Rawk

The Darkest Minds

It didn't occur to me until after I posted, but do the PSF guards have helmets on? O.o

The Darkest Minds

@Takida Inigo
@alexfangtalon

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

“One thing's for sure...” The kid responded with a curious stare across the field at a few of the guards laying on the ground, some moving and others still. “Doesn't look like those PSF jerks are having a good night.” He snickered, trying to make light out of an otherwise cluster of chaos.

At the get-go, Bryson knew he'd be the one to take point, not because he felt obligated to amongst his peers, but rather a genuine knee-jerk reaction to help the others, whether or not it would get him killed in the end. For the last two years it had gone from bad to worse, back to bad, and then the cycle continued as the administration did their best to make everyone else feel like aliens, freaks, rejects, or whatever not-so-original name they could conjure up for the kids. And contrary to what a few thought at first, the camp was anything but your usual holiday destination.

“Otherwise, I don't see an-" Bryson paused as he craned his neck around the door, catching a scuffle near the other end of the cabin, but just out of range of the noise. Squinting his eyes, he could barely make out the one being beaten, until it occurred to him who it was.

“Shit, it's Kord!” The kid exclaimed as he turned to the others behind him. “Guard just cracked him across the face, and he's down!” For a brief moment, Bryson was ready to leap out the door and gun it to the aid of his cabin mate, but reason overtook suicide as he remember the assault rifle the PSF officer had on him. “The dude is packing serious hardware, so...might have to sneak around, or-". And just like that, the kid had an idea as his eyes caught a small pile of stones just a few feet from the doorway.

“Alright, this seems crazy, but you should be able to pull it off. They're just projectiles, right? Practiced this all the time...” Bryson mumbled to himself before speaking at a normal level. “Uh, I'm going to distract the guard and hopefully do a lot of damage to him in the process.” He said with a sheepish grin. “Who's with me?”

But before the others had a chance to respond, Bryson took a few steps out the door and grabbed the stones, which were jagged and sharp, just as he hoped they'd be. He figured the distance between the cabin door and where the guard was standing over Kord was at least twenty-five feet away, still within a decent range for the kid to hit his target with a moderate degree of force. He raised his hand which held the golf-ball sized, jagged stones, and focused his thoughts as best he could on them as well as the target spot: the PSF dude's bulbous head.

Three of the five stones slowly lifted from the palm of his hand, rotating on their axis as they hovered a few inches while awaiting the next mental command, which came almost instantly. The projectiles launched with inhuman speed toward their final destination, raining hell against the side of the guard’s head in rapid succession, eliciting a loud growl and knocking the man off balance and to the ground. Bryson couldn't tell at that moment whether the guard was alive or not, but he was fairly sure a blow like that at least dazed him enough for the kid to have the upper hand momentarily.

Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Bryson ran over to Kord in hopes that he was still conscious. “Dude, you alright? We gotta get out of here!” The kid's words ran together as the adrenaline spike he’d sustained earlier from the telekinetic energy began to subside and what could only be described as a massive hangover washed over his mind, causing his hands to reach up to his head while he gritted his teeth in agony.

“Not again…”

The Darkest Minds

@Rawk Since I was the last one to post I will let you determine who between Alex and Bryson goes next.

@alexfangtalon

No problemo amigo. I should have my next post up within a day or two.

Also, where is the fighting in relation to our cabin?

World of Darkness: City of Angels

Posted up the first of several stops for the Archon in his pursuit of Sabbat activity...

World of Darkness: City of Angels

---

“Why are you here, Nicolaus?”

The same question surfaced from the lips of the middle-aged Jewish man behind the glass counter more often than not, and yet he knew the answer that followed, as it was the same response given by the vampire each time he'd had to come around.

“Information.”

And yet on this particular occasion, his duty to protect Camarilla interests and gain much needed intel were once again being tested as one's reach clearly exceeded their temporal grasp.

“And the truth, Mister DeLeo.”

Wexler’s Market and Deli on South Broadway had been the first of many stops in the Ventrue Archon’s current investigation, knowing that the longtime owner and operator, Stewart DeLeo, would be more than obliged to assist considering a few of his failed businesses within California -the Market being one of them- recently resurrected via funds provided by Nicolaus and other non disclosed partners through various holding companies and shell organizations that co-labored with the Camarilla. It was a mere drop in the bucket as far as business ventures go, and the whole operation was essentially a front to launder money being collected by those underground organizations working for the Sect, and in some cases, directly with members of the Inner Circle. Through the process of “structuring", incoming cash was broken into smaller deposits of money, thereby used to defeat any suspicion of money laundering and to avoid governmental anti-money laundering reporting requirements. In addition to those safeguards, certain law enforcement officials were gifted a percentage of the “cleaned profits” in exchange for turning a blind eye. However, what the true concern was, the focus of the visit, and one of the leads to a greater cause, were recent dealings with a centuries-old enemy.

