CLOSED SIGNUPS Alias (In-Character)

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#1

Interest Check|OOC Character|Character Roster|World of Alias
Alias
"A false name used to conceal one's identity; an assumed name."
Many heroes, vigilantes and villains use Alias to hide their true identity to protect themselves from the Government, any enemies or just to keep their normal lives separate from their superhuman ones.
~~~

Interested in joining? Check out the OOC above! Then throw a CS up in the Character Roster!
Already Accepted? Gonna have to wait alittle longer until I get my opening post up to introduce things.

 
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#2
New Angeles
the poor part
1:45 AM
July 29th
Elijah Reaper Brandt


It was a relatively peaceful night. The breeze blew in a cold draft from the sea, but the smell of oil, cigarette smoke, and sewage overpowered the smell of sea salt. Elijah took one last puff of his cigarette before pressing it against the rooftop. He stared in the distance, towards the expensive New Angeles skyline. High-tech skyscrapers with flashy lights lit up the night sky. The smooth hovering sound of a train passed by.
I remember when trains had actual wheels that'd rattle as they passed by.
The mercenary thought to himself as he flicked away his smoke. He brushed his hair back and slipped his helmet on. He made his way one floor down, then a second, and finally a third. Just like earlier, the lights of the apartment were off. They had been most of the afternoon, only flickering on once when the occupant poured himself a glass of cereal before disappearing into a back room.
Brandt slid a knife under the bottom of the window, wiggled it around and after a moment, a soft click was heard. Sliding the window up, he slipped inside and drew his pistol. Already equipped with a silencer, he waved the pistol around the room, expecting to see his target somewhere in the apartment. Ofcourse there was no sign of him.
Listening carefully, he heard the sound of a video game coming from the back room. He quietly approached the door, and slowly pressed it open. Though the lights above were off, the various computer screens around the room provided enough light to fill the room and escape out into the rest of the apartment.

There were five monitors that sat on the table. Two of the monitors displayed several numbers, and various data. No doubt he was in the middle of hacking something. Two more monitors displayed cameras scattered around the area. Elijah himself encountered one on the roof, but setting it on a reoccurring loop after dark wasn't too difficult. The final monitor displayed a colorful game. One Elijah didn't care to recognize. In front of all these monitors sat a man, slumped over onto the desk face down on his keyboard. Blood dripped from his mouth. On the ground next to him, sat a bowl of cereal, a plate of half-eaten pizza and several energy drinks.
Reaper said behind his mask. He used the barrel of the pistol to flip the light switch on, and went over to the body. Looked like someone beat him to the punch and took out his target before he did. The man was James Miller, a hacker apart of Fire-W@LL who had been targeting local businesses and selling their information to third parties. A few of the companies grew tired of the hacker and hired someone to put an end to his typing days. Clicking on the keyboard, Elijah flipped through several tabs of information. Whoever killed him cleaned his hard drive of any information.
~~~
The sound was small and subtle, quiet enough for most people to overlook. Reaper wasn't most people.
Side stepping the blade, the sword went down inches past his head and sliced into one of the monitors. Turning and firing a shot at his attacker, the assassin flipped out of the way. Elijah recognized the woman from his time with Shade. She was a skilled swordswoman, and preferred to fight with two swords. Elijah ducked underneath a second blade and rushed her. Pushing her against the wall, he pulled the trigger of his pistol. Before the bullet could fire, the woman knocked the gun aside. Simultaneously a blade sliced across Elijahs fore arm. Growling, Elijah head butted the woman and tossed her against the door.
The cheap door exploded into splinters as she tumbled through it, flipped in the air to land in a crouch.
You should've finished me off with that first swing. Now you don't have a chance.
I think I might
The woman said back in a musing tone. Thats when Elijah could feel it. Looking down at his forearm he saw traces of the blue poison. The burning feeling quickly spread through out his body as the familiar poison coursed through his body.
"Dr. Quailton assumed me one slice with this poison and you'd be down within the minute."
"Elijah relaxed some. So it was Parasites poison?" Seemed like this girl wasn't fully informed.
"Thats what he told you? My cells regenerate faster than his toxin can decay them. I'd say you have an advantage for about a minute. Then I'll kill you."
"The woman lunged at him in a flurry of blades. Dodging the first blade, Elijah drew his knife and deflected the second blade. He was defiantly slower. He tried to dodge out of the way of the second sword swing, but the blade stabbed into his shoulder."
"Thirty more seconds and the poison will be worn off."
"Tossing his knife at the assassin, it caught her off guard and stabbed into her rib. Drawing his second pistol he fired several shots at her. Sadly this pistol wasn't silenced and undoubtedly drew unwanted attention. She disappeared behind the kitchen wall."
"Fifteen"
"The apartment was quiet for a moment as Elijah slowly walked towards the kitchen, his pistol trained on the woman."
"Neither of us are leaving here alive."
"Oh yeah? I think I will."
"Turning the corner, to his surprise the girl was sitting in a chair facing Elijah. She gripped a bullet wound in her chest. The knife wound in her side was bleeding badly."
"Crow said if I don't survive, to make sure I take you down with me."
"Got some more poison for me?"
The wound on his shoulder was already starting to close. The burning from the poison in his arm started to dissipate. The smirk on Elijahs face disappeared when he noticed the lights flickering on the assassins wrist.
Fuck.
Diving out of the kitchen, a loud explosion shook the apartment.
[/spoili]

New Angeles
the following morning
6:15 AM
July 29th

Ashley Neon Coleman

Ashley was awake earlier in the night when an explosion shook the area. She thought it may have been a gas leak or another accident, but when she turned on the news it was only a block away from her work. The source wasn't confirmed, but survivors of the explosion claimed they heard gun shots right before the explosion. Maybe it was gang related?
That morning after catching a quick four hours of sleep, Ashley put on her Star-Bucks uniform and headed towards the shop to help open at 6:30. On the way to work she saw the apartment.
Half of the building was missing, caved in from the explosion. A billboard that sat on top of the apartment building sat in the middle of the road, where several construction bots was cleaning debris out of the road. Around the apartment was a line of Peacekeepers. Some of the officers were going through the debris. Others were making sure no one got too close. Ashley stopped to stare at the collapsed structure.
[COLOR=#99ffff]Nothing to see ma'am, keep moving.[/COLOR]
[COLOR=#ffffff]The gruff voice of an older man brought her back to reality. A Peacekeeper was motioning for her to keep walking, and Ashley shyly nodded and went on her way, passing some more officers talking.[/COLOR]
[I][COLOR=#ffff99]Where the hell are the detectives?[/COLOR]
[COLOR=#99ff99]They found bullet casings in the rubble.[/COLOR][/I]
[COLOR=#9999ff][I]Defiantly[/I][/COLOR][I][COLOR=#9999ff] not a gas leak.[/COLOR][/I]
[COLOR=#ffffff]It sounded like this wasn't just an accident.[/COLOR]

Fourteen Miles from New Angeles City Limits
Arcadia Western Headquarters
7:00 AM
July 29th
Sydney Pearl, the Western Director

Reythaak Reythaak Kat Kat
[FONT=Arial][COLOR=#ffcc99][SIZE=4]Ms. Pearl, the hackers camera recordings came back. Looks like the explosion in Old-Town Arcadia was caused from a Shade assassin. She encountered Elijah Brandt, aka Reaper. The two fought and in order to try and kill him she detonated an explosion she had on herself.[/SIZE][/COLOR]
[COLOR=#4dffff][SIZE=4]And Brandt?[/SIZE][/COLOR]
[COLOR=#ffcc99][SIZE=4]He survived ma'am.[/SIZE][/COLOR]
[COLOR=#4dffff][SIZE=4]But is he in Peacekeeper custody?[/SIZE][/COLOR]
[COLOR=#ffcc99][SIZE=4]No ma'am.[/SIZE][/COLOR]
[COLOR=#4dffff][SIZE=4]Good. Get some agents on the ground. Send Agent Bachmeier. She's got a score to settle with the mercenary.[/SIZE][/COLOR]
[COLOR=#ffcc99][SIZE=4]Uh ma'am, Emilia doesn't really work well with a team. She'd likely leave them behind or send them on some pointless task.[/SIZE][/COLOR]
[COLOR=#4dffff][SIZE=4]Send [I]Zero [/I]with her. They used to be friends, they should get along fine.[/SIZE][/COLOR]
[COLOR=#ffcc99][SIZE=4]Yes ma'am. Their orders?[/SIZE][/COLOR]
[COLOR=#4dffff][SIZE=4]Track down Reaper and take him in alive. He might be a lead to the Furor rumor stirring in the city.[/SIZE][/COLOR]
[COLOR=#ffcc99][SIZE=4]And I assume we [I]aren't [/I]letting the Peacekeepers know about this.[/SIZE][/COLOR]
[COLOR=#4dffff][SIZE=4]You'd be right kid. Good job, now get both of them on the ground.[/SIZE][/COLOR][/FONT]
 
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Reythaak

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#3
[bimg=no-lightbox | fright]https://i.imgur.com/5sxL8aV.png[/bimg]
• Naomi • "Zero" • and • Emilia •
• Intuitive Haemopotent Replication •

• Current Powers: None
• Location: New Angeles, The Poor Part. 9-ish AM.
• Interactions: with Emilia ( Kat Kat ), Looking for Reaper ( TheQueensGuard TheQueensGuard )

  Naomi found herself looking back at the assassin in the back seat for several moments, then ran her fingers through her hair, turning her attention back to the road before them. ”It’d be a lot easier if someone in Arcadia just had some super-sleuth…” she lamented, ”But. I guess that’d make everything too easy.” She wrinkled her nose a little bit, then popped the seat back, putting thick black combat boots up on the dash. A soldier, yes, but still very “civilian teenager” in a lot of her mindset and actions, which caused no end of irritation to higher ups in Arcadia on a regular. But she got the job done, and so she was allowed to continue.

She closed her eyes, thinking. ”Do we even have any idea where he’d go to ground after something like this, knowing someone’d be on his tail?” The usual methods wouldn’t work. He didn’t need medical care after being blown up. Well. Probably didn’t. Blocking hospital access didn’t mean squat. Nor did it really when there were a couple folks floating around that probably could just patch someone up with a little looks-like-magic-mutation.

That’d be a helpful skill to have in a vial, Naomi thought and shook her head a bit, forcing herself to focus back on the present. It was hard sometimes.

“We don’t know where he’d go, no,” Emilia ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. “We’ll ask around. Maybe Zoe has some answers for us.”

She pressed her foot on the gas pedal and took a right turn at the light. Lights blazed by as Emilia ran the speed limit ten miles per hour above what was written.

“I don’t want El- Reaper,” she forced herself to speak. “- to be a part of Arcadia. We’ve got bigger fish to fry, Naomi. There are people out there who are stronger, better, and faster than Reaper. We’re wasting our time looking for him.”

“I hear he drinks,” a pleasant, somewhat deep voice stated.

“What? No, he doesn’t,” Emilia immediately countered with a lie. She knew he drank; they’d gone out together before, though that was something Emilia was intent on keeping a secret.

Zoe raised a brow at Emilia’s sudden defiance.

“You know him?”

“No,” Emilia replied. “He just doesn’t seem like the kind of guy- or what if Reaper is a woman? How about that? We don’t know who Reaper really is. I’m just making assumptions. Reaper seems to have a lot on their plate, but also a nice touch of resilience. I’d laugh if I saw Reaper sitting at a bar trying to get their fill.”

Naomi made a slight shift in the way she was sitting, tensing some of her muscles subtley to avoid being jerked around too much, and managing to still look pretty casual about the entire thing.

She looked flatly over at Emilia. ”Em. Don’t make me sit up and give you the stink-eye. You almost called Reaper by a not-Reaper name and are dead set on them not joining up with us,” Her voice was flat and somewhat unamused, ”Total history there. Hiding shit from me dooooesn’t woooork. I’ve known you too long for that.”

She closed her eyes again. ”Does seem totally like the kind of person that'd like a drink, though. It’s like… at least 12 hours later, though. And there are probably a loooot of bars in the area. And those would just be the official-registered-we-have-our-liquor-license ones. Not counting the ones that don’t follow those rules.”

“Twelve hours? Dramatic. Reaper was blown up earlier this morning. It’s nine right now. I bet Reaper’s dead.”

“Ok. But when dealing with someone like this, it ends up being like 12 hours ‘cuz they know they’ve got to move,” Naomi huffed. She closed her eyes again, ”Anyways. We all know he heals stupid-well, so he’s definitely not dead.”

“Go to a bar. You’ll find plenty of information pointing to Reaper. Naomi, you’re on my side now. We’ll find Reaper and get him recruited like Arcadia wants and then I’ll be able to get in.”

”The only side I’m on, by the way, is Arcadia’s. And mine, duh.”

Emilia did not tell Naomi she wanted to use the assassin as leverage. Wherever Zoe came from, the girl was sweet with daggers and that luring ability she had. Too bad the assassin wouldn’t spill. Arcadia was extremely selective and dogmatic; they wouldn’t want just any assassin. They needed to believe she was worth recruiting and it was difficult to do so. Naomi didn’t believe Zoe could replace Reaper though.

“Have you guys gone to the establishments that happened near the scene of the explosion?” Zoe questioned.

“Yes, people said a dark figure was headed south. They looked like they were in a hurry, but they couldn’t really give much information,” Emilia responded. “Explosions are blinding. It’s understandable.”

Naomi rubbed at her eyelids for a moment and fished around in the little side-pocket on the door. She pulled out a tablet and poked around on it for a few moments, thinking.

”Man. This isn’t the part of this kind of thing I’m good at.” she admitted, pouting a little, ”Actually chasing someone down and overpowering them? Sure. Tracking? Naw. I suck at it.”

”He probably didn’t stay going south though. He’d know better than that… It seems like his usual haunts are more to the west of here, though, from what information we’ve got off of folks seeing him around…”

“Yes. Unfortunately, it’s not much to go off of. Arcadia needs to do a better job of sending us on missions that have relative information. I don’t have time to chase Reaper around like a waddling duck. We’ll head west and check out some places there. Maybe I can use my skills to see if Reaper hacked a few computers along the way. Reaper would’ve gotten everything at that explosion though.”

“I think Arcadia just likes to challenge you two,” Zoe explained. “This is my kind of challenge, my kind of game– working off of almost nothing.”

”I’m a little more of the straight forward type,” Naomi admitted, ”Without modification, anyways.” She grinned. But of course, Arcadia had been more concerned with her surviving an encounter with Reaper than her being able to track him. She thought it was dumb.

