Flash

If this kind of shit was happening on a regular basis in my homeland, I'd never stop fighting, regardless of how big or undefeatable the enemy may be. Hamas may be complicit in some of this too--it takes two to tango--but Israel is far, far more at fault here in my eyes. Hamas is like an angry child, throwing rocks; Israel is like an adult who turns around and launches a hellfire missile at the child in response.    Israel has one of the largest most well-equipped, most technologically advanced miltiaries in the world, and they are obliterating Gaza at the moment--have a look at these before & after satellite pictures to see the extent of the damage. Were all those crops & houses Hamas strongholds? Even if a single one of those buildings were, is this really the kind of situation you can take a unilateral "bomb everything, sort it out later" approach to?   And just as Hamas must know they cannot destroy Israel, Israel itself must know that they are not destroying Hamas, merely fuelling the fire and ensuring that more and more Palestinians will take up arms, and guaranteeing conflict for generations to come. And with the United States spouting condemnation of the school shelling while simultaneously supplying billions of dollars of ammunition to Israel, I think there is a heavy dose of the military industrial complex at work here as well.   Regardless of cause or blame, my heart bleeds for the innocent families of Gaza caught in the crossfire, and I sincerely hope this latest round of hostilities comes to a close soon--a sentiment I think we can both agree on.

  I never thought I'd say this but I literally cannot even

  *cracks knuckles*  

  I wish I was still a Super mod so I could shut it down all over again  :wink:   Personally I would love to "get the old team back together" and give it a try. I'm a lot older and wee bit wiser now (so I look back on some of my older RPing efforts with a cringe...  Not that they weren't fond memories ofc), and the message board format works well for me as my free time is sporadic. 

I am fairly certain my last post here was some kind of "omg, it's been so long!!1" type of deal, and now a few years later here I am again, haha. :) It's awesome to see some names I recognise--Shy, SaiyanPrincessX, James; glad to see you are all doing well. Speaking of the old guard, I can see it's PiroMunkie's birthday as I type this, so Happy Birthday if you ever read this, old chum.   So what am I doing, like, right now? Well, I can tell you I've just been on a massive nostalgia trip trawling through what used to be the Roleplaying & Storytelling forum--So many of our old threads and games are still there, frozen in time, it's surreal. Feels like I'm walking through the empty halls of my old high school or something. (By god, I wish we had finished Maverick Hunters: Personification!)   I won't bore you with the gory details of my sordid past so here's the synopsis--worked for the tax department, got fired for being a daydreamer who did no work and spent all my time writing stories, survived an earthquake, survived another much worse earthquake, got a graphic design qualification, met my long-term girlfriend of four years, got a design job with a big media company, moved around the country, survived ANOTHER earthquake....   And now most recently, my partner and I have moved back to our home city of Christchurch, and have just bought a house together! It's a pretty grown-up thing but I am still very much just a big kid--still playing way too many video games, still watching cartoons and anime (although I just watched Eva Rebuild 3.0!), still getting lost in my own imagination writing short stories and drawing maps and pictures that no-one else is ever likely to see, hehe.   To any other oldies who might stumble across this at some point in the future--Rahia, Rico, TN, Seph, Warwick, Neil, and the many others I've no doubt forgotten... I miss you guys, and I hope you are all doing well.   -Flash

[B]--- Environment Emulation Area, C Sector Maverick Hunter Headquarters 0214 hours ---[/B] Reverb sprung from the tall grass in which he lay. Two of the mechs were within arm's reach already, and he caught them from the flank. He grabbed the massive prog sword at his hilt and drew it from it's scabbard. Like a hot knife through soft butter the blade dismembered the smaller two of the suit's four arms. Unfortunately for the occupant of the mech, this meant the amputation of both arms. A burst of blood and other essential fuels erupted from the severed limbs, but the stream of black and crimson was quickly halted as the suit closed the gaping wounds with a metal plate that formed from a hazy cloud of grey smoke. Nanomachines, Reverb thought to himself. Usually, this is where the man would go down. He would scream in agony while the shock came to him, cut nerves all through his shoulders and spine firing constant signals of raw pain. Pain debilitating enough to drop a grown man to the floor and weep. Usually. But not this man. Once the gashes in the front of the suit were sealed, the mech retaliated. Rather than losing himself to shock or panic, the man was in a trance; a drug-induced rage incited with a near-lethal dose of morphine, adrenaline, steroids and powerful reflex and perception augmenting agents as well. Could Reverb have seen into the eyes of the pilot within the armoured shell of the mech, he would find the bloodshot eyes of a madman possessed with bloodlust akin to a berserker of old. The mech was deadlier now than when it got attacked. Being that it had only lost it's smaller secondary arms, it was still fully equipped with it's primary armaments. A three-barreled vulcan cannon integral in the suit's right forearm began to spool, making an unmistakable whirring that always signaled imminent destruction. Reverb gritted his teeth and swore, diving headlong into the tall grass. He dived into a roll and sprung to his feet, running as fast and as low as he could from the suit and it's rotary cannon. It lay down a heavy pelting of 50 caliber rounds into the thick field in the direction that Reverb had fled--But Reverb was already far from his previous position. As the mechs prepared to pursue, a message came across their radio. The squadron complied instantly. In a seemless transition of texture and colour, the mechs now sported ACU digital camouflage. Although they were large and cumbersome, they blended in with the surroundings far better than either of their reploid adversaries did. The two stealthy mechs behind Reverb hunched over and began their pursuit. [B]--- Upsilon Armoury, C Sector Maverick Hunter Headquarters 0216 hours ---[/B] Valcourt's mechanized suit shuddered as it powered up. Screens flashed and lights flickered as the holding arms retracted and the suit became fully operational. The Lieutenant-Colonel's suit looked the same as the rest of the platoon's, but there were subtle differences. It was taller, for one; if only by several inches. It's primary weapon was a pair of vulcan-cannons, each of them a six barreled monstrosity capable of laying out six-thousand 25mm rounds a minute. These were both mounted on the mech's oversized right arm, while the left arm was essentially a field howitzer. Bursts of steam and white light flared from the suit's exhaust vents as it's mobility engines came online. These mech suits, officially designated the ME40 Mechanized Exoskeleton, were planned for deployment with the few human battalions in the Maverick Hunter ranks. Duke had other ideas of course, assigning an elite team of his personal Emerald Militia to pilot the squadron, which numbered more than 25 of these high-tech exosuits. At full pace they could comfortably run at 60km/h, 70 at full tilt. And that was without activating the vector thrust jets; powerful boosters which could instantly dash the suit in any direction with acceleration comparable to a jet aircraft. A roaring blue flame exploded from the primary boosters on the back of the suit, sending it flying down the wide C-sector main accessway. Upsilon Armoury was only several hundred meters from the Environment Emulation Area via the accessway; a distance covered in a matter of seconds by the speeding mech. Valcourt eased off the throttle as he came to the turn-off to the EEA. He followed the vehicle access route, and came before a large metal door that lead into the staging area, which in turn lead to the battle room. The heavy-looking door split in two horizontally, one side sliding down into the floor and the other up into the ceiling. As soon as Valcourt had stepped through the opening, it closed swiftly behind him. "Valcourt, engaging." the Lieutenant-Colonel said softly into his headset. He was met with a chorus of "Acknowledged" from all the remaining mechs in the EEA. As one of the suits responded, his words were shattered by a scream of sheer agony that lasted only a second before being engulfed in grating static. Gritting his teeth, Valcourt ran into the long grass and thick fog that lay in the battle room beyond. [B]--- Environment Emulation Area, C Sector Maverick Hunter Headquarters 0218 hours ---[/B] Demos stood with a foot on the chest of the fallen mech, a stream of blood flowing from the gaping hole that went right through the armoured husk of the exoskeleton and through the chest of it's unfortunate pilot. The Hunter's energy sword still extended from his right buster into the wound. Any blood that splashed onto the crackling white blade spat and hissed as it disappeared in a puff of putrid crimson steam. Demos deactivated his sword and stepped off his dead opponent, only to come face to face with another mech--specifically, the one equipped with the air-burst charge weapon. Before Demos could even raise his buster in defense, the exosuit had dashed back three meters and aimed it's weapon. "Exo-3, encountering Demos!" the pilot screamed into his headset as he squeezed the trigger and fired the air-burst at the Maverick Hunter. The reploid braced himself, although to no avail. He was flung backwards as the compressed ball of air hit him, tossed like a ragdoll some thirty meters back and into a large rock. He hit it hard and flipped over, landing violently on his back. He groaned, and got to his feet quickly. Already, he could see the suit dashing towards him. As it lurched forwards, a rustling in the bushes next to the exoskeleton caught Demos' attention. A ball of electric blue fire pierced the fog, and reduced the right shoulder of the mech to molten slag. The right arm, carrying the heavy air-burst weapon shuddered and cracked as it became dislocated from it's damaged frame. With no shoulder and it's internal mechanics all but destroyed, the arm crashed to the ground, crippling the massive suit. From out of the thick pasture jumped Reverb, delivering a strong kick to the core of the machine which saw it stumble back, giving the Reploid enough room to draw his sword. His blade in hand, the Elite Hunter lunged at his enemy. The mech, however, counter-attacked with an ionized saw-blade; an ultra-high frequency vibrating weapon like Reverb's progressive sword. The two blades created an intense sonic harmony when they struck each other--so intense that when the blades collided, they manifested a deafening shockwave and were flung apart. This brief lapse in combat was interupted with a booming order from Demos. "Reverb, [i]move![/i]" Of course, Reverb couldn't help but look in his commander's direction. Demos held the severed arm of the mech and the air-burst weapon it wielded over his shoulder like a bazooka. Reverb's eyes widened in disbelief, and the reploid threw himself clear. The Exosuit turned to face the Hunter Commander, it's ionized saw blade still spinning and glowing with a white aura. Demos smirked and materialized the Fox-III buster in his free hand. He pointed the barrel of his buster across the barrel of the massive breeching weapon, and produced a small blue flame from his own weapon. "Burn, motherfucker." Demos whispered under his breath, and activated the air-burst. Just as he had planned, the compressed oxygen ignited fiercely as it passed the flame from the Fox-III. The massive, burning ball of air and fire hit the mech with unprecedented fury; melting the front armour, frying all it's circuitry and cooking the pilot within to a crisp. The mech stood blackened and withered, and quickly crumpled to the ground as it's charred and brittle legs snapped under it's own weight. Demos dumped the now depleted air-burst weapon on the floor, and flashed a devilish grin at Reverb. "Three down."

