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Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]
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Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby The Romulan Republic » Mon Jul 06, 2009 10:58 pm

(OOC: this is the IC thread for the Superhero RP. If you are interested in joining, please see the OOC thread: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=5896. I'll be posting an IC intro to the various NPC factions shortly. However, feel free to start posting immediately.)

The backstory: History preceded fairly normally for many millenia, but starting in the last two hundred years, certain portions of the human population began to exhibit supernatural abilities. It is theorized that such people may have existed earlier, but only became apparent on the world stage due to increasing globalization, increasing population, and a world willing to scientifically investigate such people rather than classify them as witches or demons and burn them or put a stake through their heart.

Initially such beings were often met with skeptisism and/or with fear. Many were killed. Others were imprisoned or became wards/property of the state, used to advance government agendas. Some fought back, eventually leading to World War X, as it was later called. In this conflict, three sepperate organizations of superhuman terrorists or freedom fighters waged war for their freedoms, while other superhumans used peaceful means to advance their agenda. Valhalla opperated mainly in the northern latitudes, Red Eagle operated primarily in the First World, Night Hawk operated in one nation at first but eventually globally, and the Green Cross operated mainly in the developing and colonial worlds. Valhalla and Red Eagle were aiming to establish a seperate state for super humans. The Green Cross was divided on weather to seek equality among "normals" or a sepperate state, but used mostly peaceful means. Night Hawk was the most militant, eventually morphing into a group that sought to genocide all "normals."

Ultimately the war did lead to greater rights for super humans, though not in the way the militants usually intended. The war reached its peak when Valhalla split, one half merging with Red Eagle and the other being consumed by Night Hawk. Shortly thereafter, Night Hawk carried out a psionic attack that left roughly fifty thousand people dead and some two hundred thousand others with sever neurological damage. Shocked and now fearing a ruthless retaliation and escalation, and in exchange for a cease-fire and a semi-autonomous Super state under international jurisdiction, Red Eagle and Valhalla laid down their arms. Night Hawk, subject to sever retaliation for its psionic attack and now going it alone against a united front, disappeared into the shadows.

The new "Super" state was founded on the island of Marda, situated in International Waters. The island is roughly forty miles long and twenty miles wide, oval shaped but elongated at one end with a small harbor at the other. Most of the rest of the island is ringed with cliffs, and it lies in stormy waters, making it difficult to access, even with more modern vehicles than those available at the time it was settled. The "Supers" were allowed to settle there and largely self-govern, but many nations forced all their identified supers to move their, and the island was inhospitable, relying largely on supplies from the international community that were often not forthcoming. Many Supers died from complications caused by the side effects of their powers, or even common diseases and hunger. Their powers eventually allowed most to survive and build a small, if poor nation. However, their was great resentment, as it was widely felt that they were not given even the meager due the treaty had promised them, and that the had only been given the island to serve as a dumping ground for Supers where the rest of the world could then safely ignore them.

However, some progress was being made. Supers who had elected to remain living among the normals had often had difficulty finding careers, but many had made a name for themselves as performers, in film, magic shows, or circuses. A few had eventually parlayed that fame and wealth into a political career, gaining increased rights for Superhumans. On the other hand, many in desperation had opted to use their powers for a life of crime, leading many nations to turn to a greater degree of paranoia, bigotry, and state control. In response, Alvin Waterson, a Super who possessed an IQ of 250 and could manipulate objects' molecular structure (allowing him to perform acts such as turning lead into gold in small amounts), joined with two former collegues from his days as a stage magician; Vera Smith and John Hayward, who could shapeshift and telekinetically manipulate objects/read minds, respectively. Acting under their old stage names, The Alchemist, Mirage, and Mindreader established The White Shield, ostensibly as a private investigative firm but in actuality the first Superhero league. They rapidly became pop-culture icons, recruiting dozens of Supers into their ranks, gaining permission to operate in over thirty nations, and capturing or assisting in the capture of over 2,000 criminals in the sixty years since they came into being, over 500 of those being Supers. The reward and bounty money they brought in, as well as charitable donations, were used to establish over a dozen private schools and hospitals for Supers in a dozen different countries, as well as a law firm specializing in cases of Superhuman rights and Superhuman law in general.

Unfortunately, the conditions on Marda Island failed to improve dramatically, and oppression of, killing of, and experimentation on Supers continued in many nations. This has lead to a sharp rise in Super-related terrorism over the last fifty years, and especially the last twenty. Many fear the possibility of a sequel to World War X, this time fought with modern weapons in a world containing a far larger number of Supers, many more powerful than any known to have participated in World War X. Some would even argue such a war is already under way.

Edit: have added the backstory from the OOC thread.
Last edited by The Romulan Republic on Fri Nov 06, 2009 9:04 pm, edited 4 times in total.
"Our progress in degeneracy appears to me to be pretty rapid. As a nation, we began by declaring that "all men are created equal." We now practically read it "all men are created equal, except negroes" When the Know-Nothings get control, it will read "all men are created equal, except negroes, and foreigners, and Catholics." When it comes to this I should prefer emigrating to some country where they make no pretence of loving liberty -- to Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy of hypocracy." - President Abraham Lincoln.

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Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby The Romulan Republic » Wed Jul 08, 2009 1:51 pm

(OOC: with my apologies for the very long delay, I'm back and would like to continue where things left off (ie, starting the game) :) . Here is the intro to the IC thread, which should establish some of what's going on right now. If no one's still interested, this idea will be put on hold for a later date. Also, I apologise if this sucks, and I know its very long, but I wrote most of it very late at night and I can't be bothered to edit it any more. ;))




The black limo. slowed to a halt at the corner of Greenway and 41st., in the South Harbor district of Newport City. Newport was a major centre for international shipping and business, but like many major cities it had its slums and ghettos, away from the hotels and towering office buildings of the financial districts and tourist centres. On the other side of the intersection, a flashy neon sign marked the Red Serpent Bar and Night Club, a fairly classy establishment for this part of the city, but one with an unsavory reputation that associated it with the organized crime that plagued this city as the primary point of departure for the International Super refuge state on the Island of Marda.

The limo. idled as it waited for the light to change, then turned and headed up Greenway before turning into a narrow side alley that ran behind the three story bar and nightclub and pulling to a stop beside a locked metal door. The limo's doors opened, and three men in suits stepped out of the car and into the alley. The first two to exit stood in sharp contrast to each other: a tall thin man with pale skin and eyes, and a heavy set man who looked like he could have tossed the bouncers out front to the curb. In truth, that was the least of his combat abilities. Both however wore dark glasses over their eyes, were fitted with earpieces, and had the demeanor of men who knew how to kill or incapacitate someone with ease and weren't afraid to do so. They both scanned the alley for any sign of observers or threats before the third man stepped out of the car.

The third man to exit the limo. was of a more average appearance, not particularly short or tall with dark but slightly greying hair. His eyes however were sharp and piercing, and he had a cold, calculating demeanor. His suit was of finer quality, and the gold ring on his finger further marked him as a man of considerable wealth. The other two stepped to either side of the doors and stood respectfully at attention as the man exited the car and slowly scanned the alley. Then he turned, approached the back door of the nightclub, and knocked twice. A few moments passed, and then the door opened and the three men stepped inside. As soon as they were gone, the limo. drove away. The liscence plates were fake, of course, but their was no need to attract undue attention. Recent reports had suggested someone had hired The White Shield to monitor their activities, and this area was often under survailance due to the night club's reputation.

Inside the hall they were met by a group of four armed men in suits, their hands on their holstered handguns. They stopped the four men and quickly searched them, then two of them turned and escorted the group down the hall and up some stairs. The dull thud of what the man with the gold ring thought might charitable have been called music came through the walls from front of the Night Club. They climbed the stairs, then turned right into another hall and stopped outside a door guarded by two more armed security men. One of the men stepped inside, and after a few seconds, he stepped back out and waved the three guests through the door.

The room inside was richly decorated, with a lush green carpet, paintings and sculptors lining the walls, and a polished desk of exotic wood at the back. Their were, however, no windows. The man with the gold ring saw three cameras at a quick glance, in addition to the one in the hall outside. Mob bosses tended to be paranoid. Behind the desk sat a short, broad-shouldered man in a fine suit with short, receding dark hair. Jimmy Mahone, boss of the South Harbor gangs, was joined by two more enforcers and his personal hit man, known in mob circles as The Viper. All three wore automatic weapons in holsters with their hands on the holsters. But Jimmy just smiled.

"Welcome. Please, be seated."

