NationStates Jolt Archive

The dirt and grime covered sidewalk echoed in one of the tunnels in the red light district. Some callgirls did their thing and prostitutes clad in skimpy outfits pranced around. Boxes with odd shipments and old crates riddled the walls. A rather rough looking gang of young teens cracked the knuckles and called out insults as others walked by and welcomed anyone they knew and trusted openly. A long row of lights along the roof of the tunnel fizzled occasionally. Some had blown out or had been damaged by small fights and gang wars.

Walking briskly and quickly was a man in his mid twenties. He wore a gray overcoat, and had it done up. He walked as if he was trying to escape something but not be noticed by others. The brim of his hat was pulled down to avert anyone from seeing his eyes. Old leather work shoes scuffed along making the all too familiar sound of heel on ground. Some call girls made attempts to get his attention. A prostitute grabbed his shoulder but her kept walking and pulled free. The back of his coat blew behind him as a subway pulled into the station ahead.

The mans speed picked up greatly hearing the ring of the arrivance bell and a man calling out "Three minutes till departure." The speedwalk became a run. He peered over his shoulder and saw as men dressed in royal blue slid around the corner with assault rifles aimed for him. Their leader the man assumed was the one in blue and white without the stun baton. The men kept coming forward quickly calling out warnings. The head lead onward.

The gang split into the darkness as quick as possible, seemingly faster than some would think possible. Some stray characters jumped into old crates, obviously knowing the danger that had made itself known. The callgirls and prostitues took to the crates or fled from the large underground tunnel.

The man changed direction and ran to the wall to a powerbox. He pulled it open with some force and pulled some cutters from his coat and snipped 2 wires at a time. Slowly the powers all around them cut out. He smacked the door shut as he turned and darted off into the darkness towards the green sign of the subway. He jumped down two flights of stairs. The second one he landed badly and lay there holding his ribcage, for he hit the handrail on the way down. He started coughing, but pulled himself towards the door as the timer ran down until the doors closed. He managed to pull himself into the empty car and lay upon a row of seats coughing.

The enforcement that had been pursuing ran ip and started trying to pry the doors and tried breaking the conflict proof windows. To no succession they seemd stumped and the subway pulled away with a laughing getaway inside mocking them.

The man they had been pursuing was Clinton Maxwell. What they had been pursuing him for, Clinton could only guess at, for living in the world they lived in almost anything you did in the public eye could be seen as wrong and could cause problems. Clinton caught his breath and removed his hat and ran his fingers along the brim. With no one to talk to Clinton stood and read signs, most out of date and pointless. His green eyes looked out the window into the old tunnels. "They will be waiting for me at the next station." he said in a monotoned voice of thought. He went to the door and looked out the window the best he could. "This will hurt you alot Clinton" he said to himself. "But its the only way..." He said putting his hand on the emergency door opening switch. He pulled it down with a sudden jerk and the doors infront of him slid into the sides of the subway.

The body of the man flew through the air, the jumptiming was horrible, and he had missed the inner parts of the tunnel. His coat blew in the wind wildly as he plunged into the water of the sewer. His hat appeared on the surface then his fists and his head. Clinton coughed and struggled momentarily. He grabbed for his hat and puledd himself over to the edge and pulled himself up. He coughed once again, though in ain from his earlier bump. "God damn" he said quietly. and walked along close to the wall.

(OOC: And now, I wait.)

OOC: Okay, a few questions.
-Where is this? (planet/continent/country/etc.)
-How do you want other people to get involved?
-Is there an actual storyline you have laid out, or is it freeform?

(OOC: Thankfully someone joined :). Onto your questions.
1. Im not sure where, most likely earth, maybe north america. Anywhere really where the mainland can be bombed to hell then rebuilt with a bad government and everything.
2. Others can come in anyway they see fit.
3.This is like a shortened intro to the novel Im writing, so I may use parts of it to get some action, but its basically up to you guys and gals to make this thing intense with me.)