I'm happy with how the story is progressing so far. It's made me appreciate dirty old paper in ways I never thought I could! Seriously though, no-one's posted in like a week! I would be very disappointed if this great story went down the drain so early.

[img]http://img259.imageshack.us/img259/1765/burnhamkh8.jpg[/img]   [SIZE="2"][i]December 25th, 2007[/i] [b]Merry Christmas, right? Well it could be worse. At least I've got my health... We decided to get ourselves a nice big X-mas hamper from Burnham--That's the Burnham Military Base about 30 kilometers out of town, I included a map above. There wasn't alot of military intervention during the early stages of the invasion, so I figure there must be a cache of Army munitions out there; armour, vehicles and especially weapons. We rely on our firearms, and securing as many as possible boosts our morale and our security. Myself, Jay, Tama and Adam are heading there at dawn; we're driving there in a Police riot van so we've got plenty of cargo space and another three drivers in case we find some useful vehicles. In other events, this week we found and took in another batch of survivors; Nathan and Kelly, they're a young couple, both uni students (well, ex-students now I guess); Dave Mills, he's a salesman at a local Ford dealership; and Eve, she's a 25-year old training coach at some corporate office. She's really positive & enthusiastic, which is a godsend considering the state of the world. Also, she is [i]stacked[/i].. (C'mon, I gotta think about repopulation! It'd be naive not to!) In all seriousness though, repopulation has been mentioned a couple of times, but to be quite honest it's the last thing we need right now. No, I have not been replaced with a Zombie body-double: As a male sex is always on my mind, but we do not need to be making babies anytime soon. Food is gonna become really hard to come by once our supplies start diminishing, so we're gonna need to ration it out until we get livestock and a vegetable garden organised. Throwing a newborn child in the mix would make everything far more difficult. Anyway, I better wrap this up. Once again we've got an early start to the day. Hopefully this trip will be profitable! Also, Zombie related tip of the day? Crossbows are awesome. That is all. [/b][/SIZE]  

[IMG]http://img367.imageshack.us/img367/596/suitrp7.jpg[/IMG]   [SIZE="2"][i]December 19th, 2007[/i] [b] So this has been taking up most of our time lately; designing better ways to fight these things and ensure our own survival.Very satisfying. Working on plans and projects like this keeps us sane and stops us from dwelling on the catastrophic tragedy that has befallen us... I've included a sketch I've done of how I think the final product should look. The armour is our solution to the ever growing threat of being cornered by one of those things with no protection. Hence we decided to modify the riot gear and fashion ourselves something to wear. Now it's just a matter of finding the components we don't have yet; Camouflage and butcher's mail. The rest of it we already have thanks to the NZPD and their surprisingly well-stocked armoury, heh. I'm proud of our survival effort thus far; obviously we're incredibly lucky to have made it this far when so many others have perished. But we're keeping our cool and sticking to our plan, which is how we're gonna carry on until we get through this. Good news on the people front as well. We've come across several uninfected people over the past week, all of whom we've brought back to our Police HQ stronghold. In the center of town we met Tama, a big old Maori guy who used to work as a bouncer. He was beating off Zombies with a lead pipe when we first saw him. Then there's Adam, he's a thirty-something civil engineer who knows everything there is to know about fabrication and on-the-fly construction. He's proven himself invaluable with our barricading and automotive work. We also raided a shopping mall and found three other survivors holed up in a women's clothing store; Christine, she's a 20-year old student at polytech studying tourism and hospitality (couldn't help but notice there's none of either left, heh). Leah, a young blonde girl who was training to be a nurse, and a tutor from the same school both girls were attending, Claire. Claire's in her late twenties and smoking hot. Great morale booster. Supplies are easy to find. It's sad to think about why--The majority of the population died so quickly that dozens of supermarkets and food warehouses haven't even been visited by the looters that plagued the streets only a few weeks ago. The main supply we rely on is diesel fuel to keep our generators running. Thankfully we've got a hefty supply--we hijacked a semi cab and have been using it to bring tanker trailers back to the compound. We've got a couple of full tanks parked next to the generator house right now--They'll last us another few weeks still. Having power is a luxury that we don't want to part with anytime soon. Amazingly, the internet remains up. There's not alot of activity left, just a handful of survivors trying desperately to contact anyone they can. All the major websites have become eerie time-lines of our descent to the brink of extinction. YouTube consists of only two kinds of video; Zombie attacks and suicide notes. Social profiling sites like Myspace have become the epitaphs of an entire generation, listing their goodbyes and last words. It's creepy, and I avoid it as much as possible, but obviously linking up with other survivors is paramount. It's past 10pm but it's still light outside. Ah, even now I love the summertime. I write this entry on the roof of the tower, sitting in an armchair with the orange glow of the sunset at my back. This has become my favourite place to relax in HQ, as it is far away from the maddening, baritone wail of the undead. Time to get me some rest, gotta save my energy for further deliberation on this Zombieproof Riot suit tomorrow. Will write again soon. [/b][/SIZE] 

  [i]Monday, December 3rd, 2007[/i] [b] It's nice to finally have a chance to sit back and write another entry, especially considering how I didn't expect us to live past the weekend. Even though I said we wouldn't, we decided to brave the city center on Saturday, and headed to the Police Headquarters in town. Figured the blood and gore were a necessary evil to ensure our survival. "The ends justify the means" has become our unspoken motto on any moral issues we face now. Anyways, we were just planning on raiding the station to get supplies, and if we were lucky, any weapons or stuff that hadn't already been lifted. So we get there to find it was abandoned by all human life, but crawling with Zombies. Thing is, there's only three street entrances to the station--two fully locked and gated vehicle entrances, and a pedestrian entrance up a narrow flight of stairs to the lobby area, which could be easily sealed. We figured this was too good a stronghold opportunity to pass up. Once we build a sufficient barricade over the pedestrian entrance and secured the vehicle gates, it took us a full day just to clear it of the undead. But the pay-off is that we now have a massive stronghold in the center of the city. The map doesn't really show, but it's a big complex, taking up half a block. The entire facility is made up of a large open-air car park, extensive garage/workshop and storage buildings, an on-site power source (diesel generators), and of course the main tower. The HQ building is fifteen stories tall, including two basement levels which house undercover parking and detention cells. Map follows;[/b]  [CENTER][img]http://img373.imageshack.us/img373/6939/mapoy7.jpg[/img][/CENTER]   [SIZE="2"][b] During our exploration of the abandoned station we came across the Armed Offenders Squad (basically SWAT) armoury, which contained some full-body riot gear and a plethora of Police heavy munitions--breeching charges, MP5SD6's, Glock 19's and SIG-Sauers, Police issue Remington bolt-actions and Shotguns, Colt M4A1s... Christ, I'm such a gun nut. Especially now. And even though I was practically wetting myself when we found the AOS room, the evidence & contraband was even better. My god, it's like a fucking pirate's treasure cove! Whole rooms filled with illegal weapons like switchblades, tazers, banned firearms, explosives... then there were the drugs. Holy shit, the drugs. Shelves crammed with bags of methanphetamine, pounds and pounds of weed, prescription medications.. The list goes on. I know these will come in handy soon, seeing as Me and Jay have been chain smoking doobies for about a month now. Only way I can stay calm nowadays. Still, can you blame us? Over the past few months, we've seen our society crumble to nothing, our governments have failed us and humanity has suffered a crushing blow, and for all we know, could be looking at total extinction. We've seen friends and family turn from the people we love into brain-dead monsters who constantly hunger for the flesh of the living. We've had to kill our co-workers, our neighbors, women, children... The disease has no mercy, so neither can we. It's too depressing to think about, so we've been keeping ourselves busy with plans for new equipment. Now that we have a fully equipped workshop in the Police compound, we started implementing some upgrades and shit to the Legacy. We've already got all the parts we need, and I sketched up the basic design in my journal.. This journal, that is. We should have it done by next Monday. Well, I better get some rest. It's nearly three in the morning, and we've got an industrious day ahead of us. Sketch is over the page. ---> [/b][/SIZE]   [CENTER][img]http://img373.imageshack.us/img373/8560/battlewagonbu2.jpg[/img][/CENTER]

