Goldeagle1221

No Turning Back - Into the Abyss

<Snipped quote by Rawk>

Gotcha. No rush, I was just wondering where everyone was.

@Heretic

Join the discord

To Teluval, Farewell

What's kicking in the school yard, Johnny's and Fizzies. So after some diggin' in the old membrane, flicking files and sizzling the schedule ya know. I'm starting to get the picture that maybe this roller coaster of metaphors has already sailed the ocean blue before Columbus got a peak at the old secret sauce if you catch my drift.

@Solamelike

To Teluval, Farewell

Keeping it vague because I think I want to reveal him in stages, he's meant to play support. Comedic. Strong desire for the simple things in life. Likes gold.

@Exit

Everyone likes Gold. I happen to be named Gold.

To Teluval, Farewell

So Solamelike and I could make a post this weekend, We've been swamped with real life things, but we are pretty free on weekends. Up to you.

No Turning Back - Into the Abyss

I've got big plans for Dr. Stark guys, let's get moving!

@Heretic

Righto, I should have some writing done by the weekend. Busy until friday night so I can't promise much until tomorrow night anyways.

𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄

---

Episode 4
Fruit Loops

---

For quite some time since the spaceport landing, Yeva had led Jeremiah on a long hike. Up mountains, through woods, over and sometimes into small streams, and all of it had amounted to what? They were still walking on. While on this long hike Yeva’s endurance for the trek truly showed. Even though she had a small backpack on her back and her crossbow, Yeva’s pace neither slowed nor stopped-- well, except for when Jeremiah asked for a break, seeking privacy beingd a large outrcropping for just long enough to cause a slight worry, luckily he emerged smiling and very energized before any questions formed. Truly Yeva navigated the wilderness of Castillo as if there were paths and roadways laid out that only she could see.

Hours passed, the sun crept into a noonish position, before the ground finally began evening out once more. Ahead of them, a small plume of smoke could be seen, and the woods gave way to large fields with houses lurking at a distance. The small plume of smoke could eventually be tracked to a chimney.

Said chimney went to a log cabin made from absolutely massive tree logs-- their width and berdth stretching taller than any human. A worn and weathered sign lurked outside of the cabin, painted with the words: “Hunting Lodge #4” and a painted bear’s head on a shield stood out in blue with a white background. Yeva stopped once they were within thirty paces of the cabin, then dove behind a nearby tree and bushes-- probably an odd behavior to... Jeremiah.

"Come here," Yeva told him in something of an elevated whisper, beckoning heavily. Jeremiah slipped quickly to Yeva's side, a hand slipping into his pocket and feeling his small bag of pills, one missing from earlier.

"What's up?" He whispered back, scooting further behind the bushes in case of danger, his other hand feeling the cold handle of his pistol tucked away in his belt.

Yeva fell quiet for a moment before whispering, “I fear we’ve already been sighte--”

THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP--
The ground near the tree became splattered with a wide array of different colored paint-- the tree itself fell victim to the barrage. Yeva put her arms and hands up protect her face and neck until the noise halted abruptly. A distant voice that sounded as if it came from someone who had smoked far too many cigarettes, came from the direction of the cabin, and it was laughing. The look on Yeva’s face was one of terror. Numbly, she reached toward Jeremiah, to keep him from moving.

“Well well well,” shouted the voice, “Ye bring yer sorry ass back ‘ere, ‘ave ye? Come out, Yeva. C’mon out n’get ye ol’ Aunt a hug, eh?”

Jeremiah cocked a brow, more confused at the paint-day surprise than anything else, he pointed at the various colors and opened his mouth to question, leaving it open in silence just in case he wasn't suppose to speak as well as move, which probably was a yes.

Yeva shook her head at Jeremiah then called out, "Ah--" she cleared her throat "-- Dear Auntie Heila. I have a man here that wishes to speak with you. About them bunkers, you know the ones?!"

"A MAN? Straigh' to business, are ye now lass? Incredible, truly. While we've been worried about you having been eaten by a heard of Calicats, ye come back with a BLOODY MAN?!"

