[b][i]Rahul looks around for a clinic to get some Kap-8.[/i][/b]

[b]One-Thing-Army[/b] [i]The Citadel[/i] The Ranger had never been well suited to the city, or the city, him. Too many mercs as competition, not enough space for himself, and all that. But there was a certain allure to Centra, the mega-city that was widely considered to be the quintessential heart of Ceydetica. Certainly it was crowded, but every chest had its gold, and he was certain that he could find some. Currently, Ram Odin was perched on the spire of what was once a skyscraper, crouching down with his sniper rifle, and occasionally wiping off some raindrops from his visor. From what his scope read, there were a team of mercenaries, perhaps NWH, closing in on a bounty. Ram Odin didn't like mercs, but he very much so coveted the gear they possessed. Scoping in, he prepares for the kill, and the ensuing firefight. (Open to narration for admins)

[spoiler]http://pre11.deviantart.net/578c/th/pre/f/2012/024/b/d/cowboy_assassin_by_azraellavolpe-d4njino.jpg [/spoiler] [b]A strange man walks through Centra's streets, seemingly unarmed as he heads into an alleyway, the buildings casting a shadow on him as he moves, his right hand an onyx black colour, matching the shadows. [/b] ((Open))

[b][i]Rahul sits hidden, outside a bandit base jn Sector 2, waiting to attack. He scouts it out. The whole place was a scrapyard so it was fairly easy to hide from the ourside[/i][/b] [spoiler]open to admins for narration[/spoiler]

[b]The waitress placed down the tray, which carried on it warm toast with side of eggs and bacon She placed a mug of coffee down, still hot from the pot, then scanned the customer's TAC-PAD, confirming payment[/b] "Enjoy." [b]She smiled before moving towards another booth The customer, a lightly bearded man with a narrow scar over his lip. sipped his coffee as he opened the InfoNet on his TAC-PAD[/b] "Hmph. Damn Cyber-Junkies. Always stealing our business. Gonna need to show them they can't sell anywhere they want.." [b]He took another sip of his coffee, before an indicator beeped on his TAC-PAD[/b] "Hmm?" [i]Watch your back, Leonard. We've got word that some mid-level dealer put a Bounty on you."[/i] "A Bounty? Hah! Who the hell would dare to claim that shit? Wait, there's more." [i]Normally, we wouldn't worry, but the one who picked it up is... Phantyme.[/i] [b]His face suddenly went pale as he read the message He nervously sat looked around, now seeing everyone as a potential threat[/b] "Phantyme? Dammit! I need to get out of the op-" [b]He was cut off by the a whizzing sound, followed by a loud pop as the side of his head exploded The waitress screamed, and all the other patrons started to yell in panic The man slumped over his unfinished breakfast, blood leaking into his coffee mug A small spider-web crack was seen in the window of the Diner, but the shooter was hundreds of yards away[/b] [i]Is it done yet?[/i] [b]Phantyme cycled another bullet into Kalamity as he read the message and responded[/b] [i]It's done.[/i] [b]He snapped a picture through Kalamity's scope, and sent the picture[/b] [i]Damn, man. You are more scary than they said. Anyway, your credits have been transferred. I'll be sure to recommend you to my associates[/i] [b]With that, he stood up, having been lying prone on the ledge of the building he was in[/b] Now that I think about it, I didn't eat breakfast. Dammit, and that was the closest Diner. [b]He shook his head as he slung Kalamity over his shoulder and began to walk down the stairs[/b]

[u]Centra[/u] [i]Athena walks the streets, partially covered in blood from earlier events. Though she walks them by herself, she is not alone. Shadows from the rooftops above follow her. She has a very sinister look in her eyes, which are glowing red. She pays no attention to anyone, but is seemingly on some sort of mission.[/i] [spoiler]Open[/spoiler]

