Blayze

[SIZE=1]Hi there! I'm in need of someone to do a couple of things for my upcoming RP. I've attached an image, and all I need is for someone to put the words "Rogue's Gallery" on it, in a place and a font that they think will suit the style of the image. I'm leaving this one fairly open for interpretation on your behalf. Also, if possible, a banner and avatar from the same picture would be very nice. Again, just "Rogue's Gallery" on the banner, and no words on the avatar. Which parts of the image you use for these are, once again, up to you. Please let me know if there's any problems and/or confusion about my request, and thank you in advance. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]Kreid was overseeing the last of the preparations to launch his small battle squadron when he got the call. [B]"Get ready Mr Kreid," [/B]Landers' voice crackled through on the comms, [B]"Your group launches in thirty minutes." "Understood, sir!" [/B]Kreid shouted before disabling the channel, [B]"We're on our way out, everybody! Perform final safety checks and be ready to launch on my order!" [/B]The squadron began swarming around their ships, pilots leaping into their positions and performing the last safety checks that were required by the Alliance, there were engineers checking all systems were working to as high a level as possible, and the launch co-ordinators in their console room were busy at their computers. Kreid himself took the opportunity to leap into the cockpit of his small assault ship and begin to prep the engines. He pulled the headset radio system out from its nook just next to him and hooked it into his ear. The microphone extended down to just in front of his mouth, and a receiver pressed up against his eardrum. [B]"All pilots, sound off!" [/B]he shouted over the roar of engines firing up. His team all responded with their callsigns, and Kreid fired up his engine. He grabbed the steering columns and swivelled his ship towards the hangar doors, and waited for the rest of the team to get into formation. [B]"All systems ready?" [/B]asked the head launch co-ordinator from his booth, and Kreid answered in the affirmative, [B]"Alright, launch in thirty seconds." [/B]Kreid took a deep breath and stared out into the blackness of space that lay before them. The signals that each of the automated defence points were emitting had been programmed into the NaviComp system, so the pilots just had to follow the screens. [B]"Launch in five, four, three, two, one," [/B]counted the co-ordinator, [B]"Launch! Move out, all teams! Go!" [/B]Kreid fired up the thrusters and blasted out into the void, his team following him in close formation. [B]"Keep in formation until my mark," [/B]said Kreid, [B]"Then split off and destroy the targets." [/B]The rest of the team sounded off, and Kreid pushed on towards the first automated defence turret. The barrel swivelled to face the team as they got closer, and a siren went off in Kreid's earpiece. [B]"UNAUTHORISED ACCESS! NO MILITARY CLEARANCE! YOU HAVE THIRTY SECONDS TO VACATE THE AREA!" [/B]came the shrill, automated voice through the comm system, and Kreid grabbed the control sticks and opened fire. Blasts of red light lanced from the cannons on his ship and tore the automated defence system apart. [B]"Go! Go! Go!" [/B]shouted Kreid, [B]"All units, move out!" [/B]The ships behind him scattered, hurtling towards the nearest turrets. Laser blasts flew every which way, red light arcing towards turrets and back towards ships. The turrets would give no warning now that one of them had been destroyed, and simply open fire on all unauthorised transports. Kreid soared towards the next defence system, all guns blazing, the lasers ripping the rather primitive defence sytems apart. The counter in the corner of his HUD showed that there were only thirty-two out of fifty units remaining, and that number was diminishing quickly. This job would be over in a matter of minutes. Kreid roared through the checklist, blasting apart every turret that came in his way, until he saw that there was only one left. He soared towards it and ripped it apart in a few seconds. The sector was clear. [B]"All defences disposed of," [/B]said Kreid, reporting back to the flagship, [B]"Returning to the fleet to provide assistance with further planetary defences." [/B]He turned the ship around and headed back to the flagship, the rest of the assault team falling into formation once again. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]The copycat killer in sector eleven had proved a useful method of clearing up a few loose ends. Tyrell had been knocked out cold and left at the door of one of the many copycats scattered across the planet, and sure enough, he had taken the bait. Tyrell was dead before the security team had managed to get to the killer, who was now locked up securely in one of the most high-security prisons on the planet. But now Kreid had another obstacle in his path - the testing of this new security recruit, Tarika Zaidin. He had enough tasks to complete for the Alliance, not to mention his undercover work, without this hassle. But if Daniel needed it done, then he would do it - anything to gain his absolute trust. She was sitting patiently in his office when he got there, this miniscule streak of a Versilan, her jet black hair tied in a tight ponytail, her silver eyes flitting from one side of the room to the other, as if she was trying to take in every single detail of the place as quickly as possible. [B]"Ms. Zaidin?" [/B]Kreid asked as he stepped into his own office, [B]"My name is Greydon Kreid, Head of Security. I understand that you've been assigned to the Commander's personal security detail, is that correct?" "That is correct. The New Alliance Representatives sent me here to deal with Commander Landers' own security exclusively," [/B]she replied, her voice powerful, but cold as ice. [B]"Well, I'm sure you understand that as the Head of Security aboard this ship, I cannot allow any member of the security force to go about their duties untested. So I'm afraid I will have to put you through the standard security tests, as well as a number of extra ones which you require to become part of the Commander's security team." "Of course. I would expect no less from the Head of Security." "Excellent. Well, if you would follow me, I'll take you to the testing area." [/B]Kreid got up and strode out of his office. Zaidin followed, almost wraith-like in her fluid movements, until they got to the testing area. [B]"First, I'm going to run you through some physical tests. Strength, speed, endurance, that sort of thing. I assume you are familiar with the Alliance's testing protocols?" "Of course." "Good. Well, if you would like to begin with the strength testing." [/B]Kreid sat down and began inputting Zaidin's results to his computer. As she ran through more and more of the tests, Kreid gradually came to the realisation that this innocent-looking young woman was a machine when it came to security. She knew the security protocols back to front, she was stronger, faster and fitter than most, if not any of the current recruits, and she was more methodical. [B]"Looks like you'll be after my job soon enough, Ms. Zaidin," [/B]said Kreid, joking on the outside, but internally he was beginning to feel nervous. Zaidin was good, almost too good to be assigned to Landers' personal security detail by chance. [B]"Congratulations, Ms. Zaidin," [/B]said Kreid, [B]"You've passed with flying colours. Now, if you will accompany me back to my office I will ensure that you are fully prepared for your duties." [/B]He would definitely have to keep an eye on her... [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]Pinewood Studios have just released the official title of the next Bond movie, the 22nd in the series, and the 2nd to star Daniel Craig as the tuxedo-clad, martini-drinking hero. Due for release November 2008, the new movie is titled "Quantum of Solace," which will presumably make more sense once details of the plot are released. To me, it sounds a little abstract for a Bond title, but I guess time will tell on this one. I'm looking forward to this film - I thought that Casino Royale was a refreshing new start for the series, far surpassing Die Another Day (which was good for what it was - a sort of 20th anniversary film, but one which I was not a huge fan of), and if it goes in a similar fashion, this one should be a good-quality action/espionage movie. So far, alongside Craig, Judi Dench will be returning as the ice-cold M, Jeffrey Wright as Felix Leiter, whom I was a big fan of in Casino Royale. Also rumoured to be returning are the characters of Mathis and Mr White, which is fairly intriguing. The only other addition to the cast I know of is a relative newcomer called Olga Kurylenko as "Camille," the Bond girl. Thoughts? Opinions? [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]Damn, it looks like everyone's ganging up on me...[/SIZE]