More paintballs burst off of the tree before Heila screamed, "SEND 'EM OVER, RIGHT?!"

"Remember what I told you," Yeva warned Jeremiah, "Be straight, be fearless, and don't compliment her."

Upon the porch stood a woman-- grey streaks in her wild hair and a twisted smile on her face. Her left eye was covered by an eyepatch, two jagged and deep scars trailing from her left brow down to her chin. This is Aunt Heila-- the grim reaper herself, or, as some would call her, the bane of Megabears. A strong smelling cigar was held loosely in one hand and the high powered looking paintball gun in the other-- seriously, the damn thing had a scope attached.

Her single eye was narrowed upon Jeremiah as he approached with a look that said you are not fucking worthy. All this and she stood even at an intimidating height-- probably just a little shorter than Poole, actually. Were it not for the cooking apron tied around her, she looked as if she were ready to conduct a night-operations tactical mission.

Jeremiah soaked in the mess before him, what kiind of quest did he start? He sucked in a tiny breath, as if he had much to say about the true start of this kinda quest. Forming his trademark smile he took another bold step towards the towering woman, "Hello, I'm Jeremiah, here for the aforementioned bunkers."

Taking a pull from her cigar, Heila eyed the man's smile with a harsh expression. "Which bunkers, Jeremiah," she asked exhaling smoke, "Which bunkers specifically?" Oddly, she seemed rather calm, from the previous fire with which she had berated them only moments before. Was it a trap?

"Abandoned ones, particularly eerie, mysterious, and worthy of a visit to Calisto," Jeremiah answered, "the kind that makes you wonder what the hell it was even for."

Heila hummed in a particularly eerie manner, very similar to Yeva, but very off-putting given the raspy quality of it. Squinting down at Jeremiah she replied, "Calico Silo-- so named 'cause it's in the middle of a bloody Calicat hunting ground. Tell me, Jeremiah, do you fear death?"

Jeremiah's eyes narrowed at the question. After countless nights approaching the topic of death, he didn't know exactly how to respond. Did he fear death? and if he did, was it his own? No, it was another type of death that kept his eyes open at the twilight hours, it was a different pale face that haunted him in the cold sweat of his withdrawals, to him, he knew only one answer.

"There are greater things to fear," Jeremiah answered in a flat tone.

Heila smiled like a shark looking upon it's next prey. "Yeva does not fear it. Honestly I'd be surprised if ye didn' already know this," she told him, then put her paintball gun down. She reached behind herself, then pulled a small GPS device off of her belt. Idly she typed a few things as she asked Jeremiah, "How has my sweet niece been holdin' up, eh?"

Jeremiah went to lean but nearly tripped remembering he wasn't near anything to lean on. His slightly dilated eyes fluxuated and fixed back onto the grizzly aunt, obliging the small talk, "not only is she holding up, but she is also holding up a few appitites with her recipes."

"Her reciepies-- bah," Helia replied, "Her gran's the one responsible for all her skills-- ungrateful little wench. She should be here doing such a thing." A beat passed then Heila held out the GPS device toward Jeremiah, "There. Go get yerself killed but be sure that Yeva'll survive, even if you don't. She's lucky like that."

"Too bad you're not!"

There wasn't even time for Heila to turn before the door to the hunting lodge opened behind her and Yeva came out and open fired. Paint splattered and burst all over Heila before she knew what was going on-- she lept to the side and took cover behind a nearby rocking chair. Inconprehensiable curses came out of Heila in an epic and colorful stream that probably made a child cry somewhere.

Yeva shouted, "Run Jeremiah!" As she kept the weapon pointed toward Heila, then, actually, began running herself. This very well could have been the first time Jeremiah has ever seen Yeva run.

Jeremiah's fingers tightened around the GPS and a suspcious wry of a smile formed on his lips as he ducked his head and began his retreat. Out of all the firefights he has been in, this was by far one he wouldn't mind remembering. Shoving the GPS deep into his pocket, he followed Yeva loyally, his mind slowly dipped away from the current situation, and his stomach began to flutter at the thought of what the coordinates might hold for him.

