▻ [The Moose is Loose]
- Rumours of a moose-based metahuman on a rampage in the streets of Baybridge are gaining some weight as mysterious injuries consistent with antler goring and hoof trampling show up.
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@Tuujaimaa Shiori seems fine with me, you're good.
I'll update the cast list later, and maybe try to get some new peeps in the RP. idk
About bloody time.
“Everyone. Get your asses to the Bridge...”
Whilst the others had been making their way to the bridge, Iosif had been seated there the whole time, enjoying the (relative) comfort of working in his own space. Even when Drono had rested an arm back against his own seat, he'd not deigned to move - he had something to say, clearly, but Iosif figured he could hear it well enough when the drell was right behind him, somber tone and all. He looked worse for wear than usual, that much was clear - none of the jovial, sardonic demeanour he'd seen before. It was funny, really - this was the first time he'd sell the one drell on their ship actually conveying himself as one would expect of his species.
True to thoughts, Drono pointed this out in his next couple of words, before going on to explain that his... condition, was worsening. It wasn't necessarily fear he picked up in the drell's tone, but there was that gloomy, almost accepting tone that he'd seen (or at least heard of) with the older, traditionalist generations of drell whom spent more time around the hanar.
The next line that he heard, however, did manage to get Iosif to pivot in his seat, shifting his gaze towards Drono with an inquisitive expression. “The salarian who did this to me, is named Yestin. He was my partner in crime, back during my smuggling days. He left me to die” It rang a personal chord with him, not least because of the fact that this salarian had also happened to be a treacherous partner. “After putting bullet in my spine. And when I asked him why, he dumped a nerve toxin into the wound.” Iosif's jaw tightened a little at that, a hint of disgust becoming clear on his face. When it came to heinous acts of betrayal, the slavic pilot saw little difference between selling a man off to the fucking batarians and poisoning him instead of finishing the job with a clean shot through the brain stem. Both equally deplorable, both equally deserving of retribution.
He certainly didn't blame Drono for wanting, no, promising to exact some form of violent revenge. In fact, for a second he pictured himself with both of his fingers tightened around the salarian's throat, or perhaps him venting a hole in the treacherous bastard's skull, or something equally violent but nontheless cathartic. It made no difference - for Drono, or Iosif, both salarians were far off somewhere else, out of reach for now.
In the meantime, Drono continued - explaining that his condition was dire and that perhaps the only people who were both able and willing to assist him were in danger at the hands of people who were probably associated with the drell's former partner. Not just an obstacle to Drono's understandable desire to stay alive, but also an obstacle to any hope he might've had at enacting revenge and here, even though Iosif had never particularly gotten to know the drell as well as he had with some of the other crew, he felt a personal need to help his colleague in this plight. so he might have had a shot at the same kind of retribution that he wished to enact upon his own treacheous salarian partner.
Of course, the others were quick to raise their concerns - and they were legitimate concerns. Eclipse weren't exactly the kind of people you wanted to be screwing around with, even if you were only dealing with just a few of their guys, the mercenary organisation didn't take too kindly to attacks on its resources - it didn't send out the best message, after all, if they were seen to be tolerating attacks on their people. Following Tanya and Tonka's comments on needing to be better prepared than their previous shitshow missions, Dex was on-point. Sometimes, it was easy for Iosif to forget that on top of being a competent pilot, his counterpart was arguably the most experienced at cloak-and-dagger type operations than the rest of them combined.
Haze had also been of similar consensus to Dex, also arguing in favour of a subtle, stealth-based approach. Iosif had to stifle an amused snort when Haze pitched the idea of using Vellios in his already fucked up state as part of their cover, if only because he wondered how the fatalistic turian would take the idea of being volunteered for such duty and whether he'd play ball with them on this one. In this case, there wouldn't be any room for mental breakdowns or relapses - Drono's life and the reputation (and future wellbeing) of their crew would be weighing on this. Then, much to the slav's surprise, Khosin had offered up some information in this matter as well - being a batarian, Iosif wasn't too surprised to hear he had some contacts with the Blue Suns, but if anything they might have had to say proved useful it would be worth the while. For perhaps the first time, Iosif gave the batarian a brief look that suggested something other than mild contempt or apathy.