[B][SIZE=1]"Sir," [/SIZE][/B][SIZE=1]came Hirtius' voice over the comm system, [B]"We've found one of them." "Who is it? Do you have a name?" "No, sir, and I'm not sure we're likely to get one," [/B]replied Hirtius queasily, [B]"He's dead, sir. And not just dead - he's been torn apart. There's pieces of him everywhere - I don't think we're going to get a positive identification." "I've heard about these killings - organ harvesters, or genetic experimentation, something of the sort. There've been a number of murders like this in this sector recently," [/B]said a young security officer standing to Kreid's right. [B]"Do they have suspects?" "The most prominent is named Dr Mikhail Phantaxian, but according to all the news scans we've picked up there are a number of copycat killers out there." "I'll be planetside as soon as I can," [/B]said Kreid, [B]"Stay where you are, Hirtius - I'll be right there." "Yes, sir." "Prep the transportation doors. I'll be going planetside in twenty minutes." "Aren't you taking a team with you, sir?" "There's enough men down there already. I'll just meet up with them. I just need to go and check some things around the ship, but I'll be back in time for the door." [/B]Kreid walked out of the security room, and all the while a plan was formulating in his mind. These killers across the planet could come in very handy for dealing with a few loose ends. He headed towards the brig, purposeful in his stride. The door of the brig hissed open, and Kreid waved his security pass at the guard on the entrance. He nodded to the guard, who came closer to him. [B]"I've got some business I need to take care of in here, and the Commander doesn't really need to know about it. I need you to turn off all security cameras, and go and take a lunch break. And you're not to tell anyone about this, alright?" "Absolutely, sir," [/B]the guard said, turning his back on Kreid as he switched off all the camera feeds in the brig. As soon as the cameras were off, Kreid whipped out a pistol and blasted three rounds into the guard's back, dropping him to the floor, dead. Then he took the guard's weapon and placed it into the corpse's hand, curling the index finger around the trigger. He ran over to the cell which contained Kade Tyrell, the man Kreid himself had locked up so many months ago, and opened the door, stepping in and closing it behind him. Tyrell has long since discarded his jacket, and now sat in the cell wearing his trousers, boots and a dirty white vest. As Kreid came in, he looked up. [B]"Here to humiliate me some more, are you?" [/B]he asked. [B]"No, Tyrell," [/B]replied Kreid, [B]"I'm here to let you out." "What?!" "You heard me. I'm going to let you out of this cell, on a few conditions. Number one, you never tell anyone I let you out. Number two, if you get caught, I was never involved in this - you escaped yourself, and killed the security guard out there. Number three, you have to go straight to the transportation doors and jump in the nearest one which is going to take you down to the planet below. Do you understand?" "Why should I trust you? You were the one who locked me up in here in the first place, and now you're letting me out? I'm not buying it." "Let's just say that you and I...have similar goals. Now, are you going to accept this offer or not?" [/B]Tyrell looked at Kreid, presumably trying to suss out his allegiances, but eventually shrugged and said: [B]"Alright, I'll do it." "Good. Now, in thirty seconds I'm going to set this pistol to a high enough power that it will blow the lock out of the door. All you have to do is stand back, then when it is open, just run straight to the doors. Got it?" [/B]Tyrell nodded, and Kreid amped up the power on his pistol, aiming it at the electronic lock on the cell door. He took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger. A lance of bright red light shot from the end of the barrel and blew a huge chunk out of the door, leaving it swinging on its hinges in a cloud of smoke. [B]"Go," [/B]whispered Kreid, and Tyrell ran. Kreid got up slowly and stepped out of the door. By the time he had reached the guard's desk, Tyrell was long gone, and Kreid holstered his pistol and ran after him. They reached the room where the transportation doors were being operated, and Kreid got through the door just in time to see Tyrell leap into one of them, and disappear. [B]"Where was that door opening onto?" [/B]shouted Kreid to the operator, who was standing dumbstruck at the controls, [B]"Where was it opening onto?!" "The planet...down below," [/B]replied the operator nervously. [B]"Open another one to the same co-ordinates!" [/B]The operator did as he was told, and Kreid leapt into the door, and, after a brief nauseating sensation, his foot touched down on the solid earth. He looked around, and Tyrell was standing in the mouth of an alleyway a few feet away. Kreid walked over to him, and immediately punched him square in the jaw, flooring him and knocking him unconscious. He dragged the body into the alley and knelt over it. This was almost going too well... [/SIZE]

[center][B][U][FONT=Lucida Sans Unicode][SIZE=3]Chalk and Cheese[/SIZE][/FONT][/U][/B] [/center] [FONT=Lucida Sans Unicode][SIZE=2] Grosvenor-on-Wye: an idyllic, peaceful village in the southeast of England, mainly populated by the elderly and those not quite old enough to be classed as "elderly," but who are too sad to live anywhere else in the fucking country. There is one drinking establishment mainly concerned with the peddling of fine British ales which taste like they're made out of wood, and two shops, mostly catering to the many, many old women who live here. Honestly, it's a wonder we managed to fit in as well as we did. [/SIZE][/FONT][center][FONT=Lucida Sans Unicode][SIZE=2]---[/SIZE][/FONT] [B][U][FONT=Lucida Sans Unicode][SIZE=2]Chapter One: Arrivals[/SIZE][/FONT][/U][/B] [/center] [FONT=Lucida Sans Unicode][SIZE=2] As soon as my foot hit the cobbles, I knew I was in trouble, and as soon as my Gucci-clad arse slid off the leather seat of the sedan, that feeling was absolutely set in stone. Immediately I felt out of place, my Gucci suit and Armani sunglasses, my expensive haircut and even more expensive cologne, all in a place where it seemed the main fashion accessory was a god-damn colostomy bag. [B]"Jesus Christ,"[/B] I exclaimed, [B]"This should be a lot of fun."[/B] I sense that maybe Colm recognised that subtle hint of sarcasm in my voice, because almost immediately after Iid said the words, I was treated to a pair of strikes around the head with one of his dinnerplate-sized hands. The enormous gold ring on his middle finger didn't help matters either. [B]"Don't take the Lord's name in vain, you blasphemous little bastard,"[/B] he said, hauling his fairly extensive bulk out of the car. [B]"Ok, so when did it become blasphemy to take the Lord's name in vain, but alright to swear like a bleeding docker, Colm? Did I miss the fucking memo?" "Hey!"[/B] he said, his index finger now a fraction of a centimetre away from my face, [B]"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" "Do you kiss yours with that one?" "That's different. You were brought up by fine Irish Catholics. I was brought up by a pair of drunkards who communicated by beating each other about the house."[/B] [B]"Same thing in the end, I suppose,"[/B] I said, and Colm spluttered into a roaring fit of laughter, his jowelly face turning the same scarlet as his tie. It took him a minute to calm down before he could even talk to me. [B]"Remember, son,"[/B] he said, wiping the salty tears from the corners of his eyes, [B]"We're here to lay low. You really buggered up that last job, and the Chief wants us to keep quiet for a little while."[/B] [B]"That's why he sent us to a fucking ghost town?"[/B] I asked, maybe a little too loudly - half the population of the village were currently staring at this "odd couple" that had just invaded their peaceful little lifestyle and started shouting and cursing until the air turned blue. [B]"Sorry, folks,"[/B] said Colm apologetically, [B]"He's a youngster - doesn't know how to talk around us. Please, carry on about your business." [/B] This seemed to calm the oldies down, and they did as they were ordered. [B]"For fuck's sake, Dom,"[/B] he hissed at me, [B]"Does "keep a low profile" mean nothing to you?" "I just don't see why we have to keep a low profile in the fucking Twilight Zone, that's all. Why couldn't he post us in Paris, or Vegas?" "Because if we were trying to lie low in Vegas you'd get drunk, gamble all our money away and then shoot the place up. I know what you're like, and so does the Chief! That's why he's sent us here. No-one here does anything against the law - there's only one policeman and he's supposed to be almost a hundred years old."[/B] [B]"Well, surely that means we're gonna stick out like a frigid girl in Belfast. What we do is a little bit against the law, in case you hadn't realised in your sixty odd years doing this fucking job." "I've been doing this job for thirty-two years, you cheeky little shite,"[/B] Colm snarled, raising his fist and shaking it in that old-timey way that the older generation tend to fall back on, [B]"But don't try to change the subject. Just grab your bags and we'll go settle in, alright? We can finish this in the hotel room." "Wait..."room"? Singular? There's no fucking way I'm staying in the same room as you for three weeks!" "What's wrong with staying in the same room as me?" "You're an old bastard who snores like a bloody earthquake and farts like an erupting volcano. If we share a room for two nights, even, I'm going to have to kill you myself!" "We have to share a room. The Chief told me to keep an eye on you - how can I do that through a brick wall?" "Oh, and what the Chief wants, the Chief gets, eh? Tell me, Colm, how long have you been his whipping boy?"[/B] [B]"I ain't nobody's whipping boy, sonny jim,"[/B] Colm spat, [B]"Me and the Chief are friends, we go way back, that's why I do what he asks, alright?"[/B] [B]"Fine,"[/B] I said, holding my hands up in that universal gesture for "please don't beat the shite out of me". I grabbed my bags and followed Colm towards the hotel. [/SIZE][/FONT][center][FONT=Lucida Sans Unicode][SIZE=2]---[/SIZE][/FONT] [/center] [FONT=Lucida Sans Unicode][SIZE=2] This is my latest little story, just something I came up with on the fly. It's basically an "odd couple" kind of story about two Irish assassins sent to a small English village to lie low after a botched operation. There's going to be funny moments, sexy moments, action-packed moments, so watch this space for updates! Disclaimer: I do apologise if I've done any kind of a disservice to the Irish - I honestly don't mean to, I have nothing but the utmost respect for you, and in fact you're the British culture I identify most with, more so than even the English, of whom I am one. Also, Grosvenor-on-Wye is an entirely fictional town, one I totally made up. So don't go pretending like it's a real place.[/SIZE][/FONT]

