CVnU: New York City

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Jina

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@vitriol:

I flew through the air, it's vision omnidirectional yet, attention focused towards my target. Too focused. I crossed the hall in a few thousands of a second, upon my prey in less than moment at speeds cameras could scarcely process, if they were even on.. But my claw hung in the air, as attempt to wrench it forward. But, I could not, for I am ensnared. I know a little of the material but it is stronger than my own musculature and I cannot break it through strength. Nor can I easily tear it or stretch it to the point of breaking, my claws rending very tiny holes that fail to do anything to compromise it's structural integrity. Most of my body is ensared, so I could not slip through it as I could other materials. My hands are too hardened to be easily morphed, as is my chest.

My six eyes converged onto this Didi, and my expressionless visage would offer her no respond. I spoke with purpose. To rob her of that annoying tenacity, it is that these humans have. To give myself opportunity to recover. And it had worked. Yet, here she lie, inches from grasp but yet out of reach. She should be dead. There should have been no possibility that this girl would ever survive me, let alone outwit me injured. Was this her plan? To bait me so that I may ignore her lackey's. Such a clever creature, you are.

But I refuse this.

Large, porous holes open all around the exposed portions of my body, and I allow the black fluid of my ichor to leak from my person. With it, my ability to control and move the molecules of my own body is made manifest as I manipulate chemical reactions to create heat. The fluid boils at my command, steam ebbing from my restraints as it slowly begins to dissolve before my functional universal solvent. I heave in, through my mouth deeply, bringing fuel for the reaction. The webbing weakens. The concrete on the ground begins to dissolve, and give way.

I move and pull trying to reach closer. The concrete buckles and the web begins to become undone. I cannot overpower it.

I grow weary, of this. Others draw near. I can feel them.

I will not suffer the same fate twice.

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Maverick_6

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@zauberin: @vitriol: Need to get a bio for this guy. Oh well. Nothing he has out of the norm.

Bullets whir and crack in the background. A constant haze of lead upon above.

"Getting a disruption in their patterns. It looks like they're moving somewhere." "Any camera feeds?"

"Nada. Whole place is fried."

"Think it's some kinda meta?" Kane O'Riley asked.

"Maybe." The reply.

They charge into Melee distance. A woman rushes him, and he gives her own in the jaw, the immense weight behind the punch buckling her knees as the takes her and restrains her, using her as a human shield. Hollow point bullets that infected police used designed to not penetrate, made home in her body as Kane lit up the ones that kamikaze charged them, running on the ground.

"Guys can't shoot for shit." Reckless expenditure leads to a gap in their fire, and Kane grins at the opportunity underneath the full body armor.

"On me."

Gaping holes flew open with each burst into the oppositions. Rounds ripped through walls and the exposed die. Civillians, police and even his fellow Maverick among those lying piled up in pools of blood on the ground. The enemy was not of nimble mind, acting on their own with little in the realm of coordination anymore, disrupted by something. Whatever coordinated them before was either gone or just not doing it anymore. Their already lackluster performance made them all the more easy to chew through, as other popped out only to get greeted with barrels full of ten gauge buckshot.

Something distant. Two. "Track it."

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Zauberin

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#12353 Zauberin  Moderator

I have no idea what the freak I'm even dealing with anymore.

This is all so exciting!

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Jina

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That was a lucky two outta three. Tails twice and I'da made it different.

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Zauberin

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#12355 Zauberin  Moderator

@jina: I don't even know what's going on!

But how would it have been different? I'm curious.

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Zauberin

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#12356 Zauberin  Moderator

He's one of us but he's...maybe a jerkface.

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Jina

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@zauberin said:

@jina: I don't even know what's going on!

But how would it have been different? I'm curious.

Jina's post is really just a long winded way to say he's trapped and trying to escape using his strain of infection.

The chance thing is that well, Riley would have gotten lost and would never really get on track to finding you. He would get delayed more and he serves as kind of cushion if you mess up against and shit hits the fan. But Didi is in a really good position. Really, you don't need to understand what is happening in the Maverick post right now. They just got a signal and are trying to find you and someone else.

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Zauberin

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#12358 Zauberin  Moderator

@jina: Ohhh, I missed the Jina post at the top of the page! (What I get for not being logged in.) I'll have to read that.

But that's great! Because if things don't go my way the next thing I was gonna do was try another radio as soon as possible!
They're trying to find Gaz, I bet. His dead ass.

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Jina

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Zauberin

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#12360  Edited By Zauberin  Moderator

Next post is gonna be like two sentences. Just...

Gets up and runs.

Which is one fragment.

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Maverick_6

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Zauberin

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#12362 Zauberin  Moderator
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Maverick_6

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Vitriol

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@jina: @maverick_6:

The action was so quick, its working effect so seemingly unlikely, that several seconds passed before Didi's realisation of what had just occurred. A slow grin spread across her face, and that too she barely noticed until the exclamation of surprise. "Ha! It worked!" Her voice bore an almost mechanical property by the mask on her face, accentuating her deep breaths and the light chuckling from her throat.

Fan-%&$#in'-tastic! That should hold it in place for now, at least disallowing the most drastic of its morphing capabilities. So many options now...Should probably run, she thought, noting the creature's attempts to expedite its freedom already in practise. Shit, he's fast. Driven. There's that cold, virus-like determination. Hardly any time to process.

Worse still, whatever it was doing, the damned thing seemed too versatile to leave it to chance and its own devices.

Still lying there, inching backwards on her hands, she looked to her left - there lie the rifle she used for balance. Then to her right - her favored Mossberg 590A1. She remembered Incident Report #3:

Despite his orders, one of our own forces (Joseph Martinez) opened fire, killing the hostage and hitting the creature. The rest followed suit, as the creature began to morph it's head, able to still continue and form blades, from it's head. It then proceeded to slash one of our heavily armored agents and thankfully, due to his armor, knocking him away. Whatever healing the factor the "infected" had, wash't enough to stave off our gunfire for long. Within seconds, subject had lost it's right armor and it's center mass seemingly had been overwhelmed by an onslaught of high velocity 12 Gauge ammunition. Rounds traveled forward at mach 4, and no further damage to staff or civillians had occurred. Even when downed, the creature was regenerating itself, but after some time, it's regeneration had halted.

Could the alpha be affected the same as the others? Only one way to find out.

Didi shrugged. Never gonna get a better chance than this.

And she pulled herself to her feet, dragging the shotgun with her, placing the edge of the 20-inch barrel almost directly against Jina's head.

She fired, bracing for the report echoing through the halls, and still couldn't stop herself staggering backwards a few steps. Steadied, chambered the next shell, and fired. Steady, chamber, fire. Steady. Chamber. Fire. Again, and again, and again until she needed to reload. She did, and then she dropped the rifle. Without a moment to waste she grabbed the rifle and took aim again, setting its fire mode to fully automatic. All of what was left in the magazine, she unloaded into the creature's body and head (if anything notable yet remained of the head), before reloading and repeating once over. In these moments, her face still remained as coldly stoic as ever. No quiet fury for the lives lost or the suffering she'd so far gone through.

But this time she didn't stop to muse over the creature, herself, or their relationship in this twisted alternative food chain. When she was done Dana calmly but quickly picked up and slung both guns over her shoulder before hobbling off again as fast as she was able.

Have to find somewhere quiet to patch up.

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Maverick_6

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@zauberin: @vitriol:

"Shots fired."

"Don't need a tracker for that."

