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Hitman male Member

Mori Quam Foedari

STATUS: Someone out there vividly remembers something you said, which you have completely forgotten. 4 mos ago
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Recent Statuses

4 mos ago
Current Someone out there vividly remembers something you said, which you have completely forgotten.
6 likes
2 yrs ago
They call it science "fiction" when there are currently more planets inhabited by robots than planets inhabited by humans.
1 like
3 yrs ago
"Writing about magic is harder than writing about spies because you’re dealing with something that doesn’t really exist."
3 yrs ago
If you're ever lonely, dim all the lights and put on a horror movie. After a while, it won’t feel like you're alone anymore. Problem solved.
11 likes
3 yrs ago
“Before you marry a person, you should first make them use a computer with slow Internet to see who they really are.”
9 likes

Bio



HITMAN

"𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝙰𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚍. 𝚈𝚎𝚜... 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎. 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚋𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚎. 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑."

Who I Am

Longtime RPer that has not RPed in a hot second. Pondering a return from a self-imposed exile.


Where I Am


Currently Running
Nothing at the moment, but maybe keep an eye out.

Currently Participating
n/a. Maybe it'll change? ;)

Honors

"He's a two-faced bastard of a GM."


"He's American. Enough said"


"He abuses us with lenny faces"

Comment: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

"He hates the gays"


"Wait, since you're a hitman, can't you just scan the bar code on the back of your head and just bring your post back?"


"I have never met a more horrible, selfish, ungrateful human than Hitman. I wish I didn't have to live inside his body 24/7 for the rest of my pathetic, meaningless existence."

老吾老，以及人之老；幼吾幼，以及人之幼

Most Recent Posts

In 《 H. E. R. O. 》 → 4 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Grace shrugged at Tom's comment as she "This is an international resort. Not many places in Europe with this climate, anyway." She stretched her arms out, as if to catch more rays of sun. "It's probably nothing. In fact, almost definitely nothing. I read over the security procedures that this place has. It's rather in-depth. A lot of identity confirmation and official paperwork required, and they do background checks as well to make sure you are who you say you are. Plus plenty of security on the island. The only way that any villain could possibly be here is if they knew somebody on the inside," Grace explained as she lifted her arm, slicing downward with her fingertip. A shimmering portal opened in front of her. "I left the brochure in the room; we can head there quickly," she said with a wink, and with that, she hopped through the portal.

She landed back in the room softly, before turning back towards Tom as he entered the hut again via the portal. "C'mere, gwiyeoun," she said bashfully, before wrapping her arms tightly around Tom and very nearly pouncing on him. Her lips collided with Tom's as her form pressed against his. She pulled back, her eyes sparkling with joy, her locks of damp violet hair falling messily in her face, her cheeks gently tinged with a faint shade of red blush. "Oh, Tom, jagi" she said lovingly as her hands roamed across his back, pressing her nose to his. She took a deep breath. "I've wanted to say this for a while..." she started diffidently, looking away for a moment, before her eyes focused in on his again. "But I really lo-"

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

A loud sound, like that of a drill, loudly shrieked out from deep beneath the hut, and the foundations of the building gently shook. It was not enough shaking to concern Grace of the possibility of imminent natural disaster, but it was enough shaking to break the mood for sure. Grace released Tom from her grips, her face rapidly becoming annoyed as she looked at the ground. "Geuliseudoleul wihaeseo!" she hissed, sounding annoyed. "What is this? Maintenance or something? We paid specifically to get away from this type of nonsense-"

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

Grace's face turned red again, but this time not out of prudeness, but out of pure irritation. "I am going to figure this out this instant. This is unacceptable for a vacation. This is frankly disgraceful on behalf of the resort. How can I reasonably be expected to enjoy quality time with my boyfriend with this cacophony going on? I am going to find whoever is doing this and give them a piece of my mind," she ranted to Tom, as if he was a resort employee that was causing the noise and shaking in the first place. "We are going to go. Right. Now," Grace demanded as she lifted her palm. An orb of purple energy, the same energy that created her portals, formed in her palm. She pointed it downwards and sent the orb into the ground. The orb, like it was water, splashed outwards and formed a portal as it cut into the ground of the hut. The projectile of energy continued to travel through the earth until it reached the other end, forming a matching portal there. Grace frowned as she tapped her foot. "That took longer than I thought it would take..." she muttered

Grace sat down on the bed, putting on a pair of expensive, sporty sneakers that had probably never seen physical activity since they were removed from the display case. "You don't mind going on a quick excursion, right, Tommy? Sorry about all this..." Grace sighed as the drilling noise commenced again. "But I swear I'm going to lose it if I hear that noise again." Grace stood, walking over to the portal. She dipped her toe in, like she was testing the waters of a pool, before hopping into the portal.

Grace landed inside what appeared to be a maintenance office. There were thick metal walls on three of the sides of the room, with a metal grate floor and a large window of glass on one side. Against one of the metal walls was a security station, with a number of monitors depicting a variety of security camera footage. The man at the computer was wearing a red and black uniform with a matching face mask, but thankfully, he was currently asleep. Grace crept over to the window, her eyes widening as she took in what she was. Inside there was a massive open space inside what appeared to be a cavern. Several layers of metal walkways ran around the sides of the room. In the center of the chamber was a massive black pillar with glowing red tubes wrapping around the device. At the top of the pillar was what appeared to be some sort of cryptic MRI machine, albeit one that was jet black and covered in similar red tubes that were pulsing with energy. Patrolling the walkways were a number of guards in matching red/black uniforms.

"This is insane," Grace whispered, turning to Tom with a sense of great urgency on her face. "What is this place? What's going on here? I-" She was cut off by the sounds of footprints coming from nearby, growing louder and louder, coming from behind a nearby steel door. The sounds of jovial chatting between colleagues also grew louder. A disk of purple energy formed in Grace's palm. "This is bad," she whispered to Tom, looking up urgently at him, as the doors opened. Two uniformed guards looked at each other, before quickly lifting their weapons. "Err, freeze, you! You can't be here!"


Meanwhile, well above the mysterious fortress of death, a figure approached the ongoing beach volleyball game. He was an imposing figure, standing at more than 6 feet tall. He had dark skin and was impressively muscled, though most notably, he had what appeared to be tattoos of chalk traced around his body in elaborate artwork. He had dark black hair that was pulled back into a ponytail and shimmering olive eyes. He was wearing a pair of light blue board shorts. There was something a bit ominous about him, but first and foremost, the man was certainly a stud.