”Want me to drive for now and you can see if you can figure anything out with the tablet?” She held up the little black device.

“Yeah, give me a moment.”

Emilia swerved into a joint club parking lot and parked the car. She took the tablet from Naomi, got out of the van, and hopped in the passenger side. There was only so much they could do at this point.
  
• Pills Carried: • Concussive Beam Emission • Regeneration • Energy Barrier Construction • Hand-to-Hand Combat Specialist •

 

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#4
The Clockworker

[Location]Old-Town New Angles Alleyway, Eidos
[Time]9:00 A.M

The sunlight barely peeked into the alleyway as tall skyscrapers and glistening buildings loomed above the small tunnels than many scurried through everyday, jagged, uneven rooftops and narrow pathways formed the urban maze of Old-Town New Angles. A somewhat pitiful reminder of the past city, now reduced to the breeding ground for criminal activities. The rows upon rows of rooftops were mostly barren, the occasional tall building only added to the coldness of the city, but one seemed different, against the smell of dust, metal and sewage pipes. It was a small structure, siting in the nook of two larger office buildings that claded it mostly in shadows, though one beam of sunlight shone through, a faded sign can be seen from the larger streets.


[Eidos
-Medical Clinic -Cybernetic Repair Services]

It was quiet unusual, the building itself seemed like a relic of the past decades, windows were blocked by mahogany curtains, a soft yellow light shone through the cracks. It's rooftop was littered with potted plants that somehow thrived in a jungle of plexiglas and carbon fiber, a small wooden table and chair was put out in the one area where the morning sun rays landed. A mug and few sheets of paper scattered on the table, where a man slowly fumbled over them as the sun start to climb higher and higher.

Lepton Seamyar didn't get much sleep last night, the distant gun shots kept him awake. New Angles was known for many things, and conflict was one of them, a man with experiences like himself usually grow to be unfazed by these matters. Although the explosion early morning did startle him, despite the reputation of the area, setting off explosives in places with such high population density always meant the opponent was at least marginally insane. Lepton let out a sigh as the mug made a small thump as he settled on a few piece of paper like a paper weight when the wind started blowing. The leaves of the potted plants waved back and forth. He wouldn't need to investigate the explosion, even if he was curious, as he gave a glance at the front door from the rooftop. Sources of information would start pouring in soon.

After all, those who knew their way around the city's conflicts knows about the real functions of Eidos.

 
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#5
Emmett awoke with a loud ringing sounding through his ears, his eyes barely being able to open, but could barely make out his scenario other than a bunch of flames all around the room. Remembering what had happened possibly minutes ago, he began to sit up still dizzy from the explosion, he began taking slow steps towards a body that looked unconscious, almost stumbling during the full steps.

When he finally made it over to the person, he fell over next to him. Emmett shook the man to wake up with no hope, his face was pale and his eyes wide open. Emmett looked over to his right to see the fire spreading towards a few gasoline tanks, he began pulling at the body trying to get them up, inevitably falling over onto the floor in lack of strength. "Come on, GET UP!" Emmett kept screaming until his body gave up on him, flopping to the floor. Emmett squeezed his eyes waiting for the end.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emmett sprung up from his desk as he accidentally fell asleep once again reading up on cases, his head drenched in sweat after waking up from the dream. After realizing he was sleeping the whole time, he looked over to his right at the television beside him with the New Angeles local news station on, broadcasting half of an apartment building with rubble all around it.

Emmett didn't usually believe in uncertainties, but he wasn't a man to disprove them either, that wouldn't make him a detective after all, but after that dream, something sparked inside him and inside his gut, that he needed to see it for himself. He cleaned up the fastest that he could, sliding on some dress pants and a trench coat and left the house with his phone and keys in hand.

Once he finally got to the scene, there were Peacekeeper soldiers all standing and blocking all the entrances throughout the building. There were dozens of pedestrians and journalists standing as close as they could to the buildings trying to get answers and taking pictures of the sight.

Emmett parked close to the police line and jumped out of his car going under the tape and pushing through police officers who tried to swipe for him. Emmett booked to the doors when a bunch of the Peacekeeper soldiers held up their guns pointing them straight at him, causing Emmett to fall back on his butt with his hand in the air in defense, then came a few officers that grabbed his arms to arrest him.

"At Ease men, he's just the guy we need." Seargent Roswell walked over to Emmett with a grin on his face, lending his arm to pick him up. "Roswell! How's the kid?" Emmett grabbed Roswell and pushed himself up from the ground and patted his pants down from the dust caused from the explosion. "Markus is doing great, you should see him on the piano, he's uh like Mozart!" Em chuckled as the two walked passed the other soldiers and walked up what was left of the stairway, making it to where they believed the explosion stemmed from.

Roswell guided Emmett through the cracked flooring and bullet-filled walls, the room was barely walkable and each step made it feel like you were going to fall from under the floor. They suddenly stopped when they came upon a man who has crouched down near a wall with a 12-inch hole in it. "Emmett I'd like you to meet Detective Vector Anderson, our very youngest detective that's ever been on the force." As Victor stood up, Emmett held out a fist bump, which mostly began every awkward Emmett introduction. "Pleasure to meet ya, dude!"

The young detective looked over the older detective, glanced over to Sergeant Roswell and gave him a "Really? This is one of the best detectives of our time?" look, and reluctantly fist bumped the man. "Uh yeah, nice meeting you." Turning his back to Emmett, Vector pushed open a door next to the 12-inch hole in the wall.

"Too bad I can handle this on my own."

He said, almost smugly. Past the open door was what looked like what was once a room. The outer wall towards the street was blown away, along with most of the floor and ceiling, revealing the street below the building. The rooms directly above and below were revealed as well. Flying and floating around the empty
space was over a dozen electronic orbs. Each one admitted a light blue light, connecting to display a 3D hologram of the apartment building.

" I sent the blueprint for the apartment to each one of the drones. Using it can help understand what may have happened. For example." He paused and pointed towards the left side of the projection.

"If I was a betting man, which I am, I'd bet the explosion came from over there in the kitchen. Mostly likely from a low-grade explosive, judging from the size of the blast and its destructive capability. If it was any bigger, this whole building would've been leveled."
 
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#6
New Angeles
the poor part
2:28 AM
July 29th
Elijah Reaper Brandt

Elijahs eyes flickered open. The sound of crackling flames, distant police sirens and falling rubble awoke the unconscious man. He drowsily started to push himself up with his left arm, before a baseball-size chunk of concrete fell on his back, waking him up even more.
"Fucking Shade."
He muttered as he noticed the damage the assassins's suicide bomb caused. His entire right side was pulsing with pain, his right arm was twisted in an odd angle, and part of his bone was showing. Gritting his teeth, he yanked on his hand to align in better with the rest of his arm, before pushing his arm back into socket. Grimacing in pain he muttered some more cuss words before standing up. Blood dripped down from the side of his right eye, obscuring his vision slightly. Among the rubble was a mirror, partly broken but a section was left in tacked well enough for Elijah to look at himself in the mirror.
His suits right sleeve was burned off to his chest. Both his shoulder and his face was burned severely, and a deep gash sat above his right eye.
Pushing the pain and disfigurement out of his mind, he focused on the sirens just down the block from the apartment. He had to get out of the area, he'd easily be a suspect considering his gun and military gear. He rather do it alittle more secretly than have a shoot out with the Peacekeepers.
He made his way down the side of the building, using the rubble as ledges to catch his fall, he finally reached street level. He broke into a jog as he crossed the street, disappearing the alley way and darting behind a building as the first Peacekeeper cruisers approached the scene.
~~~~

New Angeles
4:20 AM
July 29th
Elijah Reaper Brandt

Nearly two hours later, Elijah stood outside the bar he was traveling too. Normally the walk would take thirty minutes from the apartment, but Elijah made efforts to cover his tracks. He had been heading South, making sure to be seen by anyone out that late, either looking towards the explosion or any random homeless person on the street. After heading an hour south, he disappeared into the sewers, and used one of his devices to pull up an illegally downloaded blueprint of the sewers. After getting lost once or twice he finally made it to the street directly infront of the bar.
the Hounds Pool-Hall
While it looked like a normal dead-beats bar, it was purely for aesthetics. The owner was a friend, and probably the closest person in Elijahs life: Jacob Luther. A former Hound of Wrath, and Elijahs squadmate. The two served in the elite mercenary group together, before both got offered spots as Canines. Initially Jacob took the job, before getting injured. After the injury, he went on to specialize in selling drugs, weaponry, and most importantly; information. The bar was a front for it all.
The door creaked open, and the thick smell of beer, barf, and blood filled Elijahs nose. A drunk was passed out on a table in the corner, a dirty jukebox played old classic rock in the corner, and behind the bar was a man while a big beard, and tattoos covering his eyes.
"We're closed." The bartender said as he polished a mug. Elijahs foot steps continued towards the bar, sort of sluggishly every time he had to step with his right foot. "I didn't stutterer jackass."
The bearded man said again, lifting a magnum from the counter and pointing it towards Elijah. Only then did he look up from the glass. For a moment it didn't register with the bartender, but the look of realization swept over his face when he realized exactly who it was in his bar.
"Holy hell its the Reaper himself!"

Jacob proclaimed, setting the gun aside and embracing his former squadmate.
"You look like shit man. You let yourself go."
"Heh, I feel like shit brother."

The two laughed before Jacob pointed towards a TV hanging above the bar, where a news helicopter was recording the apartment building. The TV was muted but subtitles the read
"In a deadly explosion earlier this morning, two have been found dead, and four more are in critical condition. Foul play is suspected."
"Guessing that's your work?"
Elijah reluctantly nodded.
"Not my stealthiest work. An assassin tracked me to a target of mine. I kicked her ass, but she detonated a bomb." Elijah explained with a chuckle, before coughing up some blood and spitting it onto the ground,
"And now you need help evading the Peacekeepers?" Jacob guessed, correctly.
"Plus finding someone to fix some gear. I have a spare helmet an suit at one of my hideouts, but my pistols are fucked "Jacob motioned towards his busted pistol on his waist. "Head to the back, I have some clothes that outta fit you. Get some rest and I'll see what I can do."
~~~~

9 A.M
The same day
Elijah stared at himself in the mirror. Beside him bundled up in a black trash bag was what remained of his scorched military gear. He wore some of Jacobs clothing: an open black jean jacket with a black tee with a grey skull bellow it, a matching pair of jeans, grey combat boots and a pair of aviator glasses.
Though his arm still had some bruises and burns, it looked much better than earlier. In a similar sense, so did his face. The gash that was in his forehead was gone entirely, but signs of the burning remained on his face. The aviators did well enough to cover most of the burns.
Elijah rubbed his right arm uncomfortably. Though he could use it, it hurt like hell. Most likely his muscles weren't entirely healed yet, despite his skin looking healthy despite a few bruises. His graying hair was pushed back out of his face
Inside his jacket was his busted pistol. At the moment that was the only weapon on his person. Jacob provided Elijah with the name of a shop that could fix his pistol for him. After he got that fixed up, he'd run by the man who hired him for the job and collect payment. Even though he didn't kill his target, his employer wouldn't know that.
~~~

"Huh, you don't look half bad. The glasses look better on you than they do on me." Jacob said, drawing Elijah's attention away from the mirror. "Good. I didn't plan on giving them back." He responded jokingly, catching a pair of keys Jacob tossed his way. "I pulled some strings and used some favors. I got a ride for you, a sports car out back. I recommend getting you gun fixed, get paid, then get the hell outta dodge." Elijah gave his friend a curious look. "Why the rush?" "Between you and me, Furor is making moves in the city. I got some buddies that run with them. Last thing you need is for Arcadia linking you to Furor." Elijah pushed the glasses up onto his forehead and rubbed his eyes with a sigh. "You think Arcadia is already looking for me?" Jacob nodded once.
"I'd bet so. And if they are, no doubt they will be coming to me for information." Elijah started heading towards a door that lead to the back alleyway, saying over his shoulder. "Thanks for everything Jacob. When our friends come, say whatever you need to. I can keep outta their reach, but don't go playing the hero and cover for my ass."
Elijah smiled back at his friend and waved good bye, disappearing into the alleyway.
~~~
New Angeles

Eidos
10:02 AM
July 29th
Elijah Reaper Brandt
Cresion Breezes Cresion Breezes
Twenty minutes later, Elijah pulled and parked his car at the mouth of the alleyway. Turning the car off he headed down the small alley, sliding his aviators off and clipping them onto his shirt. He pushed his way inside the door of the antique building, the inside of the building offset the oil, smoke filled city of New Angeles; and instead smelt old, vintage even. Inside dim lights lit up the building, wooden tables were scattered around the room. Shelves lined with beans of coffee were pushed against the wall, but the bare walls between them were often covered with news papers. Elijah read a few of the headlines.

Ground Zero: Dawn of the New Age
The Siege of Lagos

Failure on the Calendar Initi-

He stopped reading the last headline. He wasn't here to admire the decor. He needed his pistol fixed.
"Hello? I need something fixed." Elijah called out, pulling the broken pistol from his inner-jacket pocket and laid it on the counter. His voice sounded echoed off the walls and sounded a bit hollow, and mixed in with the dim hum of the lights.
 
Last edited:

Kat

be kind
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collab between TheQueensGuard TheQueensGuard & Kat Kat



Emilia and Naomi managed to make it to the The Hound’s Pool Hall within a couple hours, but didn’t necessarily find Elijah right on the spot. Emilia scowled; she’d been right. They wouldn’t find him here. Zoe seemed to have fetish for “looking for clues” however, and managed to find one- Elijah’s scorched clothes in a garbage can out in the back.

“What the fuck is wrong with that man?” Emilia muttered under her breath. “Keep the clothes. We’re running a DNA test on it later to see if there was anyone else with him. Someone’s hair might’ve floated on there; don’t touch his clothing unless you want to be Arcadia’s next victim, understood Zoe?”

“Oh yeah. Total clearance,” she nodded.

Emilia walked around, observing the polished bar. It didn’t seem like Elijah had hung out up front. The bartender did a good job of picking up after their patrons, or whoever did clean up duty. She mulled over the thought. The best person to talk to would ultimately be the owner himself. Everyone kept coming and going and he had access to the cameras in the back.

“Hey, where’s Jacob? Can we speak to him please?” she asked a fair, young woman using the shaker to create a pair of martinis- something Emilia could’ve sworn she needed right now, if not a few shots of fireball whiskey. She rubbed her temples as the lady nodded and went to grab Jacob, as she’d addressed him.