The man with the gold ring sat down and accepted a drink.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I'm not a very eloquent man I'm afraid, so I'll get to the point. You wish to expand your operations into the Island of Marda and internationally in general. However, smuggling in this city is heavily controlled by rival gangs. We need to make some... covert transactions with some partners of ours in Marda, but my employers cannot afford to be publicly associated with this kind of business."

"And?"

"And, we have an opportunity to help each other. We have ships, men, and more importantly, connections. We can get your shipments through to Marda, and keep the rival gangs and the police off your backs."

"And in exchange, my boys take the fall if things go bad?" Jimmy smirked. "And why exactly should I agree to this... proposition?" Jimmy still smiled, but their was a nasty edge to it now, and the enforcers seemed poised to draw their weapons at the slightest provocation. Without looking at the pale-skinned man, he made the slightest hint of a nod, still meeting the mob boss's cold eyes.

"Frankly, a man such as yourself will surely have a backup plan to ensure that any incidents are not traced back to him. However, I think you will agree that any slight risks in the event of an unfortunate failiur are outweighed by the chances of considerable profit. And of course, my employers will pay a considerable fee up front."

"How much?" Only a very observant man might have noticed the slightly dazed tone to the mob boss's voice. The man with the gold ring smiled.

"Fifty million in cash."

Jimmy's eyes widened slightly.

"You can garuntee it?"

"Of course." He held out the golden ring for the mob boss to see. It clearly bore the emblem of the Seacrest Corporation. Unfortunately, the enforcer Michael noticed it as well, and his pistol was out in a second, followed by those of his two subordinates. However, the man with the golden ring just turned and smiled again.

"Please, I don't think their is any need for such uncivilized behavior. We are here at your employer's invitation, after all."

Jimmy nodded and waved at them to lower their weapons, but the head enforcer wasn't swayed so easily.

"These Seacrest bastards have been hiring your rivals for years. You going to make a deal with them now? Whatever scheme they have going, we need no part of it... Sir."

"Enough!" Jimmy's voice was sharp, angry, but it wouldn't have mattered. The enforcer had already lowered his weapon.

"Now, are we agreed on this proposition," the man with the golden ring asked. Jimmy nodded.

"We can work out the details later. I will be sending someone to meet with you later. This time, you choose the location. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

* * *

Ten minutes later they exited the alley, the man with the golden ring and his two guards. Almost at once, the limo. reappeared, pulling to a stop inside the alley. They stepped inside. He waited until they had driven a few blocks before he turned to the pale-skinned man.

"Not a bad job at all. Your psionic effects of persuasion were most useful I think. They probably would have agreed anyway, but you made sure that the boss wouldn't object, and that his enforcer would loose his itchy trigger finger. You'll be rewarded well for this." He turned to the other enforcer.

"You as well. It is fortunate that we did not require your skills tonight, but it does not matter. You will have ample opportunity to use them in the future."

The limo. drove back towards the financial district, where unknown to any of its occupants, another incident was already underway...



The Grand Mason and Sons' Bank:

Gregory Smart leaned back against the wall and yawned. It was almost dawn now, and he felt like he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. His head ached. God, he hated the night shift.

With a crackle the lights went out all over the bank. He looked up, startled, then glanced around uneasily. He could hear footsteps in the dark, but saw nothing. Slowly, he let his had drop to the holster of his pistol and stepped back into the darkness.

"Anyone their?"

Their was not answer. The footfalls faded into the darkness. Forcing down his growing fear, he drew his gun and advanced into the hall. He pulled out his light and turned it on, sweeping it across the hall. He paused. Behind the teller's desks, he could see that the door to the vault was open.

"Shit." He turned off the light and, keeping his gun trained on the door, he pulled out his radio again.

"Come in Harry, this is Gregory. I'm in the entry hall. Power's out and the vault door is open."

Their was no answer. He checked the radio, and swore again when he saw that it wasn't working. He felt cold. If whatever had knocked out the power had also knocked out the radio and opened the vault door, then he was probably dealing with a Freak.

"Government should lock them all up," he muttered. But he was afraid. His brother had been killed by a pyrokinetic Super in a bar fight. His grandfather had fought in WWX, and had been left semi-senile in the psionic attack by Night Hawk. He wanted to run, but his job was his job. Maybe their was no one in the vault.

He advanced towards the door, gun raised, then stumbled over something and looked down. Harry lay face down on the floor in a pool of his own blood. He was obviously dead, his throat slit open. Gregory wanted to swear but couldn't form the words. His throat was constricted. Fighting the nausea and the fear, Gregory stepped slowly through the door and into the vault. Their was definitely someone moving inside. He considered giving a warning, but decided against it. If it was a Freak in their, his best chance was surprise. Most Supers could be put down by a bullet in their head.

He stepped through the door slowly, quietly, but every breath and footfall sounded loud in his ears. He heard another noise up ahead. Someone was moving something out of a safe. As his eyes adjusted he could see a faint outline of a man. He stumbled slightly, and the thing turned, staring at him with beady red eyes.

He yelled and raised his gun, opening fire as the Freak spun towards him, hands morphing into blades as it charged. He fired wildly, stumbling backwards. He emptied a full clip into his assailant, heard the ringing sound of the bullets ricocheting off of whatever that thing was. He hit the floor hard and the thing leaped over him, running towards the door. He rolled onto his stomach and fired after it, but the thing disappeared through the door and into the hall.

* * *

The shape-shifting Super name Charlie Hanson dashed down the hall, the bullets reflecting off his back as he ran. The heist had gone wrong the moment he lost the advantage of surprise. He had got in easily enough, using his shapeshifting ability to disguise himself as one of the employees, then hiding in the building until after dark while he waited for the girl took the lights out with a psionic pulse. He had altered his eyes to see heat in the dark, then hardened his skin to resist small arms fire. He had surprised and killed one guard in the dark by the vault door while disguised as another guard, then taken a key and opened the vault. That had negated the need to cut through the wall.

But then that stupid blob of meat had entered the room, and by now the gunfire would have been heard by anyone else in the building, or possibly the street. That meant cops would come soon, and while the boss might laugh at "the normals in the blue suits," he knew that enough bullets from an assault rifle would put him down. He was an infilterator, not a fighter. He dashed across the hall, glancing left, right, and ahead as he ran. No cops. He was almost at the door....

He whirled as something dropped to the floor behind him. A man in a tight-fitting outfit of some type, standing their in the dark, superficially at ease but obviously ready for action. He snarled. No one got by him like that unless they were a Super. And by the looks of it, one of the so-called "heros." He thought about running, but that risked being shot in the back, self-righteous "hero" or not. Then the newcomer spoke.

"Easy friend. No one has to get hurt." Right.

Charlie moved, lunging towards his assailant, blade-like hands spinning. An ordinary human would have been drawn and quartered in a second, but the Super simply smiled; smiled and disappeared.

Charlie spun again as the teleporter appeared behind him, but he was a second too slow, and got a flying kick to his chest. He doubled over, coughing, lashing wildly at his attacker. He tried to get up, but something landed on top of him and he crashed to the floor again. He felt someone, no doubt the teleporter, pin both his arms to the ground.

"By Peace, Justice, and Liberty, I am placing you under citizen's arrest. If you attempt to resist, I will use whatever force I have to."

Charlie knew those words. Whoever had attacked him was a member of The White Shield, in name an international private investigative agency, but in practice the world's oldest, largest, and until recent years most respected league of Superheros. But at the moment he had bigger concerns. The man who had hired the boss's gang had made his instructions very clear: no evidence. If someone didn't make it out, that was their problem.

"Let me go you f******g idiot! This whole place is going to blow up in about five seconds!"

He felt the agent loosen his grip slightly. Seizing the opportunity he threw the Super off, rolled to his feet, and began to run towards the door again.

* * *

Pulsar watched the images playing inside his mind.

"Damn it, he's up again. Shall I wait 'till he's clear?"

"No. He is compromised." The black cloaked man's voice left no room for doubt.

Pulsar couldn't help but feel a degree of satisfaction, as unprofessional as that might be. He had never liked working with shifters. He took a deep breath, focussed all of his psychic energy into a single point in the middle of the hall, and then, with a sigh, let it loose.

* * *

Charlie was almost at the door when the teleporter appeared in front of him, blocking the way. Franticly he turned, almost falling as he ran for a window. To one side he saw the security guard standing in the hall between two collums, pistol raised.

"Freeze, both of you!"