Perhaps the first question that Iosif wanted to raise was just where he'd play a part in this. Given they were actively trying to avoid being flagged on Eclipse's shitlist, he'd probably have been better off going for something that would facilitate a subtle role, rather than the guns-blazing shuttle evac he'd conducted on their last mission. "Dex, if you're better off working remotely from the ship, I can live with that - I can run transport for this job. I'm not exactly the cloak-and-dagger type but I can keep my mouth shut if that's what this needs."
Whilst the others had been making their way to the bridge, Iosif had been seated there the whole time, enjoying the (relative) comfort of working in his own space. Even when Drono had rested an arm back against his own seat, he'd not deigned to move - he had something to say, clearly, but Iosif figured he could hear it well enough when the drell was right behind him, somber tone and all. He looked worse for wear than usual, that much was clear - none of the jovial, sardonic demeanour he'd seen before. It was funny, really - this was the first time he'd sell the one drell on their ship actually conveying himself as one would expect of his species.
True to thoughts, Drono pointed this out in his next couple of words, before going on to explain that his... condition, was worsening. It wasn't necessarily fear he picked up in the drell's tone, but there was that gloomy, almost accepting tone that he'd seen (or at least heard of) with the older, traditionalist generations of drell whom spent more time around the hanar.
The next line that he heard, however, did manage to get Iosif to pivot in his seat, shifting his gaze towards Drono with an inquisitive expression. “The salarian who did this to me, is named Yestin. He was my partner in crime, back during my smuggling days. He left me to die” It rang a personal chord with him, not least because of the fact that this salarian had also happened to be a treacherous partner. “After putting bullet in my spine. And when I asked him why, he dumped a nerve toxin into the wound.” Iosif's jaw tightened a little at that, a hint of disgust becoming clear on his face. When it came to heinous acts of betrayal, the slavic pilot saw little difference between selling a man off to the fucking batarians and poisoning him instead of finishing the job with a clean shot through the brain stem. Both equally deplorable, both equally deserving of retribution.
He certainly didn't blame Drono for wanting, no, promising to exact some form of violent revenge. In fact, for a second he pictured himself with both of his fingers tightened around the salarian's throat, or perhaps him venting a hole in the treacherous bastard's skull, or something equally violent but nontheless cathartic. It made no difference - for Drono, or Iosif, both salarians were far off somewhere else, out of reach for now.
In the meantime, Drono continued - explaining that his condition was dire and that perhaps the only people who were both able and willing to assist him were in danger at the hands of people who were probably associated with the drell's former partner. Not just an obstacle to Drono's understandable desire to stay alive, but also an obstacle to any hope he might've had at enacting revenge and here, even though Iosif had never particularly gotten to know the drell as well as he had with some of the other crew, he felt a personal need to help his colleague in this plight. so he might have had a shot at the same kind of retribution that he wished to enact upon his own treacheous salarian partner.
Of course, the others were quick to raise their concerns - and they were legitimate concerns. Eclipse weren't exactly the kind of people you wanted to be screwing around with, even if you were only dealing with just a few of their guys, the mercenary organisation didn't take too kindly to attacks on its resources - it didn't send out the best message, after all, if they were seen to be tolerating attacks on their people. Following Tanya and Tonka's comments on needing to be better prepared than their previous shitshow missions, Dex was on-point. Sometimes, it was easy for Iosif to forget that on top of being a competent pilot, his counterpart was arguably the most experienced at cloak-and-dagger type operations than the rest of them combined.
Haze had also been of similar consensus to Dex, also arguing in favour of a subtle, stealth-based approach. Iosif had to stifle an amused snort when Haze pitched the idea of using Vellios in his already fucked up state as part of their cover, if only because he wondered how the fatalistic turian would take the idea of being volunteered for such duty and whether he'd play ball with them on this one. In this case, there wouldn't be any room for mental breakdowns or relapses - Drono's life and the reputation (and future wellbeing) of their crew would be weighing on this. Then, much to the slav's surprise, Khosin had offered up some information in this matter as well - being a batarian, Iosif wasn't too surprised to hear he had some contacts with the Blue Suns, but if anything they might have had to say proved useful it would be worth the while. For perhaps the first time, Iosif gave the batarian a brief look that suggested something other than mild contempt or apathy.
Perhaps the first question that Iosif wanted to raise was just where he'd play a part in this. Given they were actively trying to avoid being flagged on Eclipse's shitlist, he'd probably have been better off going for something that would facilitate a subtle role, rather than the guns-blazing shuttle evac he'd conducted on their last mission. "Dex, if you're better off working remotely from the ship, I can live with that - I can run transport for this job. I'm not exactly the cloak-and-dagger type but I can keep my mouth shut if that's what this needs."