No Caption Provided

They moved swiftly, and cautiously, still checking every last corner. Guns on every room as men cycled through each point, tapping eachother as they went along to signal the last guy with eyes on every room. They communicate with fluency and move without gaps, trained to be wary of even obscure places like vents and grates from which god knows what might pop out.

"More shots. Full auto."

"Must be some poor sod. Wonder if that thing is close by."

We're ready either way." O'Riley commented smugly beneath his face mask.

Footsteps. Not too far from the source. They communicate silently, motions being all they need to function effectively. The door would probably opens and the girl seemed liable to walk in.

She'd receive a poke from something heavy and long if she didn't see them hugging the walls walked passed too idly, seeing a Mossenberg Barrel loaded with armor piercing tungsten carbide slugs, loaded and ready to make a mockery of most man portable armor people dare refer to as "bulletproof." Behind him was . They saw her limp and wounded, and her eyes did belay some degree of humanity to it. But so did a lot of the eyes of the people that were shooting at them. After recognizing it was her, their weapons still yet remained trained.

"Still alive? Say somethin'." O'Riley was hoping she wouldn't given the murderous gaze she gave him South America. He'd see it before, and didn't too fancy being shot in the back. He knew it. He saw it. No one else was there, but he saw it.

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Soterichor

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Oh my God, actual people!

This feels like that portion of the video game.

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Jina

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The skull was malleable and by virtue of this, less durable. Most knives and swords of supernatural trauma slide through. But this was being in the face with the kinetic equivalent of over ton and a half, piercing through me. At first, it was tolerable, but she persisted. The shots from this were less clean, and each impact resonated throughout my body. Precious chunks of brain matter lost and the ability to intricately control my body's workings went with it as she scattered portions of my mind all around the room. The chest was more durable, but there was an opening in my head. Through the next, I am exposed. She shot further down the neck, through my armor and directly to vital organs beneath.

The damage is....severe. My body does not at all require organs to say, live. But they are required for more advanced purposes such as sustaining complex thought and movement. To generate a more substantial amount of energy. Without them, the fully automatic spray may as well have left me but only a step above a sentient sponge. Already. I have lost all capability of processing the world and live only in the self contained darkness of my chest cavity. Already, i can feel gaps in my memory. I can feel. I am missing something. What have I forgotten....

....I have forgotten to breath.

My body shifts, and holes used for excretion and that were created from nothing. Neural networks were restrung to make respiration possible and my body began ravenously sucking in oxygen from every exposure. Large pieces of my body clump together smaller pieces, beginning to crawl back onto where my head was, crawling into my body. I could move, but not well by even human standards. Combat was out of the question. More so, my focus must be wholly on simple survival and reconstruction of my bodily structure, and neither of these can be accomplished if I attack the humans.

So that is it then. Capture is all but inevitable. I wonder if too this means that all is lost? There are others. Drones. They still yet have sufficient mass to rejuvenate one. I am ensnared. But there is one. One who've yet to be destroyed. Who still has some semblance of humanity.

Until then, I shall spawn a set of eyes at least. Two erupted from my neck, attached to tendrils which linked to the brain matter in my body. Other means of sensory apparatus spawn and now I may at least observe what it is that occurs around me, what is to become of me, and to plan accordingly.

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Vitriol

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@maverick_6: @jina: I pressed X. Sort of.

Should I have done more? She wondered as she put more distance between herself and the carrier. An inevitable, and impossible, dilemma pf high versus low time preference. To expend more for the sake of present comfort, or to conserve, knowing that there was no way of knowing how much of the personnel was infected (as opposed to simply dead)? Yeah,there was really no telling. I could've expended everything and it still might not've died. Won't be making it back to the armory anytime soon. She checked her equipment once more and proceeded.

Didi remained on high alert as she moved about the facility, readying her gun at every corner, every intersection and every doorway before proceeding. While far from the conventional operative, she had been subject to much of the same training as the others, and if there was ever a time to heed the often-useless protocol...

Hey, when it works...

And it did. Once she'd finally found what seemed a safe enough area, she nudged the door in slowly, leading the way with the front of her rifle. Ever so slightly, nudging...and peering inside.

!!

A gasp as she finds herself likewise met with the barrel of a gun, and greatly outnumbered. Her body tensed but she didn't fire right away.

And then she heard him speak, and that changed everything.

Didi straightened up and looked at O'Riley. Deadpan: "Great. Was hoping you were dead, or at least infected so then I could kill you without the hassle." Beneath the sarcastic tones she meant it, but her words served also as a beacon to the entire squad. "It's me," they said, without releasing her from the veil of invulnerability.

Assuming all went well she'd shove her way inside and find a seat, in a chair or on the floor if none were available, and proceed on herself with a similar makeshift repair process as she had the old man--albeit taken with more care. Speaking of..."The old man. Burn the body, then meet me inside when you hear gunfire." she said into her two-way comm; and just outside the facility the synthetic soldier would comply, returning to the tipped over van to retrieve a flamethrower for clean-up. Meanwhile she broke down most of the situation as she understood it, mentioning her encounter with Jina and that it was "mostly taken care of for now," but neglected to say how or the extent to which she had.

"Alright." She stood up once damage control had been complete. "This changes everything. I need to get back outside, to the armory, and you need to protect me. Lose me, lose everything. The cure," tapping fingers on her cranium, "is all up here. No one else." And she started for the door, hurried but in her usual composed, professional manner. "To the armory, then the lab. Lost my HIV. Need to get it back. Probably in the lab under my desk. Escort please."

The trail of her own blood drippings was easy enough to retrace even through the unfamiliar facility, Dana leading the charge following the same protocol that'd led her to the men. All the way to the crimson puddle where she'd rested, left not far from where Jina now lie. Her arm snapped up in a "halt" motion. "Hold, stay back but train your weapons. I need more for the cure. Doubt I killed it but if this goes wrong...well, least you get a head start."

No Caption Provided

Activating her biometric scanner, she approached Jina, eyes roaming over its body. Searching, for what might be discerned as a central neural network (or whatever passed as one for this thing), noting the sensory organs previously eradicated and reformed. Crow's feet at the edges of her eyes told of a hidden smile. Good. She spoke in a whisper, confidence showing once more for having her adversary in a precarious position. "I've heard you speak so I know you understand as well. Our fates are linked. If I die, so do you. You die, your drones all eradicated along with you. All carriers, cured. The only way you go on to propagate any further is if you hold still and let me do what I need to do."

Working with what she thought to be the "brain," she'd jam the needle in. Deep. She would be rough, both in order to ensure what she got was adequate, and as a form of payback for what she had gone through. Her sample would be drawn. An important research tool, and hopefully one which would comprise enough material to carry consciousness itself. Dana Kitajima took her fill, placed the ampules in her pack, stood up, and stepped back.

Then she opened fire again, emptying the rifle just as before. She fired and reloaded several times over until she'd completely depleted the ammunition stores. Then she pumped a few more shells from her shotgun. And when she had finished that, she gave the motion; just as before, the MORS now standing beside her would commence clean-up with the flamethrower.

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Agent_Sarah_Castillo

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No Caption Provided

New York-Presbyterian-Hospital, ICU

No Caption Provided

The room was silent, lights dimmed and blinds closed as the only sounds inside the chilled room was rhythmic sounds of the beeping tele-monitor and the hissing of the ventilator pushing oxygen into Castillo's tracheostomy could be heard. It was still an unknown mystery how Sarah actually survived the attack of The Connoisseur. Doctors who were assigned to her case swear it was a miracle, that there was no logical explanation on how she was brought back to life after having the life literally squeezed out of her, but here she was. To her partner, Crews, it was because Sarah was just too stubborn to die. But her survival, came at a cost.

