Claire was still as solemn as before, very vigilantly watching her surroundings and what was happening around her. There wasn't much for her to do other than that in all honesty, she wasn't exactly fond of social interaction, although that might've been partly to be blamed on her isolated childhood. Either ways, nothing much has really changed. Anything of real significance was a particularly old car which had parked itself for a while, just in time for a blonde woman to exit from it with a gun handed to her. It felt like she took more note of the vehicle though, as it looked like a particularly interesting piece of antique, but she pushed that out of her mind as fast as the car sped off.
It was around this time when the gentleman who had been talking to Wilson before, who's list of aliases Claire already had in her memory, came over to look at her directly and ask her a somewhat peculiar question, of which she had really never had to answer before. Claire, with her arms still crossed, brought some of her attention away from her environment and returned the look without any sort of emotions showing whatsoever, still keeping her state of indifference, as she went on to reply after a short pause.
"Longer than most would like to...", she spoke in an assertive, but not harsh, tone. With that in mind, she allowed her mind to wander for just a short amount of time, pondering over the question as she thought back to days long forgotten, but of which she remembered every single detail excruciatingly well...
The date was January 29th, 2131. When did the exact moment she was recalling occur? 19:47:21. She had been staring at a large set of television screens in the dark(the screens being the only thing keeping the room from turning pitch black), sitting in a chair with her arms very calmly resting on the fabric of the armchairs. Specifically, she had been observing a certain feed of a location not far from where she currently was.
Inside a moderately sized and very simply decorated room, a huge round table sat directly in the middle, with a group of 7 men and 3 women sitting around it, most of them having particularly stressed and unhappy expressions. Some of them kept turning their heads to a clock attached to a nearby wall, hoping that by doing so perhaps time could speed up and this horrible meeting could've been over with. After a minute of silence, what looked like the leader of the group stood up, placing both of his hands on the wooden table very sternly before speaking.
"Alright. Let's get this over with. We're here to discuss the current problems the group is currently facing. We need a solution folks, before this thing explodes.", this was followed once again by practically nothing but a few coughs, before he continued again.
"May I remind you, that if we don't do anything, the mega-corporations will be all over us. We'll lose everything. Come on. Think...", he then started to walk back and forth, quietly pondering over the situation to himself before he stood still, sighed, and continued the conversation.
"Okay... let's look at this once again. This organisation has been crumbling apart for quiet a while now. People are going their separate ways, the faction very insidiously having split up into different equally malicious groups and sections, looking to different people for leadership. We've already had a huge conflict the other day, that could've ended up in a damn civil war! Tensions are high, and we need to find a way to defuse this right now. We're on a damn ticking time bomb here.", discussion seemed to stir among the numerous people in the room, but none of them really ever offering their ideas. The head of the council coughed to hush everyone up, before sharing his thoughts.
"From the way I see it... we have no choice but to integrate Johnson, Bryan, and Barnes into the council.", at this point a lot more talking erupted in the group, but the main speaker resumed his show of opinion after everyone was silenced by the raising of his hand.
"Look, I know it's difficult and risky. It's equivalent to cutting off a random wire in a bomb while being blindfolded. But we have no other options. The best we can hope for is that they join without any sort of conflicting interests, and as such, the group becomes united once again under the three of them working together... After that, as for the remaining minor coalitions.... Well, we'll cross that bridge when we get there. Terry, please call the three of them here. Tell them it's urgent.", a brown haired man nodded and stood up, reaching to the door noticeably slower than average, before finally reaching it and pulling at the door knob several times, before eventually coming to a realisation.
"We're locked in!", just as he announced this, he suddenly began coughing very roughly, before blood could suddenly be seen being spat out from his mouth. Right as he collapsed onto the ground, and even before anyone had the chance to react, it seemed that everyone else in the room followed with the same symptoms, some of them being so horribly affected that they might as well have been strangled by phantoms. Holding onto their necks, grabbing onto the chairs and attempting to stabilise themselves, all of them ultimately ended up dead. Some were positioned in their chairs at uncomfortable angles caused by their final struggles, and as for the leader of the group, he collapsed onto the table, his hand merely grasping at a symbol at the centre of the table: a yellow sickle and hammer covering a red circle: an icon most commonly associated at the time with the Crimsons.
Claire, still breathing through her gas mask as composed as ever, observed the room of now deceased people. In her left hand held a device of sorts, which she had recently activated using the press of her thumb. Poisonous gas, bought off the black market for her own use. She paid a lot to make sure questions weren't asked, but it was well worth the money. It was odourless and had been pumped into the room through a secure ventilation line. They never stood a chance.
Laying behind her were 2 soldiers dressed in what looked like red armour, each of them with a throwing knife burrowed in their heads. Claire had just killed 12 people, and yet as she thought it over and over again, she didn't seem to feel any remorse or guilt whatsoever. Her eyes and expression were as unperturbed as ever. She didn't even need to morally justify what had just happened repeatedly in her head, or reassure herself that everything was going to be okay. It was just... irrelevant to her at this point.
Standing back up and tearing out her two blades out of the 2 dead men which surrounded her, she thought through her plans once again, knowing that the next order of business was to take a trip to the Crimson archives and remove whatever sort of recorded information there was about her.
Opening the exit's door, she then stepped out very quietly, pausing for a second to look back, before closing the door and leaving without a word.
Just as the memory ran through her head very clearly, she looked off into the distance, seemingly just watching and pondering over the light rain before returning back to what was currently at hand after just a few seconds. 'The past is in the past...' Seeing as she was already talking to someone, she decided to at least continue on with it for a while, considering that if what this Scion says is true, she's gonna be working with these various people as a team for quite a bit.
"I go by Claire... What about you?", this was said in a more apathetic voice, nothing practically given away during the short amount of time since the conversation first started.
While that had been happening, Tetra had been keeping to herself, quietly enjoying her own music that was currently playing through the wireless earbuds placed in her ears. If she had to describe it, it was definitely a very enjoyable upbeat tune, yet she started only by bobbing her head up and down at a steady speed, but it wasn't long before the song started to take a slightly heavier turn. A lot more noticeably cheerful aura surrounded her, Tetra simply smiling to herself as she began to move her head a lot more often than usual and her right feet slowly tapping to the beat, at a possibly erratic and random pace.