“Thanks,” Emilia said, and they waited however long it took for the man to finally come around. Zoe had already disappeared back into the van for hideout and possession of Reaper’s scorched suit. “Listen, Jacob, we’d like a few minutes of your time. We’re currently investigating an explosion and we know Reaper was a part of it. Where is he?”

Jacob let out a long breath of air and rubbed a hand through his hair. “Couldn’t say. Maybe Mexico.” He said calmly, holding an emotionless face. Jacob broke out into a chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t need you two interrogating me in my own bar. You could try good cop, bad cop and see if that’ll work.”

Emilia rolled her eyes, “Enough with the games. Just tell us and we’ll be on our way.”

Jacob paused and scratched his beard thinking before sighing. “He went to a place called Eidos. Place isn’t too fancy, just a hole in the wall really.” He scribbled an address on a napkin. “He needed one of his pistol fixed. You might catch him there. But if not, he’ll probably be heading to his nearest hideout.”

He scribbled a second address on the napkin.

“I talked with a few friends from Firewall. They pulled some camera footage from around the city and got him leaving from an old warehouse in the dock district. Bay 18, Warehouse 31. Make sure you tell Director Pearl how helpful I was. Outta’ knock me down the list some when Arcadia needs a favor.”

“Thank you for being compliant once again. I can never quite tell if you’re really dying to get yourself in trouble with that subtle attitude of yours or if you just think it’s all a game,” Emilia said in a sarcastic tone. “Is there anything else you need from us today aside from knocking you further down the list?”

Jacob shook his head before stopping himself. “Actually yeah. Reaper isn’t a bad guy. You and Arcadia are wasting your time going after him. You got bigger problems than a lone mercenary.” He grabbed a bottle from the bar behind him, and pulled a cup from an underneath cubby. He poured himself a shot, took it quickly, and added, “One more thing, get the hell outta my bar.”

Emilia felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Wasting her time? She clenched her hand, eager to throw her fist his way. He didn’t know. He had no clue. Emilia preferred it that way though. Who knew what Jacob would do or say if he found out she knew Elijah on a personal and more intimate level. Who knew what he’d do if he found out her goal wasn’t to recruit Reaper or force him into the system. Emilia knew she was treading dangerous waters, especially when she brought her friend into it.

“Whatever. Come on, Naomi. We’ve got a man to catch.”
 

Reythaak

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#8
[bimg=no-lightbox | fright]https://i.imgur.com/5sxL8aV.png[/bimg]
• Naomi • "Zero" •[/COLOR][/SIZE][/FONT]
• Intuitive Haemopotent Replication •

• Current Powers: None
• Location: Bay 18, Warehouse 31, New Angeles
• Interactions: with Emilia ( Kat Kat ), Looking for Reaper ( TheQueensGuard TheQueensGuard )

  Naomi folded her arms over her chest, allowing Zoe and Emilia to do most of the work at The Hound’s Pool Hall. There wasn’t much she could do that the other two weren’t taking care of anyways. The “good cop, bad cop” comment simply earned a raised eyebrow from the soldier; where had he gotten that idea? She hadn’t even said a word since before they came inside.

She let out a little huff. She’d personally thought she was doing a pretty good job being an “agent” and not acting quite as teenager-y as she tended to, Professionalism wasn’t her strong suit, however. And that was the other reason Emilia was doing the talking.

Naomi allowed her mind to wander a bit, just listening as Jacob handed over the information. A little too quickly, a little too easily, she mused, though kept the suspicious cast to her face carefully absent. Those were remarks to make to Emilia once they were back in the vehicle.

Being told to get out of the bar just had Naomi rolling her eyes. ”And I was thinking about buying a drink,” she lamented. Then shrugged. As Jacob wished.

She offered Jacob a little wave, then wandered out of the bar and hopped into the passenger’s seat of the van without hesitation, looking a bit lost in her own mind at the moment.

”Fixing his gun’ll take some time. Engaging him at Eidos would likely only draw more attention,” she said, her voice surprisingly quiet for Naomi. She was usually a bit louder, but she did actually seem to be trying to puzzle out the best way to go about things. ”If we go to his hideout first, we might be able to beat him there.. Scope out the area, get inside safely, and catch him in his own den.”

”...Of course, Jacob might just tell him that he told us where that hideout was. Or it’s a set up.” She wrinkled her nose slightly, trying to figure out the best way to go about things.

Emilia rubbed her hand over her face and got into the driver's side. "I don't like his friend," she muttered for a brief moment. "Jacob is a pain, but at least he told us where Reaper might be. I'll admit I'm more of a "grab and go" kind of person. I'd head over to Eidos. He's right there and unsuspecting of us."

Emilia took a few more minutes to think as she started up the engine and drove out of the bar's area.

"Maybe he'll tell him, maybe he won't. Doesn't matter. We could catch him inside his den, yeah, but what will people think of this strange van in the friendly neighborhood warehouse area? It's a long shot, so we need to tread carefully."

Naomi looked at Emilia, deadpan. “Oh yes. Friendly WAREHOUSE area.” She waited a moment, to see if her friend would immediately get the implications there. But, she was a touch impatient, “Warehouse area. Who’s gonna think SQUAT of a van in a warehouse district? If we- if YOU start a shoot out in a shop, we’ll get Peacekeepers pretty quick after the explosion this morning. If we can grab him quiet on the docks, no peacekeepers, no problems.”

Emilia's fingers thrummed on the steering wheel. "Ugh, that's true. Not that I would start a shoot out with El... Reaper. Ok, warehouse, it is. We'll hide the van in the back so that way when he comes along, he doesn't immediately notice going on and then we can ambush him."

Naomi raised an eyebrow. ”If you didn’t,” though she was skeptical that Emilia wouldn’t ”I’m pretty sure he would.”

With Emilia conceding the point, the trio headed towards the address Jacob gave them.
  It was another poorer part of New Angeles, not much to anyone’s surprise. Run down and older, some buildings abandoned and others taken over by gangs. Naomi looked to Emilia and flashed a grin.

”See? No one’s gonna notice a van here,” she reassured the other woman.
  
• Pills Carried: • Concussive Beam Emission • Regeneration • Energy Barrier Construction • Hand-to-Hand Combat Specialist •

 
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#9
New Angeles
the Poor Part
9:02 A.M
July 29th
Detective Vector Anderson

Mr.Scales ⚖ Mr.Scales ⚖

Vector stepped out of the black card, briefcase in hand, and closed the car door behind him. His driver, some intern the Peacekeeper higher-ups sent, drove off to find a place to park. Vector hadn’t bought a car yet, so he had the kid drive him around. He actually liked it and made him feel like he was a big shot. He got a few glances from various soldiers and officers, but most didn’t pay him any mind. Why would they? He was almost half their age and already got put into a position above theirs. The only acknowledgement he got was a few head nods, and when he had asked “Where’s Sergeant Roswell?” he only got a half-courteous gesture towards the blown-out building.

Following the man’s finger, Vector got his first up close look at the apartment. The explosive was set off within the building, imploding all the rubble and debris outward onto the street and into surrounding buildings. From the looks of it, the entire fourth, fifth, and sixth floor were totaled. The fifth floor took the most damage and was probably the center of the explosion. As he looked up at the building, someone cleared their throat getting his attention. A teen, dress in cadet gear with a tablet in one hand. The boy gave a salute with a hearty “Uh, Good morning Detective Anderson sir!”

