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MuseMart » Tag: futuristic - Recent Topics http://www.musemart.com/ MuseMart » Tag: futuristic - Recent Topics en Thu, 09 Sep 2010 19:10:34 +0000 Audrey on "Cooperative Story" http://www.musemart.com/topic/cooperative-story#post-32 Wed, 27 Jun 2007 12:20:20 +0000 Audrey 32@http://www.musemart.com/ Originally started by Lady of the Winds And here we go.... ****** â€œWell it has been eight years dad, and not much in life has changed,â€ Rishbeth said. â€œJoey is still a little pain, but he is almost as tall as I am now. We both do what we can to help the gypsies. However, we still have a hard time trying to stay alive ourselves. We do odd jobs for some of the locals, not all of whom are nice, but hey, its credits and we have to live,â€ Rishbeth paused for a second, then looked down at an unmarked grave. â€œSorry we still havenâ€™t gotten you a proper headstone yet, but like I said, things have been a little tight lately.â€ Rishbeth looked up at her surroundings to make sure she was still alone. This was an unused section of what was once a great cemetery, no one could remember its name anymore. Though her father had not been part of any military unit, it was the only graveyard that had not been completely desecrated. Gangs, homeless, or those who just wanted to make a profit had all but evicted the ones that had lain to rest in this place. Not that Rish was at all religious, she just thought that the dead should be respected. The Cemetery had been half dug up to provide housing for those who could not afford it else where, but as usual the cheep housing had become a cesspool for gangs. It took a lot out of a person to actually survive out here. The small tree that she used as a marker for her fathers grave swayed lightly in the breezes, but beyond that she saw no one, just some of the few remaining headstones from those who had served this once great nation. And beyond those few headstones rose what was now what the cemetery had become, a dirty, polluted place where everyone seemed half starved, eager for work, or just wanting to get out of this dump. Comparatively, Rish and Joey had it easy, they did what they could to help the gypsies, who in turn helped them as much as they could. When they could not help the gypsies however, Rish and Joey were willing to do menial labor to help their neighbors, who usually fed them by way of payment. Those who could afford to actually pay them did so, but they were asking the brother and sister to do more than just menial labor. Looking back down at the grave she said, â€œWell, Joey and I have a job to do so I think I had better go meet up with him now. Donâ€™t worry about us dad, we can take care of ourselves. After you died, we had some tough education inâ€¦ self-defense shall we say? Remember we love you dad.â€ After saying that, Rish turned and walked away towards the apartment she shared with her 18 year old brother. She wished she could talk Joey out of doing the job with her, but he would stick by her side no matter what she said. It was a bloody business, but hey, credits were credits, they had learned that the hard way. * * * * Joey looked out the window, thinking, as he waited for Rish to return to the apartment. The weather was starting to darken, a sure sign of more rain to come. That would not be bad, more cover for them to do their job. He looked down at his weapon of choice he was cleaning, a thin double edged dagger. It was plain, except for a small blue stone in the hilt, right where his palm would rest. Rishâ€™s throwing darts, etched with dragons, were lying on the table next to him, waiting for her return. The brother and sister used other weapons too; they even had a couple of guns, which was unusual because they were usually restricted to those who were responsible for the â€œpeacekeepingâ€ of the Savanov district. Well, in a sense Rish and I are peacekeepers, thought Joey. Their lives had not been easy since their father died. Only God, or whatever almighty being was out there, knew what had happened to their mother, she had left them all when Rishbeth and Joey were too small to remember her. Then their father died when Joey was 10, he did not remember him has well as Rish did. She had been 14. The three of them had gotten along pretty well without Mother. Father sheltered them and brought home food, not to mention the kindness of the gypsies. The gypsies, Joey thought, they had tried everything to get dad to quit smoking, but he just wouldnâ€™t listen. When the old man had finally died, it was because he lost the battle against lung cancer. Just then, Rish entered their apartment. She had a thoughtful look on her face. She has been to dadâ€™s grave again, Joey thought. Joey kept cleaning is dagger as Rish started to pick up her weapons, giving her her peace. When she was done storing her darts in various places (winding it in her hair, up sleeves and in boots), he sheathed his dagger at the small of his back. The silence stretched. It always did just before a job. â€œReady?â€ Rish asked. Joey knew that she wanted him to stay here. To keep him safe, however that was why he wanted to go with her. To keep her safe. â€œYeah. Let us do this. Andâ€¦ on the way home could we stop to pick up some food?â€ Rish looked at Joey in a mildly disgusted way. â€œYouâ€™re thinking of food right now? Ick. But yeah, we will get something hot to eat tonight.