It was very easily one of her favourite pieces of electronic dance music(although her favourites comprised of an uncountable amount of music), which was basically a wide set of genres which had really started picking up speed around the 21st century. Although most people these days might be a bit too busy or even depressed to enjoy music, Tetra often found time for it, and was a huge enthusiast in the whole thing overall, despite how uncommon that might've been these days around the general population. As strange as things currently were(music wasn't as popular as they were back then with the gloom over everyone), not to mention the overall decay of genres overtime, Tetra managed to find her way to EDM somehow, and it stuck.
Often knowing exactly when and how each song she listened to ended, and still tapping to the rhythm, she noticed an aged car pull up, and a woman come out. Tetra didn't really note the part about the gun or anything, but seeing as she had nothing to do right now, maybe she'd go make a friend? On second thought, there was no maybe in that question. And on a third thought, it wasn't even a question anymore. Tapping the ear bud in her right ear with a tap of a finger(which quickly scanned the finger for a print), the current song playing stopped. Seeing the newcomer clear her throat loudly, Wilson and Tetra walked over, ready to introduce themselves to her. She would wait as patiently as she could for Wilson to introduce himself, before she'd take her turn and start talking.
((As a side note, great music Mafia.))
((EDIT: For anyone reading this, I've deleted Tetra's part of the conversation and her song. I'll post the conversation later, and as for music, I'm planning to start using music at a later point when it fits with the RP/what's currently happening.))
(( I just spent half an hour reading everything that has happened))
Jonas accepted Wilson's answer. It was better than nothing after all. He looked back and forth around the crowd, looking for somewhere to stand away from the others. Although Jonas may look like the outgoing type, he was really rather shy around strangers. He always got self-conscious. He turned and saw a woman leaning against the wall, seemingly lost in her own world of music. She was in the least concentrated area of the crowd,and she didn't seem like she would notice him, so he twisted his hat in his hands nervously and strode quickly over to where she was. He made sure not to stand to close, as that would suggest that he was interested in talking to her. He stood with his shoulders leaning against the warehouse, staring straight ahead, trying not to catch anyone's eye. As he stood there waiting, he wondered of what was to come. He mulled over this until the thought lost its luster. He asked his muse to review the interview questions he most likely be asked by the promotion committee.
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"The moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass,
it becomes a mysterious, awesome, incredibly magnificent world in itself"-Henry Miller
Adrien walked into the cafe, and sat down at a table in the corner of the room. Carefully resting his backpack on the ground, he removed his laptop and placed it on the table. As he shifted through various news sites, he noticed a small notification in the corner of his screen. He clicked it, opening his email to see who had contacted him. He quickly read the unusual message, before closing his laptop and picking up his bag as he started to walk to the door.
Today, August 12th, 2137
As Adrien strolled through Old Town with his hood on to protect his head from the rain, he constantly looks over his shoulder to make sure he isn't being followed, either by authorities or a local gang. He spotted the motley group of people outside the building from nearly a mile away as his eyes switched to Thermal Imaging. He blinked them back to their normal setting, and checked the time on his phone. "I'm running late," he muttered to himself as he began to pick up the pace.
Adrien approached the group in his usual form, figuring that anyone who could discover his personal email would be able to notice him disguising himself with skinflex. He looked between everyone present, switching his eyes to x-ray as he watched for whatever weapons they had. "Greetings, I am Faith. I hope I am not late," he told them cautiously.
((I'm really sorry guys. I know you've been waiting on me for a while now, but I ended up having to rewrite the ENTIRE APP. Go ahead and start without me, and I'll jump in when my app is done. Again, REALLY sorry about that.))
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"We must call for aid! Executor, bring out the Reavers! ... What? What do you mean we don't have reavers anymore? Then... send the Dragoons! ... Ugh, then what do you suggest? ... What's a Void Ray?!" -Tassadar, Savior of the Templar
((Oh. Well, if it makes you feel better, I'm already further along in the app than I was before.))
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"We must call for aid! Executor, bring out the Reavers! ... What? What do you mean we don't have reavers anymore? Then... send the Dragoons! ... Ugh, then what do you suggest? ... What's a Void Ray?!" -Tassadar, Savior of the Templar
The woman responded in a slightly forceful and confident tone before pausing just momentarily. This brief gave Dominic all he needed to know. The easiest things to read and the hardest things to cover up are the human eyes. The woman's eyes briefly flicked upwards and to the right before returning back to normal. She was remembering a moment, specifically something primarily visual. Dominic assumed that meant that she was remembering an event directly relating to the question. Dominic thought for a moment. You are by far the most qualified person here as far as I can see. You may have been doing this for a while, but it doesn't seem like it has been long enough. Dominic smiled contently, keeping a very close eye on every single facial feature. It wasn't hard to do, considering the Skinflex made his entire body feel abnormal. His smile was genuine and caring. Dominic made sure of that.
Then, a peculiar thing happened. It seemed the woman briefly lost interest and broke direct eye contact, briefly scanning the group for a moment. There was a look in her eyes that Dominic knew all too well... there was a look of dread. Dominic immediately felt sympathetic. It seemed obvious that everybody present had endured something horrible and were covering it up in their own way. It was probably because of these events that people had been chosen. Dominic had run his fair share of heists. He had become a wanted man. He had become a hunted man. Some might say, he had become a bad man.
The woman proceeded to introduce herself as Claire. Dominic had always liked that name. There was something so classic about it. Dominic had learned many different romantic languages over the past ten years and all of them shared similar words for purity. The name "Claire" had origins in romantic languages meaning purity or transparency. Dominic loved the irony of names like that. It was pretty obvious that this woman was far from pure or transparent.
Dominic, maintaining a genuine smile and a caring gaze, removing his sunglasses and placing them in his pocket. Dominic extended his hand to offer a handshake. "My name's Dominic. My friends call me Nick. It's very nice to meet you Claire." Dominic paused for a moment before saying, "I must give you props Claire, you are a very tough nut to crack. I hope you take pride in that."