He was about to spring through the window when he was it: a shining orb, about the size of a marble, flashing and spinning in the middle of the hall. He recognized a psionic bomb when he saw one, and he also knew that he would never get clear.

The teleporter saw it as well, and knew or at least guessed what it was. He glanced between the two; guard and robber, then made his choice. He teleported to the guard in a flash, grabbing him and then disappearing, dragging the guard away a second before the flashing orb expanded, blasting outwards in a million beams of energy. The Charlie's last words were an enraged scream, cursing his backstabbing partners to hell, along with whoever the bastard who had hired them was.

* * *

The sound of sirens echoed down the street as Jason Daniels reemerged into ordinary spacetime, clutching the body of the guard beneath him. He pushed himself up, then felt for a pulse. The guard was alive, but catatonic. Teleporting, at least his kind, had nasty effects for those who's minds and bodies weren't adapted to it. But he had recognized a psionic bomb about to go off, and had known he had no choice.

His mind flashed back to the shifter, to his panicked, enraged face as the two of them teleported out. He wondered if it would haunt him forever. He had been a full member of The White Shield for nearly two years, in training for three before that, but he had never seen a man killed in front of him. He doubted the shifter had gotten out. He had teleported to the edge of his range, almost a hundred feet, but flaming wreckage was still falling around him. The whole bank had gone up, and probably some nearby buildings as well. God, he hoped no one else had died.

He looked up again as a dozen cop cars pulled up around him, followed shortly by fire trucks and ambulances. A crowd was gathering. They were pointing, muttering. Like many Supers, he had learned to hate publicity. A cop grabbed him, pulled him roughly to his feet, and slammed him face first into the hood of a car. He could have struggled, but he didn't bother. It didn't stop the cop punching him in the back of the head. He blacked out for a moment, and when he woke up he was on his knees, throwing up on the pavement with blood in his eyes and his hands behind his back. He almost teleported out, but The White Shield didn't do things that way. They Council had enough problems without one of their agents resisting arrest. And since he had been found on top of an unconcious guard outside a blown up bank, he wasn't entirely sure he could blame them. Well, he could, but he had no choice but to play along until someone bailed him out and they could clear up this mess.

"Alright, that's enough. Let him up, and get him to a doctor. I don't want the suspect dying in custody, am I clear?" Clearly one of the higher-ranking cops, though Jason couldn't see him.

"Yes, Sir." The cop standing over him sounded disgruntled, but he pulled Jason to his feet and shoved him in a car.

"I'll have a doctor over here in a bit. Until then, you're to stay put. You try to run, you'll be shot down. Am I clear?" Jason nodded, perhaps too dazed to laugh at the thought of him going on foot if he decided to run, and the cop turned to leave, speaking to another officer as he did so.

"Watch him."

* * *

The man in the black cloak watched from the top of a nearby roof. Beside him the psionic Pulsar leaned weakly against the a wall. The black cloaked man saw the police grab the teleporter and shove him into a nearby car.

"Looks like our White Shield friend is taking the fall."

The man in the black cloak glanced at the woman with long black hair and cold blue eyes who had spoken. With any luck, she was right, but this wasn't the time to stand around. The cops would be swarming over here in a minute.

"Alright pack up; we're moving out."

The three headed back down the stairs towards the back of the building. As they walked, the black haired woman spoke again.

"Pity about Charlie."

The man in the black cloak shrugged.

"He was a good man but he knew the risks. Now, we split up. Rendezvous at the docks in eight hours."

"The boss won't be pleased." The black haired woman seemed to shiver slightly.

The man in the black cloak nodded. He wasn't looking forward to that meeting at all.

(OOC: in case any of you had difficulty following the above, some men in a black limo. went to a mob-run establishment and hired a mob boss to help Seacrest with its illegal smuggling operations. Later that night, a White Shield agent stopped a robbery attempt at bank conducted by a gang of Supers. He was arrested by bigoted/overzealous cops, one of the robbers was killed, and the other robbers (using their powers from a distance) withdrew. Feel free to jump in anywhere you want. I'm going to post my own character outlines now.)
Last edited by The Romulan Republic on Tue Jul 14, 2009 2:23 am, edited 2 times in total.
"Our progress in degeneracy appears to me to be pretty rapid. As a nation, we began by declaring that "all men are created equal." We now practically read it "all men are created equal, except negroes" When the Know-Nothings get control, it will read "all men are created equal, except negroes, and foreigners, and Catholics." When it comes to this I should prefer emigrating to some country where they make no pretence of loving liberty -- to Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy of hypocracy." - President Abraham Lincoln.

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The Romulan Republic
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Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby The Romulan Republic » Tue Jul 14, 2009 2:37 am

(OOC: bump.)
"Our progress in degeneracy appears to me to be pretty rapid. As a nation, we began by declaring that "all men are created equal." We now practically read it "all men are created equal, except negroes" When the Know-Nothings get control, it will read "all men are created equal, except negroes, and foreigners, and Catholics." When it comes to this I should prefer emigrating to some country where they make no pretence of loving liberty -- to Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy of hypocracy." - President Abraham Lincoln.

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Tybra
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Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby Tybra » Tue Jul 14, 2009 5:04 am

Blades clashed, shadows danced on a white wall. Flames rose around these two figures, one masked and silent, the other cloaked, their faces barely visible. As a silent film their voices mute. they were fighting on par, no at first perhaps, but beyond it the masked man was by far the better fencer.

"No no no! That was the past that man is no more."a voice said "he's dead, dead!"

"Dead" a cloaked man whispered, snapping out of it escaping from his memory. Dressed in a long black raincoat and head shadowing his head, even matching gloves. He continued through the door of the restaurant, perhaps one of the few Tybrian restaurants in Newport. A dark romantic setting little light but from the candle lights and some dim wall lights. Just the way he enjoyed it not to much light and not to little either. He couldn't stand the light but just a little he could bare, perhaps scars from his prison time or a weakness in any case always felt burning when bright light shone upon it.

"K-Khons, I've been waiting." A man said wearing a grey bureaucrat suit typical for a person like him, an high placed bureaucrat involved in politics always expressing strict neutrality. He stood up from a table in the corner in one of the more shaded areas of the room.

"Sit down" Khons replied "don't ever say my name in public like that, by the way how's your wife doing?" He knew very well how the man's wife was doing yet this was the punishment for this mere human for not obeying his rules.

"Still a drug addict, i hope you won't leak that out though" the bureaucrat replied.

"Naturally, i hold a strict confidentiality...a red wine and the house special please...as i said i'm not planning to betray your wife's a drug addict, it would mean your political suicide and i have no use for the useless. Now then do you have the...yes thank you...do you have the documents?" Khons said taking a sip of his now brought red wine.

"Yes here they are, some documents are sealed though even i couldn't get to them." the man said wiping some sweat of his forehead.

"I see this will do for now, however i must insist on obta.." Before Khons could finish a cellphone went off, the tune of the phantom of the opera playing.

"What is it? I see, yes i'll be there in a minute" Khons said into the phone then hung up "incompetent fools. I must leave now take care of the bill and the remaining documents for me will you?"

15 minutes later, Warehouse 12 Newport docks

Gunshots were heard, a police car's siren shone. A patrol on the dockside discovered a seacrest drug trafficking operation, but before they could act they were shot at, by small fire-arms. They had them trapped in the warehouse, if only they could hold out a bit more reinforcements would come.

"Damn them" the younger police officer thought firing back "instead of surrendering now they just keep firing."

"Perhaps they some idle hope of escaping, what the.." the older officer noticed something coming from the side. It was a car, no light were turned on and it approached fast. It suddenly slowed down and turned 90*. As it stopped a man stepped out, it was Khons wearing his black raincoat and hat.

"That light, i hate it, that ugly not gentle light." Khons said taking off his right hand glove. He stretched out his arm and hand as two metallic tiny balls appeared. The two balls suddenly collided against each other, emitting a small wave of kinetic energy aimed at the police light. With less then a small sound the light was destroyed.

"It's one of those Supers!" the younger officer replied automatically opening fire upon Khons. The bullets hit but all that was heard was a metallic cling

"what's going on" the older police officer shouted.

"Die" Khons said cold his hand now stretching out engulfed in the previous metallic-like material, or rather anti-matter. It suddenly stretched out like an octopus arm, piercing through the younger officers chest, responding to it. Soon there was nothing left from his chest, no blood, no organs, just nothing. The same happened with the older police officer except with his head, there was nothing left of it. Every piece of matter that was the police officers responded to the antimatter and simply vanished.

