Haha — Roleplayer Guild

C H A P T E R 1

N o t   A   S i n g l e   S t a r
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Fort Hood, Texas
—- // JANUARY 23
@Zoey White
"Quit fooling around, the person we're waiting for should be here soon."

Antoine shook his head, his squint acquainting itself with 2 as it always has in the past. Though he too passed the time in the shop by browsing the cheap and poorly made wares, specifically around the sombreros. There were so many different colors, some with little charms, others with cloths wrapped around their brim, it was quite the distraction to take your time and check each and every single one of them. One in particular even caught his interest, a standard brown-woven sombrero with small pieces of bone fixed all along its rim. Morbid, surprisingly what Antoine found fascination in, and even more likely what brought him to take upon his current occupation. But his thoughts would be interrupted by the sudden appearance of an individual in his peripheral. A small figure, young, no older than sixteen years old were his age determination accurate.

"You guys are early! Super-mega early, I didn't expect y'all to be here till midnight or later. Well, I even had to sneak past my mom 'n dad. So here I am, now, shall you rustle your pet on over here so we can start things?" The young pink-haired teen's words were high in pitch and pepped out innocently, though a hidden venom could be heard right beneath the surface. 

Antoine held himself in check, dropping the sombrero and offering the woman a curt nod in acceptance to the pink-haired assailant. His sights would make their way to 2 and he cleared his throat to catch the promised child's attention. His head would dip towards the single door of the shop, gesturing to her that they should all leave the facility effective immediately. And as they began this venture, 'Akasha' would make her way quietly to 2's side as they exiting looking up upon the creature with childish eyes of both admiration and curiosity. Quietly the pink haired girl muttered just in earshot of the eldest sister of the promised children. "You've grown quite a bit since I've last seen you, haven't ya."

As they made their way to the alleyway on the storefront's eastern side the group tucked themselves close to the concrete checking for stray eyes before beginning their discussion. Akasha's cat-shaped backpack was slung out in front of them, it had a strange smell to it, though its contents were already known to Antoine and he looked upon the bag with a content look of purpose. His expression tended to be amused most of the time, but when it came to 'real' business it lost that joyous look and instead was replaced with a inhuman blankness. The time of fun and games was over, they weren't in the land of the Alamo and Cowboys for nothing after all. The roles they had to play were being called upon.

"The car is around the back. 2 will be in charge of defending us if things get loud, but if it gets too dangerous we run. Being captured is not an option, if by small chance we are detained, I am to execute 2 and then myself to prevent any intelligence from being leaked over to the enemy. Are we solid?"

"Solid like a rock, Antoine. I shall be accompanying you two to the target, and assisting in the deployment of the weapon-- Should the enemy disclose our location before I am able to activate it, we flee. It'll be my head if it doesn't go off, but the two of you aren't my priority, as long as that's clear I say we get this show on the road."

???, Romania
Midnight// JANUARY 23
@OwO
As 6 reached the base's entrance she would be graced by the presence of several armed men standing around a similarly unmarked concrete building and the perimeter's barbwire fence that surrounded the area for several miles in every direction. One such armed man mad a quick jog up to six, waving 'all clear' to the five or six behind him to signal their guard to be dropped. The approaching guard was in the similar grey fatigues that the rest of the troops had, though he had an extra layer on to stave off the cold, a black fut trimmed overcoat and a fur trimmed cap to match it. 

"We heard from HQ that you were coming. Aren't you supposed to be supervised? Ah, well, that's not my place- your extraction will be here shortly." The soldier seemed to not have much time for isle chit-chat, but there was of course something else that needed to be communicated to him before 6 could rest comfortably. It's not that she needed that reward, it's just that her handler was an insufferable piece of shit and no wiggle room could be gathered here.