While they ran, Yeva dropped the paintball gun somewhere up a tree. Dropped? No. She launched it with all her might, actually. Once they were away from the cabin, down a small hill, into the thick of the woods, and behind a very large cluster of obnoxiously purple-green trees, Yeva decided now as as good as time as any, and her pace slowed to a halt.

“What are the coordinates? Are they sound, by chance? From here on,” she breathed, “I’ll help you navigate the path but, if I tell you we need to go around something and you don’t understand why, just do as I say. Would hate for you to get mauled out here, gov.”

Jeremiah's senses kicked into full gear for a split second at one particular word he heard. He quickly looked up from his hand holding the GPS and the cold fear disappeared as his eyes found Yeva, "of course, no problem." He said plainly.

"Coordinates seem to be pretty okay as far as an unknown location goes," Jeremiah shrugged and tossed the small device towards Yeva.

“That’s Heila for you,” Yeva spoke up before catching the GPS. For a moment she gazed at the screen, analyzing the grid, turning the device a few times, glancing up at the terrain every so often, and narrowing her eyes at mountains looming in the distance.

This was going to take longer to reach than Yeva expected. While she wanted to tell Jeremiah she also absolutely was not going to tell Jeremiah. By her best estimate, Yeva knew it would take at least four hours to get there. Yeva had no reason to doubt Heila’s coordinates. Without a word Yeva started walking off.

Jeremiah shrugged as Yeva walked off, assuming everything was going as planned. He shoved his hands in his pockets, one fondling the bag of pills, the other flicking a piece of lint as he happily followed his companion.

Callisto’s wilderness could be described as a very inviting, if not strange, place to walk into-- despite the dangers of Hyper-Intelligent Megabears and groups of Calicats that liked to gang up on people. Each of Jupiter’s moons were terraformed and the soil gave odd effects to the plantl ife that grew. On Callisto, everything looked as if it were desaturated slightly then ran through a slightly pink color filter.

This moon was also known for its rugged terrain. Over 70% of Callisto’s total surface was mountainous. Undoubtedly, on hour three of their adventure, Jeremiah was well acquainted with this fact, as they went up hill far more than downhill, sometimes even having to walk sideways across hills. Whatever the terrain that needed to be crossed, Yeva didn’t seem to mind or make note of it, other than to orient the map every now and then.

There was something in the way that Yeva carried herself that spoke of a quiet confidence at odds with hyper-vigilance. She scanned and looked about every now and then, came to a halt here, examined a tree there, and even stopped to stick her finger into a mega-pile of Megabear shit, all without a single word of note, even when she was asked about it. Though she didn’t exactly tell Jeremiah to not talk, Yeva had become barely responsive, without much more than a grunt or hum every now and then.

Such was the journey until they came to a hilltop and Yeva crouched low and halted.

The formation of mountains they had marched over was somewhat crescent shaped. In the valley between them loomed a large cement structure claimed by vines and moss with two rusted doors shut tight. Reaching back for her backpack, Yeva detached a set of binoculars, then began staring through them in cautious silence.

After a moment Jeremiah nudged Yeva and she handed the binoculars over. Propping the lenses to his eyes, Jeremiah saw exactly what he had hoped to see, or rather, not see. The old vine covered structure was label-less, with not a sign, letter or mark to indicate its affiliation, but Jeremiah knew. His stomach twisted into a knot and any chance of joy from finding this structure formed rather as a sickening paranoia and worry. Was this what he really wanted?

Jeremiah steeled his resolved and put the binoculars down, this was exactly what he wanted. A hand snaked into his pocket and gripped his bag of pills tightly, but the touch of the pills only served to throw coals on a burning anger that began to reemerge in his stomach.

Without warning he pulled his gun free from his belt and held it up, a finger switching off the safety, "ready?"