As the volleyball moved over the net, right before it could hit the sand, the man blasted into action. Moving at breakneck speeds, he was suddenly on the court, and grabbed the volleyball before it hit the ground. He lifted the ball into the air, holding it in his palm. "I believe you aren't supposed to let this hit the ground," he said coyly as he smiled. "I'll give you a pass, though. Sorry for interrupting your game. My name is Yousef." He nodded at the group, his smile having a certain charm to it. "I'm a hero from Egypt...ah, but no need to introduce yourselves. I'm, of course, very familiar with your work." He squinted at Joseph and Chad. "Well, most of you, at any rate. I look forward to getting to know some of you, but I'm also happy to be in the presence of such hero legends. Starbright! We've heard of you around the globe now...oh, and you must be Ms. Jamie Stewart. Quake." He smiled warmly as he approached Jamie. He smelled of expensive cologne. "I've read about you in the papers, but you seem even lovelier in person," he said flritatiously. "I'd love to get to know you better. After this game, perhaps?" He reached into his pocket and removed a folded piece of paper. "It's always good to spend some...quality time on vacations. Well, I best not interrupt your game any longer." He tossed the ball to Joseph. "Enjoy your game."



patti just bcuz u cant handle ur booze doesnt mean the rest of us cant ok stfu

Blake sent another text to the group chat as he absorbed the information that had been divined. He knew that he had seen that mystery girl before, and now he had remembered her from the Gugliano mansion. His interaction had been limited to only a few moments, but in those few moments, the girl had killed the one man that the rest of them combined couldn't keep pinned down. She was certainly dangerous. Blake texted again, alright b careful...looks like something is ab to happen. Blake had sent this because one of the men, a middle-aged balding man with a Dali mustache, had tapped his fork against his cocktail glass repeatedly. Once the room quieted down, the man coughed into his fist before speaking. "Greetings, greetings. As you know, my name is Jim Rockferry, and I'm the president of the Castleburg North Club. I've organized this event today to help rethink how Castleburg conducts organized crime. I'd like to welcome a man that we've all known and hired before. Please welcome our friend, the Black Baron!"

Nearly the entire room cheered, and Blake joined in, clapping his hands together as he focused his eyes on the figure emerging from the crowd. He was an old man. A very old man. He had wrinkled skin and only puffs of white hair remaining, and in his hand was a diamond-studded cane. HE looked sagely around the room before speaking. "Good afternoon, my friends. As you know, I've spent many years of my life working to help bring down heroes. Many, many years. Now, though, my hourglass is running out of sand. My die is cast. Luckily, though, I've found a perfect somebody to help succeed me in this enterprise. Hopefully, she will be the one that helps bring long-lost unity to the different criminal enterprises of Castleburg. She's already proven to me that she deserves the title this past week. Please welcome my successor, the Black Baroness!"

Blake's eyes nearly rocketed out from his sockets as Malady stepped forwards, giving a curtsy, before standing next to the Black Baron, who put a hand on her shoulder. The crowd immediately began to converge onto the teenage girl, and Blake grabbed his phone and sent a text.

wtf wtf wtf what do we doooooooooooooo

He then took a deep breath, grabbed his martini, and downed it all in one sip. He needed it.



Powers nodded, impressed. ”Excellently done," he said as he stepped through the now-melted door. Inside was a long corridor of metal, illuminated with red lighting. Powers folded his arms as he walked down the hallway, mostly unimpeded. There were two guards that were standing in the corridor, but they were no match for the speed and prowess of Powers. In a split second, Powers had grabbed the two guards' heads before they could even realize what was happening, and promptly slammed them together, Three Stooges style. He dropped them to the ground and stepped over their bodies, continuing to make his way through the corridor, which eventually led to another door, protected by some sort of badge reader. Powers did not even need Pandora for this one- he simply wound up and slammed his shoulder directly into the doorway. The door was blasted off its hinges and crushed the unfortunate guards standing behind it to the wall.

Powers entered the room. The room was large and noticeably very cold. Steel floors and steel walls were lined with tons of computer servers. Computer towers full of blinking lights shimmer down on the duo as they entered. Powers crackled his knuckles. ”If I'm not mistaken, back in your day, they didn't quite have this type of tech. I will work on disabling it. If you could deal with the guards that will be arriving any moment now." As Powers made his way over to one of the server towers, as if on cue, three armed guards stormed the room, barking orders at each other. They then raised their weapons, scanning the large server room for any signs of life, as more reinforcements stormed towards the infiltrated room.
In 【 Spy High 】 → 4 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Ben was just about to crawl into the vents when heard Carmen yell “Wait!” and felt a tug at his pant leg. He looked down at Carmen, lowering his hands from the vent as he listened. “I didn’t disagree, did I? I’ll go. It’s a good idea, and… well, I am shorter than you,” she joked. Ben gave a small nod as Carmen continued, “You’ll be better down here than I will.” And with that, Carmen yanked Ben off the desk. Ben teetered at the edge of the desk before hopping off, landing on the carpet. He shrugged. ”Alright, alright. Be careful up there,” he said to her. He watched the Colombian girl slither into the vent. He stood there quietly for a few moments, before he suddenly realized he was staring. Oh, God. His face turned a bright scarlet and he quickly looked away, diverting his attention towards a nice speck of dust on the floor instead. It was this puberty stuff kicking into high gear again.

Ben ignored the fluttering feeling in his chest as he brought a finger to his earpiece. ”Gotcha, Carm-...Agent Babel. See if you can find any info on where any of the other team is at,” he said into the earpiece as he turned around, only to realize he was staring down Alice, who was aiming an arrow directly at him. ”Oh, fuck,” he said, his voice still transmitting to the rest of his team, as the arrow launched through the air. Ben was fast on his feet, very much so, but he was not fast enough to dodge a speeding arrow. It hit him squarely in the chest, sending multicolored paint all over his vest, pant legs, and leaving a few splatters on his face, while also throwing him back into the wall with a loud thunk. His head collided with the drywall, leaving a nice dent there. His earpiece was launched from his ear, falling a few feet away from him, nearly invisible on the carpet. Ben slid onto his butt as his feet gave way. His eyes were bolted shut, his head rested against the wall. That hurt.

Ben was not the type to give up easily, and it seemed as though he wouldn't go down without a fight. His eyes still shut, he patted at his belt, trying to grab his weapon and take this ambushing woman down with him. His fingers loosely grabbed the holster of his pistol, but they didn't form a grip. If he pulled his weapon, Alice could hit him with another arrow, and if she aimed anywhere outside of his chest, she could probably do even more damage. Ben's face heated up, his cheeks hot and bright red, humiliation clear on his expression, but he didn't fight back, instead just teetering over, laying his head down on the carpet. ”Fuckin' cheater...” he gasped quietly, but outside of that, Kingfisher remained mostly passive, though the embarrassment at being taken out so easily was clear on his face. He wiped some green paint from his face as he grimaced at the thought of it all. He had let his team down, that was for sure. Hopefully, they would forgive him for falling prey so easily...