[b]New Kids in Town[/b] [u]Centra[/u] The bright Centra sky of the morning is a light blue, perfectly contrasting against the gritty canvas of the city, as cars, motorcycles and hover-bikes move through the streets and law-abiding citizens roam the sidewalk. A van moves through the town; it is black, inconspicuous at first glance. But on the back, there is a decal of a red skull, cracked open, and the license plate reads [i]RDSHRE[/i]. That meant one thing; Keith was back in town. The black truck comes to a halt, and the drivers seat door pops open, with it a man comes out. His face is rugged, scarred, with a very white completion. His eyes are gray yet slightly blue, which pops out, very noticeable. His hands are beat, with many fingers missing; the left and right hands hold a red gun with streaks of black running through. The standard Redshire rifle, one used by all of Keith's synthetic soldiers, who pop out, holstering the same red gun. Blanks and civilians on the street flee in terror, and some back up in a mix of respect and horror. Meanwhile, Sawyer was further up the same street. It was a good day. He met his old friend Rahul and they went back into business, he found his old Centra home and met Lupo, who sleeps there now. He strolls down the avenue, unaware the Redshire forces impend. One synthetic soldier barks an order to a civilian, which makes Sawyer's eyes shoot open in shock as he runs into an alleyway in an attempt to flee. [spoiler]Open to anyone who wants to get involved in my story arc[/spoiler]

[b]Masq pads slowly towards the looming building in front of him. The black exterior was certainly dominating and only slightly threatening. He had made up his mind. His last lead to his sister had failed... And he she had told him of the shadow before... Of course, at the time he didn't recognize her. Anni... She had grown up so much... Yet he couldn't follow her. She was fast... But he was sure the shadow was faster. He stares at the building, debating if this was a good choice. His yellow glasses and red bandana now covered his stone face. His rifle was strapped to his back, almost his entire body size, yet less so. He looked ready for war... But he couldn't take chances. He didn't know the shadow well... Even so he couldn't trust the word of a girl who only might be his sister.[/b] [i]"Dammit..."[/i] [b]Masq shakes his head in frustration. He lost her once... He wasn't going to let his fear loose her again. He walks up to the large building looking at the door in front of him. He pulls his mechanical arm up to its surface and knocks twice, still unnerved by the situation.[/b] [spoiler]Open to Ginga[/spoiler]

[b][i] Somewhere in the wilderness[/i][/b] Will sits inside a small workshop he had built just after leaving the gang seven years prior. Mechanical parts lay everywhere. He works over a stolen synth body, extracting something from it. After a while he leaves the hidden shop and sets out into the wilderness.

[i]Centra, Cedyetica, 1800 hours, Joker, TF92. [/i] [b]As the LAT flew throughout the city I can't help but wonder; How the hell have we not been shot down yet. [/b]"Jocelyn" [i]I hear, a deep, mechanical voice giving me the single word; Baxter. [/i]"what's good Bax?" [i]I ask back, reloading my Kriksboc-19, both Pinn-7's holstered at my side. The NWH had its perks. [/i]"Shit, ETA's about 20 seconds, ready yourself" [i]He says, opening the door and our boss, Andreas, looks at it, ready to make a jump. The others were in position on a roof to take out any fleeing targets, all we had to do was shoot as many as possible before they bail. [/i]"The targets are a group of bikers, in an alleyway nearby. Should be about five of them, watch yourselves. Each have a Pinn-7, maybe one has a Kriksboc on them" [i]Johnson said, cocking his sniper and taking aim on the target alley. Me and Bax jumped from the olive green LAT onto the cold concrete of a rooftop below, Bax shrugging it off with a run, and me landing with a crouch to soften the blow. I get in position of the edge of a roof, where I'm just behind them all as Bax jumps from the other edge, meeting them from the front. [/i]"Whatchu need mang?"[i]One of the bikers asked, slowly approaching Bax, but he is met with a swift katana slash to the neck. The rest stare, shocked, and draw their Pinn-7's, but Bax manages to send a throwing knife flying towards one. Two down, three remained. I opened fire, nailing one in the back of the head and shoulder, sending him to fall on the side of his black Dradon, but the other two managed to somehow get on and start driving. I grab hold of Bax's shoulder and he grapples us into Andreas' LAT, where we tail them and give Lopez directions to where they're going. As they ride, a sniper shot pierces each ones head, almost in a manner of professionals, like it was a team of three shooting. We fly to a nearby building and pick up Spectre, Lopez and Ryder [/i]"hell of a show" [i]Lopez says, a hint of truth to his words yet sarcasm to his voice, and we fly to base. Before we land, I ask to be dropped on a nearby Centra roof, a request which was obliged, and they drop me off. I go into a room of an abandoned building, a grey one. Lopez always said this was the old NWH base, nobody believed him though. I open a dresser, where a red dress lays, and I put it on, barely reaching the top of my knees, and I walk the streets of Centra happily. [/i] ((Open))