  [SIZE="2"][i]November 30th, 2007[/i] [b] A lot has changed in six weeks. It was only mid-september when I wrote my last entry, but my god, it feels like another life time ago. About a month ago, at the very end of September, the government starting handing out these pills, "Phalanx" they called 'em, to counter the "African Rabies". Of course, there was no such thing as African Rabies, and the pills were placebos--that's right, fucking [i]placebos[/i]--distributed to quell mass hysteria. Thing is, people didn't stop getting infected. About a week and a half later the public found out about these sugar pills, and they went batshit fucking insane. So about three weeks ago, my fair city's society crumbled. Lootings, murder, rape.. Christ, without infrastructure we're as bad as the fucking zombies. I killed my first a few days after that... It wasn't easy. I recognised the guy, he used to work at the same mall as I did. I drank alot that night. Somehow, though, it gets easier every time.. Which is more sickening than the killing itself.. We've been looting too, especially over the past few days. It's a lot less crowded now. Our numbers are thinning out fast and it shows; there's more of those zombies on the streets than living people now. My family has left the city, they've headed down south to stay with our relatives down there. They have a place in the mountains, it's sheltered and safe for now. I stayed in the city with my friend Jay, who's been invaluable to our survival. He's a mechanic, and knows a hell of a lot more than I do about automotive engineering and fabrication than I ever will. Three days ago, we broke into a gun store in the city, managed to grab a car load of weapons and ammo. We made one other trip into the city center, to raid the local military surplus store. Managed to score some bullet proof vests and army survival gear. Next step is to try and break into Police HQ downtown and get some riot gear. 'Cept I don't think we'll be going into the central city again anytime soon... It's too gruesome. So many bodies. So much blood. I have to go now, but I'll try and keep this log updated. It may just be my last will and testament, hah. [/b][/SIZE]  

  [SIZE="2"][b][i]September 18th, 2007[/i][/b] [b]I haven't slept in two days. A couple of nights ago I woke up and there was a man clawing at my sliding door. I called the cops and they got here quickly and took him away, but now it's like I don't feel safe in my own house anymore. There's been more of these crazy outbreaks around the South Island, and I for one am starting to freak out. Reports of this mass epidemic are all over the internet and there are hundreds of videoed sightings of these crazed, infected people flooding YouTube. The government says New Zealand is at "low risk" of any kind of pandemic scenario; and that the incident is "being contained", but I've seen what's happening in the US. It's spreading, and it seems like they're having trouble keeping it under control. What scares me is our government hasn't grounded any flights or closed ports--Who knows how many carriers could have unknowingly brought the disease with them? Gah. I'm probably just being paranoid, but it's a pretty fucking scary situation! Anyway, work's been hell. We've been pulling massive overtime to deal with overdue payments--tax evasion has risen 500% in the last month alone (low risk my ass). I've got work from 7am 'til 7pm tomorrow--[i]again[/i]. Man, I feel like a fucking zombie. Thank god for coffee and energy drinks, right? On a positive note, I am looking forward to playing Halo 3 soon. That shit comes out in a weeks time! Come hell or high water, there's no way I'm missing out on that game. Can't wait to vegetate in front of my widescreen for days on end, haha. Still, it's hard to distract myself from what's happening right now. It's unnerving, and I now keep shitslugger (my baseball bat) within an arms reach at all times. Oh well, gotta hope for the best, right? [/b][/SIZE]  

[b][URL="http://youtube.com/watch?v=Ll8Qm8yDj-8"]Indian "Thriller"[/URL][/b] I don't think this requires any further explanation

[B]Name:[/B] Connor Clarkson [B]Age:[/B] 19 [B]Gender:[/B] Male [B]Physical Description:[/B] 5'10", bulky frame, wide shoulders. Looks slow but is very agile when the situation calls for it. [B]Location:[/B] Christchurch, New Zealand [B]Living Style:[/B] Middle-class suburb, growing in wealth. Lots of nice old houses being pulled down to make way for nice new houses. Lives in the family home at the end of a cul-de-sac, with a large park bordering the property, and a primary (elementary) school connecting to the park. Currently between jobs; recently left a retail position down at a local mall for a job in the government's tax department, and doesn't commence employment for another two weeks. Resides with Mother and two younger siblings. [B]Notable Possessions:[/B] [I]Max Brooks' "The Zombie Survival Guide" -[/I] A fictional survival book detailing exactly how to deal with an outbreak of the living dead. [URL="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Zombie_Survival_Guide"][link][/URL] [I]'90 Subaru Legacy Wagon -[/I] Great car, hauls ass. Lots of cargo space. [I]Two (count 'em) baseball bats -[/I] A wooden one [i]and[/i]a metal one, I might add. [I].22 revolver -[/I] No stopping power to speak off, but ammo is plentiful and easy to carry. [I]Husqvarna 3120XP -[/I] A large gas-powered logging chainsaw. [I]M69 Gas mask -[/I] Canadian-made gas mask. Works well, has a spare filter. [I]M1 Steel Helmet -[/I] Old US army helmet. You never know, could come in handy. [B]Special Skills:[/B] Basic Ninjitsu training (seriously) Advanced knowledge of firearms Advanced knowledge of city infrastructure Skilled in designing/constructing barricades/fortifications Has finished every [i]Resident Evil[/i] (zomg!!1) Can single-handedly staff an entire kitchen at McDonalds [B]Diary Entry:[/B] [IMG]http://img184.imageshack.us/img184/8983/071307intropo1.jpg[/IMG]