OOC: Hmm.... In my timeline Earth is still going strong by the end of the third millenium. Well, that's no matter. I'll just use NPCs. You'll have to carry the bulk of the description, since this is your world we're playing in. I'll try not to mess it up. If you'd like, I can take up the "bad guys" later. I can already see the drunkard character getting old...

IC: A middle-aged homeless man stands up in Clinton's path, wavering drunkenly. "Hey! Th'ish my tunnel, boy! What'choo doin', jumpin' outta trains like some shtuntman?"

He stood, watching. When the events happened, he mearly followed. No reaction came, ever, he mearly watched. He was, in fact, a Naggrothian Watcher. When the man entered the train, he was on the back of the veical. He was also a tester, he had been ordered to test the man before him, to see if he was worthy of the Order, should he pass the tests set out before him, they would bring him with them when they left this planet. Earth had in the last five years of the Empires inhabitation of this galaxy a great collection ground, more then Five hundred provided.

Clinton gave the man a quizzical look. "Now... What are you going on about old man?" He said stepping back and stroking a non-existant goatee. "How can you own a tunnel?" His eyes strained when he smelt the alcohol in the mans breath. "Are you drunk?"

I feel the water slowly seeping through my body, feeding the slime that wears away my bones. The rushing constructs of metal and plastic. The little, soft things crawling, crawling endlessly through my corridors. Feeding on one another; consuming more than mere flesh. The endless, cancerous struggle to replicate. The warmth of sunlight on my skin. The terrible, terrible pressure from the shafts of reinforced concrete, driving themselves into my flesh; rising to flaunt their power over the nourishing sky.

And I feel, indifferently, the three small, soft things, thinking their small, hard thoughts. The self-deceiving secrecy, all seeking to use one another. All seeking to replicate. The stench of my rotting bones. The agonizing, slow settling of stone.

OOC: Heh. Kindura, you have managed to captivate and confuse me at the same time. Good writing.

IC: The man stumbles from the side platform, falling onto the tracks. He twists awkwardly to avoid the electric rail, using the wall to steady himself as he regains his unsteady footing. "Tha'sh none'a yer business! I ashked you a qeshun! What're you doin' here?"

"If you had been paying attention, I am on the run from the law." Clinton said shaking his head. He leaned against the wall and yawned. A thought that stook out in his mind was "What have you gotten yourself into now?"

The drunk climbs back up to the emergency walk alongside the rails and prods Clinton roughly with his index finger. "I don' care what yer reason is! Get outta my house!" With that, he collapses into the small bundle of sheets that is his bed, passed out.

OOC: throw in some adversaries eh?

IC: *kachink* the weapon made a satisfying noise as it was prepared to fire. Skritch and his freelancers had been sitting and waiting all day for some stupid human. It all started in Iraq when they were aquiring some weapon’s grade plutonium. Someone aquired his cellphone number somehow and made them an offer. Help capture this man, and you’ll get a fair reward. Ordinarily, Skritch would say “Screw you” or something with more colorful language. But he had no jobs lined up after his current, so he took. And now he and a few of his merry marauders were stuck waiting. There was him with his AK-103, Iskritt with an AK-74UB, and a few other scumbags with AK-91s. Skritch was dressed in CQ6 assault vest with other various pieces of equipment, each made by a separate country. He was of medium build with dark feral eyes that posses a ruthless cunning. The others had tactical vests and simalair mix-n-match equipment.

He was tossing around the idea of simply leaving and looting a few places nearby, when some drunken guy was arguing with some other dude.

Wait a sec… that’s him, that’s the target.

He tried silent signaling them to spread out, but they didn’t understand, so he gave up and walked towards the train flanked by his eight looters…

;) Arnold sighed. He had no job, no family, his city had recently been bombed to hell, by whom no one knowed. The only work was in crime and fighting crime. That was life, crime and crime fighting. You could hardly tell the difference between the two sides anymore. The so called "crime fighters" killed and robbed just as many people as the "criminals." The only difference was they had government funding. You could argue the criminals did more good than the cops. One thing was not arguable, he needed cash. For food. He was hungry and he couldn't live on sub sandwiches forever....well, he could, but he was gonna' run out of money eventually. He couldn't get a job with the government, so there was only one other option. He took a gun from his pocket and shot the cash register of the grocery store he had been strolling through, stealing food. He pocketed the handgun, grabbed some cash, said thanks, and strolled away.

