DJAtomika

𝙳𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚘𝚜𝚝

@Poet I'm gonna make a shellshocked war and violent crime journalist, if that's okay with you.

𝙳𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚘𝚜𝚝

Not sure if you have space for players, but I'm stalking this RP because it's really good reading.

Mass Effect Andromeda: Frontier

Hazan Volintis

As Hazan linked up with the rest of the squad and moved forward, he caught wind of team 1's distraction. The bulk of the red triangles in his HUD moved away from the designated building the scientists were in and as the stealth team approached the door, Tazen and Serena got to work breaking open the shoddy welding work. His assessment of the situation needed some height, so when Tazen ordered him and Dex to cover their backs while Serena was breaking the door open, he didn't think twice about asking for permission to go up to the roof of the building.

"Sir, permission to head up to the roof to set up a sniper position?"

"Permission granted, Volintis."

And without further ado, Hazan folded and stowed his Viper onto his back as he ducked, narrowly avoiding a rifle burst from the Kett patrol that had spotted them. He broke into a run past the door and turned the corner, quickly assessing his terrain and identifying a low point where he could use the building's struts to his advantage. He took a running leap, planted a foot on a hand rail and used his momentum to jump upwards, grabbing onto one of the horizontal struts that ran over the structure's outside walkways and hauling himself upwards. From there, he circled round back to where his team was and ran towards one of the many raised air vents the building had, setting himself behind the vent to deploy his Viper. As he did so, Serena's three drones flew high in the sky and attracted fire from down below. He heard Serena and Tazen deal with the imminent threat directly beneath him and focused his attention on the Chosen that were slightly further away. The turian lined up his sights on a Chosen leaning out to fire at Serena's position, squeezed the trigger and watched its brains splatter across the desert sands. With his position now fully concealed by his tactical cloak after he'd fired off his first shot, scanning the field for his next target, Hazan laid in wait while the door was busted open and Ryria headed inside to tend to the wounded.

"Overwatch in position. Ready to fire on targets. And FYI Serena, that's one for me."

Mass Effect Andromeda: Frontier

Hazan Volintis

And just like that, the training exercise was over. Hazan picked himself up off the sand, groaning a little and rubbing a talon over where the Avenger round had impacted his stomach. Ryria was a good shot, far better than he'd expected out of the doctor that had woken him out of cryo. But all things considered, she would be a valuable addition to the team, especially since Firu wasn't exactly a doctor to begin with, just horribly obsessed with cybernetics. The 'simulation' had gone...well, to say it had gone smoothly was an exaggeration, really. The other members of the Borealis crew had clicked together like the days of old, but with the addition of new faces and personalities, it felt like a whole new ship and a whole new crew again. Granted, they were in an entirely new galaxy with their fair share of new problems. It didn't change the fact that he was now doing military stuff again and it felt really weird.

The turian dropped off his training gear and picked up his sniper rifle, shotgun and sidearm as the platoon moved over to their transports. Within moments, they were away to Site 1, a briefing being conducted by their leader during the flight. A bunch of Initiative squints had gotten cornered and trapped by the Kett at the site during a salvage mission, and already command had a plan to rescue them. Splitting up the heavy hitters from the lightweights, creating a diversion while the stealthy types got the scientists out unscathed sounded pretty, no, very typical for someone that came out of the STG. A (mostly) foolproof plan that had little in the way of complicated mechanics or other dumb things that could potentially screw up an op. Just like a salarian's mind.

Hazan stowed his thoughts and checked and rechecked his Viper all through the short hop from their base to Site 2, their staging ground, and had it unfurled and ready as soon as boots were on the sand. His job was to follow the other recon specialists to wheel around Site 1's perimeter, with Serena and Ryria at their backs for fire support in case things got ugly. His movements became automatic as he followed the squad, his mind drifting to contemplate other things, like the Kett. What were these... Kett? He'd gotten his first glimpses as pictures taken by settlers on Eos and they didn't look as tough as they were. Humanoid, weird green features, intense fanatical disposition towards anything that wasn't a kett. They had monsters too, weird things that could turn invisible at the blink of an eye and giant brutes that were bigger than even krogan. Against an organised military force like APEX, Hazan could understand their odds. He could only imagine what the initial colonists had gone through before they'd come along.

As the squad approached the rear of a particularly large lab building, Tazen stopped them. Hazan kept back but watched as the salarian mumbled something over to Dex, then turned to face them. Their orders were simple: stay put while he and Dex moved on ahead to canvas the base and figure out where the scientists were. Once done, they were going to finagle some sort of distraction to bring in Team 1 to give them enough cover to move in to secure their targets. Another typical STG plan, one he didn't approve of. He knew Dex well enough that she didn't approve of the STG either, but rules were rules and the military was the military. He could only grit his teeth (metaphorically) and allow his displeasure to rumble through his sub-vocals as they left. Saddled with Serena and Ryria, it felt like escort duty for VIPs all over again. Except his VIPs also carried guns. And Serena had her drones. And Ryria had her biotics. Fair enough, he figured.