Meanwhile, in the vents, only shortly after Ben disconnected from the communications, a small red dot began to pulse deep in the vent, about 4 or 5 meters ahead of Carmen. The dot was on top of a Claymore-like explosive, a black box sitting in the middle of the vent, facing Carmen. As Carmen got just an inch closer, the bomb detected the girl and promptly exploded with a loud bang that resonated throughout the facility. Tiny balls of condensed paint were blasted out from the bomb, covering Carmen in a hefty coating of paint as the entire vent shook uncertainly. Thankfully, it did not collapse, but Carmen's hopes of moving through the vents unnoticed had most definitely imploded.
In 《 H. E. R. O. 》 → 4 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Grace nodded sympathetically. "Saving the city on a daily basis does tend to be rather time-consuming," she agreed, nodding politely at Tom's answers. "I do love Zoe Kravitz as Catwoman..." Grace said with a nod as she tapped her chin, thinking of her own answers. "Let's see...Parasite, the original Korean one, obviously...and then bibimbap, strawberry, and herons. Herons are quite nice. So majestic...oh, the masseuse is here. Grace gave Tom another warm smile before rolling onto the massage bed. "This better be worth the money..."

One intensely relaxing massage therapy later, Grace stepped out of the room with a bright smile on her face. "So relaxing..." she said warmly as she wrapped an arm around Tom's waist. "It feels much better when you get to let everything go, you know...thank you, jagi," she whispered to him as she cuddled her head against his side. Their brief moment of intimacy was interrupted, however, by a couple that approached them.

The two individuals looked like movie stars, with a certain glitz and glamour and raw beauty that seemingly could only be attained by the rich and famous. The man was tall, with slicked-back black hair and a thick beard of hair. He was huge, maybe 6'5" or 6'6", and muscled like a bodybuilder, with dark brown eyes to match. He was wearing a pair of swim trunks that were covered in little seashells. The woman was possibly a goddess come to life, with longs locks of flowing cinnamon-colored hair and flawless tanned skin. She was wearing a pair of designer shades and a crimson bikini that accentuated an hourglass figure. They were, in short, gorgeous. The woman spoke to the two of them, her voice sharp and boisterous, her pristine fingers lowering her shades to reveal mocha-colored eyes. "Oh. My. Goodness. Spacewalker? Bypass? Wow! I didn't know HERO came to this resort!"

Grace was somewhat peeved for her personal moment to be interrupted by these two strangers, but she pulled away from Tom somewhat, addressing the couple with a polite nod. "Yes, that's us...and you are?" she asked, partly flattered but partly wary.

"Oh, I forgot to introduce us! I'm Andromeda, and this is Nikolai. We're heroes from ATHENA. The Greek hero agency, number 18 in the world!" She smiled proudly, a hint of arrogance on her face, but she spoke more than cordially to the two. "I have to say, I am such a fan of you two. Your powers are so incredible! And I didn't realize you two were together..." She held a hand over her mouth, as if this was a totally shocking revelation. "Wow. I totally ship it. You two are officially my new favorites. I used to close with Seraph, but, you know, the whole coup d'etat thing. Shows how people can really be somebody totally different deep-down, right? Such a shocker...anyway, it's so incredible to be able to speak to you two and see you here at this resort! Such a wonderful coincidence...oh, and by the way, Bypass, that bathing suit looks incredible. Seriously."

Grace blushed, enjoying the flattery immensely. "Oh, thank you, thank you, I was trying to try something different from the usual style, you know!"

"You look great. Suits you perfectly." Andromeda gave another facetious giggle. "You two should come visit us!" She held up her key ring, which had a large stingray on it. "Manta Ray Luxury Hut. It's right down the way here, you can't miss it. We have a lot to talk about...oh, and maybe we could play some doubles tennis or something! Well, see you!" Andromeda gave the group a wave before walking off. Nikolai, who didn't make a sound other than a grunt, followed her. Grace turned to look at Tom. "We should go! They seem nice. And cool. And awesome. We're definitely going."




"Alright, guys, let's go over the plan again..."

The entire mob-infiltration group was crammed into a warehouse storage bay near the docks. Blake, after some preparation and help from Christina and Zoe, looked totally different from usual. His usual spiky hair was, after hours of combing, no longer spiky for once. His scarlet hair had been straightened and pulled back, falling down to the nape of his neck. He was wearing a black formal suit and crimson tie with a black fedora perched on his head. A revolver was clipped to his belt, though he had no intention of actually using it. In his breast pocket was a fake ID for "Niall Fitzpatrick," a talented rookie Irish mobster. "We walk up to the ship with the hostages in tow." Blake gestured to the fake hostages, who were both handcuffed in a pair of magician's handcuffs that Blake had found in his bedroom. "We bring them onboard and snoop around. Hopefully, Black Baron is lured out by the promise of free kills. But! We don't let him kill them. Instead, we isolate Baron, take him out, and then call Christina to evacuate us." Blake smiled confidently. "Perfect plan! Alright, let's go, hostages. I'm gonna probably say some mean things about you guys, but I totally don't mean them. OK? Ok. Let's do it."

Blake grabbed Rumi by the collar and practically dragged him out of the warehouse. Outside, there was a rather large gathering of all sorts of criminals. Yakuza, triads, Irish mobsters, Italian mafiosos, superhero hunters, drug dealers, and more. It would've been a beautiful multicultural event, had it not been a gathering of Castleburg's finest criminals. Sitting on the shore was a massive riverboat, the size of a cruise ship, with bright orange-and-green colors glistening in the sunlight. "OI!" Blake shouted, guiding one of the hostages along. "I found'a 'ero snoopin arooehnd de dahckyards! we gahtta make 'im pay! he yelled. His Irish brogue was modestly more convincing than earlier, and while he did sound precisely like the Lucky Charms leprechaun and not an actual person, it was close enough for the man guarding the boat ramp. Criminals, as it happened, were not very smart.

“a 'ero, 'oehh? we ooehght to joehst feed 'im to de feshes befahre de rest o' 'is 'ero friends fend oehs!”

Blake had to hold back a chuckle. This man’s voice could not have been more comedic He took a deep breath before continuing with the plan. I gaht a better idea. We should keep 'im as a 'ahstage! Gives oehs an advantage if 'eroes do manage to track ‘oehs down," Blake responded, and the man seemed to agree. The poor goon was even dumber than Blake. That was a very sad thing to be. “Alright, alright, you gaht a point dere, mate. Leave 'im in the boiler room, and make sure 'e doesn't roehn ahff. We'll deal wit 'im later. You gaht a tecket?”