Yes, Sarah was alive, for now, but she would never be able to walk again if she survived the recovering process. The crushing of The Connoisseur's arms broke Castillo's spine in three places, with one of them cutting right through her spinal cord. But that wasn't all. Her ribs were all fractured (which caused a pneumothorax and lead to a pneumonia), her arms were crushed, her pelvis was broken in two, she was suffering from temporary blindness in her bilateral eyes (which was slowly coming back) and she was slowly internally bleeding from one of the ribs puncturing into her spleen, normally she would have bled out by now, but the puncture wound was small enough that, yes, it was bleeding, but at a slow rate. She would have been rushed into surgery the moment she got to the hospital, but because of her spinal injury, the pneumonia, the fact that her chest is so severely damaged and her diaphragm is currently paralyzed from the injuries that she now has a tracheotomy with air being pumped into it 24/7 and her heart still recovering, the surgeons couldn't risk it. But now, her hemoglobin was dropping below 6, and the need for a transfusion was unavoidable. But this was another issue, Castillo blood type was one of the rare types, O Negative, which means she could only receive O Negative blood, however, because of the chaos that The Connoisseur brought to the city and all the citizens that were severely injured during it, the blood bank was critically low on blood and had no O Negative blood to give.

So now Castillo laid quietly in her room, slowly dying and unable to be helped. Due to her pain (and against her wishes) Sarah was placed on high doses of pain killers. Staying awake was difficult for her and conversing was even harder due to the pain medication. But there her brother Carlos sat next to her, the vato with his skinned head and tattoos of Santa Muerte along the right arm exposed as he simply wore his baggy jeans and a wife beater that would get occasional stares from nurses and doctors that came into the room to check on Castillo. Even against the wishes of Sarah and his other brothers, he quietly stayed by her side. He wasn't her blood type, and the one brother who was, Esteban, was deceased. The Norteno gangster lifestyle wasn't one they wanted for their little sister, because of the dangers of it, but here she was either way, a police officer and now dying a slow death in a hospital where doctors were unable to help her.

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Special_Agent_Crews

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@agent_sarah_castillo:

No Caption Provided

"Priyanka, you need to go home and rest" Carlos' voice shattered the peace of mind she'd built up over the hours. Almost no one called Crews by her first name, probably because no one actually knew it, no one but Castillo and her family.

"Carlos, I can't" She retreated, turning her eyes back to her downed partner and best friend. He tried his hardest to plead with the Indian Born officer resulting in a full on break down. "I CAN'T GO HOME CARLOS!" She screamed now with frantic red tears soaring down her face. "I-I CAN'T GO HOME. I.... DON'T HAVE ANY ONE ELSE" She finally managed to spit almost trembling in fear.

Carlos knew what she was getting at, he knew Crews' mother still lived in Northern California; but what she didn't know was that her daughter was addicted to cocaine. Cocaine he supplied at one point. When Castillo found out, she kicked both of their asses', and forced Crews into her own weird little 'Cold Turkey' program.

She didn't belong to a massive family, nor did she have any siblings, it pained her to see her friend slowly dying in a bed. Carlos wiped the tears from his 'sisters' eyes before moving back toward his actual sister.

"Get this...they say the only other person that had o- blood got ran over by a car" His words pained Crews more especially since it was Castillo who ran the guy over.

"I-I have a confession" Her staement drawing the attention of both Carlos and the Nurse. "I'm O-" Carlos' face lit up in jubilation before falling into a look of betrayal. "Why'd you wait so long to say something?!"

"It's not that simple...my blood is tainted. It has chemicals in it. I'm not going to go much further. But I'll only do it, if Sarah Agrees"

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Agent_Sarah_Castillo

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@special_agent_crews:

The panic voice of Crews caused Sarah to stir, her heart rate jumped from the 70’s to 88 as her eyes struggled to flutter open. While her neck was in a C-Spine brace still, her eyes darted around the room, trying to find her partner only to see shapes of colors thanks to her retinal injuries as well. The pain medication made it so hard to do anything, when she was awake it was hard for her to tell what was actually happening and what was just the drugs causing her to hallucinate. But she knew this was real. Was Crews ok?

She heard the two of them speaking to each other as Carlos walked up to her, grasping her hand. She could feel his hand… kind of. She could feel pressure is more of what she could feel. She could feel the pressure of something touching her skin, but she couldn't tell what it was, if it was a needle, a hand, another monitor being hooked up to her, another IV line being placed and that was just on her upper part of her body. Her lower half? She couldn’t feel anything. She couldn’t feel the blankets that covered her feet, she couldn’t feel the pressure cuffs that were wrapped around her calves to prevent blood clots, she couldn’t feel when the doctors poked at her toes with a sharp object, she couldn’t feel anything and for the first time, in a long time, she was terrified.

Her dry lips parted, forcing a smile on her tired and unnaturally pale face. “Crews.” she spoke, her voice sounding like she smoked five packs of cigarettes since she was five. It was the tracheostomy that was causing this. Staying awake was hard, but speaking? Something that was once so simple was now a challenge. Her brows pressed against each other as she struggled to get herself to speak and looked as if she was carefully choosing her next set of words. “I’m not… dead… yet…. b!tch.” she spoke slow, a couple of words or even a word a time, partly because of the tracheostomy, part because of the ventilator and part because of her injured diaphragm and infection in her lungs. She couldn’t help but give a weak, smirking grin. This was the most she spoke since the attack.

Carlos looked at Priyanka before turning his attention to his baby sister. “Sarita.” Carlos began. “Priyanka is O-, like you sis. Pedo, something about chemicals, in her blood. I don’t-”

He stopped speaking as Sarah gave him a “Shut the funk up you idiot”look. Which everyone knew so well. “I know.” She spoke before looking over to Priyanka. “Why do… you think… I agreed... to have you… as my partner?” She joked as she smiled wide as she tried to laugh, only to feel a surge of pain from her broken ribs hit her like a hot needle. She grit her teeth, trying to push through the sudden onset of pain that still somehow spiked with all the pain medication she was on. It was more than anything she felt for the last few days she had been laying in this bed.

“Ms. Castillo, you need to calm down, you’re overexerting yourself.” The nurse spoke, trying to calm the situation down only to get a “Who the funk is this?” look from Sarah.

“It’s your nurse Sarita.” Carlos spoke only to have Sarah roll her eyes.

“Ms. Castillo, your friend has generously offered to give you a blood transfusion. One that you need in order to pull through this. We can’t guarantee you’ll make it without it. But you need to approve of it.”

Sarah’s tired eyes looked over at Priyanka. Even though she couldn’t see details on her partners face, could tell there was conflict in her eyes. ”Leave me… and Priyanka.” Her eyes never shifted away from her sister as she heard the footsteps of the nurse and her brother walk out of the room, followed by the closing of the door.

“Are you… sure… you want to… do that?” Sarah hated that it took her so long to say a simple sentence. She knew Priyanka wouldn’t have said anything about her blood type. Not unless she she thought it out… to a certain degree. But this was a big decision. “I don't want… you to… feel obligated.” She tried to adjust herself, only to meet resistance from her other injured body parts. "We dont know... what will... happen." She paused for a moment, letting the ventilator push more oxygen into her lungs. "And I don't... want you... to feel guil...ty... if something.... happens... to me." There was no way to tell if her blood would help Sarah, or kill her. Even if it did help her, would that mean Sarah would end up like Piryanka with Fissure? Would doing nothing and dying in this bed in a hospital of all placed be any better? She didn't want Piryanka to feel like she had to offer. She didn't want her to feel guilty or obligated or anything, because they both had no clue if a blood transfusion would make things better, or worse, and she didn't want that kind of guilt on her woman she saw as her sister.