Arnold had pilfered 40 dollars. He bought a sub sandwich and pondered the rest of his life while he ate it. He was officially a criminal, but everyone knew criminals didn't last long alone. He finished off his sub, then decided the best place to find criminals was underground. When he thought no one was looking he slipped through a manhole and replaced the cover. The climbed down the ladder and walked the sidewalk beside the river of sewage. He eventually encountered a number of guys looking like they were ganging up on some other guy. They all looked like criminals, but he decided he was gonna' be a hero and come to the rescue of the lone enemy. He drew the Glock 19 in his right hand and was about to shoot it in the face of the leader when something happened to make him think about it.....

OOC: What happened?!? I don't know!! But you do!!! Tell me!!!(I mean RP it, I'm too lazy and I want to give you a chance. I don't like showing people up. It's a burden having such skills, it really is ;) )

OCC:Can't...stay..away...must..resist...post-apoc... SCREW IT!!
IC:
The tunnels, the darkness offten served as a place to let one gather his or her thoughts together and slowly pull themselves out of the rut they were in though for others they simply served as a place to do buisness or simply wallow and die in. Yet these little facts didn't realy apply to Joshua. He was just passing through, he always seemed to be. He had been refered to as a angel of death at one point in his life yet that part was long behind him. His young appearnce helped to hide his true age. Time had been kind to him.
His clothing was almost all black with the exception of the red lines that ran across his trench coat's left shoulder.
He sat perched quietly on one of the many small groves that had been placed along the walls for workers to stand in as the cars went by. His pistol (a P14-45LDA) was getting dirty from all the action it had seen in the past couple of days and he intended to clean it once he had the time and right this second seemed like nothing better. That is untill he heard voices. Just as the first words reached his ears he grabbed the clip that sat on his lap, slapped it home in one deft motion and flicked the safety off waiting to see who he had to shoot now.

OOC: not joining but this reminds me of farenheit 451...like after the bombs drop on the cities and the book ends...

He felt a message come through the Mind Link, and smiled, he now existed on earth, so he could begin his work in earnest. He drew a Long sowrd from the scarab at his waist and smiled, droping down behind Skritch and his men, before speaking in a low threatening voice.

"Drop the weapons, I might let you leave here with your lives" He said, a massive smile spreading across his face. Only one arm was visable, the other one held onto the Handle of a Uzi. Confidence was a weakness he suffered, but it was forgiven. All Had faults.

OOC: Well, Ive never read, seen, or heard of that book before now... I may go hunt it down though.

IC: Things were quickly becoming thrown about. The drunk was down and out, men with guns were all around him, some guy with a pistol was pretty much behind him, and some crazy ninja man just appeared. Clinton had now clue in the least of what his luck had brought him now. Why couldn't he just escape the law for the night and go home? Why? Because thats the way things happened to Clinton.

"Now now... What is the deal here. Why can't we all just calm down. Just relax. I would like to just go home, but here you all are guns aimed at some nameless loser in an old subway tunnel." He said an angry tone coming out in the last part of his short speach. A small puddle had formed underneath him from the dripping of the sewage water he was drenched in.

Steve saw the action and decided to see whats up. He got into his car and drove up, this would normal, but he pulled up in the General Lee. "What's up" he said in a southern accent. "Why y'all of you got guns on this man." he said

Steve saw the action and decided to see whats up. He got into his car and drove up, this would normal, but he pulled up in the General Lee. "What's up" he said in a southern accent. "Why y'all of you got guns on this man." he said

OOC: pssst....I think you got the wrong idea...these guys are in a subway tunnel...I don't think you can drive a car through...but hey, maybe it would work.....

