Corey

[SIZE="1"]I know I'm a bit late, but maybe I'll bring some renewed interest. [center]•••[/center] The ambient light dims until all that is visible is a single circle cast by a spotlight at center stage. Slowly from the side of the stage the red tip of a cigarette is seen making it's way to to the spot. It stops halfway there, rising, glowing brightly, then falling to the floor, extinguishing. A man steps into the light, dressed in a camouflage shirt and pants, a black sash over one shoulder with silver medallions emblazoned on it, military issue boots laced up to mid calf, a black beret on his head and a M-4 Carbine assault rifle across his chest. "I!" His eyes survey the onlookers, attempting to look into each one of theirs. "Am Corey Lenser! I am with The Peoples Republic of Otaku! Each one of you have a duty to your boards." Pause for dramatic effect. "A duty to not allow a controlling, tax-raising, job-relocating, WOMD-fearing, mod-rodding, backpedaling contender into this position! Do not allow someone with the sole purpose of furthering their own extensive career to take over these boards!" He paused, deliberately adjusting the rifle, bowing his head. "I have proof." He raises his head slightly, eyes still hidden in the shadow of the beret. "Proof of my loyalty to you, the people of Otakuboards. Proof that I will do anything to make this place a utopia where everyone is given an equal voice. Where everyone can voice their concerns, while maintaining a zero tolerance policy in regard to [i]TERRORISTS[/i]!!" He thrust his fists into the air, as the crowd cheered. "That is to say spammers, flamers, and trollers." He glances offstage, a small smile spreading over his face. "I have proof..." He walks offstage, and disappears. The snap of a bone and an agonizing scream echo from behind the curtain. He reappears with an associate hauling a semi-conscious, handcuffed man with a black bag over his head, clothed in only a pair of bloodied, torn jeans. "This man has been disgracing this good nation with his attacks since it was formed. He has been exiled, publicly humiliated, reviled and pitied. But this nation has no room for pity..." His associate backhands the masked man. A small trickle of blood begins running from the bag. "Some of you might not know this man. He came around before your time, if this is the case. But he should be no less revolted for that fact. He has been on the run for a long time, but as proof of my dedication to this great nation I have spent the money, time, and countless nights tracking him down." Corey's eyes narrow to slits. "Ladies and Gentlemen... May I present to you..." He grabs hold of the top of the bag and yanks it off. "Kuja." The hackers jaw hangs at an obviously broken angle. He whines, incapable of speech, tears seeping out of his eyes, arms restrained behind his back, he's forced to his knees. "You have been tried, and found guilty. Your punishment is death." Corey removes a hidden pistol from the back of his waistband. Takes aim, and fires once. Kuja drops to the floor with a dull, lifeless thud, a small hole right above his left ear. "That is my proof, my fellow members. My proof that I will not abandon you in your hour of need. That I will not settle for second best when we deserve the top tier. We are strong. We are united. We are... OTAKU!" The spotlight switches off, bathing the hall in darkness. The crowds cheers rock the highest beam. The lights flash back to life as the candidate is nowhere to be seen. Hung from the front of the curtain is a large black flag with a bloodied red fist. Under the image 'Power through Unity'.[/SIZE]

[size=1]I always thought of OB as an extremely large apartment complex. Each floor is a different catagory. All the rooms are the forums. And right when you enter there's a massive wall of mailboxes for PMs.[/size]

[size=1]I'm asking for cash from all my relatives. Hopefully I'll get enough to cover the next two months rent. There's a lot I could do with an extra $300 in my pocket each month.[/size]

[size=1]You're not even sixteen. Don't take that as an insult, you have a lot of time to refine your work. Just think how much better you could be in four years. [i]Maybe[/i] by then you'll be able to sell your work to put yourself through college.[/size]

[size=1]I'm a firm believer in the right of salvage (or 'finders keepers' if you prefer). If someone is stupid enough to lose something of value, why should they have it returned? Being a good citizen is good and all, but I still think you should keep the crappy, damage prone 'Razr'.[/size]

