Cyber Cape: content

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Cyber Cape: content

Post by Bone2pick » Mon Sep 23, 2013 9:45 pm

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Metropolis, The City of Tomorrow, is one of the largest and well known cities inside the United States. It’s also your home. You’ve seen a lot of things change since you’ve been here, like the Metropolitan Police strike of 2001. That was the end of the boys in blue, what with them being replaced by private security agencies. Yeah those contract hungry corporations jumped at the chance to fill in the gaps for citizens seeking law and order, at least for those with the extra income who could afford it. That meant lots of poor folks were left fending for themselves, and they still are today. Of course the top shot executives and the upper class stopped caring about them years ago.

You witnessed the huge international corporations become the true power in the world. Megacorps is the name I guess we picked out for them. Works for me. They infested Metropolis just like they do everywhere else that matters; merger by merger, tower by tower, and private army by private army. That's a league that plays above the law and above our so called “representatives”. Folks like us just try to stay out of their way and maybe catch a bone if they graciously decide to drop one to us.

Crime exploded. Gangs spawned and battled for turf in the city’s concrete jungles, and the middle class had to suffer the tightening grip of organized crime. Yeah the Mob had a field day back then, hell they still do. Protection rackets offered from the crime families were selling like hotcakes on the street, because the devil you know sure beats the one you don’t know. America had changed quickly and the once great city of Metropolis, our city, was unfortunately leading the charge. Then 2011 happened.

Impact is what we call it. Our city had the luck of being the bullseye of a particularly extraordinary micrometeor on the eighteenth of November. The rock hit Midtown in the middle of the night and like something out of an old Bradbury story, it bathed the entire city and its suburbs in a ghostly silver light. I remember the spectacle lasting nearly an hour. Folks were just walking around dumbfounded out in front of their homes, desperately trying to make sense of anything. The government came in and snatched up the meteor, but little did any of us know the damage had already been done. Xel was nice enough to explain that.

Yeah Xel really turned the world upside down in 2012. He just walked through his interstellar gateway, or whatever the frag it was, and answered once and for all the pesky question if we are alone in the universe. Imagine the reaction to an alien strolling through Downtown Metropolis. He tried to come to us in peace, at least that’s what the surveillance footage shows, but the Lone Star deputies opened fire on him anyway. Couldn't have been more useless against his shields, but he mercifully gave himself up once the gunmen calmed down. They took him, took him god knows where, but he was off the map for two years. He fed them enough, because that’s when the world’s technology didn’t just boom, it full on exploded. New advancements in medicine, computes, and robotics hit the market; stuff just came flooding out. Xel, the man from outer space, apparently had the bright idea to share some of his off world knowledge with the rednecks of Earth. And then to everyone’s surprise, they let him go.

Yeah it was quite the scene man. An alien had negotiated his release, and he promptly returned to Metropolis. He gave a couple of interviews to the media stations, and by most peoples account handled himself really cool and sharp. Xel told us that the Impact, that the meteor that dropped in on us, would start having an effect on certain folks. That it would trigger something in a percentage of the population, and take them to another level of existence. And guess what? Xel wasn’t lying.

One in two thousand was the ballpark figure. There’s no official count or anything, but that’s where the news estimates have it at. That’s how many people started to evolve, started to manifest abilities. We affectionately call them metahumans nowdays, they can look different, but they don’t have to. Sometimes they’re stronger, bigger, or faster, than us normals. Sometimes they can conjure energy, stuff like force fields or streams of fire. New types keep popping up every day. Early metas started showing their potential around 2014 but there’s still late bloomers coming online as late as today. Now the city has thousands of powered up residents. Some of the metas turn to crime, others get on the payroll of a megacorp and work as elite security, a select few even try to be heroes and fight back against the newly spawned super villains. Today it’s 2022, eleven years after Impact, and these are the strange times we live in.

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*The concept of this RP is to fuse a cyberpunk world with a superhero/supervillian presence. The character you will create can fuse those genres or align itself with one in particular. You may choose to lean on the cyberpunk side of the universe and deal with computer hacking, black market mercenary runs, or high level corporate warfare. Or you can become a caped crusader shaking down this world’s version of Doctor Octopus. Either path is perfectly acceptable, with the option to weave in and out of those very different conflicts.

So who am I and what do I do?

You have very few limits of who you can create (if you keep it sensible) with lots of directions you can take. At the mortal level you can be a shadowy mercenary, a gun for hire, working for the Mob, the Corporations, or anyone else who can afford to pay for your services. Or maybe you fancy the life of a wealthy playboy, or better yet his loyal bodyguard? Will you take the path of the elite corporate soldier, a warrior equipped with the best training and cutting edge weaponry? How about the life of a Batman esque masked vigilante, an icon who prowls the dark city streets for those that abuse societies weakest?

Are you a super powered being, a citizen touched by the meteor’s light? Hero or villain it’s completely your call. Do you use your powers to make the city safer, or to take whatever it is you desire? These choices are yours to make. Your villains can have many faces; murderous street gangs, heartless Mob outfits, super powered villains or worst of all, Megacorporate armies.
Below a mercenary attacks a tower's computer defenses.
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A Cyber Cape Batman
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A techno Superman
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KGB Blimps of Metropolis
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International Megacorporations with facilities in Metropolis

Aesa Tech - As the name suggests, its core business is in aerospace technology where it holds the third largest market share in the world in that sector. The company is one of the members of the Airbus Consortium and has a nasty reputation for unscrupulous mineral mining and environmental damage.