Vector chuckled some and patted the boy on the shoulder. “At ease kid. Guessing you got the details on the mess we got here?” The boy nodded and quickly followed the detective as he started to walk towards the front door.
“So far only four casualties. From the looks of it, two were close to the center of the blast on the fifth floor. The other two died due to rubble. Three more are in critical condition.” The boy spoke sharply and fast, leaving little room for breath. “Bullet casings have been found in the debris. We gathered some witnesses to the explosion, and a few of them say they saw an injured man heading south, away from the expl-.” "Any idea who that guy is?” Vector interrupted quickly as he opened the door and ushered the cadet inside. “Uh no sir, not yet.” Vector sighed and paused at the bottom of the stairs. “Get those witnesses ready for some questions, I’ll be down in a bit.”
Waiting for him at the top of the fourth floor was Sergeant Roswell, who greeted him with a smile and a handshake.
“Anderson! I heard you got a cushy promotion.” The sergeants’ tone was playful, as if the two were old friends.
While not old-friends, Roswell was Vectors superior when he was training to be a soldier. The two were close due to their soldiering bond, and Vector now consider Roswell a trusted friend. “It only costed be both me arms.” He said with a laugh, showing off his robotic hand.
~~~~
After the two caught up, Roswell escorted the detective to the fifth floor. “Uh Sergeant, we got a situation down here, some car pulled up close to the line.” A voice rang out from a radio on Roswells waist. He sighed and started heading back down the stairs. “I’ll leave it to you Detective.”
The door to the apartment was surprisingly still in one piece for the most part. A corner looked blown off, along with that section of the wall. Opening the door, he had no room to walk around the room considering the floor was blown away too. Setting his brief case on the ground, he opened it up to reveal thirteen metal orbs. Pressing a button on the side of the suitcase, each orb lit up and lifted out of the crate. A small monitor popped up on Vectors right forearm as he went to work, pressing buttons and giving commands to his thirteen drones. As his drones flew off, he closed the door and started to look at the damage in the wall. Footsteps coming down the hall way caused him to glance up from his work as Roswell and a new man came towards him.
Vector recognized him, any good detective would. Emmett Everett, a renown detective that hadn’t taken the allure of the Peacekeepers, and instead still worked as a private eye. After meeting the detective, and introducing himself, Roswell left the two alone to work. Watching him disappear into the stair well, Vector frowned. This was his case, not Everett’s. If he successfully found and arrested the culprit, Vector would be recognized as an efficient detective, not just “The youngest detective.”.
Vector didn't want to be rude to this guy. He was sure the two could get along, hell even be friends, under different circumstances. But this was his one shot at making a name for himself, and he'd be damned if he would let an already infamous detective take the spotlight.
"I'm not sure if you're here on your own choice, or if some executive hired you on because they don't trust the youngest detective to handle a case on his own, but I have this under control. Sorry for wasting your morning, but I have my drones gathering data on the explosion and gathering bullet residue, and I'm about to go talk to some witnesses."
Vector gave the man a smile, not wanting to come off rude, but serious. Emmett gave him a soft smile, and patted him on the shoulder before saying

"Sorry, Victor but I think I'll join you on this, something doesn't seem right about this, so I'll partner on with you, just until we get this case figured out."
"I don't ne-. Wait what? Its Vector, not Victor!" He said as Emmett headed back towards the stairs, no doubt to go talk to the witnesses.


 

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#10
Convict #964

----- July 26th - 11am -----
Location: 3 hours North West of Arcadia (West Facility)

There was a dull roar from the transporter’s engine as it shook and swayed over the pot holes in the run down country road approximately three hours drive north west of New Angeles. Outside the vehicles were flanked by old pine forest and pastures, a stark contrast to the concrete jungle that was Arcadia and the cities of the present society. He would never be able to see the subtle greenery from inside the vehicle, shackles binding his hands in cuffs and a lead chain which restricted his hands closer to his waist and looped down to the clip in the floor of the truck. These were limiting though supplementary to the one piece of equipment that had proved extremely useful in containing convict #964. Absorber cuffs on either arm appeared simple enough, small led lights signalling its activation. He wouldn’t know until later that the complacency in attitude and procedure by Arcadia workers brought with the use of such a device would ultimately benefit him.

Two Arcadia soldiers sat either side of the van, one beside him and the other opposite exchanging small talk on what they had given up because of being reassigned to transport duty, an underlying and occasional insult thrown the convict’s way as though #964 was entirely responsible. He knew the individuals well enough and had a long list of reasons why he would wipe the smirks off their faces, just as soon as he had an opportunity. Patience had never been #964’s strong suit but when you are under constant guard and treated as an animal in lock down, patience and a shit tonne of time is just about all you’ve got.

“Comfortable?” the guard opposite commented towards #964 though there was a notable absence of sympathy in his tone. It was met with silence from #964 before the other guard chuckled and shouldered his side, slinging further insults which were slowly drowned out of his mind as #964 closed his eyes momentarily, taking his mind elsewhere as he had done so many times before. Insults were easy to shrug off but any form of contact these days sent ripples of tension through his form. His eyelids snapped back open as his jaw tensed whilst the guards cackled away. As the van rolled along the track the guards continued to exchange light hearted banter until the undeniable sound of #964’s absorber cuffs powering down echoed gently in the rear cabin of the van. His eyes diverted down to his cuffs along with those of the guards and time seemed to slow as #964 watched the glow of the led light fade to black.

“something’s wrong with them,’ the guard opposite commented, jabbing a finger in the air as he pointed to the cuffs whilst the guard beside him reached over and pulled #964’s left arm across by the metal cuff secured to his wrist. It was a short movement until the chain snapped with resistance and prevented the guard from getting a closer look.
“That’s odd..” the guard beside him murmured, as the other guard suddenly quietened at the sight of the black power indicator before asking much more meekly, “what’s the problem?”

With #964’s hands cuffed the way they were, the guard was unable to lift his wrists up high enough to examine the absorber cuffs and instead lent down to examine them whilst the other guard’s hand drew slowly to the hilt of his holstered gun in nervousness. The tension in the van mounted as the guard fiddled with the cuff, the audible unlocking of the cuff prompting the next seconds of chaos that followed. #964 couldn’t be entirely sure that a simple light flicker meant the cuff was inactive, but removing one? That sure as hell did.

The guard was so preoccupied by the task at hand that he had failed to see the error in removing the cuff, a brief second before he felt an unseen force pull him downwards as though someone was pushing him down on his back. #964 didn’t hesitate in his following motion, exploding from the seemingly restrained state as his hands shot outwards to the maximum allowance the chain would provide him, fingers grasping around the guards head and hair once the use of his abilities had brought the guards within his restrained grasp. He reefed it down as he thrust his knee up from the bench and made contact to the guards face, feeling the crunch of nasal cartilage against his kneecap and the howl from the guard as blood began to gush from his nose. Time seemed to slow as the guard opposite drew his sidearm, #964 using the stunned man as a shield as the other guard began to shoot, bullets thudding into the plated uniform of his colleague as #964 slid down to take cover behind the guard’s body. The truck lurched as the driver became abruptly aware of the ruckus in the rear of the vehicle and #964 aided himself further by using telekinesis to throw the incapacitated guard into the other, the guard’s gun flailing as the last of the bullets were fired from the gun indiscriminately throughout the rear cabin. Still chained to the floor and heavily cuffed, #964 briefly turned his attention to the cab of the transport van, summing his concentration and effort in pulling the steering wheel downwards sharply with his mind, knowledgeable that what may not end up as he wanted things to pan out.

The driver cursed as the steering wheel ripped through his hands in a sharp turn, his eyes widening as he furiously tried in vain to straighten the wheels. As the guard in the back managed to pull himself out from under his colleague the van swerved sharply, the force of the manoeuvre at such a speed sending the wheels clear from the road as the vehicle rolled with the occupants inside thrown like ragdolls. He felt the restraints pull relentlessly at his wrists, the metal unforgiving as #964 swung uncontrollably amidst the rollover, the occupants crashing against the inside of the vehicle as it left the road and eventually came to a stop down the embankment of the road reserve.


----- some time later-----



Everything lay still, the audible hiss from broken pressure valves in the damaged motor dying away in the background. As his eyelids slowly opened #964 tried to blink away the blurred vision and winced as he became much more acutely aware that just about every spot of his body hurt like all hell. His forehead was sticky with blood from a cut on the left of his forehead and given the way each breath prompted radiating pain from his side, he was sure he had possibly cracked a few ribs in the rollover. Once he was sure he was still in one piece he lifted his head up and peered across the wreckage to where the guards lay motionless, one on the other side of the cabin and the other beside him. Neither seemed to be conscious and there had been no sight of the driver. He tried to lift his hand up to wipe the trickle of blood that tickled over his eyebrow but the chains were still securely attached to his arm prompting a small ‘fuck,’ to escape his lips. He grunted as he shuffled himself up into a sitting position before leaning over to the guard beside him and grabbing a hold of the man’s vest with what limited range he had available, pulling the guard close so that he could search his pockets for a cuff key. The guy was clearly dead and that suited him fine as soon a dual set of silver keys found their way into his hands. Well shit, he thought as he lent back against the side of the wreck and proceeded to fumble with the keys and cuffs, freeing himself from his restraints. He had no idea of how long he had been out since the van had rolled, but he wasn’t about to sit about and wait for someone else to show up.


Testing the weight bearing of his legs before standing, #964 clambered across the van to the other guard, checking the other man’s pulse until he was satisfied that he was gone and looking through the broken divider to the driver’s cab where the driver was slumped over the wheel. A small smile crept across his face as he crouched back down and roughly rifled through the vest pockets of the dead guards, recovering the side arms only to find the clips empty. Tossing those aside he continued, no wallets which he figured was down to protocol, a lighter which would no doubt save him the hassle of rubbing two sticks together later on and a pocket flashlight. Satisfied that there was nothing else useful to grab he pried his way out of the back of the van and glanced about. It was beautiful in his eyes. The forestry a hell of a sight in comparison to the cell he had been in for god knows how long. He took a moment to let it sink in before he pulled himself back to task like a dutiful soldier. Getting out of here was the next part in a plan he had to formulate on the spot and that meant having somewhere to go, somewhere to hide from Arcadia. Roy Senior’s place would be perfect for that.


He had no idea of where they were in regards to New Angeles or Washington but he had understood the route so far as being North West. Confident there was likely to be no traffic for miles he made his way up to the road to find evidence of where the van had veered off the road, able to find rubber marks on the road from the t. Enough eavesdropping on conversations at the facility over time had given him a substantial idea of Arcadia’s location from New Angeles so after a brief internal wrestle he decided to head back in the direction they had traveled, aiming to traverse east with the hopes that some skillful navigation and dumb luck might put him in the right area. Given his other option was to wait for other Arcadia personnel to locate the wreckage, dumb luck and guess work was the five star choice.


----- July 29th - 7am -----
Location: 5 Clicks due North of New Angeles

Waiting half an hour for the sun to move was not ideal when trying to escape the clutches of Arcadia but necessary to check his positioning. Two days had passed since he had left the wreckage site and he was feeling the impact of having to stay incognito. The nights had been bitterly cold and his efforts to stay warm had not been aided by the ability to have a campfire or staying in one place to sleep for long as it was a guaranteed way to be caught. High levels of adrenaline and the use of his abilities for the first time in a long while had left him with a searing headache and a thirst that would take a swimming pool worth of water to satisfy. His ribs were definitely cracked which had also brought the problem of slowing him down. So far all of the opportunities to steal food or water in small towns along his route had been futile given some were crawling with Arcadia officers or manned by townsfolk who were likely to squawk alone at his appearance in inmate clothes. At least New Angeles would be easier to hide in, higher volumes of traffic and civilians going about the humdrum of everyday life an advantage in avoiding detection.


Wiping his finger across the dirt to mark the minute he had counted, #964 glanced back over the stick line he had made to mark the previous position. The new position of shadow proved to him his navigation had been correct, though a small nagging thought lingered in the recess of his mind, what if he was disorientated and he didn’t realise it? He still hadn’t had a clear view of any cityscape in the distance from his position and that was unsettling. Still, his options were next to none and so far he was alive and hadn’t had anyone catch onto his tail. Standing up and taking a few cautionary checks before pushing onward along a railway reserve he had discovered, #964 headed in the direction he estimated would be New Angeles trying to keep his pace steady and brisk. It wasn’t long until at last the cityscape came into view.


As soon as he approached the beginning of the city suburbs, #964 found an access gate out of the reserve, keeping to paths and roads in the outer industrial area until he had no option but to travel through the residential area. So far his grey issued clothes had not been too much of a problem but walking around New Angeles covered in blood and wearing grey sweats that indicated he was an inmate was not going to get him any farther than recaptured or dead. Passing a few houses he diverted down an alley way when he spotted a car pull into the street, spotting a relatively empty backyard that had a clothesline full of washing. Gritting his teeth he scaled the fence and dropped down to the other side, surveying the house to make sure all was clear before stalking over to the line, quick to pick a jumper and jeans from the line and head to a small garden shed at the back of the yard. Finding it unlocked he ducked inside and closed the door, jamming a nearby shovel under the handle to obstruct it from being opened.


He wasted no time in pulling his inmate clothing from him, cursing under his breath at the pain from movements and the thumping of his head. As he buttoned the jeans he realised he had missed a vital move in making sure he couldn’t be found...the tracker chip in his arm. It had been inserted just under the skin of his right forearm when he had been introduced into Arcadia’s program and no doubt due to not realising sooner he had no doubt that they would know exactly where he was. Pulling out the lighter he had sourced from the dead guard he searched through the shed for something sharp, finding an empty beer bottle amidst the objects on the tool bench. Holding the bottle out he used the corner of the bench to smash it, picking out a sizeable piece of broken glass and using it to cut into the small scar where the chip had been inserted. It hurt like hell as he cut into his arm, blood sliding over his arm and dripping to the floor as he dug for the chip. It didn’t take long to find it, a tiny black item he was glad to get rid of, letting it fall to the floor as he ripped some material from his inmate shirt and wrapping it around the open wound before taking the jumper he had stolen and pulling it on. Moving back to the door he peered through the crack in the door before pulling the shovel away and exiting the shed, stopping by the side of the house and using the garden hose to finally get a drink and wash the blood from his forehead as much as possible. As he held the hose up and drank he felt the rough feeling of his throat fade away, his stomach churning from the sudden fulfillment. Drinking enough to be satisfied but not enough to make himself sick he turned the tap off and took the risk of walking out through the side gate and into the street, pulling the hood up so his face was somewhat obscured.

----- July 29th - Approximately 10am -----
Location: New Angeles - the poor part

Things had been surprisingly fine until he had gotten into the main shopping strip. Though he was obscure enough, Arcadia personnel were appearing more often, some busy on assignments and others seeming to survey the citizens of the city. He had no knowledge of how much his face had been plastered around the city, he hadn’t had the time to stop and investigate as much as he had wanted. In the end any idea of quietly being able to find a dugout was thrown out of the window as he heard a voice call out behind him.



