Sign Up Alternates [M-VLS]

[Blayze]

[center][b][u]Alternates[/u][/b]
[/center]
[size=1]
It was not long ago that the human race was content with its own existence, happy to live out its life peacefully. It was truly a Utopian society. Solar energy had cleaned up the skies, freed humanity from the coming onslaught of global warming. War was a thing of the past, ended by the signing of the Universal Peace Treaty, not long after the Third World War. Diseases, cancers had been wiped out by huge advancements in medical technology. Truly, it was Paradise.

But peace is a fragile thing, and it was not long before it was shattered. But not by an army, not by terrorists, but by the government. They saw the peace that had settled, and mistook it for weakness in their people. They took over, introducing a fascist, totalitarian regime. They took complete control of the world, clenching an iron fist around it.

In an attempt to create a race of super-soldiers, a powerful Master Race, in the mould of Adolf Hitler himself, the scientists now enslaved to work for the government were forced to develop and release a virus, one which would endow the population with enhanced speed, strength, agility and stamina.

But, there was a flaw, possibly worked in by the scientists as a way to end the government's plans. Less than half of the world's population had the receptor gene for this virus, meaning that only they gained the special abilities. The other portion of the population were unaffected.

In the beginning, the government was happy with this smaller amount of super-soldiers. They did their job, hunting down wanted criminals and dealing with them in the government's own way.

But soon they became feared. These super-soldiers were becoming cockier, more arrogant, yet more powerful. They reclassified themselves as post-humans, and named themselves "The Alternates."

The government was afraid of them, and turned on them at the last minute. Now the hunters had become the hunted, and they were being tracked down and slaughtered. Pretty soon the government had destroyed almost every single one of the Alternates.

But those who survived wanted to fight back. They started the Resistance, an underground movement devoted to bringing down the corrupt government that rules this earth.

I am a member of that Resistance. My name is Jackson. I have a first name, but it is too dangerous out there for me to reveal it to you. I, as with all Alternates, am being hunted by government assassins, wanting to kill me for what they turned me into.

But little by little we are fighting back, attacking the chinks in the government's armour. And soon will come the time when we can end this war...

Now, as you can probably tell if you have read that backstory, this little tale is a little like Equilibrium, or the upcoming movie UltraViolet. It tells of a Utopian society brought to ruin by a corrupt government, and of those who wish to fight back.

It is set in the not too-distant future, where all diseases have been cured, global warming is no longer an issue, but the government has taken over. For an idea of what the cities look like, think of Libria [[b][url="http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b16/Blayze54/Libria.jpg"]click[/url][/b]] from Equilibrium. Pretty bland, but kinda futuristic also.

Weapons are more high-tech versions of modern weapons. Guns feature heavily, handguns, rifles, uzis etc., but so do bladed weapons: swords, throwing stars, knives etc.

You will be playing my fellow Alternates, some on the side of the Resistance, some on the side of the Government, hunting the rest of us down. Because, oh yes, there are some that we would call "Gene Traitors," Alternates that choose to side with the Normals, whether it is for money or other such personal gain.

I will be playing Jackson, of course.

Let the games begin!

First up I'm gonna need a sign-up sheet from you. But this is the thing. I'm getting kinda bored of the old-style sign-up sheets, where everything is written out for you. Instead, I'm gonna take a leaf out of some other people's book, and say that I want a short written piece about your character, including in it:[/size]



[list]
[*][size=1]Name[/size]
[*][size=1]Gender[/size]
[*][size=1]Appearance (if this is too difficult to work in to your written piece, just attach a picture or written description)[/size]
[*][size=1]Personality[/size]
[*][size=1]A little history, you don't have to reveal too much, leave some for the RP[/size]
[*][size=1]Weapons[/size]
[*][size=1]The Side you are fighting for (Resistance or Government)[/size]
[/list][size=1]
Remember, you are all super-humans, so you will have better fighting skills than your average. Again, if you have seen Equilibrium, think of that, if not, I guess the Matrix is as good as, but possibly not as over-the-top as that.