Claire observed as the man introduced himself as Dominic, or Nick, as most of his friends would address him by. He'd extended his hand out to offer a handshake with a smile, and had paused for a short amount of time before speaking about her capability on hiding her emotions for just a while. She accepted his handshake with her right hand, only shaking it for a while just softly before placing both of her hands in the pockets of her jacket. At the same time, the woman nodded almost subtly to see that she addressed the comment, with a bit of an uncaring look in her eyes.
"I suppose so... although we all know most of us weren't always like this...", she replied in a bit of a modest tone, as she turned to watch the group once more. For just a moment, it seemed like such a huge variety of different personalities and people, but assuming if they were just as skilled at their skills as she was, most of them would've went through things that they would've been better off forgetting about. The same applied to her...
It was around 1 year ago. As much as Claire wanted to admit that she had gotten over it, and no matter how many times she reasoned with herself, the memory always came back to her in her darkest moments. She had been sitting at a white glass table, reading through dossiers and classified documents in order to pick out the best course of action for the Shadows' next move. While surrounded by stacks upon stacks of files filled with information, there was only one she had been dedicating most of her effort and concentration on. It was a newspaper, with a picture of a huge crater in one of the more isolated parts of Lynnhaven, surrounded by armed policemen and investigation officers everywhere.
The headlines read 'Shadows Terrorists' HQ Destroyed'. Even though it said that examination was currently undergoing to see if they picked up anything from the crime scene, Claire had known that they were simply wasting their time. Hex 3, in being caught in a sudden raid of her facility, blew everything up to oblivion, disintegrating every piece of evidence, hardware, information, and of course, she herself. Claire, in all of her very apathetic mood and attempts to subdue her emotions, had succumbed to grief. Even if it was a while, she couldn't help but feel depressed by what had happened, for hours on end just staring at pictures taking by authorities of the destroyed base.
Thoughts such as 'There's no point wasting more time on it.' and 'Thinking about it more wasn't going to change anything.' ran through her head, and even though Claire was often a very logical person who based everything she did on reason... this was just different. One of the only real friends she ever had in her life had sacrificed herself to protect the rest of the team... and she wouldn't even be able to be given a proper burial. Because there was nothing to bury but ashes.
In the end, she had to let a majority of it go. She couldn't let it consume her. Even so, Hex 3 often came up in her mind when she wasn't occupied, and despite having virtually thought about her as much as possible, it never really left her mind. It was one of those memories that she couldn't just push into the back of her brain, and label it as 'irrelevant'. Now that she thought of it, this might've played a small part in her coming out of retirement(after all Shadows operations were put on hold indefinitely) to robbing museums and banks related to mega-corporations. It was never really for herself. Most of the goods she stole were sold on the black market, and often donated to the unfortunate and people who had been backstabbed by the government. But in all honesty, she could've stayed retired for a long time, or excused herself as waiting for Hex 2 to return. The thing that really pushed her the most to do something with herself was the memory of Hex 3... it was one of the only things that had kept her going and working, as subconscious as the effect might've been.
With that short session of pondering, as she once again examined the surroundings and the people around her, she looked back at Dominic and nodded slightly once again, before leaning upon the wall of the warehouse again. After that, she suddenly didn't feel like talking anymore. It was clear that she wasn't ignoring Dominic, but it seemed like she had other things running through her mind at the moment. Claire simply watched the rain, and seemingly nothing else.
Victoria then noticed, the place started to fill with people by the minute "So is this all of us?" She asked raising her brow. She slipped her goggles to her neck and rubbed her head. She just stood there, watching everyone join up with this little group of...Odd... Individuals.
Out of the crowd of ten that was standing before the entrance of the building, one particularly tall man in a heavy black jacket voiced out a name that Iris hadn't heard in a while. Her attention was now spreaded towards the person that called her, focusing on removing any bad thoughts from her mind that might hinder her current social whereabout. "That's right." She said to the man firmly. "But you should really call me Iris instead of my... normal name." It was a provoking thought though, which name shall be considered normal or not was an unpleasant puzzle that would often bug her mind.
But she didn't need to worry much about it. Nobody has ever called her Irida in the past four years. This man in particular had a hold on her real credentials, stuff like the ID number that has been stripped off from her citizenship account which was the only remaining resource for digging out her name. Unless, of course, the man remembered her name from some TV broadcast, those that used to put the Orma family to the spotlight a decade and further ago.
The man standing in front of her, who introduced himself as Wilson, let out an aura of an inspirational feeling. It was almost as if this man was born to be a diplomat, someone whose each and every words could be trusted as each person's own. Iris shook herself clear of that feeling and tried harder to bear into consideration the purpose that she was here, and the fact that strange men and women had a hold on her long-forgotten identity.
"Nice to meet you." Iris replied, finally, as politely as she could. "Say, Wilson, wasn't it? Can you tell me why have you called me here?" Iris asked in a rational spike of curiosity. After all, the message that she had received was vague, to say at least, and there were also too many people here. Her point of view then changed towards the rest of the crew members who were standing among with her. They all seemed to be in a state of disarray as much as she was. Perhaps, none of them had gotten their replies from such questions yet, even after raising their considerations and questions on their own.
This door should better lead to something interesting, or else Iris would kick this case off and walk away as if she had never answered that call.
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" Because things are the way they are, things will not stay the way they are. " - Bertolt Brecht
The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
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"Right, sorry," Wilson replied, making a mental note in his head for the new nickname. A nagging feeling suddenly came to him. The woman in front of him looked like someone he'd seen before. There was something about a corporation in her bio as well... whatever. Wilson brushed it aside to answer her question. "Well, technically it wasn't me that sent for you. That was my boss. We'll meet him in a few minutes. As for why you're here, we're taking in recruits for an organization of ours. You might have noticed the people around you and figured that what we're doing isn't exactly legal. I can't reveal too much outside because of that. I realize we're standing in a place not many would want to be in, but it's better to be safe."