“Hey...you with the jumper!...sir,...excuse me sir!" the man called as #964 increased his walking pace. The man continued with a more urgent tone of voice and it was then that #964 decided running was the best option. How long he could keep it up was debatable in his current condition but as he sprinted off the Arcadia man gave chase, the audible sound of him reporting over his radio echoing along with hurried footsteps. His breath was short, his chest burning as he tried to gain ground from the pursuing officer. He darted through a market place and down side streets whilst tossing whatever wasn’t tied down to obstruct the officer and just as he found some distance growing between them a black van screeched into the street ahead of him. Spotting the logo on the side of the van he immediately know it was the officer’s backup and unless he found a clear route out of the area soon he was screwed. Running through a group of people about walk into the local Starbucks and around the corner he found himself in an alleyway, grumbling in panic as he hit a dead end. Turning to run he stopped short, the black van mounting the pavement at the entrance of the alleyway where the back door slid back, four uniform clad officers disembarking.
 
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#11
The distant sound of police sirens made the muggers at ease. The masked heroine could tell at a glance. The dark alleyway hid them from anyone who might pass by, despite being so late in the night. The two criminals, a man and a woman, lured a man into the alleyway, and now held him at gunpoint. The victim whimpered out pleas as he shakily dug into his pockets to fish out some cash.
The vigilante that stood above on the roof top confidently shouted down. “Stop Evildoers!” Hopping off the edge of the rooftop, onto a neon rectangle that appeared out of thin air. Slowly the rectangle floated down into the alley, all while the muggers and their victim watched in awe.
“It can’t be?”
“Is it really?”
“It’s Neon!”
The three said in unison. Lifting a hand, Neon fired a pulse of bright pink light from her finger tips, hitting one of the muggers, and knocking her out cold. Her accomplish put his gun onto the ground and put his hands into the air, where bright pink cuffs appeared around his hands.
“You’re my hero Neon!” The man who was being mugged exclaimed. “Who are you really?” He asked, eyes full of wonder. “That is a secret, my non-powered friend!”
“Ashley!”
“Huh” Neon said in surprise. How did this guy see through her mask?
“ASHLEY!”

New Angeles
Starbucks
10:04 A.M
July 29th
Ashley Neon Coleman

Coming back to reality, her manger, stood angrily, a dirty blender in hand. “For Christ sakes Ashley, we’re in the middle of a rush! Quit day dreaming and put this in the sink.” Blushing and apologizing, the manager ignored her followed up with “After that, clock out early, come back tomorrow when you’re ready to work. Take the trash out with you.” Frowning, Ashley went and put the blender into the sink and pulled the bag of trash from its bin.

Heading out the back door, Ashley grumbled lowly to herself and grabbed her backpack off a jacket holder. Maybe she could be a hero someday. Someone could finally rely on her, other than relying on her to take the trash out or to make a venti iced coffee. Grumbling lowly to herself, she lifted the dumpster open and put the trash in. Sighing she turned to head back inside, when she heard a commotion. At the mouth of the alleyway, a black van parked onto the curb. “What the hell? They can’t park there.” She thought aloud, heading to tell the driver to move the van. Getting closer to the van, no one was in it.
Weird. She thought to herself, before looking down the alleyway. Five men stood, guns drawn, at the end of the alley. Beyond them, against the wall was a sixth man.
Were these guys thugs? Soldiers? Peacekeepers?
It didn’t matter. No, they were about to hurt, maybe even kill, the cornered man. From what Ashley saw, the man was injured. A bloody wound was visible on his forearm, and it looked as if a gash had reopened up above his eye.
What was she supposed to do? Go get help? No, by the time she’d get someone to believe that five guys with guns were in an alleyway behind a Starbucks, they would’ve disappeared in the van and drove off. She knew what she had to do. Pulling her apron off and stuffing it into her bag, she pulled out a hoodie and her ventilator mask.

New Angeles
Alleyway
10:16 A.M
July 29th
Agent Aldrin Cutlass Domindor

Three days ago, Convict 964 had escaped a convoy, leaving behind three dead bodies. Three friends of Agent Cutlass. Three days later, Cutlass stood in front of their killer. The two met alittle over a year ago, both being behind Arcadia’s bars. Both imprisoned for not wanting to become apart of Arcadia's army.
Cutlass took their job offer the second time around. 964 didn’t, and now he had a number instead of a name.
“Convict 964. Keenan Ford” The agent said with a smirk, tossing a pair of absorber cuffs at the man’s feet. “As much as I’d like to put a bullet into your head, the boss said take you in quickly and quietly. You’ve had your fun, now be a good dog and get back into your cage.”
The absorber cuffs rattled to a stop in front of him. The convict ignored them and looked up towards Cutlass. He glared at the agent, his expression darkening as he instantly recognized the man, “Cutlass, I figured you’d sell out. You weak piece of shit.” His tone was laced with venom, any respect the man had for Cutlass was completely withdrawn. Glancing at the cuffs, and with a defiant attitude swept his foot out., kicking the cuffs to the side. Once upon a time, Cutlass knew Ford would’ve fought with honor. This wasn’t Ford anymore however, but instead 964. The numbered convict would be fighting for survival. Cutlass waited a moment, ready to see what the convict would do.

For a moment, Cutlass could feel the air around him start to vibrate, but the moment passed. 964 grabbed ahold of his nose and leaned against the wall unbalanced. Chuckling, Cutlass took a step forward. “Oh 964, were you just trying to resist arrest?” As he spoke, getting closer to the convict, his right elbow started to harden and change material. Going down his forearm, and covering his hand, the bottom of his arm was now metal. Instead of a normal hand, a large mace-like ball took its place. Swinging it into the criminals’ stomach, Cutlass laughed in his ear as the inmate gasped for breath. “Time to head home bud.” Motioning to one of his men, he uttered “Cuff him.” Nodding, the masked soldier snatched the absorbs from the ground and clasped them around the man’s wrists, the LED lights blinking on. Cutlass opened his mouth to speak, but someone yelled over him.
“Stop Evildoers!”

New Angeles

Starbucks
10:34 A.M
July 29th
Ashley Neon Coleman
Pulling her hoodie up over her hair and putting the mask on over her face, Ashley was ready to save that man. Taking one more deep breath she charged down the alleyway. Should she say something? Should she try and sneak attack? Well that doesn’t seem very heroicShe thought to herself, saying the first thing that came to mind she gave a courageous yell.
“Stop Evildoers!”

“What the fuck?” She heard one of the men say before raising his rifle. Firing a shot, Ashley saw the silencer on the gun. If she was shot, no one would even hear the bullet. No one would be coming to her rescue if she died. Putting up a barrier as the shot was fired, Ashley flinched some. She wasn’t sure if her barriers could stop a bullet. Guess she would find out. To her relief, the bullets ricocheted to the side as she charged forward with her hard-light shield. Digging in her pocket, she pulled out a can of pink spray paint.
Originally, she was going to use it to spray paint some walls, but she had another use for it. Tossing it forward like a grenade, she raised her hand after it and fired a bullet of her own. It was bright pink and followed the paint can. Hitting it as it reached the thugs at eye level, the can exploded in a bright cloud of pink paint.
“My fucking eyes.” One of the men shouted, dropping his gun and frantically rubbing his eyes. A second man, and the one closest to her, pulled his goggles off, but he left himself defenseless. Bashing him with her neon pink shield, it enclosed around him and went flying back against the wall, trapping him like it was a net. The third man was busy trying to get the paint out of his eyes as well. Slicing her arm through the air, a wave of light followed at her finger tips, and flew towards the third man. Burning a gash in the man’s leg, it wasn’t anything permanent, but it was enough to send him to the ground.

Two more she thought to herself. Glancing forward, she stopped in her tracks as the leader of the gang, the one with the metal arm, grabbed her by the throat.

Gasping for air, she clawed at the man’s metal arm. “Huh 964, I didn’t think you were the type to make friends in this amount of time. Hell, I didn’t think you’d have friends in general.” His hand tightened around her throat as he paused, glancing back at the man cuffed on the ground, then into her pleading eyes.
“Unless she helped you escape the convoy.” Ashley’s eyes were getting blurry. Her throat and lungs burned. “Pearl might give me a raise if I bring in two mutants. Or I could just kill you.”
Think Ashley. Think!
She stopped clawing for a moment and held her hand out towards the man who was speaking. A ball of light, no bigger than a baseball is all she could muster. Slowly, the ball started to burn brighter and brighter, before it exploded in a blast of blinding energy. “Fuck” the metallic man growled out, grabbing at his non-metal eyes. Dropping to the ground, Ashley gasped beneath her mask. She wasn’t out danger yet. Punching the mans groin as hard as she could, he doubled over onto the ground with a whimper.
One more guy. Turning, towards the last man she froze. He held a gun pointed at her chest. He had a pair of paint covered goggles around his neck, and a finger on the trigger. Suddenly, the man she was rescuing sprang up, wrapping the cuffs around the mans throat and grabbing a-hold tightly. The gunman fired a round that harmlessly went into the air, before a sickening snap came from his throat.
Did that guy just fucking snap his neck
She thought to herself, before shaking the thought out of her mind. She had to get away first, then she could worry about that. He had just saved her life after all.
“Oh fuck. Lets go.” She exclaimed and motion towards the brick wall that cut the alley off from the other street. A neon yellow set of stairs appeared, leading up over the wall, then down on the other side. Helping the cuffed man addressed as “964”, she pulled him up the stairs as one of the soldiers scrambled to raise his gun, firing a few shots that collided with a neon yellow wall that, like the stairs, appeared. As Ashley and her companion went over the wall, the neon stairs disappeared. Leaning over onto her knees, Ashley was gasping for air. Catching her breath, she looked over at the man who she had saved, and who had saved her.
“You” she stopped, taking in another breath of air “Can call me Neon."

 

Kat

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#12
Emilia rolled her eyes at Naomi's implication and pulled behind Warehouse thirty one's dumpster. She unbuckled her seat belt, switched her pistol off safety, and grabbed a lock pick and flashlight from the glove compartment. She cautiously removed herself from the vehicle. It was awfully quiet on the abandoned warehouse docks. She shut the door. She did a full sweep of the area with her eyes and walked over swiftly to bay eighteen. Her body leaned against the dusty brick wall as she listened for any signs of another person or creature.

When the coast was clear, she took out her lock and walked up to the middle of the bay garage door where there was a keyhole. She jiggled the lock pick a bit and slid it forward, moving it up and down to try and get each key pin inside the lock mechanism. Emilia heard the satisfying sound of the bay door unlocking and pulled the lock pick out.

"We're going in. Be careful, Naomi. Observe before you start running around and checking things out."

Emilia lifted the bay door with caution. She let Naomi go inside first before she followed in behind her and slowly shut the baydoor behind her. It was far from what Emilia expected. Elijah had seemed so well put together from all their dates together at the bar, if one could even consider drinking and talking a date. Emilia itched to take a look, but Elijah had proved how smart he was; he wouldn't just let anyone walk in his home? Headquarters? She didn't even know what this place was. She wasn't about to run around though.

"Watch where you step. We don't know if he has traps laying down somewhere. Our first objective is to find a light. I can't see with just our flashlights."


  TAGS Reythaak Reythaak
 

StareNation

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#13
Convict #964

----- July 29th - 10:16am -----
Location: New Angeles - Alleyway

The alleyway had quickly become a claustrophobic pot of boiling tension as #964 faced off with the soldiers from the van, though they didn’t bother him as much as their unit leader. Aldrin Domindor stepped out of the van and moved in such a way that he demanded control and if it weren’t presented to him, he would simply take it.

Cutlass. That cocky asshole...they knew each other far too well for #964 to be relaxed around him despite the obvious opposing side debacle. Not too far back and he had known the man simply as Aldrin, stripped of his rights and freedoms like the rest of them. The thing that set the two men apart was that Aldrin had sold out, converting his ideals to run with the Arcadia Division which spoke only as a betrayal in the eyes of #964.

The familiarity they had was subtly exposed as Cutlass addressed him with the same code number he was known as followed by his full name. It was first time in a year that he had heard his own damn name. As the absorber cuffs were tossed at his feet, the comments from Cutlass did little to improve his opinion of the guy.

It was a mistake to use his abilities again, the simple fact being that physically he was exhausted. The wave of nausea he felt as the thumping of pain in his head increased was enough to kill any idea of defiance. His luck had gone down the drain as Cutlass continued to mock him, his voice drawing closer as #964 tried to refocus. This was exactly why he had never relied on such abilities and inwardly he cursed himself for having bothered to try it.

“Fuck off Aldrin,” he muttered, caught off guard by the blow to his chest. It took the wind from his lungs as the pain from his ribs radiated across his chest, his knees buckling as Cutlass laughed menacingly in his ear. He would have paid more attention if he hadn’t been so busy trying to suck some air back into his lungs, his eyes welling at the pain. The familiar feel of the absorber cuffs clasping around his wrists was added insult to his now foiled escape, apart from the fact that a former friend was responsible for his capture.

All seemed completely lost as he was held securely by one of the soldiers next to Cutlass who was cut short by a loud voice at the end of the alleyway.
“Stop Evildoer’s”


The soldier opposite #964 had the same reaction as he did, wondering who the hell had yelled such a stupid phrase. He had managed to compose himself enough to look in the direction of the person yelling, figuring from the voice that it was a woman. She was dressed obscurely in a hoodie and ventilation mask and from her size and frame alone looked somewhat understated in the realms of intimidation. Why in the hell would someone else get involved in something like this was beyond him though they seemed to think calling out like a vigilante from a tv show was going to stop Cutlass and the Arcadia soldiers doing their jobs. Still, a few more seconds meant more time for him to try and work away out of the situation. He couldn’t actively do much more in those few seconds than watch the baffled soldier lift his gun, the audible crack of it firing as he watched with the expectation that this woman would be struck down as she approached. Though what happened was far from that.

She kept on towards them as #964 watched the other soldiers begin to react to her whilst he found an opportunity to struggle against the soldiers hold. The bullet seemed to ricochet in front of her and she proceeded to reach into her pocket. He expected something like gun and prepared to take cover if need be. His brow furrowed however as the vigilante withdrew a paint can from her pocket. Really!? What’s she going to do, paint a pretty picture and get them to hold hands over it? He thought as he glanced briefly to Cutlass and back to the woman as she she fired a bullet at the can. The next display was an ability he had never witnessed before let alone the fact that everything seemed to be a shower of neon pink. Despite his inner mocking of her this woman continued to launch the extraordinary attack on the soldiers that he was somewhat impressed and confused by. That was until Cutlass stopped her short. He could hear her gasp as his felt a sinking feeling in his gut. The closer she had been to them, the more detail he could observe of her. He had continued to try and struggle free from the soldiers hold as Cutlass gloated about his extra victory, #964 only growing more agitated and pissed off that someone else was being pulled into Arcadia’s hands because of his own situation.

He was sure she was about to pass out, only Cutlass copped a close range blast of light as the woman dropped from his grasp, following through with a punch to his groin. #964 couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him as Cutlass dropped, finding it a small moment of gold in the pile of shit they were in. He felt the hold on him release as the last remaining soldier focused on the woman, drawing his gun as #964 glanced up to see him do so. Six soldiers had been inescapable, but one idiot with his back to him was a perfect advantage to exploit. He lifted upwards from the ground and threw his arms up over the soldiers head from behind, bringing his cuffed hands down over the man’s upper torso and pulling back roughly, using the link of the cuffs to brace the man’s throat. The soldier was caught off guard enough to lose his aim as 964 wrestled for a decent hold. Able to get his hands securely around the soldiers head he unceremoniously snapped the man’s head, to the side as a loud crack of bone could be heard. The soldier’s body jerked before dropping to the ground like a sack of potatoes, landing at the feet of #964 as he stared at the woman opposite him. Who was she? And why the fuck had she just given him a second chance at getting away from Arcadia?

Cutlass and the other soldiers had been dealt with but all were temporarily incapacitated in comparison to the last soldier he had killed. For a moment he considered doing Cutlass in right then and there but he had been interrupted by the woman as she pointed at the neon stairs. His expression expressed his disbelief, though in the moment as the soldiers had recovered enough to reach back for their weapons he didn’t bother to question it, stepping over the dead soldier and reaching her. Every inch of him wanted to lie down and pass out for a few hours, at least unconscious he wouldn’t hurt so bloody much. He had slowed significantly in pace despite the rush to escape and soon the woman was helping him up the bright coloured stairs she had created for them and over the wall to safety.