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Special_Agent_Crews

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@agent_sarah_castillo:

No Caption Provided

Though the circumstances were less than optimal, Crews loved seeing a smile caked across the ashy lips of Castillo. The brutal reparte between the two women continued even with Castillo hooked up to a "cyborg" machine as Crews often called it.

The topic of her blood type came up, it was almost as if the atmosphere had been completly sucked from the room; leaving the two woman with a suffocating choice to make. Out of the two Crews was more emotionally unstable, though Castillo was the only person to ever wade through the river of sexual innuendo's to discover the root problem. She wanted to tell her, but she just couldn't not right now. Not while the delicate line of life and death begin to wither in favor of death. Danny was dead, murdered ; she didn't know all the specifics, but it was confirmed that he was killed--shot in the chest.

"You've really placed me in a bind..." She started with her Indian accent settling in each word. "I can't do this on my own" Crews moved from her standed position to the chair right next to Castillo, cupping the hand of her partner/sister; she did her best to refrain from tearing up.

"I don't know what my blood will do to you; but if there's a slight chance that it could save your life...I-I think we should consider all our options" Finally tears begin to soar down her face; even though it didn't effect her speech too much it was sort of a defining moment in their relationship.

Castillo had seen Crews cry many times before; mostly from bad sex experiments, but more intimatly during the times of her abusive husband. And when Castillo forced Crews off the drugs. Castillo built up this fortress of "latina immortality". On the streets of mere men and women she seemed like a goddess, never in a million years did Crews expect to see Castillo like this.

No Caption Provided

"You know I think about Fissure, and why it was me and not you. You deserved her in the first place." She started, looking down side-sweeping her hair with her hands.

"You're the better cop, you've always have been. You get results, and as far as you and I go. You're definatly the better friend. Sarah...I'm willing to do whatever you want to do to save your life. Because I know I won't have a life if you lose yours"

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Agent_Sarah_Castillo

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@special_agent_crews:

Sarah listened silently to Crews, not that she had a choice. Speaking sucked out so much energy, that she needed to built what she lost so she could b!tch out Crews when she was done crying. Honestly, they both needed each other, it wasn’t a one way street. Castillo’s relationship with her family was rough. All but one of her brothers were involved in Norteno, both parents (and a brother) in Mexico, unable to come to the United States after being deported all those years ago, so she rarely got to see them. Family was almost non-existent for her. But Crews? She had been there for Castillo since the day they met, just like she was for her, she was her family when her own family wasn’t. Castillo’s birthday that she never celebrated? Crews did, and every other holiday, even the Mexican Holidays that she never celebrated even as a child, like Day of the Virgin Guadalupe, any reason for the two to go out and have fun. Well… fun for Crews. Castillo was usually busy trying to spartan kick any man who tried to take advantage of a drunk Crews. But not only that, she was the reason Castillo continued to be a cop. She made her a better officer. The trust they had between the two, she knew she had her back, no matter what circumstances they were in. She trusted no one else like she did with Crews. Sure they fought, and argued, and b!tched about each other back and forth, but Crews gave Castillo a type of reassurance whenever they wen't out, that no mater what, someone was watching out for her. Then there was the fact that Crews somehow conviced her to seek out anger management when Castillo found out her brother (Arturo) wasn't paying any of his child support while still getting women pregnant and beat him into a coma that lasted for a week. The help only lasted for about a month, but the point is... Crews was just as big of part of Castillo’s life as Castillo was to Crews. Now it was very real that, that chapter in their lives was going to close.

Sarah tried to shake her head, to show she disagreed with Crews. “Why the funk… would I want… A Fissure… when I… already had… you?” She weakly squeezed Crews hand. “You helped me… become stronger… because I had to be…. Otherwise… you would have… gotten your @ss… kicked.” She joked, trying to get Crews to smile. “And you’re… a funking fan-...tastic... cop. After All… you learned from… the best… me.”

She laid silently for a moment, looking through her blurred eyes at Crews. She could feel her throat begin to swell with fear. Not fear of death. But fear that something would happen to her sister when she passed. She wouldn’t be there to help Crews anymore. She wouldn’t be there to help anyone anymore. She looked away from Crews for a moment as she parted her cracked lips. “I can’t… be there for… you… forever… We all… are here until… Santa Muerte... comes for us. ” But her eyes shift back to Crews. This didn't have to be the end. She could very well live with the blood transfusion. Was she ready to leave this life?

“But funk Santa… Muerte… I’m not ready… to die… lets…. Do that… blood transfusion.”

“But” Her cold, clammy hands grasped onto Crews hand just a bit tighter as she struggled to pull her closer to her. “No matter… what happens… if I die..” She took a moment, looking intensely at Crews. “And you… funking… do something…. Stupid… I will… haunt your… skinny… brown @ss... got it?”

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Kano_Valentine

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I ships.

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Special_Agent_Crews

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@agent_sarah_castillo:

We're done for now
We're done for now

The entire time Sarah spoke, Crews could only listen; though she did manage to react through a series of facial expressions.

When it was all said and done, Crews said nothing; she simply gave Sarah a reassuring smile--as if to say she promised.

Pinning her hair up, she prepared for the operation, though she couldn't show it anymore; not with Castillo brimming with confidence now. As the nurse came to escort the two of them in the room, where the procedure would take place, she thought back to Danny's murder; and the plethora of events transpiring around them.

"You know we like to dive into things that are well over our level of responsibility. But this could put us both down for a while." She didn't understand what the recovery process for something like this was; but with the Force left broken in the aftermath of Danny's death the dynamic duo needed a break.

"You can lay in the bed when you're ready Ms.Crews" The nurse said, preparing to put them both under.

"We're done for now Sarah, we'll smash heads some other time." Leaning over the bed, Crews placed a small kiss on the forehead of her partner before heading back to her bed.

"I hope I don't still have H.I.V" which drew a glare from the nurse. "I'm so kidding...."

"It was Gonneria"

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Agent_Sarah_Castillo

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Sarah laid on her bed after the procedure. Her eyes looking over at Crews with a weary smile as she walked out of the room, but not before making a joke. This might be the last time Sarah would Priyanka, because the effects of her blood, wouldn’t take place right away. Would her body reject the blood? Would her body accept it? Would the chemicals in her blood injure her heart? Her brain? Was she going to need dialysis to try and clear the blood later on? Would it actually kill her than help her? These were questions that should have been asked beforehand. But there was no time. Sarah’s time was almost up and Crews came in just in time rescue her. Guess there’s a first time for everything, huh?

“Hey-O Castillo!” A familiar voice called out to her. Her eyes looked around the room, she thought she was alone. “How are you feeling?” Then, she saw him, Danny? Wearing his usual blue vest with a buttoned up shirt and those khaki pants he loved so much.

“Danny?” She spoke, her voice still rough, deep, almost mechanical like.

“I brought a gift.” He held up a single little paper plate that had a donut with pink frosting and sprinkles, setting it down on a mayo stand not too far from her. He walked over to a seat that was next to her bed. “You’re gonna be fine Sarah.” Danny’s pudgy hand pressed against Castillos. “You just gotta keep fighting, alright?”

“Heh… alright Danny… just for… you” She spoke, for once not verbally assaulting Danny. He was nice enough to actually come visit her, the least she could do was not tease him.

“Good.” The long time officer nod his head before standing up. But then… something happened… her vision, it became clear. Her eyes, for the first time since the accident, focused on Danny’s face and she could… see him! Shock came over her, she didn’t expect results so quickly. Before she could say anything, the nurse walked in with a tray filled with goodies just for Castillo.