Diatsu Media – A corporation which focuses on public relations, media, and entertainment. While Diatsu is best known for its presence in all aspects of advertising, marketing, and entertainment, it also has subsidiaries in consumer goods and services, and real estate and development.

Esprit Industries - Chemistry and genetics are the Esprit’s main fields of interest, but they are also heavily involved in finance, shipping, and consumer goods and services. This Megacorp has benefitted in unprecedented growth since Mr. Xel has taken charge.

Klein-Gunderson-Bernal (KGB) – One of the world’s leading corporations in military systems development, along with other branches handling civilian electronics, oil, chemistry and infrastructures building. KGB packs a particularly feared elite security team named the Squire, a cutting edge unit with a preference to shoot first and ask questions later. Its major subsidiaries include Beretta, Egis Services, Panhard, SEPER, and Thales-Raytheon.

Lone Star Security Services - One of the more prominent public security companies in North America with contracts of municipal policing from each end of the eastern coastal United States. Lone Star holds 62% of all security contracts in the greater Metropolis area, and the corporation also runs many of the city’s local prisons. This Megacorp has for all intents and purposes, become the city’s police.

Proteus Bell - Its four main business units are computers, electronics, multimedia products and biotechnology. Many of the universal standards of cyberterminal construction were created by Proteus Bell and Proteus Bell subsidiaries.

Sol United - Built on the foundation of heavy manufacturing and petrochemicals, it has also diversified into biotechnology, entertainment, consumer goods, and agriculture. Subsidiaries include Daewoo Corporation, LG-Haas, Pohang Iron & Steel, South Korea Energy, and Haiu Biotek.


Metahuman Classes

Class one - Lowest level metas with powers that don't substantially effect themselves or their environment. Power examples: spontaneous hair color change or night vision

Class two - Low level self or environment changes. Power examples: moderate super healing, blinding flash attacks

Class three - A combination of self or environmental changes of significant power. Power examples: super strength, bullet proof, danger senses, flight (Spider Man types)

Class four - Powerful combinations of abilities or particular threatening power. Power examples: mind control, super speed, incredible durability, area of effect energy attacks (Storm from X-men, Charles Xavier)

Class five - Superman/Thor types. No class fives have been recorded at this time and this class is not open to players.


Power types and levels are pretty open as far as your character is concerned. Having said that, a collection of high end powers or a particularly potent (city shaping) ability, could result in the character being too much for the scale of the game. Cyber Cape’s number one threat, and the threat that needs to be maintained for the integrity of the story, is that of the megacorporations and their professional security forces. So characters in the Superman range, who have a power set that even a megacorp army can’t threaten, are not to be created. A good rule of thumb is if a private army would struggle to take out your character, then you need to power him or her down.

Here's a look at the districts of Metropolis.
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Character Sheet

[Name]
[Alias/persona]
[Gender]
[Age]
[Height]
[Weight]
[Hair]
[Eyes]
[Facial description]
[Body type]

[Wardrobe/costume]
[Weapons]
[Other gear]

[Skills & talents]
[Powers (if applicable)]
[Weaknesses]

[Personality traits]
[Motivations]
[Character bio]
Last edited by Bone2pick on Sat Oct 19, 2013 11:25 am, edited 2 times in total.
Space Marines excel at warfare because they were designed to excel at everything.

-Primarch Roboute Guilliman

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Re: Cyber Cape: content

Post by Bone2pick » Tue Sep 24, 2013 10:01 am

[Name] Joss Jensen
[Alias/persona] Cold Snap
[Gender] Male
[Age] 24
[Height] 5’11
[Weight] 160 pounds (500 pounds in ice)
[Hair] Black, tight crew cut
[Eyes] Dark blue
[Facial description] fair complexion, faintly freckled, large smile
[Body type] lean, wiry, athletic

[Wardrobe/costume] Black and gold jacket with hoodie, ice blue (cheap) sunglasses
[Weapons] none
[Other gear] school style backpack, smart phone, keychain flashlight, secondhand computer tablet, Suzuki v strom 650 motorcycle (pictured), bike helmet, & heavy duty zip ties

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[Skills & talents] Bachelor of Science degree in Molecular Biology from the University of Metropolis, collegiate level wrestler, intern at Queensland General Hospital, bass guitar player.


[Powers]
Transformation in the span of seconds into a being of solid ice. Several powers are tied into Joss’ altered state Cold Snap.

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-limited super strength = comfortably repetition 1100 pounds on the flat bench, 1800 pound rep squats
-Super durability = in ice form bullets and small impacts are virtually ineffective against him
-Super healing = in ice form he can heal all but the most grievous of physical wounds in 24 hours or less, regrowing limbs is even possible
-immune to all cold based attacks and the effects of lower temperature environments
-visualizes the temperature spectrum on top of his normalized sight (this prevents him from accidently walking into super-heated steam)
-super endurance = can exert himself at maximum capacity for hours on end (beyond human ability) before showing signs of fatigue, exceptions can happen

Note: Cold Snap cannot create ice structures, freeze anyone or anything, or use ranged cold based attacks. Cold Snap’s powers are purely individual benefits and do not affect his environment outside of touched objects interacting with pure ice.


[Weaknesses] Intense exposure to fire or concentrated heat is devastating to Cold Snap. Usually it results in him reflexively triggering to his flesh state and attempting to deal with the hot temperature as a standard human would. He also reacts poorly to electrical based attacks, while the electricity alone would be hard pressed to kill Cold Snap, it easily stuns him and can further incapacitate him.

[Personality traits] Loyal, protective, tenacious, polite, good spirited, empathetic.
[Motivations] To take back some of Metropolis from the grips of violent criminals. To fight for those who can’t fight for themselves, to live up to an ideal of what he imagines the city needs.