Another man walked up to the group, introducing himself as Faith. Wilson recalled the name from his bio, remembering him to be another hacker. "Excuse me," he said to Iris, walking over to Faith. "Hey, nice to meet you. My name is Wilson," he said as he offered his right hand. "You're not late. We'll be heading inside shortly."
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I apologize in advance if I don't post on an RP for a while; I'm still sorting things out.
((Sorry for the short post, I'm on my iPad tonight and can't be bothered to type on this stupid keyboard.))
Adrien shakes the man's hand, "I'm just glad this is not a setup... Or, atleast, not one created by the police. It is nice to meet someone that I can have a little faith in." He grins at his own joke as he releases Wilson's hand.
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Once Tetra had noticed that Wilson and the newcomer had gotten to know each other substantially(and thus the conversation ended), she quickly awoke from her state of curiously examining the people around her from afar. For just that short amount of time, she'd been daydreaming about random things and events that weren't really connected to each other, just before being jolted back into reality subconsciously. Brushing a bit of imaginary dust off her shoulder, as some people usually do, she then approached her a bit excitedly, and coughed just slightly, before finally introducing herself to Iris in a bit of a playful manner.
"Wazzup? Da name is Tetra; great to meetcha!", she said in a very clearly cheerful mood with a smirk, with both her hands fidgeting with each other behind her back, with nothing to really do as she tried to contain her energy. She detected this, and then quickly brought out one of her hands, both of which were covered in some weathered dark grey wool gloves, for the usual friendly handshake to correct the situation. Tetra kept a very genuine happy smile on, despite her one inactive hand behind her back, virtually unnoticed by her, wriggling just slightly to occupy itself.
She walked towards Wilson and looked at him, she let out a sigh "Can I... Run back to my workshop to grab something?" She asked in all seriousness. The colour of her eyes began to fade for some odd reason, whilst more people came.
Sure, it took us 15 minutes to find the place, but that tends to happen when you barely know your town. It seems like we never had left that coffee shop in nearly forever.
Anyway, we had found the building. But was more impressive was the array of people before it. What did he have in common with them? What skills did they have? Maybe this was some sort of business meeting? But...we aren't high up in our business..hmm....
Maybe it's your arm?
No, that hardly seems unique. Look at the rest of them. Some of them have cyberkinetic arms and legs. Well, not so much on the leg part, but neither did he.
Well, might as well introduce yourself.
True.
Ris walked towards the group, smiling to them like they were old friends. He added himself to the crowd, and waiting for the other three talking to Wilson to speak. His voice came out almost like that of an inquisitive child, asking an innocent question.
"Excuse me, sir, but you seem to be the leader here. What exactly is going on, and why where we called here?"
The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
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Wilson slightly smiled at the pun, and turned to face another recruit, identifying him as a man named Ris, primarily due to his pale skin and green eyes. He was about to respond to his question when a message popped up on his phone: "Scion: It's time. Bring in whoever showed up." He checked it quickly, then turned his head to speak to Ris, "Well, it looks like you're about to find out." After finding a place at the center of the crowd, near the two sliding doors, he spoke to everyone in the group: "Time to meet the boss. Last one in closes the doors."
He turned and opened the doors to the warehouse. It looked fairly standard; wooden crates, cardboard boxes, objects covered in tarps, and dust were the main features. Many of the windows that lined the walls were either fogged up or broken, and most of the boxes had been looted long ago. After opening the doors, Wilson walked to the right, carefully examining the wall as if he were counting each individual plank. It didn't take him very long to find the spot he wanted. After tracing an intricate pattern on that spot, a trap door slid open by his feet to the left of him, not kicking up any dust as it did so. He turned back to the group and said, "There's a small red button near the head of the ladder. Last person down should push it to close the trap door."
Assuming someone climbed down, they'd see a short corridor with a fingerprint locked door at the end,which Wilson opens. At the side is an armored guard holding an assault rifle. Their face is covered by their helmet, balaclava, and opaque goggles. They don't seem to react to the crowd entering the room. The room contains rows of computer terminals, along with many people typing away on them. They don't seem to notice or care either. The walls were a shade of grey, with the floor and ceiling being a darker shade. Doors could be seen at many different points on the walls of the room, and there seems to be a freshly dug doorway at one point with a pick and shovel by it, perhaps implying the COL had expanded most of their base from the already existing basement. After leading the group through the room, he opens a door at the end which leads to Scion's office.
The room's walls and floor has the same color scheme as the previous room. By the door was a water machine and end table, the end table providing space for a stack of styrofoam cups. A potted plant stood at the far left corner, and another door was at the center of the back wall. The right wall has a calendar with with various dates marked, and to the right of the calendar is a map of Lynnhaven, studded with different colored thumb tacks. At the center was a wooden desk, and behind it was a swiveling chair that contained Denzel Greeves, or Scion. His hair is grey with age and cut into a short traditional style. It looks like he hadn't shaved for a week or two, and his eyes are gray. He has wrinkles across his body, but not nearly as much as he was supposed to have for his age. A faint scar ran down from the middle of his left eyebrow to the center of his left cheek. He was surprisingly muscular, and his green short sleeved shirt made no attempt to hide it. In addition he wore baggy camo pants, brown boots, and a black watch. Anybody with Post-Visual Sight would be able to tell that his arms and legs had been replaced with robotic counterparts. An ash tray on his desk, with a few snubbed out cigarettes sticking out of it, gave off a faint smell. He currently seems to be scanning through a newspaper. He has no reaction when Wilson enters the room. Wilson then waits for everybody else to enter.
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I apologize in advance if I don't post on an RP for a while; I'm still sorting things out.
[Deleted]
Quote me if you want a reply, and please click that little
if I helped you out.
Paxit - A Nation-Building Forum Roleplay. Join us!Rest in peace, Paxit.((Accepted. You can keep the hand gun. You might want to post soon, because we're almost ready to continue to the next part.))
I apologize in advance if I don't post on an RP for a while; I'm still sorting things out.
((I'm not exactly sure; what is the geography/area of the area we are meeting at?))