“How are you holding up Ms. Castillo? You should be feeling more alert, and even a little stronger.” The nurse gave a smile as she began to adjusted Sarah’s IV.

Sarah only nodded, as if she agreed with her, for once. But as the nurse walked away from Sarah, she looked over to Danny only to find him… gone. She didn’t even hear him leave. Laying for a moment, her mind began to wonder. If she got her vision back already, then her body was healing itself, and quickly. Her eyes looked down at the bed where her toes where. She knew it was crazy, there was no logical way that she would be able to move again. Three different doctors told her so. But... what if.

“Oh, your brother wanted me to tell you that he went to go get some dinner, he should be back soon. Is there anything else I can get for you Ms. Castillo?”

Her eyes never shifted away from the bed as a small, subtle movement was seen to happen under the blankets. Tears began to swell in her eyes. Funking Crews and her funking chemical infused blood. "No... I’m good.”

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Zauberin

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#12377 Zauberin  Moderator

This has been very touching.

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Maverick_6

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#12378  Edited By Maverick_6

“Check fire. It’s her.”

He motions down and everyone else lower their weapons, letting her in. Everyone hugging walls in corners of the room to make themselves out of view to any onlookers, and every window and door is covered. Whole room is locked down.

“Funny out of everyone, you’re the one that makes it out.” He likes having a full helnet on. It confers nothing if his face, offering only audible ques and action in attempts to descipher him. But, the situation spoke for itself. She was important. The only human, seeming uninfected survivor they had thus far encountered. The only source of intel they had on the place. And a scientist sent to study the thing no less. Who knows exactly what it was she knew.

He sighed exparatedly as she began performing first aid on herself, listening to her all the while, the one phrase aboyt the old man setting of alarms.

“Doesn’t sound suspicous a all.” The sarcasm in his voice obvious. “But we’ll get to the bottom of that later.” They wanted to know about the situation. Fron what Didi relayed, it seemed dire. They’d little in the idea of what exactly was stifling their COMM range and making it so hard to communicate outside of the place. There wasn’t really much time fot any CSI work and being that this was a CSI lab, it’s probably gonna be hard to get another one to come over here. Hell, at this rate, they definitely are gonna need to get the CSDC in on this faster than one could say “Anthrax.” People starting to drop for no reason was also curious. Reports of the virus being airborn could be confirmed. But it seemed to be all but gone from the air when they scanned it. Not only this, but it might not be strong enough to penetrate the skin. The most concerning part they garner is that the head honcho or more formally, the Alpha target is hear, and it would explain as to why a few squads of S.W.A.T. and some of their own got killed off so quickly. What it doesn’t explain is how in the hell out of everyone, she is alive. Luck, it’s seem.

“Alright. Let’s see the big guy.”

O’Riley casually walks past her, shoving her out the way if she doesn’t move out of the lead so that he can take point. Didi would be moved to the safest position in the middle as the squad formed up, and she was allowed to backseat drive as they went and followed the pile of blood she pointed to. He was quick to notice that as close as they were getting to thing, they didn't find a single soul. No aggressors to oppose their advance.

Where the **** is everyone? Where are the bodies? The hostiles?

(It is at this point that a coin was flipped :P)

This wasn’t supposed to be that kind of mission. Not yet at least. He was supposed to be able to prepare, to find information on the things and then find the best method of fighting it. Such was Maverick’s methodology. To walk into any threat prepared to smack down the enemy with what could be amounted to the surgical application of brute force. A craftsman hitting the nail on head. And if they didn’t know how to beat it, they poked and prodded until they knew how to beat it. There were few, that ever poked back until today. That looked for their weaknesses, and struck them when most vulnerable.

He was almost out ammo. One magazine left on his Maverick made Kalashnikov Carbine, and it was sitting in the rifle with a rouns chambered. 30 more rounds for his H&K MK 23 SOCOM. The infected were in this part of the building in droves as whatever the hell that thing was left. This is great.

An army of what may as well be zombies, with none of the frailty, all of the strength and who shot at you. Granted, they weren’t very good shots but the sheer volume a squad could put out to one individual was enough to compensate. The fact that there wasn’t much cover around that could block it all made it worse. So he had to settle for concealment as he sat underneath a desk in a crowded office. Slowly, he screwed a silencer onto his gun, and withdrew his knife from it’s sheath. Clearly, his enemies were numerous. They were stronger and in other cases, faster. Many other aspects were unknown, but he knew of two edges he had, strategy and equipment.

*THUNK**

He watched the boots from underneath the desk, watching as it over turned a table and waved the rifle around, still searching. Gradually he noticed other feet growing near. Was there a leak in his armor? A hole? Full sealed body armor meant heat. Sweat. He wouldn't be surprised if they could smell him.

Now or never.

*Fwoop*

The round through the desk and one of them drops for seemingly no discernable reason. The others move….slowly towards it. As if they couldn't tell why it dropped. They were so coordinated before. More coordinated than anyone with their repo'd by some virus ever was. But there was no time to question it. This is opportunity.

Roll out laying prone. Raise sights. Breath in, and out. The end of the exhale, during the body's natural respiratory pause, quick, relaxed trigger squeezes. *Fwoop fwoop fwoop fwoop* The advanced silencer negates the noise of his bullet to hollywood proportions. Time spent on the range with such a familiar weapon and steady breathing nets four .45 rounds finding homes in the heads of the enemy. 3 drop. One of them, blood oozing from the room, only briefly looks him dead in the eyes through the gas mask. Before another shot drops him.

The desk is chopped in half, and his body jumps at the noise as though he'd been shot. He wondered if he'd been found again, by that thing. He was out of flashbangs, and that would make dealing with the speed and accuracy…improbable.

He slowly peaked out. The sight something else. It wasn't it. It was something else. Female figure, civilian clothes. Much further down the line, more drastic mutation. There was just a mass of blades tendrils where her head would be. Muscle in her body was oddly refined given her lithe frame. The others had an almost handicapped saunter in the way that they walked. As though they lacked full body coordination, twitching occasionally and sporadically. As if the mind still resisted being torn apart and overridden. But this one stood fully erect. A casual grace in her every motion as she shoved desks aside. It made a chittering noise, and room became like unto an ocean as they flooded in.

Is every goddamm infected in building in here??

*Click* *RATATATATATATATA*

He drops the pin to the white phosophorus grenade to the ground as he chucks it. A wall of white smoke erupts all around and all who contact it are set ablaze, as the particles burn flesh down to the very bone upon contact. The range of the grenade is 35 feet. And his armor hided him from it's effect. The woman, carries herself up to the ceiling as blades emb themselves in the walls, but Gaz's attention is forced to the ones all around them. A few penetrate the smoke in armor. Short controlled bursts of the Kalishnkov put them down. Mutation not drastic enough to put them beyond taking too many body shots for organs to function. A few offhanded shots at the woman. One hits. *Ping ping* He heard the noise of the blades deflecting them, but scarcely saw the movement.

More gunfire. Bullets fail him again as he meets one of his own. A guy in type 3A level ballistic resistance armor. His armor, on the otherhand; was not nearly so heavy and nore so geared to keeping out things smaller than bullets. He could never dodge a bullet, but jumping a desk made him a difficult target as the rounds missed him. The man chases after the lone survivor, gun waving and stuck out forward. Like an amateur.