[Character bio]
You can take the boy out of Queensland Park, but you can’t take Queensland Park out of the boy. Maybe that’s why I moved back, it’s in my blood. Sure my Dad letting me stay in the spare room was a convenience, but I could’ve scraped together something else; somewhere else to be more specific. I even thought about renting a flat in North Bridge. I had the deposit ready and everything, but I chickened out. I guess I still see Queensland as my corner of Metropolis, and I’m not ready to let it go.

So I’ve hooked back up with Dad again. The man never changes, he just keeps going through the same motions I’ve seen him make since I was a kid. I know he enjoys the company. I haven’t told him about my other life, not yet. I’m not sure why, I trust him more than anyone. Anyone. I owe him too, with everything he did for me, him and my grandma. Grandma died when I was nine though, so it’s been mostly him. He wasn’t perfect, but he was faithful. That’s all I ever needed.

Mom was never in the picture and frankly I don’t want to get into it, so let’s move on.

One of the many things Dad instilled in me was the love of competition. I wrestled just like he use to, only I took it further than either of us had dreamed; all the way to college. After all the work I put in, running, weight training, blowing off my buddies to get a good night’s sleep. It actually paid off with a full ride to the University of Metropolis. I was the first ever Jensen to earn a degree. Dad continues to brag on me every chance he gets.

I learned a lot in college, but ultimately I found my destiny wasn’t inside a textbook. I was a sophomore at UM when a bunch of depraved gangbangers decided to terrorize our dorms one fall night. My roommate had gotten jammed up in it bad, there must have been three or four scumbags bashing him. Back then I was still trying to figure out what I was and what I could do, so I was scared. But fear be damned, I wasn’t willing to let those thugs get their jollies off by spilling the blood of my friends. No way. I made a stand, I turned it into a fight instead of abuse. They couldn’t have ran away faster.

And that was it for me. The dust finally settled and showed me the road I needed to take. This city, even its few remaining good parts, has too many predators. Vultures and vipers coiled in the shadows, just waiting to pick the life from their victim’s defenseless bones. It was a tune I knew too well, but I’ve never had the means to change it. Until now. I can finally change things for a few folks. I’ll fight for those who can’t fight back. How can I do anything else?
Last edited by Bone2pick on Thu Oct 03, 2013 8:53 am, edited 1 time in total.
Space Marines excel at warfare because they were designed to excel at everything.

-Primarch Roboute Guilliman

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Re: Cyber Cape: content

Post by Cthulu Mechanicus » Tue Sep 24, 2013 6:34 pm

[Name] Steven Barbus
[Alias/persona] Alpha
[Gender] Male
[Age] 43
[Height] 1.80 M
[Weight] 100 lbs
[Hair] Greying black
[Eyes] Green
[Facial description] Haggard, pale, thin.
[Body type] Tall and thin.

[Wardrobe/costume] Sweatpants, sweater//5 Meter tall mechanical juggernaut of steel.
[Weapons] None//Steel fists with electrified knuckles.
[Other gear] Cell phone (low quality), wallet//Crude radar, various status systems.

[Skills & talents] Former boxer, technical skill.
[Powers (if applicable)] None.
[Weaknesses] Physically weak, suffering from cancer.

[Personality traits] Pessimistic, grim, analytical.
[Motivations] Money to afford Treatments.
[Character bio] Steven was an accomplished boxer throughout his early life, until he was diagnosed with cancer. His athletic career was quickly discarded due to his increasing frailty and weakness, and he began to focus on his academic career. After earning multiple engineering degrees at the Queensland university, he began a manufacturing business.
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Steven held his head in his thin, wavering hands. His business had failed, like everything else he had done. He should have seen it coming. The Megacorps rule everything, and no fool would put his money into an independent man and his machines. He coughed, hoping that his mouth wasn't flecked with blood. Of course, it likely would be. He could barely afford the medicine to keep himself alive, let alone something that could force the ever-encroaching tumour back. It's not like he had any marketable skills, besides his brain. Sure, he could make a few bucks a week teaching toddlers how to punch a pedophile, but that wouldn't pay the pills. He could try sticking some poor fellow up, but with all the metahumans out there, how would get away with anything? He looked over the empty factory floor, cobwebs hanging from the manufacturing machines. He's splurged for the ones with an independent power supply, hoping it would attract investors. Instead, all it's done is alleviated the power bill. The machines were very high quality. Each one was incredibly powerful, capable of lifting anything he programmed them to build. An idea, and it's accompanying schematics formed in his head, as his hands glided across the keyboard.
Last edited by Cthulu Mechanicus on Fri Sep 27, 2013 6:34 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Cyber Cape: content

Post by Bone2pick » Wed Sep 25, 2013 8:22 am

Best Served Cold

I eased the security door closed behind me and then flashed Kirk an excited smile. I’d never been behind the scenes at Lone Star before so this was pretty cool. Not quite as impressive as getting a backstage tour of a rock show, but considering what I do, it was inspiring.

Kirk was kicked back in a comfortable swivel chair with one of his hands still fixed on a keypad. The glow of a dozen monitors across from him was the only significant light source in the room. He took a moment to look me up and down and then grinned at my obvious enthusiasm. Kirk stuck his fist out for me after I’d moved up next to him.

“Welcome to the mother ship.”

I chuckled at his greeting and gave his extended fist a gentle punch. Then I motioned to all the various slick gear in the audio video room.

“I need a setup like this of my own.”

Kirk nodded playfully at my comment before he replied.