â€ She turned and walked out the door to rendezvous with the job. Joey followed her out a little more slowly. He would follow her but was not to have any actual contact with the job. He was back-up if something in her plans went wrong. He hoped that nothing would go wrong this time and closed the door behind him. Vallaria Re: Cooperative Story Â« Reply #1 on: 15 August 2006, 22:01:28 Â» (Note: I'm going to cheat here and put up my old post, Gaite- because I still had it saved, I REALLY liked it, and I think I'd like to continue with the characters.) The dirty flowered fabric of an ancient bedsheet twisted and shuddered in the sudden breeze, allowing a thin finger of dim light to enter the room. It traced its way over takeout boxes, weeks old. Ruined carpet, completely bald in more places than it held. It finally found a mattress. Shoved into the back of the room against a wall, the mattress sagged into the floor without a frame to support it. Sheets formed a terrain of hills and valleys, conforming to Mir's body. There they stuck. One of the daily afternoon rain squalls had just hit, though it did nothing to break the heat. It was over 95, and the air may as well have been water. No one but the city or the fabulously wealthy could afford enough electricity for air conditioning anymore. The sound of the sudden downpour filtered through the open window. Permanantly open- she'd broken it with a chair sometime. She couldn't remember when. There were shrieks of feigned surprise from those who had given up carrying an umbrella years ago, and the smell and sound of cooking Chinese food from the noodle shop downstairs. Rain was good for Mama Chun's business. Mir tried to shut it out. She lied curled on her side, face to the wall. She didn't want to hear anything anymore. For nearly two weeks, she hadn't. She'd had the rest of his dermals, and she'd put them on her neck, one at a time, hoping they'd dull mental as well as physical pain. For a while, they had. But she'd run out last night. Now her hands shook when she bothered to lift them from the mattress, and all she had was a lot of empty wrappers, staring back at her. She knew it wouldn't be long before someone, probably Kitch, came to check on her. She doubted somehow that he would help her find more dermals, though she knew he could. Maybe she wouldn't answer the door and hope he'd forgotten the passcodes. Maybe she'd never move again. The hollow feeling in her had become familiar, something close to comfortable. She imagined that this was what he'd felt like, lying here. She turned her face to the window, lank black curls sticking to her skin. She should have tried to find a frame for the bed. Should have worked harder so he could have died in a bed with a view. Or never died at all. Mir felt tears welling up in her throat again, impossible tears. She couldn't have anything left in her to cry with. There wasn't anything left. He was gone. God, Knol. God damn. There weren't any tears left, but her chest heaved with sobs anyway. She stared at the stains and peeling plaster of the ceiling, wanting to tear it down, destroy the entire apartment, every shred of his existance. She had known this was coming, for months and months. They'd ignored it so long. So well. "Knol." She breathed it. Her lips were dry and cracked, and the single word hurt more than anything had in days. She closed her eyes and got lost in the low light behind them. ------------- "Mirage?" Kitch pounded on the door again. "Mir, honey, answer the door." He rested his forehead against the scratched and dented metal. "Shut the hell UP! Christ!" A dark skinned man stuck his head out a door down at the end of the hall to glare at him. The light down at that end of the hall flickered and went out, obscuring the man from view and relieving Kitch of having to pretend he cared. "Shit," he swore softly under his breath. Finally, he dug out his portable. He punched a few numbers. The tiny com speaker implanted in his ear chimed softly as his portable attempted to connect. He stuffed it back in his jacket pocket. "What?" He felt as much as heard Lapis' low voice buzz in his ear. She sounded like she'd been through one of the Trials. "It's 5 AM and I just got off the shift from hell. This better be good, Kit." He kept his voice down, knowing that the mic in his lip ring would pick up every word clearly. "Knol's passcode. What is it?" There was silence on the other end of the line. "Don't you mean was it?" Lapis finally snorted. "Damn. You can't help being a bitch, can you? Just give me the code." "2083XJ. Wait for the orange light, then enter his birthday. Now leave me the hell alone." A tone sounded in his ear, indicating that the connection had been cut. Kitch sighed and stared at the door a minute longer before punching in the code. He waited for the light to cycle through 5 or 6 colors before seeing the orange, and punched in the date she'd instructed. A soft click and a green light indicated that the door was open. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open. She better not be dead too. His footsteps echoed in the nearly empty hall that led into the single room. He touched the glowpanel, but it wasn't working. Didn't surprise him. He bypassed the bathroom, which was dark, and entered the studio, which was only marginally brighter, lit by a pulsing neon banner outside. The first thing he noticed was the smell. Old food, sweat. Kitch hadn't been here in over a month. Business had kept him away from the Rawl- now he wished it hadn't. When Mama Chun had mentioned what happened, he'd come up right away. His light blue eyes narrowed as he surveyed the room, eyes ending on the lone figure crumpled on the mattress. When he saw the wrappers scattered around her, his eyes widened. His footsteps quickened until he was kneeling beside the bed. He brushed her dark, short curls out of her face, holding her cheeks in his hands. They were still warm- but in this heat, that wasn't surprising. The red street light glinted off the metal cheek tattoos she'd gotten- a spiral pattern from old Europe she'd taken months to pick out. "Com'on, Mirage, open your eyes." He swallowed hard. "Mir." He reached down and gently stripped two peeling patches off her neck, noting the swelling in that area. She had probably ODed on the painkillers, or come