The gun gets grabbeda and a clinche follows. His arms wrapped around the armored individual and too close to be shot it, the muzzle is steered wildly all about the room, bullets holes appearing all about. Before finally, he gets in a good position and tosses the guy over his hips, slickly pulling the pin on one of the infected's grenades before he books it.

Glass ruptures outward as Gaz's body shoots out the window,the ensuing explosion erupting behind him on que as if this way some kind action movie , as he descends two stories from the ground. The only thing that would be out of place in such a movie is the sickening crack heard when Gaz hits the ground with an improper roll. A brief swear ensuing. His breathing heavy, as he knows what can follow next. He doesn't waste time, his pain driving him out of desperation as he crawls along the ground. Trying to find cover. Bullets sail overhead as he manages to crawl in a parking lot. But one noise warranted as much dread.

*Thump*

She landed without any apparent damage to her body, the mass of tendrils waving ominously about as it took a moment to scan the area. One slash shoves a car aside. Another slash meets another car. And in another, Gaz is revealed to it.

*Pingpingpingping*

All that aim, the kind that lands headshots with fifty percent success. And she just swats them away. He doesn't even know how the thing sees the rounds coming, but it didn't matter. Nothing much really seemed to matter. At that point.

*Click click click*

Empty.

By the time he reached for the extra clip, the blade already found it's way into his lower abdomen. He gacked up blood under his mask as he dropped his magazine. Rational thought leaves him and images of his past become one blur in a long line to now. What did he have to fight for? Some drive to bring him further? The legendary Eric Bradshaw had his entire family killed before he truly became a slayer of metamen. In a moment of calm, he couldm't help but wonder if he needed something similar to move his arms. To do something. Anything. That a small chance.

It's a job.

His rises from the ground for a second, as the blade is withdrawn, before falling to the floor. The creature orients it's body, facing towards the master who gad just been bested. In it's silence, it hears ticking.

At that moment, it notices a semtex stuck to it's bloody blade.

*Boom*

The creature’a blade had blown odc it's body as it was riddled with shrapnel and the hand shoots out to grab the clip. His vision swims and he struggles to orient the rounds into the gun. But once insert, he rolled d swerved on the ground, rolling onto his stomach as he focuses. Remembers the basic drills hammered into his head so much that he didn't need to consciously think. He vision focused on the fun. And the target became a stumbling blurb before him. Breath in. Breath out. Pull the trigger.

Holes appeared all over the target and around half the steam hit the target. It stumbled, not dead but seemingly rendered half retarded by bullets embing tjemselves in whatever passed for brain matter. The chopping blade was slow enough that Gaz could roll to evade it. No more ammo. Whip out the SOCOM and start firing. Limbs came off and he didn't question it. Only after he ran out of bullets sid he realize others were firing. A squad with sniper somewhere off behind him tore the thing to pieces with their rounds. Limb after limb came off. The blades broke.

By the time they were done, it looked like a pile of ripped calamari. Tendrils twitching and flopping like fish. Blood staining the humanoid woman's ruined hole filled coat. He saw men move up in front of him as he felt himself hoisted off the ground.

Then everything went black.

….

O’Riley look at the thing as it looked back with eyes spawned on it's body in response to the absence of a head. Tattered clothes indicative of some kind of human identity. A body shaped like some kind of superpredator rather a man or mutant. His knee jerk instinct told him to destroy it. But he didn't know how many there were. How it spread How It Worked. Was it a leader or just a pawn. He didn't know.

He would never verbally admit it, but he needed Didi to find out. The most important question now was if it could escape. Who better to test it than her. She just walked right over to it.

They guarded the room and watched her take samples of the thing. It was suspected that she would wanna keep it, and the whole teamed was a bit relieved that she didn't want the thing. Execution was prompt and without any real objection.

"That's that. We have what we need. Let's move."

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Jina

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@vitriol:

So I am here. Merely as a result of a single stray shot.

But ultimately, how I got here only bears so much relevance to my future. For my blood to melt the restraints would take too much time. My sensory apparatus is has sufficiently reformed that I can sense their coming. And my body is too tough, to durable to be broken down adequately for any amount of me to survive. From their actions, it would seem they have choosen to not destroy me. The adequate resources certainly exist, as I can hear his pleading. I can observe his agony. His thoughts whir in his mind. Like a chorus of agony.

“You bastard. Y-You promised-“

Blood oozes from his wound. He has no strength in him. So he crawls as it approaches

“That ****ing pompous bitch. I’ll…I'll…”

Voices in his mind are hardly all his own. Memories flood in. Children laughing. Cheering. Clapping. Moaning. Dogs barking. Bickering. Crying. A female voice mouthing “I love you”repeatedly throughout the swirling storm. Nerves fire in his mind not unlike a storm. His “will” is ultimately irrelevant in compelling his movement to any level considered.

“This isn't fair. I was supposed to get a…second chance. How do I die and yet she…?”

His thoughts whir to his executor. The lack of human eyes to interface with. How the world is being protected by monsters. Where is his champion? He contemplates the meaning of justice. Of karma. A small part of his takes solace in that Didi may be dead. He convinces himself halfway that justice will be delivered.

“Oh god…”

Moments later, his thoughts become incoherent. More like an animsl than like a man. He does nothing but think of his pain. He screams, a slave to his synapses as his body destroys any sense of order in his mind, and his even his hate is overcome by the stresses of his body. Moments more, and his body calms. His nervous system is destroyed. The developing organic structures within him that relay information degrade as his mind is consequently destroyed with his brain.

“Unfair.”

All semblance of consciousness is obliterated. He did not have sufficient opportunity to develop any drastic mutation that allows for recovery or further mutation. In my current state, I have no means of communicating with any microganisms that remain. They lack the ability to process compmex information as the brain does. Regeneration would be fruitless irregardless.

My communicarion with others is severed. They operate based upon my instruction with no coordination. No true sentience to adequately guide them They delay nost aggressor, but I can hear one team coming. And I am greeted wirh familiarity among one of them.

Didi.

They are all well armed enough. They can destroy me at any time if they wish and could have if they wanted to, for I am ensared. But they do not. Because they know too little of me, of what I am capable of. And so, they endeavor to capture me for study. As she had done before with what they found. As they all had. Despite all the surprises that they had, humans still remain predictable in some ways. Consistencies lie in their behavior, even if they differ in the grand picture.

My time in my study of them allowed me to spot the jovial grin on her face, and her voice only further confirms my assessment as she speaks to me, aware from the moment I attempted to demoralize her. To make her easier prey at my brief moment of vulnerability from being shot in the head. I realize my position, and she reaffirms this as she mentions my fate is interlinked with her own. That I am at her mercy. And indeed, I am. For now at least.

However, among the order, there is chaos. Inconsistency. In her voice, I distinguish a sort of benevolence within it. Allow me to propegate. She speaks of me as if I am virus. Perhaps I am. Perhaps, she will tell me. There is much uncertainty, but fear and pain serve me no practical purpose when I’ve the skill to preserve myself without it. But curiosity, compels me to learn more of the world around me , and all that lies within.

My neural fluid takes on a liquid texture. Slowly, mixed with blood, my “ichor” as I vaguely recall, I slowly enter the needle, taking with me the most vital and necessary of memories and ensuing I have the time to sort through my psyche. My viscocity is selectively controlled to impede and to speed up her harvest of my essence at my leisure. And within minutes, I am in her possession. It is my only real choice, and I obey.

She is far stranger than any mutant I have thus subsumed. More chaotic than any being I can recall encountering. So I wonder;

What will you do with me now, Didi?

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Zauberin

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#12380  Edited By Zauberin  Moderator

@maverick_6: You picked a perfect time to post because my hand was injured today so I'll have to do more reading/watching than typing. This is good.