[SIZE=1]Alright, lets have a go at this: [B]The History Boys: [/B]Excellent film - Alan Bennett is an excellent writer, and the actors are all superb. The story is interesting, slightly moving and very funny, and there are some incredibly witty lines in it. While the whole movie does feel like a play (probably because it was adapted from one), that is not a bad thing by any stretch of the imagination. The almost "episodic" nature of the film seems to fit the story very well. [B]Little Miss Sunshine: [/B]I saw most of this film last year for my Film course at college, but I was away for one lesson and missed the ending. So it was a pleasure to finally be able to finish it yesterday. While I don't normally like movies billed as "the funniest comedy of the year," I actually felt that this one was one of the funnier of last year. Steve Carrell actually put in a fairly mature turn as a [spoiler]homosexual scholar who is put into the care of his extended family after a suicide attempt[/spoiler], and Alan Arkin's role as a heroin-addicted old man was almost [spoiler]Mercutio-like, and ended in much the same way, unfortunately.[/spoiler]. [B]Hero [Jet Li]: [/B]I remember I liked this film the first time I saw it, as it was one of the first foreign-language films I saw, but now I've seen quite a number, this one seems to pale in comparison to many others. The visuals are stunning, admittedly, but the characters are a little on the cliched side. And here's where I go all Film-student on your *****: [B]That Obscure Object of Desire: [/B]A French surrealist film, directed by Luis Bunuel, about the lack of uniquity in the modern(ish) world. Although classed as a surrealist film, it is not as absurd as you might think. In fact, there are only a few elements in there which make it surreal, the main one being the constant switching between two actresses playing the female lead, presumably representing the super-ego and the id (it's all Freudian). Interesting, although not one of the better films I've seen recently. [B]Phantom of Liberty: [/B]Another French surrealist film by Luis Bunuel, although this one is a lot more fun than Obscure Object. This is a lot more surreal, and is almost Monty Python-esque in it's comic moments, of which there are a number. A few examples are: the army hunting foxes in their tanks; monks gambling, drinking, smoking and swearing; and a couple engaging in bondage in front of a room full of people. I had a lot more fun watching this one. [B]The Good Shepherd: [/B]Awful film. I've never watched a film for so long, featuring so many characters I care so little about. Matt Damon acted well, but the character (one of the first CIA operatives) was so unlikable and detached that I just got restless at the one and a half hour point, which also happened to be the halfway point. I actually endured this film for three hours, hoping there would be some sort of character development - a breakdown, something, but even after Damon's character had [spoiler]ordered his son's fiancee to be killed[/spoiler], he had no emotion at all. I very much recommend not watching this film, as you will never get those three hours back. [B]300: [/B]I don't care what everyone says, this movie is NOT the homo-erotic blockbuster of the century. It is the most manly movie I've ever watched - I wanted to be drinking beer and fighting and eating steak while I was watching it, but unfortunately could not do any of these things. I loved the visual style of Sin City, and this one compared extremely well to that one. The hunchback has become the butt of many jokes in my college, as well. [B]FILM COUNT: [/B]7 (The History Boys, Little Miss Sunshine, Hero, That Obscure Object of Desire, Phantom of Liberty, The Good Shepherd, 300) [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]Kreid shrugged off his encounter with Kiva relatively easy, although he couldn't shake the feeling that she would spell trouble for him later. Although, saying that, she did have the only ship which was worth making his escape on, and that could come in very handy eventually. He headed back to the security room, where he had a few mundane tasks to organise, replacing members of the security team killed in the previous attack on the ship, clearing a few other members of the general crew. Sort of ironic, when he, the Head of Security, hadn't been checked at all. As soon as he reached the room, it was abuzz with activity, people rushing around handing documents to each other; others tapping furiously away at their computers, and reams of paper where shooting out of the many printers around the room. [B]"What's going on here?" [/B]shouted Kreid over the noise, his clear, deep voice booming above all the ruckus, and everyone immediately fell silent. [B]"We're getting reports of a number of crew members going missing planetside. There are some on planet leave who are scheduled to return now who haven't checked in," [/B]replied one of the team members, clutching a stack of documents in his arms. [B]"So they've probably just gotten themselves caught up gambling, or whatever it is people do planetside." "That's what we thought initially, sir, but they've been gone too long for that explanation to be of any serious weight." "Alright, then," [/B]sighed Kreid, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, [B]"I'll assign a team to go down to the planet and investigate. Send all the relevant documentation to my screen, please." [/B]Kreid walked slowly but purposefully through the mess of the security room to his own personal, almost-unused office. He sat down in the leather swivel chair that sat behind the clear glass desk and lifted his computer screen up. Already somebody had sent the documents he needed to send a team down to the planet, and it was a simple matter of filling in a few details and adding his own digital seal to it, and sending it to the bridge. The system for authorisation was automatic, and didn't need anyone to man it, so the results came back momentarily. [B]Permission has been granted for you to send a team to the planet, Mr Kreid. [/B]He closed the documents and hailed his most trusted man on the comm system. [B]"Yes, sir? What can I do for you?" [/B]came the gruff voice of Kreid's former teammate. [B]"Hirtius," [/B]he said, [B]"It's good to hear your voice again, my friend. I need you to assemble a team to go down to the planet. A number of crew members have been going missing down there, and I need full reports. It's probably nothing, but I need to be sure - we've had too many close calls recently." "Yes, sir! It's an absolute pleasure," [/B]replied Hirtius. [B]"Good man. Stay in radio contact at all times, do you understand me?" "One hundred per cent." "Excellent. We have to go for a drink sometime, Hirtius - I feel like we only talk through red tape since I got this position." "That would be a pleasure, sir. I will contact you when we are planetside. Over and out." "Good luck. Over and out." [/B]Kreid shut off the comm system, and settled back in his chair for a moment. [I]It'll be a shame to leave Hirtius with these Alliance dogs. He's a good fighter. But he was the one who picked the losing side, I suppose. [/I][/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]The technicians had finally completed the repair work in the security room, and Kreid was standing in front of the main screen, a number of his team members milling around him. [B]"There's been some unauthorised activity down near the docking bay, sir," [/B]said one of them, handing Kreid a pile of documents, [B]"We believe it may have something to do with this mole that you've got us searching for." "Excellent work," [/B]replied Kreid, taking the documents and looking through them as the worker went back to his station. There were a number of fairly useless pieces of information, the results of some background checks on crew members, and medical reports for himself and a few other key members of staff aboard the flagship. [B]"We also have some unauthorised movement around the brig," [/B]said another of the team members, looking up briefly from her computer screen, [B]"Someone's gone in to visit one of the prisoners without security clearance." [/B][I]I knew Tyrell would be too much of a loose end, [/I]thought Kreid, looking back to his first few weeks on board the flagship, [I]I'd better go and make sure he's not letting anything on. [/I][B]"I'll take care of that," [/B]he said, [B]"I'll be back in a few minutes." [/B]He exited the security room, and as soon as he was sure he was alone in the corridor, he pulled out one of his guns and checked that everything was alright with it. He didn't want to kill anyone else and jeopardise his cover, but if he had to then he would silence Tyrell. He strode down towards the brig, holstering his pistol again, and swiped his clearance card, which had been updated to give him almost unlimited access to the ship, opening the main door to the brig. The brig was a much bigger place than one would expect, with high ceilings and a number of different levels. Clearly when the Versilans had designed this flagship they were expecting to take a number of prisoners and store them on board, perhaps negating the need for any kind of high-security detainment on any of the other flagships. Kreid waved his hand at the security guard at the main desk, who allowed him through without removal of his weapons, or anything else he had about his person. [B]"Has anyone been through here who isn't registered with the crew?" [/B]Kreid asked him. [B]"Just one, sir, but Commander Landers requested we give her special access to this prisoner." "Which prisoner?" "A man named Dalek - he's in cell 3A, just down the corridor there." "Thank you, sergeant," [/B]said Kreid softly, walking down the corridor towards the cell. At least there was nothing happening with Tyrell - although he was a loose end that would need tying up before Kreid was done. As he strode towards the cell door, it hissed open and a tall woman stepped out of the cell, closing the door behind her. [B]"Do you have clearance to be down here?" [/B]Kreid asked. [B]"I have the Commander's express permission," [/B]she replied, [B]"And who might be asking?" "I am Greydon Kreid, Head of Security on board this ship. I will need you to stay here until I can be certain that Landers allowed you to be here." "Ah yes, the new Head of Security. Such a shame what happened to Alexander, wasn't it?" "Indeed. Now, if you'll stay there for just a moment, I'll call through to the Commander." "I really don't have time for this, Mr...Kreid, was it?" [/B]This woman began to walk past him, but he grabbed her wrist and locked onto it, an almost vice-like grip. [B]"You will stay here until I can talk to the Commander," [/B]he said coldly, looking into her eyes, and being met with a cold stare which reminded him worryingly of his own. After a brief pause, she replied: [B]"Fine. I shall wait, but you should know you're getting in the way of important business." "I think you'll find nothing is more important than the safety of this ship," [/B]replied Kreid, letting go of her hand and pulling his communicator from his belt. He had a feeling this woman would be trouble. