reputable business, it’s best to simply disappear.
In lieu of shadow magic, though, running is the next best option.
Years of dodging the law and laying low until everything has blown over has given Archer the ability to see the quickest paths available to him, and take them without a thought: He’s learned to clamber onto a rooftop and bound off out of sight as a means of survival.
It has nothing to do with his Sheikah heritage, however: It seems all that truly affected was his aesthetics.
(6) First Aid (SS)
Archer has spent much of his life on the streets, fighting off rival entertainers, or being fought off himself. As a result, he’s sustained his fair share of wounds, and over the years has simply learned how to manage them.
He’s no surgeon, but if it’s a flesh-wound he’ll manage it, provided you’re in his good books.
Goal(s): - To strike it big in show business
- To show his killjoy brother how to walk on the wild side.
Inventory:
- One deck of actual playing cards
- One deck of fixed playing cards
- A roll of gauze for his knuckles
- A leather jacket
- A card satchel
Wallet: 14 Rupees.
Here're your ratings:
An unrated virus, generally, is a very minor, easily disposable one. Otherwise, it's immensely dangerous, but that's very unlikely.
Anything lettered or titled is categorized as a "special" virus, which means it's likely huge and in charge of other smaller ones. They go as so:
C - Standard class virus.
B - High risk standard virus, approach with extreme caution
A - Alpha Virus, breeder of other viruses. Deal with extreme prejudice.
Categories One through Five - These are viruses that transcend the norm and are capable of infiltrating the data of human beings (not Moderators, who are made immune by their Initialisers.) They are the "colossi" of which the ancient Moderator myths talk, sometimes being the size of towers, othertimes cities. They are controlled directly by members of The Morbi as mobile war machines used in the sacking of cities. Their immense size means it's rare there's ever one at a time, though.
Category Omega - Only one has ever been recorded, and it escaped into the oceans before it was defeated. Category Omegas are not one virus, but a collection of hundreds of thousands of viruses moving as once.
They devour data faster than anything else on record, move quicker, hit harder and are essentially "the end" for which they are named.
A Category Omega is so deadly that it is advised that no lone Moderator Sector combats it. There is a continuity plan, named "Project Babylon", intended to be used instead, in which every Moderator sector will be temporarily transported to the battlefield in order to combat the threat.
An unrated virus, generally, is a very minor, easily disposable one. Otherwise, it's immensely dangerous, but that's very unlikely.
Anything lettered or titled is categorized as a "special" virus, which means it's likely huge and in charge of other smaller ones. They go as so:
C - Standard class virus.
B - High risk standard virus, approach with extreme caution
A - Alpha Virus, breeder of other viruses. Deal with extreme prejudice.
Categories One through Five - These are viruses that transcend the norm and are capable of infiltrating the data of human beings (not Moderators, who are made immune by their Initialisers.) They are the "colossi" of which the ancient Moderator myths talk, sometimes being the size of towers, othertimes cities. They are controlled directly by members of The Morbi as mobile war machines used in the sacking of cities. Their immense size means it's rare there's ever one at a time, though.
Category Omega - Only one has ever been recorded, and it escaped into the oceans before it was defeated. Category Omegas are not one virus, but a collection of hundreds of thousands of viruses moving as once.
They devour data faster than anything else on record, move quicker, hit harder and are essentially "the end" for which they are named.
A Category Omega is so deadly that it is advised that no lone Moderator Sector combats it. There is a continuity plan, named "Project Babylon", intended to be used instead, in which every Moderator sector will be temporarily transported to the battlefield in order to combat the threat.
Oliver eventually found some paltry peace in his solitude, reclining a little further into his seat as he bathed within the warm, enveloping glow of the monitor.
Perhaps- he supposed- it was being around people so keen and full of vigour that had left him in such a reticent (if not a little tart) state of being.
Jack, before them, had been that way: So intrepid and venturesome, keen to sail out into the titian sunset and leave him panting in the watery brume at his flank…
And the last thing Oliver needed was another shadow to live in.
