NationStates Jolt Archive

"Your Holiness... We have successfully located several candidates for our project." Colonel Rovinda reported, after bowing deeply.
"Very well - you have the Church's approval to proceed." replied the Archbishop, who was sitting in his grand chair of polished mahagony.
"We'd like permission to recruit our first subject. A man by the name of -" Rovinda took a quick peek at his clipboard. "Edwards."
"Granted. Of course, your project does not exist... If you know what I mean." the Archbishop replied smoothly.
"Understood."

Slums of Desolado
Three military vans pulled up just outside an alley. The doors opened, and squads of highly trained military men stepped out, all in combat uniform. Each person was covered in black, with a helmet and visor that prevented anybody from identifying them. A black ops job. They lined up into 6 rows of 4, each standing at attention.
"Men - you have all been selected for an important task today. I will brief you now on the specifics of the operation. We are after a man. This man:"
Rovinda took out a picture, and held it up for all the men to see.
"Your objective is to capture him alive. He may or may not be armed - nevertheless, you are to approach him with caution. You will only fire if fired upon, and will not employ unecessary force. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Sir!" came the ominous reply.
"Move out."

OOC: Don't have too much time to type out, will do more tomorrow. Sorry for being vague :P

OOC: Is this an rp or a story?

OOC: Gonna be a story...

Edwards Worros woke up suddenly, with a chill running down his spine. The hairs on his arm were standing up. Something was wrong. He began sweating, and he suddenly felt hot. There were people about - people with ill intentions.

"Shit. Danger."

Edwards moved his shaking hand to his drawer, and opened it. He moved his hand and grabbed his Taurus Raging Bull. His old friend from his previous mandatory military service - a large monster, one of the most powerful in the world. It was cold to the touch, and already loaded. He gripped the handle, and his hand stopped shaking. It was just like old times. His frantic breathing slowed down. He cocked the trigger, and just as he did that, he spun around suddenly. He fired two shots blindly through the wall, sending splinters flying in the air. Somebody behind the wall cried out, but Edwards didn't stop moving. He quickly grabbed a few boxes of ammo from the drawer, and ran towards the window. He leapt right through it, ignoring the sharp pain from the shards of glass lodging in his arms. Behind him, he saw a bright flash then heard a deafening boom a split second later. It didn't matter, he was in hyper-mode, his body was moving so fast that his mind couldn't keep up. He sprinted down the narrow alley, slightly disoriented, but still functioning.

"Shit, why are they after me?" he thought to himself. Before he could reply with an answer, he raised his hand. Two men in mono-black uniforms had just come around the corner.

"F-"

One of the men apparantly tried to say something, but was cut short by a bullet that slammed him right in the visor before he could even complete the first syllable. Blood and brain tissue splatted out the hole in the back of the helmet , leaving a fine crimson mist floating in the air. The second man leveled a odd looking aparatus, but was also cut down quickly by Edwards. One bullet hit his abdomen, piercing through his body armor. The second bullet hit his throat - needless to say the thin protective fabric there did nothing to stop it. He went down quickly, but Edwards was already reloading his gun. His mind was racing, trying to visualize the neighborhood, trying to think of a way to get out of this mess. He came around the corner, careful not to trip on the inanimate bodies of the two men he had shot. He could feel men behind him, chasing, and also more people moving in front to block him off. He moved to the right a bit and felt a sudden rush of air as a blast of sound flew past where he was less than a second ago. He could literally see the air vibrating as the blast traveled, and hit the concrete wall in front of him, making a few cracks in it and sending the paint chips into the air. He moved again, but not fast enough this time - the blast hit his arm, and the impact nearly knocked him off balance. His arm felt numb, and a sharp pain racked his shoulder as he ran. He moved his right hand and shot behind him blindly, the recoil nearly jolting the gun out of his hand as the cartiage exploded, propelling the .454 bullet away from the muzzle at more than 1300 fps. He fired off another two shots before a blast caught him right in his back. The impact threw him forward, flying through the air. He tried to roll as he landed, but that didn't work out too well. His head was ringing, and his back felt as though somebody dropped a piano on it. He slowly raised his only functioning arm, and fired off another shot. His vision started to blur and fade as he tried to reload his gun. In the distance he could hear the men speaking in their radio.

"We got him, moving in... We've got four men down, two probab..."

Edwards' eyes closed involuntarily as the voice started fading and a veil of darkness was draped over his eyes, and he soon lose consciousness.

OOC: He has basic psychic abilties that manifest in the form of intuition, increased endurance, strength, speed, etc... Constructive comments welcomed.

Edwards laid in his bed lazily, eyes closed. It was so easy to just stay like this, drifting...

"Where am I? The last thing that happened..."

Edwards' train of thought carried him to his last memory. He jerked up from his bed, fully conscious - his ribs protested with pain, but he ignored it. He looked around his room wildly - it was a white, sterile hospital room. There was a man sitting on a chair nearby, leaning against the wall, and two guards armed with rifles standing at the doorway. He spotted a window nearby.

"If I jump out of there..."

The man sitting seemed to have read Edwards' mind.

"I wouldn't try it. It's a long fall down, not to mention we have guards outside too... Calm down, we just wanted to talk."

Edwards eyed the window before returning his gaze to the man. He said nothing.

"Allow me to introduce myself," continued the man, "I am Colonel Rovinda, of Rather Convenient's Inquisitor Division. We've been looking for you for a long time."