Hazan stowed his displeasure and shouldered his rifle, moving just slightly ahead to take cover behind a rock outcropping, slowly scanning over the site. Kett were all over the place, his HUD displaying the enemies marked by Serena's drone in red squares. Team 1's blue triangles were further away, stationary as they waited for his team to finish up whatever it was they were doing. Suddenly his omnitool pinged with a general SOS, which made him raise an eye ridge. The scientists were still broadcasting? Then his attention turned back to the site as a group of five...Chosen, were they called? Chosen, that was it. A bunch of them grouped up and moved towards where the signal came from, while the blue squares that represented Tazen and Dex moved away. The scout put two and two together and realised that the SOS was most likely generated by Dex and used as a trap. His suspicions were confirmed when, not a few moments later, he felt rather than heard the distinctive electronic burst of an EMP through the slight fizzling of his shields, followed closely by gunfire from just ahead of him, while Team 1's triangles moved forward and gunfire began erupting from their positions as they moved to engage the main force. He raised a talon to his visor as he tracked the movements of the hostiles ahead of him, keeping his other talon off the trigger of his Viper. Dex's comms came in just in time; the Kett were scrambling, getting contacted from two sides at once and not knowing where to send the bulk of their forces within that one moment. As he watched Dex and Tazen's triangles make their way back towards the squad, he keyed his own comm.

"You couldn't have had better timing, Dex. Kett's in disarray. Got 'em reeling from that trap and Team 1 hitting them at the same time. We good to go, lead?"

The Rhythm of the Night

My sheet is about 75% done, but I'm super tired so I'll continue tomorrow.

Essence of the World: Flesh Reborn [Adv. Roleplay]

Mistakes Were Made

Next door to Holly Knight's apartment
11:30 PM

---

"Argh, le fils de pute. Stupid lock."

The Frenchman grumbled as he mangled his fingers (read: entangled his fingers in) with his key-ring. After a second of fumbling, he found the right key, jammed it into the slot and headed in to comfort and, well, home. The day, and by extension the night, had been exceptionally long for him. Unlike his neighbour who could clock off at a reasonable time, he had to stay behind to make sure his work was done just right. After all, he was the only chief medical examiner in the precinct, and with crime levels at an all-time high, he was neck deep in work processing the number of bodies that came through his morgue every day. It was driving him up the wall with how overworked he'd been in recent days, even with an assistant that he'd been given graciously by whatever higher-ups he had.

As he ambled into his apartment, he closed his door and locked it, testing the knob and jiggling the door to make sure it was properly locked like it always was. Then he tossed his keys precisely into the small bowl perched on the chest of drawers next to the door (where it'd always been) and hung his thick coat on the coat rack next to it. His satchel went onto the couch and the first thing he went for was the thermostat that he turned to his usual, comfortable 24°C. Not too hot, not too cold, especially in eastern France. After which he made his way into his kitchenette and poured himself a cold, stiff finger of whiskey on the rocks. Then, with his drink in hand, he stood by his apartment window and stared out at the city. He could just barely make out the sound of sirens in the distance, a constant companion to him ever since he'd joined the police department, seemingly the city's siren song to the masses, a reminder that Loom was a dangerous city; one you should never attempt to traverse at night.

Today was no different; he'd gotten through two (or three, the hours and bodies blurred) autopsies and post-mortems for two (or three) new cases, along with writing reports for two more that he had to submit by the next day at the latest. And the worst part was that he had to be early tomorrow to finish up, submit the reports, then start on the two (or three, merde he was getting old) new reports before he could even take a break.

At least he'd come home at a respectable time. Sometimes his neighbour Holly would come home even later, her keys rattling in her lock waking him from his slumber occasionally when her job called her away at unearthly hours. They were both law enforcement, so it was expected, but a part of him wished that, maybe, they'd both get a break one day. Holly was his only friend, after all. Someone he could trust enough to not feel like a total d'idiot if he asked her out for dinner and a drink.

After a while of mulling over his own thoughts and his whiskey, he retired to his bathroom for a hot shower, then to his bed, where he fell into a silent, blank sleep.

---

3 AM

The sounds of a struggle woke Jean-Phillipe from his slumber. His senses kicked into gear before his body did, alerting him of what was happening; a fight, Holly screaming, something heavy falling over, caused by her body impacting it. A new, unfamiliar person attacking her assailant, judging by the near-animalistic (and slightly muffled) growling through his wall. Groggy and still half-awake, the Frenchman jerked himself out of bed and dragged himself over to the door, trying to get the sleep out of his eyes as he unlocked his door and peeked over at his neighbour. No surprise, the door was ajar and wood chips and splinters littered the floor.