//6 notified the Romanian soldier about the car

Eventually she would reach the concrete building with a few armed men, it was cold, and they had likely been outside for tens of hours. Their faces were red, brows and lips nearly iced over, they must've had it pretty rough. But then again, they likely were compensated quite well for guarding a facility like this throughout the day and night. The entrance gate stood right next to this building, it was nearly a hundred feet in height and reinforced with hardened steel beams to prevent and unwanted entry. The location of this base wasn't even marked on any maps of Romania, it was near the mountains, very-very secretive. What was the purpose of this place again?

B o o m . . .

And then disaster struck. A distant loud reverberation throughout the snowy earth, it shook nearby trees, and soon after a trail of smoke. It was an indeterminate distance away though, though the rumbling caused large amounts of snow to fall from the cliffside down to the ground below. What could have caused this? The guards were now alert, all of them, setting their vision to the sights of their rifles and moving out from their post looking outside the barbwire facets. They didn't see anything at first, though one unlucky guard would gasp for a brief moment as his eyes caught something peaking behind a tree and before he could notify his fellow men the Romanian man's head burst like a microwaved grape. 

"Cover! Cover! Get the kid inside!" A black-haired guard screamed before firing aimlessly into the woods. He didn't know what had killed his squadmate but he would get his revenge. Which is what he thought, but this would be a slaughter for your average soldier, and the moment he himself caught a glimpse of the harbinger that would also be his end. His eyes leaked sanguine, a sharp screech would emit from the mans ears maddeningly loud. But only he could hear it, only he could see it. Was this one of those shared spectral phenomena that people experienced? An other-worldly creature that had briefly been passing through our dimension and some unlucky individuals saw his quick transgression? No, not in this storybook. A short blonde-haired soldier would attempt to grasp 6 by her hand and lead her inside the metallic door of the concrete building. But if she stayed outside for a brief few moments and watched was was appearing, the promised child would see a shackled figure calmly walking towards the base and in the distance behind them, the snow-train that Six's keeper had asked for. 

Several Miles from Varkhaus, Finland [Wilderness]
Midnight // JANUARY 23
@ERode
13's handler accepted the article of clothing silently, donning the overwear with a modest thankfulness that would be noticed upon her face for the most brief of moments. She snuggled into it, she missed Italy, the weather there never really got this bad. She too watched out from the side of the transport helicopter, the mountains, the small rural towns, the resilient wildlife, it was beautiful to see. She even managed to catch a glimpse of a family of reindeer as they passed overhead. But these moments of glee, sightseeing from safety, and sentimental bonding between promised child and handler. Would be short-lived.

F w o o s h . . .
B o o m! . . .

A rocket-propelled grenade made contact with the rear of the helicopter. The area had been marked as secured territory to the pilot, but had his information been wrong? He couldn't think right now. He needed to act now, making sure Saint Augustine and #13 were safe was his main priority, making his way roughly from the cockpit with parachute backpacks as quickly as he could. The Helicopter was quickly beginning to descend in a merry-go-round of smoke and flames. The icy cold would be quickly forgotten and replaced with the heat, and memorable smell of gasoline. Augustine seemed relatively calm, even assisting in securing the parachute pack to the boy's body. "When you jump! If I'm not there when you land, stay put!" Her finger extended and waggled like a lecturing mother in 13's face before she turned back to the pilot and quickly secured her own parachute upon herself. The woman who's figure was mostly kept in check now had black smoke-trails around her porcelain skin, hair unkempt and dirtied, glasses had long flung off moment ago, and now was the time to jump ship and hope for the best.

But what waited for them after that jump? The base wasn't for miles, and they had passed a nearby town minutes ago. But was the town even occupied? Mental notes were taken by the woman as she jumped from the helicopter and her body fell towards the earth faster and faster, and then the pullstring of safety was tugged and the tapestry unveiled slowing the long fall to her snowy death. But in the distance she would see 13's parachute taking him to the east, and her the west, separation of the keeper and her charge. Adrenaline pumped through the woman's veins as she prepared herself for a hunt. "Land. West. Mark. 13. Safety. Move. Move. Move." Slowly, slowly, and then her boots would touch the frosted earth, digging into the ground as she braced herself. She unraveled herself from the parachute, took a deep breath and without any hesitation began to sprint in 13's direction.