"Now hurry up, you lazy pieces of trash we only have so much time before the others come!" Khons screamed. "What an ugly city" Khons said to himself watching over the docks as the others prepared to leave.
Tybra Factbook

"The key to strategy... is not to choose a path to victory, but to choose so that all paths lead to a victory."
— Cavilo, The Vor Game

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Siberiak
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Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby Siberiak » Tue Jul 14, 2009 5:11 am

Two weeks ago, 11.00am

The Golden Hand is a four star restaurant on Torch Street, in the financial district of Valdirock in Siberiak. A man entered through the back door, he was tall and lanky, dressed in a brown suit, red tie, black loafers, and black leather gloves. His face and head were hidden by a brown fedora hat and a gas mask. Most of the staff who worked the front believed him to be an investor with breathing problem, which was sort of true, as he didn’t breathe at all. He walked up a flight of stairs to a corridor with a single door at the end which read ‘Manager’. Two bored looking men stood outside, and watching him as he approached the door.

“Morning Stubbs,” one the guards, “go right in, Sergei been expecting you.”

Stubbs pushed the door open and entered the room. A middle aged man sat at an oak desk reading a letter, he wore a black suit and had brown hair that was starting to grey. He looked up at Stubbs as he entered the room and motioned for him to close the door. “Take off your gas mask Stubbs,” Sergei’s voice was dry, “you know I don’t like talking to a mask.”

Stubbs took off his mask and hat, underneath them rotting green skin showed; the bones in his face were clearly visible. His mouth was distinctly divided into two, the lower part that had green rotten flesh on it, and the top that was a dull yellow of a skull. In other places patches of flesh had been worn away. His eyes were a golden yellow with black pupils that shone slightly. At his neck a small wound showed his vocal cords, which were a slickly brown colour. His hair was deep black and gelled back. Sergei was one of five people who could stand Stubbs’ face.

“You wanted to see me boss,” Stubbs voice came out sounding like a growl, if one looked closely enough they could see the vocal cords working as he spoke.
“Yes sit down,” Sergei said, motioning to a cushioned chair opposite him, “now you’ve worked for us for many years and you’ve done better than anyone expected. Your actions have caught the attention of some people high up in the company, so you’re being transferred to Newport City.”
“Who asked for the transfer?”
“I believe it to be someone important; this arrived just this morning through the company’s express mail.”
“When do I leave?”

Sergei pulled out a letter, “Today at 2.00pm, there is a ship that will take you all the way, all the papers you’ll need are in this envelope. I phoned an old friend of yours and told him the news, he’s sent you a farewell gift, and it’s waiting on the ship with all your stuff in it,” Sergei stood up and held out his hand, “take care, my friend.”

Stubbs stood up and shook Sergei’s hand, put his gas mask and hat on and left the room.

Present Day, 7.00am

The ship pulled into the harbour, Stubbs took a look at the city in the morning sun and lit a cigarette gave a quick puff and tossed it into the sea. A man was waiting on the dock as the crew came off. Stubbs came down the walkway, and walked over to him. The man greeted him, “You must be Mr Stubbwell. I’m Lennie; I’m supposed to take you to my boss.”
“Just call me Stubbs, you got a car?”
“Admittedly no, I lost my driving licence yesterday.”
“Well I’ve got a car, in fact it just coming down.”

A crane lifted a car on a wooden platform off the boat; it was a black saloon car, one of Siberiak’s newer models used by government officials and would cost the ordinary man a year to buy, Lennie whistled, “Nice car.”
“Thanks an old friend bought it for me,” said Stubbs, “just give me directions and I’ll drive.”
The two of them got in the car and pulled out of the docks and heading into the city.
Last edited by Siberiak on Wed Jul 15, 2009 9:56 am, edited 4 times in total.

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United Dependencies
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby United Dependencies » Tue Jul 14, 2009 11:33 am

ooc:who is the man with the gold ring? Is it me? because it can be if needed.
Alien Space Bats wrote:2012: The Year We Lost Contact (with Reality).

Cannot think of a name wrote:
Obamacult wrote:Maybe there is an economically sound and rational reason why there are no longer high paying jobs for qualified accountants, assembly line workers, glass blowers, blacksmiths, tanners, etc.

Maybe dragons took their jobs. Maybe unicorns only hid their jobs because unicorns are dicks. Maybe 'jobs' is only an illusion created by a drug addled infant pachyderm. Fuck dude, if we're in 'maybe' land, don't hold back.

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Are you a native or resident of North Carolina?

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The Romulan Republic
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Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby The Romulan Republic » Tue Jul 14, 2009 11:41 am

United Dependencies wrote:ooc:who is the man with the gold ring? Is it me? because it can be if needed.


Nope. He refers to his "employers," which would mean that if you're playing as Seacrest CEO, he's one of your lower-level corporate executives. But feel free to use the character any way you want.
"Our progress in degeneracy appears to me to be pretty rapid. As a nation, we began by declaring that "all men are created equal." We now practically read it "all men are created equal, except negroes" When the Know-Nothings get control, it will read "all men are created equal, except negroes, and foreigners, and Catholics." When it comes to this I should prefer emigrating to some country where they make no pretence of loving liberty -- to Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy of hypocracy." - President Abraham Lincoln.

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United Dependencies
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Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby United Dependencies » Tue Jul 14, 2009 12:47 pm

The man with the golden ring entered into a dark room that looked over an alley. The chair infront of him faced out the window and a voice began "so what news do you bring?". "Well sir we have just bought out some of our 'competition' near Marda." "Good,good" replied the man from the chair "have our men make sure we continues to expand in the area. How are is our legitimate front looking?" "As you already know Seacrest Shipping is already a major corporation and is fast on its way to becoming a monopoly. My major concern is the CEO he is getting more and more rebellious by the day. Not to mention that the White Shield has been chomping at the bit to try to proove that we are up to something." Their came a sigh from the chair and the man in it responded "very well I should have guessed that this would happen. What we need is a public relations thing. Find one of our supers and have them 'replace' our current CEO. As for the White Shield continue hiding our double existance. You are excused." As the man with the golden ring left the man behind the chair turned around his face still hidden in darkness. "Those fools everyone here is so concerned about money and business. Even the white shield thinks they are stopping lowly criminals. They will soon see that things are so much more complicated than that" he finished with an evil laugh.

ooc:my guy runs the whole thing from the backround nobody even knows of his existance except for a few. And if their is anyone on my side who is looking to become the legit ceo then they should contact my person.
Alien Space Bats wrote:2012: The Year We Lost Contact (with Reality).

Cannot think of a name wrote:
Obamacult wrote:Maybe there is an economically sound and rational reason why there are no longer high paying jobs for qualified accountants, assembly line workers, glass blowers, blacksmiths, tanners, etc.

Maybe dragons took their jobs. Maybe unicorns only hid their jobs because unicorns are dicks. Maybe 'jobs' is only an illusion created by a drug addled infant pachyderm. Fuck dude, if we're in 'maybe' land, don't hold back.

This is Nationstates we're here to help

Are you a native or resident of North Carolina?

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Alyxandreta
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Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby Alyxandreta » Tue Jul 14, 2009 2:26 pm

"I feel so ill"
"Take some medicine, you'll feel better soon"
"Tastes terrible, what is it "
"14 year old malt whisky, from the finest casks in the world, that should get rid of your ills"
"Yeah... and give me a hangover the size of Luna tomorrow"

Sleep.


The ship docked into Marda Harbour, the ocean waves had kept him up all night, his face drained of all colour, it didn't help the shots of whisky he was force fed during the night.

"All passengers please report to the Marda Immigration Bureau for interviews & to have documents seen to and approved"

There were many of them, people who were 'different' and not like the rest of the world, but this place was stuck in the past,slowly building its way up to first world standards.

"NAME?"
"Alexsandr Ryan"
"OCCUPATION?"
"None"
"REASONS FOR COMING TO MARDA?"
"I don't know, this tattoo I guess"
"AH! THAT'LL BE THE SEACREST BUILDING TOWARDS THE CENTER OF TOWN, YEAH MY COSUIN WORKS THERE, REAL NICE PLACE... ANYWAY YOU'RE FREE TO GO. WELCOME TO MARDA, YOU'RE NOW A FULLY FLEDGED CITIZEN OF THIS 'SPECIAL' NATION"

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Orinon
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Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby Orinon » Tue Jul 14, 2009 3:26 pm

Joshua ran.
It was all he knew now, running. Running from his past. Running from his pain. Running from his guilt.
And running from the people with guns, naturally.
So when he heard of Marda, he ran in that direction, hoping for a safe haven. It didn't occur to him that in order to start a new life, he would need that thing call 'money'.
Which is why he is now sleeping in a alleyway beside a building with the words Seacrest Shipping on the front.
Not that Josh cared. Names meant nothing to him these days.
I did some threads a long ass time ago that some people care about Iunno ya'll crazy.