I haven't read it yet. But it's good that you responded. And I'll assume the best from you until proven otherwise.

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Jina

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Zauberin

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#12382  Edited By Zauberin  Moderator

@jina: Thanks to your navy guys! (And also thanks to depression, and life, and...things.) But we finished it! And I'm so delighted I intend to give it a blog/epilogue. At some point hopefully soon.

Voices in his mind are hardly all his own. Memories flood in. Children laughing. Cheering. Clapping. Moaning. Dogs barking. Bickering. Crying. A female voice mouthing “I love you”repeatedly throughout the swirling storm. Nerves fire in his mind not unlike a storm. His “will” is ultimately irrelevant in compelling his movement to any level considered.

“This isn't fair. I was supposed to get a…second chance. How do I die and yet she…?”

His thoughts whir to his executor. The lack of human eyes to interface with. How the world is being protected by monsters. Where is his champion? He contemplates the meaning of justice. Of karma. A small part of his takes solace in that Didi may be dead. He convinces himself halfway that justice will be delivered.

This may be my favorite part of this last pair of posts. Especially the underlined part. There's like a solemn satisfaction. I feel bad for him, but I'm glad for it. Good job giving his kind of depth to a side lackey even as he became ultimately...expendable. Not meaningless. But expendable.

This was a delight. And I do have plans.

Also I'd like to outline my ideas for the cure. Which may be covered whenever I type a follow-up for what she's up to next, or I may outline it in that PM.

You didn't tell me if Gaz is dead or if he can be saved!

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Maverick_6

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Also I'd like to outline my ideas for the cure. Which may be covered whenever I type a follow-up for what she's up to next, or I may outline it in that PM.

Hit me.

You didn't tell me if Gaz is dead or if he can be saved!

Oh, but I did.

Look at the second spoiler.

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Jina

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#12384  Edited By Jina

@zauberin:

This may be my favorite part of this last pair of posts. Especially the underlined part. There's like a solemn satisfaction. I feel bad for him, but I'm glad for it. Good job giving his kind of depth to a side lackey even as he became ultimately...expendable. Not meaningless. But expendable.

Yeah. I thought a little bit about if you spared him, and then he might have come back as a villain or a second/the "new" Jina.

So I gave him a little bit of depth in the sense of just thinking about what kinda death I'd give a normal person. I sort of just looked to other media to see how they made characters meaningful.

Basically, I just think it's kind of weird that only protagonists matter on CV seemingly. Even when you play a game, or watch a movie, side characters matter. That's how I simplify looking at it. Just thinking of how a guy in his situation would react.

I also have experience on the Maverick side, given that I often think about how horrifying it must be for an NPC to live through any number of destructive events/empire claims. Always an angle I wanted to narrate. This was good practice.

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Zauberin

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#12385 Zauberin  Moderator

@maverick_6: I saw that! But it just says "everything went black." I don't know if he's dead, or just passed out and could possibly be saved...I'll do the surgery myself if I have to!

Or he could be the subject of my next experiment, the other follow-up.

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#12386  Edited By Grimmwald

@hawkshade

No Caption Provided

Perched on the edge of a building rooftop, Grimmwald swept the streets below into his gaze. He breathed in sharply through his nose, pulling the night air into his lungs and smelled something foul. It was the city. It wreaked of crime. Of muggers painting their knuckles red in uneven strokes of their victim's blood. Of abusive husbands strangling their wives to the brink of death. New York wasn't Gothic City - but it was still New York. On his own, Grimmwald was nothing against the appetite of a ravenous city. His ruby eyes frowned at the city, and his heart cursed it for how cruelly it twisted the hearts of men. On his own he could do little. But there was one man with whom all could be changed. A man he'd fled the Strigidae for. A brother. He'd called him, and watched the streets below as he waited.

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Hawkshade

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Damn that was atmospheric.

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Grimmwald

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@grimmwald:

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Crime was up in the USA for the eighth consecutive quarter. Social trust was at an all time low. Extremists of every flavor multiplied in the cracks and crevices of the world wide web. Conspiracy theories were rampant.

NYC wasn't Gothic. Yet.

When his brother called he answered. The Heir of Shadows walked from the pools of darkness untouched by the flickering halogen street lights into the circular glow of a single feeble bulb above the roof exit.

"Kellan."

He smiled.

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Grimmwald

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@hawkshade:

Behind him, a cowl as black as night climbed out from the rooftop's shadowed edges. Turning round, body moving like a boneless contortionist, Grimmwald locked eyes with his brother. "Don't say it so loud", Grimmwald frowned, his ruby eyes catching the light bulb's weak glow as the paranoia rolled off his tongue. They'd been hunted by the Strigidae for what felt like an eternity. He couldn't go back. Not while he was needed by those too weak to fend for themselves. God... the Strigidae would flay him for such a thought. But he didn't care. And try as he may, he couldn't fight the smile his mouth pulled back into. "It's only fair if I repay the favor, Richard", his smile widened, like a saucer.

"I need your help. I've been watching this city. Doing what I can. It's not enough", he sighed, "I need to do more. But I can't do more without your help. Other than Gothic, no city suffers more from metahuman villain culture than New York".

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Hawkshade

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@grimmwald:

Hawkshade accepted the implied reprimand with a nod of acknowledgement and a smile while he watched Grimmwald turn with a fluid grace. The Horned Saint had a point. Their former masters would take them apart limb by limb were they ever tracked and caught.

Sometimes his blood brother's preternatural dexterity and inhuman flexibility gave his movements an unnerving quality, like watching an owl twist it's head all the way about. Unsettling. No matter how many times Richard saw it he never grew accustomed to it.

"You know you have it." He said in his deep grumbling voice. "And you're right. This city is like a lamp at night; insects are drawn irresistibly toward it." Hawkshade walked to the edge of the building and stood beside Grimmwald, one boot on the brick and concrete quarter-wall. "Grimm City is afflicted as well. There is.. something in the air now. A sickness. A chaos. Gothic. Grimm. NYC. And it's spreading."

He turned to looked his brother in arms in the eye. "We have to stop it."It's the only way I can be forgiven.

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Grimmwald

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@hawkshade:

It's only fitting, Grimmwald thought, eyes following white and black of a police car speeding down the streets below. It's only fitting that I do this with Richard. Both wore cowls. One black, the other red. Both used horror imagery to intimidate and break the criminal mind - one a bat, the other a devil. And both were raised by the cruel hand of the Strigidae, brothers through trauma, not blood. "At least Charlemagne is dead. Hopefully he never had time to have a son or daughter in-between killing mutants", he almost smiled, falling back to the dark sense of humor that'd kept him sane through everything they'd been through. "I know", he rasped, shaking his head as if to shoo the grim joke away, "Bad joke".

Seating himself on the rooftop's edge and pulling his gaze from the streets below, Grimmwald's eyes met Hawkshade's... Richard. He's Richard, and I'm Kellan. Never forget that. It was easy losing himself in his masked identity. "Find anything interesting in Venezuela?", he asked, "I was in Gothic recently, doing detective work. Looks like Satar disappeared off the face of the Earth", just like Ivana, he failed to say. Chose not to say, to her son. His brother.

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Hawkshade

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#12393  Edited By Hawkshade

@grimmwald:

He laughed. He didn't mean to but he did. "That's terrible." But under his cowl he grinned. Which didn't happen often. The joke released some of the tension in the air and he could feel the knotted muscles of his broad back relax.