OOC: Brydog, no more Dukes of Hazzard for you... EVER.

I'm gonna assume that mutations are acceptable.

IC:

Corporal Montag was a large man, nearly three meters tall and proportianatley broad, he was a walking mountain, now he just had to see what all the shouting was about down this tunnel...

OOC: cant...stop...fighting.....must...join...the...RP
Malac and Raven are the main PC in for me, the 4 others are just NPCs i expect they get killed quickly..how i dont mind.
The Armor looks just like the Clone Armor in star wars ep 3 but in army camo.
http://www.starwars.com/episode-iii/bts/artofrev/2005/02/img/ep3_art_670.jpg thats just incase you dont know what i mean by the armor design, theres nothing fancy about it apart from it being a NBC suit with night vision in the helmet and targeting help. Weapons are just more advanced Assault rifles with Grenade launcher undersling, clip carrys 60 rounds of AP, Standard, Shreder and Explosive.
IC:

Malac looked round it had been months since there last job, in this day and age the Merc wasnt as needed as befor. he and his team were down in the subway tunnel when the others had come, he didnt think much of it since it wasnt abnormal for people to be draged down here.
"psst, hay Malac there tooled up" the sniper in the team said, malac didnt like the sound of that.
"dam it, you 3 get your helmets on. Hex flank right, Mason flank left, Snipe stay here and give us covering fire if its needed. Raven your with me" Malac said looking round, he just noticed her putting on her helmet. He smiled but no one would see it.
The team moved out, quickly and scilently moveing around the group of men. Once in postion Malac turned on his laser sight and trained it on one of the men with a gun.
He then moved out of the shadows, "Drop your gun(s) now, dont make us kill you" he said as he steped out keeping the weapon trained on his target. Raven also steped out of the shadows along with the others surrounding the group, each with laser sights trained on a target one even on the drunk. "dont make me ask you twice people, drop them weapons and tell me what your doing here" he demanded.

OOC: Is anyone gonna' do it?

OOC: I think I'll drop out here. Looks like there's more than enough participation as it is. See you!

Joshua slipped through the shadows and noticed a group of figures. He stopped dead in his tracks, watched and listened for when the ideal time to move was. His pistol in his hand was ready to place a bullet into the closest person but he resisted the urge and watched as all but one of them moved forwards. His window had opened and he climbed through it. He rushed forth making almost no noise until he was behind the figure, whom he saw was in camo armour. He quickly placed his P14 at the base of the person’s neck (where the helmet and the armour were sperated to allow movement) and whispered where the perosn’s ear was, “Move and your helmet will be a lot more colorful on the inside than the outside.”

My bones groan with age... The aeonic slide over bedrock... At the borders of my consciousness, I know that one of the small, soft things is... necessary... The distant earthen rumbling... The cacaphony of the stars... The other small, soft things; dangerous, beaming with fear and greed. I reach out to Clinton's small, hard mind.

Do not be afraid. You will be protected. Do not move.

I begin to slowly buckle, ancient stone and fresh metal twisting under endless weight... The churning at the heart of the world... I will only condense partially: the reconstruction will not be too severe...

The passageway groans thunderously. A large slab of steel falls directly between Clinton and the armed men. Thousands of tons of stone and brick begin to collapse.

OOC: can i join?

The man jolted back to the real world his mind shattered and fragile.He looked down.He was unprepasred for what he saw,a large assault rifle cradled in his arms.

He didn't remeber any of this or what happened the last and only memory he had was driving along the highway,he had no idea which one.Then a room,a white room aand then he was hear carrying weapon.
But strangely enough there was a memory,a man known only as clinton.
He was certain he didn't know any one named clinton but he didn't care he only had one desire,and that was to kill this "clinton"

OOC: wow, I didn’t think missing it for one day could be so damaging. People popping in everywhere!

IC: Oh shit, oh shit.
It looked pretty easy at first. Oh yes it did. But then people, from nearly everywhere. Obviously out gunned, there were only two options.
1- die in a brief firefight
2- or surrender and wait.