Landing on the other side he immediately used the wall to lean against as the woman let go of him. Subtle sprays of pink paint were scattered over his form amidst the blood and grime smeared over his skin. He looked across to the woman as she introduced herself as Neon and he rolled his eyes in response.


“cute” he muttered as he took in her details. She was still wearing the hoodie and mask though given she was now just as screwed as he was she would need to conceal her identity well.

They spent the next minute composing themselves before Neon announced her intentions to head home, beginning to walk off as he shook his head, his hand snatching her arm up firmly.

“Stop...not home, forget home...that’s going to get you killed.” He told her. As much as he didn’t trust a soul since Arcadia had inflicted themselves upon his life, #964 couldn’t just leave her on her own. No doubt attacking anyone from Arcadia was grounds for her to become the hunted but making a fool out of Agent Cutless? Aldrin would take that personally. Before he could continue with asking her whether she knew somewhere considered underground he overheard the end of a conversation, turning sharply to see a woman lent over slightly as she took something from a disheveled man, words as clear as day.

"Thank you for your contribution to the cause.’


He had no idea what the cause was and he hoped to god neither the man nor the red headed woman were anything to do with Arcadia. Withdrawing his hand from Neon’s arm he stepped somewhat infront of her and stiffened in stance with a wince, glancing about briefly as he tried to find something to utilise as a weapon.
 
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Mr.Scales ⚖

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#14
EMMETT EVERETT
NEW ANGELES





"Sorry, Victor but I think I'll join you on this, something doesn't seem right about this, so I'll partner on with you, just until we get this case figured out." Emmett patted Victor on the back giving a reassurance that he would be staying on the case, completely tuning out what Victor had said and instead heading downstairs to speak with the witnesses.

Making it outside the building were two women sitting outside on a bench wrapped in a grey blanket, obviously traumatized by the incident. "Um hello my name is Emmett, Emmett Everett actually and I'd like to get your full story on what you may have witnessed." Emmett introduced himself to the ladies, who obviously looked a bit confused. "We actually already explained it to one of the officers, you can just ask him for it."

"if you don't mind I'm just going to get your story again, just to make sure I get all the details right." Emmett sat down criss-cross in front of the women, taking out a notepad and pencil to record his notes. "Well my wife and I were lying on the couch when we heard a loud bang, almost sounding and feeling like an earthquake, so I decided to get up off the couch and walked over to the door and saw wood and debris falling from above, so I hurried and rushed over to the fire escape with my wife and made it outside-"

Emmett cut off the woman which he often does without thinking. "How long did it take you to make it outside?" She looked over at his wife then back at Emmett. "It was about 10 minutes after." He took a second to re-examine and understand her story. "Did you see any other person outside? Anything suspicious?" She thought to herself, pushing her hand through her hair. "Well I did hear some yelling and some loud bangs, which kind of sounded like gunshots, but I just thought it was a couple upstairs who fought a lot." Emmett nodded and kept scribbling on his notebook. "Well thank you both for your time, it's really appreciated." Emmett began to stand up when the other woman stopped him. "There is something else, when we got outside I saw a man move out of the rubble and stumbling down the sidewalk behind the building, I was going to see if he was okay, but then I was distracted." A thousand thoughts came into Emmett's head that made him run to the back end of the apartment towards the street, without saying a word.

Emmett searched through the back which was filled and piled by rubble, he knew that the witness had said the man went towards the alleyway, but after that, he had no clue where he would have gone to after that. He didn't have any leads other than whoever may have something to do with the explosion is alive. But I do know someone who may be able to help. Emmett jumped into his car pulling away from his curb without saying another word.


Emmett finally made it to where he needed to go, The Hound's Pool Hall, it was owned by Jacob Luther, a former Hells of wrath, who was known give out information about different factions and secrets. Emmett slipped out of his car and strolled over to the door to the bar, but suddenly stopped when he heard voices from inside, he began ease-dropping on the conversation and found out that there were more than just the peacemakers looking for the person who may have caused it, by the name of Reaper. Emmett quickly ran over to the side of the building when he began hearing footsteps towards the door, the door opened then slammed behind two women, he then watched as they got into their black van and drove off. Emmett quickly jumped into the front sweet as he trailed the van, trying not to get too close so that it wouldn't look like they were being followed.


 
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Cresion Breezes

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#15
[Location] Old-Town New Angles Alleyway, Eidos
[Time] 10:30 A.M

Collab with TheQueensGuard TheQueensGuard


The sun glided across the morning sky, the morning slowly became mid-day. No business had came to the small shack that is Eidos yet, but Lepton wasn't stirred. It was part of the business, no jobs for a week, but one job lasts you a months. The man let out a lazy yawn as the shadows of the building slowly shortened as the day passed, and let the sound of cars quickly zooming pass the alley, people chattering and low murmurs of the wind surround him. Of course, harmony never lasts long in the city of New Angles as a car pulled up at the entrance of the alleyway, blocking off a bit of that hard earned sunlight.

Lepton gazed at the newcomer out of the corner of his eye, a small space distortion opened up in front of him, while another appeared behind the back of the customer. Out of his portals Lepton can see who this man was, his shape and messy graying locks were more than enough to tell. The space distortions snapped closed as the albino stood up, taking his time to stretch out his arms before kicking open a hatch to the attic. A bit sluggishly he strolled down the stairs to arrive in the front room.

"Hello? I need something fixed."

The voice came before he could make it all the way down the staircase, Lepton took a small sigh as he showed himself to the so called customer. "Mr.Brant." He said lazily, haphazardly acknowledging the existence of the other in the room, before taking down a glass jar filled with coffee beans, picking out some beans and popping them into a manual bean grinder one by one. He took his time, almost ignoring the master assassin in the room. When the coffee beans finally became powder Lepton turned to click a switch, of a water kettle, before finally taking out a cup and setting it right beside the broken pistol on the counter. "Tell me what happened now, I can't read minds." His voice echoed with the humming, dim lights and the sound of boiling water.

Elijah raised an eyebrow hearing this man so freely use his name, as if the two had met before. Of course, he seemed interested with the Calendar Initiative judging from the news clippings on the wall. Elijah watched silently, trying to get a read on the man as he sluggishly started to grind the coffee beans, as the repairman replied, almost annoyed. Crossing his arms Elijah sighed. "Long story short, I got into a scrap. I was winning, so the other person build the pin on a bomb. I made it out, but my pistol isn't feeling to well." As he talked, the mercenary took a seat in one of the wooden chairs and rubbed his injured arm. "Now if you wouldn't mind getting started, I'm not too keen on sticking around New Angeles for too much longer."

Lepton twirled the pistol around, slung the safety and flicked the trigger a bit, showing almost no consideration for basic firearm safety. But of course he knew Elijah, there's no way this seasoned combatant would hand over a loaded gun to another person. "Of course of course, everyone knows that you're a busy bee. Mr.Reaper, sir." The repairman replied halfheartedly as he set the pistol on the lower inner lay of the bar counter like table, away from the mercenary's sight. "Now would you mind turning away? You know the rules here." Fast fixes, but no one can see the methods. That was the rule of Eidos, one that no one has broken yet, or perhaps no one deemed it necessary to break. Everyone's getting what they wanted, no need to snitch on each other. Elijah side. Of course, the silly rule of Eidos. Grumbling to himself he turned around and rubbed his eyes. He was tired, and just wanted to sleep in his own bed. Maybe crack open a beer and practice his guitar.

The repairman tossed the finished product onto the counter and slide it over towards Elijah before picking up the coffee cup again, it's contents still warm.
Hearing the gun thud against the table, Elijah turned knowing the job was done. Lifting the gun from the table and cocking it, he observed it. "I'll be damned, good as new." The mercenary said, clearly impressed.

"Alright now, payment method." Eidos was always known for multiple payment methods, different things have different values in the underground of New Angles. "Cash, or information." Lepton raised an eyebrow at Elijah, the conflicts around this area did concern him, it would be of his best interest to know what critters are lurking around recently.
Glancing over at the repairman, he patted his jeans. "Looks like I left my wallet in the explosion." Sliding the pistol into his jacket, he continued "Looks like that leaves information."

"Early this morning I was hired to take out a hacker. An easy job, but Shade got to him first. The assassin was waiting on me, and was using the hacker as bait. She tried to poison me. Didn't work. She tried to stab me, but got shot. Before she died she pulled the pin on a nasty explosion." He paused scratching his head. "Building was totaled. Jacob thinks Arcadia is going to link me to it. If I was a betting man they might be stopping by later to talk to you. Be a pal and not say anything?" He gave the repairman a wink and turned to leave, calling over his shoulder "I'll have Jacob send you some cash, consider it a tip."


Lepton looked at the 'Repear' as he walked out the door, "Careful out there, kiddo." He mumbled underneath his breath, if Elijah had the audacity to come here immediately after the explosion, it won't be strange if he is being trailed, by Arcadia or something else. Shade, huh, hackers too. It won't be weird for Peacekeepers to be swarming the area soon. It was a good thing that the man left details about the event, fabricating lies on vague information to fool government investigators wasn't exactly the easiest thing, or even possible depending on who is going to be said investigator. As Elijah left a portal size of a human hand opened up, right above the front door of the shop, the other end was inside the coffee cup. Lepton stared down at the portal, getting a glimpse of the street outside. He saw Elijah's car leave it's park spot, and hoped no more cars would be occupying that spot again these coming few days. But hopes are just hopes, after all, reality is something that strikes people hard in New Angles.
 
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#16
alexandra morris
Omu Upied

DATE: July 29th
LOCATION: New Angeles
MENTIONS: Vector, Emmett
INTERACTIONS: N/A
——————————————————————————————​
7:48am
West New Angeles - Midtown
The kettle began whistling, plastic wheels rumbled against hardwood as padded footfalls entered the small, bright, open concept kitchen. A cupboard was opened, ceramic clunked against granite and liquid filled the empty mug. Honey and a small spoon of sugar evaporated into the boiling water as it soaked the small teabag. A quick stir with the spoon remaining in the mug and the almost silent footsteps trailed on back into the, just as bright, living room. Taking a seat there was a sigh followed by a sip, the computer trilled, keys clanked and the mouse buttons clicked. Hazel eyes watched the screen as software popped open. Another sip of tea followed before the image processing began.

It was on the fifth image that the rattling vibrations of a mobile phone caught the woman's attention. Picking up the small device to her right she watched the screen. It stated 'Unknown Caller' a flex of her jaw muscles and a sharp exhale from her nose led to her thumb sliding across the screen.

"Hello?" The woman's heavily accented voice echoed through her apartment, a hint of a rasp audibly evident.

"Agent Morris." The posh and all too familiar voice of a man spoke through the line.

"Former Agent, Director Barett." She responded in a slightly unimpressed tone.

"Ah yes my apologies Miss Morris. Well" there was a pause followed by a small exhale. "I have a request to make. Please just hear me out on this before you decline." the director stated. "The pay will be generous and this will be a one off. We just need to see the operation through to the end. I'm only calling you because you are already located in the United States and until all the office-work is dealt with, you can work undercover." He explained.

"You haven't given me any information that's crucial, should I even decide to consider this." The woman explained.

"We've picked up intel that Furor may be planning something in the United States. Surely Arcadia is aware of this but, as you know, Furor is a global threat and we're only one of the agencies involved in stopping them. My higher ups are asking me to have someone look into it, but I don't have anyone else there at the moment, plus the process of getting them there is going to take some time. Hence why I thought I could make you the offer." He stopped. "It's only temporary Alexandra, I promise you."

Alexis kept quiet as she took a moment to process and think. She knew the threat that Furor posed, she knew how dangerous they could be, what they were capable of. She was aware that their only goal was chaos, for whatever sick and twisted reason. As if the world wasn't difficult enough to live in. Tilting her head up slightly and looking through the window she sighed. "I have nothing here Jacob, I left everything behind, I have no access to weapons, should I need them, I don't know the circles, I barely even know anyone here."

"We can get you in touch with who you need to know and we can get you access to whatever you might need, your best bet would be to stay on surveillance and gather intel until all the paper-work is dealt with. You don't want to be dealing with Arcadia without all your documentation and the approvals."

Clenching her jaw there was another sigh that came from Alex as she closed her eyes and slightly shook her head. "Alright, fine. Get me what I need to know and tell me where to start. Keep me updated with any crucial information I might need."

The person on the other line let out a small laugh and a sound of relief. "Fantastic! I'll transfer you whatever I can, expect any physical items to arrive within the next few days. We have no specific information on where Furor might be hiding out right now, but we've heard about an explosion in the slums towards the northwest of New Angeles. We're not certain that it's connected to Furor but it might be, it's worth checking out. Surely Arcadia and the Peacekeepers are en route. Perhaps the media is starting to show up as well." The last statement seemed to be insinuating something.

"I'll speak to you soon Director." Hanging up the call Alexis clenched her jaw once more as she chewed on her bottom lip slightly. "What am I getting myself into again?" She questioned to herself before scoffing and getting up. Finishing her tea in one fast chug she entered her bedroom to get dressed.

——————————————————————————————​
8:57 a.m.
Northwest New Angeles - The Slums
Her arrival seemed to be just in time. Arcadia and The Peacekeepers were just showing up and setting the barriers which meant that she was able to get close enough to take some photos before they asked her to move back. In this moment she made sure to keep her senses wide open. Listening to any bit of information that would help her, tracking any scents that could lead her where she needed to be.

There was a small ruckus to her right. Snapping one last photo of the burning building she turned to gaze towards the situation. Someone had crossed through the police line the peacekeepers instantly stepping in to stop the potential intruder. She listened as she began photographing the general scene once again. Civilians, officers, the wreckage. In truth she wasn't paying as much attention to her captures, but more so what was being said.

Her lens had found it's way into the general direction of where the officers had stepped in. There were conversations about someones son, and then an introduction to a new recruit, who also happened to be the youngest detective on the force. It was certainly an opportunity to get closer to the case and find some more information on things, Alex would try to get an interview.

"M'am, I need you to step back."

Hazel eyes met the officer. Lowering her camera she nodded silently and stepped back slightly.

"If I was a betting man, which I am, I'd bet the explosion came from over there in the kitchen. Mostly likely from a low-grade explosive, judging from the size of the blast and its destructive capability. If it was any bigger, this whole building would've been leveled."

If that was the cause then the chances of Furor being behind this wasn't likely. When they did something it was more often than not 'go big or go home'. Analyzing the scene with her eyes instead of her camera, Alexis looked around. Perhaps she could get some information from witnesses...should they be willing to talk to the press. Stepping back she turned around and stopped mid stride as she picked more words up.

"I'm not sure if you're here on your own choice, or if some executive hired you on because they don't trust the youngest detective to handle a case on his own, but I have this under control. Sorry for wasting your morning, but I have my drones gathering data on the explosion and gathering bullet residue, and I'm about to go talk to some witnesses."

"Drones?" She muttered aloud to herself. This young detective was rather serious about what he did it seemed. She could appreciate someone who was dedicated to their work and did things for the right reasons.

"Sorry, Victor but I think I'll join you on this, something doesn't seem right about this, so I'll partner on with you, just until we get this case figured out."