[B]--- Commander's residence, Residential Sector Maverick Hunter Headquarters 0131 hours ---[/B] X stood at the door of the train impatiently, waiting for it to come to a complete stop before he exited. This train was part of the expansive network of elevated and underground lines that crisscrossed MHHQ, providing rapid transit across and within the sprawling complex. This particular region was the Residential Sector, also known as the "Town Square"; the urban area where permanently posted human and non-combat robotic staff lived. There were apartment buildings, smaller individual homes, and a lot of greenery in the form of parks and trees. Businesses were dotted along in between houses and flats--Cafes, boutiques and the like. A bustling and thriving community within headquarters. The blue reploid departed the train and ran, looking due west. There, from beyond a few blocks of modern family homes loomed the silhouette of the impressive mansion which was the Commander's Residence. It was Signas' residence before his untimely disappearance, and was now home to Duke. As X approached the house he noticed armed guards patrolling the wall. They weren't Hunters, rather they were the Emerald Militia; Dukes own personal goon squad. If X wanted an audience with Duke at this hour, he'd have to sneak past security. Pressing himself flat against the wall of a building only a few metres from the high outer wall of the Commander's Residence, X quickly surveyed his surroundings. Two guards were posted at the main gate, while another two patrolled the perimeter. From here the Hunter couldn't tell whether there were more on the inside of the complex, so he'd have to hope for the best. His cloaking device buzzed and crackled momentarily before activating. Once it was fully operational, he legged it toward the wall, jumping onto it and kicking himself up and over. He landed softly and kept running. Three armed guards patrolled the garden, and it seemed another two were posted permanently on the door. Invisible or not, X knew he couldn't very well bust through the front door. A balcony on the second floor of the house looked like the best vantage point. The blue hunter sprinted for the wall of the house, jumping a few feet before he reached it. He lunged skyward, grabbing onto the railing of the balcony with one hand. He pulled himself over and planted his feet gracefully on the floor. He crouched and approached the door, which as expected, was firmly locked. Obviously, a conventionally locked door was no problem for a Maverick Hunter. A small metal device extended from his index finger, and he picked the lock in an instant. He entered the door, and closed it quietly behind him. Although he had innocent reasons for entering, it dawned on X now that he had unlawfully entered the home of the Commander. He paused for a second, then shook it off and continued. He knew the layout of the building already--He'd been here many times when Signas had been in Command. X deactivated his cloak and snuck down the dark hallway, entering through a door that was slightly ajar. This had been Signas' study, and it seemed that Duke hadn't changed the decor at all. Come to think of it, X thought to himself, nothing had changed; Wooden panel flooring, massive oak bookcases lined with all manner of books, some new, some dating to pre-cataclysm times--These had all belonged to Signas. And in the back center of the study was a large, authoritative looking desk, with a computer and reading material scattered across it. A lamp on the desk had been left on. X approached it to turn it off, but not before something on the desk caught his eye. Maps and plans of HQ, covered in scrawled notes and arrows--It looked like a battle map. "Can I help you?" X cringed and looked up. Duke, still in uniform and holding a cup of coffee stood in the doorway, and he looked pissed off. X quickly stood at attention and saluted Duke before promptly addressing him, albeit shakily. "C-Commander Duke, I have urgent news that--" the Hunter stuttered. "Silence!" Duke yelled, cutting off X mid-sentence. "What do you think you're doing, X? Breaking into the Commander's Residence in the middle of the night? This is grounds for treason, you know." Duke placed his cup of coffee on a table by the door, and pressed his left ear, activating his communicator. "Security, on my mark." he spoke. Within seconds, the shuffle of troops could be heard downstairs. "Wait, Commander, it's important," said X, hurriedly. "While tracking Demos we picked up another signature. It's Reverb, Sir." Duke paused momentarily, then slowly raised his hand to his left ear. "Security, stand down." The shuffling from downstairs stopped. "Reverb? He's still operational?" asked Duke. "Yes Sir. He's with Demos, and it appears that neither of them are infected with the Maverick virus." said X. "Sir, we should call off our troops. There seems to have been some kind of mistake." The Commander shook his head. "No, it's obviously some kind of trick. Take them both out. That's an order, X." Duke said sternly. The blue reploid frowned and looked Duke straight in the eye. "With all due respect, Sir, if they're not infected, then they're no threat. Furthermore, even if they were infected, you [i]know[/i] we have extensive rehabilitation and recovery programs that have a 96.3 percent success rate. Even without considering the fact that these are our comrades, I think you're being far too aggressive, Sir." said the hunter, a tone of discontent and anger creeping into his voice. Duke scoffed at X. "I don't [i]care[/i] what you think, Reploid. And I don't care whether or not Demos and Reverb were your--[i]our[/i] comrades. They're Mavericks, and they're a threat. And any threat must be eliminated." "Dammit Commander, they're innocent reploids!" X yelled as he removed his helmet. "And I will [i]not[/i] kill them!" Duke glared at X with a snarl on his face. "You miserable machine. You will do as I instruct you!" "No!" shouted X defiantly. "Your orders go against every doctrine and protocol that the Maverick Hunters stand for!" he threw his helmet down on the ground, cracking the wooden floor. "I am the High Commander of the Maverick Hunters! I have the authority to overrule any protocol to ensure the security of this complex!" screamed Duke in reply. The two were now only a few feet away from each other. The Security team downstairs could hear the commotion and started heading up the stairs to investigate. "High Commander my ass." X said through gritted teeth. "This whole house is filled with Signas' belongings. Even the Hunter insignia on your jacket bears Signas' identification number. Hunters don't give that up if they leave the corps. They take it with them." he raised his right arm, and it began to glow, forming his Mega buster. "It all makes sense now." A crooked smile spread across Duke's face. "Sounds like you've got it all figured out X." X aimed his Mega buster at Duke. His face was grim as he glared at the false Commander. "Duke, I'm placing you under arrest for subverting the Maverick Hunters, falsifying records and information and impersonating a Commander; also for the attempted murder of Reverb, and the possible murder of Commander Signas. Surrender yourself now, or I will remove you forcefully." Eight of the Emerald Militia stormed into the room, forming a semi circle behind Duke and taking aim at X, who was quick to explain himself. "This man is a fraud. He is not Commander of the Maverick Hunters, he's an impostor who plans to corrupt the corps for his own gain." said X, calm and controlled. But none of the Militia moved an inch. Duke grinned at X's dilemma. "Pitiful robot. They are loyal to me, not the Maverick Hunters. We have our own goals." "You leave me no choice, Duke. You will pay for your treachery!" With that, X lunged at Duke, firing a quick bolt of plasma from his buster. Duke rolled out of the way, and the shot grazed the upper arm of one of the green-clad soldiers, causing him to stumble back. X seized this moment, spinning his right leg around and kicking him in the side of the head, breaking his jaw, cheekbone and nose. He was sent sprawling to the floor, blood pouring from his mouth and nose. The Emerald Militia opened fire on the reploid, and a storm of solid ammunition erupted around him. X narrowly dodged a stream of bullets from the militant on his left, grabbing the barrel of his gun and snapping the entire front end of the weapon away from the firing mechanism. He then smacked the long steel barrel into the soldier's head, knocking him out cold. As his opponent fell, the reploid was blindsided by another soldier, who tackled and brought him down hard. X grappled with the soldier, who was amazingly strong. Normally, a reploid would have no problems subduing a human adversary. The Emerald Militia, however, were not normal humans. They had been subjected to all manner of genetic enhancements, and while they contained no cybernetic implants, they possessed inhuman speed, power and dexterity, which put them on par with the physical strength of a reploid. The soldier on top of X freed one hand from the struggle, and drew the progressive knife from it's sheath on his chest. The blade buzzed to life, glowing with an incandescent blue aura. He drove the knife downwards, at the reploid's chest. X grabbed his wrist and struggled, eventually twisting the blade around and slicing at the soldier's wrist. Blood spewed from the wound, and X used this opportunity to hurl the soldier over his head, which in turn knocked another soldier over. Before he had a chance to stand up, they were on him once more. One of them grabbed his right arm, and another his left. As he fought against the assailants, the progressive knife of another soldier was thrust into his lower back. X gritted his teeth as coolant and other fluids dribbled out of the gash. Another soldier approached him from the front, punching him so hard in the face that the titanium endoskeleton in his cheek buckled, and the layer of organic flesh to the right of his mouth was ripped, exposing a bloody streak of metal. Although the Emerald Militia wore a helmet that obscured their eyes, you could still see their mouths. And this one was smiling manically as he wiped the blood from his knuckles. X launched his counterattack in a split second. He formed both hands into busters at once, and fired simultaneous shots of burning blue energy, which exploded at point blank range into the faces of the soldiers on his arms. At the same time, he performed a backflipping kick, which caught his adversary at the front in the chin, knocking him out and to the floor. As he flipped over, his eyes met the soldier at the back of him, who had lodged the blade in his back. X bent his knee and slammed it into the back of the militant's head, then proceeded to kick down onto his back upon landing. This broke his neck and spine, killing him instantly. Another hail of bullets rained down upon the Hunter. He attempted to dodge them again, but instead was caught by seven molten slugs that pierced his armor and ruptured one of his primary drive generators. X grasped his chest in agony--He had never experienced pain such as this before. As the slumped reploid tried to regain his composure, the soldier whose wrist he had slit moments before kicked out his legs from under him. Duke approached the fallen Hunter, and pointed his rapier at his throat. "Is this how it ends, X? On your knees in a pool of your own fluids?" he laughed. X snapped out of his dazed state and launched a ball of blue plasma at Duke. Duke tried to roll out of the way, but the shot hit him in the stomach, sending him flying across the room and into one of the ceiling-high bookcases encircling the room. It's shelves cracked and splintered as Duke fell to the ground, covered by shards of oak and half of the books on the wall. "Lord Duke!" yelled one of the soldiers. The two soldiers ran to Duke's side, and hauled their leader from the rubble. He was unconscious, but alive. As their attention was drawn away, X stood shakily and limped to window behind the desk. He jumped out, backwards, turning in midair to land uncomfortably on one knee. The shattering glass quickly returned the attention of the guards to the Hunter, who ran to the windows, unloading their weapons at the slowly fleeing reploid below them. Emerald Militia from all around the Commander's Residence encroached on X's position, all firing wildly at the blue reploid. X caught several more bullets before reaching an open location on the lawn. He collapsed to his hands and knees, then pressed a combination of buttons on his gauntlet. The hunter glowed with a sapphire aura momentarily, then transformed to a bolt of blue energy as he activated his teleporting system and shot into the sky. [b]--- Command Room Upsilon Maverick Hunter Headquarters 0159 hours ---[/b] A large number of the Emerald Militia were stationed in the relatively unused Upsilon Command Room, an auxiliary command centre on the far side of the ballistics firing range on the outer rim of HQ. Duke had placed them there secretly, to keep tabs on Hunter activity and to communicate with his superiors. In charge of this operation, and in reality, second in command to Duke was a helmetless member of the Militia; one Lieutenant-Colonel Valcourt. His blonde spiky hair was swept back, and his chiseled jaw was covered in stubble. His loyalty to Duke, and their parent organization was unquestioning and unwavering. Everyone in the room faced him as he stood in front of a large screen which displayed a number of maps and schematics. He began his briefing. "Alright everyone, approximately 15 minutes ago Lord Duke was injured by this Hunter, Mega Man X." a picture of the blue reploid appeared on the screen accordingly. "He killed six of our own as well. Thankfully, Lord Duke is okay, but X got away. Scans are showing that he used a long range teleport, however it appears he has not left headquarters. He is wounded and in a deteriorating condition, so all medical and repair facilities are under intense surveillance." The screen changed again, this time displaying profile shots of Demos and Reverb, although the pictures were old ones from their Hunter records. "These Hunters, Demos and Reverb, have been detected in the Section C munitions testing area. Scans indicate that they have set the EEA--that's Environment Emulation Area, people--to parameters that render the area impossible to enter by any human. From what we can tell, it's an arid, 80 degree hell-on-earth down there, so we're dispatching a battalion of sixteen exosuits to eradicate them." "Can't we isolate the area and cut their power, Colonel?" asked a militant. "Unfortunately not. If we cut the power, the area goes into lockdown. Then they'll know we're coming, and by the time we get in they'll be gone. Don't worry, our exosuits are more than capable of taking out a couple of reploids. I don't care how 'elite' they claim to be." Although arrogant, the Lieutenant-Colonel's claims were somewhat true--These exosuits stood at an intimidating ten feet tall, completely enclosing the soldier within a heavily plated suit of armour. They were armed with a multitude of high-power weapons, including dual Vulcan cannons on each arm, high pressure flamethrowers, ionized saw blades and more. They were bulky and boasted massive durability, yet still maintained an impressive level of speed and maneuverability. Equipped with multiple thrust-vectoring engines, even the sharpest turns and quickest jumps could be performed with relative ease. The screen behind Valcourt changed once more, now showing all three reploids; X, Demos and Reverb. "These three Maverick Hunters are our top priority. Although they do not truly know our agenda, they know that we are their enemy. These Hunters are far too influential, and could easy spread dissent throughout the ranks, which is something we cannot afford to happen. We're on full alert, people. These three need to be destroyed, [i]immediately[/i]." [b]--- Environment Emulation Area, C Sector Maverick Hunter Headquarters 0203 hours ---[/b] "Do you hear that?" whispered Reverb, who grabbed Demos by the forearm to stop him. Demos paused and listened. They could hear a faint rumbling, like a marching battallion. A very loud battalion. Reverb frowned and spoke. "It's like footsteps... Not many of 'em, but they sound loud. This could be trouble." Demos smirked and his buster began to glow. "Here's hoping."