close. Demarol. Christ. Her light brown eyes finally flinched open, and she jerked back from him reflexively. "Mir," he said again. Relief filled his voice. He didn't speak again as he got her water a little water to drink. In the heat, it was a wonder dehydration alone hadn't killed her. He stripped the mattress of it's sheets, and sponged her down, ignoring her weak protest. He tossed the old food and containers out the window into a dumpster below, and pulled the ripped sheet serving as a curtain back from the window. A morning thundershower was building. "Go." The word startled him, because it was strong, firm. Sounded like Mir. He turned from the window to look at her, lying on the mattress still, face to the wall. Her head turned deliberately towards him, her eyes wide and blank. "I don't think I better, honey." "Get the FUCK OUT." She screamed it, and for a moment, Kitch saw his friend in her eyes. He nodded slightly. "Mama's bringing up noodles tonight." His shock boots clunked hollowly on the broken tiles in the hallway as he left. The door clicked shut, and Mir was alone in the apartment again, with nothing but the sound of the Rawl winding down for the night. Kitch made his way down the nearly pitch black stairwell back to Mama Chun's. He would come back later. Kitch weaved past the Freaks guarding the living entrance to Mama Chun's building. Some Cult of the Righteous morons, out to save him and everyone else. As he looked around the immediate neighborhood of Rosslyn Station, Kitch reflected that there wasn't a whole hell of a lot left to save. The once major arteries of the city, lined with high rise apartment buildings and stores, had become overbuilt and overgrown. The structures had grown and pushed their way in until the once wide boulevards had become one lane roads, clogged with bikers, pedestrians, and a few kids on scoot bikes. What he guessed had been an ancient mall, judging from broken displays in the walls, had become a warren of apartments with a brothel on the side. Mama Chun's building was an oddly quaint affair, considering the surroundings. It had a small patio that diverted the foot traffic, with gaudy red plastic awnings carefully shading bamboo and orchids from the acidic rain that fell a few times a day. The place looked like it had always been a Chinese joint. For all he knew, it had- the Chinese quarter had had a lot of power in DC for as long as he could remember, and he wouldn't be surprised, with all Mama knew, if she was from one of the big families and this was their goddamn point of origin. Rosslyn had long ago ceased to be a station on the ancient Metro, and become something closer to a walled compound. Washington had killed the subway system some time 50 or so years ago, after they'd gone mostly bankrupt fighting riots. The highways had been closed a few years prior to that because of heavy pollution. The last link between the neighborhoods of the city gone, big time gangs and entrepreneurs had taken over the empty skeleton of the Metro tunnels, and each station had become an island. The only way to get around outside of border checks anymore was a long damn hike down a dark track- after having paid the right people the right things to ensure your own safety, of course. Kitch glanced at Mama's noodle shop, smelling won ton soup hungrily. Unfortunately, he'd blown the last of his credits to get back home with his ass intact, and until his chip was wired with some more money from his most recent trade, he was going to have to rely on the kindness of friends. With a reluctant sigh, he let himself slip into the stream of people. He'd head for the clinic. They were probably wondering where the hell he was anyway. But Jannie had caught him in the tunnel on the way in, concerned about Mir missing a meeting, and he'd known. Had to make that stop first. Besides, it wasn't like he had anything for them- nothing that was going to save anyone anyway. His eyes were drawn to the buildings, where those who couldn't keep up with the traffic ended up spun from the center to slide down the walls. Hookers. Junkies. And a larger than average group of folks who looked homeless. Lethargic. Their skin shone, flushed more than it should have been, even given the heat. A rash on their necks. Dull eyes. There were more of them closer to the clinic he got- and when he got there, there was a line out the door. Christ, the flu my ass. The CDC was full of shit, as usual. He went in the side door. Gumshoe Re: Cooperative Story Â« Reply #2 on: 16 August 2006, 01:23:44 Â» Shao Phim should have been nervous as he stood, watching the pedestrians on the street below. He had every right to be... after all, he was here to meet what by all accounts was a very dangerous woman. But instead of nervousness the small, unassuming man was filled with a strange sense of calm. His breath came slowly and evenly, small puffs of vapor forming every few seconds before being swept away by the night breeze. He glanced at his watch, squinting in the darkness - five minutes until his contact was supposed to be here. Rish. That was her name. Or at least, that's what his sources claimed it was. In her line of work you never could be certain. He'd scheduled this meeting himself, of course, not trusting his contacts as much as he usually did. He'd told Rish she'd recieve half her payment and all the information she'd need to get the rest. In reality, she'd recieve much more than that. Shao sighed. He didn't even know the woman. Was it right to do what he was about to do to her? Feet scraped the rooftop behind him, and Shao turned from the edge of the building. A slightly stiffer breeze tugged at the coat he wore, sending a shiver down his back. Or maybe it was reality finally setting in, the thought of what he planned to do penetrating his unnatural calm. "You're early," Shao smiled. It came more easily than he'd thought