FourtyTwoIdea number 1 seems alright if we're keeping this serious. Number 2...Well, to me, the great, evil scheme makes it sound like something that's more lighter and brighter and more of a humourous take on the whole genre.
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10 yrs ago
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acquire raifu, defend waifu
10 yrs ago
Nothing quite like schizophrenic weather.
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10 yrs ago
At this point I don't even care where I end up. I just want to do something productive, bloody hell.
10 yrs ago
I still remember four...
10 yrs ago
Standing by to stand by, cap'n!
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Rough Sketch: Alpha Protocol/Burn Notice/Graceland Type Agent Work
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10 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
Clearing the rooms proved to be a long and frustrating task. With the emphasis on speed and the lack of time at the forefront of Zhenya's mind, every empty room simply fueled his simmering anger. A few of the rooms had enemy combatants; those were easily dispatched by Neil and him, but they had not been carrying the thing they were after or even anything remotely related to it. Other rooms contained messily-arranged piles papers or old radio kits. The former, Zhenya pocketed a few - they could very well be the only thing proving that Lima was indeed saving Copenhagen rather than losing it and going on a rampage - the latter, he smashed them up good and proper. No point leaving anything for the enemy to use.
It felt like a good half-hour had passed, but eventually Zhenya and Neil reached the last door. With his heart pounding and mouth dry, Zhenya took a moment to take a breath. "On three," Zhenya said and nodded to Neil, waiting for the spotter to prepare the flashbang before placing his hand on the door knob. "One, two," Zhenya said, then paused for a split second to open the door by just a crack. The flashbang went flying in and Zhenya shut the door again. A loud, ear-splitting crack signaled him to begin the assault proper, and he simply kicked the door down and went it guns blazing.
His shots obviously did not hit anything, but they did the job of giving the enemy something to occupy their minds. Blinded by the flash and deafened by the bang, it was not as if they could have done anything anyway. Their shots went all over the place, and orders given by their commander went unheard by the underlings. Moving to the left with his back against the wall, Zhenya easily dispatched his fair share of the enemy combatants. That was the easy part. Now they had to search for the device. Zhenya tossed the room, flipping tables, pulling drawers out and spilling the contents of entire cabinets, but nothing could be found.
"I have noth-" Zhenya began, but was interrupted by a loud explosion that rocked the room and demolished an entire wall. Luckily for Zhenya, he was on the far side of the room, and there were several pieces of furniture between him and the blast - courtesy of his less-than-gentle search of the room - which shielded him from the debris. Still, it took him a few moments to recover and regain his bearings. Immediately, Zhenya rushed over to the new hole in the wall, standing beside the Captain. The Pole did not really need to give any orders; Zhenya could already tell what was going to happen. It was going to be Mosul all over again, only this time they did not have any laws on their side.
He took a knee and took aim at the street below, taking shots at any enemy targets that presented themselves. It was easier said than done, there were plenty of civilians who made taking accurate shots difficult, and Zhenya swore that some were even standing around with their handphones out. Police vehicles were already closing in on the building, and the team had to move fast. Regular cops were of course no match for Lima, and even the special units would have a hard time, but Zhenya did not want to kill them if he could help it.
"Medved to Lima, police are entering the building. Making ourselves scarce. Moving to the basement." Medved-One's voice said over the radio.
There was a brief pause, and Zhenya could hear some shouting over the open frequency.
"Lady luck smiles on us, Lima. We found one of the insurgents. Looks like he got left behind when you spooked them. We will try to make him talk, give us a moment." Medved-One said, and that was immediately followed by very angry shouting in Russian, the frantic voice of a young-sounding man shouting back in a strange language, then the sound of rifles being cocked and fists being cracked. That seemed to do the job, as the man began talking rapidly again, tripping over his words as he did so. "I did not understand a single word he said, but I do recognize the word 'east'. They might be heading in that direction."
It felt like a good half-hour had passed, but eventually Zhenya and Neil reached the last door. With his heart pounding and mouth dry, Zhenya took a moment to take a breath. "On three," Zhenya said and nodded to Neil, waiting for the spotter to prepare the flashbang before placing his hand on the door knob. "One, two," Zhenya said, then paused for a split second to open the door by just a crack. The flashbang went flying in and Zhenya shut the door again. A loud, ear-splitting crack signaled him to begin the assault proper, and he simply kicked the door down and went it guns blazing.