[size=1]I don't know about anyone else, but all the whole article just made me laugh my *** off. I haven't read anything this idiotic since Mein Kampf.[/size]

[size=1]I used to BMX. Never really got into the street part. I was more of a dirt jump kind of guy. I stopped when my pedal snapped off resulting in a nice concussion. Now-a-days, the only extreme thing I do is climb. I like indoor walls a lot, but there's nothing like being outside on a calm day about eighty feet in the air, with nothing but a harness and some rope tethering you to the side of a cliff.[/size]

[b]Chapter Three: (0750 Hours)[/b] Lab Work [size=1][b]"That building may be our best bet for the time being."[/b] He looked over Tylers shoulder with extreme interest. [b]"Don't you agree?"[/b] He glanced over at her and grinned. [b]"Phil, come here a second. Look at this."[/b] He stepped out of the way but continued to stare at Latrice. She was better than he'd expected. Especially for a hacker. [b]"What do you think?"[/b] She'd finished putting her computer back in it's bag and met his gaze cooly. [b]"I think she's right. This line is definitely a drain. And the one running parallel to it is heavy duty electrical. We're talking a lot of power."[/b] He nodded and stood up. Corey put a hand on his shoulder, still looking at Latrice. [b]"I want you and Cutler to head over that way. Keep in radio contact the entire time, any funky shit, give us a ring and we'll be after you in a heartbeat. Scout the entrance for any kind of security. Automated weapons. Password blocked doors. Anything. We'll give you a two minute headstart, then follow. Head out."[/b] The two switched on their comlinks and exited the diner at a brisk jog. [b]"Let me ask you something, dear."[/b] He was still looking at Latrice. [b]"What made you think of a backup lab?"[/b] She shrugged. [b]"Latigo's the kind of guy who wants to cover his ass in every aspect. This building is probably running off a separate power hardline than the labs, and therefore not susceptible to failure if they go out."[/b] He nodded. [b]"And what about backup generators?"[/b] She blinked suddenly. [b]"A man as anal as Latigo may run his backup labs on separate lines, but he sure as hell would have a backup for that too. Just in case a system-wide failure occurred."[/b] He smiled slightly and adjusted his pack. [b]"Still, it's our best bet for now. Let's not keep our boys waiting, aye?"[/b] He un-holstered his automatic rifle and headed towards the door. The others followed suit. He thumbed off the safety and exited the diner. The smell of sulfur intensified a bit.[/size]

[size=1][b]"No... You're right. They won't join us, but we can still use them."[/b] Hyde shook his head in doubt, and shifted in his chair. [b]"They have ties to AVC. I can't trust them."[/b] Nikolai stood slowly and stepped directly in front of Hyde's line of sight. Their eyes locked. [b]"We don't have to trust them. All I have to do is infect them. Then they can be our eyes and ears, so to speak."[/b] Nikolai broke out in an unusually toothy smile, his blaze orange eyes sparking like flint. [b]"My abilities run deep, Hyde. I already have eyes in this city. I've already infected several dozen humans to test the limits of my new evolution."[/b] Hyde smirked. [b]"Evolution..."[/b] he said, toying with the word. [b]"I like that."[/b] He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. [b]"We've had our chat. Retrieve Nicoleta for me, Nikolai."[/b] Nikolai bowed deeply, his skeletal arms stretching out with an uncanny, and very unnatural, grace. [b]"At once."[/b] He left the room silently, like a breeze. Their current residence was nothing more than an abandoned factory turned storage complex. He made his way easily through the boxes and crates littering this specific area. Small wisps of dust danced into the air with every footfall. The scent of mildew hung in the air like fog. This was a comfortable place. Aged. Empty. Decaying. Nikolai smiled to himself and pushed open the door leading to the narcissists chosen bedroom. He stood where he was a moment, simply looking at her. She with her perfectly beautiful, yet inarguably evil face. Her shapely body. He considered a moment what he used to look like. Fairly toned. Handsome in that country boy sense. A little rough around the edges. But overall, a good looking man. The other men seemed to think so at least. [b]"?Come to disturb my peace again, Little Niki??[/b] He smiled another of those toothy grins and stood. His form was what they would all look like. All of them. The humans. The traitorous vampires. All of them. He would be their harbinger of death. She sighed. [b]?There?s a reason why you?re here. Tell me what it is so I can get on with my beauty sleep.?[/b] Nikolai's smile widened. Let her have her form. It's the only truly beautiful thing she had. Her soul was as black as his own. [b]?A few hours sleep won?t get you anywhere near what?s considered beautiful, you conceited wench.?[/b] He chuckled. So did she. [b]?Hyde?s waiting.?[/b] They walked back down the hallways, Nikolai swerving in and out of the obstructions like a leaf on the wind.[/size]