it would, considering. Rish finished closing the distance between them, her face shrouded by the night. "I'm professional," She responded. It wasn't the haughty statement it would have been from some of the others that practiced her trade. "How about that job?" Rain began to fall as Shao reached into his coat, a light sprinkling of water falling from the darkened heavens. He paused, hand resting on the promised payment. He'd felt Rish tense, but she hid it so quickly he almost didn't notice. Moving a little more cautiously, he withdrew the bundle of bills wrapped in brown paper. They were what was known as credits these days, and aptly so. The economy had gotten so bad that people survived by shuffling their debts, rather than paying them. Only the extremely well off had real money. Or at least what passed for it in such a dismal system. It remained a mystery why the economy hadn't collapsed entirely, as it had in some other nations. France in particular sprang to mind, the ugly images of news reports many years past still had the ability to shock him. The rioting, the bloody fighting as the government collapsed... And here we are, he thought, One step away from it ourselves. A soft noise cut through Shao's revere, and he realized he had yet to hand the credits over to Rish. Perhaps she read his hesitation as second thoughts, for she took the wad of bills quickly. "Don't worry," She said reassuringly, "No one will know you had anything to do with this." "That's not what worries me," Shao said truthfully. He shook his head at her curious look, continuing on with the details of her job. "Nevermind. You'll find twice what I promised in your hand. Your full payment, in advance. I'm afraid I wouldn't be around to give it to you after you complete what I'm asking you to do." She seemed to understand that. Shao could only smile thinly. She had no idea. He carefully withdrew something else from his coat, a folded piece of paper. She took it from his proferred hand. "In there you'll find an address. His name is Edward Sachsen... a former colleague of mine. And a former friend." She didn't press him for details. It was probably more than she usually knew about her targets anyway. "I want it done tonight. Promise me you'll make it... dignified. As clean as possible." She nodded. Compassion from the person who wanted another killed probably wasn't normal, he thought. "Will he have protection?" She asked. "Slim to none," Shao replied. "Edward... he's very secure in his world view. Few people know what he does... what he's done. Or what he is." Shao sighed. "And he's in a part of town patrolled by peacekeepers. The sight of armed patrols does a lot to ease one's fears. I trust they won't be a problem for you." "I've gotten past them before," Rish noted with a bit of pride. Shao nodded. He knew she had. He turned, regarding the ledge and the street below. The few people brave enough to roam the streets at this hour. "Is there anything else I need to know about?" She asked. Shao thought for a moment. There was a lot she should probably know. She'd find out soon enough, he decided. He remained silent, contemplating the street. An armored personell carrier rumbled down the street on it's treads. He waited until he heard her turn to leave, the mercenary's footfalls heading for the stairwell that led down from the roof. "Do you know what it's like?" He asked, raising his voice to be heard without turning around. The footsteps stopped. Shao still didn't turn, eyes still on the street below. "Do you know what it's like," He repeated, "To give your soul to evil? To give it freely, one step at a time, believing you've served a greater good? To see your good intentions twisted and destroyed before your eyes, all the while holding out hope that some good may come of it? And to know that, after all your good intentions, innocent people will suffer?" He turned at last, saw Rish standing near the door to the stairway, rain beginning to come down more heavily. He couldn't see her face, couldn't read her expression. But suddenly, it was important that she'd heard what he had said. "I know," He told her. And again, more softly. "I know." There was a silence, and Rish left. Shao watched her go, waiting several seconds to be sure she was truely gone. He turned back to the edge, straightening his back as he looked down. "Judgement is coming, Edward." And then he stepped off. Lady of the Winds Re: Cooperative Story Â« Reply #3 on: 20 August 2006, 18:39:52 Â» Closing the door behind her, Rish went downstairs to meet up with Joey. As she went she was thinking on the guys parting words to her. Yes, she decided. She knew what it was like to work for evil. That was the very core of being an assassin after all. However, she did feel that her soul was still her own, though a little of it blackened with each job. But to her, helping the gypsies kind of balanced things, actually cleansed her soul. The gypsies after all were old healers, healers of people and the land that was dying thanks to its human population. They knew how to bring life to places where there was nothing but death. Granted they were the ones who taught two lost orphans their main trade after their father died. Rish wondered what their lifestyle was doing to Joey as he came into sight. Like her, when they were not on a job, he was a happy-go-lucky kid. Thinking with his stomach more often than not, content enough to do some simple task, like chopping wood or fixing some electrical gadget. Flinging her rain-darkened black hair out of her violet eyes, she came to the landing where Joey was waiting. "Well?" he asked. They may have been siblings but they looked nothing alike. They were like night and day when they stood next to each other. He had a blond hair color that had darkened over time, as a kid his hair was so blond it was almost completely white. Their eyes however were the same shade of violet, lightening or darkening depending on their mood. They were both nimble, Joey however was more blocky on top and could not do some of the maneuvers that Rish could. For the umpteenth time that evening, Rish wished that Joey would stay out of this business. â€œLetâ€™s go. He wants the job done tonight. He even paid us in full, before the jobâ€¦â€ Rish showed Joey the thick wad of credits. â€œWow, we could eat for a month and never have to do a job with that much. Who is the target that he would pay us this much and expect to get the job done tonight?