Yeva regarded Jeremiah with a solid expression of disapproval. Placing a finger to her lips to indicate that he needed to maybe shut the hell up, she also firmly took hold of his elbow, then shook her head. Tapping two fingers to her head, she made a sharp movement toward the bunker with her hand then-- wait. Shit. Frustration twisted Yeva's expression when she figured that Jeremiah probably wasn't familiar with the hand gestures and movements of Jupterian Hunter Speak.

Thinking quickly, she began smashing buttons on the GPS, typing out the message: "If you shoot something loud you attract the six to ten calicats around. I have not got a good count of them. Could be more." She showed the message to Jeremiah and waited for some expression of recognition.

Jeremiah pursed his lips, flicking his dafety back on. His eyes betrayed reluctance. Softly taking the GPS he typed out his own message.

"I need to get inside." The message was short, simple, and accurately displayed what the conclusion to the swarm of invading thoughts in Jeremiah's mind boiled down to.

While holding her sigh in, Yeva typed out the words, "Slowly not stupidly." Then stood up slightly. Eyeing the terrain, she figured that there weren't many spaces to hide or duck away from the sigh of the Calicats. The likelihood of them seeing their approach was very high but, still, she had to at least attempt surprising them instead of being on the wrong end of the cat.

She pointed to the ridgeline-- specifically the treeline to the side of them-- then pointed in a manner that indicated they were to follow the treeline then cut inward toward the cement bunker at the last possible moment. This plan would clearly take a bit longer than the most direct route, that much was obvious. She looked to Jeremiah for a symbol of understanding.

A look of frustration crossed Jeremiah's face as he nodded in compliance. The anxiety of waiting for what laid so close bubbled in his stomach. He motioned for Yeva to lead.

Without hesitation, Yeva took point, then began making her way along the treeline. Here and there she halted, waited, and seemed to be listening or looking deeper into the surrounding underbrush. A tenseness accented her posture every time she halted. Subtle signs that something was lurking within the forest were there-- the movement of a few leaves or the crunch and snap of twigs. This was going to be a slow process, slowed even further by Yeva's caution. Part of her expected Jeremiah to just bolt and run toward the bunker and be promptly shredded in the process. She pushed this paranoia deeper into her mind in favor of focusing on reality.

Eventually they came within a few paces of the bunker, allowing a closer inspection of it. A black camera, covered by a plastic barrier that was fogged beyond repair, loomed over the doorway. An intimidating slab of steel that served as a high security door stood under the camera, rust having cemented it to the wall itself from misuse. A large crack had formed in the cement surrounding the door-- it was large enough for them to probably climb through.

With a slight nod, Yeva pointed to the crack, then began moving slowly forward. So far, their trek had went easier than she had predicted. Jeremiah was oddly good at not making a lot of noise, despite his heavy engineer boots, it seemed. Any small sound could draw the attention of one of the eight or so Calicats Yeva had managed to recount, so they moved slowly toward the bunker. Now that the treeline was no longer there to shelter them, caution was needed more than ever. Briars sprang up out of the ground the closer the got-- dried leaves and twigs threatened to give their location away.

A breeze picked up, rustling leaves, and Yeva swore the stupid leaves were trying to give them away. She could see the light shining into the darkness of the bunker’s depths from here. Scratches were around the entrance to the crack, raising Yeva’s suspicion that, at some point, the Calicats had tried to claw their way in-- but why? They were no more than thirty paces away now, creeping slowly, attention raised, for all it took was a misplaced foot and the Calicats would be upon them, fang and cla--

“BAAAAHHH!”

Yeva very nearly turned into stone at the sound.

“BAAAAAAHH! BAAAAAAH!” Belted a noise from-- Where?! It was loud, somewhat muffled, but it echoed as if it were right next to them.

Frantically Yeva looked around then she spotted movement in the treeli-- “BAAAAHHHHH!!”

“Damn it all-- run for it,” Yeva spoke up loudly as the first Calicat lept over the bunker.