Answers to Orinon or Watery. Part time author, part time gas station attendant, full time cynical bastard.

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United Dependencies
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby United Dependencies » Tue Jul 14, 2009 3:38 pm

The man with the golden ring stepped out of the main seacrest shipping building in Marda. beside the door was a vagrant who was sleeping. The man kicked him in the ribs and said to him "Oi what do you think you're doing sleeping here? Who are you and what do you want?"
Last edited by United Dependencies on Tue Jul 14, 2009 3:40 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Alien Space Bats wrote:2012: The Year We Lost Contact (with Reality).

Cannot think of a name wrote:
Obamacult wrote:Maybe there is an economically sound and rational reason why there are no longer high paying jobs for qualified accountants, assembly line workers, glass blowers, blacksmiths, tanners, etc.

Maybe dragons took their jobs. Maybe unicorns only hid their jobs because unicorns are dicks. Maybe 'jobs' is only an illusion created by a drug addled infant pachyderm. Fuck dude, if we're in 'maybe' land, don't hold back.

This is Nationstates we're here to help

Are you a native or resident of North Carolina?

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The Romulan Republic
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Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby The Romulan Republic » Tue Jul 14, 2009 3:50 pm

The White Shield Headquarters, Government Avenue and 14th St., Newport City:

George Waterson stretched and yawned as the light coming through the tall glass window and into the sitting room on the fifty second floor of the tall, palely gleaming glass building fell on his face. He shifted in his seat, sat up and rubbed his eyes. He had a pounding headache. He had been up all night poring over data on the latest results from the White Shield-funded Superhuman genetics research project, run out of one of The White Shield's laboratory complexes. He had fallen asleep. He had been dreaming. Something about running, and a growing pain in the back of his head, and then...

He had woken up. He yawned again and got to his feet. He glanced out the windows, the curtains left halfway open. It was early. Perhaps six AM. He paused. The glass was cracked. A few hundred yards away, black smoke billowed over the tops of the buildings.

"Oh Sh*t." He recognized what he had felt now, what had caused the pain in his head and most likely the dream as well. Someone had detonated a psionic bomb, and if it had caused the smoke, it had been exceptionally powerful. He went to across the carpeted room, opened a door in the wood-paneled walls, and entered his office. This room was smaller, and more modern, with metal walls and reinforced windows. He sat at his desk, activated the building's communications system, and made a call.

"Vera Smith and Henry Granger, will you please pick up?"

A moment passed, then a sharp female voice replied.

"George. What's going on? One of my agents just passed out down here in the middle of a training session."

"Let me guess Vera, a psionic?"

Before Vera could reply, Henry broke in as well.

"God, George, its six in the morning. You woke me up." George couldn't help smiling. His friend had always liked to sleep in.

"Yeah, sorry about that, but I just woke up with a splitting headache, and the first thing I noticed was the cracked glass on the fifty second floor and the smoke billowing up over the financial district. I think somebody set off a psionic bomb."

Their was a short silence, and then George said "its on as breaking news right now. An explosion went off and Mason and Son's bank, downtown." He paused again. "Preliminary reports suggest that a White Shield agent was involved."

"Damn." George rubbed his eyes. "Alright Henry, I want you to get your legal team into action. Vera, I want you to send one of your infilterators down their to check out the scene."

"What about the agent?"

"Do you know who's patrol route that is?"

"Let me check." A minute passed, then Vera was back on the line. "Its Jason Daniel's."

"Alright, Henry, get someone down to the police station. Find out where he's at, what's going on, and bale him out if nessissary. Make sure anyone they're holding has access to a lawyer. The cops haven't been exactly Super-friendly lately."

"Right away George." Their was a click as Henry hung up. Vera cut in again, her voice concerned.

"I warned you about Jason. The kid's too inexperienced."

George sighed.

"He's a good kid. And he passed your tests with flying colors."

"The ability to pass a test does not equate to skill in the field." George could just picture the look on her face.

"We'll talk about this later Vera. I'm heading down to the scene."

"I'll meet you their. Mirage out."

* * *

Twenty minutes later George got out of his car a couple blocks from the bank and began to walk. He was not in costumed, dressed instead in a brown long coat and hat. He had gone perhaps half a block when he reached the crowd, gathered in front of the police cordon that surrounded what was left of the bank. At least a dozen buildings were on fire or otherwise visibly damaged, and the bank was nothing but a few half-columns, the charred, rubble-littered front steps, and the various pieces of debris scattered around the smoking, burning crater in what had been the centre of the bank. He didn't see any ambulances, but three different fire crews were battling the blazes, and as he reached the barricades, another two pulled up. At least twenty police vehicles were also on the scene. Dozens of officers were keeping the crowd and the reporters back, while others questioned various people.

"Hello, George." He turned at the familiar voice, and saw a blond woman with pale skin standing beside him. Dark-haired, dark-skinned Vera was unrecognizable.

"Found out anything?"

She nodded.

"I posed as a reporter and asked a few questions. Apparently about thirty minutes ago the power cut out in the bank, or at least that's what a couple witnesses on the street said. A minute later their were gunshots. One man saw two men fighting inside. Just as the blast went off they say a man appeared in the middle of the street a couple blocks away, clutching an unconcious guard. No description, but it was probably Jason."

George sighed in relief.

"So he's alive?"

"Maybe, but whoever it was, the police took him into custody. They were quite rough by the sound of it. One man I overheard said the police gave "that freak a taste of what he deserved." The contempt in her voice was obvious.

George nodded.

"I'll inform Henry. Stick around and see what you can find out, but keep a low profile, ok?"

"Alright. Good luck George."

He nodded and headed back the way he had come. This was the last thing The White Shield needed. And yet, by the sound of what little Vera had heard, one of their agents and simply done his job, interfering in an attempted robbery that then got violent. He reflected that it was becoming more and more difficult for them to do their job, as while The White Shield's reputation had begun to improve somewhat after the major scandals a few years back, the public's view of Supers in general had continued to deteriorate, as terrorist actions against oppression by "Normals" had continued to escalate. Just a few weeks ago, the Council had been hired to investigate claims of illegal arms running by the infamous Seacrest Corporation into a minor country embroiled in civil war, and he had hoped that once again they would have a chance to make a positive impact, to build on his father's tarnished legacy. But now... this distraction was the last thing they needed.
Last edited by The Romulan Republic on Tue Jul 14, 2009 4:05 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Our progress in degeneracy appears to me to be pretty rapid. As a nation, we began by declaring that "all men are created equal." We now practically read it "all men are created equal, except negroes" When the Know-Nothings get control, it will read "all men are created equal, except negroes, and foreigners, and Catholics." When it comes to this I should prefer emigrating to some country where they make no pretence of loving liberty -- to Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy of hypocracy." - President Abraham Lincoln.

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Zirilrath
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Corporate Police State

Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby Zirilrath » Tue Jul 14, 2009 5:48 pm

Barryville, Maxtopia.
A man was walking down a darkly lit side street in one of the poorer areas of town, he was holding a large sports bag in his hand, and he somehow managed to look rather inconspicuous despite his size. He was dressed in a dark green bomber jacket and dull gray jeans, and to most people he would just look like a man on his way home after a workout. He soon reached his apparent destination, a small warehouse among the run down buildings here in the slums, and knocked heavily on the doors. For a few moments there was no reply, but then a small slit in the door opened and a gruff voice spoke from the inside, "Yeah? What do ya' want?" The large man raised the sports bag slightly, bringing it into view of the man inside, "I have a delivery for Mr.Jacobs," the man inside watched him for a few more seconds, and then opened the door to let him in.

There were at least a dozen people inside the dark room, most of them dressed in gang colors, and a few of them openly displaying weapons. A black man wearing an expensive-looking but obviously fake suit walked towards him. "You Donny's guy? Let me see the merchandise," the man was wearing a ridiculously large amount of jewelry, obviously trying to show off his wealth. "Yeah, sure," the large man opened the zipper on the bag and put it on a table, and the man with the fake suit move up to it and took from within it a white brick-like block, wrapped in plastic. After examining the block for a few moments he handed it to one of the others, who stabbed a knife into the block and smelled the white powder inside carefully. "It's pure, all right. As close to 100 percent as we'll ever see."