Hope you have fun creating. My sign-up will be posted in a few short days. Peace Out.[/size]

[Whattheflip]

[SIZE=1]Zaccharius gave himself a little smile, his decoy had worked, the gene-traitors had found him and now he had three hot on his trail, he rose out of his hiding spot in the alley and jumped on top of the roof next to him as the thee gene-traitors made the corner and jumped up after him. Only they didn't know what they had waiting for them. As the two males and one female landed on the roof top Zaccharius had his back to them, his black clothes blending into the darkness, he turned his head sideways towards them as the big male one started saying,"[B]Resistance Fighter, for resisting the the government you are und-[/B],"
"[B]Ahh, save it[/B]," Zaccharius interrupted, now turning towards them, letting them glimpse his pale white flesh and burning red eyes,"[B]Ha, the appearance of an albino does scare some[/B]," he thought to himself as the trio took a step back at his size and frightening appearance,"[B]Hmmm, new recruits[/B]?" Zaccharius said before dropping his trenchcoat and releasing his two short swords from the holders on his back with the handles facing down they came out easily,"[B]I think it'll be swords tonight[/B]," Zaccharius said as he sat down his dual uzis and pistols next to his trenchcoat and braced himself for battle.

A few hours later, with the three would-be captors bodies rotting in a dumpster and Zaccharius nursing a slash on his shoulder, Zaccharius dropped into the underground headquarters of the resistance to be met by Jackson pestering him with questions, Zaccharius quickly cut him off,"[B]Look, Jackson stop worrying about me, how long have we known each other, ten years and in all those years I've proven myself countless times, I was with you when the resistance started and I'll be with you when we beat those bastards[/B]." Zaccharius said stripping off his shirt and bandaging his shoulder revealing his toned body covered with his battle scars. Zaccharius thought back in time, before the government takeover, then his time of hunting criminals, but Zach quickly shook those images out of his head and stood up, all six feet three inches of him ached,"[B]Jack, I'm going to bed[/B]."

(I think that met all the requirements right)[/SIZE]

[Albert Flasher]

[FONT=Times New Roman][COLOR=Sienna]Jethro Tull sat alone in his brightly-lit, sleek, and futuristic office. He was staring at the door, his head resting on the mohogany desk, waiting. His money was late; he hated it when things were late. It implied a lack of respect, a lack of urgeny, unprofessionalism... just the kind of thing Jethro had no wish to get involved with. He sighed and buried his head in his arms; when had it come to this? Working for no-bodies with no class or style. Times are changing, he thought.

Than his head popped up; footsteps. Three sets, by the sound of it. His money, he hoped. He brushed his long brown hair from his eyes, straightened out his black suit best he could, and tried to look as calm as possible.

The white door slid open with a futuristic 'woosh', and the smiling form of Mr. Gene Irbe, in all his fat and pompus glory, stepped through, followed closy by his dark-sunglass-and-suit-wearing entourage (Alternates, Jethro knew). Mr. Gene Irbe was a disgustingly fat fellow. He was old, too. His suit could barley contain his massive rolls, and most of his face was obscured and pudgy; combined with the wrinkles and liver-spots that covered almost every exposed part of his body, he was rather hard to look at. Jethro couldn't help but chuckle at his pathetic attempt to cover up his baldness, the completely out of place mat of black hair was simply hilarious.
[B]
"Mr. Tull."[/B] Gene Irbe announced, smiling the disgustingly fat smile he owned, while stepping forward and collapsing on one of the big chairs Jethro had set out; he was almost afraid it would break, and he'd have to buy a new set.
[B]
"Mr. Irbe!" [/B]Jethro shouted with his absolutely fake smile, with fake excitment, and real impatience. [B]"You look well, as do your, uh," [/B]Jethro paused as he studied the imposing figures of the man's guards, emotionless and threating in their black sunglasses and black suits, with their intentionally obvious guns visable at their waist, [B]"friends." [/B]
[B]
"Yes, yes, fine, just tell me if you got the targests." [/B]Mr. Irbe didn't look interested. It seemed like a labour for him to breath, let alone talk, and Jethro could have sworm he caught sweat glisting on his brow.