â€ â€œApparently His name is Edward Sachsen, a former friend of our contact. He said that there should be little in the way of security, however, we would need to slid by some peacekeepers. Doesnâ€™t sound too hard. But let me do this one, he wants it clean andâ€¦ dignified was his exact word. I figure a dart through the throat ought to work.â€ As they were talking, they had been continuing down the stairs and out a side door to the building. As they made their way to the front from the outside, they saw a small crowd pulling together and heard some raised voices. There was something on the ground in the middle of the group. Curious Rish said, â€œStay here, I am going to take a quick look, then we will get going.â€ Expecting that for once, Joey would listen to her, she made her way to the crowd. The thing in the middle was a person on lying down on the ground. With a sense of foreboding Rish went closer. Normally she would not have, bodies in the middle of a street were not all that uncommon, heck she had left a fair share of her jobs there. But this was different, it was important for some reason. As she peered through the rain, the cut of the coat on the man looked vaguely familiar, like the contacts. Looking up, she judged that this about where she had been standing with the contact. She had not seen or heard the man coming down behind them. Turning away with the fair certainty she knew whom the dead man was, she headed in the opposite direction, toward her brother and the target with a sense of extreme unease. * * * * Finding and reaching the area of town where the target resided was the easy part. Rish and Joey knew all the ins and outs of this place that they called home so there really was no need to try and go through the derelict subway system. Besides the target was not too far away from the meeting place. Slightly worried by his sisterâ€™s silence after she went to look at the body, Joey had taken the lead to find the way here. When they reached the neighborhood, he had stopped. The place was crawling with peacekeepers. â€œUh, Rish?â€ he asked, â€œHow heavily guarded did the guy say the target was?â€ Coming out of the reverie she had been on the trip down, Rish finally took notice of her surroundings, which was odd, even preoccupied she kept tabs on what was going on around her. Something has really shaken her up, Joey thought. The neighborhood looked to have been a once prestigious gated community. There were peacekeepers on all the gates, as well as actually patrolling outside walls. He couldnâ€™t be sure, but he also thought he saw some actually patrolling along the streets of the octagonal community. â€œHe said that there would be next to none, just some peacekeepers.â€ As she actually took in the situation she said, â€œDamn, that is more than just a few peacekeepers. Hmmâ€¦ I think we could just try and walk through them. If they stop us, just say we were looking for a friend of a dead friend, to bring him the news of our mutual friendâ€™s death. If they kick us out, then we will come up with something from that point. Hopefully with all this rain though they wont and will just wave us on throughâ€ Rish finished as she fingered her darts in her wet hair absentmindedly. â€œMutual friends death? Where did you get that? And what is wrong Rish?â€ Joey finally asked. He had gotten tired of her silence and preoccupation. â€œYou have been acting really weird since you came back in from meeting the contact,â€ he complained as he pushed his short hair out of his eyes. â€œI donâ€™t know what is wrong. I just have a funny feeling that tonight is not going to be as simple as I was hoping it would be.â€ Shaking her head as if to clear it she continued, â€œcome on, letâ€™s get this done so we can get you something to eat.â€ Gumshoe Re: Cooperative Story Â« Reply #4 on: 04 September 2006, 00:31:02 Â» Edward Sachsen sat in his apartment, ill tempered and annoyed. He watched through the windows as armed peacekeepers in their urban camo uniforms patrolled the streets outside. He'd argued against it, of course. He'd told his employers that nobody knew who he worked for, or what it was he did... nobody, that is, who would be a threat. They hadn't listened, and now Sachsen was a disgruntled prisoner in his own home. He couldn't even go out for a walk without a couple of armed goons tailing him! Well, he consoled himself, at least he'd won one small battle. There might be peacekeepers outside, but there weren't any inside his expansive apartment. He watched the peacekeepers for a moment more, and noticed that two unarmed civillians were approaching them. Sachsen grunted. Ostensibly the peacekeepers were here to protect the local community against possible terrorist activity. It was a cover story that kept Sachsen safely anonymous, and it was even based on fact. There had been several terrorist attacks in the area recently... mostly gangs fighting with each other, but as far as the Powers That Be were concerned anybody shooting a non sanctioned weapon was a terrorist hellbent on killing innocent civillians. True to their cover, the peacekeepers halted the civillians and asked for their IDs. Sachsen closed the curtains. He didn't recognize the two, but he was fairly certain they didn't look like terrorists. Besides, he was supposed