There was no doubt in his mind that, one day, Malika would be training future Moderators-to-be in the art of combat, peppy then as she is now, and almost thrice as competent.
Kirina would probably be transferred to a far superior sector- perhaps Tokyo, to work with Jack- too, once she’d matured enough, and Juno…
… Well, Juno was bitter too, but she wasn’t him, so she probably had some skill or another the Administrators would one day call upon.
But Oliver… Oliver wasn’t going anywhere but down.
In the years to come, he would undoubtedly gain his reputation as the ”Most Mediocre Moderator Ever”, and be forcibly retired before his reflexes had the chance to deteriorate any further.
And following that, he would eventually fade from memory, replaced by some younger, fitter Red 101, until the history books remembered him only as “Oliver Baudwin – Brother of Jack”, and nothing more.
But these morbid futures only ever seemed to linger with him in the presence of his team… alone, he found relief in other thoughts.
For now, they surrounded his Initialiser: That sleek, black alloy which clung comfortably to his wrist, and resonated faintly with the pulsating energy of a Red Moderator.
They’d issued it to him, of all people: This tool, entrusted only to defenders of the Earth…
The best of the best.
True, in the case of the Proto-City Moderators, it had been a gesture of desperation: They’d selected the best of the worst, for fear of otherwise leaving themselves unguarded…
But still, the gesture was an immense one.
He’d taken his father’s role in a team of warriors, entrusted with the lives of millions…
And that idea touched him. The jacket he bore still weighed greatly upon him, but in these rare moments of deep thought, it seemed lighter somehow.
Slowly, Oliver reached out, brushing his fingertips against the warm metal of his Initialiser.
It was smooth, inviting, and…
“If you wish on something a lot, then it'll come true, that’s what Mum told me," A new tone piped up, suddenly.
”Jesus Christ we’re under attack!” was Oliver’s first thought, although it did him little good.
His palm suddenly slammed against his Initialiser, barely- very barely- missing the Modifier trigger, which would’ve activated his hookshot.
But quickly enough, he realised who’d spoken up, and breathed a- shaken- sigh of relief.
“H-Haah… hey, Marvin,” he spoke, tone quivering, steeling himself again.
He didn’t turn around.
“Give a guy a little warning, won’t y-”
"Is anything happening?"
“Gah!”
This time, he was not so fortunate. Jumping, Oliver’s thumb struck against his modifier, engulfing his fist in a massive sphere of writhing red energy- a cloud of data, composed of bijou, rapidly changing integers and binary- before sealing it into a crimson gauntlet, topped by a closed set of metallic talons.
Then, suddenly, what seemed like an ignition spark erupted from the gauntlet’s palm, before those same talons shot across the room suddenly, burying themselves in the closest surface- a brass wall- and wrenching Oliver across the room like a sack of rice tied to a tailgate.
He struck the wall with an unnervingly plosive thump, before sliding impotently down to the floor, leaving a small trail of vermillion in his wake.
He laid there in a heap for a few long moments, before groaning uncomfortably, and dragging himself into the sitting position.
He’d been fortunate: All he’d sustained was a busted lower lip. Still, it reflected very poorly upon the team as a whole that one of them had sustained an injury before their first assignment.
Oliver sat there for a few moments, before very slowly getting to his feet, his hookshot dissipating slowly into a cloud of glowing red spheres, before disappearing all together.
Then, he moved quietly and uncomfortably back to his seat, lurching to the left and right on occasion as he regained his bearings.
He fell back into his chair, before rotating it to face Marvin and Michelle.
He exhaled deeply.
“No, nothing is happening,” he spoke, eventually, after what must have been five seconds of silent chaos.
“Not a thing.”
But, as Sod’s Law would have it, something was about to happen.
Before Oliver even had the chance to rub his jaw and just generally feel sorry for himself, the Moderator’s logo which haunted the screen behind him began to spin rapidly, letting out a thrum of sharp, mechanical rings.