Regal Square, Prince-Edfield_Reed couldn't help but fire off a retort at Meifeng's amused jeering, "Yeah, sure - but the American taxpayer doesn't pay us to stand around and rehearse our lines, we leave that to the politicians, remember?" However, by the time he'd finished that last remark, the RAVEN was already outside the range of coherent hearing. She wasn't wrong, though. Granted, he couldn't help but crack a wry grin at Meifeng's commentary on his oratory skills, but it was true - he felt that he'd probably only just got through it. With the time he'd spent fawning over what he'd say at the rally, in hindsight he felt it was something of a shame that he didn't spend it on something more productive.
Still, he'd tried - and perhaps there were a few people in the crowd who were actually cheering for legitimate reasons rather than just for the sake of it.
Now on his mind, much to his own shame, was something more base in nature - the various food stalls situated outside the hall. Even in here, Reed swore that he could pick up just a slight aroma from something just around the corner and were it not for the fact that he was expected to remain in the hall that RAVEN had hired out for the event, he would've probably given into the the temptation to head out and help himself to a portion. Furthermore, he was now paying dearly for having gone into work on a light breakfast and later skipping lunch in order to prepare for the rally. His only hope now was that he could rope someone into picking something up for him before the stalls ran dry.
Where was Quentin when he needed him?
DOVE/RAVEN Joint Headquarters, White Coast_After a journey across the Atlantic, then what felt like a trip of equal length across the United States, the last thing that Frank had wanted to do was spend the next hour or so seated in the reception area of the DOVE/RAVEN HQ Building, his baggage leant against
the wall beside him. Aside from getting to witness a brief argument between an athletic-figured gentleman and a receptionist (which was subsequently defused by a dark-haired asian in RAVEN garb) there wasn't much he could do, though to his slight relief, one of the other receptionists on-duty had taken pity on the sight of the Briton's welling boredom and passed a few copies of the local newspapers his way, giving him something to read through as he awaited news of what would next be done with him. At the least, it gave him a chance to get a rough idea of anything noteworthy going on in the city - and what did catch his eye were a few references to some new high on the streets, "Happiness" or something like that. He couldn't help but feel a strange sense of deja vu from about a decade and a half ago in the UK when the legal highs (derived from a mixture of 'plant fertilisers' and other ingredients of obscure legal status) craze hit the media and sparked off a frenzy in the tabloids.
Not like there were any similarities between the two.
Eventually, Frank's reading session was interrupted by another DOVE employee - an agent, albeit one with a desk job by the looks of his office garb. "I believe you wanted to speak with me, Mr. Marshall?"
"So, Agent..." Frank began, leaning forward to get a view of the man's ID badge.
"Agent Gardiner, do you have a rough idea of when I'll be getting to see someone? If you don't mind me saying, I've come a long way and I'd rather get a chance to speak with the leadership before the jet lag sinks in."
"I understand, really, but a slight complication hascome up," Gardiner began, albeit a little uncomfortably, "You've arrived slightly earlier than we expected, Mr. Marshall - and I'm afraid Director Taylor is currently at the rally in Prince-Edfield, along with Deborah Javaunt."
"Rally?" Frank raised an eyebrow, before recalling the numerous news articles he'd filtered through which had made reference to said rally. Then, after a moment, came an "Oh."
"I see, well.. in that case, I suppose I'm probably not going to get a real chance to sit down with the Director until tomorrow then, right?"
"I can't say for certain, but the chance is that you'll be more likely to have an official brief tomorrow or the day after." At least the agent was honest, Frankhad to give him that, but still. Americans, he almost felt himself monologuing, before realising he was being a little hypocritcal in his observation - sitting around and waiting in queues was, after all, a favourite British pass time, even in this era of metahumans and societal unrest.
Of course, the grim thoughts on the news that he wouldn't be getting an audience with any form of authority today must've set on his face, judging by the hasty response from Gardiner. "I've spoken with my supervisor, we have had some accomodation set aside for yourself, Mr. Marshall, it's an apartment in the Oakdell Harbour district, already furnished - you won't need to concern yourself about any expenses in that respect. Likewise for groceries, we actually had it stocked with the basics this morning - and I'm aware that there's a store close by or even a restaurant if that's your preference."