Claire was still as solemn as before, very vigilantly watching her surroundings and what was happening around her. There wasn't much for her to do other than that in all honesty, she wasn't exactly fond of social interaction, although that might've been partly to be blamed on her isolated childhood. Either ways, nothing much has really changed. Anything of real significance was a particularly old car which had parked itself for a while, just in time for a blonde woman to exit from it with a gun handed to her. It felt like she took more note of the vehicle though, as it looked like a particularly interesting piece of antique, but she pushed that out of her mind as fast as the car sped off.
It was around this time when the gentleman who had been talking to Wilson before, who's list of aliases Claire already had in her memory, came over to look at her directly and ask her a somewhat peculiar question, of which she had really never had to answer before. Claire, with her arms still crossed, brought some of her attention away from her environment and returned the look without any sort of emotions showing whatsoever, still keeping her state of indifference, as she went on to reply after a short pause.
"Longer than most would like to...", she spoke in an assertive, but not harsh, tone. With that in mind, she allowed her mind to wander for just a short amount of time, pondering over the question as she thought back to days long forgotten, but of which she remembered every single detail excruciatingly well...
The date was January 29th, 2131. When did the exact moment she was recalling occur? 19:47:21. She had been staring at a large set of television screens in the dark(the screens being the only thing keeping the room from turning pitch black), sitting in a chair with her arms very calmly resting on the fabric of the armchairs. Specifically, she had been observing a certain feed of a location not far from where she currently was.
Inside a moderately sized and very simply decorated room, a huge round table sat directly in the middle, with a group of 7 men and 3 women sitting around it, most of them having particularly stressed and unhappy expressions. Some of them kept turning their heads to a clock attached to a nearby wall, hoping that by doing so perhaps time could speed up and this horrible meeting could've been over with. After a minute of silence, what looked like the leader of the group stood up, placing both of his hands on the wooden table very sternly before speaking.
"Alright. Let's get this over with. We're here to discuss the current problems the group is currently facing. We need a solution folks, before this thing explodes.", this was followed once again by practically nothing but a few coughs, before he continued again.
"May I remind you, that if we don't do anything, the mega-corporations will be all over us. We'll lose everything. Come on. Think...", he then started to walk back and forth, quietly pondering over the situation to himself before he stood still, sighed, and continued the conversation.
"Okay... let's look at this once again. This organisation has been crumbling apart for quiet a while now. People are going their separate ways, the faction very insidiously having split up into different equally malicious groups and sections, looking to different people for leadership. We've already had a huge conflict the other day, that could've ended up in a damn civil war! Tensions are high, and we need to find a way to defuse this right now. We're on a damn ticking time bomb here.", discussion seemed to stir among the numerous people in the room, but none of them really ever offering their ideas. The head of the council coughed to hush everyone up, before sharing his thoughts.
"From the way I see it... we have no choice but to integrate Johnson, Bryan, and Barnes into the council.", at this point a lot more talking erupted in the group, but the main speaker resumed his show of opinion after everyone was silenced by the raising of his hand.
"Look, I know it's difficult and risky. It's equivalent to cutting off a random wire in a bomb while being blindfolded. But we have no other options. The best we can hope for is that they join without any sort of conflicting interests, and as such, the group becomes united once again under the three of them working together... After that, as for the remaining minor coalitions.... Well, we'll cross that bridge when we get there. Terry, please call the three of them here. Tell them it's urgent.", a brown haired man nodded and stood up, reaching to the door noticeably slower than average, before finally
reaching it and pulling at the door knob several times, before eventually coming to a realisation.
"We're locked in!", just as he announced this, he suddenly began coughing very roughly, before blood could suddenly be seen being spat out from his mouth. Right as he collapsed onto the ground, and even before anyone had the chance to react, it seemed that everyone else in the room followed with the same symptoms, some of them being so horribly affected that they might as well have been strangled by phantoms. Holding onto their necks, grabbing onto the chairs and attempting to stabilise themselves, all of them ultimately ended up dead. Some were positioned in their chairs at uncomfortable angles caused by their final struggles, and as for the leader of the group, he collapsed onto the table, his hand merely grasping at a symbol at the centre of the table: a yellow sickle and hammer covering a red circle: an icon most commonly associated at the time with the Crimsons.
Claire, still breathing through her gas mask as composed as ever, observed the room of now deceased people. In her left hand held a device of sorts, which she had recently activated using the press of her thumb. Poisonous gas, bought off the black market for her own use. She paid a lot to make sure questions weren't asked, but it was well worth the money. It was odourless and had been pumped into the room through a secure ventilation line. They never stood a chance.
Laying behind her were 2 soldiers dressed in what looked like red armour, each of them with a throwing knife burrowed in their heads. Claire had just killed 12 people, and yet as she thought it over and over again, she didn't seem to feel any remorse or guilt whatsoever. Her eyes and expression were as unperturbed as ever. She didn't even need to morally justify what had just happened repeatedly in her head, or reassure herself that everything was going to be okay. It was just... irrelevant to her at this point.
Standing back up and tearing out her two blades out of the 2 dead men which surrounded her, she thought through her plans once again, knowing that the next order of business was to take a trip to the Crimson archives and remove whatever sort of recorded information there was about her.
Opening the exit's door, she then stepped out very quietly, pausing for a second to look back, before closing the door and leaving without a word.
Just as the memory ran through her head very clearly, she looked off into the distance, seemingly just watching and pondering over the light rain before returning back to what was currently at hand after just a few seconds. 'The past is in the past...' Seeing as she was already talking to someone, she decided to at least continue on with it for a while, considering that if what this Scion says is true, she's gonna be working with these various people as a team for quite a bit.
"I go by Claire... What about you?", this was said in a more apathetic voice, nothing practically given away during the short amount of time since the conversation first started.
While that had been happening, Tetra had been keeping to herself, quietly enjoying her own music that was currently playing through the wireless earbuds placed in her ears. If she had to describe it, it was definitely a very enjoyable upbeat tune, yet she started only by bobbing her head up and down at a steady speed, but it wasn't long before the song started to take a slightly heavier turn. A lot more noticeably cheerful aura surrounded her, Tetra simply smiling to herself as she began to move her head a lot more often than usual and her right feet slowly tapping to the beat, at a possibly erratic and random pace.