She was fast, faster than any human with her figure should've been. But the winds would've carried the light-framed promised child a good distance away, even at full speed it would take several minutes to even get to where he landed. She told him to stay where he was, but if the enemy got to him first he would need to react somehow. The snow and the cold made it painful to move at the rate she was, her face burned from the cold and her red-stained lips cracked and bled. This was a worst-case scenario, Saint Augustine began to well up with rage and confusion. If someone leaked their movements to the enemy, she would tear their fucking head off with her bare hands.

St. Peterburgh, Russia
Midnight // JANUARY, 23
@Kazemitsu@Rune_Alchemist
The soldiers had completed their wardrobe change into heist garb. As the two creatures had already taken off towards the building, the two men silently hoped they wouldn't blow their own cover and ruin the mission. The Hermitage was a national treasure and the enormous, beautiful building held within it countless other treasures as well. Art, relics, historical documents, needless to say the location was of the utmost important to the Russian populace. And the government as well, so there was no way in hell that the building would be left unprotected at this hour. 

They would need to approach the building from the rear, as while there is a courtyard at it's entrance, the sprawling waterfront at it's face would make it too difficult for reinforcements to approach for backup. A painted concrete wall blocked the infiltrators from passage. Well, it deterred most but these weren't your run-of-the-mill art thieves breaking into the grandiose building of historical significance. Even the operatives of the church's faction easily scaled the wall, a grappling hook was tossed up for ease of climbing. The two ski-mask banditos then crept under the shadows near the wall, one watched for cameras and marked their location with a high-power laser pen, the other held a suppressed pistol and shot something that was 'not quite a bullet' at each of them. This ammunition didn't outright destroy the cameras but instead caused them to malfunction, interfering with the video feed of the cameras that looked their way. It was a small number, perhaps the security was high efficiency rather than 'high quality'. 

Things were going well, like one of those spy films. Even the operatives were speculating the reasoning of the lack of security detail outside the perimeter. Perhaps they were inside? The two made their way to the southern wall of the building, helping eachother onto the window-ledge and working together to cut the glass from it's frame. They then carefully plucked the delicate structure, placing it carefully onto a shelf inside the facility itself. The dark-skinned operative raised his radio and pressed the button at its side to speak. "Infiltrated south-side, second floor, #3 is likely already inside. #11's position is still unknown, though no alarms have been sound. Over."

A broken voice would then speak back. "Copy th-sss." The radios were really broken up today, did the budget shrink or is there just a lot of interference? 

On the first floor, 3 had easily slipped into the shadows slipping from one crevice to another searching for a security room. This of course wasn't on the ground floor of the building as that was where most of the most beautiful pieces of art and history had been located. Which also meant that this floor was where the most security should have been. But still there had been no personnel on this floor, a complete ghost town, not a soul in visible sight. Something was strange? A place of this much importance should have had atleast some form of defense, privately owned or military protecting it. "And so, the lambs have come to their slaughter." An elderly Russian quietly muttered to himself within the forementioned security, quietly, alone, confident. The man's rough, dirtied hands reached out and his index finger pressed a black button before him. The museum would hum to life, music, lights, animatronic soldiers in their historical section, the bears in their nature walk, but more importantly the guards would be activated and every exit within the facility would be sealed. The twenty-some guards hummed to life with near-organic movement, remotely given a directive from that person within the security room. [//H U N T _ PROMISED _ CHILD]
Tokyo, Japan
Nearing Daybreak // JANUARY, 24
@Melkor
Tattenbaum looked frustrated, she was so tired, having not slept in the past three days and constantly being on the move. Maybe she would utilize some of those funds the church gave her to rent a room in this building and see if anything turned up. She liked that idea. Finding herself in the lobby of the building there was a small lounge area with a television and several couches, and then opposing this area was a large desk with one young Japanese girl it. The native looked unamused, bored, and likely tired as well, kindred spirits Henrietta thought to herself. "How's the demand on the rooms here? Is there the possibility of me getting one in such short notice?" Henrietta spoke unintentionally in monotone, though the short-haired desk girl seemed to not care much rolling her eyes even. "We have a few rooms on the higher floors, but they're expensive." She quickly retorted, twiddling her pen against a paper on the desk mindlessly.