“You might need to move out of daddy’s house first?”

That had me rocking back on my heels. Apparently Kirk wasn’t too tired after a work shift to conjure up a burn for his ex-roommate. I plopped into an empty chair next to him and pretended to look insulted.

“That’s right, take your shots when you can get them. Because I’ll definitely get mine in.”

Kirk’s smirk was spread from one side of his face to the other as he listened to my less than ominous threat. He quickly fired back at me.

“Alright snowflake, keep your temperature up. Let’s get to the show.”

I leaned in close to the monitor that Kirk was rapidly scrolling through with restless anticipation. Last night he had called to tell me that Lone Star, Metropolis’ primary security agency as well as Kirk’s employer, had recently obtained the video surveillance footage of a recent crime I had an interest in. Kirk slapped a final keystroke and we watched the video playback in silence.

It was a pro-style hit on an underground casino operating in the northeast corner of Queensland Park, my neighborhood. This was a big crew, with ten or more gunman skulking through the casino floor. I quickly noted how each one was packing an identical submachine gun, the new Ares Switchblade. Those are hard to get and highly expensive weapons. Criminals instantly fell in love with their small size, high rate of fire, and uniquely enough; its ability to fold up into a concealable little package. Each gunner also wore the same cheap steel grey suit minus a tie. And to complete the look, everyone was sporting matching grey ski masks. All except one, who didn’t bother to cover up.

He was larger than life. I put him at seven feet tall and maybe four and half bills in weight. Hard to say, but you get the idea. He wore a giant black tux along with a football sized bowtie. It would have been somewhat classy but the sleeves of his jacket and shirt were completely ripped off. Under the frayed mess of torn fabric were two freakishly big arms, the type that could serve as transplant material for Frankenstein’s monster. This guy didn’t have a gun. He didn’t need a gun. I watched in horror as his crew shot their way through the gaming tables and then went about the hideous task of executing surrendered employees. My gaze flicked back to the boss at the same time one of the casino guards unloaded two rounds of a heavy pistol into his chest. The behemoth took their impacts with little more than annoyance before he hurled a nearby slot machine at his offender. Bullseye, the guard was instantly ruined by the man-sized projectile.

“Bulletproof?”

I asked without turning my attention from the screen.

“No, techs say they found trace amounts of meta blood on the carpet. But two torso shots from that range, with that sized gun…Anyone else would be on their backs bleeding out. The lab Doc guessed he was a healer too, probably had both wounds repaired in less than an hour.”

As interesting as Kirk’s information was, I couldn’t pull my focus back from the carnage I was witnessing. It was the most real and visceral violence that I’d ever seen, and I’d seen enough.

“Class two meta?”

Kirk waited a moment to answer my question and then pointed at the monitor as it showed our villain rip the door off of a steel safe.

“We list him at class three.”

I lifted myself slowly out of the chair with my eyes still fixed on the footage. A moment passed before I could feel Kirk watching me. In response I looked away from screen as calmly as I could sell it and then put up a relaxed front. Kirk gave me the common courtesy of pretending he bought it. I needed to break the silence.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely want a copy of this. If you could send this to me tonight that’d be awesome.”

I could see he was wrestling with what to say. I wished he’d just nod and let me slip outta here without any objection, but he didn’t.

“You sure about going after this guy Joss? I mean, this isn’t thrill gangers with knives and pistols. This is a full blown meta with zero qualms about executing anyone in his way.”

I put up an extended fist and Kirk hesitantly obliged me.

“That’s why I have to stop him.”
Space Marines excel at warfare because they were designed to excel at everything.

-Primarch Roboute Guilliman

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Re: Cyber Cape: content

Post by Bone2pick » Thu Sep 26, 2013 8:10 pm

I had a name. Lone Star had run a search against our villain’s face through their database, and low and behold they hit a positive match. He called himself Barbarous, and unfortunately not much more than that detail was on file. The word on this guy was that he’d knocked down a couple of hefty armed robberies as a gun for hire within the last two years. But his background was a complete mystery, sort of like he dropped into the city out of thin air. The only reason Lone Star had anything on him at all was from the benefit of a lucky street security video. The camera had tagged him while he and some other crooks ripped off an armored truck. Guy didn’t bother to wear a mask back then either. Not long after that Lone Star managed to nab one of the crew from the truck job and he conveniently spilled the name and reputation of the scary new meta-human. So much for honor among thieves.

Currently I was chasing down another lead, something I had dug up. The suits that the gunmen were wearing are the standard issue security uniforms of Pure Life employees. That’s a busy nightclub in Newtown that happens to be owned by the Cassamento crime family. Coincidently, Kirk had also informed me that the Cassamentos were the owners of the casino that Barbarous and company hit. Could the Cassamentos have themselves a new admirer? It was time to get a few more answers.
The spirited hum of my Suzuki’s v-twin created a nice soundtrack as I slowly glided through the winding streets of Newtown. My face shield’s heavy tint thankfully helped cut the glare from all the nearby neon lights. People dressed for a good time constantly crisscrossed from one side of the road to the other in order to get to their favorite hangout. I rounded a final curve and the cool white lit sign of Pure Life came squarely into view. I ducked the bike into a nearby parking garage and stashed it somewhere out of the way.

The party was in full swing. Lots of bodies covered mostly in tight dresses and button up shirts over slacks filled every corner of the room. The music roared a standard dance mix while a great pool of wired men and women grooved under the blue LED lights. I shifted my way through the crowd and squeezed myself into an empty spot at the main bar. A young, black spikey haired, and heavily made up female who was busy mixing drinks eventually noticed me smiling.