[B]"Why would I have called you if I hadn't?" [/B]Jethro could tell that the body-guards were studying him; taking in his features, his dark-green, intellgent eyes, his smooth, long, brown hair, his pointed features and high cheek bones, his deceptivly lean frame, his almost obscenely long limbs, black suit, high coller and all. All of it.

Mr. Irbe didn't say anything, so Jethro slowly got up and slinked over to a terminal jutting from the wall. He deftly punched in a code, pressed the omnipresent 'enter' button, and stepped back as the section of wall slid into the ceiling. He made the 'after you' jester, smiling polietly.

Mr. Irbe laboured out of his chair, and lumbered over to peer into the room. The room was fairly large, lit by very low light in the ceiling. The walls were of very crude cement, with straw bedding littering the ground. Two figures were propped up againts the wall, dressed in torn clothes and the various festering scars. Their eyes moved freely but the rest of their bodies were paralized completely; a precautionary measure, Jethro thought, he never knew what any given Alternate was capable of.
[B]
"That's them, in'n't? The ones who were raiding your labs?"[/B] Jethro inquiered, as Mr. Irbe withdrew his head.
[B]
"Yea," he grumbled, "those are the ones. Rotton rebel filth."

"So you want to take them or want me just to kill them?"

"Do whatever you like with them. Just get them the hell away from me."[/B]

Jethro frowned. He may have been a traitor, but he still hated killing his own kind.

[B]"Right, than. Now, about the payment...[/B]" Jethro let a sly smile slip across his face.

Mr. Irbe handed him a package, grumbling - he seemed like the kind of guy who hated to part with money. Jethro opened the envelope and flipped through the bills within. He looked up.
[B]
"It's not all here. Are you trying to cheat me, Mr. Irbe?"

"The agreed upon amount is there, stop being greedy."

"That was an inital estement... the cost has increased. Pay me in full, Mr. Irbe. Or I'll make sure the rebels aren't the only ones making life difficult for you and your enterprise."[/B]

Mr. Irbe scoffed, stepping back. The two goons stepped forward, drawing their concealed weapons. They stood their, looking as menacing as ever. Jethro watched, amused. [B]"I suggest you take the money, Mr. Tull."[/B]

Jethro sighed, shook his head, and slid a knife from his belt...

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Jethro's black Mercedes pulled up in a dark back-ally. The engine stopped, he got out, and pulled three corpses from his trunk. Most people would have had troubled with the fat body of Mr. Irbe, but he tossed the giggling body into an allyway with one hand, almost as an afterthought. He frowned; he was going to have to reapolster the trunk now to remove the smell of blood.

He went around to the other side of his car, opened the door, and reached in, pulling out the two resistence members by their collers. They were still paralized, but they could hear and think and see. They'd be fine in a couple of hours. Jethro dropped t hem roughly againts the side of one of the run-down buildings. He sighed.

[B]"You two, when you can move again, go back to Resistence HQ. Tell Jackson that this is a favour from Jethro. He'll know."[/B] He gave them another sly smile, got back into his car, and took off.

OOC: Ok, I think I covered it... I tried to make the background history as vague as possible.[/COLOR][/FONT]

[Starwind]

Crone walked slowly and subtly, he only had one shot at making this work. He was nearing a government scanning check point as they approached, this was big. He looked toward the front and noticed a large man in uniform with a long syringe, at least three inches in length, attached to a long hose leading to a rather impressive looking piece of machinery. They used these big things to find Alternates like him. The tall man at the head of the line shouted "Boy, your next."

Crone held his cloack around him tightly with the hood up, with only a few strands of his brown hair visible. His skin was of a light tan and his face was turning red, this thing was damn hot, but it was the only way he could keep his things with him. Crone rubbed his boots against the ground and then looked up to the large man in uniform.

Crone stepped forward, the man towerd over him. The man seemed to derive great pride in that fact as he tried to look as intimidating as possible, and Crone feigned worry. The guard began a rather tedious interrogation, like it would do any good. The guard in his deep proud voice asked "Do you have any affiliation with the group known as the Alternates."

Crone kept up his innocense act, purely for the fact that he found it entertaining. It really had nothing to do with his objective, as he shook his head and spoke in a timid voice "No sir."