"I'm with Public Safety, I can afford it." Henrietta then quickly slid her plastic card unto the desk, causing the unhappy desk girl to raise a lone eyebrow quite high upon her forehead. The native's eyes than snapped shut, quickly placing a hand upon the card and sliding it behind the privacy ledge. "Very well, that'll be 4,839,097 yen." She responded dryly, the amount not really catching the handler's attention as something else had caught her attention. The smell of blood. She didn't notice it at first, but as she grew closer to the building's elevator the smell because just strong enough for the bloodhound of a woman to pick up from her olfactory glands. Her eyes widened and her pupils slit to that of a carnivorous animal. Hunt. The thought raced in her mind, constantly, itching at her skull like a thorn just beneath the skin.

"Excuse me, but have there been any new patrons within the last few days?" Henrietta asked, energy refilled anew as the irony taste lathered itself upon her tongue. "Uh, no- Just you within the past month. People cannot afford housing these days, Gaijin." She spat rudely, rolling her eyes once again and quickly swiping the woman's card before handing it back. "And make sure you scan your ID chip at the door, that'll work as your key from now on." She feigned a plastic smile before lazily dropping the card within the handler's palm. Henrietta simply flashed a fake smile back before making her way to the elevator, only stopping to realize. "You didn't tell me my room number, bitch!" which the woman cordially responded. "Room 102-B, B for yourself, Bitch."

The nerve of these miserable Japanese. She thought to herself as she finally entered the metallic elevator and pressed the blue-glowing '100' button on the touch-screen selection display. Quickly the machinery hummed to life, closing its doors before rising her up, it took a few minutes to actually get up there. Enough time for her to calm down and collect her thoughts. But then the door opened and the scent was, gone? Had 5 left a trace of evidence somewhere near the lower floors or did she just get some rogue smell, or perhaps she's looking too much into this and her trail is completely off. Someone could have been wounded on the first floor, though this was unlikely as lots of people would likely leave and enter there. But those thoughts would have to rest, as she reached her door and extended her wrist out to the scanner above the doorknob unlocking her room. "Well, I'll rest for now. And then I should probably notify HQ, then the real hunt can begin." A maniacal grin formed upon her face as she stepped towards her bed and faceplanted onto the white sheets, and immediately knocked out.

Geneva, Switzerland
Midnight// JANUARY, 23
@TruthHurts22@Eleven
"Say, you two are handlers right?" A distant voice ringed out in the distance, coming particularly from someone near the stage. Ah, it was the ringmaster looking fellow whom spoke earlier. The guy who seemed to organize this gruesome event. He donned a mask now, a creepy white one with a shoddily painted smile. Eerie more than anything, and the tension could be seen on both men's faces. Friedrich however seemed to respond defensively, grabbing the chair 10 sat upon and effortlessly sliding it behind him. He may have been strict, but he was a protective keeper. Emm on the other hand while ignoring 7's question looked at the man with contempt, his hands lazily found their ways into his pockets leaning in towards the jester of a man. "You already know the answer to that question, Gabriel. Now if you wouldn't mind, we will be on our way sir." He nodded cautiously to the man, gesturing to 7 to carefully stand and be ready to leave. "Leave? When we prepared a feast for our beloved children? You know the Pope requests they never go hungry." He spat back, his facial visage hidden by the white mask, but he maintained a constant stare in particularly 7's direction. "And you must let them fulfill their purpose after all, they were wrought upon this earth to punish sinners." 