It was very easily one of her favourite pieces of electronic dance music(although her favourites comprised of an uncountable amount of music), which was basically a wide set of genres which had really started picking up speed around the 21st century. Although most people these days might be a bit too busy or even depressed to enjoy music, Tetra often found time for it, and was a huge enthusiast in the whole thing overall, despite how uncommon that might've been these days around the general population. As strange as things currently were(music wasn't as popular as they were back then with the gloom over everyone), not to mention the overall decay of genres overtime, Tetra managed to find her way to EDM somehow, and it stuck.
Often knowing exactly when and how each song she listened to ended, and still tapping to the rhythm, she noticed an aged car pull up, and a woman come out. Tetra didn't really note the part about the gun or anything, but seeing as she had nothing to do right now, maybe she'd go make a friend? On second thought, there was no maybe in that question. And on a third thought, it wasn't even a question anymore. Tapping the ear bud in her right ear with a tap of a finger(which quickly scanned the finger for a print), the current song playing stopped. Seeing the newcomer clear her throat loudly, Wilson and Tetra walked over, ready to introduce themselves to her. She would wait as patiently as she could for Wilson to introduce himself, before she'd take her turn and start talking.
((As a side note, great music Mafia.))
((EDIT: For anyone reading this, I've deleted Tetra's part of the conversation and her song. I'll post the conversation later, and as for music, I'm planning to start using music at a later point when it fits with the RP/what's currently happening.))
(( I just spent half an hour reading everything that has happened))
Jonas accepted Wilson's answer. It was better than nothing after all. He looked back and forth around the crowd, looking for somewhere to stand away from the others. Although Jonas may look like the outgoing type, he was really rather shy around strangers. He always got self-conscious. He turned and saw a woman leaning against the wall, seemingly lost in her own world of music. She was in the least concentrated area of the crowd,and she didn't seem like she would notice him, so he twisted his hat in his hands nervously and strode quickly over to where she was. He made sure not to stand to close, as that would suggest that he was interested in talking to her. He stood with his shoulders leaning against the warehouse, staring straight ahead, trying not to catch anyone's eye. As he stood there waiting, he wondered of what was to come. He mulled over this until the thought lost its luster. He asked his muse to review the interview questions he most likely be asked by the promotion committee.
Yesterday, August 11th, 2137
Adrien walked into the cafe, and sat down at a table in the corner of the room. Carefully resting his backpack on the ground, he removed his laptop and placed it on the table. As he shifted through various news sites, he noticed a small notification in the corner of his screen. He clicked it, opening his email to see who had contacted him. He quickly read the unusual message, before closing his laptop and picking up his bag as he started to walk to the door.
Today, August 12th, 2137
As Adrien strolled through Old Town with his hood on to protect his head from the rain, he constantly looks over his shoulder to make sure he isn't being followed, either by authorities or a local gang. He spotted the motley group of people outside the building from nearly a mile away as his eyes switched to Thermal Imaging. He blinked them back to their normal setting, and checked the time on his phone. "I'm running late," he muttered to himself as he began to pick up the pace.
Adrien approached the group in his usual form, figuring that anyone who could discover his personal email would be able to notice him disguising himself with skinflex. He looked between everyone present, switching his eyes to x-ray as he watched for whatever weapons they had. "Greetings, I am Faith. I hope I am not late," he told them cautiously.
Quote me if you want a reply, and please click that little
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Paxit - A Nation-Building Forum Roleplay. Join us!Rest in peace, Paxit.((Basically a street with a lot of worn, old looking buildings lining it. We're currently in front of a warehouse.))
((Right now we're waiting on one person.
ike, I might respond to your character once Mafia gets back.))
I apologize in advance if I don't post on an RP for a while; I'm still sorting things out.
((I'm really sorry guys. I know you've been waiting on me for a while now, but I ended up having to rewrite the ENTIRE APP. Go ahead and start without me, and I'll jump in when my app is done. Again, REALLY sorry about that.))
"We must call for aid! Executor, bring out the Reavers! ... What? What do you mean we don't have reavers anymore? Then... send the Dragoons! ... Ugh, then what do you suggest? ... What's a Void Ray?!" -Tassadar, Savior of the Templar
((It's fine, Ronin. I was talking about someone else. I almost thought you weren't joining.))
I apologize in advance if I don't post on an RP for a while; I'm still sorting things out.
((Oh. Well, if it makes you feel better, I'm already further along in the app than I was before.))
"We must call for aid! Executor, bring out the Reavers! ... What? What do you mean we don't have reavers anymore? Then... send the Dragoons! ... Ugh, then what do you suggest? ... What's a Void Ray?!" -Tassadar, Savior of the Templar
The woman responded in a slightly forceful and confident tone before pausing just momentarily. This brief gave Dominic all he needed to know. The easiest things to read and the hardest things to cover up are the human eyes. The woman's eyes briefly flicked upwards and to the right before returning back to normal. She was remembering a moment, specifically something primarily visual. Dominic assumed that meant that she was remembering an event directly relating to the question. Dominic thought for a moment. You are by far the most qualified person here as far as I can see. You may have been doing this for a while, but it doesn't seem like it has been long enough. Dominic smiled contently, keeping a very close eye on every single facial feature. It wasn't hard to do, considering the Skinflex made his entire body feel abnormal. His smile was genuine and caring. Dominic made sure of that.
Then, a peculiar thing happened. It seemed the woman briefly lost interest and broke direct eye contact, briefly scanning the group for a moment. There was a look in her eyes that Dominic knew all too well... there was a look of dread. Dominic immediately felt sympathetic. It seemed obvious that everybody present had endured something horrible and were covering it up in their own way. It was probably because of these events that people had been chosen. Dominic had run his fair share of heists. He had become a wanted man. He had become a hunted man. Some might say, he had become a bad man.