"Right ‘ere,” Blake said, flicking the forged pass out of his pocket. The guard gave a nod. “Right this way, mate. Welcome aboard, Niall,” he said, and Blake nodded in response, dragging Rumi along onto the river boat. It was a rather marvelous ship, decorated like the Titanic, with a lovely 1920s theme onboard. Carpets, chandeliers, lovely ballrooms, all filled with the most dastardly criminals in Castleburg. Blake practically carried Rumi along into the boiler room. "Alright, man, here’s the key. If the Baron shows up, just call me. Or, you know, take him out yourself. Whatever." Blake looked down at his watch. "The ship takes off in a few minutes, so the rest of them should be boarding soon. I’m going to go get wasted now. See ya!" Blake tossed a cell phone and a key at Rumi before ducking out of the (very smelly) boiler room. "Have fun with your hacking! " Blake called out before ducking out of the room and making his way back towards the actual gathering.

Blake made his way over to the bar, of course, getting a martini and looking around the room as he sipped the drink. Nobody that looked like the Baron was in sight. Blake did notice, however, somebody that seemed vaguely familiar in the crowd. A girl with long tresses of black hair and crimson eyes, not much older than Patricia, with vampiric pale skin. She dressed in a sparkly burgundy dress and was chatting with one of the Irish mobsters. Blake thought for a moment and then shrugged. Deja vu, maybe.

He texted the group on his phone. No sign of Black Baron. Im at the bar. Ideas?



”Excellent. Then let’s not waste too much more time," Powers said as he simultaneously sank his ball into the final peg. "As it happens, this croquet area is near the edge of the resort’s property. According to my map, there should be a cave just due east of this area." Powers trotted briskly in that direction, his mallet slung over his shoulder, and sure enough, in the horizon, a cave located right along the shore came into view. Standing in front of the cave was a group of suspiciously-dressed men, all wearing uniforms of red and black and wearing ominous black face masks. They were all armed, but not holding their weapons. Clearly, they were unprepared.

Powers held a hand over his eyes to block the sun as he looked. "It seems as though those gentlemen are guarding a number of crates. I think it’s best we give them a visit.” Powers pointed at a nearby sniper post. "I’ll deal with the thugs. You take care of that fellow, if you could.” With that, Powers jogged over towards the group of men, croquet mallet still in hand.

One of the men saw the Director and blinked beneath the mask. “Sir, this is a restricted area, I’m going to have to ask you to- AIEEE!” He didn’t even finish his sentence before Powers had slammed him with the mallet right in the stomach, launching him into the air before he splashed into the water. Powers spun around, taking down two more with a well-aimed mallet strike, before throwing the hammer like a javelin, launching it right into the cranium of one of the men with a deafening crack. The last goon had grabbed his gun and squeezed off a few rounds, but Powers shrugged off the bullets like one would angry mosquitos, before slapping the thug right across the face. The goon crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

”That’s done with,” Powers said, reaching down and removing the top of one of the boxes. He nodded slowly. "Parts,” he muttered, taking out a few of the pieces. "Lots of spare parts. Now, what could they be doing with...nuts and bolts?”

Powers contemplated as he waited for Pandora to return. He scooped one of the guard’s rifles. ”I expect that the entrance to their hideout would be through this cave,” he said, stepping inside. Deep inside the cave, a red glow was pulsing from behind a pair of thick, titanium doors. Powers turned towards Pandora. "If you may,” Powers said, gesturing towards the doors.


In 【 Spy High 】 → 4 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Ben listened to Olly lay out the plan for their training excursion. It was not a terrible plan. He had to admit, he would've much rather have been the person on the crane than inside the building, but overall, it was a thought-out plan. Olly was right- this was not a group that they would win against if they charged at each other full-on. Binx was a menace with her explosives. Alice was crafty and dangerous with an advantage. Adam was practically a troll from Lord of the Rings. And Bug...Emily was somehow scarier than the rest. If there was anything inside that building that had a drop of voltage in it, it would all be over. Still, Ben was quite confident in his team. They were, for the most part, the listeners and rational thinkers of the group. That was probably why they were the defusers and the others were the bomb planters, anyway. ”Sounds like a plan. Let's just all be very careful, alright? Outside of the paint cleaning, it hurts like hell. Don't want any of y'all to go through that. Hurts like a bitch.”

He looked at the group of so-called "distractors." Olly was pretty good at distracting, with his skillset and all, and he was a decent shot on top of that. Carmen...was pretty much useless here. Not to say she was useless in general! She was definitely not at all. But, for this particular combat exercise, she was rather useless. Ben had seen Carmen in the practice range at the HQ...truth be told, he was more worried for his teammates being hit by stray paintballs than he was for the opposition. Still, Ben put on his confident smile as he approached them. ”Alright, let's get ready. Olly, you might want to head for that IT room. I'd be damn surprised if Em isn't holed up in there...” Ben noted, looking down at his AP-Watch and speeding through the small report HIRAM had compiled for them. ”Keep her busy. I'll distract the others. Carm...you should probably come with me.” Ben gave a (somewhat forced) kind smile. ”Don't want you getting caught out by one of them and getting shot. Erik, don't miss, or I kick your ass!” Ben added, calling out to the crane, before re-adjusting his focus on the building.

Nadia, who had been looking at her watch for the past few minutes, looked up at them. "That is time. Move in. Best of luck," she said, before looking down at her phone to check something out.

Ben moved forwards quickly, one of his chosen pistols holstered at his waist and still spinning around his finger. He tightened his grip on the weapon as he crept over to the building. Most of the windows were either shattered or removed, which was a good sign for the group's sniper. Still, there were a few glass panes and other walls to block Erik's shot. Ben took a mental note to avoid standing near them as he carefully crept through an open window, landing quietly inside the building. The first floor, as the report had noted, looked fairly abandoned. Mostly pillars and the like. Ben's eyes swept the vicinity, searching for any signs of life, as he shimmied behind a concrete column. He pressed a finger to his earpiece. ”Kingfisher here. No signs of life where I'm at.” He peered around his cover again, noticing something. A blinking red dot in the distance. Not good. ”They got the cameras online. Be careful,” he noted, aiming his pistol out from behind the pillar, and fired a round. A gentle "pop" sounded out, not too loud but not silent for sure, and hit the security camera square on the lens, covering the aperture in pink paint. Ben retracted the gun, turning and firing again. Another camera was splattered in paint soon after. ”Knocked two down. Keep your eyes out,” Ben said as he stepped out, cautiously moving forwards.

He positioned himself behind another stone pillar at the stairwell. ”Binx left us some presents,” Ben said into the comms, picking up a pebble from the ground and tossing it at the bomb. A volcano of paint quickly erupted from the modified explosive, sending a myriad of rainbows splattering all across the stairwell, as the sound of the explosion echoed through the building. It was fairly loud. ”Nice try, Binx,” Ben whispered to himself as he quickly crept over to the staircase, hopping up two at a time. There would be paint on his shoes, and there would probably be questions, but that wasn't the prime concern right now. If they lost, there would be a lot more paint everywhere.