Friedrich rested his hand on his sword's handle once again, his sights set anxiously upon the masked man. The loud and lively ballroom had gone silent. This was the land of neutrality but right now, these two men felt like they were in enemy territory. Why did they need to come to this god-forsaken event anyway, did the higher ups have a death wish for them? Their thoughts raced and tension only grew by the moment, the masked man stood still for a great while until he himself began to laugh boisterously. The two handlers were not amused, flat guarded expressions set undivided attention upon him. This was not some simple clergyman, God's Strength, that was the title given to the man the church titled Gabriel. What his name was before that day did not matter as he had reached the upper echelons of the Catholic Church. He held authority over these handlers, but that did not mean that their mission and his aligned.

"10.." Friedrich’s free hand pulled a needled syringe from his pocket, filled with dark-red liquor. The arm attached to the hand that grasped Nikolai's coat would have the needle puncture through to his skin, quickly injecting him with substance that would heal his senses as well as a jolt him with about five espresso shots worth of energy. "[i]Head back out the entrance, don't let anybody who comes after you stop you." Friedrich’s eyes peeled back to 10 for a brief moment, the look of determination quite intense upon his expression.

"7, go with him.. Only use your ability if someone gets close." Emmanuel calmly spoke to the small white-clad figure nearby, though, there was something strange in the handsome keeper's tone. But still his attention remained fixated on that masked man.

Gabriel would then snap his gloved fingers, and within moments numerous 'but not all' of the guests within that banquet would begin to don the same smile mask as he. They were armed with guns, crowbars, machetes, weapons of every type. And the festivities would swiftly come to an end as the individuals seemed to slowly creep towards the groups table. Luckily none of those sitting at the same table as the keepers had been part of this scheme, instead recognizing the situation and getting the fuck out of the way. But the danger of this situation should have been well-recognized at this moment. And Nikolai would quickly draw his katana again, this time not setting off the sonic mechanism before screaming "Go!" And upon the last uttering of his words, the mob of people would come rushing in their direction. Like a hungry pack of Hyenas.

Liverpool, U.K
23:00 // JANUARY, 24
@Vocab
"What a lovely night. Not a single star in the sky. Don't you think so, Tindalos?" 
A man robed in white and black spoke kindly to the small feminine creature, the road they walked upon had been dirtied beyond recognition with filth of every sort. Most had locked themselves away from the world at this time at night, but the two monsters creeping within the night embraced the pitch-black darkness as a cloak of security. Was it safe for a man of the cloth and his pet to openly walk the streets as such an hour? Together they had hoped not, and if they had it their way danger would find its way to them.

It wasn't long until a group of angered youths found their way upon the two. Dressed shabbily, unkempt, mucked from days without shower, homeless, meaningless individuals. They were armed with cheap handguns, a nailed bat, and a bicycle chain, almost like a scene out of that one movie. What was it called. "Don't mind me for asking this, I'm American. But are you guys the Warriors?" The priest happily laughed at his own joke, reaching his rosary-endowed hand up to his head scratching through his unnaturally white hair comfortably. The priest then shook his head dejectedly, what a shame to lose so many youths, they could likely make loyal soldiers of god were they given the change. But innocent blood needed be spilled, that was their purpose in this god-forsaken country after all.

"Before you answer that, I have a question. Would you tell this holy man where your boss might be located? There's no way this many young men are being kept alive by eating rats and stray dogs. If you answer I'll let-- Oh~ shall we say, two out of the ten of you live? My young daughter here hates to be wasteful, finishes her plate every time! But if I ask her to, she will spare you. Now what do you say?" The priest smiled uncannily, extended canines clearly visible to the disgruntled youths. 

"Fock uff, ye' old shitbag. I'll bash ye' brains 'n then sell y' little twat to some other old shitbag." The baseball bat bearing youth spoke, his hair dyed mismatch green and black some time ago and his brown roots had long grown in. A horrible sight for any to see. But this was exactly the answer the priest had wished to hear, and with a silent grace his hands came together in prayer. And he would nod to the promised child who accompanied him, giving her the 'go ahead'.
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