That was good to hear, at least - no point spending money on some grotty little hotel or sleeping in an office. He definitely liked the idea of a restaurant close by - even after the hot dog at the airport, he was hungry for a little more sustenance. "If you don't mind me asking, what kind of place is it?"
"It's a chinese buffet, I know a friend who went there a few weeks ago and he said it was good - maybe you might want to stop by?"
Maybe indeed, I did fancy a Chinese, Frank thought, a thin smile forming upon his lips.
Director's Office, DOVE/RAVEN Joint Headquarters, White Coast_"... Yeah? Next Saturday? Sure, next Saturday - we'll talk more then. Thanks, bye."
Reed Taylor sucked in a breath of fresh air as he set the phone back down on his desk. Yet another matter of minor importance to address another time.
Nowadays, that was a significant chunk of his job, yet all the same an important one given it pertained to his role as Director over the local branch of DOVE. Meetings, discussions, administrative work, legal matters, etc. After his appointment to the role of Director, he'd made a point to make a regular acquaintance with the BPD, so as to try and keep staff on both sides aware of any issues ongoing in the city that they might stumble across in their work, metahuman-related or otherwise. Then, of course, was the matter of the MISW agent who'd be joining their ranks as part of the foreign exchange program being spearheaded by the Western Nations, a man by the name of Francis Marshall if memory recalled. Judging by the report he'd read of the man, he hoped the British agent would prove helpful enough, but with other matters on his mind Reed couldn't help but wonder how smoothly things would transition.
Whatever way he looked at things, he sometimes felt his ability to multitask stretched to the limit.
At one point he recalled that Javaunt had recommended he re-assign one of the DOVEs on desk work to function as his Personal Assistant, but somehow he found the idea of pulling a valuable pair of hands off the office floor for the sake of his own convenience a little too much to bear, particularly if he could still manage just about. That, and the notion made him feel a man a decade older than what he actually was. Which, as it happened brought him onto his next musing on his list of woes - all too often he'd heard the same comments from detractors, that he was still young and inexperienced for his role. Part of him couldn't help but concede they were right, in some form - at thirty-six years of age, he stood as a very senior figure in metahuman regulation working around the largest metahuman population on the West Coast.
Sometimes he missed his days as an investigator, doing both the field and paper work alike - but there was a bigger picture to it all, in the end. Javaunt had chosen him three years ago and he had no intentions of letting the Chairwoman down, not after everything that DOVE had worked for these last ten years.
Thoughts briefly drifted to the old man, if only for a second and at that, Reed glanced over the desk and couldn't help but crack a thin smile at the Terminator statuette standing vigil at one side of his desk, brandishing an M134 minigun. "What would you do, Arnie?" He mumbled to himself, before hearing a faux-Austrian accent inside his head. Terminate them all. Certainly not the best piece of advice, he decided - though seeing the one of old man's favourite shelf-pieces gave him a brief moment of piece before the realities of management brought themselves back to bear on him.
Of course, the old man never quite had to deal with something like this. Cass was a senior figure in the VPD, respected well enough, but even he'd never had to deal with desk work like this.
Still, he thought, the old man would've been proud.
Realizing that he was distracting himself, he cleared his throat and turned back towards the workstation on his desk. Today would be a long day, with much to do - this speech of his at the rally being just a single part of it.
With a brief, fleeting sigh, Director Taylor set himself back to work.
Waterbridge Airport, Roseview_After two consecutive flights, Frank couldn't help but feel an aching sensation building in his legs after what must've been almost a dozen hours' worth of sitting and standing still without any significant degree of movement. He'd spent most of both flights keeping to himself, erecting a mental barrier between himself and the other passengers and their varying thoughts and emotional states - the last thing he wanted was to be picking up on the stress and unseen terrors of some eight year old girl on her first flight. Once they'd hit solid ground, however, he was glad to be off the plane because, as he would admit, he wasn't exactly a fan of flight either. It was funny, come to think of it - despite all the training and experience with what was once one of the most tightly-run metahuman agencies operating in the West, even he found himself balking at the venture across the Atlantic.
Then again, when one considered the dangerous times they lived in, maybe his reservations hadn't been unfounded.