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]This sounds like a really good concept, and it seems like you've put a lot of effort into it. The rules are fairly simple, and should be easy to follow, which obviously helps in an "experimental" kind of RP like this. I do have one question regarding the whole "Tainted One" scenario. Surely, if the Dark One wins a challenge and then another player becomes Tainted, won't the Tainted One immediately know who the Dark One is? Is there some kind of rule in place that means they can't make their guess to you, or divulge the information to any of the other players? [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]It had been a few days since Kreid had killed Franklin and Andrews in the security room, and all traces of the incident were clearing up. He had been made acting Head of Security, and he proudly wore the badge on his chest. The autopsies had shown that both other security members had been killed by blunt traumas, most likely caused by the collision that had damaged most of the consoles in the security room. Kreid was busy overseeing the repairs to the consoles, happy that he had erased all evidence of his off-ship transmissions. He would ensure that he did not make that mistake again. Just before he had deleted the log, he had made one final communication to the Empire, stating that he would be under total radio silence from now on. He had even dropped his Versilan-made communicator into the refuse compactor, after ensuring that all necessary data had been transferred to a safely encrypted hard drive elsewhere on the ship. He wasn't taking chances any more. [B]"Can you make sure all the data you can save is transferred to the Commander's personal database?" [/B]he asked the technicians working on the consoles, who silently acknowledged his comment. [B]"Kreid," [/B]came the crackly voice on the room's last working communicator, [B]"I need you to come to the observation room on the main bridge." "At once sir," [/B]he replied, and deactivated the system, [B]"Continue with your work, men - I'll be back in a few moments." [/B]The men acknowledged him once more, and Kreid left the room, heading for the main bridge. As he strode down the corridors, he straightened the badge on his lapel, making sure it was all in order for the Commander. [B]"Ah, Kreid," [/B]said Landers as soon as he stepped into the bridge, [B]"I have good news for you." "And what might that be, sir?" [/B]he asked, ever polite as he smiled at his nemesis. [B]"We have decided that you will be made permanent Head of Security onboard the ship. You've done an excellent job in the past few days - Franklin would be proud of you." "This is a great honour, sir," [/B]replied Kreid, [B]"Alexander Franklin was a great man, and I only hope I can honour his life by doing as good a job as he did." "We all do, Kreid," [/B]said Landers with a smile, [B]"So, you will be co-ordinating directly with me on all matters of security. If I am not available for any reason, then you shall report to Spencer, who is not here right now. I will also be needing you to continue the search for the mole among the crew - we believe that Franklin was almost on top of it at the time of his death." "Unfortunately, sir, all the encryption keys that Franklin and Andrews used were lost when the console was destroyed. We'll have to start from scratch, and even that could take a while - the technicians are working on the repairs in the security room as we speak, but I have no idea when it will be up and running again." "That's fine. I realise I'm asking a lot of you under difficult circumstances, Kreid, but I have no doubt in my mind that you can do this job. You've proved yourself time and again in the field and in co-ordinating operations. Good luck." "Thank you sir. Will that be all?" "Yes, I should think so. If there is anything else, I will contact you over the communication systems." "Thank you, sir," [/B]Kreid said with a salute, before spinning on his heel and exiting the room. This was even better than Kreid could have planned. He was being put in charge of the operation which was trying to uncover himself. He could throw it off at every opportunity, and make life incredibly difficult for everyone else involved in the investigation. There was no more need for pointless bloodshed. The final layers of Kreid's trap were being set, and time was almost up for Daniel Landers. [/SIZE]

[B][SIZE=1]benwolfx[/SIZE][/B][SIZE=1], hi and welcome to OtakuBoards. This thread has not been updated for quite well over 6 years, so I'd imagine that it is pretty much dead now. When choosing an RP to sign up to, please go to the [B]Auditions [/B]forum and find one on the first page - this way, you are much more likely to find one which is alive. You may also wish to read the [URL="http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=58239"][B]Theater Guidlines sticky[/B][/URL] (click on the bold text to go there), and if you have any other questions then please don;t hesitate to ask myself or one of the other Theater Moderators. [B]THREAD CLOSED[/B] [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]The transport ship landed back in the hangar bay, and Kreid leapt out before it had even stopped moving. He landed at a run and didn't stop until he was almost at the security office. The refugees from Earth were safe back on board the flagship, and Kreid's assignments were all but completed. Still, there was the problem of his security breach being detected, and he needed to address it, no matter what kind of measures he may have to take. He knocked on the screen door of the security office, and Franklin waved him in. He pushed the door open and stepped inside the glass cube, walking swiftly but steadily over to the console that Franklin and another security team member were hunched over. [B]"Sir, I just came to report that the refugees are all safely back onboard. We've cleared everyone we know about from the surface of Earth, and sent anyone who needs medical attention to the sick bay." "Good work, Kreid. Me and Andrews are close to finding our mole now," [/B]replied Franklin, never looking up from the console, [B]"I tell you, this one's an elusive one. Whoever it is has managed to block all traces until now. Guess they must finally be slipping up." "I suppose you're right, sir," [/B]said Kreid calmly, although a single droplet of nervous sweat was running from his hairline down to his brow, [B]"At least we've almost got him now." "That's true. We'd be able to find him a lot quicker, too, if it wasn't for these blasted attacks on the ship. They've knocked the power down by ten percent, and looks like there's more to come. The Versilan fleet is due to drop out of hyperspace any minute, and that means we're in trouble." "If only Landers had gotten us out sooner." "It's all very well you saying that, but if we'd jumped to hyperspace earlier, we'd have had to leave anyone who was on Earth behind. And if you know Daniel Landers like I do, you know that's one thing he would never do." "Sir," [/B]said the security consultant sitting at the computer screen, [B]"We've got a signal match. We just need to trace it to an individual's personal computer - it'll take a couple of minutes, max." "Finally we get to take a look at this bastard," [/B]said Franklin, leaning over the console again, [B]"Stick around, Kreid. I'm going to need you to help me take this guy into custody." [/B]More beads of sweat now began to dribble down Kreid's forehead, dripping steadily into his eyes. He blinked to try and extract the salty liquid from stinging his eyes, but it continued to work its way down his face. He swallowed, and gave his response: [B]"Certainly, sir," [/B]he replied, [B]"Anything you need." "Are you ok, Kreid?" [/B]asked Franklin, looking up at him, [B]"You look terrible." "I think I'm just dehydrated, sir," [/B]replied Kreid, [B]"I haven't had much to drink since we reached Earth." "Well, let me get you some water," [/B]said Franklin, moving away from the console to a filter in the corner of the room, and poured Kreid a glass of water, [B]"Here you go," [/B]he said, handing his soldier the glass. Kreid drank it down, not quite realising how thirsty he had been. [B]"Sir, we've got the match. The computer's just uploading the profile now," [/B]said Andrews, clicking a few keys on the console. At that moment, a great quake ran through the ship, rocking it from side to side, as something hit the side. Kreid almost lost his balance, as did Franklin, but they both managed to regain theirs, while Andrews hit the floor hard. The lights shut off, and a dim red light lit up the security office. [B]"Kreid!" [/B]shouted Franklin over the noise and the hysteria of the rest of the crew, [B]"Save the information on that computer! We need to keep it from shutting down!" [/B]Kreid staggered over to the computer, only to be confronted by his own crew profile staring back at him from the screen. He grabbed hold of the console and jabbed at a few keys, trying to feign the act of saving the file