Oliver hadn’t even managed to turn around, before a new face appeared on screen.
She was a woman no older than thirty, with a coffee-coloured complexion and hair that fell in thick, glossy brown ringlets.
Her facial features were hard and defined- from her high cheeks to her sharp nose- and despite her eyes being a natural hazel, her left was a vivid electrical blue…
Because it was cybernetic, as were many other parts of her.
Officially, hair name was Alice, a sub-Administrator who had, at some point in the past, held the title of Green 03.
But due to her patchwork nature- having been implanted with a variety of cybernetics, following a potentially fatal accident- she garnered a nickname for herself.
The Ragdoll.
She scowled down at Oliver, eyes narrowed and lips curled into an irritable frown.
“Red 101,” she greeted, tone cold and hard as the metal which’d substituted much of her flesh.
“R-Rag- Alice,” he replied, head swimming still, “To what do we, uh…”
“You’re injured,” she acknowledged, “How on Earth has that occurred.”
She spoke as though her question needed no tonal change, monotonous and cool.
“I, uh… no idea what you’re talking,” the Australian murmured in reply, “Must be… must be something wrong with the camera. I’ll look at it later.”
“Hrm.”
“Y-Yeah. Anyway, is there something else I can help you with?”
Ragdoll didn’t reply, she simply threw her eyes around the place, scanning Marvin and Michelle closely.
“This is not your squadron.”
“U-Uh, the rest of them are upstairs, I think…”
“Ah, good,” she nodded, her voice softening very lightly, “You are clearly very into your civilian identities. Perhaps you are not quite so incompetent as I had previously surmised.”
”Oooh yes we are.”
“Yeah, they’re just closing up shop!”, Oliver continued, “We can’t all disappear at once, you know?”
“I do,” she nodded, “Well done, Red 101.”
“You, uh… you can just call me Oliver if yo-”
“Unfortunately, your work day does not end here, Red 101.”
“Oh…?”
Suddenly, Ragdoll’s head was compressed to a quart of the screen’s size, and moved to the bottom left as a new camera feed took over the majority of the display.
It was a scene of rippling, steaming water: Broiling sea brine, bubbling preternaturally and pushing all the ships within its vicinity outwards.
The supports of the wooden docks which seemed to flank the occurrence crumbled and broke beneath it, and smaller vessels began to sink beneath the waves as civilians on the mainland watched in a mixture of awestruck silence and outright panic.
Oliver blinked, dazedly.
“What am I looking at?”
“Your new assignment. Gather your team, we’ve got a class C virus attacking Proto-City’s eastern harbour.”
“Eastern harbour?! That’s a half hour away, we’ll never make it in time!”
Ragdoll sighed, shaking her head lightly as- to Oliver’s right- the eighth copper wall panel made a distinct, metallic clicking sound, symbolising that it’d finally been unlocked.
“Summon your team.”
And with that, Ragdoll- and the display as a whole- disappeared, leaving the Moderators alone and in stunned silence.
Oliver slowly turned to the staircase.
“… Guuuys?”, he called, eventually, “You, uh… you might wanna come down here.”
Perhaps- he supposed- it was being around people so keen and full of vigour that had left him in such a reticent (if not a little tart) state of being.
Jack, before them, had been that way: So intrepid and venturesome, keen to sail out into the titian sunset and leave him panting in the watery brume at his flank…
And the last thing Oliver needed was another shadow to live in.
There was no doubt in his mind that, one day, Malika would be training future Moderators-to-be in the art of combat, peppy then as she is now, and almost thrice as competent.
Kirina would probably be transferred to a far superior sector- perhaps Tokyo, to work with Jack- too, once she’d matured enough, and Juno…
… Well, Juno was bitter too, but she wasn’t him, so she probably had some skill or another the Administrators would one day call upon.
But Oliver… Oliver wasn’t going anywhere but down.