Ben knew that, odds are, there would be angry people with paintball guns heading their way shortly, so as soon as he got up the stairs he quickly sought cover, and he found it. A nice cubicle up against the wall. Ben quickly moved inside the cubicle, pressing his back against the cubicle wall, until he saw something perfect. ”Air vent!” he said quietly but excitedly as he hopped onto the desk, reaching up to the ceiling-mounted vent. He had to stand on his tip-toes, but he managed to reach the grate, giving it a wiggle. It came off without a hitch, nails popping right out, and Ben slowly lowered it, being careful not to drop it, before hopping down to the ground himself. ”Carm, this is perfect...you can climb right in and head around the whole floor from above!” Ben said excitedly. ”Just watch out for any rats or loose screws.”

Ben's face quickly scrunched up with guilt, however, as he shoved a hand into his pocket. ”I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to. Just an idea. I mean, I can go, it's just, you know, Nadia made me go through air vents all the time on missions. Because of the height thing,” Ben said uncomfortably. ”But I don't want to volunteer you, y'know...I'll do it, actually,” Ben said quickly, starting to step onto the desk and head into the vents. ”Keep an eye out for traps, I guess.”


Meanwhile, Nadia was glaring at her phone "The audacity..." she muttered under her breath as she typed furiously on her mobile device. Kem ona sebya vozomnila? Neveroyatno... she added in Russian. "Hiram, get her off my phone. I leave my hotspot on for one second, and she tries to leap her way into classified intel! Shut her down, immediately," she commanded, and the robot helper obliged.

Back inside the building, Bug's computer screen would flash blue, as Hiram's voice (very loudly) filled the entire room and then some, blaring out of the speakers at full blast. "I'm terribly sorry, agent, but I'm afraid I can't allow you to access the Director's phone," HIRAM said apologetically. "If you continue trying to access the Internet, I will have to shut you down. Again, sorry about all that! But rules are rules. No Internet for you. Oh, dear, I'm not giving away your location, am I?"

Nadia, meanwhile, looked up from her phone to see another agent arrive. Yuto Shitnaga, fashionably late. What a surprise. Luckily for him, Nadia hadn't put him in the assignment. In part because, as the driver, she couldn't fault him too heavily for the failure of the Timbuktu mission. Also, in part, because she knew that the Japanese agent could not aim a weapon to save his life, and that forcing him into the assignment would only be bad for him, his team, and for Nadia to watch. Nadia instead just glared at the agent silently, before accepting the bottle of iced coffee. She removed a switchblade from her jacket pocket and flicked out the knife, using the blade to pop the top of the bottle. She took a long gulp, before shaking her head. "Not dark enough," she noted, flicking the blade away and stuffing it back in its spot. "You are free to watch," she added after a moment of somewhat awkward silence, tapping a button on her phone. An image of all the security cameras (most of them; some were covered in paint) appeared on a TV screen Nadia had wheeled out from the van. "I have a feeling things are about to get...interesting. In a good and bad way."
In The Sisters of the Dying Branch → 4 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


"I can't believe this shit..."

Dakota was currently standing outside of Arken's car, leaning against a streetlamp. Between her index and middle fingers was a lit cigarette, and smoke cascaded from her lips almost elegantly as it wafted into the night sky. Dakota had sworn that she would behave, but she had been standing out here in the night for hours. Hours. This was exhausting, and entirely unnecessary. As Dakota had predicted before they had gotten to the cemetery, there would be nobody there, and, surprise surprise, she was right. All a massive let-down. Dakota pressed the cigarette to her lips again, taking another long, frustrated drag. She was a night owl, true, but being a night owl generally meant doing something fun, not sitting in Arken's car for hours watching some depressed grandmas enter and exit the graveyard to mourn their poor dead husbands.

Dakota shook her head. She should've spoken up earlier, when the plan was being formulated, and actually spoken her mind, but she was far too busy stuffing her face with pizza when that was all going down, not actually paying attention. If she had known that this would be what the witchlings of the Sisters of the Dying Branch had come up with, she would definitely have shut it down hen and there. Still, no use crying over spilled milk. Thankfully, it seemed as though 2 A.M. was almost upon them, which meant that they would finally go back to the motel and call this whole stupid operation quits.

However, as the hour came, Dakota finally saw something. A flash. And then another. A total of six flashes, right by the cemetery gate. Dakota knelt down, taking cover on the side of Arken's car, peeking her eyes over the hood of the vehicle. Three of the figures had hopped the fence, and the other three lingered. These were either the most pyrotechnically-gifted graverobbers in history, or, more likely, these were the vampires. Dakota felt the adrenaline rush through her as she reached behind her back, pulling, from an old leather holster, her gun. It was a weapon that was special for her- a Ruger Blackhawk, an old 50s revolver, with the initials "DCL" engraved into the barrel. It was a gift from her father, and while it was certainly an interesting gift, it was one of great sentimental value to Dakota. Outside of being a sweet reminder of her dad, the weapon was also practical- her father had put several enchantments on the weapon, and it was loaded with 6 thick .45 silver bullets. Any vampire on the receiving end had better say their prayers. Dakota looked over the top of the vehicle again, thinking. She would prefer to deal with the vampires with magic instead of with bullets, but at the moment, it seemed neither would be the case. Dakota was positive the vampires were looking at her, and so instead of acting, she waited for a few moments, for the vampires to turn away, before she struck.

That was, until, she heard the scream.

Dakota was not particularly well-versed in the screams of her friends, but she was fairly certain it was one of the girls (Caleb did seem like a pitchy screamer, though, so not to rule him out yet). Regardless, that was bad. Somehow, their cover and been blown, and they needed help fast. Iris, however, being even less subtle than Dakota, decided to just run at them. The vampires turned to face her as Dakota's mind raced. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..." she muttered, fiddling with her knife. She hadn't exactly done too much research on the likes and dislikes of vampires, but it was fairly common knowledge that fire and vampires did not mix. Well, Dakota did happen to have a very small fire on her. All she needed was a little bit of power. And so, Dakota snatched her keychain from her belt, flicking open the tiny Swiss Army Knife attached on it, and dragged the knife along her hand, from her pinky diagonally across to her thumb. She winced and bit her lip to stop from crying out as she made the cut, and snatched the half-dead cigarette from the ground. Blood splattered onto the cigarette, dying it a maroon color, the ember at its tip still glowing as bright as ever. She took a deep breath as she imbued her magic into the cigarette. Alayna would've been much, much better at this, but unfortunately, Alayna was busy getting nibbled right now, and so Dakota had to make do. She wasn't exactly an elementalist, but she had doled out a non-insignificant amount of blood to make this worse. "Get back!" Dakota yelled, before she threw the cigarette with a powerful flick, right at the vampires.