to be relaxing. Tomorrow would be another full day, after all... The peacekeeper shouldered his weapon and looked skeptically at the two civillians who had approached the community's main entrance. Their IDs checked out as authentic, but they didn't live in the complex. A little late for visitors, he thought. Still, he supposed it was possible. "What's your business?" He asked, handing back their IDs. "We're here to deliver news of a friend's death," The woman answered. "We thought we should deliver the news in person," She added. Well, the peacekeeper thought, that would explain why they were here so late. "Ok," He told them. "Come on." Turning, the peacekeeper lead the way towards the nearest entrance to the apartment complex. Along the way he reached up and took hold of the radio mounted on his shoulder, depressing the transmission button. "This is Kemper at gate four, I'm escorting two visitors into the complex." There was a pause, then there was a click as another peacekeeper responded. "Roger that, Kemper. Litger will cover your gate." Kemper turned his head as they approached the door, looking over his shoulder at the two civillians. "So who is it you're visiting?" "Ed Sachsen." The woman replied. Kemper paused, hand resting on the doorknob. Crap, He thought, I should've asked that sooner... "I'm sorry," Kemper said, "Mr. Sachsen requested no visitors." Vallaria Re: Cooperative Story Â« Reply #5 on: 03 October 2006, 16:25:12 Â» Mir swayed slightly in the muggy current of air on the roof of the building. The last of the daylight glinted off the metal of her cheek tattoos, which stood out too starkly against her dull skin. The warren of people, bikes, and lights seemed tiny, far away, and tinny like music heard from a few apartments down. The sounds and smells ran together in her brain like a video on fast forward, and it was almost enough to make her throw up. She felt dizzy, and light- too light to be here. She could almost walk out over the traffic and view it from the air, she was so light. Her ragged robe was clutched around her too thin form by tiny hands covered in rings. Each one of them had been given to her by Knol for some made up important occasion, and she clenched her fingers together tightly as if they would tug themselves off her fingers and go join him. Mir felt herself drawn to the scene below like a magnet to thousands of iron filings. Too soon. It was too soon to be out here. To be up here. She needed to go back. Why had she come? For a second, she almost couldn't find the door off the roof. Everything seemed too big, too sharp, too real. She clutched at the doorknob for a long minute before clumsily pulling the door back and collapsing against the landing wall inside. Making it back to her apartment was a blur, though she knew her pulse was racing like a small birds. Like something hunted. When the door finally closed behind her, blocking out the sick looking hallway glows, she slowly slumped to the floor. The thin blue light of the apartment, puncutuated by bursts of neon colors from the outside, seemed like a balm. She wouldn't turn on a light. There was a chair somewhere over here. One she hadn't thrown out the window. She threw off some old clothes, and sat down. Eventually she realized there was a table in front of her. And on that table was a bag. She reached forward hesitantly and opened it with child's fingers. The smell of noodles and soy sauce hit her like a tsunami, and dissapointment and weakness hit her like a brick. She'd really been hoping Kitch had relented and left her some more demarol. No. Kitch would have come to find her if he'd found the apartment empty. Mama. She shoved the bag farther across the table. It made her sick right now. Later. She'd eat. Lady of the Winds Re: Cooperative Story Â« Reply #6 on: 25 October 2006, 15:18:18 Â» Rish just looked at the guard. "He might have said that he isn't taking visitors, however, like I said before, we are here to tell him of a friends death. Don't you think he might be a little upset that you would not have let us through?" The gaurd sat there struggling with what to do. Rish saw that easily enough in his eyes. Putting her hand up to her hair as in a posture of frustration, she let her eyes fill with tears. "Christ, what are we going to tell Mir when she finds out that they would not let us in to tell Ed that their brother is dead?" Turning towards Joey, she gave him a warning look that she was about to draw a dart out of her hair when the gaurd cleared his throat and put his hand on her shoulder. It was all she could do not to grab it off her shoulder and break it. "Hey now, there is no need to cry," said the guard. "We'll get you in for a couple of minutes. But then you will need to leave." So, thought Rish, he came up with a solution that he could live with and not get in trouble for. However if he stays with us, the job gets that much harder. We will need to get him to stay outside. "Thank you," Rish said tearfully, following as the guard turned and lead them through the compound. Joey put his arm around her as though comforting her. "Uh, Rish, who is Mir?" "I dunno, just a name I heard a guy yell while he was pounding on a door down the hall," Rish returned in a low voice to her brother. "We'll need the gaurd to stay in the hall..." Rish trailed off as the guard stopped in front of the door. "Here is Ed's place," he said as he knocked on the door. The door opened a crack and a voice on the other side said, "yes?" "There are a couple of people here to see you sir." The door opened wider to let them in, and as the guard started to follow, Joey put a hand on his shoulder and said in a tone of voice that conveyed that he liked the guard, "Hey man, would you mind waiting out here. I mean, you know how it is, when you find out someone you cared for has died. Generally you want peace, quiet, and only a limited