His shots obviously did not hit anything, but they did the job of giving the enemy something to occupy their minds. Blinded by the flash and deafened by the bang, it was not as if they could have done anything anyway. Their shots went all over the place, and orders given by their commander went unheard by the underlings. Moving to the left with his back against the wall, Zhenya easily dispatched his fair share of the enemy combatants. That was the easy part. Now they had to search for the device. Zhenya tossed the room, flipping tables, pulling drawers out and spilling the contents of entire cabinets, but nothing could be found.
"I have noth-" Zhenya began, but was interrupted by a loud explosion that rocked the room and demolished an entire wall. Luckily for Zhenya, he was on the far side of the room, and there were several pieces of furniture between him and the blast - courtesy of his less-than-gentle search of the room - which shielded him from the debris. Still, it took him a few moments to recover and regain his bearings. Immediately, Zhenya rushed over to the new hole in the wall, standing beside the Captain. The Pole did not really need to give any orders; Zhenya could already tell what was going to happen. It was going to be Mosul all over again, only this time they did not have any laws on their side.
He took a knee and took aim at the street below, taking shots at any enemy targets that presented themselves. It was easier said than done, there were plenty of civilians who made taking accurate shots difficult, and Zhenya swore that some were even standing around with their handphones out. Police vehicles were already closing in on the building, and the team had to move fast. Regular cops were of course no match for Lima, and even the special units would have a hard time, but Zhenya did not want to kill them if he could help it.
"Medved to Lima, police are entering the building. Making ourselves scarce. Moving to the basement." Medved-One's voice said over the radio.
There was a brief pause, and Zhenya could hear some shouting over the open frequency.
"Lady luck smiles on us, Lima. We found one of the insurgents. Looks like he got left behind when you spooked them. We will try to make him talk, give us a moment." Medved-One said, and that was immediately followed by very angry shouting in Russian, the frantic voice of a young-sounding man shouting back in a strange language, then the sound of rifles being cocked and fists being cracked. That seemed to do the job, as the man began talking rapidly again, tripping over his words as he did so. "I did not understand a single word he said, but I do recognize the word 'east'. They might be heading in that direction."
In
Rough Sketch: Alpha Protocol/Burn Notice/Graceland Type Agent Work
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10 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
Alpha Protocol was one of the best things to ever grace my piece of shit computer, and now I wish I could get it to work with Windows 8.
I'd love to be part of this.
I'd love to be part of this.
Post is up.
Mess/Engine Room
Connor recalled the first time he ever saw a dead body. It had been a dismal day, complete with grey clouds and a light, freezing drizzle that chilled him to the bone. He had been dispatched out to one of the many uninhabited archipelagos to investigate a fishing trawler that had foundered in the shallow waters around one of the plentiful tiny islands. The ship's hull had been pitted with rot and slowly-expanding colonies of barnacles and the sails were little more that rags desperately clinging onto the yard. The sight and smell of the bloated, rotting and partially eaten bodies had made Connor throw up and swear that he would never see a sight more discomforting.
The thought was brought to the forefront of his mind as now, as he stood in the engine room, he felt an even greater pull at his heart as he saw the still bodies of those that had been trapped with him. No, their bodies were far less decayed and mutilated than those he found in the trawler, but oddly enough, he felt a lot more for them than the fishermen. It did not make sense to Connor, and he doubted that it ever would. Perhaps it was all to do with the fact that he actually talked to and at some level, knew those in the engine room.
With a shake of his head and a mental shrug, Connor set about pulling the bodies towards the ladder. "Thank you," He said to the other man who had climbed down with him. Granted, in hindsight it would have been better for Connor to stay up there to assist with pulling the bodies up and out, but for a reason that he himself could not discern, he felt the need to return to the engine room. A series of coughs alerted him and he rushed over to the boiler where Risa was still leaning against. He immediately rushed to her and knelt opposite the girl who had opened the trapdoor. TamTam, she had introduced herself. People in the future certainly have odd names, Connor figured.
"Feckin' hell, you're still kicking." Connor said, though from the looks of it, that was not going to be the case for long. Spying the pistol-like object that was on the ground beside Risa, Connor picked it up and tucked it into his belt, if not for safekeeping - it was a dangerous item, after all - then just in case. It could turn out to be quite useful in future. "We can't drag her, not while she still breathes, and I can't carry her on my own." Connor said quickly and looked at TamTam. "I'll need a hand. You take her arms, I'll take her feet, we bring her to the ladder."