At any rate, he had brushed through the check-out with relative ease, though picking up his luggage (a suitcase and backpack containing the few belongings he'd figured he'd need) had been something of a headache after a brief dispute with a Chinese tourist over which suitcase was his. Frank, admittedly, had perhaps made an ethical faux-pas by using his ability to mentally subdue the irate tourist with a projection of some calming thoughts, but given how quickly he wanted to be out of the airport and into the city, he decided he could live with that particular dalliance when it was weidged against the many others he'd committed in the name of Her Majesty and the MISW.
On his way out of the terminal, he balanced a hot dog he'd hastily purchased from a vendor stall in one hand whilst the other hauled along with him his suitcase, though by the time he'd hit the exit point he'd already devoured the entire thing, such was his hunger. Then, for about a second he wondered just how he'd go about hailing a taxi, at least until he realised that not too far from the entrance to the airport were a fleet of them parked up, ready and waiting for new customers. Guess I won't need to waste my time with an Uber. Lugging his suitcase and backpack along with him, he quickly caught an asian man in what was probably his late-thirties finishing off a vaping session whilst leant back against a car. Coming into range, he quickly raised his proposition to what he assumed was the driver.
"Eh, excuse me, are you booked up?"
"No, I'm free," The driver tilted his head downwards, stuffing the vape-tube back into his pocket as his gaze turned towards Frank's suitcase, "Want a hand with that?"
"Yeah, please." Frank quickly nodded, relinquishing the greatest of his baggage to the driver who quickly lugged it into the trunk of his cab. The backpack he set on his lap after climbing into one of the rear passenger seats, the driver soon joining him afterwards, "Where to?"
"Uhrm, the DOVE-RAVEN Headquarters site, please - would prefer if we avoided the scenic route and just got straight to it."
"Sure thing." Instinct made his gut clench for just a moment as the driver pulled out onto the right side of the road, before he realised that, among the many differences between Britain and the US (aside from about four thousand miles of Atlantic Ocean) this would be yet another he'd be getting used to.
Still, it couldn't be that bad, he supposed - the weather in this particular state wasn't too different from back home and the food would be cheap and varied enough. He looked forward to the notion of trying one of the local Chinese restaurants or takeaways, at least that would be a comfort staying with him on this venture.
And then, as they passed through the varying districts of the city limits, Frank couldn't help but let his thoughts drift back towards home.
Since he'd set foot on that first plane from Heathrow, part of him wondered whether he'd made the right call, volunteering for this post and leaving the very few people he knew behind to clean up the ongoing mess, but with the situation as it was back home he figured there wasn't much else he could have done if he had stayed. Mass rioting and protests still raged on in London, Glasgow, Manchester and even places like Sheffield that were very close to home, some which he'd seen for himself and had been on the receiving end. Not to mention the fact their government had been puppeteered by these Founding Family types, along with the same organisation that he'd come to regard as the place where he belonged.
He had to face facts - the MISW was a shell, right now. Headquarters had been wrecked in the bombing, a good chunk of their administrative staff killed in the process along with a few of their field agents, the much-vaunted Grayson Williams included. And the new figures in government were regarding them with almost as much scrutiny as the public, if not moreso. The way they saw it, the 'old' MISW was a relic of the Cold War, the 'new' one would be a lot different, nowhere near as heavy-handed as before and a 'kinder' organisation overall. Frank had to agree, they were right, but still... old habits died hard, he supposed. And at this point people back home were still restructuring things, still figuring out how to handle this new threat from the so-called 'BASILISK' terrorist group which had claimed responsibility for the bombing of their HQ.
Maybe some time away could've done Frank some good, he hoped, and give him a chance to learn from the Americans whilst here and bring something useful back home. He owed his people that much, at least, and given the unseen blood that had stained their hands a dozen times over it would be some measure of atonement. Once upon a time, he'd been turned onto what he thought was the right track by the MISW - now was his turn to try and do the same for the organisation whilst it was in its weakened state.
Eventually he took another glance out the window and, judging by the brief research he'd undertaken in the weeks before his journey across the pond, he suspected he was close to his destination. After all, the DOVE/RAVEN Headquarters Building was a difficult sight to miss, and was larger by a wide margin than the MISW Offices back home. Americans always have had a thing for going big, he supposed.
Soon, the car pulled up in the visitor parking area and the driver told Frank the fee, to which the Briton fished a wad of dollar bills out to the exact sum he'd asked. It was only then that he realised the cab driver was half-expectantly waiting for him to, if that sliver of emotion bleeding into his thoughts was anything to go by - yet another US custom he'd be getting used to. Without a grumble, he fished a few extra dollars out and slapped them into the driver's palm. "Keep the change, and thanks for the lift."
