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Post by Niccolo on Apr 13, 2005 17:42:23 GMT -5
(This rp will be set in the current day and age. I kind of want it to be a mix of film noire and science fiction. As such the setting is a anonymous US city in which it is perpetually raining. All the characters must be civillians of some kind, but non-civillian weapons are allowed. (you gotta give a damn good reason why they have it, though) As such you can't have a government agent of any kind as your character (that includes police and military) but they can be ex-members of government agencies. As usual, no god-moding, puppetmastering, excessive equipment, you know the basic rules.
A couple things about the plot. I can't reveal much except that; 1. It involves a secret government facility 2. All the characters must meet at one location at the same time. 3. There is a HUGE plot twist early on that will affect all the charactes darastically. I'm sorry I can't say more, but it'll ruin the surprise.
Please wait for me to start this, I'll do it soon (friday at the latest). Trust me, this'll be cool.)
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Post by Lobstrosity on Apr 13, 2005 17:46:15 GMT -5
So should our characters just live and work in the city? How will we all end up at the ame place at the same time? Seems to me this will have to be highly coordinated.
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Post by Niccolo on Apr 13, 2005 17:48:41 GMT -5
(answer to question 1: yes answer to question 2: by mysterious phone calls (you can make up your own for your character)
(ps. USE PARENTHASEES!)
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Post by Niccolo on Apr 13, 2005 21:41:00 GMT -5
(aw what the hell, I'll start it now)
A cold night in a hard city. The rain pounded down endlessly. It was almost like a curse on the city for it's many wrongs, a list that was added to daily. But inside his dimly lit office, private investigator Victor Shaw was away from all the pain and suffering of this trecharous city, as he was deep in sleep, his hat over his eyes, his feet, along with his Colt Andaconda (a .44 revolver) were resting on his desk. God knows, he needed the rest. His jobs were frequent, boring, and worst of all, poor paying, leaving him with a bank account dryer than a desert. He needed work. Real work. Work suited for one of his ability. He had no idea how trying his next job would be.
Suddenly, the phone rang. Waking reluctantly from slumber, he groped around the desk, not moving from his position, until he found the reciever. He brought the phone slowly to his ear and answered groggily, "Yeah?"
"Mr. Shaw, I need your assistance. There's an armed gang in my neighborhood selling weapons and drugs off the black market. The police won't take my case without evidence, so I need you to gather some." "That's great, but I don't even know who you are yet." "Meet me at 1274 Wessen Street at 11:30 tonight. I'll give you the details there." "No no no, I don't think you quite un-" "Mr. Shaw, given your current fiscal condition, I don't think you're in a position to turn me down. 11:30, Mr. Shaw." "What?! What do you know about me?!"
But the line was dead. Victor, looked up to gaze at the clock. 10:47. With the speed of the trains around here, he didnt have much time.
Hmmm. I haven't got any real reason to turn him down, and I need the cash.
Victor grabbed his Andaconda, about 20 slugs in addition to the six he had loaded, and his tan trenchcoat. He headed for the door and then paused. The man said they were selling arms, that meaned they would probably be heavily armed. Might need this, he thought as he reached for his Tec-9, (9mm SMG) along with an extra clip. satisfied, he tucked this all under his coat and headed for the crosstown train.
He arrived at 1274 Wessen St. at 11:12. Drawing his Andaconda, he cautiously entered the building. It was what appeared to be an abandones convinience store. Two small windows Shed a dim light from the overcast sky into the dusty old building. There were a few wooden tables and a counter, along with about three chairs. Seeing the room empty, he placed his guns on a table, sat down, leaned back, and waited.
(this is generally how your first post should go. get a mysterious call (dosen't have to be the same as mine), go to 1274 Wessen St before 11:30, and wait for other characters. We'll advance with the plot when we get four or so. Happy posting!)
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Post by Lobstrosity on Apr 14, 2005 15:58:17 GMT -5
Kevin Hamilton was working late again, at the very job he'd never thought he'd have. He sat in his tiny office on the third floor of an office building reviewing a boring report on his computer. His boss had wanted the report on his desk by four. Now it was almost nine. Finally he printed out his report. Kevin had only worked behind a desk for a little less than a year, but already it seemed like his whole life was being wasted. To tell the truth, he wasn't even sure what he did there at the office, if anything at all. He had the feeling that the company could do just fine without him, but he didn't know what his company did either.