“What can I get chuh?”

I kept my smile fixed and stared back at her from behind my ice blue sunglasses.

“I was hoping to speak with the manager.”

She looked away for a moment with disinterest and then came back to me after she pulled in a fresh tip.

“Oh yeah, what about?”

I glanced around the club and picked out a few of the bouncers dressed in the very same steel grey suits the gunmen had worn. I said the next words in a slightly lower pitch.

“I have a bunch of his uniforms.”

Now she was interested. The club was hopping but as far as she was concerned I was the only one in the room. She thought about asking me another question but instead settled on just giving me an understanding nod. She held a finger up to ask for a moment and then backed out from behind the bar.

“I’ll go grab him.”

I didn’t have to wait long. A tall black guy, probably in his early forties, walked ahead of my bartender and motioned towards me. He was dressed in a sharp, dark, tieless suit with bright yellow sunglasses framing his face.

“Follow me and we’ll talk in my office.”

We moved with a purpose and skirted around the dance floor. I gave my best grin to a pair of bouncers right before the two of us passed through an employee only door. A quick hallway walk later and we were in his office. It was surprisingly quiet inside, which obviously meant there was some level of sound protection. He didn’t offer me a seat and he didn’t take one for himself, he just got right down to business.

“What have you got?”

And now we had arrived at the time where I was going to feed him the lie that I had crafted on my bike ride over here.

“A box full of suits, all of them steel grey with matching shirts. Tags show they were made by Ideal Work Fabric.”

I heard a feint sigh slip as he nodded with recognition. He pressed on.

“How’d you get them?”

“Are they yours?”

He looked a little put off at me dodging his question, but he worked with me.

“Yeah they’re ours. I had fifteen of them stolen out of the clubs inventory about three weeks ago.”

I had to ask the obvious.

“Any chance they could belong to some other company?”

He had a retort ready.

“Nope, I had those suits custom made from Ideal. They were made to order. So how’d you get them?”

I shrugged and tried to look disappointed.

“They were shipped to my department with my name tagged to the package. I’m the editor-and-chief of UM’s school paper so I get sent stuff all the time. Anyway, inside along with suits was a letter asking me to return these clothes to their owner. Before I even had to resort to a net search a writer of mine recognized their design. I came here hoping to scoop something interesting about these mystery suits.”

The man was eyeing me with a thoroughly confused expression. But I knew, and he knew, that these suits were used in a shooting; so I never doubted that he we would keep his unnecessary questions to himself.

“Editor over at UM?” His question was rhetorical. “Mind if I get my uniforms back?”

I was happy to end the conversation here.

“I don’t mind at all, I’m just let down that this whole thing was a waste of my time. I’ll ship the suits out to your club on Monday.”

He offered his hand for me to shake but I never grabbed it. An interrupting noise had invaded our mostly quiet room. It was the bloodcurdling sound of women screaming. In the span of a second we heard their cries grow in intensity to the point where a few of their sources must have been coming from directly behind our office door. The club manager muttered something along the lines of “what the hell” before he jerked open the office door.

The first thing that unnerved me was that the club’s music came to an abrupt silence as soon as our door swung free. But the second thing that definitely unnerved me was the unmistakable pattern of full auto fire coming from down the hall. Patrons were running in panic like flushed game birds out of a bush. My intuition was ringing its conclusion between my temples. Barbarous was here.
Space Marines excel at warfare because they were designed to excel at everything.

-Primarch Roboute Guilliman

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Re: Cyber Cape: content

Post by Cthulu Mechanicus » Fri Sep 27, 2013 7:04 am

He grunted as he struggled to heft the second arm into place. He had lost track of time. The innards of the arm were still open to view, the synthmuscle cables, the mighty pistons, and a cavalcade of wire colours. As he welded it into place, a name sprang unbidden from his lips. "Alpha." It was fitting. The alloyed arms would be more than capable of taking a few bullets, and their strength would be able to powder bone and rend metal asunder. Granted, the bastardized reactor would only be able to support this for an hour, before it all shut down. He coughed, some blood escaping and flecking the cold metal of the frame. He had to get his medicine soon. It was all or nothing. He clambered into the open belly, and placed his limbs into the appropriate sockets. The black metal of the frame closed, leaving two blue-eyed lenses to see the world.

He had moved through a delivery truck he bought when he had delusions of success. He parked it just out of camera range of the bank, and moved to the back of the truck. He opened the metal door, with a press of a button, and climbed in. Adrenaline and life was pumping through his veins. This was the first time in years since he'd felt alive. The large stride of Alpha brought him to the back door, and he raised one massive fist to enter.

Invinci-boy, he decided he'd be called. After all, he had tested it himself. Bullets only stung, and knives could only scratch. He'd just finished put on his emblazoned wetsuit when he's heard the crash and screams. He raced outside, cape fluttering behind him. A cloud of dust was hanging behind the bank, and the occasional crack of small arms fire could be heard. He rushed across the street, eager to do battle with whatever malcontent was attacking the bank. He banked around a corner, and was greeted with the site of a large robot plundering the bank's reserves. Swallowing a gulp of fear and apprehension, he raised his fists and shouted a challenge.