Welcome to the Metahuman Scene: A free online discussion board concerning discussion on Metahumans,
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Boards ➤ Announcement
➤ Topic: Metahuman Scene Closed Indefinitely by AdamAugust (ADMIN)
Posted on August 18th, 2024:
After a large-scale hack on the website that leaked the IP addresses and information of many of our members; it has been decided that the Metahuman Scene will be closed until further notice. This is not buckling to the demands and threats of anti-Metahuman terrorists. This is a decision the entire administrative staff made to protect members of the site after it became blatantly obvious that the hack lead to many members being harassed, brutally attacked, or even killed. We agreed that it'd be safe if we locked the thread before any more attacks happen. However, we are not deleting any discussions, and the threads before the board-wide lock are still available for viewing.
Someday we'll open the site again, when the climate calms itself down.
Page 1.
Boards ➤ Profiles ➤ Green_Bird (Verified Dove)
Gender: ♀
Posts: 4802
Join Date: September 14th, 2019
Location: Baybridge, Washington.
Age: 30
Birth-Date: August 3th, 1995.
Last Visit: October 23rd, 2022
Boards ➤ Metahuman Events ➤ Baybridge
➤ Topic: So, just what happened in Baybridge? by Dead_Editor (ADMIN)
Posted On: November 3rd, 2022.
So, apparently there was a gigantic shitstorm in Baybridge. Starting with the so called "Black Hound" and ending with a whole section of the city needing repairs. RAVEN & DOVE are being really hush about it. Can we get some discussion about this? There's so much that we don't know.
And let's keep the conspiracy theories to a minimum, guys. I want facts, not your crazy theories..
➤ Andro
Posted on: November 3rd, 2022.
This video is a start:The people responsible for everything in Baybridge are the Founding Family. A cult of lunatics. I saw this video with my own two eyes while watching Spongebob with my kids. After that, they knocked out the power for weeks... and I'll never forget them.
➤ Judochick
Posted on: November 3rd, 2022.
I'm sorry, but what kind of rock have you been living under @Dead_Editor? This was all over the news!
➤ Dead_Editor
Posted on: November 3rd, 2022.
Sorry, but I was visiting my family in Australia, and when I get back, the whole city's in flames. I had to jump through hoops just to get back into the country!
I just want to figure out what the hell happened, because this is way bigger than Prague.
➤ AegisCommander
Posted on: November 3rd, 2022.
@Andro: They're more than just being a cult of lunatics. As it turns out; they have hands in almost everything! Politics, military, corporations, science, everything. They're like a world controlling conspiracy!
➤ Judochick
Posted on: November 3rd, 2022.
@Deadeditor: That's understandable, I'm sorry.
But, before you jump the gun on @AegisCommander; he's right.
It's turning out that this Founding Family controlled almost everything, and I'm not exaggerating. If you want proof, just google them.
➤ Iron_Cross
Posted on: November 3rd, 2022.
Most disturbingly of all, this Family had an army of slaves locked up in their headquarters. Men and women taken from all over the world, put to work in their tower. It's so messy that even the UN had to get involved to help sorts things out.
[Link to Article]
➤ Exiled
Posted on: November 3rd, 2022.
A friend of mine was one of those people... She went missing like five years ago, and RAVEN found her there. In a far better state than she was when she went missing, yeah, but she had no idea of what even happened. In fact, she had no idea that five years even passed. So, maybe the Family was employing some kind of Cerebral ability.
➤ Dead_Editor
Posted on: November 3rd, 2022.
@Exiled: We're veering into conspiracy theory territory here, keep it to yourself.
➤ [BANNED USER]
Posted on: November 3rd, 2022.
you goys are alright, dont come into town tomorrow
Page 1-108
Boards ➤ Profiles ➤ Papersister_07
Gender: ♀
Posts: 15074
Join Date: February 3rd, 2022
Location: Baybridge, Washington.
Age: 21.
Birth-Date: January 5th, 2004.
Last Visit: March 21st, 2025.
➤ Registration Information ➤ Delete Account ➤ Confirmation ➤ Yes.
Oakdell Harbor, White Coast_Wendy played around on her phone, while lying down on the sofa of the RV. Mostly to distract herself from the welling grief that was associated with this city. She sighed as she deleted her account from one of her favorite forums! But, that place wasn't what it used to be, and it was for the best that Wendy removed her mark from there.