[size=1][b]Name:[/b] Nikolai Zashchit [b]Gender:[/b] Male [b]Age:[/b] 95 years, appears in his late 30's. [b]Race:[/b] Vampire [b]Alliance:[/b] Blood Brood [b]Physical Description:[/b] Nikolai stands at about six feet, three inches. He weighs roughly 110lbs and resembles a skin covered corpse. His hair is a swatch of untidy black. His brilliantly orange eyes are sunk deep into his head. Each rib is easily counted, and his hips protrude nearly to grotesque amounts. He usually wears a simple black button up with a white tshirt underneath, and a faded, lighter pair of jeans. [b]Weapons:[/b] A simple Smith and Wesson Bulls-eye Black Ops Knife. Quick and quiet. (see picture) [b]Biography:[/b] Nikolai was born in Russia in a small village in the middle of nowhere. His family farmed. Cows. Goats. Some chickens. The usual poor, Motherland folk. They never made much in the way of profit, just enough to get by. But that never bothered Nikolai. He was always pushed to go to school by his father. Unlike some of the children there, he always had a thirst for knowledge. In 1944, after finishing grade school with straight A's, and quickly picking up the English language, Nikolai enrolled in the Moscow Power Engineering Institute. After attaining his degree in Electrical Engineering, he moved to America, the land of opportunity. In New York city, he was employed by a large Electric Company. Along with a sizable salary, he discovered yet another aspect to his 28 year old mind. All through school, he'd never had a girlfriend. He used to think it was because he solely concentrated on his work, and didn't have time for commitment. But with the homosexual underground of New York sprawling before him, he finally found love... Even if it was in the most carnal of ways. He spent ten wonderful years working during the day, and going home to his various lovers during the night. Around 1950, he began noticing small things. He'd been catching more colds. Waking up in the night with cold sweats. He'd lost a lot of weight. Nikolai went to the doctors, and they put him on a rigorous antibiotic regiment which did nothing but make him more ill. For ten years he was in and out of the hospitals. No one seemed to have a cure, and no one seemed to know what was wrong with him. His symptoms worsened to the point of needing constant hospitalization by 1960. Nikolai never lived lived to see the end of the year. In October of 1960, he was laying in his hospital bed, dying and knowing it. No one, not even himself, expected him to see the next day. He had a visitor, not the first, but a rarity in the later stages of his disease. The man introduced himself as John Siegmann, a proprietor of second chances. He talked of a supernatural world unknown, though suspected, by humanity. A world of vampires. He asked Nikolai if he was ready to die. "No." After a few years, Nikolai concluded that he was given a second chance for a reason. The AIDS virus, which his sickness had come to be known as, was of human fault. It was slowly thinning out the population, but not fast enough. Through advancements in medical technology, he found that his vampiric body still harbored the virus, though dormant, and transferred it through bites. For the rest of his afterlife, Nikolai swore to infect and kill as many humans as possible, through this slow, painful, deadly disease as a way of paying humanity back for creating it. He mainly stalked in Africa, spreading AIDS with an inhuman speed through a few well placed cure rumors (having sex with virgins, burning condoms). The people there didn't know any better. They took to the cures like flies to a honey pot, and spread them and the virus far and wide. The Lowendove Brotherhood captured him in 2008, keeping him caged in a cell and feeding him animal blood to survive. During his incarceration, he worked tirelessly to improve his budding mental abilities. Telekinesis, Telepathy, Precognition. Nikolai would sit up late into the mornings trying to figure out why they kept him alive, all the time honing his mind into a razor sharp weapon. His answer came in the form of a needle. They injected him, and immediately pain overcame his body. He could feel his muscles cramping as the virus suddenly sprang back to life, traveling and somehow multiplying in his cold, dead blood. He felt it seep into his brain and corrode his thought. He was thrown back into his cell screaming in agony and seizing hard enough to snap a mortals back. In the red haze of pain, he didn't notice the passage of time, or the physical mutations occurring. Only that he saw Hyde standing at the place his cell door had been moments ago. The pain stopped. He stood, knowing his purpose wasn't fulfilled. The virus ran through his veins like blood. And what better use for blood was there, than to spill it? [b]Abilities:[/b]Along with the normal Vampire attributes of increased speed, agility, and senses, he's developed an interesting side effect from the serum. Prior to the mutation, Nikolai had latent mental abilities he was honing. Post mutation, his mental powers manifested themselves in an entirely new form. Two half inch diameter holes appeared in his wrists, just above the main veins and arteries of the arm. From these, Nikolai can spray the mutated AIDS virus into the air, infecting anyone that breathes it in, vampire or otherwise. This virus gives Nikolai a kind of telepathic/biologic bond with the individual. He can see through their eyes, sense what they're thinking, and pinpoint their exact location. Conditioned minds, and vampiric minds dampen these abilities. With this ability comes a price. Normal blood alone can't sustain Nikolai for long, anymore. He needs dirty blood. AIDS, TB, Influenza, Hepatitis, any disease. The contrast is like giving a man a cracker (clean blood), then giving him a four course meal (dirty blood). Without consuming the dirty blood, his viral stockpiles can become dangerously low. Not only does he lose his most potent weapon, but he also begins to go into a coma-like state until the virus in his body can multiply enough to get it back up to the concentrated norm. [b]Personality:[/b] Nikolai used to be a very happy, outgoing, idealistic man. Now he's a shell of his former self, in more ways than one. With his corpse-like exterior comes a brooding and sinister interior. There's not a moment that goes by he doesn't want to either infect or kill something. His rage is only matched by his hunger. He constantly needs to replenish his disease with dirty blood. The hunger of a normal vampire is bad enough. Coupled with the overwhelming urge to spread disease, and kill he's a fanatic in every sense of the word. His fanaticism? Infection.[/size]