The man still boasted a proud look and carried himself very high "Are you aware of the current threat status in this area."

Crone nodded with him "Yes I am sir." trying to sound innocent and scared.

This guy was as dumb as he was big, he bought right into this, as his ego was visibly swelling. He looked to Crone and asked "How old are you, boy."

Crone shudderd a bit, for no other reason then the fact he felt like bursting in laughter at this big guys idiocy, as he responded "19 sir."

He finally drew the large, intimidating needle from before and jammed it viciously into Crones right arm, probably looking for a resonse of pain from it, though he recieved none. There wasn't enough time for the big guy to wonder why the kid wasn't screaming in pain, as the machine attached to the syringe squelled horribly. The man's face turned pale as he began to speak "Your an Alter-"

Cut short by Crone's cloak leaving his body and wrapping itself to his face. With a quick strong tug, the man's neck snapped and he fell to the ground. A panic quickly spread, as the check point, which had only had few guards before, was now swarming with armed guards. Crone reached back and drew from his back a large bow. The string was a thin piece of razor iron and the bow itself was a long curved piece of solid bronze. He jumped forward and swung the strung end at a guard and nearly severd his arm off.

Civilians screamed and rioted, but were hesitant to leave, like they were hypnotized by the scene unfolding around them. Guns rang out as Crone weaved his way through the numbers of guards, using there bodies as an effective sheild from the flying bullets. WIth nothing but his hands and bow he managed down all fifteen of the guards who were attending the post.

He heard the squelling a yet another approaching siren, the cavalry had arrived. Crone reached to his hip and pilled a small two inch tube of steel. With a flick of his wrist, the tube became a two foot arrow, with an ominous glowing tip. Crone strum it back in his bow, as the strong and heavy metal moaned as it bent. With a quick sound of the ripping air, the arrow launched with all the force of a bullet. The arrow the burst in through the thick shell of the first car approaching. The car then burst into flames.

This brought a temporary hault to the approaching cavalry. Crone turned to the crowed of on lookers and smiled once, then gave a wink to them as he took off in a retreat. As he was getting clear, he heard the sound of footsteps in sync with his own. Without stopping, he whipped around and fired off another arrow toward the empty alley way behind him.

A laugh filled the alley "Nice show back there Crone. You always did like to stir up trouble."

Crone cringed for a moment, but then turned it to a smile "You know me, Kain. I've always believed in the idea of 'go big or not at all'."

A man then dropped as if from thin air into the alley way. He was only slightly taller then Crone, maybe an inch or two. He was dressed in a normal white button down shirt, with black denim jeans. He had blonde hair and green eyes that seemed to be glowing in this dim alley light. His smile was glowing with a white light as well.

Crone took a slow step toward him "Are you really willing to go through one more bout, Kain."

Kain's hands slide to his waist and drew a pair of daggers "It wouldn't be a proper reunion if we didn't, now would it."

Crone jumped and swung the razor of his bow, as the ever nimble Kain kicked himself backward. Crone rolled from the swing to a front flip and tried to bring the heel of his foot onto the back of Kain's head. Kain skipped to the right, and Crone began to spin after him, swinging his bow. Kain jumped and planted both of his feet on the wall. He then thrusted himself off and swung with both knives in hand. Crone flipped his bow and blocked the daggers with his bronze bow. The two stood in look for a moment of two, then pushed off each other.

They simply stared at each other for quite some time, then they both smiled again. Kain spoke up "You'll never change will you."

Crone looked to him, as he corrected his posture and stood up straight "Of course not. It's what makes me, me."

Kain turned away "You always had to choose the other way didn't you. You could never do anything easy."

Crone turned as well "And you were always into instant gratification. You never liked to have to work for your reward."

The two walked off in opposite directions, without anothere word. The mission had been accomplished, they had beaten the government dogs in a public theater. This would show them that this dark regime was not invincible. That you could rise up to them and win. Hopefully this little stunt would inspire others to believe that this government could fall, then this war would finally end.

Crone put his bow back on his back and mutterd under his breath "Jackson better appreciate all the trouble I went through to make this plan work." He smirked a bit then dissappeared down the dark alley way.