while he actually attempted to delete it. It was at this moment that the ship righted itself, stopped shaking, and the lights went on, replacing the strange red light that had filled the security office. [B]"Never mind, Kreid, get out of the way," [/B]said Franklin gruffly, moving over to the console. Kreid was about to hit the key to delete the file, but Franklin stopped him just as his finger was a millimetre above the key. [B]"Kreid," [/B]he said coldly, [B]"It's you. It's been you all along, hasn't it?" [/B]The Head of Security had seen the file that had appeared on screen, and now his face was cold, emotionless. [B]"That's how you've been the top security member since the start. You're a Versilan spy!" [/B]He grabbed Kreid by the lapels and slammed him against the consoles at the side of the room, [B]"You are a traitor!" [/B]Kreid's nerves suddenly gave way to cold indifference, and he laughed at Franklin. [B]"You are the traitor, Franklin," [/B]he said, [B]"You and all the other stinking Resistance rats on board this ship. You don't realise, do you, that you don't stand a chance against the full might of the Versilan Empire? I've been taking your operation apart from the day I set foot on this ship." "You...are under arrest. You will be taken to the brig and kept there until such time as we can arrange a fair trial for you. But don't hold your breath, son. You're going to be in there a long, long time." "I doubt it," [/B]said Kreid with a smile, grabbing Franklin's wrists and bending them backwards until he grunted with pain and let go of Kreid's lapels. Then he grabbed Franklin by the arm, twisted it behind his back and slammed him headfirst into a console. The sparks flew out in all directions, arcing across the room, and Franklin's body convulsed as the power ran through it. Finally, the power ran out, and Franklin's body fell still. Kreid let go, and the body dropped limply to the floor. [B]"Stand still," [/B]came a small voice from behind Kreid, and he whirled round to see Andrews aiming a pistol at him, shaking in his boots. [B]"Why? Are you going to shoot me?" [/B]said Kreid, moving towards Andrews slowly, [B]"I bet you've never pointed a gun at anyone in your life, have you?" [/B]He stepped over to Andrews, ripped the gun from his hand and snapped his neck with a single fluid motion of his arm. The body fell to the floor, and Kreid smiled. His work here was all but done... [/SIZE]

[FONT=Georgia]Alright, good sign-ups so far, but you're all making a couple of things a little unclear (it's probably me being really dense, but if you could spell it out that would be good). I'm a little lost as to: a) your Vices. If you could possibly add a small section at the end of your sign-up, as Omega has done, detailing as fully as possible your individual vice then that would be good. b) your connection to the Barton case. Again, if you could put this in an extra section at the end of the sign-up then that would be much appreciated. Otherwise, great sign-ups all. And [B]demonchild[/B], if you could delete your previous post once you post your sign-up then I'd appreciate it. Thanks! [/FONT]

[CENTER][IMG]http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b16/Blayze54/barton.jpg[/IMG] [/CENTER] [center][FONT=Georgia][COLOR=White][B][U][SIZE=3]Barton[/SIZE][/U][/B] [I]This tale of bloody vengeance will contain adult themes. Violence, foul language, sex and drugs will be rife here, so beware - this is not a story for the faint of heart...[/I] The cold wind howled through the empty streets of London, the pale glow of the gas lamps creating puddles of light on the cobbles. Fog crept between houses and buildings, snaking it's way into every corner of the city. The streets were deserted, all save for one man. Mr Thomas F. Jackson stumbled through the fog, trying in a desperate drunken haze to find the front door of his house. His ragged top hat perched awkwardly on his head, and his long blue jacket was patched with squares of fabric which did not match the original cloth. He was just one example of the kind of squalid filth that populated London, the once-great capital of Her Majesty's Empire. All of a sudden, there was the sound of footsteps in the fog behind him. His senses awoke, as if he had snapped out of a long trance, and he began to run. There was no telling what kind of degenerate was persuing him, and he didn't much wish to find out. He ran, his head twisted to allow himself to look behind, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of the predator that was stalking him, when his body slammed into something, and fell in a crumpled heap to the floor. Thomas F. Jackson looked up at the object he had hit, and saw nothing but a man. A man, dressed in the remnants of fine clothes, now frayed and worn around the edges, faded from the years. His face was obscured by shadow, and no hat sat atop his crown. He stood over Thomas Jackson, and the look upon his face caused the man on the floor to whimper in absolute terror. [B]"Please..."[/B] he spluttered through a barrage of tears which he could not stop, [B]"Please...don't hurt me..." "It's too late for that, friend,"[/B] came the voice, hoarse and as chilling as the man who owned it,[B] "It was too late for that a long time ago." "I...I have a family...three children...you wouldn't hurt a family man..." "I had a family once,"[/B] said the man, [B]"But you, and people like you, took them away from me. Now it is time for me to take my vengeance." "Please, no...I'll give you money...take anything just don't hurt me!" "No choice, mate,"[/B] the man said, his voice dripping with sarcasm and irony, and he crouched down over the shuddering form of Thomas Jackson, revealing his face to him. Pale skin was framed by thick hair, as black as the very depths of Hell, and his crystal-blue eyes showed a hunger, a desire for swift, bloody vengeance. The face of the Devil looked down on Jackson this evening. He held a cut-throat razor in his hand, and he leaned in to whisper in Thomas Jackson's ear: [B]"Remember me?" [/B] Jackson's memory flashed back to him, through the haze of alcohol and fear that had previously clouded his mind, and saw that face, only much younger, healthier, but the recalled memory was cut short by the cold steel of the razor blade slicing through his neck. The final thing he felt through the rush of blood pouring down his body was the dull thump as something small but relatively heavy was dropped onto his chest. Then his vision faded, and his life drained out of him. --- London has always been the capital of Her Majesty's glorious and Holy Empire, and it was once a proud and beautiful city. But through years of neglect as the Empire expanded across the globe, it has become something very different altogether. It has become Hell on Earth. Between the taverns and the inns, the brothels and the opium dens, there was once law and order, tranquility. But even that has been stripped away by the power of corrupt government officials, taking bribes and surrendering to extortion and blackmail. London has become a city ruled by the criminal classes. However, there were a few who believed in the word of the law, who wished to uphold decency and honour in the city, who wished to end the years of decadence that had brought London to its knees. One such man was Alexander Barton, a happily married man who enjoyed the priviledges of an upper-class home in Cavendish Square. He wished to see a new and fresh start for London, free of all the horror and pestilence that ruled the labyrinthine streets. He and a number of others began work upon a plan which was to be sent to Queen Victoria herself, laying out suggestions to improve the quality of life in the city, including gathering money from all the wealthy individuals of any major standing in London, and spreading the money out to the poorer classes of people, to try and ensure that no-one would ever have to live in such appalling conditions again. But these plans came to the attention of a corrupt official by the name of Lord Edward Danvers, and he ordered the arrest of Alexander Barton and all his "co-conspirators." There was a lengthy court case, in which Barton and a number of his colleagues were sentenced to twenty years imprisonment for "acting against the will of Her Majesty the Queen of England." It is now fifteen years later, and after escaping his imprisonment, Alexander Barton has set up residence in Soho, and the time has come for his retribution against those who wronged him to be set into motion. Thomas F. Jackson was but the first of these vengeance killings, and he is by no means going to be the last. Welcome to a world of pain. --- Welcome to my new RP, a blood-splattered tale of vengeance in the time of Queen Victoria. This story will run a little differently to many of my others, and the story is based more around emotions and morals than fast-paced action and adventure. But that's not to say that this story will be slow - it will simply unfold in front of your eyes, and you can take pleasure in the fact that you are part of it. It is the story of Alexander Barton, a man wronged by a corrupt government, who wishes to take his revenge upon those who imprisoned him. This means the judge, the lawyers, the jury, and ultimately the man behind all of it, Edward Danvers. I will be playing the role of Barton, but I will by no means be the central character. Barton acts more as a shadow, simply observing what is occurring around him until the time is perfect for him to strike. No, it is you who will be creating the story. You will be playing the corrupt government who wronged Barton, the judge and jury who falsely imprisoned him, and the police trying to find him and stop him. There will be one character who wishes to help Barton, in any way they can - his next-door neighbour in Soho. This is an important position, and one of three which I insist must be filled before the game commences. The second position which needs to be filled is that of Lord Edward Danvers. I have purposely left his character and role vague in my