The woman proceeded to introduce herself as Claire. Dominic had always liked that name. There was something so classic about it. Dominic had learned many different romantic languages over the past ten years and all of them shared similar words for purity. The name "Claire" had origins in romantic languages meaning purity or transparency. Dominic loved the irony of names like that. It was pretty obvious that this woman was far from pure or transparent.
Dominic, maintaining a genuine smile and a caring gaze, removing his sunglasses and placing them in his pocket. Dominic extended his hand to offer a handshake. "My name's Dominic. My friends call me Nick. It's very nice to meet you Claire." Dominic paused for a moment before saying, "I must give you props Claire, you are a very tough nut to crack. I hope you take pride in that."
Claire observed as the man introduced himself as Dominic, or Nick, as most of his friends would address him by. He'd extended his hand out to offer a handshake with a smile, and had paused for a short amount of time before speaking about her capability on hiding her emotions for just a while. She accepted his handshake with her right hand, only shaking it for a while just softly before placing both of her hands in the pockets of her jacket. At the same time, the woman nodded almost subtly to see that she addressed the comment, with a bit of an uncaring look in her eyes.
"I suppose so... although we all know most of us weren't always like this...", she replied in a bit of a modest tone, as she turned to watch the group once more. For just a moment, it seemed like such a huge variety of different personalities and people, but assuming if they were just as skilled at their skills as she was, most of them would've went through things that they would've been better off forgetting about. The same applied to her...
It was around 1 year ago. As much as Claire wanted to admit that she had gotten over it, and no matter how many times she reasoned with herself, the memory always came back to her in her darkest moments. She had been sitting at a white glass table, reading through dossiers and classified documents in order to pick out the best course of action for the Shadows' next move. While surrounded by stacks upon stacks of files filled with information, there was only one she had been dedicating most of her effort and concentration on. It was a newspaper, with a picture of a huge crater in one of the more isolated parts of Lynnhaven, surrounded by armed policemen and investigation officers everywhere.
The headlines read 'Shadows Terrorists' HQ Destroyed'. Even though it said that examination was currently undergoing to see if they picked up anything from the crime scene, Claire had known that they were simply wasting their time. Hex 3, in being caught in a sudden raid of her facility, blew everything up to oblivion, disintegrating every piece of evidence, hardware, information, and of course, she herself. Claire, in all of her very apathetic mood and attempts to subdue her emotions, had succumbed to grief. Even if it was a while, she couldn't help but feel depressed by what had happened, for hours on end just staring at pictures taking by authorities of the destroyed base.
Thoughts such as 'There's no point wasting more time on it.' and 'Thinking about it more wasn't going to change anything.' ran through her head, and even though Claire was often a very logical person who based everything she did on reason... this was just different. One of the only real friends she ever had in her life had sacrificed herself to protect the rest of the team... and she wouldn't even be able to be given a proper burial. Because there was nothing to bury but ashes.
In the end, she had to let a majority of it go. She couldn't let it consume her. Even so, Hex 3 often came up in her mind when she wasn't occupied, and despite having virtually thought about her as much as possible, it never really left her mind. It was one of those memories that she couldn't just push into the back of her brain, and label it as 'irrelevant'. Now that she thought of it, this might've played a small part in her coming out of retirement(after all Shadows operations were put on hold indefinitely) to robbing museums and banks related to mega-corporations. It was never really for herself. Most of the goods she stole were sold on the black market, and often donated to the unfortunate and people who had been backstabbed by the government. But in all honesty, she could've stayed retired for a long time, or excused herself as waiting for Hex 2 to return. The thing that really pushed her the most to do something with herself was the memory of Hex 3... it was one of the only things that had kept her going and working, as subconscious as the effect might've been.
With that short session of pondering, as she once again examined the surroundings and the people around her, she looked back at Dominic and nodded slightly once again, before leaning upon the wall of the warehouse again. After that, she suddenly didn't feel like talking anymore. It was clear that she wasn't ignoring Dominic, but it seemed like she had other things running through her mind at the moment. Claire simply watched the rain, and seemingly nothing else.
Victoria then noticed, the place started to fill with people by the minute "So is this all of us?" She asked raising her brow. She slipped her goggles to her neck and rubbed her head. She just stood there, watching everyone join up with this little group of...Odd... Individuals.
Out of the crowd of ten that was standing before the entrance of the building, one particularly tall man in a heavy black jacket voiced out a name that Iris hadn't heard in a while. Her attention was now spreaded towards the person that called her, focusing on removing any bad thoughts from her mind that might hinder her current social whereabout. "That's right." She said to the man firmly. "But you should really call me Iris instead of my... normal name." It was a provoking thought though, which name shall be considered normal or not was an unpleasant puzzle that would often bug her mind.
But she didn't need to worry much about it. Nobody has ever called her Irida in the past four years. This man in particular had a hold on her real credentials, stuff like the ID number that has been stripped off from her citizenship account which was the only remaining resource for digging out her name. Unless, of course, the man remembered her name from some TV broadcast, those that used to put the Orma family to the spotlight a decade and further ago.
The man standing in front of her, who introduced himself as Wilson, let out an aura of an inspirational feeling. It was almost as if this man was born to be a diplomat, someone whose each and every words could be trusted as each person's own. Iris shook herself clear of that feeling and tried harder to bear into consideration the purpose that she was here, and the fact that strange men and women had a hold on her long-forgotten identity.
"Nice to meet you." Iris replied, finally, as politely as she could. "Say, Wilson, wasn't it? Can you tell me why have you called me here?" Iris asked in a rational spike of curiosity. After all, the message that she had received was vague, to say at least, and there were also too many people here. Her point of view then changed towards the rest of the crew members who were standing among with her. They all seemed to be in a state of disarray as much as she was. Perhaps, none of them had gotten their replies from such questions yet, even after raising their considerations and questions on their own.
This door should better lead to something interesting, or else Iris would kick this case off and walk away as if she had never answered that call.