The older detective seemed like a good lead to, but for the time being her focus was the young man, Victor.

"I don't ne-. Wait what? Its Vector, not Victor!"

Correction, Vector.

Moving towards her car she glanced back towards the wreckage. The older detective was moving towards some witnesses. Continuing on her path, Alex kept her ears on the conversation.

"Um hello my name is Emmett, Emmett Everett actually and I'd like to get your full story on what you may have witnessed."

Looking over towards Emmett, the detective, Alexandra did a quick once over of the man before moving towards the trunk of her car.

"We actually already explained it to one of the officers, you can just ask him for it."

She smirked towards the unwillingness of the witnesses to explain again.

"If you don't mind, I'm just going to get your story again, just to make sure I get all the details right."

"Well my wife and I were lying on the couch when we heard a loud bang, almost sounding and feeling like an earthquake, so I decided to get up off the couch and walked over to the door and saw wood and debris falling from above, so I hurried and rushed over to the fire escape with my wife and made it outside—"

"How long did it take you to make it outside?"

"It was about 10 minutes after."

"Did you see any other person outside? Anything suspicious?"

"Well I did hear some yelling and some loud bangs, which kind of sounded like gunshots, but I just thought it was a couple upstairs who fought a lot."

"Well thank you both for your time, it's really appreciated."

As she popped open the boot of her car she caught the officers movement. Her attention was on them as she put her equipment away.

"There is something else, when we got outside I saw a man move out of the rubble and stumbling down the sidewalk behind the building, I was going to see if he was okay, but then I was distracted."

And he was off.

Closing the trunk Alex took this opportunity to follow. Her pace was a fast walk, nothing out of the ordinary. Dipping into the alleyway she slowed down some as she got closer to Emmett. She watched him search through the rubble. He seemed to give up quickly before darting back to his vehicle around the other side. Clenching her jaw she approached the left over mess, ignoring the taped off area for just a moment as she scanned what had fallen to the ground.

Burnt pieces of wood, charred concrete and some serious cracks in the forms themselves were left behind. Climbing onto some of the mess she knelt down and studied searched, attempted to make sense of this, perhaps build a timeline. Taking in a deep inhale of the scents that could possibly still be lingering, Alex took a moment to analyze. Fire, the chemicals used in the explosive; it was the hint of blood that caught her attention, opening her eyes she looked around once again, trying to find the substance would be a challenge, but with dumb luck she would stumble upon something better. Pulling her arm into the sleeve of her jacket she picked up the piece of fabric. First she studied it with her eyes, bringing it closer she sniffed it and hoped there was enough of the wearers scent for it to register in her mind, it was.

Below the burnt smell, within the feint layers, Alex was able to pick up the distinct aroma of alcohol, 'whisky perhaps?' she pondered internally, followed by the familiar smell of cigarettes. It wasn't a scent she recognized. Who it belonged to? She was unsure.

Pocketing the piece of fabric she turned to exit the scene before anyone spotted her. The subtle whirring meant nothing to her at first, she just assumed it was part of the bustling city sounds. As it got louder and closer she turned to look over her shoulder. A small drone was hovering towards her. Picking up the Alex was almost at the police line when a deafening, ear-piercing alarm exploded through sensitive ear drums. Letting out a pained groan, she covered her ears as she stumbled under the police line. "Bloody hell." She winced and moved towards the other side of the alley. "Shit." She muttered and glared at the machine with a growl. Huffing she carried on back towards the mouth of the alley.
 
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Pupperr

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#17
New Angeles; The Slums
3:32AM. July 29th, 2030.
Riley “Jinx” Arondóttir

It was dark with nothing but the moonlight filtering into the room through the sheer curtains. In New Angeles it was difficult to find a place where the neon lights didn’t touch, but as you approached the edge of the city and dove into the slums, it was possible. The economy had tanked following Ground Zero and the northwestern side of the city was affected the most. Flourishing stores went under and the poor, sick, and troubled found sanctuary in the dying district. It was only in the most recent years that the district was beginning to breathe life again. A brand name coffee shop here and there opened, small time delis popped up, and of course the shadiest of bars appeared. Even stand up citizens were beginning to move in.

Riley owned a loft above a coffee shop that had gone bankrupt. It wasn’t anything special, but it managed to do the trick with its rusted water lines and dank floor boards. The selling feature was its unattractiveness and the simple fact that no living soul would ever be interested in looking at it. The only thing that gave away that the building wasn’t abandoned, was the light that illuminated from the loft window on occasion. Riley bought the place when the economy tanked and the realtor had asked her over and over again in disbelief, ‘are you sure?’ She flashed the realtor her sweet, yet cynical, smile and also asked to buy the place downstairs as well. The man acted like he had won the lottery and finalized the deal as quickly as he could, Riley killed the man shortly after, erasing any evidence of their interaction, and left his body in an alleyway close to the port far away from her home.

A breeze came through the window and danced with the curtains. Riley’s eyes shot open and she sprang into a sitting position in her bed. Her arm shot forward and threw a knife in the direction of the two figures standing in the middle of the room. The figure cocked their head to the side in a swift motion as the knife flew by their face, just grazing their cheek and penetrating the wooden wall behind them. Riley’s body relaxed back into her bed and she fell backward onto the hard mattress with a satisfying thump.

”You know, it’s rude not to let a lady get her beauty sleep.” Riley commented with a comical tone to her voice.

”It’s rude to welcome your guests with a flying dagger to the face.” the male spoke, a hint of aggression in his tone. ”Now get up and address us properly.”

”Demanding as always, Sebastián.” Riley propped herself back up in her bed with her arms. ”Alright, this is as good as it’s going to get. Now then, what do I owe the pleasure for such an impromptu meeting?”

Sebastián moved out of the shadows and into the moonlight. Next to him was the leader of Shade, Crow. The woman had a crooked smile on her face and a small cut on her cheek where Riley’s knife had grazed. ”We have a mission for you, Riley. A couple of hours ago one of our assassins detonated a bomb in an apartment just south of here. The assassin was there cleaning up some business with a Fire-W@LL member when they ran into our dear old friend, Elijah Brandt. Why Brandt was there, we have no idea but your mission isn’t to find him. An explosion like that will trigger the Peacekeepers and we have reason to believe that they have recently hired some more worrisome detectives. You need to keep them off our tail, Riley. With so many of us in one spot, it is dangerous to have a dog sniffing around.”

Riley had moved to the edge of her bed while Crow was explaining. She swung her legs out from under the blankets and firmly planted them on the floor. The woman rubbed her eyes in an attempt to wake up. ”Do we know anything about the worrisome detectives?”

”One of them is young, that’s about it.”” Sebastián offered.

”Young blood, eh?” Riley lifted her head from her hands and looked over at Sebastián with a devious smile. ”This is serious, Riley. This is not a sexcapade.”

Riley pushed herself up from the bed and walked toward Sebastián and Crow. She stopped in front of Sebastián and ran her finger along his armored sleeve and up to the helmet on his face. ”Can’t a girl have a little fun, Sebastián?” Riley asked as she patted Sebastian’s helmet and laughed a little. The woman stepped back and stood fully erect in front of her superiors.

”Alright, alright. I’ll stop playing and we can be serious. Do you honestly expect me to believe you have identified worrisome detectives and you know nothing about them? Don’t hold out on me, dear old Sebastián. If you want me to do my job you best cough up the intel.”

Crow began to chuckle under her breath as Riley and Sebastián continued to squawk at each other. The two had a previous relationship, having been aboard the Calendar Solar Base together. It was evident that there had been some kind of sexual history between them but since Sebastián joined Shade, he seemed disinterested in any such activities but that didn’t stop Riley from poking at him every chance she was able to.

”Now, now, Riley. Play nice. All we know is that this Peacekeeper is one of the youngest to make detective. We hear he’s brilliant but there has to be more to it than that. As for the second detective, we are unsure if he will even be put on the case but he solved the Hawkins Massacre in a mere 2 days. If he shows up, he might be a problem we need to deal with.” Crow interjected with a coolness about her that was always chilling.

”And what about the assassin. Did they survive?” Riley asked, her expression hardening into a more serious manner.

”Presumably dead.” Sebastián interrupted. He was clearly annoyed with Riley’s previous antics. Once upon a time, he enjoyed her company, but that man died sometime ago.

”Understood. I’ll take care of it.” Following confirmation of the accepted mission, Crow and Sebastian vacated Riley’s home. As soon as the two vanished, Riley fell back onto her bed. She stared at the blank ceiling for a hard few minutes.

Elijah Brandt...

New Angeles; The Slums
8:23AM. July 29th, 2030.

It was a damp and disgusting morning; overcast, yet strangely bright out. Having blue eyes made Riley more sensitive to the odd light of the sky when it was covered in cloud. She made sure not to forget her sunglasses on her way out the door. The woman stepped onto the street and pulled her hood over her head. She walked briskly down the sidewalk, ignoring the panhandlers begging at her ankles as she went by. The air was crisp and smelt of rain; the pavement was just beginning to dry from the early morning drizzle. It was the perfect morning for a cup of coffee and she had time to spare before heading to the apartment to meet with her detective.

Riley stepped inside the Starbucks, and as always, it was busy. The slums hadn’t seen such a prestigious coffee shop in years, and the people were excited for it. She smirked as she thought to herself how in the world the poor of the slums could afford a $5.00 coffee. Even the bananas were expensive. Riley pulled the sunglasses off her face, storing them on the collar of her shirt, and claimed her spot in line. She watched as the staff buzzed like a hive of worker bees; taking people’s orders, beginning their drinks, and navigating through each other to achieve optimal efficiency. And yet, it was still taking forever. Riley sighed as she inched closer and closer toward the counter until finally the voice of a young girl called her over.

Finally… Riley walked toward the counter and forced a small smile as she stopped in front of the girl. She was young, as most Starbucks staff were, except for the chosen few who refused to move on from their shining life as a barista and were now stuck serving the nine to fivers. ”One medium regular, please.”.

”Absolutely, that will be $3.25 please. May I have your name?”

”Riley.”

”Great name!”

Riley cocked an eyebrow at the young girl’s enthusiasm as she dug through her pocket for some change while watching the girl scribble her name on the cup. She shot a glance at the barista’s nametag before handing her payment. ”Thank you... Ashley.”

Riley retrieved her drink and left without adding anything to it. As she stepped outside she pulled her sunglasses back on, took a sip of her brew, and headed toward the apartment.

TheQueensGuard TheQueensGuard

New Angeles; The Scene of the Crime
8:42AM. July 29th, 2030.

Riley slowed to a gentle stroll as she approached the apartment. The building was completely taped off and surrounded by Peacekeepers but it didn’t appear that any detectives were on scene yet. She glanced at the apartment as she walked by; the walls to the building appeared in a white translucent light that allowed her to see through them. No one was inside. She looked away and continued to walk by until she stopped at a bus stop a couple blocks up. Riley plucked a newspaper from the stand before assuming her position leaning against a wall. She opened the paper and watched the building through it using her cybernetics. Tardy.

It was 9:02AM when the detective showed, pulling up in a black car and stepping out of the passenger's seat. Sebastián was right, he is rather young.. Riley smirked. Funny, Peacekeepers have their own drivers. What a hard life..

A youngin’ approached the detective and very dutifully addressed him. Detective Anderson, is it? Handsome young lad, isn’t he.

Riley listened in as the kid explained a witness saw an injured man fleeing the scene. She had no doubt in her mind that Brandt had made a getaway; he wouldn’t be injured for long though. His body would regenerate and he would be well on his way. The Peacekeepers would likely struggle finding him. It wasn’t long before the detective was on the fifth floor following a brief interaction with a sergeant. Riley watched as objects began to fly out of his briefcase and scour the room. She was too far away to decipher what exactly the objects were but she could only assume they were a drone of some kind. Anderson, you have impressed me now.

A second detective arrived on scene and wasted no time going to the fifth floor. After approximately 15 minutes he reemerged and began questioning witnesses. A couple identified Brandt fleeing the scene. Clearly excited at a potential new found discovery, the detective jumped in his vehicle and immediately left. Riley snickered at the thought of the Peacekeepers chasing down Elijah; it would be an amusing game of cat and mouse. The detective would need all the help he could get and she briefly wondered if Arcadia would mobilize their troops.

Riley refocused as detective Anderson emerged from the building, briefcase in hand. She was curious about the odd objects she had witnessed shoot out from it and made a mental note to upgrade her cybernetic eye to include a stronger zoom feature later on. She listened as he approached witnesses for questioning.

TheQueensGuard TheQueensGuard
 
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Kat

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#18
Collaboration between StareNation StareNation TheQueensGuard TheQueensGuard and Kat Kat

Jan stared at the disheveled man, unflinching as she rose to stand up. The man ran his fingers through his peppery beard and turned to cough in his jacket arm. He stuck his left hand inside his coat pocket and handed over a wrinkly ten dollar bill with a torn corner. Jan didn’t smile. She took the dollar bill with a gentle, yet firm ease and turned to the newcomers who’d appeared around the corner. She chuckled when the man stepped in front of the girl. He was searching for something regardless of his restraints, though Jan couldn’t tell what or why. She only assumed he and his friend were here to try and stop her, an act they would both regret the moment they decided to attack her.

Ashley put a hand on the convict’s shoulder and stepped beside him as he briefly looked at her somewhat perplexed by the motion before looking back over at Jan. She used her other hand to peel the mask off her face, and let it hang by her neck. Ashley tried to look as least threatening as possible.

“So not that it’s any of my business, but I’m pretty sure you just took that guy's last ten dollars.”

The accusation of theft wasn’t the best way to avoid confrontation with a telekinetic. Jan’s brow quirked when the girl quickly followed up with a greeting.

“Anywho, how’s it going! You can call me Neon, and this big guy Nine.”

Jan stared at her as she playfully punched her acquaintance in the side who remained glaringly silent and still save for the incline of his brow at Ashley’s introduction, “Uh sorry ‘bout that.” The girl rubbed her head awkwardly before extending her hand for a handshake, a gesture Jan found somewhat offensive. “

“What’s you and your friends name?” Neon asked, motioning to the man who was sitting on the ground beside them.

“I didn’t take his money. He gave it to me… willingly,” Jan stated in a blunt tone, shoving the dollar in her pocket. “I was hungry, so I asked him for it.”

“Normally I’d be willing to argue with you about how wrong that is, but don’t think we have alotta’ time. We just roughed up some goons that were trying to abduct Nine, so it’d be best if we weren’t around when they scale that wall.” Motioning behind her, she started to pull on Nine’s arm. “If I were you redhead, I wouldn’t wanna be around either. Especially if you’re prone to “liberating” dollars from people.”

Jan smirked, though the redhead comment irked her a bit. The girl– Ashley, as she’d managed to find out through some subtle mind probing– underestimated her ability.

“Who were you fighting?”

“Arcadia,” Nine replied in a blunt tone, staring at Jan.

“Ah, those people. They scuffed you up real good. I’m surprised you’re still standing.”

“Arcadia?” Ashley said in bewilderment. “Who the hell are you?” She said, turning from the redheaded girl, to the man she just stopped from getting arrested. “Fucking hell I’m gonna be wanted by the government.” Jan grinned upon seeing Ashley’s face as she turned red in self-embarrassment.

Jan was neither shocked nor bewildered by Nine’s statement– what a weird name for a man– but more so, amused by the events. Nine was a former prisoner, according to what she gathered intuitively from Ashley’s slick tongue. He was a runaway, a convict like her, except he hadn’t found a forever home.

“I don’t know about you Ashley, but it sounds like Nine is far, far away from home. Wouldn’t you agree, Nine?”

Both were met with the stone cold silence of #964 who kept his eyes firmly affixed upon Jan for a moment before shortly commenting, “We need to move.”

“That’s it? We need to move? Holy hell you are the silent type.” Neon said, still not sure on how to address her convict associate.

Neon shook her head and sighed, “Too late to turn back now. Let’s go, I know where we can lay low for a while.” Jan stared after Neon as she motioned for Nine to follow her and headed out towards the street. The girl looked back one last time at Jan, who didn’t seem at all perturbed by the short turn of events.