Edwards' face hardened at this statement.

"I left the military years ago, and I have no intention to return."

Colonel Rovinda ignored Edwards, and opened his folder, and began reading off the papers inside it.

"You're a tough sonovabitch. You have 2 cracked ribs, one cracked vertebrate, a torn tendon in your left ankle, multiple lacerations in your arms, and a dislocated shoulder that we fixed. Worrows, Edwards - Born in 2041 to Alexander Worrows and Leah Worrows. Little sister born in 2047. Excellent marks all the way to college, when you enrolled in the RC Military Academy at age 18. Then the Alevis War broke out - you served as part of the forward advance unit, the renown Thunder Battalion of the 68th Infantry Division - more commonly known as the Rushing Templars. During your service, you achieved the rank of Captain. Unfortunately, your family was killed in the Alevis aerial campaign."

Rovinda closed the folder, and put it down on his lap. He continued from memory.

"You recieved 3 Holy Crosses, 4 Medals of Righteousness, and was named Valour's Minion by the Archbishop himself. You are one of the most decorated people in the history of our military. But after the war you abandoned your highly successful military career. Why?"

Edwards merely bowed his head a little, and did not respond.

"Surely you had your reasons." said Rovinda, probing deeper.

"I lost my taste for it... The war. My family was gone - I had nobody left." Edwards looked up, straight into the eye of Rovinda.
"You have no idea what war is like."

The colonel merely arched an eyebrow.

Edwards gave a hollow laugh, and leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

"Gott ist tot. How could any God claim to be merciful, yet allow these things to happen?"

Rovinda sat forward, and interlocked his fingers together.

"Sometimes... It's just part of His plan. We have nobody to blame but ourselves."

Edwards gave a slight snicker.

"In the war... I saw what man truely is. We are hungry, vicious animals without restraint. Base creatures, the most savage of them all."

"That's what war does - it's a good thing that God is forgiving, or we'd all be going to Hell."

"Heh. I'm already forsaken - I'm not even too sure if I believe in God anymore. I used to be very devout. Before the war. But now..."

Rovinda was silent in thought. He began to speak after a few seconds.

"Mr. Worros, we have a proposition for you. We would like you enroll your services once again."

"I told you - I quit."

"This isn't a military job. This is strictly a Church internal affairs operation."

Edwards knew what this meant. He didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

"I won't cooperate."

"We have ways of making you cooperate."

"I know."

Rovinda sighed. He was hoping they could get his cooperation voluntarily.

"Very well. Guards! Take him away."

Another two guards entered the room - one gave him a shot on the arm, and seconds later, he was a docile creature, staring into space. The guards took him by the arm, and supported him as they walked him out of the room, towards a black van.

Edwards spent the next few years in tortured existence. He was taken to the Church's secret Inquisition HQ, where he endured among the worse things a human could possibly imagine. Not just physical pain - he was not deprived of sleep all, but also all human comforts. The propaganda coming that permeated every place assaulted his mind, ripping apart his psyche. State-trained psychics carefully deconstructed his mind, while drugs and potent chemical mixes were injected into his bloodstream. Practioners of mystical arts were brought in to examine and alter Edwards. For eight entire years, the Church slowly chipped away at his mind, body, and spirit. When he emerged, he was a totally different person. Experiemental gene therapy had altered his body beyond normal bounds. Mechanical implants and alterations were grafted into his body, providing strength beyond that of what was normally possible. Mystic arts warped his abilities to the point that he was nearly a demi-god.
________________________
The door to his dark, damp cell opened, and a small glimmer of light entered.

"Edwards... From this day on, you are now Contrition. Understood?"

The man formerly known as Edwards merely nodded slightly. He would serve the Church to his death.

"Who do you serve?"

"The Church."

The man merely gave a satisfied look.

"Contrition, we already have an assignment for you... We'll give you a few weeks to get back into shape. The Church needs you now."

The man at his cell started to walk out, but then turned around again.

"Oh, by the way... We'll have you meet your new teammates."

He turned around and walked out again, and Contrition followed him through the open door.

"Contrition, these are your new partners."
Contrition merely grunted and looked up. There were two people standing in front of him. One was a lean, willowy female with raven black hair and cold eyes. She had the figure of a gymnastic - in fact, she seemed to be a teenager. The other person was tall and wiry and looked to be in his early twenties. He possessed a certain maniac grin with a bit of insanity thrown in, grey hair, and bony hands. He was in a bright orange prisoner's suit, while the girl was covered almost from head to toe in a glossy obsidian fabric.

The man tilted his head a little, his grin widening. He extended his hand, offering a handshake. Contrition took it for the sake of formalities.

"Hello. I guess I'll be working with you and this chick here. They call me Depravity."

Colonel Rovinda glanced at the girl, who merely maintained her pose with crossed arms. He sighed at the lack of initiative shown by her.

"This is Wintry."

Contrition merely nodded his head slightly. If she didn't want to be friendly, he would oblige.

"You three, get to know each other. You'll be working with each other for a long, long time. Your lives will depend on each other. I leave it to you to take it from here."

Rovinda started walking away, then turned around, as though he forgot something.

"Oh, and you three are now part of the newly resurrected Church's Exorcist division... There might be more later, but for now, you three are the only ones. We meet here tomorrow, 0900. I suggest a light breakfast."