As large as an earth-tiger, with the build of an earth-cheetah, and the spotted, striped, and patched coat of a Calico house cat, Calicats fit their name properly but, Yeva always thought it a bit too cute for an intelligent but murderous brute. There wasn’t much time for such thoughts howe-- “BAAAAAAAAAH!!”

A tug from Jeremiah as he passed Yeva brought her thoughts back to her companion, "Come on!" Jeremiah urged as he passed, Yeva could see his finger playing with the safety on his gun, and his patience for whatever was inside the bunker was wearing thinner.

Truth be told, Jeremiah's patience was thinning for a few reasons. As the crisp air whizzed by his face, he couldn't help but feel light headed. He couldn't quite remember how long it had been since... well. His muscles were beginning to ache and his headache wasn't helping either. Every step sent a shock of pain out of his head and down his spine-

"BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!"

And that certainly wasn't helping.

---

Summary

A crazy aunt, paintballs, massive space cats, and a mysterious baying by an abandoned super secret bunker, must read to believe.

---

No Turning Back - Into the Abyss

@Goldeagle1221 It's going. Been dry for a while and it's time to break the spell.

@Heretic

There ya go.

No Turning Back - Into the Abyss

@Goldeagle1221 Well hello, drinking buddy.

@Heretic

How's it going fellow questionable liver.

No Turning Back - Into the Abyss

Sample post and CS

The clamor of the bar was intense. What usually was a small time bar meant for a local crowd was a flood of new faces, the announced ark project bringing out the inner alcoholic in even the most prudent stiffs. Hardwood was stained a liquor brown from spills from cups and people alike, and the cushioned seats were flat under the asses of the unlucky saps who were to be left behind, all but one.

Light filtered into the bar through screens of smoke and smudged windows, and landed on the heaven white face of a creased paper. Two muddy eyes stared down at the all too familiar words, his daughter was captured by the world government, or rather donated to the ark project. By whatever means the child of four wasn’t in his custody, but even so now the young girl was to be stuffed into a tube for preservation of the human race. Could a father be proud?

Every coin has two sides, he supposed, but he wasn’t too happy with the side of the coin he found himself on, not when it puts his daughter at such an unknown risk. A loud cough broke him from the paper and he folded it back into his shirt pocket.

The cough came from a man who looked uncannily similar to the first: muddy eyes, prominent jawline, and those dark locks so common in a Sicilian. The only difference was one was drinking rye in ginger, and the other was nursing ginger in ginger, and not due to sobriety.

“You holding up well, Doctor?” The first man gently slapped the back of the second. The Doctor sputtered a sentence that the first man didn’t care to catch. This was doctor Ferdinand Lorenzo, cryogenics expert and man with a first class ticket to the first man’s daughter. The first man let the Doctor choke on the cigar smoke from a heavy set biker to the right for a few more minutes before forcing a smile and drowning what ginger remained in his crystal whiskey glass. With a smack of his lips, as if sampling the alcohol that wasn’t there he nodded a stiff chin towards the bartender, slipping some crumpled bills that way.

“How bout we get the hell out of here?” The first man commanded more than asked as he helped the slumping doctor to his feet. Two leather loafed feet slapped the sticky floor and the first man knew the doctor was good enough to walk, or whatever that equated to when mixed with stumbles and toxic burps of old rye.

The first man slipped his hand over the mouth of his crystal glass and slid it off the bar while the other hand grabbed the doctor's arm to help him out of the establishment of depression and liquid courage.

The city streets were just as dark as the bar, if not by light, then by atmosphere. Most people shuffled without much purpose, and few looked up as the first man and the Doctor decided to take a shortcut through a long narrow alley.

The first man held the Doctor close as they walked, keeping the bloated fool from tripping over his own feet. The drunk was blabbering but the first man couldn’t afford to listen as they walked further and further down the alley.

As the duo passed a dumpster the alley narrowed so only one could walk abreast. Stepping over a puddle of what might be rainwater, the first man let the drunk go first, with a polite smile and nod. As Doctor Ferdinand Lorenzo stepped between the dumpster and the building wall, the first man’s hand stiffly landed on his shoulder and yanked him backwards while the other hand brought down the crystal glass with a loud THUNK, a dribble of scarlet remaining on the glass as the doctor fell into the waiting arm of the first man.