It was as though she had thrown a Molotov cocktail, almost. A flower of crimson fire erupted from the cigarette, brightly spreading as Dakota's makeshift curse-bomb blossomed into a brilliant flame. The remains of the cigarette hit the ground, with burgundy-colored smoke rising from the charred tube like a flare. Dakota staggered out from behind the vehicle, her gun back in its holster, one hand clasped tightly over the one she had cut. "How's that for a sunburn? Anyway, let's go already. I'm not sure if that did them in or not, but either way, we have people to save." Dakota looked down at her hand. She was bleeding pretty badly, blood dripping from beneath her clasped hand. "And does anybody have a Band-Aid? Last thing we need is for Callie to puke herself again in the middle of a fight."



Jean-Luc stuck out like a sore thumb. His clothes, his car, everything; it was all incredibly out-of-place in this shantytown of a village. Jean-Luc gave a somewhat dejected sigh as he parked his car next to the Williamson Inn, a building so derelict it looked haunted. Ghosts might be a larger concern than vampires at this rate. Jean-Luc reached into his jacket pocket, removing a small bottle of hand sanitizer gel from his pocket, and squeezing some into his hands. He rubbed his hands vigorously as he made his way into the inn. He triple-checked to make sure his car was locked before entering the building.

"Ugh," were the words that managed to escape his mouth once he entered the room. It was...beyond disappointing. Jean-Luc's immediate instinct was to blame the Coven, but it wasn't really the Coven's fault, nor the town's fault, that vampires had decided to set-up shop in the middle of this hellhole. These sentiments didn't exactly make Jean-Luc feel better, but it was what it was. Jean-Luc hefted his bags over onto the bed, took one look at the sheets, and then decided he couldn't possibly fare worse on the pull-out couch. He laid his luggage down there, removing two bottles of Febreeze from inside. A couple minutes later, the boy's room would smell like roses. It still looked disgusting, of coarse, but at least it didn't stink of mildew. Jean-Luc heard one of the girls, Rowan, mention something about meeting in their room, and so he went off, though he made sure to take a bottle of Febreeze with him.

Jean-Luc spritzed a few times as he entered the room, listening to what Rowan had to say. For somebody he had pinned as meek, she was surprisingly decisive. It was nice to hear a voice of reason in a group that tended to lack some. Jean-Luc had to thank his lucky stars that some of the others hadn't been assigned to his group. Namely, Calypso Barnes, Caleb Bishop, and Dakota Lawson. The Three Stooges of bad decision-making. Still, his good impression of Rowan wouldn't stop him from ripping apart her plans in typical fashion.

"I disagree entirely. Vampires do not operate during the day. As you may know, they are extremely vulnerable to the sunlight. As such, we will not be able to get much done after the sun rises tomorrow." Jean-Luc rubbed his hands together, working in some Purell. He felt the need to stay sanitized at all times in this ruinous excuse for an inn. "That being said, you are correct in your assertion that some of us may need rest. It would be unfortunate if one of you were to die because of sleep deprivation. However, I suggest that at least some of us journey out to at least taking notes of suspicious, perhaps vampire-related activities. The rest should bunker up and fortify the area with some sort of spellwork. I trust you're capable of at least the most juvenile of magic, being fully-fledged witches now connected to the wellspring."

Jean-Luc stepped out. "If you'd like to come with me on a tour of the town, meet me at my car. I have my own ways of disguising myself and my vehicle. Ways that don't involve hopscotch rituals," he said derisively, before stepping out of the motel room. God, this place smelled.

In 【 Spy High 】 → 4 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
𝙾𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝙲𝚘𝚠𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚜
𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝙳𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚛

𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎: 𝟷0/5/𝟸0𝟸𝟷
𝙻𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚗, 𝚃𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚜
𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚎
𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛: 𝙷.𝙸.𝚁.𝙰.𝙼. (𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙵𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝙰.𝙸. 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚗!)




In 【 Spy High 】 → 4 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay




𝟸𝟸:𝟻𝟸
𝙾𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝙲𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚎
𝙼𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝙵𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝙷𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚂𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕, 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚇
𝟿/𝟸𝟿/𝟸0𝟸𝟷

Nadia Sokolova was pissed.

This was not an uncommon occurrence. Nadia Sokolova did in fact have a tendency to be angry. The cheer squad could attest to their instructors' high standards, low patience levels, and general aura of irritation. Nadia was the type of person that simply did not enjoy smiling, simply put. She was always a frosty, callous, blunt, and often irritated person. Right now, however, Nadia was even more pissed than usual. She was extremely annoyed. Extremely. Her face was stony and her fists clenched as she walked down the hallway of Millard Fillmore High School. It was late at night, and so the building was almost entirely empty. Or at least, so everybody thought.

Nadia made her way over to a broom closet, gripping the doorknob tightly before swinging it open. She nearly ripped the door clean off the hinges, a creaking sound coming from the dilapidated closet as she angrily opened it up. She looked left, and then right, before stepping into the closet. She swung the door shut behind her before wrapping her hand around a mop standing perched nearby. She pulled it down like a lever, the entire closet immediately filling with a gentle blue glow. A robotic-sounding posh British voice echoed through the small room. "Good evening. Please complete the retinal scan to proceed."

Nadia nodded stiffly, looking over at one of the shelves in the closet. She pushed a few bottles of cleaning solutions out of the way, pulling forward a dusty old bronze bust of Millard Fillmore. She leaned in, staring directly into the statuette's eyes. A red laser glow pulsed from each of the bust's eyes, scanning for a few moments before giving a happy ding. "Scan complete. Welcome. Director Sokolova. To what floor will you be heading?"

Nadia folded her arms, grunting. "Command Center. Now."

"Can do. Heading towards the Command Center now." The floor underneath Nadia rumbled, before a small square platform, right around where Nadia was standing, began to slowly sink. Nadia descended into the ground as the mini-elevator slowly moved downwards. Nadia impatiently stared at the wall, her arms still folded, tapping her foot impatiently on the ground. A few moments later, the elevator stopped, and a pair of glass doors slid open, revealing a spacious room. It meshed the colors of cyan and silver nicely, with a massive conference table in the center of the room, multiple massive screens plastered on the walls. The screens were currently showing a live feed of some desert area. Several well-dressed men and women were dotted around the room, some standing in front of the screens, some sitting at the table, some having a meltdown in the corner of the room. Nadia stepped into the room as a man ran over towards her. He was tall and intimidating, standing at nearly 6'4" with an impressive build to match. He was balding, his hairline having retreated significantly, with the hair that he had left being wispy gray and combed back. He was wearing a tuxedo and was clutching a folder full of papers under his arm. "Director Sokolova. Glad you finally got here."