The sun never sets here. Not in the endless desert--Crisscrossed by the occasional highway, green signs above the road pointing to far off cities scrawled in a strange and foreign script. Dotted across the landscape are pockets of ruins; some little more than piles of rubble and debris, others are clusters of tenements and shops with the scars of war showing clearly. So many wars had been fought here, it's hard to believe that it was once populated. OB Central Command started a "Cleanse and Purge" mission here long ago, and it was finally drawing to a close. Operation "Rage of the Inferno" saw countless battalions of elite OBCTU soldiers deployed to the region to stop an encroaching Terrorist threat, which had become a breeding ground for the worst kind of god-awful extremists this side of 4chan. This wasteland has gone by many names; but in the native tongue they called it [i][URL=http://www.otakuboards.com/otakupedia/?p=35]"AE Boards"[/URL].[/i] I had been stationed there for more than a decade--Some call me the best. Sergeant Major Flash Ramirez--also known as "Sour Candy". Why did they call me Sour Candy? Because Sour Candy is [i]f***ing awesome[/i]. "SERGEANT MAJOR CANDY! DUST-OFF IN 30 SECONDS!" screamed the pilot of the MH-60 Blackhawk helicopter, over the deafening roar of the spooling rotors. I removed the gnarled cigar from my mouth and spat onto the desert sand. "[i]Sour[/i] Candy, Corporal. Don't you forget it." I hissed through gritted teeth, a prominent vein appearing on my forehead. The Pilot's left eye twitched as he stuttered a fearful response. "Y-y-yes Sir!" I slung my weapon over my left shoulder and grabbed my backpack. This was the first time in over ten years I'd been called away from the desert. This didn't bode well for anyone. [b][i]Fifteen hours later...[/i][/b] The Blackhawk touched down at OBCTU HQ, and upon departing the helicopter I was immediately approached by a man I recognized as the enigmatic and colorful Grape Ape, leader of the CTU. "Sergeant Major Flash Ramirez." said Grape Ape, extending his right hand. "It's an honor to finally meet you; I hear you've been in the desert for more than a decade." "Yes Sir," I said gruffly. "Out there killing me some s*** eighteen hours a day. There's only two hours of darkness a night. Know what that does to your sleep patterns? That s*** will f*** you up. Drive a motherf***er [i]crazy[/i]. Some say I'm crazy... But I don't think so. If I was crazy, I'd kill everyone. Take them out to the jungle, bleed 'em real slow, leave 'em there.." Grape Ape and his entourage were now standing a few meters away from me, eyes transfixed and walking backward slowly. "Yeah, uh, that's great, [i]Sour Candy[/i]." Grape Ape said cautiously. "Let's... go inside." I grinned like a madman and followed the Commander inside HQ. I had come here to do two things--Chew bubblegum and kick ass. And I was all out of bubblegum.