The man in the fake suit reached out to grab the sports bag, but the large man put his hand on it, "The payment, first, then you get the rest of the merchandise." The man in the fake suit gave him a small smile and said, "Yeah sure," he reached into his pocket, and quickly drew a gun, "MTPD! Down on the ground!" When he drew his gun so did the others in the room, all of them having been waiting for his signal. The large man simply smiled, "So, no deal then. Too bad," and closed up the sports bag, the cop in the fake suit seemed angrier now, "Get down on the ground, motherf*cker! Don't make me shoot you!"

The large man simply slung the bag over his shoulder, "I'm going to leave now, I suggest you don't get in my way." The cops behind him quickly formed a line between him and the door, still pointing their guns at him, the cop with the fake suit spoke again, "Don't get smart with me! Get down on the ground or we will kill you!" The large man simply sighed, "Very well, if that's the way you want it," and grabbed them cop's forearm, he then swung him in a wide arc, throwing him with great force into a wall. As the cop with the fake suit hits the wall a sickening crack can be heard, and then he flops to the ground like a dead fish, the large man charges at the cops between him and the door, plowing through them like they weren't even there, and then smashes his way through the door with equal ease. The cops were too shocked to fire at him, and he quickly ducks into a nearby alleyway and sneaks back to his drop location.

A man is waiting for him there, "So, where's the goddamn money!" he screams when he sees that the large man still has the sports bag, "It was a set up, they were cops." "Aw, crap! They must be on to me! You at least got the stuff back, right?" "Yes, all but one brick of it," the large man puts the bag on the ground. "Crap! You have any idea what just one of those things is worth? Still, you did a good job, here," the man reaches into his pocket and withdraws a small bundle of cash, giving it to the large man, who quickly counts it. "Ok, nice doing business with you," the two men then walk in different directions, the smaller man disappears into the shadows, and the large man walks through the alleyways until he reaches a dumpster. He throws it to the side and picks up a plastic bag that was lying under it, inside is a helmet, he removes his street clothes, revealing that he is wearing armor beneath them, and puts on the helmet. Have to get out of town, too much heat here now. Besides, the jobs are running dry, he thinks to himself as he heads towards the docks.

He pays for a cabin on a ship bound for Marda, under the fake name 'John Ranger', and looks at the town getting farther and farther into the distance, before disappearing completely. Then he goes to his rather small, noisy cabin and lies down on the cot, trying to get some rest.

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Orinon
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Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby Orinon » Tue Jul 14, 2009 11:00 pm

United Dependencies wrote:The man with the golden ring stepped out of the main seacrest shipping building in Marda. beside the door was a vagrant who was sleeping. The man kicked him in the ribs and said to him "Oi what do you think you're doing sleeping here? Who are you and what do you want?"


Joshua jolted awake when a foot impacted with his chest. Rolling away, he looked at the man who kicked him, and glared at him, before shaking his head to dispel the growing headache he had. He saw the man's mouth move, before realising that he was beening talked to. It took him a moment to find his voice.
"Your worst nightmare if you don't piss off, and I want to sleep,"he said.
Last edited by Orinon on Tue Jul 14, 2009 11:13 pm, edited 1 time in total.
I did some threads a long ass time ago that some people care about Iunno ya'll crazy.

Answers to Orinon or Watery. Part time author, part time gas station attendant, full time cynical bastard.

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Dentara
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Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby Dentara » Wed Jul 15, 2009 2:16 am

Alyssandra 'Alyx' May Patterson wandered aimlessly through a half-finished building, humming mindlessly with a small frown on her face. She was bored. For most people, this would be a problem of little consequence, and in Alyx's mind, it was the same - the difference was, when Alyx got bored, things happened. Usually, violent things.

Today was a good day, though - a good day for the people who could otherwise be in danger while she was bored, that is. Her eyes settled on the central support girder that supported the unfinished structure in lieu of a soon-to-be-installed concrete pillar, and she grinned as she raised her hands, now glowing with the energies they prepared to unleash. A moment later, the entire scene was illuminated with the intensity of a small sun as two beams of intense flame erupted from her hands, washing over the girder in an almost-hypnotic dance of heat, flame and glowing metal. As the girder softened, the flaming beams began to re-shape it as Alyx played, changing its shape at her rapidly-changing whim. She smiled a deceptively innocent smile as she molded the near-molten metal.

Then, she frowned again, and said two words; "Bored now." Instantly, the beams of flame tripled in intensity, causing the metal to instantly liquidate and run freely. Rivulets of molten metal ran across the wooden floor, causing spot-fires to erupt as they rapidly ate through the flammable material and dripped deeper into the building. Soon, the girder was little more than a large puddle of molten metal, rapidly sinking through the wooden floor and causing numerous fires to break out, even as the building around her began to shudder and groan as, denied its primary support, it began to collapse upon itself in a rapidly-intensifying cacophony of shrieking metal and splintering wood. Deciding, at that point, to go, Alyx turned and erupted from the wooden floor, her hands and feet emitting flaming lances as they propelled her up onto the roof of another, higher, building. Turning to watch the collapsing building, Alyx smiled again, watching as the building finished its flaming collapse, falling abruptly to one side and smashing into an adjacent building. In less than a minute, the intensifying inferno that was the construction site ignited the next building, and Alyx laughed and clapped as the flames danced merrily, spreading on all sides, oblivious - or uncaring - of the danger it posed to the innocents now running from the ignited building.

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Siberiak
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Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby Siberiak » Wed Jul 15, 2009 3:23 am

7.15am

The black saloon car pulled into a scrap yard near the docks. They drove to the centre of the scrap yard through a maze of rusting metal. They pulled up by next to a large concrete building, and got out. Stubbs pressed two buttons on his keys, one locked the car and the other activated a small defensive mechanism. They walked inside and saw a man in blue overalls removing the engine from a car.
“Hey Joey,”shouted Lennie, “you seen the boss?”
“Yeah, Victor’s in the office,”
Joey turned around and looked at Stubbs, “so you’re the guy Victor’s boss ordered. No offense, but I thought people from your country looked scary.”
Stubbs walked up to him and lifted the gas mask up slightly; Joey reeled back and said nervously, “Ah, so there’s the scare. I’ll get back to work now.” He scampered off.

Lennie led Stubbs to a door at the far end of the workshop and opened it. A man with black oily hair sat at a small wooden desk, the room was quite bare expect for the desk, two chairs, a lamp and several photographs on the wall. A small window looked out at the scrap yard. The man was looking at several sheet of paper and glared at Lennie with a face that seemed permanently red.
“Lennie!” the man shouted, “how many bloody times to I have to tell you, knock and wait to be called in.” The man noticed Stubbs sating behind Lennie. “So you’re the guy who just got off the boat, come in.”
Stubbs turned to Lennie, “watch the car for me, and don’t touch it.” Lennie shut the door, and walked out of the building.

“Sorry about Lennie, he’s new and he still got to learn the way of the organisation. Want a Drink?” Victor said offered a glass of scotch.
“I never turn down a drink,” said Stubbs, he took the glass and removed the mask. Victor cringed as he saw the face of Stubbs, as he gulped the glass down quickly.
“Mind if I smoke?” asked Stubbs.
“Sure, you got an extra one? I think Joey keeps nicking mine.”
Stubbs gave Victor one of his cigarettes and pulled out a sliver lighter where on both sides there was a picture of a skull.
“So Stubbs, you’re new, but the boss wants something done,” Victor pulled out a photograph, “this is the current CEO of the ligament side of the business. For the last year he has been getting more and more out of tune with our ideas. So the boss is going to fire him, and you’re going to deliver the message to him personally, and make it go quietly, I hate to see the press have a reason to look at the details of the corporation. Pay is 10,000 marks”
Stubbs nodded and got up, but Victor motioned for him to stay. He opened a draw and took out a set of key. “The keys to your apartment, it’s on 25 Butcher’s Road, apartment 4B.” Stubbs took the keys and walked out of the room.

He rounded the corner and saw that Lennie was clutching his hand.
“You touched the car didn’t you?”
“You didn’t tell me they were 5,000 volts running through it.”
“It’s the only way to stop people from stealing it.”
“Ah man and I got a date tonight.”
“What’s her name?”
“Mary Granger, she workes at for the police as one of those desk job people, but she's mainly making coffee for the cops. Her dad is an ex-cop apparently, I guess she followed in her father's footsteps, not what she was expecting I think. We’ve been going out for about a month.”
“Here,”
Stubbs handed Lennie a 100 mark bill, “get her something nice. Though I’m curious about what she sees in you”
Last edited by Siberiak on Wed Jul 15, 2009 9:56 am, edited 2 times in total.