“Truth?” DeLeo asked with his best quizzical expression. “What ‘truth’ would that be, Mister Strom?”

If the little man had at least one solitary tell, it was his usage of the title ‘Mister’, which he rarely ever spoke when addressing Nicolaus, unless of course, he was apprehensive about a particular matter...

“You have disappointed me Stewart.” The vampire gazed at the other with a deadpan expression, deviating from the former friendlier visage that he'd greeted with only minutes earlier. “Tell me about the deal you’ve recently made with the Lewis Brothers meat packing plant, as well as the names of those involved.”

It didn't take a high degree of supernatural ability to sense that the mortal was becoming quite uncomfortable with the sudden interrogation, especially one taking place in the front area of his store, specifically . The deli was an hour from closing and DeLeo would rather not be within earshot of any remaining customers. But Nicolaus didn't have the time to wait, and the handful of people doing their last minute shopping were nowhere within range, a detail the vampire didn't miss.

“Before something is said that may be detrimental to the future of your business...” For a moment, the Archon turned his attention toward the unaware shoppers scattered about before returning his gaze to the man. “I would suggest an early closing.”

Allowing a sigh to escape coupled with a furrowed brow, but otherwise ceasing any further comments he’d had ready to interject, the owner stepped toward the P.A. system. “Unfortunately folks we will need to close early for the night, so...my apologies for the inconvenience. Please make your way to the register for checkout.” The man’s voice couldn’t have sounded more drab and monotone if he tried, and the grumbling echoes from the now hurried customers only added to his tension. The next few minutes found Stewart fielding questions about his abrupt closing and apologizing numerous times while ringing up specialty kosher food items, during which time, Nicolaus stood on the sidelines until the last of them were shuffled out the door and the electronic lock secured behind them.

“So, where were we?” The deli owner asked rather nonchalantly as he passed by the other to scoot around to the other side of the glass display counter.

The Ventrue stood in silence, arching a dark eyebrow slightly as he waited for an answer to his previous question.

“Oh right.” Deleo spoke up and nodded as though he'd just recalled. “Lewis Bros.”

“Look Nicolaus.” The man cleared his throat, and the vampire could hear the rapid thumping of his heart. “I haven’t forgotten what you’ve done for me, but I didn't know it was-”

“You ‘didn’t know’?” The Ventrue promptly interrupted, something he rarely did to another out of respect, but this instance was different. “Or you chose to ignore it in hopes we wouldn't find out considering the small percentage of funds passing through here? Is that a correct assumption, Mister Deleo?”

There was a pause from the other before he nodded in acknowledgement, sweat running down the side of his balding head.

“You're smarter than that.” Nico frowned, yet his tone remained calm and even. “Why had you not come to us about this first, per our original arrangement?”

Again, a long pause came from the owner as he appeared to be sulking in his failures, averting his eyes from the vampire. “They threatened me and my family if I didn't comply, and they knew your Association was involved, which seemed to entice them even more so, but never gave a reason.” Stewart clenched his fist as he continued. “They knew where I lived, Nicolaus, as well as the names and addresses of relatives. I was just...looking out for my family you see.”

Nicolaus stood for a moment contemplating the man's words, sympathizing at least in part for his decision under duress. And while the Archon already knew that the Sabbat had taken control of various meat and produce distribution businesses throughout California and beyond, interweaving themselves like a virus into an otherwise legalized system, he was curious as to their unusual way of doing it. If anything was known about the Sabbat within the kindred community, it was that they rarely did anything unnecessarily, and with enough preconceived planning, could go unnoticed for years until the time was right to surface. But this situation seemed different from their usual “sleeper cell" tactics, as though they were either being deliberate in their actions to eventually get caught, or they were becoming slopping out of desperation. In a way, Nicolaus figured it was both scenarios: anger and desperation for the loss of San Francisco, and to give the middle finger to the Camarilla in general.

In either case, Stewart DeLeo had been a victim in this, and as it usually went with the Sabbat involved, the mortal pawns in this game would be the ones who suffered for the “greater good" of their demented vampire master.

“Then continue your dealings with Lewis Brothers as normal.” The Archon finally responded after consideration. “However, our people will be keeping close tabs on their transactions specifically, and you will be required to check in with us every six hours, especially if they are to meet with you again. We want all details. Am I clear?”