In the years to come, he would undoubtedly gain his reputation as the ”Most Mediocre Moderator Ever”, and be forcibly retired before his reflexes had the chance to deteriorate any further.
And following that, he would eventually fade from memory, replaced by some younger, fitter Red 101, until the history books remembered him only as “Oliver Baudwin – Brother of Jack”, and nothing more.
But these morbid futures only ever seemed to linger with him in the presence of his team… alone, he found relief in other thoughts.
For now, they surrounded his Initialiser: That sleek, black alloy which clung comfortably to his wrist, and resonated faintly with the pulsating energy of a Red Moderator.
They’d issued it to him, of all people: This tool, entrusted only to defenders of the Earth…
The best of the best.
True, in the case of the Proto-City Moderators, it had been a gesture of desperation: They’d selected the best of the worst, for fear of otherwise leaving themselves unguarded…
But still, the gesture was an immense one.
He’d taken his father’s role in a team of warriors, entrusted with the lives of millions…
And that idea touched him. The jacket he bore still weighed greatly upon him, but in these rare moments of deep thought, it seemed lighter somehow.
Slowly, Oliver reached out, brushing his fingertips against the warm metal of his Initialiser.
It was smooth, inviting, and…
“If you wish on something a lot, then it'll come true, that’s what Mum told me," A new tone piped up, suddenly.
”Jesus Christ we’re under attack!” was Oliver’s first thought, although it did him little good.
His palm suddenly slammed against his Initialiser, barely- very barely- missing the Modifier trigger, which would’ve activated his hookshot.
But quickly enough, he realised who’d spoken up, and breathed a- shaken- sigh of relief.
“H-Haah… hey, Marvin,” he spoke, tone quivering, steeling himself again.
He didn’t turn around.
“Give a guy a little warning, won’t y-”
"Is anything happening?"
“Gah!”
This time, he was not so fortunate. Jumping, Oliver’s thumb struck against his modifier, engulfing his fist in a massive sphere of writhing red energy- a cloud of data, composed of bijou, rapidly changing integers and binary- before sealing it into a crimson gauntlet, topped by a closed set of metallic talons.
Then, suddenly, what seemed like an ignition spark erupted from the gauntlet’s palm, before those same talons shot across the room suddenly, burying themselves in the closest surface- a brass wall- and wrenching Oliver across the room like a sack of rice tied to a tailgate.
He struck the wall with an unnervingly plosive thump, before sliding impotently down to the floor, leaving a small trail of vermillion in his wake.
He laid there in a heap for a few long moments, before groaning uncomfortably, and dragging himself into the sitting position.
He’d been fortunate: All he’d sustained was a busted lower lip. Still, it reflected very poorly upon the team as a whole that one of them had sustained an injury before their first assignment.
Oliver sat there for a few moments, before very slowly getting to his feet, his hookshot dissipating slowly into a cloud of glowing red spheres, before disappearing all together.
Then, he moved quietly and uncomfortably back to his seat, lurching to the left and right on occasion as he regained his bearings.
He fell back into his chair, before rotating it to face Marvin and Michelle.
He exhaled deeply.
“No, nothing is happening,” he spoke, eventually, after what must have been five seconds of silent chaos.
“Not a thing.”
But, as Sod’s Law would have it, something was about to happen.
Before Oliver even had the chance to rub his jaw and just generally feel sorry for himself, the Moderator’s logo which haunted the screen behind him began to spin rapidly, letting out a thrum of sharp, mechanical rings.
Oliver hadn’t even managed to turn around, before a new face appeared on screen.
She was a woman no older than thirty, with a coffee-coloured complexion and hair that fell in thick, glossy brown ringlets.
Her facial features were hard and defined- from her high cheeks to her sharp nose- and despite her eyes being a natural hazel, her left was a vivid electrical blue…
Because it was cybernetic, as were many other parts of her.
Officially, hair name was Alice, a sub-Administrator who had, at some point in the past, held the title of Green 03.