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The Romulan Republic
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Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby The Romulan Republic » Wed Jul 15, 2009 12:24 pm

(OOC:

Siberiak wrote:“Mary Granger, she workes at for the police as one of those desk job people, but she's mainly making coffee for the cops. Her dad is an ex-cop apparently, I guess she followed in her father's footsteps, not what she was expecting I think. We’ve been going out for about a month.”
“Here,”[/i] Stubbs handed Lennie a 100 mark bill, “get her something nice. Though I’m curious about what she sees in you”


Is this a reference to my character's daughter? No problem either way, I'm just checking to be sure.)
"Our progress in degeneracy appears to me to be pretty rapid. As a nation, we began by declaring that "all men are created equal." We now practically read it "all men are created equal, except negroes" When the Know-Nothings get control, it will read "all men are created equal, except negroes, and foreigners, and Catholics." When it comes to this I should prefer emigrating to some country where they make no pretence of loving liberty -- to Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy of hypocracy." - President Abraham Lincoln.

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Alyxandreta
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Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby Alyxandreta » Wed Jul 15, 2009 12:36 pm

"Spare some change sir?" a beggar asked Alexsandr, scratching at his tattoo, it was fresh so he knew it was a recent acquisition but not one he had done willingly, his short term memory was fuzzy.

"Sorry, aint got no change to give you" Alexsandr replied, his hands deep in his pockets

"What about that fifty in your wallet?" the beggar remarked, a smug look on his face that didn't suit his rough outdoor homeless look that he had obviously maintained down to a stereotypical tee.

"How did you... wait a minute... telepath right?" Alexsandr replied, for a moment thinking his wallet was on show.

"Got it on sonny, and if you wanna know where the Seacrest building is, well... look to your left and that giant hulk of steel and glass is Seacrest Corp HQ. Pretty big isn't it, now lemme ask you Alexsandr, why are you here, it's cause of that tattoo I'll bet?" the beggar responded once more, looking deep into Alexsandr's eyes, probing his soul for answers

"Maybe but lemme ask you this, when they fired you from Seacrest, why didn't you go public with what you knew?" Ryan smirkingly replied, the look on the beggar's face was of utter and sheer disbelief

"How did you know that... you're a telepath? ARE YOU ONE OF THEM?" the beggar replied cautiously.

"Nope... mimic. or at least that's what they told me. Look old man, how about I get you some lunch, we could both use it"

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Siberiak
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Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby Siberiak » Wed Jul 15, 2009 1:25 pm

The Romulan Republic wrote:(OOC:

Siberiak wrote:“Mary Granger, she workes at for the police as one of those desk job people, but she's mainly making coffee for the cops. Her dad is an ex-cop apparently, I guess she followed in her father's footsteps, not what she was expecting I think. We’ve been going out for about a month.”
“Here,”[/i] Stubbs handed Lennie a 100 mark bill, “get her something nice. Though I’m curious about what she sees in you”


Is this a reference to my character's daughter? No problem either way, I'm just checking to be sure.)


OCC: Yes

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Skandar (Ancient)
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Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby Skandar (Ancient) » Wed Jul 15, 2009 3:39 pm

The Blue Swan was a café-bistro a few streets away from the heart of Newport's Financial District. It wasn't the best restaurant, but the food was more than decent and the building looked good enough that low level employees of large companies could look impressive to clients for a reasonable price. However, John and Alex weren't in The Blue Swan to look impressive; they were having breakfast.

The waited came to their table and recited the specials. This always happened, but no matter what was offered, neither John or Alex ever had them. "Mushroom omelette on the grilled baguette," John said without looking up from his newspaper.

"Two fired eggs, three sausages, an order of bacon, rye toast, and coffee. Two sugars and cream ," Alex told the waiter. When he left, Alex said, "We really should try some of the other restaurants. Life shouldn't be lived on a budget."

"When you actually pay the bill, you can decide where we eat. Besides, if I come here enough, I might get a discount. Favored customer and all that." John put down his paper. "Where would you rather eat?"

"I don't know. I just want some excitement. Even if that excitement is a new place to get breakfast."

"You should stop eating meat so often. It's bad for you."

"You should be out in the sun more. It's good for you." Alex ignored the mumbled reply and looked out the window. There was an attractive woman going towards a car. An expensive car from the way it looked. A man, possibly a bodyguard opened the door for her and took her bags.

"She's married and a gold digger. He's seventy-eight, restaurateur surprisingly. He think she's in love with him, she's reasonably happy. He has a heart condition, probably going to die in three years leaving her a rich widow. No kids.," John said as he picked his paper up again.

"You're annoying when you do that."

"Do you want to know her credit card number and personal information? Perhaps identity theft makes her swoon." John paused for a moment. "It doesn't. Large houses and sports cars do."

Were Alex a stupider, more aggressive individual, not indebted to the man across from him, and not friends with the aforementioned person, he would have rearranged John's limbs. Instead, he remembered that he would be on the ground getting his memories ripped out of him before he could even lay a finger on John and decided that it wasn't worth it.

The food came a few minutes later and the pair ate. They talked about trivial matters and a bit about business. They were going to go back to the Seacrest building and contact the man with the gold ring. They wanted the reward that they were promised, and perhaps another job. The man was a low level executive, but if they stuck by him, he might get promoted and they might become very rich men.

After eating, John paid the bill and left a tip. The pair left the restaurant and started back to Seacrest building. Then they both realized that none of them knew the name of the man they were looking for. It was always an adventure with the two of them. A half-assed, 'lucky to make it through' adventure. It was a wonder that they managed to make it through life half the time.

Edit: OOC-I assumed that my two characters were the enforcers from the intro.
Last edited by Skandar (Ancient) on Wed Jul 15, 2009 6:12 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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The Romulan Republic
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Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby The Romulan Republic » Wed Jul 15, 2009 6:12 pm

(OOC:
Skandar wrote:Edit: OOC-I assumed that my two characters were the enforcers from the intro.


I actually didn't intend it that way, but if that works for you, great.)
"Our progress in degeneracy appears to me to be pretty rapid. As a nation, we began by declaring that "all men are created equal." We now practically read it "all men are created equal, except negroes" When the Know-Nothings get control, it will read "all men are created equal, except negroes, and foreigners, and Catholics." When it comes to this I should prefer emigrating to some country where they make no pretence of loving liberty -- to Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy of hypocracy." - President Abraham Lincoln.

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Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby Antemyst » Wed Jul 15, 2009 6:56 pm

A highway in Antemyst.

"Get out of my way, damnit!!!"

The truck driver checked his rearview mirror. There was no one behind him. A car was headed in the opposite direction in the distance. Where had that shout come from?

The answer landed a few yards ahead of him. The motorcyclist that had been on his tail for the past five miles had launched himself up some sort of ramp on the side of the road, flown over him, and landed on the bike's back wheel, momentarily popping a wheelie. But the motorcyclist lost control, and the bike lost its balance and fell to the asphalt, dragging its rider along with it.

"Holy mother of God." The truck driver slammed on his brakes, but he wasn't fast enough to avoid running over the motorcyclist. The 18-wheeler eventually came to a stop, and the truck driver got out and ran to the motorcyclist. The biker, having just been dragged on asphalt and run over by nine tires, was getting up, dusting himself off.

"What the hell were you trying to pull? Are you okay?" The truck driver realized as he approached that the motorcyclist was actually a woman- and a very good-looking one.

"You know that long pedal?" the woman asked sharply, shoving her arm back into its socket. "You push it down with your foot. It makes you go faster."

"Whatever." The truck driver turned to leave.

"Hey!" The woman stood up, brushing her short brown hair out of her face. "You're gonna pay for the damage to my bike!"

"The hell I am! You're the idiot that flew over me!"

She scoffed, "Or I can call your company and complain. 'How's my driving'? It sucks."

The truck driver grinned. "Well, if I pay for the bike, I'm gonna need your phone number, you know, to keep in touch."

She rolled her eyes and climbed into the front seat of the truck. "Dirty bastard."

"Yo, what are you doing? That's my rig!"

She started the truck and took off, leaving the truck driver with nothing but a ruined bike and a setting sun in the wilderness of Antemyst.



"You're late, Tanya." Ms. Islepsi was rushing about the kitchen. "You knew I needed you to watch your siblings tonight."

"Sorry, Mama," Tanya said sarcastically. "I'll try not to get hit by a truck next time."

