Y'know, this is pretty off-topic but I wanted to ask, does anyone else here airsoft? I've been going for about a year now (and managed to run through a plethora of guns, including a CM16, an L86 - too many tech issues, an M249 - too heavy and an MP5 - which was just boring. However, my girlfriend's mum is probably one of the nicest people I've ever known and got me an E&L AK (E&L are pretty much one of the best AK brands out there) and I've loved it since. Just a curiosity.
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Most Recent Posts
I posted the timeskip. I think RAVEN/NEST will be the focus because I don't really know what to do with my other characters atm.
Lihua, Jen, Meifeng, Cindy, & Mika will be chilling in their cribs if anyone wants to do anything. Otherwise, they won't be used unless for a filler post.
Also, Henry has inspired Trevor to become a NEST Agent. Where he will flagrantly abuse his powers, and get paid to do so. Becoming a terror that will go down in the history books as something people will fear ten generations from now.
There will be strip searches.
Lots of them.
You mean like...
Oh by the way, you accidentally named Cass instead of Quentin in the first headline.
Nice to have a doctor around.
Just gimme a heads-up when you're ready for the REAPER mission collab, I'm itching for an excuse to start writing again.
So.... I just bullshitted my way into a job. I got offered a business admin apprenticeship (they said I have skills that'd be good there) and went into an interview not expecting much. Later on that day they went and offered me the job. 13K a year when I start and it'll go up to 18 by the time I finish.
Leonard "Leathers" Russell
“Ey’, Lenny!” A voice shouted from across the ways, beckoning to him for attention. Private Leonard Russell quickly tugged at his rifle sling and padded through the crowded trench towards the voice that called his name, yet every step seemed to place it even further away. He walked on and on, then he walked some more - feeling where the damp had begun to seep into his boots. Eventually he saw his old pal Petey stood at the precipice, rifle in hand, offering him a hand up to the ladder, into the breach.
The battlefield was clear, it seemed. Other men advanced around them, seeming in good spirits, yet something seemed amiss. Just as he stepped over a roll of barbed wire- “Fritz!” He heard someone else shout aloud, and he frantically scrabbled for his rifle as he saw a faint glow in the distance, growing ever closer.
Fire. A literal wave of fire, embodied by the glowing specters of the enemy, pronged helmets and all. Men all around him - his brothers in arms - they raised their rifles and fired in unison to no avail. Machine gun fire drummed in the distance, as did the shells of their artillery. Their enemy would not yield. Leonard froze in place, unable to move, until he heard a voice. ”Shit, Lenny - snap out of it, we gotta move!” Petey socked him across the jaw and tugged at his sleeve and finally his legs started working again.
They made a beeline for the trenches, paying no attention to the spectral screams of their advancing foes and the men who were scorched and crushed underfoot. Leonard dove into the trench and fell flat on his face in the mud, only to feel Petey yanking him back to his feet and throwing him deeper into the trench as the flaming soldiers approached. He stopped and turned back, only to see his old pal scorched to ashes by the vengeful specters. As they turned their crimson bayonets on him, he felt the flesh along his arm begin to blacken and crackle...
Leonard shuddered as he felt the droplets on his forehead, waking him prematurely from his morning nap. Blinking a couple times, he glanced up to see where earlier’s raindrops had seeped through the branches and their leaves, before hoarsely clearing his throat and looking around for that mongrel of his when he saw him padding around in the direction of the farmstead.
“Petey… psst, Petey!” Leonard whispered, snapping his fingers and whistling to catch the dog’s attention. Finally he listened, snapping his head towards his owner with pricked ears and eventually padding over, tongue lolling out. Leonard smiled faintly and gave him a scratch behind the ears with his scarred palm, before driving the other into his knee to stand up. He wondered how long he'd dozed off and gave his jacket a firm brush for good measure, before heading back towards the others, wondering if they'd finished their little baseball game.
He made it back just in time to see the eastern boy, Julian carrying Clay’s lifeless body towards them and hear about how some crazed madman had killed him, before they did the same in self-defence. Leonard felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle as he saw how badly the poor bastard had been torn into, noticing that the wound on his neck looked even worse than those caused by barbed wire or artillery shells he’d seen during the war. It was enough to make him instinctively feel for his holstered pistol, yet before he could say anything he caught earshot of the boss, Farmer Tackett, hollering at them to get inside.
Like a couple of the other farmhands, the sound of the radio blaring in the barn quickly caught Leonard’s attention and he did as best he could to listen in. Red Plague.. it made his neck bristle yet again - and so did his scarred arm, which was never a good sign. If the years on the road had taught him anything, it was that his gut was the only thing worth a damn trusting - and his gut told him that he’d be glad he slept with a gun close at hand tonight.
<Snipped quote by Zombiedude101>
No need to say sorry.