number of people around. Could you wait out here for a couple of minutes?" "Sure do," the guard said nodding. "Just don't take too long. I know you will want to stay with him for a while, but by bringing you in to Ed, I could get in trouble." "Right man, I will make sure that my sister doesn't keep him for long. Thanks," Joey said as he turned to follow Joey into a dark apartment. Gumshoe Re: Cooperative Story Â« Reply #7 on: 09 November 2006, 01:02:12 Â» Edward was dozing lightly on the couch when somebody decided that he would not, in fact, benefit from a decent night's sleep. The short, sharp knocking on his door sounded as if it were important, though, so he stood and grumbled his way over to the door. He opened it without thinking, not bothering to look through the eyehole. Whoever it was, they wouldn't have gotten through the peacekeepers below unless they were harmless. "Yes?" He asked. Sure enough, a uniformed peacekeeper stood in the hallway, rifle slung over his shoulder. "There are a couple of people here to see you, sir," He said. Sachsen shrugged, opening the door further to allow his visitors in. He turned and headed back into his apartment, trusting that they would find their way in on their own. He was feeling like tea, now that he was awake. Tea always made things better. He heard the door close as he reached the counter, not even turning around as he heard the deadbolt slide into place. "Yes?" he asked again, putting as much irritation as he could muster into his voice, "What is it?" He found the pot he was looking for, and put some water on the stove to boil. "What's so damn important that you couldn't-" Sachsen's voice caught as he finally turned around. The civillians he'd seen outside just moments ago were now here, in his apartment. And the peacekeeper was gone. "Who-" He began to protest, frowning. The woman cut him off. "Edward Sachsen?" She asked. His expression must have spoken for itself, for she didn't wait on his response. "I have a message for you. From Shao." The woman reached up and pulled something from her hair. "What-" Sachsen tried again. This time, it wasn't the woman who cut him off. It was the explosion. The entire building shook, sending bits of plaster drifting down from the ceiling. "- the hell?" he finished instead, bracing himself against the counter. The rapid pop-pop-pop of gunfire echoed up from the street, and Sachsen's face paled. He hadn't believed them when they said somebody would come for him... his eyes widening, he looked at his visitors anew. "You're here to kill me," He gasped. "Aren't you?" In the hallway outside, Kemper had unslung his rifle and rushed to the nearest window. The sight that greeted him wasn't good. The peacekeeper's APC was in flames, likely hit by an RPG. The impact had set off the vehicle's fuel tanks, causing the explosion which had rocked the building. A number of nearby peacekeepers had died in that explosion, and those that remained were taking cover wherever they could as masked gunmen opened fire from across the street. Sachsen, he thought. He turned and started for the man's apartment when the stairway door opened. As Sachsen watched, the lead assassin glanced at the windows and then back. She hadn't answered him yet, but she did have a weapon of some sort in her hand, and her companion now had his own weapon out. The two appeared hesitant, as if something had thrown them off guard. The exlosion? Whatever it was, it gave Sachsen the slimmest of chances. His hand darted out to grab the pot of water, not very hot, but it would do as an improvised weapon. Just as his hand closed around the handle, a louder racket of gunfire errupted in the hallway outside the apartment. The two assassins, if that's what they were, quickly turned their attention back to the front door. Silence descended once again, punctuated only by the gun battle on the streets below. "I think-" Sachsen started, hoping against hope that he might get some answers one way or the other. But just as he started, the front door exploded inward in a shower of wood and plaster. Lady of the Winds Re: Cooperative Story Â« Reply #8 on: 07 January 2007, 15:35:02 Â» Ducking as the shrapnel exploded towards her and her brother, Rish pulled Joey to the floor as her mind worked overtime. What the hell is going on? she wondered. Was Shao not the only one to want this man dead? If not, who else and why? As the dust started to settle she pulled her brother away from the kitchen towards the living room for some cover. Beams of light started flashing through the dust as men with guns came through the door. â€œShit,â€ Rish muttered, â€œhow much worse can this night get?â€ â€œYour might now want to ask that question right now Sis. What do we do? Take out the target or run?â€ Joey asked as he was pulled by his sister towards the target. Well, thought Joey, looks like we will take down the target. But that is not what Rish did. Instead of pulling out her darts she grabbed the target and pulled both Joey and Sachsen towards the window. She threw Sachsen through it following close behind, trusting Joey to follow her. That was when the bullets started flying from the guys with guns. Before Joey could make it out the window, a bullet hit the back of his left shoulder. After the impact of the bullet, Joey stumbled against the windowsill and rolled out the window over his wounded shoulder and landed with a thud on his back. Rish pulled her little brother to his feet and started to pull him into the shadow of the next building over. Sachsen was already there, staring with wide eyes and several cuts on is face from the glass. Gumshoe on "419-2" http://www.musemart.com/topic/419-2#post-50 Wed, 27 Jun 2007 12:53:07 +0000 Gumshoe 50@http://www.musemart.com/ From nothing, came everything. A green tinted world banished the darkness, too fuzzy to make out any details. Nerves flared, and