Alive or dead, the first man didn’t know, but he didn’t really care as he quickly stripped the doctor of everything, from his keycard, ID’s, papers, coat, pants, everything. With a heave, the first man jettisoned the body of the doctor into the dumpster and slammed the lid down before tossing the glass in whatever direction, it didn’t matter with how things were about to go down on the planet anyways.

---------------------------------------

That morning the first man stood in front of a security checkpoint, his destination behind him.

“Name?”

“Ferdinand Lorenzo, Doctor.”

----------------------------------------

The one thing he didn’t expect, is staying on this star boat.

The CS

[b]Player Name:[/b] Goldeagle1221
[b]Character Name:[/b] Doctor Ferdinand Lorenzo
[b]Character Age:[/b] 29
[b]Character Gender:[/b] Male
[b]Appearance:[/b] A tall man of clear italian descent, he has muddy brown eyes and short black hair. He has a strong jawline and commands a presence more often seen in someone who has survived in a violent urban environment rather than a university. He is fit if his liver isn’t taken into account, and tends to wear nice suits.
[b]Profession:[/b] Cryogenics Doctor and expert, formally a made man
[b]Nationality:[/b] Fed
[b]Strengths:[/b]
A man with everything to lose: he will go to any lengths to secure the safety of his daughter, and with her safely trapped in a cryogenic sleep and him stuck on a space boat in the middle of nowhere, who knows what he is capable of.
Bruiser: Had to start somewhere in the mob
Clever Criminal mind: He knows how to read people and situations, and isn't afraid to get his hands dirty.
Mafioso Medico: While not a formally trained physician, he at least knows enough to pass himself off as a doctor in small isolated bursts.
Motivated: He has taken the ship's database on all human knowledge to benefit his unique situation and spends his free time learning more about his new profession should he come into conflict, or need to take his daughter out of the chamber.

[b]Weaknesses:[/b]
A clear alcoholic
Everything he is doing depends on keeping his facade up, and his daughter safe. If one of those two factors is compromised, everything could be for nothing.
He is prone to anger and an uneven temper, often landing him in hot water.
Generally cynical and even apathetic
Technically, he isn't a doctor, and technically he knows very little of what he is doing
A liar, a Cheat, and in this case, a fool

[b]Personal Effects:[/b] Everything Doctor Ferdinand Lorenzo had on his person, he didn’t expect the ship to take off when it did, thinking he’s be in and out with his daughter.

[b]Bio:[/b] See sample post
[b]Code Word:[/b] Spaghetti

---------------------------------------

How he pulled it off

So, how did he do it?

The rough rundown goes something like this: Mister No-Name Mafioso decides he wants in on the big boat that’s smuggling his daughter back to heaven and figures it’s his time to fly if you catch my drift. Luckily he still had some connections in the old criminal family (more on that later) and manages to find a contact working with the Vitae’s database, locating his daughter. After some greased palms and well placed promises the contact manages to also uncover a suitable look alike in Mr No-Name’s location by the name of Doctor Lorenzo.

The plan was put into motion: over the next three days Mr. No-Name managed to locate and get close enough to the Doc to get him out for a nice drink that ended in a switcharoo, meanwhile the man on the inside did their own form of switcharoo: while No-Name got the physical identifications and certifications, the sneaky son of a bitch on the other side of the proverbial wall managed to swap out Lorenzo’s data with No-Names, meaning the biomass required to enter was in fact No-Names. Intricate details on Lorenzo’s life was also changed to better suit No-Name in case of questioning, and to top it off, the photo databank was also replaced with No-Name.

After all this, walking in was a piece of cake, since No-Name managed to successfully meld together a new identity on both sides of security, meaning the database was going to accept him no matter what.

No Turning Back - Into the Abyss

I'm sure we can figure it out. I left that whole business vague so I didn't overstep any bounds and figured it worked out better with actual discussion on how.