[b]--- Xanadu Club Clockwork South, Novus Concordia 0046 hours ---[/b] Zero stood and turned his head to face Havoc and Proteus. He grasped his helmet firmly and slid it off his head. The Hunter's long blonde hair was pulled back into a tidy ponytail that reached halfway down his back. He held the red and white helm under his arm and spoke. "I do apologize for coming to you unannounced Omar, but we have little time to waste. We need disguises for all three of us, quickly." Zero paused momentarily. "Warlock and Iota, too." Omar let out a toothy grin and adjusted his purple tinted glasses. "Well then... Let's get started." [b]--- Sub Level 10, Unnamed Sector Maverick Hunter Headquarters 0050 hours ---[/b] "You were built by [i]Flash[/i]!?" Demos yelled at Reverb, taken back by the very mention of his former Commander's name. Reverb nodded. "Yes, I was. Although I had no knowledge of this until Cloak here told me," The green and grey reploid looked over at the shrouded figure, who was sitting in a meditative position on the other side of the room, eyes closed. "He told me that Flash built me a few years ago, and he completed me merely weeks before... you know." Demos was confused as hell, and now cast his suspicious gaze at Cloak. What other secrets did this stranger know? The Elite squadron Commander wasn't going to sit idly by and let them remain unknown. He stomped over to Cloak, standing over him in an intimidating manner. "Alright, Cloaky. What's your story? How do you know so much about Reverb?" Cloak remained stationary, and opened his eyes as he answered Demos. "Demos, if I told you now it could jeprodise everything. You will know, in time--" He was cut off by the massive Hunter, who grabbed him by the neck and lifted him up with one hand. Demos snarled at Cloak, their faces inches away from each other. "Wrong answer. Tell me everything, [i]right now[/i]." the dark reploid said through gritted teeth. He spread out his palm, and with a crackling white light, his saber materialized. No sooner than his sword was formed, a massive pulse of blue plasma fire knocked Demos to the ground. As he fell, he twisted in mid-air to land crouched and ready to strike at his assailant. Reverb's buster arm was outstretched, a blueish glow still radiating from the barrel of the weapon. It hissed and whined as steam escaped and it's cooling turbine spooled down to a standstill. His expression stern, Reverb slowly lowered his buster. Demos frowned and spoke harshly. "Attacking a superior officer is considered treason, Reverb." "I'm pretty sure succumbing to the Maverick virus constitutes as a resignation from the Hunters, Demos, so don't even start." Reverb retorted, not a quiver in his voice. Demos was surprised by this. Gone was the innocent, young Reverb that had joined the Maverick Hunters. Replaced with a battle hardened individual who bore little resemblance to the Reploid Demos had initiated into the Elite squadron. Demos rose to his feet and nodded to Reverb. "I'm sorry, Demos, but we have to trust Cloak. I know that he has to do what he's doing for a reason. Not to mention he rebuilt me after Duke ripped me to shreds." Cloak interupted the two with haste in his voice. "You must go. They're looking for you, Demos; and they have your scent, so to speak." "My.. scent?" said Demos, slightly confused. The shrouded Reploid picked up his staff and turned to face Reverb and Demos. "Flee this place. Head upwards. And if you can..." Cloak clenched his fists tightly around his staff. "Kill Duke and as many of his Emerald Militia as you can." Reverb nodded, and Demos reluctantly agreed. The two reploids ran from Cloak's room, into the black corridors of sub-level 10. [b]--- Command Room Omicron Maverick Hunter Headquarters 0054 hours ---[/b] X stood alone on the commander's platform in Command room Omicron. Duke had retired for the night, after all--He was only human, and humans need sleep. Besides, Demos' trail had gone cold hours ago. Until now. "Commander X, long range scanners are indicating a unique power signature--From below Headquarters!" yelled a hunter from the radar station. X turned his head to face him. "Is it him?!" X asked hastily. "No sir... There's [i]two[/i] signatures!" The blue reploid raised an eyebrow in confusion. "[i]Two[/i] power signatures? Are you suggesting Demos had an ally [i]within[/i] Headquarters all along?" "It would appear that way, Sir," replied a Lieutenant manning the database console. "Look at these readings." X's eyes widened in bewilderment as he looked at the second signature, for he had seen it many times before. "Reverb?!" he exclaimed. [b]--- Xanadu Club Clockwork South, Novus Concordia 0143 hours ---[/b] Omar yawned and rubbed his eyes beneath his purple tinted glasses. He glanced at his wristwatch and sighed. Even though he managed a bustling night-club, he liked to hit the hay before the stroke of midnight "Alright, how do we look?" Zero, Proteus and Havoc stepped forward, all dressed in generic civilian attire--Shirts, ties and pants. They had removed all of the detachable pieces of their armour; Zero had taken his helmet off, gauntlets and grieves were detached. Even without his armour, Havoc still stood very tall and daunting. He wore a long jacket to try and play down his size, but it did little to hide his broad frame. Proteus donned a pair of square-framed glasses and a waistcoat. The three reploids looked unmistakably human. Omar smiled and clapped his hands with delight. "Fantastic, fantastic! You look more human than I do," he laughed. "Here, take these as well." He handed a small suitcase to Zero. The hunter opened it to reveal another two outfits--One, a man's suit; black with a faint pinstripe, white shirt and red tie. No doubt this was intended for Warlock. The other, woman's clothing; A professional looking blazer and shirt, with a short black skirt to match. "For the others, Iota and Warlock. There are shoes, and glasses to match in there as well." Zero nodded and closed the suitcase. He extended a hand to Omar. "Thank you, Omar. I won't forget this." said Zero, smiling. The reploids each took turns shaking Omar's hand and exchanging words of gratitude. They would have to leave now--It would take roughly four to five hours to reach Headquarters from here, and that would leave them arriving right at 7am, when most of the civilian staff arrived. The three disguised reploids left Omar's private lounge, and headed outside towards the [i]Impact[/i].

@ Wondershot; I'm pretty sure Neil intended to have a post or small arc at the fight club, but I haven't seen him online in ages so I'm going to have to step in and take control of our characters. I'll make a post outlining where we are, maybe having a brawl or something, and then you can begin your assault on the crime scene. Sound good?

[quote name='White][COLOR=DimGray][FONT=Tahoma] Dead gets props for the /b/ image. [/FONT'][/COLOR][/quote] Way to break rules one and two, [i]Al Jazeera[/i]. I can't say I like your desktop much either; In fact, it's a bit of a shambles. White backgground with black text? Is this the nineties? What's next, an animated .gif of flames, or some kind of spinning guitar? Treble's desktop, for example, is much better and gets across a clear message of supremacy. For my desktop, I prefer something that implies strength, victory and [b]awesome[/b]. [IMG]http://img517.imageshack.us/img517/951/600pxctulogo1if2.jpg[/IMG]

[b]1) What is your element of power?[/b] Tex-Mex [b]2) Who taught you how to ride a bike?[/b] An Elite Paramilitary force in the heart of the Guatemalan rainforest [b]When do[/b] SPARTA