introduction, so as to let you create the character in your own style. The only other character which needs to be played is a Police Inspector assigned to catch Barton. This will be a pivotal role in the story, as he will, in essence, be the mediator between Danvers and Barton. Other characters you can play as include: - Police Inspector's assistant who will be by his side at all times - Assistant to Danvers - The Judge who put Barton away - The lawyer who prosecuted Barton - Any member of the jury who sent Barton down (this is the loosest role you can play - a member of the jury will just be a member of the public, so you can have whatever job you wish, within reason) - the head of the prison that Barton was kept in Remember, this is Victorian London (think Sweeney Todd, Jack the Ripper, Jekyll and Hyde, the more gothic image of London), so keep your occupation and personal life relevant to this period. One more thing - characters will die in this story. Initially, I will just be killing off NPCs, but as the story continues and the plot thickens, even player characters won't be safe from Barton's blade. As a sign-up, I want a short piece (around 1000 words), which details your character's reaction to the murder of Thomas Jackson. Remember, your characters won't know that Barton is behind it - they probably won't even know that Barton has escaped. So they will discover that Jackson is dead, either through a direct source, or simply through the newspaper. I would like you to show their reaction to this incident, and include in the snippet: - Name - Age - Gender - Occupation - Social Standing (are you upper class? Or are you a street walker? Or anything in between?) - Vices (this section is especially important. Are you an opium addict? Obsessed with buying the cheap love of prostitutes? What is your weakness?) - Personality - Appearance If you cannot manage to fit a personality or appearance into your snippet, then please just state them afterwards (for appearance this can be with a picture if you so wish). Your character's history, as well as Barton's, will be revealed in the course of the RP, so there is no need to add too much to this. As is standard, there is a Backstage thread up here in which you can post any questions you may have. I look forward to discovering your characters.[/COLOR][/FONT] [/center]

[FONT=Georgia][SIZE=1][COLOR=Black][IMG]http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b16/Blayze54/barton.jpg[/IMG] [center[FONT=Georgia]][/FONT][FONT=Georgia][COLOR=White][B][U][SIZE=3]39 Wardour Street [Barton Backstage][/SIZE][/U][/B][/COLOR][/FONT][FONT=Georgia][/center] [/FONT] [FONT=Georgia][COLOR=White] [center][I][SIZE=1]When your idyllic existence is snatched from you without warning or reason, and your freedom is destroyed, what is there left to do, other than exact your brutal revenge on those who wronged you? This is the tale of Alexander Barton and the blood-soaked path he cut through the shady underworld of 19th Century London. Will you survive?[/SIZE][/I] [/center][/COLOR][/FONT][center][FONT=Georgia][SIZE=1][COLOR=White][B][U][SIZE=2]Dramatis Personae[/SIZE][/U][/B][/COLOR][/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Georgia][SIZE=1][COLOR=White][I]Alexander Barton:[/I][/COLOR][/SIZE][/FONT][FONT=Georgia][SIZE=1][COLOR=White]A man wronged by a corrupt government and falsely imprisoned for fifteen years, Alexander Barton now wants revenge. He has targeted all he believes were responsible for his downfall, and has no qualms about murdering them in the most vicious and bloodthirsty ways his deranged mind can come up with.[/COLOR][/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Georgia][SIZE=1][COLOR=White][I]Lord Edward Danvers [/I][/COLOR][/SIZE][/FONT][FONT=Georgia][SIZE=1][COLOR=White][I]Thomas F. Jackson:[/I][/COLOR][/SIZE][/FONT][FONT=Georgia][SIZE=1][COLOR=White]A juror in the court case which resulted in the imprisonment of Alexander Barton. A renowned alcoholic and frequent user of prostitutes and opium, and well-known as a scum-of-the-earth type. Deceased.[/COLOR][/SIZE][/FONT][FONT=Georgia][SIZE=1][COLOR=White][I] Cause of Death[/I]: Caught the wrong end of Alexander Barton's cut-throat razor across his jugular. Bled to death in Soho streets.[/COLOR][/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Georgia][SIZE=1][COLOR=White]---[/COLOR][/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Georgia][SIZE=1][COLOR=White]Welcome to 39 Wardour Street, Soho - the home of the vengeance-hungry, bloodthirsty Alexander Barton. This is where you can ask me anything you wish about Barton's world, and I will answer it as fully as I can.[/COLOR][/SIZE][/FONT][FONT=Georgia][SIZE=1][COLOR=White]It is also where I will be posting major plot developments, and the Dramatis Personae, which shall be completed as soon as I have my full cast of characters. This is a world of sadistic butchers and eloquent but insane serial killers - not a world for the faint of heart. The characters detailed here will be the most twsited, degraded bunch you would ever have the misfortune to meet.[/COLOR][/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Georgia][SIZE=1][COLOR=White]Do enjoy.[/COLOR][/SIZE][/FONT][/center] [/COLOR][/SIZE][/FONT]

[CENTER][IMG]http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b16/Blayze54/Almagest%20Legacy/dawlish-chronicle.jpg[/IMG] [/CENTER] [LEFT][FONT=Lucida Sans Unicode]Dawlish opened the shutters of his workshop, allowing the early-morning sunshine to flood into the dingy room, and forcing him to shield his eyes with a forearm against the radiance. He hadn't slept at all the previous night, but he didn't usually sleep that much anyway, so it was no big loss. He had been thinking all night about what Fauntleroy had said, and although he knew that it was probably the half-drunk ravings of an idiotic fop, he couldn't shake it from his thoughts. He found the crumpled remains of the previous night's outfit on the floor, and pulled the piece of paper from his jacket pocket. He unfolded it, hoping that it would set his mind at ease so he could continue with his work for the day. What he saw when he unfolded the paper was something he never expected. To be honest, he didn't really know what he had expected, but this definitely wasn't it. He looked down upon an old newspaper article, a yellowed page torn out of an archive copy of the Chronicle. It was a fairly small article, probably plucked from the back pages of the newspaper with the obituaries, but the headline was still in bold, clear writing. [B]Almagest Son In Refinery Accident[/B], the headline read, and Dawlish flattened the paper out on his workbench and sat down to read. [/FONT][INDENT][FONT=Palatino Linotype]Early yesterday morning, a refinery at one of the Almagest family's mines in Brigit Town was destroyed in an explosion, apparently caused by the waste gases from the Gems the Mines were created to collect. Several people were caught in the blast, including Daedalus Almagest's eldest son, Dawlish. Working as a supervisor to the activities at the Mine, Dawlish was carrying out a routine inspection of the refinery when it exploded. He is currently in a critical condition, and it is unknown whether he will make it out of the Infirmary alive at this stage. But the events leading up to this supposed "accident" have cast some doubts over the reasoning for it. Many eye-witnesses, mostly mine-workers, claim they saw someone tampering with the refinery early that morning, and when they went to confront the saboteur, they were threatened at sword-point. None of them managed to identify the figure, although some claim it was a large man, dressed entirely in black. Whether these eye-witness accounts are reliable is currently debatable. So was Dawlish Almagest the unfortunate victim of an horrific accident, or was he the unknowing victim of a murder plot? A court case must surely follow, in which we will hopefully find the answer to this question. [/FONT][/INDENT][FONT=Lucida Sans Unicode]Dawlish read the article three times, then a fourth, before sitting back in his chair, taking a deep breath and re-folding the paper, tucking it into one of the many pockets in his scarlet overalls. He would definitely confront his Father later in the day, and he should probably find Jacob after he failed to at the party. But right now, it was time for him to go to work. He picked up his identification slip and tucked it into his top left pocket, then headed out of the door on his way to the Magitech Corporation head offices. [/FONT][/LEFT]

[SIZE=1]Kreid stood under the jet of hot water that gushed forth from his shower, and didn't move for at least twenty minutes. He wanted the sweat, the grime, the dirt to wash from his body before he did anything else. He hadn't even reported to Landers yet, although he knew that the Commander would be expecting him. He toweled his hair and body dry and put on a fresh set of clothes, before switching on his personal video screen to see a message waiting from Landers. He played it, and immediately the Commander's face appeared on-screen. [B]"Kreid, we have another assignment for you. There is a Versilan fleet incoming, and we still haven't picked up all the refugees from Earth. We need you to help with the runs to and from Earth to pick up the rest of them. Head down to the docking bay as soon as you get this." [/B]The transmission cut out, and left Kreid alone in his silent room. He picked up his belt and a few other belongings, strapping them to his person, and left the room, heading towards the docking bay as Landers had ordered. [B]"Kreid," [/B]shouted Hirtius from a nearby ship, [B]"You're with us! How about getting the old team back together!" "Couldn't choose finer men to be with if I tried!" [/B]lied Kreid, jogging towards the ship and hopping on board, strapping himself into the passenger seat in the cockpit, Hirtius taking the controls. [B]"We'll try and do this without anyone dying this time, right?" [/B]he joked, and Kreid smiled and nodded. He wasn't sure how much longer he could continue