Kevin walked down the deserted hall to the big office at the end. The fluorescent lights buzzing annoyingly and constantly. He opened the door a little, but his boss was not there. Kevin walked into the office. The big windows and fancy new computer and large desk reminded him of how much better his boss had things. Kevin's only consolation was that at least the sun never came out, making such grand windows a little more depressing than they ought to be. Kevin left his report on the desk, and then noticing a decorative gold plated letter opener on the desk, he quickly pocketed it. He doubted his boss would ever notice it missing. He probably had a box full of them somewhere.
On his way out of the office, Kevin nearly stepped on something that was not there when he had entered the room. It was a letter, with the words Kevin Hamilton written on the front very neatly. Kevin looked up and down the hall, there was no one there. Kevin didn't even think there were any employees in the building. He picked up the letter and opened it with the stolen letter opener. Inside was a note that said simply,
"Go to 1274 Wessen St. tonight at 11:30. Do not be late. Do not be followed. Do not ask questions."
He checked his watch, and saw it was only 9:30. "Guess I got time to go home and think about this," he said. He already knew he was going to do it. Adventure time for him was long overdue, in his opinion. He left the office and headed home.
Kevin only wanted to stop home to see if there was a suitable weapon there. He knew the streets were not too friendly, especially at this time of night. Kevin didn't own a gun. He never considered a gun to be of any use to anyone, only a tool for murder. No metal pipes lying around either. He didn't own a baseball bat, and the only knife he owned was a small steak knife. Kevin checked the attic, and found what he was looking for. "Sweet," he said as he picked up the antique crossbow. He'd never even gone into the attic since he had inherited the house from his great uncle. He silently thanked his great uncle for being a collector of strange things. He picked up the 10 crossbow bolts nearby, and then realized only a jackass would go walking down the street with a big ol' crossbow over his shoulder. He stashed the midevil weapon in a briefcase before heading out.
It was nearly 11:30 when Kevin got to 1274 Wessen street. The old building looked deserted. Kevin got out of his car and went in to investigate, carrying his concealed weapon along with him. When he got inside, he confirmed that the dusty building was indeed vacant, except for one man sitting at a table. Kevin summoned up his courage and asked the armed stranger, "are you the one who left that letter?"
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Post by Azan on Apr 14, 2005 16:02:00 GMT -5
(can my character have computer hacking abilities?, along with the liquid nitrogen pen and pistol?)
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Post by KiddoFreak on Apr 14, 2005 16:39:24 GMT -5
Red, the color of Quinn's bloodshot eyes. The color of the flowers that never bloomed in the city. The color of the stoplights all around him. His old car sputtered out exhaust from its old tailpipe. The white smoke drifted infront of the windshield, absorbing the, now, green light of the streetlight. Quinn looked tiredly around the streets, the clouds made everything look black, the shattering rain gave everything a foreboding glow. Sighing, the man took one of his large hands from the steering wheel to rub at his sweaty forehead. Another day, another depressing moment, another red light. Once more, the car jumped to a halt, making loud noises as it continually ran in disrepair. After 35 years, this is all that I have: A low-paying job as a high-school custodian, a dead wife, and an even more lifeless city. What kind of a life have you made for yourself, Quinn? These thoughts kept pushing themselves through his mind, over and over, slowly eroding his sanity. Quickly, the man stole a glance at the clock. Its red letters shining the time: 10:45 PM. Continuing on down the road, the custodian's cell phone rang. Slowly grasping it with sweaty fingers, Quinn flicked it open and opened his mouth to speak: "Hello?" His voice was slow and ragged, as if on the verge of crying, and yet it still had a rugged undertone. "Hello, Quinn," the voice droned on, "You don't know who this is, so don't ask. I need you at 1247 Wessen street by eleven thirty. Think you can make it?" "Well... I..." "Good." Then the phone was dead, its soft humming adding to the droll of the rain. Closing the phone and pocketing it once more, Quinn stopped at another stop light. Red, the color of Quinn's bloodshot eyes, the color of the sun the drowning streets shall never see, the only damn color in the whole city. Red, the color refracting off of the sign along the intersection reading simply: Wessen Street.