“It was nice meeting you Miss No-Name.”

“You, as well, Ashley, Nine,” Jan responded, nodding towards the both of them. “Pray we don’t meet again.”

Jan watched both in silence as #964 seemed to hesitate for a moment at her lingering comment before he turned on his heel and followed Neon as she moved on. Jan ran her fingers through her hair as the duo moved away. It felt good to not be bothered any longer. Now, she could finish what she came here to do. Once she was certain the duo was far away, Jan turned back to the homeless man and knelt down beside him, a sweet, sickly smile on her face.

“You came a long way, didn’t you? You used to be so happy and proud of your sons and daughters, but after your wife tossed you aside because you lost your job and your marriage, it didn’t get better. You couldn’t find peace. I want to help you find peace. I know what it’s like to feel abandoned and lost in the world. Since you were so generous today, I will grant you the gift of peace, Mr. James. It won’t hurt. You’ll only feel a small tingle.”

She grabbed the side of his head and stared him down.

“Look me in the eyes.”

The homeless man glanced up and Jan smiled. She’d caught him in his grasp and the world around her seemed to calm for a moment when Mr. James’ eyes grew wide as Jan swiftly induced a mental torture beyond his wildest imagination. Mr. James would experience his wife’s screams, his children crying, and his own death. He tried to turn his head away and remove himself from Jan’s grasp, but she only strengthened her resolve, gripping his head harder and forcing him to look at her. Jan felt her body and mind rush with adrenaline when she heard Mr. James screaming as she prodded his deepest thoughts of worthlessness and self-hatred.

The blood vessels in his brain popped one by one, and once he was disoriented to the point he could not hold himself up anymore and felt a wavering loss of consciousness take hold, Jan immediately left him there to bleed out and die. No one could save him now, not even herself.

“Again, thank you for your contribution. Purifier will be delighted at how well I’ve outdone myself. I always tell him it’s best when they suffer for the longest periods of time. It seems I’m right this time.”

She kicked the corpse and left promptly. They were one step closer to the end, one step closer to unleashing her full potential.
 
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#19
Director Sydney Pearl
the Western Arcadia Base

The past week was stressful for the Director. Well, more stressful than usual. It was evident by the way she was pacing around her office. One metallic arm rubbing her temple as she looked down at a tablet reading a variety of emails, briefings, and concerns by the other directors.
“Clare!”
The director yelled suddenly, calling for her secretary. The click of heels coming down the hall echoed towards the room as she entered the office space. “You call Director?” Sydney nodded, taking a break from her pacing and taking a seat in her chair. Please tell me Aldrin has Convict 964 in custody.”
The secretary hummed a tune to herself and started to swipe through a tablet she held in her hand. “Err, not quite ma’am. Agent Cutlass sent a brief update. They had Ford in custody, but a masked girl came and freed again. We’re unsure if they have a connection, or this was a coincidence.”

Pearl cursed under her breath and motioned for Clare to continue.
“Cutlass checked in Arcadia’s data base, as well as Alias’s. He believes Ashley Coleman was the assailant.” Clare paused, and swiped a file upwards as she forwarded the information on Ashley towards the Director.
“Cutlass has already sent a team to Coleman’s apartment, in-case they slip up and head there. They can’t go far though, Cutlass confirmed that Ford wasn’t in the best of shape.”
The Director sighed and put her tablet onto the table.
“A barista at a Starbucks managed to overpower a group of trained soldiers with a can of spray paint. What the fuck is going on with New Angeles”
“Err, ma’am.” Clare said trying to stop Sydney from monologuing, but it was no use.

“I have fucking D.E.E.R breathing down my neck wanting to bring in some of their people incase Furor does attack.
I have Peacekeepers prying on information on Reaper, and they somehow found out that we already had a jump start on the Apartment Bombing situation
The fucking cherry on top is that the longer the convict is on the loose, the more likely he is to hurt someone. As soon as he does we have to go public that our troops let a convict escape from custody and we didn’t let anyone know for three days. The press would have a fucking hey-day with that.”


The director finally stopped to take a breath, and she glanced up at the secretary and sighed.
“Do we have any news on Reaper?”
Clare nodded, and swiped on the tablet twice. “Yes ma’am. Agent Bachmeir and Agent Zero have tracked his hideout to the Dock District.”
The director let out a relaxed breath.
“Thank god, I knew those girls would pull through. Patch me through to Naomi so I can talk with them. Oh, and get Thurmon into the city as fast as possible. He can help wrap up things with Reaper, and then help Cutlass round up the fugitives.”

Crow
Location Unknown

Crow hummed silently to herself as she flipped the magazine she had been reading closed. Tossing the magazine onto the desk in front of her, she got a glance around the large, open room.

Not too far off from her stood Sebastian. The second shadow, and her right hand man.
He stood at a table, polishing a shotgun. He had been in a good mood since the two visited the fourth shadow earlier that morning. Maybe good wasn’t the right word, but a bit more upbeat than unusual. She even got him to snicker at a joke earlier in the day. On the table sat his helmet. The Spaniard rarely took his helmet off nowadays, and it revealed his black beard on tanned skin, leading up to his messy short hair. A scar from a previous battle cut across his face in a jagged diagonal line. He would be a catch for the ladies, if it wasn’t for his nasty, arrogant attitude.

On the opposite side of the room Parasite, the fifth shadow, quickly walked between different two different work benches as he observed five different beakers, each filled with a different color liquid. He’d stir one, mutter something to himself, then go to the next beaker and repeat the process. His had was shaved clean, and he had a thin, white goatee. His glasses hugged his curved nose tightly. It was clear his nose was broken at one point and was still twisted somewhat. Crow never asked the story behind it.
“Doctor.”
Crow called out to the scientist, who was too preoccupied with his experiment to answer the woman. Sighing, she sat up a bit straighter, her smile quickly turning to a look of displeasure, though it wasn't quite a frown.

“Don’t make her repeat herself.”
Sebastián’s low voice echoed from his table, his eyes still focused on the shotgun, this time cleaning the barrel.
“Yes, yes I’m coming.” The scientist said, turning a beaker off before striding across the room towards Crow. “How can I be of service.” He bowed, almost mockingly. Smirking once again, Crow sat back in her chair, kicking her feet up onto the desk. “Tell me Lester, where is Miss Romero.” She said, opening a drawer and pulling out a piece of gum, plopping it in her mouth.

“She left shortly after you two, I thought she may have been visiting Jinx with you two.” The doctor said, laughing awkwardly and pulling at his collar. “Lester” Crow began. “Do you know how I feel about people who lie to me?” She said plainly, blowing a bubble, letting it pop loudly.
“You didn’t let me finish!” the bald man said with a nervous laugh. “I overheard her irritating Sirens talking, and she was going to take care of Elijah.”

Sebastian snorted, setting the shotgun on the table and walking towards the table. “She’s wasting her time. I never took Vex as the one to get revenge.” He said as he took a seat off to the side of Crows desk.
“It’s not revenge. The only one who wants revenge on that dreadful man is you, after-all he was the one who gave you that, wasn’t he?” Doctor Quailton said, motioning to the scar that was across Sebastián’s face. Growling lowly, the soldier went to stand up before Crow raised a hand to stop him. “To be fair, it isn’t revenge. Romero has never liked loose ends. She’s worried that Elijah might get caught and tell Arcadia some of our secrets.” Parasite smirked. “Precisely! I developed a bullet that might counter-act that healing factor of his. I used one of Vex's Sirens as a test against Brandt, but that clearly didn’t work out.” The scientist trailed off, quieting down as Crow took her feet off the table and stood up.

“These coming days should be interesting. Riley should be able to keep the detective from discovering too much. Furor is setting their plans in motion, and Arcadia and the Peacekeepers are too distracted to prepare for them." She blew another bubble with her gum, popping it before continuing.
"If that bullet of yours does work Lester, it could help with future jobs. Elijah will be the perfect test subject.” As the woman talked, she walked towards a window overlooking the city. “You two should start playing nice with each other.” Crow said with a smirk. “Don’t let Lester ruin your mood Sebastian, your cheeks are still blushing from seeing Jinx.”


Purifier
Location unknown

The broken down, decaying building was the perfect placed for the crazed killers to lay low.
Purifier had a few of Furor followers construct his throne, made from scrap metal and rust. It was the center piece of the room, the perfect place for the masked-maniac to sit and ponder who exactly he was to kill next.
Propped against the throne was his menacing mace, the high-tech weapon misplaced against the old metal that surrounded the building. On both knees in front of the throne, awaited a bleeding man, his head hung low as he coughed up blood. On either side of the broken man, stood two soldiers of Furor, holding the man’s torso up by his arms.

Purifier stood up, gripping his mace in one hand and resting it on his shoulder. Taking a step from his throne, Purifier lifted the mans chin up with the mace, and looked in the man’s eye, his other one purple and closed shut. Arcadia thought sending an agent undercover into Furor would be a wise decision. They thought he could get close to Purifier and his follows and find out their true motives. Because of Arcadia’s arrogance, it costed the man his life.
“You call me a monster. A mad-man. Just because I see through the lies and bullshit Arcadia feeds you.” His voice was low, calm, and cool beneath his mask. “From the moment you entered these walls, we knew you were trying to reach outward towards your director. We intercepted your signals and replaced them with ones of our own. You look like a defeated man Zane Azikiwe. Tell me Chameleon do you feel defeated.”
The Arcadia agent coughed some more blood up as it ran down his face. Taking a breath, he went to speak, but was cut short by an uppercut from Purifiers mace. The sudden action caused the two Furor soldiers to jump back, as Purifier stood over their prisoner. Zane was alive, though his breath was raspy. Several teeth were broken, and his nose was jammed into his face. Purifier swung his mace down onto the man’s head once.

“NO
Twice.
ONE
A third time.
TRICKS
Finally, the fourth strike crushed the mans skull to pieces.
Me.”
Breathing heavily, he slowly regained his composure. Taking a seat on his throne once again, he waved the two soldiers off, and watched as they dragged the Arcadia spy out of the room.
“Get that out of your system?” The sly and excited voice of Ash said, walking from behind the throne. Nodding, Purifiers hungry gaze met his disciples. “Any news on the city?” He asked, following Ash’s movement as the thin man strode in front of Purifier, and knelt. “It’s only a matter of time now, your grace. Our little birdy in the city said the Peacekeepers haven’t beefed up security in the city, aside from the bombing last night.”
To Ash’s surprise, Purifier laughed. At first it was a chuckle, but quickly grew to a cackle.
“The bomb will be trivial to the destruction we will cause. Their skyscrapers will topple. Their citizens will die. Their will, broken. Arcadia will learn to fear Furor. To fear me.”
Purifiers cackle trickled out slowly, as he excitedly grabbed his mace, his eyes filled with blood-lust and excitement. “Bring in another prisoner. Someone lively this time. I enjoy beating them the most.”

 
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#20
New Angeles
the poor part
10:40 AM
July 29th
Elijah
Reaper Brandt

Slipping his sunglasses on again as he stepped out of the building, the smell of coffee was replaced by the regular dirt and oil of the big city. Heading towards his car, Elijah could feel eyes on him. Glancing around, he couldn't quite figure out from which direction he felt the other persons gaze. Slipping into his car, he reloaded his pistol and stashed it in his coat. Starting up the car and hitting the road he headed down the road further west, towards the Dock District.
Turning down a side road, the flashing lights of a Peacekeeper vehicle appeared in his rear view mirror.
"Shit."
Elijah said, calmly pulling over. Rolling down the window, he readjusted his sunglasses into the middle of his face, and rested a hand in his lap, ready to pull his pistol from the jacket. He watched the Peacekeeper step out of his car, and slowly head towards Elijahs driver-side door.

"Goodmorning sir."
"Officer" Elijah said, giving the man a smile. "Do you know why I stopped you?" Elijah shook his head, slightly moving his hand closer to his jacket pocket. "Well you didn't use your blinker for that last turn back there. Just gonna run you through the system real quick, then you can be on the way." Elijah nodded and said "Oh damn silly me! Lemme get that for you officer." Elijah started to pat his pockets, thinking to himself I'm about to have to shoot a damn traffic cop.
Elijah started to reach into his jacket pocket as he looked for his wallet. Luckily for both him, and the officer, a voice from the Peacekeepers squadcar called out.
"Aye Ricky, we gotta 081 on Westpoint road, lets get goin'."
"Fine, I'm coming." The officer called back to his partner, looking back at Elijah adding. "Do me a favor sir, use your blinker next time." Elijah nodded in agreement and waved goodbye, rolling up his window and sighing. "Dick."

New Angeles
the Dock District

10:55 AM
July 29th
Elijah Reaper Brandt
Pulling onto the street his ware-house HQ was located on, Elijah slowed his car to a stop in front of an old garage. Most of it was boarded off, but the garage door Elijah stopped in front of looked to be cleaned off some, nothing but a chain and lock keeping it closed up. Stepping out of the car, Elijah took a look around as he headed towards the garage door, pulling a key from his pocket. Slipping it into the lock, he twisted it and pulled the lock off the chain.
Pulling the garage door open, the chain fell loudly on the ground. Despite it being morning, the streets were relatively dead.
This part of the city didn't see too much traffic. Regardless of day or night, these streets are only walked by gang-bangers and dock workers. Neither of which would give Elijah any trouble. The garage door opened loudly, with a bang. Turning back to his car, he quickly drove the sports car into the building and closed the garage door shut behind him.
Inside the small garage was a trap door, hidden beneath a carpet. In the trap door was a small arsenal of weapons. While he normally kept his go-to rifle and pistols on hand, or at his hide out, this garage was a safe place for Reaper to stash extra ammo and any extra weaponry. Whistling a tune, Elijah lifted out an ammo crate. Closing the trap door and rolling the carpet back over it. Elijah lifted the garage door open slightly and closed the heavy door shut behind him, locking it with the chain and lock once again. He'd walk to the warehouse from here, it being less than a block away.
It took Brandt roughly five minutes to reach the warehouse. Pausing in front of the door, Elijah could sense something wasn't quite right. His suspensions were confirmed, as he noticed the large bay door was left unlocked, a door Elijah knew he locked earlier that morning.
"Time to say hello to the guests."
He muttered to himself, using his free hand to lift the door up, and ducked his head as he entered the building, slowly setting the door down behind him. Setting his ammo crate on the ground, Elijah drew his pistol from his jacket, turning it off safety. The lights above him hummed dimly, meaning whoever visited his cozy-little warehouse was still here. Grabbing the ammo container in his free hand, he went to meet them.

A wall of large metal cargo containers blocked the front door off from the rest of the warehouse. One of the metal doors was slightly ajar, Elijah opening it wide and peering in as he walked into the container. The far end of the container was also opened, as it went into a maze of trash, traps, and dead-ends. This was to deter anyone from reaching the second level, a room Elijah cleaned out as his own personal living quarters.
Elijah easily made his way through the maze, stepping over broken or already triggered traps that failed to wound whoever triggered them. He had designed the maze and memorized every detail of it. Elijah himself got lost the first time he stayed at the HQ, but now he could reach the back stairs with ease.
The back stairs were actually broken, an old metal set of steps Elijah broke himself. Normally he used a wooden plank to move up the stairs, and hid it in a pile of trash and debris. This time, it seemed his guests had found the plank and were waiting for him atop the stairs in his loft. Slowly moving up the plank, he came to the door leading to the large-open room he used as his living space. Pushing it open with his pistol, he stepped into the room.

The upstairs room was surprisingly well kept, compared to the trash filled maze below. A tinted window gave a good view of the harbor, and let sunlight in. An old office table sat, pressed against the wall to his right. On it papers and files were scattered a cross on it, some work related, others were news paper clippings. Beside the table was a fridge, stocked with beer, soda, a bottle of vodka, and various snacks. Beside the fridge sat an acoustic guitar, leaning up in a holder. A spare set of armor hung up on an old mannequin to his left, his skull imprinted helmet starring over at him. Further along the wall, was his bedroll. Neatly rolled up, pressed against a locked-weapons case.
In the center of the room, sat a well-kept red couch. Seated upon it, drinking one of his beers, was a familiar face.

"Emilia?"
Elijah said surprised, lowing his pistol to his side, but kept a finger near the trigger. He tensed up once again, seeing the other woman in the warehouse. She had white hair, shaved on either side, but was still long on the top. She was seated on the arm of the couch, beside Emilia.
"Guessing this is work related, and you two didn't just stop by to say hi"
Elijah said plainly, setting the ammo crate on the ground beside him, closing the door behind him.