pretending to get along with these people. [B]"Ready for take off?" [/B]asked Hirtius, looking around, and, receiving nods from all the passengers, he radioed in to the bridge with the same question. [B]"Absolutely," [/B]came the voice of one of the security detail through the communicator, [B]"Just remember to send all further comms through a private channel. Franklin's taken all other comms off-line to search for the origin of those messages we tracked. Apparently they were sent by someone in security, so as you can imagine, they're being pretty anal about it." [/B][I]What? [/I]thought Kreid, [I]How the hell did they manage to trace those messages? They were encrypted far beyond the level of anyone on board the flagship. I definitely need to look into this further once we get back from Earth. [/I][B]"Lift-off!" [/B]shouted Hirtius in his own boorish way, slamming the power on the ship and blasting out of the hangar doors, speeding back towards the home planet of the human race. [B]"Can't believe those messages they found were sent from security. If you can't trust you lot, who can you trust, eh Kreid?" [/B]Hirtius asked with a wink in Kreid's direction. [B]"Who knows?" [/B]replied Kreid, getting his composure back, [B]"Least we get to save some refugees while they're doing all that." "Yeah, I guess you're right," [/B]replied Hirtius, [B]"Proper military work, that's what I signed up for. None of that poncing about with computers that lot are doing." "Damn right," [/B]said Kreid with a smile, [B]"Now let's get these people rescued!" "I like the way you think, Kreid!"[/B]yelled Hirtius with a joyous whoop, and he plunged the ship down towards Earth. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]Just finished my first post in a while - sorry if it all seems a bit rushed, I've backed up two different objectives which I had to complete before we move on. I'll try and post a little more often from now on so I don't have to rush a post like that one. I'm looking forward to things getting "very interesting," and with all the nefarious deeds he's doing, I'm not sure how much longer Kreid can stay undercover. Someone must have noticed by now, heh. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]Kreid watched as the last of the refugees were helped onto a transport ship, to be taken back to the flagship, and could barely contain his disgust as he watched the endless human scum be led to safety. He had managed to dispatch a number of higher-ranking Alliance individuals, not too many so as not to raise any suspicions about his motives, but enough to keep the Alliance wary. As he loaded the last few onto the ship, his communicator buzzed, and he moved a few feet away to respond to the call. It was Commander Landers, calling with yet another new assignment. [B]"Kreid," [/B]he said, [B]"We've just received some information that there are some troops surviving from the transports that were shot down. They're pretty near you right now, so I need you to go and pick them up. And do it quickly, we're not going to be around here for much longer." "Understood, sir," [/B]said Greydon, [B]"I'll do my best." "Good man," [/B]said Landers, and he cut the transmission. Kreid rounded up a few of his men, loaded the co-ordinates that Landers sent him through onto his computer and jumped onto a transport ship that was laying nearby. --- Not long after, the team had located the survivors, some of whom were injured, but they were all pinned down by Versilan gunfire. [B]"Two people stay on board, and take out those Versilans," [/B]Kreid ordered, [B]"The rest of you, come with me!" [/B]He and six others leapt from the craft onto the ground, and the craft veered off towards the Versilans who were shooting at the Alliance members. Kreid looked back, and saw the ship fly low over the Versilans, the downdraft of the ship knocking them all off their feet, and sending their weapons skittering across the floor. Kreid ran over to the Alliance members, and helped the injured ones to their feet. [B]"Come on!" [/B]he shouted, laying down covering fire with his one free hand, while the other helped a wounded man to the transport. He loaded them all on, then watched as the Versilans retreated towards their own transport. [B]"Where are you going?" [/B]he muttered, watching them climb aboard, then quickly pulled a cartridge from his belt which glowed with a soft blue light, and slammed it into his rifle. He took aim quickly, and fired it towards the ship, which was now taking off. The shot lodged itself into the base of the craft, and now Kreid could track their movements from his computer. He leapt back on his own transport as it took off, barking orders to the pilot as it did. [B]"Load the program from my computer into the flight computer," [/B]he shouted over the engine noise, [B]"We need to follow that transport!" [/B]The pilot nodded to him, and signalled for the co-pilot to load the information in, while Kreid moved into the back and activated his comms. He hailed Landers, who answered. [B]"Sir, we've got the survivors on board," [/B]he shouted, the roar of the engines all but drowing his voice out, [B]"But the Versilans escaped. I've attached a tracer to one of their transport ships, so we should be able to trace them from here. Requesting permission to persue." "Permission granted, soldier," [/B]replied Landers, [B]"But whatever it is you're planning to do, do it quickly." "Thank you sir!" [/B]he shouted, deactivating the comms and heading into the cockpit, where the flight information had been loaded. [B]"From their current path, it looks like they're heading towards the moon, sir," [/B]the pilot yelled, [B]"There must be some kind of safehouse for the Versilans there!" "I know where it is - there's only one, and it's pretty small. There's probably only the Versilans from that transport heading there - we should be able to apprehend them easily, and try to find out if they've taken any prisoners. You just need to land a fair distance away so we can take them by surprise!" "Yes, sir!" [/B]shouted the pilot. Although no official chain of command had been established for this team, they all seemed to have adopted Kreid as their captain - he was the most experience man here, and they all recognised this. Kreid sat down in the back of the transport, where members of his team were tending to the wounds of the injured, bandaging them up as best they could. [B]"Just try and keep them alive for as long as you can," [/B]said Kreid to one of the medics, [B]"The medical bay back on the flagship should be able to handle this." [/B]The man nodded in reply, and went back to his work. The back of the ship was disgusting now - there was dirt everywhere from repeated boardings, and the smell of sweat was now mingling with the stench of blood from the wounded. Kreid himself was dirty, the smog from the air plastering itself to his face with sweat, and his clothes hadn't been changed in days. He was disgusted to be in this place, in this condition. [B]"Sir!" [/B]came a call from the cockpit, [B]"We're about to land - we've just located the safehouse!" "Excellent," [/B]replied Kreid, [B]"Everyone who doesn't need immediate medical attention, and anyone who isn't qualified to give it, you're all coming with me. There are weapons in the landing bay - you'll need to tool yourselves up as best you can. Expect resistance!" [/B]A few minutes later, the craft was landed, and everyone except the injured and the qualified medics was outside the Versilan base, each member of the newly-enlarged team equipped with a pistol at the very least. [B]"Stand back," [/B]said Kreid as he sent one of his men towards the door, ready to place an explosive pack on it. The man clamped the device to the door and then retreated swiftly, diving behind the rocks that Kreid was behind as the detonation occurred. Flames spewed out, the doors buckled and broke off their hinges. [B]"Go!" [/B]shouted Kreid, forcing his team to charge towards the safehouse. As soon as they reached the door, however, laser bolts began flying towards them, hurling the first few to the floor. The fire continued to blast towards them, knocking Kreid's team to the floor. Kreid managed to get inside, with one or two others, but the rest of the team had been slaughtered as they had reached the door. [B]"Return fire!" [/B]shouted Kreid, raising his own rifle to blast at the opposition, taking out a number of them as he went. He continued to fire, as the men with him followed suit. They managed to take out the Versilans who were guarding the doors of the safehouse, but Kreid expected that there were many more further inside. He ran over to one of the groaning Versilans, and rolled him over onto his back. He was bloodied and bruised, and gasping from a smoking laser burn in the centre of his solar plexus. [B]"Did you take any prisoners from Earth?" [/B]Kreid shouted, [B]"Were there any prisoners?!" "Y...yes..." [/B]gasped the ailing Versilan, [B]"There are three...in this safehouse. You'll never get the...them..." "That's what you think," [/B]snarled Kreid feigning rage as he aimed his pistol directly at the Versilan's head and pulled the trigger. [B]"There are three prisoners in here!" [/B]Kreid shouted to the other two men who had survived the initial onslaught, [B]"We need to get to the central control room of the safehouse - that's where they'll be!" [/B]The men nodded, and Kreid grabbed the keycard that was hanging from a dead Versilan's lapel, swiping it across the door sensor, allowing the door to hiss open and reveal the central chamber, where a number more Versilans were waiting, armed and ready to kill. Kreid grabbed the weapon off one of the dead Versilans, and ripped the power core out of it's socket, breaking the casing as he did. He threw the broken power core into the room, and simultaneously fired a shot at it, causing it to burst into flames, throwing smoke into the air of the small, cramped control room. As the Versilans inside were blinded, Kreid closed his eyes, and looked into his memory to remember where they had all been standing, firing four shots into the room, one for each Versilan inside. He heard four grunts, and four thuds as they each hit the ground, then he stood up and stepped inside the room, where the smoke was just beginning to clear. There were three hostages, all strapped into seats, and four wounded, groaning Versilans lying on the floor, their weapons a few feet away. Kreid stepped into the room, pulled out a small knife and cut the hostages free. Then he grabbed the bindings that the Versilans had used, and strapped the Versilans themselves together. [B]"Take the four of them back to the ship," [/B]said Kreid coldly, [B]"And knock them unconscious - we don't need four babbling Versilans ruining our trip back to the flagship." [/B]The two team members did as they were ordered and frogmarched the Versilans out of the building and back towards the ship. [B]"You three come with me," [/B]said Kreid, leading the hostages back to the ship, through the trail of dead bodies that lay between the control room and the ship. As soon as everyone was on board, including the now-unconscious Versilans, Kreid ventured up to the cockpit, and told the pilot: [B]"Take off. And let's get back to the flagship."[/B] [/SIZE]