[b]Chapter Two: (0745 Hours)[/b] Comparable Offers [center]???[/center] [size=1]Sulfur... The diner smelled of sulfur. He'd gotten there first. John second, and the rest to follow. Corey had pulled a computer out of his pack. He sat at a booth scanning the sensor reading more in depth. The rest of the team had taken up residence at the bar or watching nervously out of the windows. Phil walked in. Corey held open his hand. Phil slid a memory card out of his helmet and handed it to him. The team had already been provided with a map, but sometimes things were different. Terrain changed. A new building was constructed and left out of the update. It would be a bad thing if they were ambushed, had to fall back, then discovered their escape route was blocked by a fast food joint. He fed Phil's readings into the computer and watched as the current map was altered to fit his data. [b]Tyler-[/b] "Commander?" He looked over at the hacker. [b]Corey-[/b] "Yeah, Tyler?" [b]Tyler-[/b] "The map... It's not accurate." He smiled. At least someone else caught on fast. [b]Corey-[/b] "No. It's not. I don't know why. But so far, I've spotted three irregularities." He pointed across the street to a building with large glass windows. "That building is supposed to be a residential complex. I've never seen people live in a place with so many cubicles and florescent lights." He looked back down at the new map. "Also, there's two buildings that are about twice as tall as they are on the map. One is a block up, the other is right at the entrance." He broadcasted the new map to the others, and shut down his computer. "Now let me ask you all this." He slipped it back into his pack. "Does Latigo seem to be the kind of guy to make simple mistakes like that?" Most of them lapsed into a thoughtful look. [b]Cutler-[/b] "No, he's not. Not at all. He's a perfectionist to the core. It's how this company survived for so long. No mistakes means no problems." Corey made the gesture of a gun shooting directly at Cutler. [b]Corey-[/b] "Exactly. So why is the map different?" [b]John-[/b] "He's hiding something." [b]Corey-[/b] "That's right. Probably a great deal." He hoisted his pack back onto his shoulders. "I don't believe in secrets among a team. Secrets get people killed." He looked at each team member. "All the rumors a few years ago about this corporation being involved with a lot of shifty shit is true. Latigo wants us to destroy any information we might run across that links his company to trans-dimensional travel, biological weaponry, genetic engineering, and anything else deemed illegal by the World Security Association." The underground has a way of getting things around. Most of the team probably already knew, and the ones that didn't had a good idea. "Since he lied to us, we're going to help ourselves out a little bit and fuck him over." He looked at each of them. "The government wanted me to collect a bit of information for them. I know we're all distrustful of the government, but we rub their backs they rub ours. They've offered to double Latigos payment if we can collect incriminating evidence." [b]Latrice-[/b] "Really." Corey nodded. [b]Corey-[/b] "Total, it's enough to settle down with. Never having to worry about bills or anything again." He glanced back at Latrice. "Or maybe rebuild bridges. In any case, I'm prepared to break into some of these buildings and find out what's up. None this close to the border, all we'd find is maybe some encrypted files. But once we get near the center, there will be labs. I won't do this unless everyone is in." Everyone slowly nodded. It was a lot of money for not much more work. "Good. Now before we head back outside, does anyone have anything to say?"[/size]