[b] Centra Commercial District 1800 hours . [/b] [url=https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/30/f6/ce/30f6ce13594b3325f3e6218b6a4991e6.jpg]Syx[/url] is Crouched on a roof top in the busy commercial district of Centra , staying hidden her power glove scanning for someone in the middle of a financial transaction. This is the best time to do it considering ,most people are getting off work and going for something to eat. Whilst she is most certainly distracted it would be foolish to think she wasn't in total control of her surroundings and aware of anyone else who might be hunting in the area, she see'd a couple of junkies getting chased by another couple of young thugs. Suddenly she is debating wether its worth postponing what she is doing to watch the rucks and see if she can't make something out of it. Her Glove pings, " God Damn " she quickly looks to see if she can get a visual on the person making the transaction. Its not necessary , its just a peculiar habit she has fallen into. Watching her victims. ((open))

[u]Centra[/u] [i]Athena stands in an alleyway, by herself but not alone, a sinister look in her Crimson eyes. There are shadows behind her that look like people, and a dark liquid around them.[/i] "Too easy." [b]She whispered it to herself[/b] [spoiler]Open[/spoiler]

[u]Centra[/u] [b]The figure stumbles through the bleak alley way. His white coat and vest are stained red. The smell of fruity perfumes and delicate roses hangs from him like a sickly jungle, waiting to strike out. He pushes away with a turgid limp moving away from his pursuer. His mask hides his pained expression and his blank stare. His bright blue eyes wave over the blur of death. His breath wafts through his slit as the scent of mint intoxicates his mind. He was not dressed for this sort of combat. Low-lives. He didn't mean to get in a fight, especially not one that led to a few deaths. He took four down before the blade hit his left lung and broke ribs, narrowly missing his lungs. His clam voice rings out as he limps into a wider street.[/b] [i]"Sweet, Daemi! You boys don't let up!"[/i] [b]The heavy grunts of a few men back meet his strange plead. A passive way of saying to "go away". Well, it didn't work. His heavy French accent seems laced with fear as well as determination. The footsteps draw ever closer as the man draws a craved white butterfly knife from a sleeve pocket. A quick flash and the footsteps behind him stop. He chuckles.[/b] [i]"Au Revoir, assholes!"[/i] [b]He slips the knife in his pocket once more and slumps against the wall, staring at the mutilated bodies. He turns his head to the night sky letting a misty whisper fall from his cracked lips.[/b] [i]"Well, Damièn... Are you proud...?"[/i] [b]He lets out one last guttural chuckle before sliding down the wall. He puts a hand to his injured chest and wheezes in pain. He needed medical attention... But he was stubborn. He wasn't going to search for it. He blinks at the cold and leans his head back breathing in the cold air. He pulls a flask off his belt and pours through the cracked mask.[/b] [i]"This city is merde..."[/i] [spoiler]Open[/spoiler]