Ji Qiang finished his whiskey in a single gulp and slammed the glass hard on the counter. He licked his front teeth and turned to Rave. "Were there any others with Fu Shi? His crew, any clientel?" The Sergeant shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno, probably..." he said, his voice uncertain. He glanced down at his the dried blood spattered on his shirt and forearms. "...I was a little preoccupied." Detective Chang chuckled and nodded. Usually he couldn't be bothered wasting his time chasing junkies at quarter to midnight; especially when he had work in the morning. But DT made things different. He wanted to show these greaseball fuckers what happens when you toy with fire. He turned to Scruggs, grinning. "I feel some good old fashioned Police work coming on. You comin' with?" Ji Qiang said, gesturing to the door. Neil laughed under his breath with a tone that said 'are you kidding?'. The two cops stood up and headed for the door. Halfway across the room, Chang put his left arm out and stopped the Rave in his tracks. The Sergeant's eyebrow raised as he glanced at Chang, who motioned to the bathroom with his head. "Maybe you should uh... wash up." --- Ji Qiang, the Machine-gun lit up one of the imported Tiparillos he'd received earlier in the night. He took a long drag and stepped out of the lobby onto the street. People lined the sidewalks; clubbers, drunks, mobsters, party-goers. In the dead of the night the city was at its liveliest. A pair of cute girls in raver gear passed Chang, shooting him suggestive smiles. He licked his lips and grinned back at them. Ah, to be young again. Neil walked up beside the Detective, scanning the streets in front of him. He'd gotten most of the blood from his hands and shirt; hell, he almost looked half-way respectable. Chang pulled out a box of cigarettes and offered one to the Sergeant. Scruggs obliged, and placed the cigarette between his lips as he scorched the end with a butane-fueled lighter. "You, giving away cigarettes? What's the catch, Chang?" "No catch, Scruggs. I'm feelin' generous. Let's go." His squad car was parked in a private building fifty meters down the street. The two cops walked side-by-side down the crowded pavement, towering over most of the people they walked past. Most of the police force were received by the general public with name and bottle throwing, but anyone stupid enough to hurl abuse at Ji Qiang or Rave would have to be on a suicide mission. Even smart-ass, wannabe gangsters who shouted 'fuck the police' in the face of beat cops got out of the way when they saw Chang or Scruggs coming. "Did they fix your Mustang yet?" asked the Sergeant. He hadn't seen Chang's car since a few weeks ago when he flipped it during a high-speed chase. The Detective shook his head. "Not yet... But I've got something even better." Flicking his cigarette butt into the gutter, Detective Chang turned down an alleyway with the Sergeant following close behind. On their right was an entrance to the parking building. They entered, climbing the staircase to the first floor. The first level was empty save for Chang's personal squad car--A 1978 Cadillac El Dorado Conquistador. Neil's jaw almost hit the floor when he saw it. "Jesus Christ, Eric! That thing must be a hundred years old!" he yelled, walking up to the ancient automobile. It was pristine--glossy new paint job, immaculate body and a fully refitted modern interior. "When I heard you were getting a '78 Cadillac I assumed you'd be getting a twenty year old car... not a hundred year old car! Does it even run?" "A hundred twenty one years old, actually," said Chang, smirking. "And it runs, alright. This baby'll take down anything on the street." he walked to the bonnet and popped it, revealing a brand new, chrome-detailed 2100 M-accent BMW W24 Duo-fusion engine--top of the line. "See this engine? It's not even on the market yet." Neil scoffed. He could hardly believe his eyes. "I don't know how you do it, Chang. But I gotta say--I'm impressed." Eric Chang dropped the bonnet and got in the drivers seat, Sergeant Scruggs rode shotgun. The Detective turned the key, and the car roared to life. The engine revved loudly and angrily, shaking the walls of the parking building as the Cadillac lurched forward and down the ramp to the ground floor, and out of the car park. --- A few minutes later they arrived in the general vicinity of where Neil had encountered the dealer. Chang parked the car and got out, lighting up another cigarette. He looked around; the immediate area was littered with crims and junkies. He turned to Neil and spoke. "Alright, Scruggs. You saw him around here?" Neil looked to his left, spotting the same alleyway out of the corner of his eye. There were visible blood stains on the dumpster that sat a few meters in from the sidewalk. Rave looked away and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, somewhere around here. What exactly should we be looking for..?" Chang inhaled, held, and exhaled a plume of thick grey smoke. "Well if anyone in Fu Shi's entourage is around, they'd be our best bet for information... Other than that, I dunno. This shit looks like any other narcotic, it's gonna be hard to--" He was cut off by Scruggs, who had already spotted an acquaintance of Yue Fu Shi--"Leo" Zhi Chen, a small-time mobster who had ties with the Brotherhood of Infinite Longevity. He was talking on a cellphone, pacing back and forth on the balcony of a shady looking hotel across the street. Scruggs and Chang nodded to each other and moved in. They entered the Hotel, flashing badges at the receptionist, and heading up the staircase to the second floor. Thankfully, there was only one room facing the street with a balcony; 303. The Detective switched off the safety on his handgun and cocked it. Scruggs checked his pistol, though he'd rather be using the M37 knife at his hip. For this situation, however, a firearm was in order. "Ready to go." Chang whispered. The Sergeant nodded to Chang, and in one swift motion kicked the door clean from its frame. No less than five men were in the smoky room, each of them with a weapon within arms reach. There was a table in the center of the room, covered with vials of DT and mountains of unrefined powder. Chen looked inside from the balcony, dropping his phone and diving for cover. Chang let the first shot fly, hitting the man closest to the door square in the chest with a .45 caliber slug. He spun back, a river of blood erupting from the hole in his torso. Scruggs squeezed his trigger a split second later, pelting a man sitting at the drug-covered table with three nine-millimeter shots into his face. Now it was only four on two--Much better odds for close combat. Chang rolled forward and sprang up, striking one of the men in the sternum with his palm. The man stumbled back, winded before Chang hit him in the side of the head once with his right elbow. His neck cracked and he slumped to the floor. Across the room, another man grabbed the MP5 at his side and raised it to shoot the Detective. Before he could pull the trigger, Scruggs hurled a knife that lodged itself in the man's neck. He fell to the ground, firing madly as he did so. The shots caught one of the other men in the room in the shoulder and temple, killing him instantly. Chen was now the only one that remained. He fumbled with his gun, lying on his belly out on the balcony. He managed to get a shot off, but it missed both the Detective and Sergeant Scruggs. Chen's hand suddenly exploded in a shower of gore. He turned, shaking uncontrollably with fear, to see his right hand replaced with a bloody stump of molten flesh. Smoke flowed smoothly from the barrel of Detective Chang's Glock. He slid the weapon back into the holster under his left shoulder and walked up to the disabled Zhi Chen. "Leo Chen, drug baron? Last time I saw you, you were a fucking mule. What the fuck happened, Mr. Bigshot?" The cop flicked the glowing remainder of his cigarette into Leo's face. Leo spat and shook his head to get the ash out of his face, before shooting a cold glance at Chang. He spat at the Detective's feet. "Fuck you, Chang, you half-cast piece of horse shi-" Detective Chang cut him off with a stern boot to the cheek, which flung Zhi Chen into the metal railing of the balcony. He could feel his ribs bruising with the impact. He tried to push himself up, but the blood gushing from his wrist made him slip, sprawling in a pool of his own blood. Chang grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and head butted him in the nose three times, the third being so hard it threw him backwards into the hotel room. "Is this how you want to die, Leo? Beaten to death by a Cop in a drug raid?" the Detective started as he walked up to Chen's feet, towering over the broken man. "Or do you want to tell me where you're getting this Dragon's Tongue shit and live to see another day?" Scruggs leaned against a wall with his arms folded. Chang's interogation methods were certainly entertaining to watch. The mobster lay in a sniveling heap on the ground, his nose and other bones in his face badly broken. He whispered to the Detective, who leaned in close to hear him. "There's a man called Xiang Cho Tao who recruited me... I don't know much about him... I think he may be one of their under-bosses... " "--of the Brotherhood of Infinite Longevity?" asked Chang. "Yes," replied Chen weakly. "they said I could become an associate... If I helped them push the DT... " he coughed up some blood. "Please... Call an ambulance, I'm bleeding bad..." This was the Sergeant's favourite part--The part where Eric would go back on his word. "Not today Leo." He picked up Zhi Chen and dragged him towards the balcony. In one quick, violent motion Chang thrust his shoulder into the mobster's chest, lifting him up and over into a powerful judo throw. Chen was hurled into the street below, a large utility truck ploughing into him in mid-air, sending a cloud of misty blood and chunks of flesh in all directions. After surveying the carnage he had caused below, Chang grabbed his cellphone and dialed the station. "This is Special Detective Eric Chang, I'm with Sergeant Neil Scruggs downtown at the..." he glanced at a calendar on the wall that displayed the hotel's name. "...California Sunbeam Hotel?" He looked at Neil with a disgusted expression on his face. Neil responded with a 'what kind of stupid name is that?' look. "Yeah listen we're gonna need a clean-up team and forensics here, drug bust got messy. Six men, all armed, all with ties to the mob. All dead." [i]"Affirmative, Detective Chang,"[/i] said the voice of a young female at the other end. [i]"Dispatching teams to your location now, ETA three minutes. I expect you'll be leaving the scene now, Detective?"[/i] Chang grinned. "You know me too well, Alice. Keep me posted." [i]"Yes Sir, Detective Chang."[/i] Eric flipped his cell phone shut and put it back in his jacket pocket. He motioned to Neil, and the two left.

I could go either way, but if we're using this thread to organize our ideas/storylines, it seems kinda redundant to have a specific posting order as well..