Then again, the world wasn't what it used to be.
"Yo, Wen," Jessica's voice snapped her out of her reverie. Her eyes were diverted away from her phone, to the red-haired woman (who was approaching her thirties, in fact). She was muscular, and just had a freckled face that inspired Wendy. She was the one driving the RV they were staying in, but kept her eyes on the road. "Sure you're ready to go back? You can stay with me and my pops in Texas if you need more time."
Wendy looked over to the research notes on the table across from herself.
"I'm sure." She said. "There's something I have to get to the bottom of in Baybridge."
"That missing scientist?" Jessica asked.
Wendy looked over to the research notes on the table across from herself, with "SEAN ROSIER'S NOTES" on the cover of the book.
"Yes, it all leads back to Baybridge," Wendy said. "I'm sorry, but I want to get to the bottom of it."
"Nah, it's cool!" Jessica said with a smile. "I should be the one apologizing... Wish I could help you, but me and Kai still got a lot more adventure ahead of us!"
"I understand... in fact, I shouldn't let my own ambitions hold you up from following yours," Wendy cheekily half smiled.
"But.... what about Rowan?" Jessica asked in a hushed tone. "What does he think?"
"What-what... someone want me?" A voice groggily called out from the back of the RV.
"Rowan, my maaaan," Jessica said. "What I was asking was if you were gonna stick with us, or go with Wendy?"
"Wait-" There came a heavy thud, followed by a brief grunt, before the sole male occupant of the RV emerged from the compartment at the back, a shirt having been hastily pulled on other his head during their journey. "Wen', so you're really going? I mean, I know you talked about it, but what with all that shit..." He trailed off for a moment as he made his way towards the front, placing his palms against the walls of the interior to steady himself, eventually plopping himself down in the sofa adjacent to Wendy's position. "You're serious about this, then?" He asked, idly rubbing at the mess of coarse hair along his jaw.
"Yeah... I want to look for something," Wendy said. "And, Kumiko says that she knows people that will help me find it."
"Yeah?" Rowan raised an eyebrow at that one, "Didn't know you'd been talking lately."
"We talk all the time," Wendy said with a smile, as she stood up. She grabbed the research papers, and walked over to Rowan. "But, do you remember our talk about that scientist? Sean Rosier?"
"Sean Rosier... Sean Rosier... just remind me, again."
She held up the research notes for Rowan to see.
"This? Remember? I got this from the Family's base... he's a brilliant scientist that was on the verge of discovering something amazing...." Wendy trailed off, before she said. "Dimensional travel."
She shook her head.
"But, then he disappeared, and the last of trace of him ends in Baybridge."
"Yeah, yeah - got you now," Rowan finally clicked, his groggy demeanour fading away. "And you want to find out what happened with this guy, right?"
"Yes, and possibly continue his work." Wendy said, as she turned to her blond-haired friend. "You don't have to come along with me... I can do this with Kumiko helping me."
"I'd rather go with you," Rowan said, before turning his gaze towards Jess and Kai, "No offence to you guys, or anything. It's been great here, the best couple years I've had, y'know? But if Wendy wants to figure this out, I'm in on it too."
Jessica smiled. "I hear ya' loud and clear, and I'd like to say it's been a real pleasure having the two of you on board."
Wendy was honestly flattered when Rowan said that... and a little flustered. Her face went red, she smiled. "And I wouldn't have anyone else by my side."
She got a similar response from him as he shuffled into thr back of the RV yet again, undoubtedly to collect the few belongings he had with him and pack them into his bag.
They had long crossed the Bravewater Bridg, and Jessica merely followed the GPS to the location that Wendy had given her. She raised an eyebrow as they approached a mansion on the beach front.
"You have arrived." The GPS said, and Jessica came to a stop in front the building. She looked behind herself.
"Well... looks like this is goodbye... damn..." Jessica somberly said, "I thought I was ready for this, but it's so hard to say goodbye, ain't it?" She said.
Having emerged yet again with his possessions, Rowan was the first to step towards two of the three people who he'd come to know as not just friends, but family. Slugging an arm each around Jess and Kai's shoulders, the once scrawny kid pulled them into a fraternal embrace, before whispering something to them with a wry grin.