Though, now I feel a little dickish for moving on with Sonya's plot without you. lol
Hah, just assume Cass came along for the ride.
Sorry I dissappeared, was at my girlfriend's and didn't get much of a chance to keep tabs on things.
Just altered a couple things about Leonard to work better.
Quentin & Cassius Taylor.
Working for NEST was tiring, especially given recent events and after a long day out Quentin wanted nothing more than to grab a shower and a cool drink to wind down, maybe refresh himself with another session of Terminator. Heading back home, he was just about to twist the key in the door to his apartment when he realised it wouldn’t turn any further. “Huh,” he muttered, fiddling with the handle. Oddly enough, it opened. Quentin quickly paused, looking over his shoulder, then listened carefully for any noise coming from inside. Nothing, though the kitchen light was on.
Silently drawing a pistol out from beneath his jacket, he slowly stepped inside, wedging the door open to avoid alerting anyone who might’ve been inside. He hugged the wall, weapon at the ready - these fuckers wouldn’t get the drop on him this time. It was only when he spotted the faint reflection in the window across the room that he recognised the old man.“Oh, fuck-” He quickly holstered the gun back under his jacket before he was noticed. “Cass? How’d you get inside?”
“You don’t call for months and that’s how you want to say hello?” Uncle Cassius had helped himself to a bottle of coke out of the fridge and had an eyebrow arched as he grilled his nephew. “Yeah, yeah, it’s good to see you, but - you didn’t answer my question.” Cass snorted, amused at his nephew’s apparent short-term memory and dangled a blank key above his coke. “You forgot you gave me a spare? Nevermind. I know you’ve had a lot going on, working for NEST takes its toll, just like my work, huh?”
Quentin didn’t even care about how Cass had found out - probably through one of his well-informed colleagues in the VPD if not by himself, but the look on his face told that he’d not expected it. No point hiding anything now, it seemed. He grabbed a beer from the fridge, pulled up a chair and popped the cap off with a firm twist and almost broke it in half in the process. Shit, he’d forgotten his own strength lately. “And you know about what I am? Did you ever figure out I was one of them?” Cass took a moment to answer that, swigging from his own bottle for a brief moment.
“....I don’t know. I heard rumours but I didn’t want to believe any of it. It was a different time back then, y’know? NEST, metahumans, it was all new and frightening to people back then. People didn't understand it like they do now. Look, Quentin, I wanted you to have control over your own life and make your own decisions. Why the hell’d you think I was so rough on that punk who had you working on the corner when I found out what happened to your mom?”
Quentin swilled from his bottle, shrugging. “Guess it didn’t make much of a difference in the end. The alternate to joining NEST would’ve probably been worse. Besides, I guess I get a couple benefits out of it. The pay’s pretty good for what it is and it saves a lot of legal legwork.”
“Like weapon permits?” Cass snorted with amusement. “I’m almost jealous. Remember when Dwight tried getting that StG Fourty-Four grandfathered in whilst searching through his old man’s attic?” It’d been a while, but Quentin vaguely remembered Cass’ old partner who’d often stopped by and headed to the range with him for some downtime every other week. “Yeah, a real shitshow,” he chuckled “How’s he doing, by the way?”
“Still working at the academy as a training officer. Actually, we’re meeting up at the range next weekend to pit his P08 against my C96 to try and end our career-long argument over which is better.” Both of them chuckled at that one. “Shit, when’s the last time we spoke like this? Just a good, long conversation, man-to-man. I just wish your brother was here, too. I know you and Reed have your differences but he's still your family-”
Quentin was quick to cut him off. “I've tried enough times to settle shit with him yet he's always got that judgemental tone. Look, Cass - I've always been grateful for when you took us in. I know it wasn't easy - but he was too young to understand that I was the one who practically raised him whilst Mom spent her last days in and out of consciousness. I'm the one who made sure he was fed and clothed whilst half our money was blown on booze. I at least brought something to the table. It’s convenient for him to act self-righteous when he’s never had to deal with any of that shit-”
It was Cass’ turn to cut in. “That’s not true. You know he means well, even if he doesn’t always show it. But... yeah, you’re right. He never had to deal with that and I’m grateful that he was too young to remember any of it now. No kid should have to go through that shit, nevermind hold the weight of it above his head like you did.” He finished up his coke and left the empty bottle and the table as he drove his palms into his knees to stand up. “Look, I’ve gotta head back out soon but think on what I said.” As he approached the exit, he arched an eyebrow. “I assume you’ve seen the news - or checked the report - about that little ‘incident’ on the beach?” Quentin was no fool. “Yeah.” Cass nodded. “Just remember that Reed has things on his own plate, too. Don’t forget that and don’t forget us, either.” With that, he bid his nephew farewell and headed back out into the night.
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