"Good evening, Agent Stanley. Apologies for the delay, I had a personal conflict I had to deal with." By personal conflict, Nadia actually meant cheer competition. As a professional spy, she did find it somewhat embarrassing that she was skipping out on her duties as Promenade Director to go work with cheerleaders of all things, but when you were leading a two-time state champion team that was in a good place to take a third trophy, you had to make sure you showed up to competitions. Nadia had already negotiated a major raise with Principal Donoghue already and anticipated another one with a third win. If Nadia was going to have to work as a teacher during the day, she might as well be a well-paid one. Sokolova looked around the generally chaotic room. "It seems like a zoo in here. What's going on?"

"We had a very interesting encounter," Agent Stanley said gruffly, walking over to the conference table and taking a seat. "Very interesting indeed."

Sokolova followed him, sitting herself down in a comfy leather chair. "Fill me in. Now."

Agent Stanley laid his files out on the table, spreading several dossiers and photographs out across the area. He gave a quick cough to clear his throat before speaking. "As you know, the team is on the first major mission of the school year right now. They were warped into Mali to stop a group of antique robbers from stealing some ancient manuscripts from Timbuktu."

Nadia glared at the agent, snapping her fingers impatiently. "I know, I know. I briefed them on this mission. Warp in, catch the guy, incapacitate them, warp out. They should've been back by now. What happened? What went wrong?"

Stanley coughed again, blinking nervously. Nadia had that effect on people. Even a trained spy like Agent Stanley, who had worked for MI6 for 17 years before coming to Promenade as a handler, was still somewhat intimidated by the woman. She was scary. "Well, how do I say this...alright, everything. Everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. Turns out the guys they were after planted some bombs in the university. The kids, they’re totally stumped by this and freeze up, blow their cover entirely. Total failure in that department. Then, there's this massive shootout. Massive. Imagine how the civilians must have felt, with a bunch of teenagers duking it out with a gang of African looters. Anyway, thankfully, none of the kids got really hurt. Maybe a sprained ankle or something, but nothing serious. They manage to take down a couple of the looters, but most of them escape with the manuscripts. On top of that, a bunch of the bombs went off and turned a good part of Timbuktu’s historic district to rubble. And to top it off, one of the criminals had a contact in the Malian government, so now these kids are being chased across the desert by the military...you want a water, Director Sokolova?"

Nadia was glowering. Her lips were so tightly pursed that her face was paling, all in pure rage. Her fists were curled up in tight balls. "I would love a water," she said stiffly, staring at one of the screens. Two rickety hummers were rolling through the desert, followed by a large number of military vehicles in hot pursuit. Occasionally, there were bangs of gunfire that echoed through the conference room from the speakers. Nadia grumbled something in Russian as Agent Stanley handed her a cup of water. She downed the entire cup in an instant, slamming it back roughly on the table, a sharp bang echoing throughout the room. "Scratch that. Get me a vodka," Nadia said, her teeth clenched. She released a heated sigh through her teeth, resting her elbows on the table and her head in her palms, running her hands through her hair. This had ended in a trainwreck. There would be inquiries, and damages, and lots of mind wipes necessary. This is what happened when you worked with amateur kids. They were extremely gifted and bright, but equally as inexperienced and prone to be being flustered. They lacked the ability to keep a cool head most of the time. That was why this Timbuktu incident had become such a massive disaster, that inability to react on the fly. Nadia shook her head, trying to dismiss these negative thoughts from her mind. It was better to think about the future, and how that would be addressed.

Lessons plans were something that Nadia had never imagined herself devising before she came to the States, but here she was. She had to somehow find a way to teach high school students- in essence, a bunch of chimpanzees- how to engage in spur-of-the-moment, advanced spy techniques. She massaged her temples for a few moments, staring directly at the table. What did high schoolers like? Sex? Drugs? TikTok? Those weren’t exactly options. Sports? That wouldn’t work, would it?

Nadia thought for a moment, before she removed a notepad from her pocket and grabbed a pen from the table. She stared at the blank page for a second before bringing pen to paper, and she began to plan. "Stanley! Do you know any places in Swindon that are abandoned? I'm getting the beginnings of an idea."



𝟽:0𝟷
𝟷𝟽00 𝙲𝚘𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚊𝚍
𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚗, 𝚃𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚜
𝟷0/5/𝟸0𝟸𝟷

”Fuck…”

Benjamin James McBride was awoken that Saturday morning by his alarm. That was extremely unusual. Ben was definitely a hard worker, but he was not one to set an alarm for 7 in the morning on a Saturday after a long week of school and a foreign assignment. Something was going on here. Ben grasped at his phone from his bedside, but found that it wasn’t the source of the noise either. Ben grasped blindly a few more times at his nightstand, grabbing the actual source of sound. He looked over. It was his AP-Watch. What the hell was going on?

Still lying in bed, Ben dangled the watch in front of his eyes. The word “Emergency” was emblazoned on the face of the watch, in thick, bright orange letters, pulsing over and over again in rhythm with a constant beeping sound from the watch. He blinked, the gravity of the situation slowly dawning upon him. ”Woah, emergency!” Ben said urgently, slapping the watch onto his wrist and jumping out of bed. He got changed in a split second, throwing on a sea-green t-shirt and a pair of khakis and shoes. He grabbed his earpiece- a perfectly transparent device that was easily missed if one was unobservant- and hooked it into his right ear. ”Hiram. What’s the situation? What’s going on?”

There was a momentary delay and some static, before a pre-recorded message in HIRAM’s obnoxiously posh British voice flicked on. "Good morning, agent. Mandatory training exercise at 1700 Coolidge Road in Swindon in exactly 27 minutes. Failure to attend will result in significant consequences." With those ominous words, the message ended. Ben glared at the watch. Well, there went his Saturday morning. Still, training was very enjoyable, even if it was early in the morning. Ben grabbed a rucksack from his closet and looked around his bedroom. It looked less like a room that belonged to a teenage boy and more like a room that belonged to a gang leader or hitman. There were guns everywhere. Shotguns, pistols, machine guns, snipers, hunting rifles, antiques, everything. Ben stuffed a sawed-off shotgun and handgun into the bag, along with some other gear, before quickly running out of the room. He left a note for his parents on the kitchen counter before lacing up his boots and taking off.

Swindon was not a place that could be easily traveled across without a car, but luckily, Ben’s house was only a hop and a skip away from the address that HIRAM had told him. 1700 Coolidge Road was a few blocks away, and it was a condemned office building that once held a DMV. Slinging the backpack over his shoulder, Ben took off into a brisk job down the sidewalk. The sooner he could make it, the better.