[b]The Deal[/b] [u]Centra[/u] The air he wades through is heavy with smoke, the smell of Tuscan cigars hanging still in the cold October air. The starts twinkle brightly, and streetlights dimly illuminate the cracked, withered black road. A man in a trench coat walks through the darkness; he is young, with a clean shaven spotless face and mellow blue eyes. Clean, orderly and whispy black hair is in perfect position, held together with gels. In his hand is a small, heart shaped medallion; he flips it open, and inside is a small picture of himself, a raven haired maiden with the deepest of green eyes and the sweetest smile. Under them is 5 children; two sons, one smiling goofily and the other scowling. There are 3 daughters, all of them similar to their mother, smiling. The sight of his family does not affect the grimace on the man's face, as he walks through puddles with big boots, stray papers fly about in the light gust, and a neon sign approaches on the horizon. It says, [i]Joe's Bar and Gentleman's Club[/i] in big, swirly red words. Strumpets lean against the side of the building smoking cigarettes with their heads back on the red brick wall, wearing long fur coats in order to cover up for their skimpy corsets and thongs. The street Joe's sits on is lonely, the night is quiet. Yet the young man walks into the bar and strip club. A bartebder sits in front of an array of liquor, pearly bored, while drunks mill about the place. One or two people sit at the bar, casually sipping alcohol. The place was studded with neon, but mostly deserted. On a table near the strip pole, a man sits, shrouded in darkness. The young man strides through the empty bar, the carpet wet, squeaking every time he takes a step towards the man. The customs of the booths are ripped, feather flowing out of it, yet the young man sits in one adjacent to the shadowy man. The rave in front of them is stained with crusty ketchup and morsels of half-eaten food, yet the young man lays his arms down on it, looking ivy I the shadows. All that can be seen is the glowing fire of a cigar and two lifeless, gray eyes. "Hello," the young man says softly, and the man in the shadows exhales smoke into the young man's face, making him wave the aid in front of his face frantically. "You Aaron," the shrouded man growls, his voice hoarse and scratchy, and in response the young man nods, taking out a briefcase under his trench coat. The young man puts the heavy leather briefcase on the table, spins it towards the shadowy man and unlocks the buckles, revealing hundreds of wads of cash. "This is my end of the deal," the young man states. "You won't get it unless I have your word." The cold dead eyes divert their gaze to the medallion, and a hand is outstretched, a few fingers missing, signaling for the young man to give it to him. "Why," the young man questions. "You want a partner or not?" The young man takes off his medallion reluctantly and puts in in the hand of the shadowy man, who flicks it open to see the picture. There is a low grumble of amusement. "Working with a family man, my favorite type. Always adds collateral in the end." The shadowy man hands the medallion back to the man in the trencoat, who puts it back on his chest. "Are you taking the 20,000 or not? It's my last score," the young man says frustratedly. The man in the shadows grumbles, and then speaks. "Look, I've been in your situation before. A loved one missing, and a kid? Horrible. I'm not gonna beat around the bush; you're in real deep shit. It's not as much as I usually take for this kinda job, but... I'll take it." The young man smiles slightly before his face turning back to normal. He extends a hand, which lingers there for a few seconds, but a hand extends out of the darkness and shakes the young mans. "Deal." [spoiler]Closed, suggestions?[/spoiler]

[i]Somewhere unknown to the world.[/i] [b]Daego kneels on the ground, looking at a tombstone. It read Emilio jokayavich, a loving father, and a true friend. Daego laughed and kicked it. It shattered, stone flying backward. He takes the coffin. Out of the ground. He rips it open, empty, except for a weapon. A scythe it's blade gleams as soon as daego touches it. He detaches the blade and puts the handle on his back. The blade still red. A branch snaps, weapons click, orders bark in a foreign language. Daego exhales, his breath visible in the cool night air. In a blur, he spins the blade around and an invisible wave spreads outwards. As it hits the men, it explodes. The bodies of the men explode violently. Their internal organs fall down in a rain, as does their blood, flecks of blood hit him and cling to his clothes and skin. He puts the scythe back together and smiles. [/b] "Hm. Far more advanced than what it used to be..." [b]He walks into the dense forest, laughing lightly as he does so.[/b] [spoiler]closed[/spoiler]

[i]The Assault, JT, Daego, Daniel, Liz and Task Force 92, 2200 hours[/i] JT: "Alright, run the plans again Ryder" Sgt. Ryder: "The base is underground on the outskirts of Centra. It's underground and has 2 entrances, so the teams will be JT, Daego, Jocelyn, Daniel and Liz, while the rest of us keep the other entrance pinned. Any questions soldiers?" Pvt. Bax: "What's the parameters?" JT: "Shoot to kill, weapons hot, but do NOT harm the target, I need him alive. Are we clear soldiers?" Task Force 92: "Yes sir!" [i]And with that, the LAT touches down and JT opens the door halfway, standing to the side while Baxter leads the team out of the LAT, firing at a group of three with the rest of TF92, until they stand in a line, all kneeling aside from JT, him standing in front of them. [/i] ((Asap, Rex, and Venus only))

[b]Alexis wanders through Hatawa, whistling to herself as she looks around, not caring if anyone saw her [/b] [spoiler]open[/spoiler]

[b]Daego walks along the sidewalks in centra. Hands in his pockets.[/b] [spoiler]whebster.[/spoiler]