But due to her patchwork nature- having been implanted with a variety of cybernetics, following a potentially fatal accident- she garnered a nickname for herself.
The Ragdoll.
She scowled down at Oliver, eyes narrowed and lips curled into an irritable frown.
“Red 101,” she greeted, tone cold and hard as the metal which’d substituted much of her flesh.
“R-Rag- Alice,” he replied, head swimming still, “To what do we, uh…”
“You’re injured,” she acknowledged, “How on Earth has that occurred.”
She spoke as though her question needed no tonal change, monotonous and cool.
“I, uh… no idea what you’re talking,” the Australian murmured in reply, “Must be… must be something wrong with the camera. I’ll look at it later.”
“Hrm.”
“Y-Yeah. Anyway, is there something else I can help you with?”
Ragdoll didn’t reply, she simply threw her eyes around the place, scanning Marvin and Michelle closely.
“This is not your squadron.”
“U-Uh, the rest of them are upstairs, I think…”
“Ah, good,” she nodded, her voice softening very lightly, “You are clearly very into your civilian identities. Perhaps you are not quite so incompetent as I had previously surmised.”
”Oooh yes we are.”
“Yeah, they’re just closing up shop!”, Oliver continued, “We can’t all disappear at once, you know?”
“I do,” she nodded, “Well done, Red 101.”
“You, uh… you can just call me Oliver if yo-”
“Unfortunately, your work day does not end here, Red 101.”
“Oh…?”
Suddenly, Ragdoll’s head was compressed to a quart of the screen’s size, and moved to the bottom left as a new camera feed took over the majority of the display.
It was a scene of rippling, steaming water: Broiling sea brine, bubbling preternaturally and pushing all the ships within its vicinity outwards.
The supports of the wooden docks which seemed to flank the occurrence crumbled and broke beneath it, and smaller vessels began to sink beneath the waves as civilians on the mainland watched in a mixture of awestruck silence and outright panic.
Oliver blinked, dazedly.
“What am I looking at?”
“Your new assignment. Gather your team, we’ve got a class C virus attacking Proto-City’s eastern harbour.”
“Eastern harbour?! That’s a half hour away, we’ll never make it in time!”
Ragdoll sighed, shaking her head lightly as- to Oliver’s right- the eighth copper wall panel made a distinct, metallic clicking sound, symbolising that it’d finally been unlocked.
“Summon your team.”
And with that, Ragdoll- and the display as a whole- disappeared, leaving the Moderators alone and in stunned silence.
Oliver slowly turned to the staircase.
“… Guuuys?”, he called, eventually, “You, uh… you might wanna come down here.”
Post is being written. Sorry about the delay everyone, won't happen again.
Yes, sorry. As it turns out, having guests at Comicon time is surprisingly taxing and leaves little free time for writing.
Vivid Daydreamer said
>///< You're far too kind! Thank you so much, I'm really glad you enjoyed it! Th-that's..., oh my God *O* IT'S PERFECT <3 You must pass on my appreciation for that fine piece of work! TSTS would make a pretty kickass webcomic! If I was 10,000 times more talented and not the slowest person alive, I'd totally take on the challenge -- maybe one day! Anybody around here a comic artist in hiding? Anyways, headed off to the two week camp of doom in the morning, so I just wanted to drop in real quick and say bye! Can't wait to come back and rejoin you guys -- make lots of posts and give them to me as a present when I come back! :D P.S. If any of you want to write in a little cameo of Eva waking people up with surprise belly raspberries, I'll love you forever. P.P.S. Bonus points if she poses like Kamen Rider and calls herself The Raspberry Banditcause I've just fallen in love with her being a complete and utter nerdkay i'll stop being weird and go now
Heh, I actually did have plans for a TSTS webcomic but the artist fell through and proved very unreliable. Ah well, c'est la vie! She had more important things to do, I figured.
See you, enjoy camp! Don't torture the kids too keenly, unless they're total dweebs.
(also this just in: The Raspberry Bandit is in amphibious.)
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