[center][IMG]http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b16/Blayze54/Almagest%20Legacy/dawlish-chronicle.jpg[/IMG][IMG]http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b16/Blayze54/Almagest%20Legacy/fauntleroy-chronicle.jpg[/IMG][IMG]http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b16/Blayze54/Almagest%20Legacy/harrison-chronicle.jpg[/IMG][IMG]http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b16/Blayze54/Almagest%20Legacy/helen-chronicle.jpg[/IMG] [/center] [FONT=Lucida Sans Unicode] Dawlish shifted uncomfortably in his navy-blue suit, his usually-scruffy hair tied back into a loose ponytail, just a few strands at the front falling down over his forehead. He hated formal occasions, as they always required him to wear such idiotic attire as this - he would much rather be wearing a pair of overalls with goggles pulled down over his eyes, hunched over his workbench with some new creation than here. He despised the public scrutiny the members of his family were constantly put under, even more so since the Chronicle had published an in-depth article regarding his accident. Just as he picked up a flute full to the brim with Czenovia's finest champagne, he saw his foppish cousin Fauntleroy swaggering over towards him, an idiotic smile on his face. [B]"Ah, cousin," [/B]he said, slurring his words just a little, [B]"How goes your evening?" "You can't be drunk already, Fauntleroy. The party's barely even begun." "I waste no time in enjoying myself, Dawlish - I have embraced this family's heritage, while you sit around in your workshop with the shutters closed." "You embrace this family's heritage? By getting drunk on champagne and flitting from one job to another? What do you even want, Fauntleroy?" "I just wanted to let you know that a friend at the Chronicle may have...come across some information regarding the, um..." [/B]his gaze darted to Dawlish's leg and back again, [B]"Incident...which lost you your most favoured of appendages." "There's no need to call it an incident, Fauntleroy - that implies there was someone to blame. This was an accident - everyone knows the story." "Really?" "Yes - the Gem refinery I was working on malfunctioned, and it exploded. Simple as that - there's no conspiracy around it, Fauntleroy." "But what if it wasn't an accident, but an incident? Take this," [/B]he offered a folded piece of paper, [B]"And think about it. And make sure you give the full story to the Chronicle when you're done. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Dawlish." [/B]Dawlish snatched the paper away from his cousin, who sauntered off into the midst of the crowd, and tucked it into his inside jacket pocket, intending to dispose of it at the first opportunity. He took a mouthful of champagne and then headed off after Fauntleroy to try and find Nellie again. Out of the entire family, she was the only decent conversation around here. Eventually, after being forced to greet and make small talk with a number of guests who he felt were not worth his while, he caught sight of Nellie, who was talking with a single person. As he ventured closer, he groaned, seeing that it was his youngest brother, Harrison. [B]"Dawlish," [/B]he moaned as the eldest sibling got closer, [B]"Get Nellie off me!" "Nellie has every right to keep a hold on you, Harrison," [/B]said Dawlish, [B]"You're a pain in the neck, and you need to be kept a close eye on." "But I [I]hate [/I]these parties!" [/B]he groaned. [B]"Listen," [/B]said Dawlish, his voice lowering as his face got closer to his little brother, [B]"I don't like these parties any more than you. But I stick through them, because of Dad, and Uncle Leonhart. So show a little bit of gratitude for what they've given you, even if you can't stand the sight of them, alright?" "Fine," [/B]replied Harrison, losing eye contact in that typical moody teenager way. [B]"Now go and sit down somewhere," [/B]said Dawlish, [B]"You need to calm down." [/B]He watched as his younger brother sulked off to an empty space. [B]"You handled that well," [/B]said Nellie, a smile creeping onto her face, [B]"You know, Harrison really looks up to you." "Well he really shouldn't," [/B]said Dawlish, [B]"I'm a grumpy old so-and-so at the best of times, there's no reason for him to follow in my footsteps." "Oh, I don't think Harrison could ever be as grumpy as you. In fact, I think the only person who could ever be grumpier than you is...well, Dad." [/B]This comment brought out the tiniest of smiles on Dawlish's face. [B]"There you go," [/B]said Nellie, [B]"That's the Dawlish I grew up with." "Have you seen Jacob around?" [/B]he asked after a pause of a few moments, [B]"I need to speak to him about something Fauntleroy said." "Oh, I shouldn't pay heed to anything Fauntleroy says. But if you really do need to talk to Jacob, then Father probably knows where he is. I think I saw him talking to Uncle Leonhart not long ago." "Thanks, Nellie," [/B]he said, grabbing her shoulder in the most grateful way he could muster, then heading back off into the crowd to try and find their father. [/FONT]

[RIGHT][LEFT][FONT=Lucida Sans Unicode] Dawlish sat hunched over his workbench, the only light coming from the tiny oil lamp that hung over it, softly glowing as he worked. His metal leg creaked occasionally as he shifted position, something that had become the bane of his life over the past few years. He pushed his goggles up with one hand, in the same motion smearing oil across his sweaty face. He sighed, and placed the object he was working on down on the bench, leaning back in his tall chair and pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. [/FONT] [/LEFT] [/RIGHT] [FONT=Lucida Sans Unicode] There was a knock at the door, and even though Dawlish did not respond, the door creaked open a few seconds later, and the head of his sister poked through. [B]"Dawlish?" [/B]she said, squnting into the gloom of his workshop, [B]"Are you in there?" "I'm here, Nellie," [/B]he mumbled, and his sister picked her way through the various pieces of metal and clockwork that lay strewn around the floor, until she was standing next to his workbench. [B]"My God, Dawlish, what do you look like?" [/B]she said, [B]"There's only a couple of hours till the party - you'd better get yourself cleaned up." "I'm not going, Nellie," [/B]said Dawlish, reaching up to pull his goggles back down, when his sister's hand grabbed his wrist, stopping him from moving. She had an alarmingly strong grip - probably down to her working as a personal guard to Augustine Beauteous. [B]"Dawlish, this is Uncle Leonhart's 65th birthday. Events like this don't come along all that often - you'd do well to forget your moody demeanour for the night and come to the party." "They don't happen all that often? There's so many people in this family now barely a day goes by without someone celebrating something - a birthday here, an anniversary there, a divorce in the case of Macey Ellen and Vincent." "Don't joke about that, brother," [/B]said Nellie firmly, [B]"That was a serious thing - they were both heartbroken that it didn't work out, and all that press coverage didn't really help." "Sorry - anyway, the point I'm making is that I don't see why we have to celebrate every major event in the lives of every one of the Almagest clan." "This one is important. You know how important Uncle Leonhart is to this family - if his family don't turn out for the party, the press will be all over it, and you know that." "I attended your birthday party this year, Nellie, and father's. Isn't that enough for these people?" "Dawlish, you are going to get out of those filthy clothes, wash your face and put on something smart. Then you are going to come to the party, and pretend you are having a good time. Otherwise I may lose all respect I ever had for my big brother and punch you." "Fine," [/B]said Dawlish, throwing his goggles down on the bench, [B]"But I'm doing this under duress - I'm not doing it for the family." "It's the only way I can ever get you to come to these things," [/B]said Nellie with a smile, escorting Dawlish out of the workshop and extinguishing the light as she went. [/FONT]

[SIZE=1]Brilliant - thanks a lot cancer![/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]Hey there, all you artistically gifted ones. I'm looking for a new avatar and banner set, using the attached picture. The avatar should have just an image on it, no writing at all, and maybe a border. Colour schemes are mostly up to you, but I would advise keeping it black and green to match the image. The banner should have the words "I'm Evil!" on it, maybe with the same border as the avatar. Again, green and black colour scheme would be preferable, but if you have any other ideas then please feel free to use them - you're the artistic ones! Thanking you very much in advance. [/SIZE]