He paused for a moment as he thought of a way to say the next sentence without sounding too morbid or pessimistic. "Then depending on her...State, we can go from there." Connor said after a few moments of silence, his voice low and his gaze shifted to the floor beside Risa. If there was a God above, and he did answer prayers, then Connor prayed that at least someone in the engine room would live. It was so unlike him to actually pray for someone else's wellbeing - people he had only just met, even - but after the whole debacle with the creature that may or may not have existed, he needed at least one person to be alive so that he could in good faith tell himself that he did the right thing.
Connor recalled the first time he ever saw a dead body. It had been a dismal day, complete with grey clouds and a light, freezing drizzle that chilled him to the bone. He had been dispatched out to one of the many uninhabited archipelagos to investigate a fishing trawler that had foundered in the shallow waters around one of the plentiful tiny islands. The ship's hull had been pitted with rot and slowly-expanding colonies of barnacles and the sails were little more that rags desperately clinging onto the yard. The sight and smell of the bloated, rotting and partially eaten bodies had made Connor throw up and swear that he would never see a sight more discomforting.
The thought was brought to the forefront of his mind as now, as he stood in the engine room, he felt an even greater pull at his heart as he saw the still bodies of those that had been trapped with him. No, their bodies were far less decayed and mutilated than those he found in the trawler, but oddly enough, he felt a lot more for them than the fishermen. It did not make sense to Connor, and he doubted that it ever would. Perhaps it was all to do with the fact that he actually talked to and at some level, knew those in the engine room.
With a shake of his head and a mental shrug, Connor set about pulling the bodies towards the ladder. "Thank you," He said to the other man who had climbed down with him. Granted, in hindsight it would have been better for Connor to stay up there to assist with pulling the bodies up and out, but for a reason that he himself could not discern, he felt the need to return to the engine room. A series of coughs alerted him and he rushed over to the boiler where Risa was still leaning against. He immediately rushed to her and knelt opposite the girl who had opened the trapdoor. TamTam, she had introduced herself. People in the future certainly have odd names, Connor figured.
"Feckin' hell, you're still kicking." Connor said, though from the looks of it, that was not going to be the case for long. Spying the pistol-like object that was on the ground beside Risa, Connor picked it up and tucked it into his belt, if not for safekeeping - it was a dangerous item, after all - then just in case. It could turn out to be quite useful in future. "We can't drag her, not while she still breathes, and I can't carry her on my own." Connor said quickly and looked at TamTam. "I'll need a hand. You take her arms, I'll take her feet, we bring her to the ladder."
He paused for a moment as he thought of a way to say the next sentence without sounding too morbid or pessimistic. "Then depending on her...State, we can go from there." Connor said after a few moments of silence, his voice low and his gaze shifted to the floor beside Risa. If there was a God above, and he did answer prayers, then Connor prayed that at least someone in the engine room would live. It was so unlike him to actually pray for someone else's wellbeing - people he had only just met, even - but after the whole debacle with the creature that may or may not have existed, he needed at least one person to be alive so that he could in good faith tell himself that he did the right thing.
I'll get a post up during the weekend. Sorry for my absence. ><''
Well, if Mokley gives the okay, I'll mention them as being dead or indisposed in my next post. I was hoping for everyone to get back to this RP, but evidently not. =\
I (finally) posted.
Got a post up.
GDI, should have factored in the swaying ship. Imma just chalk it up to Connor having limited seafaring experience, the Shetlands being an island in the middle of nowhere and all. XD
GDI, should have factored in the swaying ship. Imma just chalk it up to Connor having limited seafaring experience, the Shetlands being an island in the middle of nowhere and all. XD
Engine Room/Mess
Connor sat, slumped against the unused boiler beside Risa, his heading hanging low as he contemplated his current situation. Just yesterday, the greatest worry in his life was whether or not there would be a surprise mobilization, or whether war would suddenly break out between the British Empire and the Kalmar Union, thus requiring him to actually prepare for a real, blood-and-steel fight. Now, that all seemed like such minor worries. Not only was he stuck somewhere that could possibly be another world, he had to deal with the fact that he could have actually maimed or even killed the few people he had been trapped with.
The wounds did not match up, yes, but that did little to silence the nagging voice in his head. According to it, the creature had been nothing more than the product of stress, panic and his over-active imagination. "Quiet," Connor murmured and buried his face in his hands. This was not a situation he had prepared for, and aside from murderers, who could prepare for a situation where one had the blood of possibly three lives on their hands?