The other nodded without hesitation, and while he knew very little about his “business partners”, or whether they were part of some kind of mafia, he knew that there was very little he could do to back out of the deal. Either side of the deal.

“So, business as usual then?” Stewart asked with a sheepish grin, patting his face and forehead with a damp dish rag.

“Until further notice, yes.” Nicolaus nodded, heading toward the front door. “You’re a good man Stewart, but do try to be more careful.”

New RPer here

Welcome to the Guild @TiredKhajiit

I actually made a post in the casual interest check area, as I have an idea for a game. :)

@TiredKhajiit

If it's a TES-based game then let me know as I've been craving one for awhile :)

The Darkest Minds

The kid couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent an entire two years anywhere on the planet, and he sure as hell didn’t expect it to be a concentration camp for wayward juvenile freaks in the middle of nowheresville. He still couldn’t help but recall those first few weeks at the camp, it’s hectic ups and downs, and the excruciately long days of grunt work that were delegated by the soldiers and administrative adults who seemed to have nothing better to do than make every single teenager there more angsty and pissy than they already had been. Clearly none of them had kids or they’d at least somewhat sympathize with what each of their young minds were going through on a daily basis.

Ah, and then there was the White Noise…

It was enough to drive anyone batshit crazy, and yet it happened more often than not like clockwork, screwing with each of the kid’s minds in a way that was the epitome of mental torture. On a few occasions, when he wasn’t curled up in a fetal position on the floor with his hands cupped over his ears, Bryson found himself clawing at the painted brick walls to the point that a few of his fingertips bled from the incessant friction, and headaches came more frequently, some of which had him cringing in bed for hours.

But, amongst all the chaos, Bryson made the best of it because really, what was the alternative?

Being the outgoing lad that he was -somewhere between a Type A and B personality- Bryson could find a friend in just about anyone he’d had a chance to actually converse with when not being oppressed by the man. It seemed social activities were on the downlow, and generally frowned upon by the upper echelon jerks who ran the place, accept for those within the cabin you were assigned. The kid’s negative outlook toward adults only increased exponentially the longer he was at the camp, realizing that those with power were more to blame than those without, and yet there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He wasn’t violent and never had been even in his earlier childhood, but the more the establishment pushed, the more he wanted to push back. Be a leader for the people, break out with wicked Braveheart quotes while swinging a very large two-handed sword. You know, the normal stuff that fifteen year old kids dream of when they’re held against their will in a prison camp from hell.

His cabin mates, he supposed, were a decent enough group to get along with, which was one of the only reasons Bryson himself didn't go off the deep end. They all had a knack for keeping each other accountable as best they could, and helped in the necessary steps it took to train and soldier through each of their newfound powers, being careful not to stray past the threshold that could inevitably cause irreparable damage to their surroundings or themselves. Everything went relatively well, that was until Koren got pinched by the patrols and was sent into solitary confinement for what felt like the rest of his life. After that, it seemed as though the soldiers had it out for the crew in our cabin, making their life’s work to make them as miserable as possible. And to think, it could get worse?

First it was the slimming down of ration allowance during mealtimes, followed by random “wake up" calls in the dead of night by way of loud banging along the metal panels outside the cabin. After that, they started shutting off the hot water, forcing each of the boys to take cold showers, and eventually turning the water off altogether, which was a crime in and of itself since teenage boys can stink up a small space like something fierce.

Needless to say, it made any further attempts to get along with the other kids a challenge as sleep deprivation and even illnesses came and went with the phases of the moon. It didn't take long either, as one by one, each of the kids grew apart, isolating themselves enough at all four corners of their abode, as the welling up of anger, fear, and general unhappiness washed away better judgement.

But a reprieve from the monotony had come, and it rode on the tails of a possible revolution...or a terrorist attack. Either way, Bryce welcomed the break, as whatever caused the earthquake and explosion outside sent enough chaos and confusion flying across the encampment that those soldiers who previously walked their scheduled patrol routes were then focused on whatever was transpiring.

Brilliant.

“Can anyone see anything?” Bryce spoke up while peaking around one of the steel support columns near his bunk. “We under attack?”

He quickly made it over toward the door and slowly turned the handle, cracking the door just enough to stick his face between the small space.

World of Darkness: City of Angels

FYI, updated character image and NPC section...

What upppp

Genitals: Accounted for

@Oooie

What the...? I didn't know that was one of the required categories when introing O.o

Anyway, glad to see you're whole and welcome to the Guild, friend!

The Darkest Minds

@alexfangtalon

How are the cabins laid out, btw? Is it a simple open floor plan with some cots lined up like an army barracks? Is the bathroom in the cabin or do they need permission to go to a separate building for restroom breaks, showers, etc?