"You better not give us a fake address, I don't think Wen' would appreciate knocking on the wrong Texan's door."
"Who do you think I am?" Jess said with a smile. "A bad driver? I get you to yer' destination!"
Wendy smiled at the scene.
"Well, I hate to hold ya' up, me and Kai have a lot more journey ahead of us," Jess said, as she tipped her hat.
"... And so do we." The door on the side opened, and Wendy loudly gulped as she mustered the courage to step off. Only because she didn't want this to ever end.
After everyone said their goodbyes, both Wendy and Rowan got off the RV that was a great part of their lives, and it slowly drove away. Wendy could just see the sorrow in Jess' eyes, but she was going to keep in touch with them. And that was a promise.
For now, the two young adults looked up at the mansion. Kumiko told them to come here if they needed help, and Wendy damn well was going to get it. But, the first obstacle was the large gates before them. She wondered if could just have Rowan open it, when the gates unlocked themselves and were pulled open. She was confused, until she saw a woman walk up. A tall, Asian woman, wearing jeans, and a dark-red blouse. Age was certainly setting into the older woman, as even Wendy could spot the wrinkles.
"... Wen!" Kumiko shouted as she ran over, and embraced her daughter. "It's been a helluva long time since I seen ya'... well, in person, but you know!"
"Same!" Wendy said.
"And you Rowan," Kumiko said as she let go of Wendy, "You're a handsome young man, now." She smiled.
"Uh... thanks.." Rowan said, caught off guard by the remark.
"Well, what are the two of ya' waitin' for?" Kumiko said as she practically yanked the two of them towards the entrance. "Come on in!"
"Wai-" Before Wendy knew it, they were through the front doors, and Kumiko whipped around to kick both of them shut. She let out a sigh.
"Phew..." Kumiko trailed off as she leaned up against the door. "Sorry about that, kids." She chuckled for a moment. "We have a looooot of enemies that are probably keeping an eye on all our movements, so it was for the best that we get inside, and in cover, fast as possible."
"I understand." Wendy said, giving Kumiko a quick nod.
"So, uh..." Kumiko pointed at Rowan, "Did you brief him on our little deal? Because if not, that was a real dick move, Wen. Real dick move."
That earned her a strange look from her fellow traveler, "What am I missing?"
"Diiiiiiiiick move." Kumiko almost shouted.
"Well, Rowan..." Wendy said, "Remember when I said 'I knew people who could help us'?"
He raised an eyebrow at that, "Oh, right - you said your mom could help?"
"Well, not quite..." Wendy said, "My mom works for this organization that helped bring down the Founding Family."
"... The Philosophers," Kumiko said. "They call themselves a benevolent group of scientists..."
She narrowed her eyes at Rowan for a moment.
"... Take that with a grain of salt."
"And, they're going to help us piece together the puzzle that is Sean Rosier," Wendy explained.
"... Well, hate to get your hopes up..." Kumiko sighed. "But, they're kind of busy... and - surprise - I'm the only field agent willing to help!"
Wendy sighed.
"... That's fine."
"Well, provided that you find it, I'm sure someone in here will gladly help you make use of it."
"It's not like we haven't done some breaking-in before..." Rowan said to Wendy with a hushed tone.
Wendy snickered a bit, as she said, "Yeeeeeah."
"But, I mean, this is the first time I seen the two of ya' in years," Kumiko hopped off the wall, almost surprised they were so formal. "Relaaaaax, let's have a little bit of fun before we go off on some adventure. Liiiiiike...." She remembered something. "There's a DOVE rally today... probably gonna end up being lame, but they're at least offering free food."
"I don't know..." Wendy trailed off, as she looked at Rowan. Given that the two of them were runaways in the eyes of DOVE, Wendy wasn't in a rush to change that. "What do you think, Rowan?" Wendy asked.
"Uh, I dunno... you really think they'll know it's us?" Rowan shrugged, shifting his gaze towards Kumiko for a second, "It's been three years, Wen' - we keep our heads down, we could be good. Worst case, we have to run - can't be too hard, right?"
"I guess..." Wendy said, still unsure. "Alright, we're going to go."
"Yaaaaaay!" Kumiko said, "We'll discuss this boring Philosopher stuff later."
She gestured down the hall.
"We'll take my car, let's go!" Kumiko said.
I'm working on my last CS and will try to get something posted by Tuesday, I'm with family at the weekend so don't get much of a chance to write.
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