That woke him up.

"Merde- Holly?!"

In his fuzzy bedroom slippers, he rushed into her apartment to find her sprawled out on her sofa, which was upturned, and a mysterious younger man struggling on top of...something else entirely. Two thin slivers of shiny metal jutted from the bigger silhouette's back, no doubt weapons of some sort, which made JP look around for the nearest one for him. He caught sight of her coat, holster still attached and pistol still within, and reached for it, a hand pulling the heavy black handgun from its leather receptacle and pointing it at the two struggling men on the floor, both hands now clasped firmly around the grip. With one hand, JP flicked the off-white plastic hallway light switch into the 'on' position and mustered his best police voice.

"Je suis la police! Freeze!"

Only after shouting this did he remember that he, unlike her, did not have training with a firearm. Or even own one. And, as quietly as he could, he swore.

"...merde."

Essence of the World: Flesh Reborn [Adv. Roleplay]

Dr. Jean-Phillipe Vannier

Name: Jean-Philippe "JP" Vannier

Age: 42

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Sub-Class: Latent Healer

Description: JP stands five feet and eleven inches tall, or 181 cm in metric, and weighs roughly 75 kilos. He has a head of short, neatly cut black hair that's greying on the sides and the fringe. A sharp chin and high cheekbones accentuate his slightly tanned skin that's dusted very lightly with freckles and a few acne scars here and there. His build is very average, coming across as a man who values his fitness a lot, but his job means way more to him.

JP as a person is very... Abrasive. On first meeting, he comes across as a man who doesn't value physical or social interaction a great deal, and he doesn't. His mentality is that if it interferes with his professional work or my strict schedule, he must make it so that it doesn't. He pushes all distractions to the side so he can be at 100% all day, every day, especially since he deals with criminal cases. He carries a strict schedule at both his job and his daily life. Interference with his schedule earns you his ire and anger. In his mind, everything needs to be done in a specific way, always and forever. Changes to this routine are often welcomed with grumbling and complaints about how his methods are more efficient and detailed. He is very sharp-eyed and precise in his work, some people often describe him as clinical and calculated to an extreme level. But it gets the job done and it's done very well, so few complain about his methods.

His social life...well let's just say it doesn't really exist. Outside of a few colleges that he lectures at, he doesn't maintain constant contact with the medical world at large. He keeps to himself and rarely, if ever, attends or speaks at a bigger conference or some such, even though his work is respected and valued in the field of medicine. Very few have broken through his extremely thick shell, and those people he considers his best friends, people he would lay down his life for. Because underneath the sharp, snarky exterior is a soft inside that just wants company that understands him and how he works, and a heart that appreciates the value of human life. He doesn't worry about maintaining relationships between acquaintances or short term friends, but he does maintain strict professional relations with his forensics team, all of whom he respects and trusts a great deal. In speech, he's blunt and often ignores or doesn't pay attention to someone's feelings, being extremely honest about statements and pointing out mistakes if someone else makes them.

When not working, JP spends much of his time at home, either reading various medical journals to expand his knowledge base, or painting as a hobby. If he's ever out maintaining his fitness, he's either jogging or cycling around his neighbourhood. He's infamous amongst his neighbours for being a recluse that you rarely see outside, so on the occasions he does go out to shop for groceries or to exercise, he gets curious stares to the back of his head.

All in all, JP is a realist. A fiercely professional man who reinforces his ideals with action, keeps to himself for the most part and is a very reliable man who gets the job done.

History: JP started his interest in medicine early in his life, after expressing his intent to become a nurse to his parents, who were also nurses. When he was young, he always thought his mother and father were superheroes, helping those in need and caring where others didn't care. He enrolled into medical school after he finished college and left as a registered nurse with an associate's degree in nursing on the side.

JP first started with a local Loom hospital, staying in the accident and emergency department for a few years while he worked on a Bachelor's degree in medicine on the side. Through his stay in the hospital's A&E, he saw much of what would turn him into the aloof, blunt man he is now; deaths, accidents and fatal injuries that shook him to his core. But he gritted his teeth and soldiered on anyway, thinking that he was too stuck in to back out. When he left temporarily to graduate and get his degree, he was desensitised enough to the carnage and bloody horror that was his old department. With that in mind, he shifted focus to surgery instead. After his degree, he spent his residency in general surgery, enriching his knowledge of the human body while getting his hands dirty at the same time.

It was around this time that he encountered his first criminal case. His senior, a surgeon of many years, let him assist in his first case related to crime; to save a man who had been stabbed multiple times in the abdomen. The entire process fascinated him, not the medical aspect, but everything else related to it. Working with the police, helping to catch a killer and bringing him to justice. It excited him in a way that being a regular surgeon didn't. That experience prompted JP to express his interest in taking up forensic pathology. His training didn't start until after his residency ended, after which he went straight to Loom's police precinct Two, doing a one year residency under the apprenticeship of the chief coroner there. When his residency finished, he was transferred to a different precinct, Precinct Five, as the chief coroner there was due to retire in the coming year. JP took over the job with gusto, and spent the remainder of his time until current day there.