"Right, sorry," Wilson replied, making a mental note in his head for the new nickname. A nagging feeling suddenly came to him. The woman in front of him looked like someone he'd seen before. There was something about a corporation in her bio as well... whatever. Wilson brushed it aside to answer her question. "Well, technically it wasn't me that sent for you. That was my boss. We'll meet him in a few minutes. As for why you're here, we're taking in recruits for an organization of ours. You might have noticed the people around you and figured that what we're doing isn't exactly legal. I can't reveal too much outside because of that. I realize we're standing in a place not many would want to be in, but it's better to be safe."
Another man walked up to the group, introducing himself as Faith. Wilson recalled the name from his bio, remembering him to be another hacker. "Excuse me," he said to Iris, walking over to Faith. "Hey, nice to meet you. My name is Wilson," he said as he offered his right hand. "You're not late. We'll be heading inside shortly."
I apologize in advance if I don't post on an RP for a while; I'm still sorting things out.
((Sorry for the short post, I'm on my iPad tonight and can't be bothered to type on this stupid keyboard.))
Adrien shakes the man's hand, "I'm just glad this is not a setup... Or, atleast, not one created by the police. It is nice to meet someone that I can have a little faith in." He grins at his own joke as he releases Wilson's hand.
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Paxit - A Nation-Building Forum Roleplay. Join us!Rest in peace, Paxit.Once Tetra had noticed that Wilson and the newcomer had gotten to know each other substantially(and thus the conversation ended), she quickly awoke from her state of curiously examining the people around her from afar. For just that short amount of time, she'd been daydreaming about random things and events that weren't really connected to each other, just before being jolted back into reality subconsciously. Brushing a bit of imaginary dust off her shoulder, as some people usually do, she then approached her a bit excitedly, and coughed just slightly, before finally introducing herself to Iris in a bit of a playful manner.
"Wazzup? Da name is Tetra; great to meetcha!", she said in a very clearly cheerful mood with a smirk, with both her hands fidgeting with each other behind her back, with nothing to really do as she tried to contain her energy. She detected this, and then quickly brought out one of her hands, both of which were covered in some weathered dark grey wool gloves, for the usual friendly handshake to correct the situation. Tetra kept a very genuine happy smile on, despite her one inactive hand behind her back, virtually unnoticed by her, wriggling just slightly to occupy itself.
She walked towards Wilson and looked at him, she let out a sigh "Can I... Run back to my workshop to grab something?" She asked in all seriousness. The colour of her eyes began to fade for some odd reason, whilst more people came.
Well, that took forever.
Shush Breta.
Sure, it took us 15 minutes to find the place, but that tends to happen when you barely know your town. It seems like we never had left that coffee shop in nearly forever.
Anyway, we had found the building. But was more impressive was the array of people before it. What did he have in common with them? What skills did they have? Maybe this was some sort of business meeting? But...we aren't high up in our business..hmm....
Maybe it's your arm?
No, that hardly seems unique. Look at the rest of them. Some of them have cyberkinetic arms and legs. Well, not so much on the leg part, but neither did he.
Well, might as well introduce yourself.
True.
Ris walked towards the group, smiling to them like they were old friends. He added himself to the crowd, and waiting for the other three talking to Wilson to speak. His voice came out almost like that of an inquisitive child, asking an innocent question.
"Excuse me, sir, but you seem to be the leader here. What exactly is going on, and why where we called here?"
Wilson slightly smiled at the pun, and turned to face another recruit, identifying him as a man named Ris, primarily due to his pale skin and green eyes. He was about to respond to his question when a message popped up on his phone: "Scion: It's time. Bring in whoever showed up." He checked it quickly, then turned his head to speak to Ris, "Well, it looks like you're about to find out." After finding a place at the center of the crowd, near the two sliding doors, he spoke to everyone in the group: "Time to meet the boss. Last one in closes the doors."
He turned and opened the doors to the warehouse. It looked fairly standard; wooden crates, cardboard boxes, objects covered in tarps, and dust were the main features. Many of the windows that lined the walls were either fogged up or broken, and most of the boxes had been looted long ago. After opening the doors, Wilson walked to the right, carefully examining the wall as if he were counting each individual plank. It didn't take him very long to find the spot he wanted. After tracing an intricate pattern on that spot, a trap door slid open by his feet to the left of him, not kicking up any dust as it did so. He turned back to the group and said, "There's a small red button near the head of the ladder. Last person down should push it to close the trap door."
Assuming someone climbed down, they'd see a short corridor with a fingerprint locked door at the end,which Wilson opens. At the side is an armored guard holding an assault rifle. Their face is covered by their helmet, balaclava, and opaque goggles. They don't seem to react to the crowd entering the room. The room contains rows of computer terminals, along with many people typing away on them. They don't seem to notice or care either. The walls were a shade of grey, with the floor and ceiling being a darker shade. Doors could be seen at many different points on the walls of the room, and there seems to be a freshly dug doorway at one point with a pick and shovel by it, perhaps implying the COL had expanded most of their base from the already existing basement. After leading the group through the room, he opens a door at the end which leads to Scion's office.
The room's walls and floor has the same color scheme as the previous room. By the door was a water machine and end table, the end table providing space for a stack of styrofoam cups. A potted plant stood at the far left corner, and another door was at the center of the back wall. The right wall has a calendar with with various dates marked, and to the right of the calendar is a map of Lynnhaven, studded with different colored thumb tacks. At the center was a wooden desk, and behind it was a swiveling chair that contained Denzel Greeves, or Scion. His hair is grey with age and cut into a short traditional style. It looks like he hadn't shaved for a week or two, and his eyes are gray. He has wrinkles across his body, but not nearly as much as he was supposed to have for his age. A faint scar ran down from the middle of his left eyebrow to the center of his left cheek. He was surprisingly muscular, and his green short sleeved shirt made no attempt to hide it. In addition he wore baggy camo pants, brown boots, and a black watch. Anybody with Post-Visual Sight would be able to tell that his arms and legs had been replaced with robotic counterparts. An ash tray on his desk, with a few snubbed out cigarettes sticking out of it, gave off a faint smell. He currently seems to be scanning through a newspaper. He has no reaction when Wilson enters the room. Wilson then waits for everybody else to enter.
I apologize in advance if I don't post on an RP for a while; I'm still sorting things out.