Ms. Islepsi took a double take. Tanya had completely healed by now; the only sign that something was amiss was that her clothes were tattered and burned. "Again, Tanya? You're strong, but not quite invincible. You're gonna get yourself killed one day."

"Why do you think I got a job as a stuntwoman?"

The older woman sighed. "Go tend to the kids."

There were six Islepsi children in all, and none of them had the same father. The youngest was two years old; the oldest, after Tanya, was sixteen. "Where have you been," he said. It wasn't a question; he knew where his sister had been.

"Nunya. It's bedtime, so help me tuck these cats in."

The primetime news was mentioning something about a bank robbery on Marda, the island with all the Supers. "There go your heroes, Tanya," her brother taunted. "Looks like one of 'em robbed a bank."

"They're not my heroes," Tanya shot back, though for a long time she had wished she could be part of the White Shield, where she could be actually doing something worthwhile for Supers like her, while living somewhere away from her "family," and maybe meeting someone new.

The kids were all in bed before Ms. Islepsi left for work. That was her custom, given her line of work. Tanya always thought she'd get used to it, but every night, she found herself repulsed by what her mother wore.

"Take care of your siblings for me. I'll be back," she said, leaning in to kiss Tanya's cheek.

Tanya shied away from the kiss. She had a good idea of where those lips would be later.




Tanya couldn't sleep. After tossing and turning for hours, she got up and went outside. The air was cool and slightly salty. It seemed like a good night to start an adventure.

Tanya ran back inside and put on a black halter top, blue jeans, and a blue denim jacket. Then she stuffed a few necessities into a black bookbag and left.

She knew that at the Port of Qumenee, ships bound for Marda left every hour, on the hour. That is where she wound up- after carefully avoiding her mother's street corner.

Across the street from the dock, she saw a beautiful Warlock X-3700 motorbike. Her love for all things vehicular took over. With little consideration for who saw her, she hot-wired the bike quite easily and rode it on to the ship.

She parked her newly acquired motorbike at the bow. The ship was sparsely populated- usually, Supers went from Marda to Antemyst, not the other way around. But no one looked askance at her or her bike; she leaned her back against the Warlock and watched the dark sea roll impatiently, until the rocking of the boat lulled her to sleep.

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The Romulan Republic
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Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby The Romulan Republic » Wed Jul 15, 2009 8:04 pm

(OOC: the bank explosion was in a mainland city that's the nearest port to Marda. Don't worry about it now though.)

Teresa Martins sat quiet in a corner at the back of the ferry. She wrapped her coat tighter around her as the cold evening wind whipped at her face, watching the grey, orange-tinted waters role by. The Sun had sunk beneath the horizon, and the last light was fading as she waited. When she was sure their were no other passengers or crew nearby, she got up and walked over to stand beside the woman with the bike, who now appeared to be asleep.

"Hi their." She paused for a moment, uncertain, then decided to forge ahead. She'd never make it as a White Shield Superhero if she didn't grow a spine.

"I saw you steal the bike. I'm placing you under citizen's arrest until we reach Marda, where I will turn you over to Customs. Don't try to resist." God, she sounded pathetic, her voice shaking audibly to her ears. The woman beside her looked like she could handle herself in a fight, so she stayed alert, ready to use her powers if worst came to worst, and hoped this hadn't been a huge mistake.
"Our progress in degeneracy appears to me to be pretty rapid. As a nation, we began by declaring that "all men are created equal." We now practically read it "all men are created equal, except negroes" When the Know-Nothings get control, it will read "all men are created equal, except negroes, and foreigners, and Catholics." When it comes to this I should prefer emigrating to some country where they make no pretence of loving liberty -- to Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy of hypocracy." - President Abraham Lincoln.

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Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby The Romulan Republic » Wed Jul 15, 2009 9:43 pm

Henry Granger had reached the police station at seven in the morning. Most of the officers on duty greeted him with ugly looks; The White Shield's chief attourney had spearheaded a number of cases against police corruption, and more than a few saw it as a conflict of interest given his own expulsion from the Force. However, Lieutenant James Carson greeted his former partner with a weary smile and a warm handshake.

"Hello Harry. I thought I'd see you down here this morning. I suppose you're here for the kid?"

"Cut to the chase, Jimmy. Why are you still holding him?"

"Officially, its for questioning. They haven't gone so far as to call him a suspect, but if they can't find anyone else to charge..." His voice trailed off, accompanied by a shrug.

Henry nodded.

"Can I see him?"

Jimmy shook his head.

"Sorry Harry. Wish I could, but the Commander was clear about no one seeing him until he'd been questioned."

"I'm his f*****g lawyer, Lt. Last I checked, you were one of the good cops. Now, let me see him."

Jimmy sighed.

"Ok, but the Commander will have my head for this." He smiled ruefully. "Somehow, when you went off to become one of those damn heros I didn't quite picture this. I guess people don't associate crack lawyers with hoods and capes."

From most men, the reference to "hoods and capes" would have offended Henry, but Jimmy was an old friend. Besides, he had been kind of a jackass this morning.

"Look, just take me to see him."

With another sigh, Jimmy lead him down a hall. Heavy doors with small windows opened into interrogation rooms. As they reached the third door on the left, the Commander stepped out and blocked their path.

"Sorry, no one can see the suspect right now. Carson, I told you..." Henry cut him off.

"I am his attourney and if you don't let me in, I will be filing a law suit for the violation of this man's rights under the Constitution and the Charter for Superhuman Rights."

For a moment the Commander looked like he was going to argue, then reluctantly stepped aside and opened the door. Henry saw him glaring at Jimmy as he walked into the room. Poor guy was going to get hell from his boss over this.

He winced as he saw Jason Daniel's face in the mirror. His left eye was surrounded by a swelling black bruise, and dried blood caked his forehead. He glared pointedly at the detective in the seat across from Jason.

"Get out of here. I want to talk to my client. Alone."

The detective glanced at the Commander, then, seeing no open support, got angrily to his feet and walked out, making sure to shoulder Henry roughly aside on the way out. Henry controlled his anger. Let the man posture, so long as he respected attourney-client privilege. He sat down across from Jason and looked him in the face.

"You ok, kid?"

"Yeah," Jason mumbled wearily. "Thanks." He smiled bitterly and jabbed his forehead, winced. "Makes you wonder if its worth it sometimes." He laughed. "Mirage will chew me out over this. She always said I was too green to work alone."

Henry sighed.

"We can talk about that later.

Listen, you need to tell me exactly what went down at the bank. Our agents are investigating right now, but I want the first hand account. Or do you need to see a doctor first?" He paused as his cellphone rang.

"Hello, Henry Granger here. This isn't really a good time..." he stopped as his daughter's voice came over the line.

"Sorry dad. I just called to see if you were ok. It was on the news this morning, they said a bomb went off downtown, near the HQ, and I thought maybe..." She sounded worried. In any case, he couldn't just hang up on her.

"Listen Mary, I'm fine, but I'm dealing with a client right now. Sure, we can talk about it later. Yes, I'm completely fine. Thanks for calling. Hope your date goes well tonight."

He felt kind of bad about hanging up so quickly, but he told himself it was unavoidable. He supposed she would understand. She was both patient and forgiving, and while her mother had divorced him when he lost his job for being an unregistered Super, she had never acted differently towards him. He was very proud of her, if disappointed that she had not yet achieved the life she deserved. He was just grateful that she had never manifested powers herself. She deserved better than the life of fear and persecution that was the standard for a Super.

"Alright, Jason, we'll take it from the top. I want every detail that could help us clear this all up."
Last edited by The Romulan Republic on Wed Jul 15, 2009 10:19 pm, edited 2 times in total.
"Our progress in degeneracy appears to me to be pretty rapid. As a nation, we began by declaring that "all men are created equal." We now practically read it "all men are created equal, except negroes" When the Know-Nothings get control, it will read "all men are created equal, except negroes, and foreigners, and Catholics." When it comes to this I should prefer emigrating to some country where they make no pretence of loving liberty -- to Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy of hypocracy." - President Abraham Lincoln.

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Avenio
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Re: Superhero World RP IC thread (please read OOC thread first)

Postby Avenio » Wed Jul 15, 2009 11:15 pm

I apologize for not posting my intro, the Internet in my entire region (around 20 00 people) has been cutting in and out for the last couple days, making it extremely difficult to post anything longer than a few sentences. The tech support person I spoke to said that it would be up again tomorrow hopefully, at which point I'll be able to post again.

My apologies once again.

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