he could feel them come alive, like a million needles burning every inch of skin at once. He gasped - tried to gasp - in pain, only to discover he couldn't. His lungs wouldn't work. They felt heavy, as if they were full of something dense. Instict kicked in, an automatic fear of drowning that drove him to try and escape. His feet kicked out, pushing against the hard surface below him, but something hard blocked his upward progress. He panicked further, not just drowning but trapped, and struck out with his hands. They hit something hard and unyeilding less than a foot in front of him, and he flailed at it repeatedly, desperate to escape. It refused to give. He planted his hands firmly on this invisible object, and pushed hard. He sank into something soft but firmly unyielding behind him, giving him leverage to push harder. At last it moved, sliding sideways instead of falling out as he'd expected. He fell forward, landing akwardly on the cold floor as a cascade of green gel splashed thickly around him. He frantically tried to draw a breath, found his lungs still wouldn't work, and began gagging. More green gel splashed onto the floor as his lungs clenched painfully. He drew one haggard, painful breath and gagged again, sputtering out more goo. His stomach, also heavy, joined his lungs and he wretched still more gel into the thick puddle just inches from his face. He collapsed onto his side, gasping painfully, feeling dizzy. He stared around at the fuzzy green world he was finally aware of. It wouldn't come into focus, wouldn't stop being green. Fearing more gel he screwed his eyes shut tightly, scoured them with the palms of his hands and felt something thick and wet leak down the sides of his face. When he opened them again, he could see clearly. He was in a long, erraticly lit hallway. The floor was hard, cold metal, and roughly textured. Pipes crowded the cieling, unlabeled, varying in size and color. Every so often they would part just enough to allow for a lighting fixture. He rose to his knees, breathing slowly and deliberately for the sake of his bruised lungs. The wall before him contained rows of tall, thin doors. Each had a number etched into it, along with what appeared to be a small display screen. There were buttons, arranged in a square beneath the screen. He looked to his left, found that the corridor continued on... seemingly forever, swallowed as it was after some distance by impenetrable darkness. To his right, it was the same. Occasionaly one of the soft blue lights that illuminated his section of hallway would flicker and die, only to return a minute or so later. He wiped ineffectively at the goo that covered him from head to foot, giving up as it began to dry and turn unpleasantly sticky. At last he rose to his feet and turned to regard the wall behind him. An open glass cylinder greeted him, occupying the wall from floor to ceiling. More green gel slid and dripped down the inside surface, and about an inch of it puddled at the bottom, which was grated and presumably contained a drain, as the level of goo was slowly dropping. A cushion, contoured to fit an upright form, was affixed to the back of the cylinder. At the top of the cylinder, on the outside, was engraved a number. It was the same number that adorned the door on the opposite wall: 419-2. To the left and right of the empy cylinder were identical ones, lining the wall on and on untill they dissapeared into the darkness. Curious, he looked at the number on the cylinder immediately to his right. It was numbered 420-2. It was full of green liquid, presumably the same goo in which he himself had been encased. He pressed his face against the glass. There was somebody in there, fuzzy and indistict in the gel. He watched for movement, some sign that the person within was alive. There was nothing. He glanced farther along, at the next cylinder in line. It was also full. The one after that... was empty. Curious, he approached. There was no trace of the green goo that still dripped from, or more often, clung to his jumpsuit, either inside the cylinder or on the floor before it. The glass front had also been partially closed, an opening only a hand's breath wide remaining. He looked back at his own cylinder and the mess he'd made falling out of it, and wondered at the difference. Perhaps the empty cylinder had never been filled? But all of the others were (presumably) occupied, the people incased in green gel. Why would this one be different from all the rest? He looked back at the tank before him. He could see his reflection in the glass front, and studied it. Bald, blue eyes, no facial hair. No eyebrows. His face was thin, gaunt. He took a step back, studied the rest of himself. He wore a skintight white jumpsuit, unadorned except for a black barcode over the left breast and on the left shoulder. The green goo didn't seem to have stained the garment, though unsightly globs of it were spattered at random. He noted that his build was thin and lean, to match his face, and something about it struck him as unhealthy. He turned his attention from the tank and looked up and down the hallway. Nobody had come... he felt strongly that somebody should have come. He stood there, wondering if he should wait and how long. He wasn't certain how long he stood there, debating whether or not to go. Finally, he found himself confronting the door across from his cylinder. He tried opening it, but pulling on the latch had no effect. Similarly, trying to get the display to function proved useless. It refused to turn on, and punching several of the buttons did not conjure it to life. At last he gave up. He stood there, staring at the door, fighting a rising sense of disorientation. Things shouldn't be this way. Somebody should have come, the door should have opened. But they hadn't, and it hadn't, and now he had to figure out what to do on his own.