"Charlemagne." He remembered the reign of the mutant hating extremist. It was years ago now but as a mutant Richard couldn't forget it. Watching the Registration Act pass on the single small fuzzy TV screen the Secret Masters allowed to violate the ascetic purity of the temple. The Ultramen. The fear.

He had been so young then.

"I did. Well, rather I found something conspicuous by its absence." Hawkshade was not an investigator by training but the hunt for Ivana had forced him to develop his talents in that direction. On the job training, he called it. "The 'Alpha Dog.' Huge mutant. Claws. Fangs. Strength. The works. Ivana's right hand man when it came to wetwork and black ops. I thought if anyone knew, it would be him."

"He doesn't. Whatever happened didn't involve her inner circle."

A gloved hand rubbed his stubble covered chin. "Satar too." The mystery deepened. "Was there ever a connection between them?"

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Grimmwald

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#12394  Edited By Grimmwald

@hawkshade:

"Maybe", Grimmwald answered, voice trailing off, eyebrows pushing together in a soft scowl. He was thinking. Connecting the dots. Ivana and Satar made mutants and humans alike pale with fear. One was a warrior, unbeatable, forged in the fires of Mars. The other was a monster, unstoppable, a mad dog of war. "Black House, Satar's old base, is in shambles. Someone took it down. Took him down. Permanently? I can't say. But he hasn't been seen. And rumor says it was a girl by the name of Abigail Aensland who's responsible". His words filled the air and Grimmwald fell silent, as if waiting for a wind to howl his suspicions right. His scowl deepened, and his eyes reddened. "The same Abigail Aensland that rumor says was not only in Venezuela when Charlemagne's crusade was still strong there... but that rumor also says didn't see eye to eye with your-", mother, he paused, biting his tongue and choosing his words carefully, "Ivana".

"All three - Satar, Charlemagne and Ivana - disappeared", he said, "All three connected to the Aensland girl. If she had anything to do with even one of their disappearances, it's not out of the question that she had something to do with Ivana disappearing". Maybe he was wrong, maybe he was reaching... or maybe he was right.

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Hawkshade

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@grimmwald:

Physicall Hawkshade was there on the rooftop with his brother in arms. Mentally he walked the floors of his grim mind palace, filing away the details as the Horned Saint relayed them. In the Strigidae he learned that the smallest detail could tip the balance between life and death. The habit served him well as he turned his talents toward unraveling the mysteries the legendary figures of the past had left in their shadows.

"Black House." There was a stillness in the night air and he could hear an ambulance wail it's mournful song as it sped across the grid of streets in the city that never slept. "Abigail." He growled. "I've heard that name before. In the League of Shadows. Also ruined. Like Black House."

Silence fell and the sea breeze washed over the brothers. Finally Richard spoke. "This story has too many coincidences." The same paranoia that gripped his mother late in her career slithered across his mind and for a brief moment he saw connections everywhere. It felt like a snake crawling up the skin of his back.

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Grimmwald

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#12396  Edited By Grimmwald

@hawkshade:

God, that siren. It whistled long and loud, and Grimmwald's heart clamored in his chest. But he wasn't startled. He was worried. Every flash of it's red and blue lights filled his heart with guilt. Might just be someone else I wasn't quick enough to save, he thought, shutting his eyes in disgust of himself. Luckily, Richard's words pulled him back from his latest guilt trip. "Too many doesn't even do it justice", Grimmwald squinted, as if doing so would unearth the answers he and Richard sought. But the air was empty of answers, filled only with new questions. "She disappeared too, Abigail. Rumor has it she was an active hero. For all three to disappear then her?", he paused, "Something happened. If it's a coincidence then it's the craziest one I've ever seen", he almost laughed. "We have to find her. But she's off the grid just like the others", he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before making a slow rise to his feet.

He stood there, on the edge of a building with less than an inch of his foot on it, but he didn't slip or fall. He just stood. Motionless. Like he was glued to the concrete. "We're going to have to start tracing steps", he said, the red of his eyes locked on the white of Richard's cowl.

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Hawkshade

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#12397  Edited By Hawkshade

@grimmwald:

Eerie. Stillness was unnatural. Nothing in nature was perfectly still. It was like seeing a smile frozen onto the skull; that wasn't a smile at all. Grimmwald's total motionlessness set off alarms in the primitive reptilian roots of his brain that endured the eons, ruthlessly selected for by the merciless hand of Darwinism because they did one thing-- detected predators.

But he was a predator, wasn't he? The Horned Saint hunted men. For altruistic purposes perhaps but he hunted them all the same.

Hawkshade shook off the reverie. They were chasing ghosts and it had shaken free things which had deep roots. "In astronomy there's something called the Fermi Paradox. If the galaxy is teaming with billions of stars and information travels at light speed through radio.. where is everyone? Maybe we're the first. That's one explanation. Maybe we're too far away, a galactic backwater. Also a possibility."

"But there's another theory. That there is a galactic super predator out there exterminating anyone foolish enough to reveal themselves. That's why two hundred and fifty billion stars are silent."

"They're all dead."

He was quiet for a long time.

"There's something out there." He said into the night. "I can feel it."

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Grimmwald

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@hawkshade:

The silence didn't escape him. It never had - never will. Sounds, he searched for them. The loud crack of a gunshot. The sickening crunch of bones breaking. The screams of criminals and those in need alike. He searched for sound. Because silence never escaped him. It was there more often than not. When he was thinking, when he was hunting.. Richard's silence hung heavier than anyone's. It always had. And so did Grimmwald's as his ears listened and his eyes searched, raking the streets below for a mugger to arrest... for a runaway killer to torment by changing faces with their victim. There was no mercy for the evil. The only mercy was that death never came for them, only Grimmwald. He rarely.. no.. never killed. But he made criminals wish he did. Dismissing Richard's silence, Grimmwald thought and agreed.

"Eventually, better predators come for all of us. Evolution is cruel", he scowled, too in-control of his own movements to shiver from the eeriness of it all. "But it's our job to stop the cruel. Whatever's responsible for these disappearances, we have no way of knowing it's intentions, if it has any". Twisting and turning till his whole body faced Richard's, Grimmwald narrowed his eyes, "If there's something out there, we should act quickly. You've searched Venezuela and I've searched Black House. But we haven't searched the League of Shadows", he suggested.

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Hawkshade

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@grimmwald:

"I agree." He said, then continued while the chill of the northern winter winds blew about them, carrying upon it the faint whisper of a distant scream. Perhaps a shrill sound of celebration in a far away drunken gathering. Perhaps something worse.

"Their temple is a tomb. Destroyed. The League scattered across the globe. When I arrived there were a few members of the league paying their respects to their brothers and remembering what was fallen."

Richard crossed his thickly muscled arms across his broad chest. "There was a man. A blind man who knew many things. I suspect he was more than he appeared. Perhaps their mysterious leader, their Al Shaytan. Perhaps not."

"I couldn't search. Too many old members present. It could be taken as a sign of disrespect. If nothing else it would have been noticed. Commented on in those circles."And it would get back to the Strigidae, he thought but didn't say.

"We could be there in a few days, you and I."

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CutthroatBitch

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"In astronomy there's something called the Fermi Paradox. If the galaxy is teaming with billions of stars and information travels at light speed through radio.. where is everyone? Maybe we're the first. That's one explanation. Maybe we're too far away, a galactic backwater. Also a possibility."

"But there's another theory. That there is a galactic super predator out there exterminating anyone foolish enough to reveal themselves. That's why two hundred and fifty billion stars are silent."

"They're all dead."

Oh my God, this is so cool and eerie-scary and I love it and now I kinda want a book/movie/game/something that touches the subject!