He barely registered the remark. Was "Come at me Bro" the best challenge a superhero could come up with? He turned around, giant hands clasping golden ingots and bags of money. A young man, likely late tens, early twenties clad in a bright yellow and orange jumpsuit was holding up his fists and swaying from side to side. "Your form is off, your costume is ridiculous, and you're going to get yourself killed." He said from the speaker mounted onto the chassis. The boy stood his ground and slung a few insults at me. "This is your one warning boy. Back off now, or I'll crush you." The boy laughed. "Don't you know? I'm invincible!" He charged at me, and I swung with a massive fist. He went flying with a large crack, blood oozed from his lips and his body had lost most of his shape. Shocked, Steven climbed into the back of his truck, and drove off.
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Re: Cyber Cape: content

Post by Tmb » Sat Sep 28, 2013 6:40 pm

[Name] I’m Rey Comston
[Alias/persona] aka Reycom
[Gender] Male
[Age] 23
[Height] 5’11”
[Weight] 154
[Hair] I got dark gray hair that's short cut in the front, with a long ponytail that tucks into my shirt at the back, it’s about 3 feet in length.
[Eyes] Sharp gray eyes.
[Facial description] Pure glowing skin, cleanly shaven.
[Body type] Lean body, legs are three quarters of my entire height.
[Wardrobe/costume] Tight white shirt. Leather jacket that cannot be done up and has a dark gray fur trim from the center where the zipper should be up and around the collar and at the cuffs. Dark pants that are meant to be used for running and long pockets.
[Weapons] 6" folding knife.
[Other gear] A smartphone on hand. Multitude of flip phones on his desk.

[Skills & talents] Very Athletic, Strong and Durable body. Master of running away.
[Powers] Omniscience.
-I cannot have knowledge on people he has never seen the face of.
-I cannot know something about a person that they don`t know about themselves.
-People get confused I'm not clairvoyant therefore I cannot see how an event will turn out I can only theorize how it will end.
[Weaknesses] Whenever the world has a major discovery or massive gain of information happens I get a massive headache and it’s unbearable all I can do is lay down and rest for a while.

[Personality traits] I enjoy disturbing the peace, and getting mixed into messy situations. I've been told I'm very confident, but I already knew that! I know for a face that I'm the only born leader of humanity and everyone is just a pawn in my plan. My servant tells me I’m too playful and childish at times and I like to joke around and sing!
[Motivations] I just wants to raise a little bit of havoc in such a `boring` world. And take it over...

[Character bio]
The past is such a boring subject, everyone already knows what happened in it, there`s nothing new or exciting about it!

I grew up just outside of Metropolis I was a lil' trouble maker ever since I came into existence, my mother was killed during my birth and as soon as my father got rid of me and my older twin sisters, he got hit by a car and died.

I grew up in the darkest shadiest areas of the outskirts of Metropolis but that wasn't a problem for me. By the time I was twelve I discovered the extent of my omniscient powers and realized my purpose was to control this world. I knew I needed to start at a small scale so I blackmailed my twin sisters, who have powers to convince one person once to do anything once. After a while they got a strong group of thugs and I turned them into an organised gang. I led this gang in a small district that we called the Iron Swamp, it was absolutely filthy and there were no PriSecs (Private Security) around this area. We easily took it over but for my men it wasn't enough. We had grown large in numbers and we planned to aim big. The only problem was I couldn't keep up, so many faces joined that I've never seen. My organised gang got split up into five divisions only four of them had a troublesome leader, the remaining one division is still loyal to me and gives me fifty percent of the gangs profits.

After we split into five I decided to make a living as an info broker and take lots of cash for what I know. I live in an apartment building that belongs to my gang, that commoners can also use. My suite has two floors in it, two rooms on each floor and a main area on the first floor. I live with my servant, Paige, and the twin brats or sisters, they live on the upper level. The upper floor is floor is separated by a reinforced door that only I can open to let those troublemakers in.
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Re: Cyber Cape: content

Post by Tmb » Sun Sep 29, 2013 12:54 am

I was sitting on my black leather shiny sofa, it was shining almost as bright as I do. After getting comfortable I checked the time it was about seven in the morning, I woke up early so I could set up my board game. Diving head first into the setup, I got the chess pieces to be positioned perfectly and then the shogi pieces were positioned perfectly; I rolled a twenty sided die, it was a nineteen. Such a good start to the day, rolling a nineteen, how lucky am I thought to myself. As I looked up from my board a grin slowly started to take form on my face because I noticed the door leading from a secondary bedroom was being opened by a girl who was a bit older than myself. She walked through the doorway. Looking back down at my board I placed four round circles onto the board. I looked back up and broke into a full smile.

“Ho hum! La dee dee, la dee do, la dee dum! Here comes Pay-aige looking glah-um!”

“Would you shut your mouth Rey? It’s freakin’ seven in the morning and I have to make tea for filth like you.”

“Now, now Paige you should know by now that I can. Get. Rid. Of. You. Just. As. Fast. As. I. Saved. You! After all those MegaCorps overthrew your average sized pharmaceutical company and now you've got no money left and no family to go to. You best behave yourself. Oh and don’t try poisoning my tea again, I tend enjoy my life.” I lightheartedly said in a sing song voice.

“A little too much.” She retorted silently and annoyed, thinking I wouldn't hear, and I didn't hear it but I knew she said it.

I watched Paige shrug her shoulders glumly and I overheard her unladylike sigh. I knew she hated me but I know soon she will come to adore me, just like how all humans will eventually come to adore their leader. My thoughts were interrupted by noisy twin brats banging on the door leading to the downstairs area, they want to come in and annoy me again, I just know it. I looked at my sixteen squares by sixteen squares game board before getting up and smiled again. As I started to stand as I moved the chess king up from A.16 to B.15. and sat down again. I stared at the board for a while, I picked up the shogi gold piece from P.14 to P.13. Today will be interesting, so very interesting! I spun on my wheeled chair and caught a glance of the outside world looking up to me, filled with humans just waiting to be ruled.