[QUOTE=Boo][size=1]You made over-hours. You should always get paid extra for them. I wonder what would happen if you'd ask for another 33,33$ 'because [i]your[/i] over-hours are 3 times your normal wage'. :P[/size][/QUOTE] [size=1]Whoa. Where do you work where overtime is 3x? I want to move there.[/size]

[size=1]The question, Sara, is if you want to anger them or placate them. If you want to take the 'lower road', as it were, send them a dollar in check form. In the memo portion, write 'refund for housesitting'. It's just ridiculous enough to be terribly insulting. This would completely negate any further employment by them, but like DeadSeraphim said, do you reallly want to work for them anymore? If you're buying into their total bull**** guilt trip, then send them $25. Explain how you believe this is fair because of the plans you were forced to cancel. A kind of collateral damage they caused.[/size]

[quote name='Tical Blue']Cream of Ramen Soup: Being as how I don't like mushrooms, I decided to try this with Cream of Chicken. I gotta say, it wasn't half bad. The main thing I had a problem with was the pastiness of it, as one of the reasons I like ramen is because I don't like pasty soup, but that's just a personal opinion. It still tasted great. As a personal reccommendation, you should probably empty a little of the water befor putting in the Cream of Chicken.[/quote] [size=1]But see, when you're camping a little bit has to go a long way. So it's perfect.[/size]

[size=1][b]Cream of Ramen Soup[/b] Not only is this dish extremely tasty, but it's the pinnacle of camping delights. [list]Ingredients:[/list] ?*One can of cream of mushroom soup. ? One package of your favorite ramen soup with seasonings. [list]Directions:[/list] ? Cook the ramen until it's ready to be eaten. Then dump the can of mushroom soup into it. Cook for another minute or two and enjoy. ? Add the flavor packet (seasoning) if you want, but I prefer the taste of it without.[/size]