[b]--- Sub Level 10, Unnamed Sector Maverick Hunter Headquarters 0019 hours ---[/b] The shrouded captor of the rampaging Demos knelt in concentration, one palm planted on the floor. It was as if he was in a trance, and his entire body shone with an aura of soft yellow light. Demos eyed him with caution and curiosity. It appeared he was summoning power from some unseen force. The Maverick Commander knew such a feat wasn't possible; even with today's technology. One final pulse of light, and the cloaked figure stood to face Demos. "This isn't going to be pleasant Demos." He snapped his fingers and the translucent red field that separated the two dispersed into the air. Demos wasted no time in launching an offensive; his unparalleled reflexes seeing him start sprinting before the field was even down. This was his chance to strike--the fusion coil staff had been set down on the other side of the small room. His captor was defenseless, or so Demos thought. With momentum rivaling a runaway freight train Demos charged at the shadow dwelling robe, leading with his massive right shoulder. The Cloak didn't flinch or move from his position. Shifting his back foot slightly, he thrust his forearm forward. It had transformed into an arcane-looking buster that resembled an ancient jet engine. As Demos closed in to inches away from him, the robed reploid discharged a tremendous bolt of undiluted thermonuclear energy point blank into Demos' stomach. The infected Hunter was smashed backwards with violent force, but once the smoke cleared he was on his feet once more and readying a strike at the shrouded tormentor. "That's good, Demos; get angry. Get [i]real[/i] angry." taunted the Cloak calmly. With an infuriated yell Demos sprung at him, fist pulled back with a white ribbon of energy dancing around his hand as his sword materialized. The shadowy figure spun left to avoid the attack, but was quickly met with the right foot of the hunter who kicked him hard in the chest before spinning to the ground. He rolled and lept to his feet, meeting the Cloaked figure face to face as they grappled. Demos grabbed his opponent by the neck and head butted him hard in the face again and again and again before throwing him hard into a wall. The metal plating twisted and cracked with the force of the impact, which sent the Cloak bouncing off the wall and down to the ground. The maverick stood hunched over his victim, savoring the moment before the kill. But his revelment was ended abruptly as a small burst of plasma fire rung out from the shadows and exploded on his back, scorching his armour but dealing him no real damage. He spun around, snarling, his eyes glowing red with the fully manifested Maverick virus peaking in intensity within him. It was now that the Cloaked stranger struck. He jumped to his feet and grasped the back of Demos' head tightly, his fingers pressing so hard they left visible dents where they gripped. Time seemed to slow down for both reploids as an intense golden light erupted from the Cloak's hand. Suddenly, all that Demos experienced was searing, unbearable pain. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound would manifest. His mind was being purged of the Maverick A.I., circuit by circuit. The agony was unimaginable. After what seemed like an eternity of suffering, Demos slumped to the ground. His eyes were dulled and smoke flowed from his mouth as his circuits radiated excessive heat. Such a massive influx of pain had nearly killed him outright, neurological systems were borderline terminal. A weaker reploid would surely of been reduced to mere scrap metal. Suddenly, his vision cleared and his racing mind slowed. Gone was the limitless rage--Demos was in full control of himself once more, and for the first time he could feel the extent of his new, untapped potential. These latest upgrades had transformed him into a complex and powerful machine of war. Startled by his sudden return to conscious thought, Demos scanned his surroundings and rose slowly from the ground, to a crouching position. He looked up at the Cloak and began to speak. "Where are we?" he muttered, voice raspy and low as his vocoder flickered back into normal operation. His GPS was damaged, or offline, or even both. The shadowy figure bent over and offered Demos a hand, pulling him up to his feet. "We are in the catacombs of Maverick Hunter Headquarters, deeper than most would believe existed. Over a kilometer below the B2 hangars and service areas. Even the B6 munitions testing fields are hundreds of meters above us." the Cloak responded, looking up at the ceiling of the room. It was hard to fathom how deep underground they were. More puzzling to Demos though was that he had never heard of any facilities this low within Headquarters. Cloak lowered his gaze and stared Demos in the eye. He extended his right hand to the Hunter. "Pleasure to finally meet you, Commander Demos. I've heard a lot about you." Demos hesitated for a second, then grasped the reploid's hand and shook it firmly. This was the first non-violent interaction he'd had with another being since his Maverick rampage. "Thank you, comrade. What's your name?" he inquired. "I would give you it, had I one to give." the reploid started. "I've never had a name... but you can call me Cloak." he said, tugging lightly on the brown shroud wrapped around his torso. Demos nodded. His self diagnostics were showing mass regeneration extending throughout his primary cortex and cerebral processing unit. The lingering signs of a severe Maverick infection. "I went Maverick, and you cured me.. How did you do that?" asked Demos. Purging a reploid of Maverick AI was possible, yes, but it required hours, sometimes days of intense nanomachine-based restructuring and recoding. Somehow, Cloak had eradicated Demos' system of the Maverick AI instantly--Or so Demos thought. A surge of berserker fury coursed through his body and he dropped to his knees, howling in anguish. Cloak let a plume of golden light erupt from his palm into Demos, engulfing him, and making the virus recede once more. Panting, the Elite Hunter got back on his feet. "That happens; it will probably happen once or twice more before you're completely uninfected. It's the virus dying--it's like an organism, writhing in pain and twitching. Don't worry, I'll suppress it." said Cloak, speaking with the tone of knowledge like someone who had done this a countless times before. Demos narrowed his eyes and looked at the stranger in front of him. "What are you?" Cloak shifted his gaze to the ground, waited, then looked back at Demos. "I suppose you would call me a proto-reploid. Built nearly a century ago to aid in the construction of Maverick Hunter Headquarters and all that lies below it. I am the last of my kind... All the others died during and right after the construction process." he knelt and touched the ground. "Below us is their grave, and their salvation." Demos was confused. He opened his mouth to comment, but was cut off by Cloak before he could utter a sound. "There is much you need to know about this place and what lies deeper beneath Hunter HQ. But not now; there are other matters at hand." A silhouette emerged from out of the shadows. Demos could hardly believe his eyes. His former comrade Reverb faced him, though it was Reverb as he had never seen him before. His armour was lighter; gone were his shoulder columns and heavy chest armour. In its place Reverb donned only a tight charcoal-grey singlet. His gauntlets and grieves were redesigned, though they retained Reverb's green and black colour scheme. "Hello Demos." said Reverb. Demos grinned and grabbed his comrade by the shoulder. "I thought you were dead." "I was. Cloak saved me; rebuilt me. And it seems he saved you too." The Elite squadron commander nodded to Cloak. He was unsure of this mysterious stranger's motives and agendas, but he was certain that they were on the same side. --- Here's a sketch I did of the new Reverb. I [i]did[/i] have a very colourful post written up highlighting his new features and stuff, but the board decided to delete it when I uploaded the picture... -___-

Smoke swirled and danced upwards from the corners of Detective Chang's mouth as he finished his seventh cigarette of the meeting. He tossed the smoldering butt in the near-overflowing ashtray at his side and stepped forward, to an empty spot at the large meeting table. He placed his gnarled hands flat on the table and spoke. "The way I see it? Anyone who wants to use this stuff is dead anyway. I say give them more of this Dragon's Tongue and let them all kill each other." The Detective's comment was met with unanimous silence. He frowned; he thought it was a good idea. Chang scratched the back of his head and started again. "Alright. I admit these fuckers are making shit very complicated for myself and the SFPD," A well-dressed member of the Jade Forest stood and addressed Chang angrily. "I do not care for you or the police force, Detective Chang. Your complications are of no concern to--" Chang reached inside of his jacket, to his waist. Guards at the doors of the room had their weapons drawn and aimed at Chang in an instant. A deathly silence fell across the room. The Detective chuckled and pulled out a box of cigarettes, lighting one up and taking a long drag. He stared at the man who had challenged him with a smirk on his face as he exhaled a hazy cloud of smoke. The Jade Forest mobster bowed to Boss Lu and Boss Fai in apology, and sat down. Eric Chang continued. "As I was saying, they're making my life very difficult. They need to be taken down, now." He slammed his fist down on the tabletop to emphasise his words. "This.. [i]Dragon's Tongue[/i] shit is getting my men hurt out there. Not to mention it's making my job considerably harder. Drug related crimes are rising, and the public isn't happy. The Chief of Police wants a total crackdown on the drug trade." A few uneasy mobsters shifted in their seats. "That's gonna make my job a lot harder--and it's gonna make your cash flow a lot smaller," said Chang, visibly annoyed at the prospect of having to do some real police work. "If you want to oppose the Brotherhood, you'll have the full support of myself and as much of the San Francisco Police Department as I can get." Luyii stood and spoke calmly to the Detective. "Do you think that is a good choice of action, Ji Qiang? Surely public co-operation between the Police and ourselves would attract federal attention, and then our entire operation could be compromised." Eric Chang, now seated, grinned at the attractive young woman addressing him. "I know a few officers who like to get their hands dirty. They'll work plainclothes, so that's not an issue. Believe me, Miss Chou, we want to end this as quickly as possible." "I've seen how available this drug is, and more people are getting it by the day." said Snowcat, standing as he spoke. "We need to act now." Eyes dart across the table, heads nodding and murmurs of agreement chorusing from the group. They whispered words of death and war. Ji Qiang puffed his cigarette and checked his watch, his silent exterior telling nothing of his racing mind. He was both for and against a war--it would benefit him greatly, but the pressure on him from his own superiors would most certainly be a great deal to cope with. Normally Chang would turn his back on such a burden, but frustrated and stressed, he hungered for relief in the form of violent retribution.

[B]Just for you, Rai. ---[/B] [B]Name:[/B] Eric "Ji Qiang" Chang [B]Gender:[/B] Male [B]Nickname:[/B] "Ji Qiang", the Machine-Gun [B]Age:[/B] 37 [B]Chinese Zodiac Sign:[/B] Dragon [B]Organization of Choice:[/B] San Francisco Police Department [B]Function:[/B] Special Detective, Head of Drugs and Narcotics division [B]Appearance:[/B] 6'0", muscular and intimidating. Spiked jet-black hair. Frequently unshaven and scruffy looking. Usual attire consists of long brown leather jacket over a shirt and tie, sometimes with bulletproof vest for added protection. [B]Weapon of Choice:[/B] Fists; Is well practiced in Bājíquán (Japanese Hakkyokuken); an art that focuses on elbow strikes, arm/fist bashes, hip checks, and strikes with the shoulder. All techniques are executed with a very distinctive form of short-range power. Also carries a police-issue extendable baton and a Glock 39; .45 GAP Caliber, 10-round magazine. Custom police shell. [B]Biography:[/B] Nicknamed "Ji Qiang" or "the Machine Gun" by those that know him, Eric Chang is a half-chinese, half-american who doesn't like taking orders. His violent outbursts and constant disobedience have made him both hated and feared by his superiors and colleagues alike within the SFPD. He loved taking out stupid crooks in the bloodiest way possible, which hurled him through the ranks as he gained medal after medal. Head of the Drugs and Narcotics division, Chang has been crooked for many years and deals almost exclusively with The Brotherhood of Eternal Repose; he likes their taste in drugs and women, and sometimes participates in their underground fighting rings. He is popular among the bosses of the gang due to his massive influence in the drug trafficking circuit. [B]Personality:[/B] Eric is quick to anger and very arrogant. He knows that he's in a position of power and likes to flaunt his authority. God complex; thinks he's invincible.