Getting annoying by pesky siblings I jumped out of my spinning chair and made my way up the staircase leading to the upstairs reinforced door and right before opening the door I moved to the side to watch as the door opened and my sisters came tumbling down the staircase screaming profanities at me telling me I should have gave them a warning before opening the door as they landed with a loud thud.

“Your tea will be ready soon! I thought I’d let you have a drink before the events of today unfold.”

“Right,” they spoke in unison, “today is an important day for little brother Reek, he has his disgusting smile pasted on his face and his dead fish eyes are shining with joy.”

I ignored their comments, they will come to love me soon enough and shower me with compliments in time. Well I believe it would be a good idea for me to get moving so I put on my leather jacket and took a step out of my room and took a stroll to the main floor. My gang members, known as The Commoners, greeted me by my last name and the normal people of Metropolis nodded their heads towards me.

All of my soon-to-be loyal subjects surrounding me is such a great feeling! I know that they all know my name in the southern parts of Midtown after today throughout the entire Midtown my name will be known, maybe even further! I love people they will spread my name and soon everyone will know who I am! I will make my place in history. Well... At least that would be a great present for my birthday, which is today.
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Re: Cyber Cape: content

Post by Bone2pick » Sun Sep 29, 2013 10:54 pm

It was total pandemonium. The club’s manager, who I’d never got a name from, plunged himself into the hallway full of fleeing people. I didn’t follow, but I could hear him desperately trying to shout over the horrible symphony of screams and gunfire in an effort to rally his bouncers. I had stayed behind to change.

Off came the glasses and on came the ice. The transformation, like always, began in the front. So my most forward parts and pieces, things like the nose, toes, chest, and chin, were replaced first; then the progression continued down the depth of my body where it finished at my back. Having grown familiar with it all I would now describe it as a pleasant sensation, like pushing your skin through gelatin. In the span of a mere two seconds I had shed my flesh for my glacial form, a sapphire blue ice figure with polar white reflections.

Another round of angry buzzing from nearby machine guns sent me darting into the hall. Out there it became immediately clear that the fight would have to wait. People were in trouble. Down below the fray of fleeing patrons were the injured and fallen, men and women who had been knocked prone or who were too wounded to pick themselves up off the cold hall floor. Folks were so spooked as they raced towards the exit that even my abnormal appearance hardly got a second look. As I stooped to aid the first collapsed young woman I felt knee caps and shoe soles collide into me. My elevated durability registered the contact as nothing more than a nuisance. Quickly the girl was hoisted onto an icy shoulder and carried outside the building. There was no time to delay so I immediately sprinted back down the hall to help others. My next stop was a young man, he was crawling on all fours after suffering a gunshot wound to his forearm and what looked like a nasty ankle sprain. I snatched him off the ground and tore a strip of fabric from his pant leg as I ushered him outside. Once he was placed in a relatively safe spot I briskly tied the torn cloth into a bandage for his bleeding arm. Once again I was sprinting back down the hall, which was now almost entirely cleared out, in order to rescue a final unconscious woman. After she was removed from the danger I returned to meet the perpetrators.

By now the gunshots had ceased and been replaced by a grim stillness. The hallway was finally clear and I moved quickly down its length until I was standing in front of the door leading into the main club. I could overhear masculine voices muttering to one another. I snapped the door open.

The stench of blood and gun smoke assaulted my senses. A quick scan revealed the horrifying shapes and forms of up to a dozen dead bodies. I stood in stunned paralysis, struggling with the loss of so much life. Most of grey suits, Barbarous’ men, had noticed my entrance; but the only action they took was to stare. I guess I wasn't what they were expecting. It took a forward step from me before anyone pointed a gun in my direction, but once one did, they all followed suit. I could see the hulking mass of Barbarous as he conversed with one of his masked soldiers across the dance floor. The two of them had been too engaged to notice my intrusion. One of the grey suits eventually called out to his boss.

“Barbarous, we’ve got somebody!”

The conversation was broke by the alarming call and Barbarous searched the room for the announced complication. When his eyes inevitably settled on me he cocked his head and raised one of his bushy eyebrows in confusion. Even though I had watched video of him before this, tonight was the first time I had truly seen him. He had long wild black hair that spilled past his enormous shoulders. His face was oversized, even for his abnormal proportions, and it had the same features as what I’d always imagined a Neanderthal to have. He was outfitted in his trademark tuxedo with the sleeves ripped off. I watch his lip curl into a snarl as he looked me up and down. At a glance he would be judged as having subhuman intellect, but his piercing eyes told a wicked contradiction. I knew, by virtue of instinct, that he was sinister and not to be underestimated. He took a powerful step forward in my direction and squared his shoulders before speaking to me.

“What do you think you’re doing Iceman?”

His voice was low and guttural. I took another moment to look around at the numerous victims of Pure Life and then shot a condemning stare back at him.

“It’s Cold Snap, and I’m here to crash the party.”

Submachine guns took careful aim at my face and torso after my threat was heard. Yet Barbarous, except for a nervous nostril flare, had remained perfectly statuesque.

“No.”

The villain’s word was barely audible, and that was with the club humming at a deathly silence. But it got the message across, because his ten or so grey suits lowered their weapons back to their hips. Barbarous raised his voice and growled the next words out to serve as a command and a threat.

“He’s mine.”

I saw muscles and veins ripple down his exposed freakish arms as adrenalin most likely surged through his meta-body. He squeezed his gnarled hands into a pair of fists and they answered with popping cracks from his bulbous knuckles . I nodded my readiness and exhaled a deep frosty breath.
Space Marines excel at warfare because they were designed to excel at everything.