[i]Jess walks into a Gunz for Funz store, Centra. [/i] "Sup miss?" "I'll need a Bo Staff" "750" "You sure we can't bring that down?" "Fine 500" "Deal" [i]Shr gets the weapon and receives the staff, before walking out. [/i] ((End)) [spoiler]Admin's narrate themselves ;)[/spoiler]

[b]Make Me[/b] [i]Hatawa; Ceydetica[/i] Finn pulled the earbuds out of his ears reluctantly, switching off the tiny radio kept in the pockets of his jeans. Normally he wouldn't listen to rock; it simply wasn't his genre of choice, but before a firefight erupted it helped to focus him, for whatever curious reason. Still, whatever helped to steel your nerves before a 40 meter drop was a welcome distraction. The wind threatened to blow the earbuds out of his ears, or him off of the ledge of the hotel roof he was placed on now, but his chrome arm held firm to the railing. Likewise, his cybernetic feet were made out of a sleek chrome, inferior to modern cybernetic augmentations in both appearance and dexterity, but for prosthetic limbs, they were top of the line. Finn wasn't a well known vigilante by any regard, being just over 17 years old. His face was handsome, in a youthful way, and perhaps he would've had some luck in with women if not for his three prosthetic augmentations; his legs, and his left arm. Someone had suggested that he become a Golem, and simply regrow the limbs the bomb had blown off, but something about the unyielding chrome replacing the vulnerable flesh resonated with Finn. His target was a corrupt official, passing through this part of town for a fundraising activity. What the public didn't know is that this man was a Junkie, and that the Underground had him in their back pocket. A bounty had been placed on his head by an anonymous competitor, and Finn, and several other mercs, had signed up for the job. When the man's car passed through the relatively deserted boulevard, Finn would drop down, end his life, and melt back into the shadows. Of course, all plans tend to go awry. This one did when Finn heard footsteps approaching him from behind. (Open)

A man dangles from the top of a dank rooftop of Centra, looking over the bustling city and blinding lights from the darkness. His figure is huge with muscle, looking like that of a bodybuilder on steriods. He wears a black leather jacket, studded with metal spikes and spindles on the jacket hems. His hair is black, greasy and tustled; his eyes are a piercing, cold blue; face worn and withered, rugged, covered in scars. He holds a giant shotgun, with the distinct words [b][i]Matilda[/i][/b] on its barrel, the name of his first wife. [spoiler]Open[/spoiler]

[b]A contract to remember, NWH main base, the Underground, JT. [/b] [i]I sit there, in my office, the dark, pitch black walls surrounding me, the lamp lights illuminating my desk and chair in the back, and the door swings open; Lopez enters the room, a note and black book in his hand. [/i]"Boss, we've a new contract" [i]He says to me, putting the note on the desk. [/i]"You may want to read this" [u]To one JT, leader of the Nation Without a Home I need to speak to you, it's urgent my son. -Dad. [/u] "What the hell... My dad was shot in front of me, who the fūck..." [i]I ask, staring at the note, before standing and taking the book from Lopez, looking inside, and seeing the pages of past contracts completed. [/i]"this one stays off the books" [i]I say, putting it down and walking to a single armoire, retrieving an olive green Skyranger from it; NWH gear, and I head out of the base on my green PMB-7 Dradon. [/i] [b]Centra city, today. [/b] [b]A message comes in on the Tac-Pad's of JT's closest friends, asking to meet him at the grey building downtown. [/b] ((Open to close friends of JT/NWH affiliates))

[b][url=http://i.imgur.com/oERF7Bt.jpg]Zoren[/url] walks around Centra, his swords wrapped in cloth 'hidden' on his back. He wanders around, enjoying his day, until two figures stop in front of him.[/b] ?: "Hitokiri Battousai, we've come to talk with you." Z: "I don't go by that anymore, I left that in the past where I thought I left you guys. And you should just crawl back to Dante, and tell him to come get me himself." [b]The two men go to reach for their guns, but before they can draw them, Zoren has his a sword to their necks. They couldn't keep up with his speed. [/b] Z: "Again, go back to Dante, you'll live longer. Besides it seems as though we are drawing a crowd." [b]The two men look around at the crowd forming around them, and start to walk away.[/b] ((Open))

[b]Liz walks around the prison, hopping to see an easy way inside to look around..[/b] [spoiler]Open[/spoiler]