But it was not meant to be. As if a sign from the horned rat himself for him escape. The tunnel started collapsing. He just went the ah-screw-you plan and dove towards a hole that was dug a while ago by other skaven. Thusly leaving his men to most likely die..

Iskritt seen this, knew he couldn’t get out. So proceeded to try and save his squad and himself.

“OUT GET OUT.” He emphasized this be firing 20 or so rounds into the roof. Finally the idiots got the message and just bailed out of there, whether the humans would, he wasn’t sure…

OOC: Sorry for REALLY bad post, but I missed one day and like a lot of people popped in…
BTW:
http://us.games-workshop.com/games/warhammer/skaven/gaming/campaign-gareth/images/skavenlordportrait.jpg
That’s what skaven look like...

Arnold thought quickly. He abandoned his plan of shooting up the police and decides to try and find a way out. His first thought is to get around the steel slab and find this guy, who was obviously a criminal, to maybe put a team together or something. But the steel was too big. He had to find another way out. He was fast, maybe he could just beat the tunnel. He decided there was not enough time to think of something else, so he took off, down the tracks, faster than he had ever run before.

(OOC: sorry I dont have time to post other than this.

I thought Iskritt sounded like a rats name. So you play warhammer? Did you read any of the trollslayer saga?)

(OOC: sorry I dont have time to post other than this.

I thought Iskritt sounded like a rats name. So you play warhammer? Did you read any of the trollslayer saga?)
OOC: Yes to warhammer, no to trollslayer. I have a friend who owns the entire series, but somebody is still borrowing/lost the first one(glares at Gronde)

Anyway, best not clog this with OOC

(TCMA)-BUMP

OOC:Death to the man-lings yes-yes

The man walked through the tunnel still pondering what happened to him and the city,it was all just destroyed.
But his thoughts where interrupted when he saw the man,named clinton run towards him through the tunnel.He quickly raised the weapon to face the man,he fired...click he fired again...click...click.
"Shit" he pulled out the magazine,then jammed in a new one he opened fire the shots rang,and slammed into Clintons shoulder(OOC:that ok,if not just ignore it) before clinton dived away.The man took off after him...

Arnold ran. He ran with his head down. He didn't want to see the giant chunk that would end his life, or leave him an impoverished vegetable. He ran, sometimes shaken by giant boulders landing right behind his feet. He ran and ran, he never tired. Eventually the shaking began to grow quieter, the sound of clods hitting the ground less frequent. Perhaps he was outrunning the collapse of the tunnel. He wasn't out of the woods just yet though. As long as he was inside the tunnel he was endanger of getting offed by a chunk of rock. He continued running for 10 or 15 minutes or so, and eventually began to see what maybe looked like a station. He ran full speed all the way to the steps. He slowed down and stopped at the middle, looking at a map of the network. He had run about 3 miles in 20 minutes. He continued up the steps, and when he got to the top, collapsed. He had only just realized how tired he actually was. He sat down with his head in his hands. "Hopefully I won't get shot by the cops 'cause they think I"m homeless," he thought. After several minutes, he decided to find some way back to his apartment.

OOC: What's the story so far?

OOC: you should learn to slow down, small soft thing...

OOC: Anyone want to continue?

OOC: I'm hurry, but I'm going to give other people another day to let others catch up. Then I'll keep going...

somebody post

OOC: I just noticed, the starting person has NOT posted, kinda hard to do it if he's absent. I'll wait a while, and if no one steps foreward as a replacement, I'll do it...

Corporal Montag was a criminal, he'd been a fireman at one point, before he joined the Dominion forces, after he was out he fell to crime, and since he still had his suit from when he was in the corps he could take on most cops with little trouble, which is why he was now tear-assing down a tunnel towards something nasty that was happening, and he wanted in on it.

OOC: Maybe somebody can telegram that guy or something, because I think this is a good idea, but nobody can post.

Butt
Ugly
Monkey
Pumps