During his time in precinct Five, he came into contact with detective Holly Knight, and subsequently worked with her and her team for several years, being the chief medical examiner and pathologist that gave her team all they needed to collar a multitude of serial killers, rapists and other criminals over the course of that few years. However, how disconnected he became between the victims and the job only grew with time, and his abrasive personality and extreme honesty didn't sit well with the others he worked with. They only tolerated him because of his sheer amount of experience and skill in doing his job. Holly, however, was his only friend. Since, due to some extreme and random chance, she was his next-door neighbour. They shared the same commute to work and Holly was the only one who could stand how he was like. They formed a sort of...friendship not long after; Holly defended his choices and, in turn, JP kept up his good work for the precinct.

Of course, his life wasn't without its fair share of mysteries. Since he grew up and his parents passed away of old age, he inherited what little they had, crammed into his tiny apartment near the police precinct where he worked. Within their belongings were a fair share of books in a language he didn't recognise. Thinking that they were just some weird collector's items, he left them in the cardboard boxes he'd found them in. Little did he know, however, that his mother was descended from a long line of mages, and the books were her books on spells and innate magical power. Obviously, JP didn't know anything of it, and he left the books as they were, gathering dust in their cardboard boxes. He didn't care much about his family history; in his to-the-point mind, the only thing that mattered was his work and himself.

Abilities/Skills:

• Hyperawareness - Inactive as of current day, but within JP's essence is a manifestation of his instincts, both as a surgeon and as a pathologist, taken to its logical extreme. He is able to notice the most minute details about anything he focuses on, be it a corpse, a witness or suspect, or even things as simple as inanimate objects or a room. His mind then infers the most logical conclusions from these details and pieces together an image or an outline of what's happened or what might be wrong with something. These images show up for him as a faint, orange silhouette of people, objects and actions caught in suspended animation that only he can see. The ability only triggers if he focuses on a situation or scene at hand, not all the time.
• Magic Healing - Within him, and his bloodline, are the powers of healing. When he lays hands on an injured person, his magics accelerate their body's healing factors, even knitting bone and regenerating lost organ tissue. This takes stamina, and he can only heal so much before falling unconscious.
• Advanced Knowledge of Anatomy and Physiology - As a licensed medical practitioner, JP knows the ins and outs of a human body. What makes it tick, which parts go where, what works, and how to fix what's broken.
• Advanced Studies in Forensic Pathology - Along with being a doctor, his studies focus on criminal intent and injury. His knowledge extends to weapons, what calibre of bullet makes what sort of wound, different types of knife wounds and so on.

Notable Belongings:

• Brown messenger bag
• Comb
• Reading glasses
• Pocket notebook and pen
• Smartphone

Silent Hill: Reburial

You say Silent Hill

I say hi

Way of the Warrior

"Hmm."

Daniel stood to one side. He'd arrived at the lobby earlier, so he could case out his potential opponents in the newest iteration of the multidimensional tournament. So far the competition had seemed pretty intense. Fighters both intimidating...and not.

The former cop turned fighter held up his smartphone. The invitation from the Liason sat there on the screen in the form of a text message from an unknown number. Another phone number was listed that, when called, opened a portal that he'd stepped through into the lobby. It wasn't the first time he'd been invited to such events; he recalled a time recently when he'd taken another invitation from his friend Skallagrim to participate in another tournament. However that had gotten derailed by some weird...otherdimensional monsters that he'd only barely escaped from. One thing he'd learned from all these silly tournaments: they were always getting derailed by some silly things.

He just hoped today was going to be an exception.

The wolf lowered his cap and kept to himself. The less he bragged, boasted or even talked, the better. The less his potential opponents would know of him.

Mass Effect Andromeda: Frontier

Hazan rechecked his weapons for the last time. He’d calibrated his Avenger’s sights to work off of his visor, automatically marking “enemy” signatures once he first laid eyes on them. With a tap, he synchronised his visor with the feeds from his team’s omnitools and Serena’s drones, one of which was high above the structure, cloaked and moving to get a bird’s eye view of the site. Immediately he saw one of the asari, Ryria, perched up above, watching the dunes where they’d first hid behind for the planning phase. He tapped his omnitool and marked Ryria’s presence on the roof with a red triangle, using Del’s viewpoint to make sure her position was accurate.

”Slight hitch guys: Ryria’s up on the roof staring at the dune we’re hiding behind. She’ll see us the second we walk out. Someone’s gotta suppress her so we can move up without her seeing where we are.”