A few moments later, he had arrived, approaching a tall metal fence with a cautious sign on it. Ben charged forwards, running at the fence, and then jumped at it, scuttling up and over like a squirrel. He landed with a thump on the other side, looking back. He had totally missed the door. Oh, well. Jumping the fence was much cooler. Ben walked towards the old building. It was in bad shape. Entire walls of the building were absent, showing to the world the building's dilapidated interiors, with rows of empty cubicles lining the interior of the rubble-filled structure. Several cranes were parked outside of the building, though it seemed as though construction had been paused for that day, or perhaps the construction workers weren't there yet. Outside of the building was a parked white van, and leaning against the van was Nadia, wearing a black suit and a pair of shades. Ben gave a meek salute. ”Morning, Director,” he said, looking up at the beautiful, yet intimidating, lady. The last time Ben had seen Nadia was a few days prior, when he had just gotten back from Timbuktu. That was a memory that Ben would like nothing better than to wipe from his memory. Talk about humiliating. There couldn't have been a worse way to start the year.

Nadia nodded. "Yes, good morning," she said in a thick Russian accent. As a spy, Nadia could speak a number of languages in practically any accent she wanted, but she preferred speaking with her native Russian brogue. She thought it was much more intimidating. She wasn't wrong. "Welcome. Go inside, grab some items." She reached aside, opening the van's back doors. Inside, Ben saw a massive supply of weapons. All sorts of new-looking guns (pistols, snipers, shotguns, rifles, and even two bazookas), along with what appeared to be grenades and other explosives, and a bunch of what appeared to be nightsticks, though all of the said batons had what appeared to be a rainbow-colored tip, like some sort of deadly-looking paintbrush. "As they say, early bird gets worm. You are first, so you have the choice of weapon." Nadia looked into the van. "They are all paint. Paint grenades, paintball guns, paint batons. We are doing a training exercise. Make sure you take a vest, too. It won't make it hurt too much less, but it will at least keep your clothes safe," Nadia said dryly as Ben dropped off his more lethal bag and picked up a (paintball) hunting rifle, which he slung over his back, and two paintball pistols, which he clipped to his belt. He then put on a vest and hopped out of the vehicle. He unholstered a pistol, spinning it around his finger effortlessly as other agents began to show up.

Nadia repeated the same instructions over and over again like a drone, looking down at her watch in increments. "Alright. Welcome to our training exercise. It became apparent after the horrendous disaster that was Timbuktu that you all need a lot more training. A lot." As Ben winced in embarrassment, Nadia grabbed three small backpacks from the front seat of the truck. "In order to get this important information through your thick skulls, I will be doing this drill in the form of...a competitive game." She stared coolly at them. "There will be two teams. One, the so-called terrorists. The other, the response team. The terrorists will be given three of these devices." Nadia held up the backpacks. "These devices are designed by Professor MacMahon. They can rapidly synthesize 200 liters of paint and fountains them out the top. The 'terrorists' of this training operation will be given a head start to plant the paint weapons in the abandoned facility and defend them as they so please. The response team will then be given time to disarm the weapons. If the response team disarms all the bombs in time, they win." Nadia tossed the backpacks to Emily, Binx, and Honey. "You can use any of the weapons here as you see fit, along with any of your own, provided, of course, that they are non-lethal. Any questions?"

Ben raised his hand. ”What happens if we get shot?”

Nadia raised an eyebrow. "That is a stupid question. You get shot."

Ben's cheeks turned pink in embarrassment. ”Yeah, but, like, are you out or something? Like in paintball?" Ben was very good at paintball, being very good with guns in general.

"Oh, I see...allow me to demonstrate." Nadia reached into her waistband. In a single swift move, she drew out a pistol, aimed at Ben's chest, and fired. A ball of red paint swiveled through the air, hitting Ben in the sternum. He yelped very loudly as he was thrown off his feet, falling with a thump to the ground. "AUGH! Ow, ow, owie owie ow ow ow...” Ben moaned, as he rolled around on the floor, clutching his chest, the expression of pain clearly on his face as Nadia holstered her weapon. "There are no 'eliminations.' If you are downed, then you are downed. Though some of you are assuredly much, well, larger than Agent Kingfisher, I will also inform you now that it will likely still hurt just as much." She reached into her breast pocket, removing two pieces of paper, and used a magnet to pin them to the side of the van. "I took the liberty of creating two teams. The terrorists will have a few minutes to prepare. I have cut off the opposing side from your earpieces, so feel free to use those in peace. Ground rules, no leaving the premises, and...that's it. Oh, and try to show some mercy. If your opponent is lying on the floor, crying like a little girl, I would advise you not shoot them again. But I suppose that is up to you." Nadia looked them over. "I almost forgot. If the terrorists win, the responders will have to clean up all the paint in the facility." She paused. "With a toothbrush." A menacing smile grew on her lips. "If the responders win, however, they will have 3 minutes to pour as much paint as possible in the facility, at which point the terrorists will have to all the paint in the facility. With a toothbrush." Nadia looked at her watch. "Well, without further adieu, let's begin. Good luck. Your time starts now."


As some of the agents ran for the hills, Ben struggled to his feet. He gasped as he made his way over to his group, his arm still wrapped around his chest, a red dot emblazoned on his vest. "Let me just say...that shit hurts,” he complained as he stood up straight. "Anyway...let's think about how we're going to go about this,” he said, grabbing his pistol from his holster again and twirling it effortlessly in his palm. Playing with guns was definitely a very bad habit of his, but he did it so easily that it was almost hard not to. The weapons were quite literally second nature to him. "We should probably move in groups; we'll cover more ground that way and we'll find where they're hiding faster and disarm the weapons sooner. Any ideas how we should splinter up? If at all? If we all go in one group, we'll have better odds of taking the other side down...but we do lose valuable time...” Ben pondered, tossing his pistol up in the air and catching it. The plan was the most important part of an operation for Ben- a good plan meant a good execution, which meant a flawless victory (and no clean-up job for him.) "Any ideas, y'all? I really don't want to have to spend Saturday cleaning up paint, for Christ's sake.”
In 【 Spy High 】 → 4 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay




Color: a2d39c




Both look good! You can move them on over.
In 【 Spy High 】 → 4 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


I looked for every possible way to reject this application but unfortunately I cannot. Looks good, move it on over :p







Much better, looks a lot cleaner! The personality section is a little thinner than I would like, so I would like to see it fleshed out a little more at some point. That being said, you can move it over right now and elaborate on it more once we get IC :)
In 【 Spy High! 】CLOSED → 4 yrs ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks
𝙶𝙼 𝙰𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝:

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝙿 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜! 𝙸𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚙𝚘𝚙 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙾𝙾𝙲 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘! 𝚆𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚎 (𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚘 𝚠𝚎 >:𝙳 )


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𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜! 𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗!
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