Suddenly, a creaking sound from above alerted him, and Connor sprung to his feet, but not before snatching up the bayonet he had earlier dropped. Looking up, he saw the trap door opening and the silhouette of a girl looking down at him.
The girl sounded very lively, that much Connor could tell, but in his dazed state, he still was not sure whether or not this was just another product of his mind. Still, deciding that he had very little to lose, he walked over to the ladder and slowly climbed up. Only then did he fully realize just how much he had exerted himself during the fight. His legs, and especially his arms, ached from the sudden exertion after such a long period of disuse. Mobilizations on the Shetlands were painless and rather boring affairs; he would show up with his rifle, stand in the firing line and fire off a few rounds into the ocean, march around for a bit and that was it.
Once he climbed through the trapdoor, and dropped to the floor, overly-glad that he was finally out of the accursed room. He took in a deep breath, then looked at the girl who had spoken to him through the trap door. She looked almost as pale as those who claimed Viking descent in the Shetlands, though he found it hard to tell her age, or where exactly she came from. "Others," He said numbly, pointing down to the engine room through the trap door. "There were others with me, but I don't know if they're still alive. The girl by the boiler...She was barely living when I climbed up."
He got to his feet. "I'm sorry for asking you this, lass, but I need help to bring them up. I cannot in good faith leave them down there."
Connor sat, slumped against the unused boiler beside Risa, his heading hanging low as he contemplated his current situation. Just yesterday, the greatest worry in his life was whether or not there would be a surprise mobilization, or whether war would suddenly break out between the British Empire and the Kalmar Union, thus requiring him to actually prepare for a real, blood-and-steel fight. Now, that all seemed like such minor worries. Not only was he stuck somewhere that could possibly be another world, he had to deal with the fact that he could have actually maimed or even killed the few people he had been trapped with.
The wounds did not match up, yes, but that did little to silence the nagging voice in his head. According to it, the creature had been nothing more than the product of stress, panic and his over-active imagination. "Quiet," Connor murmured and buried his face in his hands. This was not a situation he had prepared for, and aside from murderers, who could prepare for a situation where one had the blood of possibly three lives on their hands?
Suddenly, a creaking sound from above alerted him, and Connor sprung to his feet, but not before snatching up the bayonet he had earlier dropped. Looking up, he saw the trap door opening and the silhouette of a girl looking down at him.
“Hey, hey, come on out!! Come on out!! Wait! But I swear, if you're some kinda' creepy monster, I'mma...” she paused to consider her threat as she stared at the cannonball. Baby blues sparkled with an idea! “I'mma shoot you! Didja' hear that 'whump!' noise down there? That's right! TamTam has a cannon and TamTam soooo not afraid to use it again! Boom-Boom! Yeah-Yeah, I'mma shoot you!”
Dark thin eyebrows arched high as she shrugged, staring at FoxyLady as if to tell her: 'Hey at least I tried, right?' Baby blues popped wide and sparkled once more.
“Oh! And did I mention I have an attack wolf here too! That's right! Huuuuuuge teeth. Snarling too! I say the word and she'll eat you! You dead, son!”
A single calming breath she took as she waited with bubbling nervousness at the gaping hole in the floor. Thunder rolled over the ship once more.
“Uhhh... Helloooo..?”
The girl sounded very lively, that much Connor could tell, but in his dazed state, he still was not sure whether or not this was just another product of his mind. Still, deciding that he had very little to lose, he walked over to the ladder and slowly climbed up. Only then did he fully realize just how much he had exerted himself during the fight. His legs, and especially his arms, ached from the sudden exertion after such a long period of disuse. Mobilizations on the Shetlands were painless and rather boring affairs; he would show up with his rifle, stand in the firing line and fire off a few rounds into the ocean, march around for a bit and that was it.
Once he climbed through the trapdoor, and dropped to the floor, overly-glad that he was finally out of the accursed room. He took in a deep breath, then looked at the girl who had spoken to him through the trap door. She looked almost as pale as those who claimed Viking descent in the Shetlands, though he found it hard to tell her age, or where exactly she came from. "Others," He said numbly, pointing down to the engine room through the trap door. "There were others with me, but I don't know if they're still alive. The girl by the boiler...She was barely living when I climbed up."
He got to his feet. "I'm sorry for asking you this, lass, but I need help to bring them up. I cannot in good faith leave them down there."
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