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Post by Niccolo on Apr 14, 2005 18:31:24 GMT -5
Victor sat up with a jolt, his revolver pointed at the chest of the newly arrived man. The lone lightbulb reflected off it's massive frame. Noticing the briefcase, he lowered the handcannon. "Letter? I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but I have a question for you. Are you my client? And if not, what the hell you doi'n in this slum?"
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Post by Lobstrosity on Apr 14, 2005 19:29:47 GMT -5
"Client? What are you, some kinda private investigator?" said Kevin. He realized that this man probably meant no harm to him, but decided not to get on his bad side. That gun was HUGE. "Well, I don't really care why you're here, but i'm here because I recieved an anonymous letter that told me to be here by 11:30," said Kevin. "And it seems that you chose to come armed as well, so I hope you don't mind if I ready my own weapon." Kevin then opened his briefcase and loaded one bolt into the heavy wooden crossbow.
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Post by Niccolo on Apr 14, 2005 19:43:05 GMT -5
Victor sat back and turned this over in his mind. What were the chances that this white-collar was told to meet at the same place at the same time my an unknown source? Something wasn't right here, he could sense it. Glancing over at the man, he tried hard to supress a chuckle. This guy barley knew how to operate that bolt chucker, and he probably couldn't fight at all. Victor let a few lazy minutes pass, then spoke.
"So, an anonymous source, hunh? I'm here for the exact same reason. Whadda you think this is all about... say, what's your name?"
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Post by Lobstrosity on Apr 14, 2005 19:54:03 GMT -5
"Probably some kinda government conspiracy to kill me bacause i'm so cool, and you because you're taking up space and air that other people need to live," laughed Kevin as he checked the old weapon. "By the way, I'm Kevin. I work at an office building downtown, and that's where I got the letter. So who are you and why are you here?"
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Post by KiddoFreak on Apr 14, 2005 20:17:17 GMT -5
Quinn pulled the car into the small parking lot in front of a large wearhouse. There, it idled for a moment, spitting in disgust of the world. Finally, at the turn of a key, the car's spirit died down. There it settled into a peaceful state, a change from its normal fits. The man opened the door, and squeezed out of the opening. Quinn let the door shut on itself, and left the door unlocked. Anyone who would take that car was a moron. Quinn stood up and stretched a little. He had a large frame, and was well over six feet tall. Reaching upwards, the rain glanced off the tree trunks of arms, and pooled in the palms almost as big as a bear's. Quinn scuffled along slowly, beffitting of his size and made his way to the door. His stride was on of a broken man: slow and methodic. It was like he planned where his foot would go before each step with care. Still in his turquoise uniform that hardly wrapped around the large body, the large man hardly looked intimidating. Truth be told, he wasn't sure why he was doing this. He decided it must just be his brain's last ditch attempt at... something. Anything, really. These last two years of his life had been lonely and less than fulfilling. Quinn shuffled through the door, his dragging feet gathering mud on his boots. Slowly, he looked around, and noticed two other men. Both armed. Strangely, even to him, Quinn was not at all afraid, in fact, he just propped himself against a wall and watched. It groaned with his weight, but held him. Quinn felt like he was preparing for a something. Almost anything.
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Post by Niccolo on Apr 14, 2005 21:04:29 GMT -5
Once again, Victor raised his revolver at the new arrival, but then seeing his lack of interest, lowered it. Turning back to Kevin he said "Name's Victor, and yes, I'm a private investigator." Suddenly, a thought anpped into his mind. turning to Quinn, he asked anxiously "Hey, you. Why're you here?" he allready knew the answer before it came out of his mouth.
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Post by KiddoFreak on Apr 14, 2005 22:31:34 GMT -5
Swiping his large foot against the ground, Quinn slowly spoke the words: "Phone call, otherwise... I'm not sure." The large man pushed himself off the wall and began pacing back and forth and a leisurely pace. Taking his time, planning his next step silently.
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Post by Lobstrosity on Apr 15, 2005 19:01:03 GMT -5
The minutes dragged on as Kevin and the two others waited in silence. Kevin glanced at his wristwatch. It was almost 11:30. "I wonder if anyone else will show up..." Kevin trailed off as the other two looked up at him. Kevin decided to strike up a friendly conversation. "Hey," he said to the newest arrival, the big man. "What's your name then? By the way, I'm Kevin I work at an office building downtown." Seeing the depressed look on the man's face, Kevin decided to break the ice with a little joke. "Hey man, you don't look too good. What happened, did your wife die?"
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