-Primarch Roboute Guilliman

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Re: Cyber Cape: content

Post by Bone2pick » Tue Oct 01, 2013 10:05 pm

I can’t say for sure, but I think I was the one who charged first. Regardless, Barbarous wasn’t slow to respond; he spread his paw sized hands wide and trudged back at me. The plan was to tackle him around the waist and take the fight inside the length of his massive striking limbs, but then he kicked me. It was surprising, it was painful, it was superhuman, and it struck me squarely in the midsection. I propelled through the air like a violently thrown child’s doll, smashing through a small bar top table and finally crashing into the nearest wall. As I recovered and peeled myself free of the ruined drywall, I took a moment to appreciate the catlike quickness Barbarous was capable of. Doubt managed to creep in, and the memory of Kirk’s cautionary words whispered at me.

By the time I managed to steady my feet Barbarous had moved within two strides. I attacked on impulse, and this time it was him who was caught off guard. Both of my icy hands snatched a single muscled leg from my opponent, and with an explosion of force I lifted the limb into a controlled hold. Barbarous was robbed of his sure footing as he was forced to stand with a single leg. Then in a flash of technique my left foot swiped out and took my enemy’s remaining support limb with it. Down we fell, and when we landed a furious wrestling match began. Barbarous roared at me with so much hate and wrath that I suspected even his own trigger men were terrified. I cocked my fist back for an intended face punch but Barbarous locked onto my wrist and slowly twisted my arm against itself. My forehead became the new weapon of choice and I whipped its icy surface into my enemy’s face. Hitting his meta-flesh was like hitting a minivan, but I was tough enough to not let it slow me down. Again I butted my head onto the snarling mouth of Barbarous, and after the second blow I managed to untangle my arm.

My cold hands snaked their way behind the villain’s back and locked together in a frozen grip. I planted my feet, arched my back, and unleashed everything. It must have been a sight to behold: Seeing me, a living ice sculpture, lift the monstrous body of Barbarous above my shoulders for a punishing suplex. The slam was simultaneously savage and beautiful, passionate yet technical. His shoulder blades and skull were pounded into the tile dance floor erupting dust and rubble into the air. I stared down at the broken body of my enemy who was now hardly stirring. The grey suits looked to each other for direction, unsure of whether to run away or stay and fight. I was considering charging the nearest gunman when I was tripped. Barbarous had chopped my legs out from under me with a powerful swipe of his arm and I cursed myself for thinking the battle between he and I was over. He was up and ready before I could muster a proper defense and I became vaguely aware that he had grabbed me before I went soaring off the floor.

I was thrown like a missile across the nightclub and landed in an explosion through the main bar. Busted light bulbs blinked and sparked as I looked up at the ceiling, while destroyed bottles of vodka spilled their contents all over me. As I sloshed through the wreckage around me in an attempt to stand I could hear the distant whine of emergency response vehicles. Lone Star was coming. I also heard a quick series of grunts from Barbarous to his crew. Most of the gang had moved near the club’s exit when I made it back on my feet. Barbarous cupped a hand to his mouth, a bleeding mouth I noticed, in order to call out to me.

“Sorry Ice, that’s all the time I have for you tonight. Let’s do this again soon.”

Two of his crew opened fire on me as the rest of them ran out the door. Ares Switchblades quickly spilled their entire magazines of ammo against my frozen form with negligible effect. I leapt over what was left of the bar and yelled out to the now gone Barbarous.

“I said I’m Cold Snap!”

I ran through the hail of bullets as if they were mere moths. The two remaining grey suits turned to flee but I grabbed a fistful of jacket collar from one of them and pulled him off his feet. He took a hard spill onto his back and I quickly drilled a fist strike into his stomach. Any fight remaining in the man was immediately drained from his body as he curled into a fetal like shape. I plucked a pair of large tie-wraps from my pants pocket and promptly secured his hands and feet. Tires squealed out in the street and I knew that probably meant Barbarous and company would get away. As the sirens of Lone Star grew into a wail I choked down any thoughts of pursuit for a more sensible decision. I needed to disappear.
Space Marines excel at warfare because they were designed to excel at everything.

-Primarch Roboute Guilliman

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Re: Cyber Cape: content

Post by Jason » Wed Oct 02, 2013 10:53 pm

[Name] Gordon Kaplan
[Alias/persona] BH 1992-ED (Bounty Hunter, 1992, suffix: Extremely Dangerous)
[Gender] Male
[Age] 35
[Height] 6'
[Weight] 190 lbs
[Hair] Brown, short and manageable.
[Eyes] Grayish green
[Facial description] Rugged, strong jawline with small, deep-set eyes, clean shaven, numerical tattoo under left eye (1992)
[Body type] Muscular, evenly balanced, mechanically augmented (Various; right forearm and hand, neural and ocular augments)
[Wardrobe/costume] Modular KGB supplied reactive body armor and tactical harness, sturdy pair of boots, worn gray duster-coat over top of his armor and harness, undershirt, military breeches.
[Weapons] Many at his disposal, though not all carried on his person at once. A few of his usual choices: KGB supplied military grade equipment and weapons;
K-44 "Dan-Wesson" special revolver. Chambered in .44 +P+ (permanent carry, under the shoulder holster)
Baur H-AR. Heavy assault rifle meant for military action; 30 round magazine, modular for various accessories, fires 8mm +P Hi-Penetration ammunition.
2 P33 semi-automatic pistols. High-capacity, 18 round magazines, lightweight frame, +P+ 9mm tungsten core ammunition.
Tungsten carbide combat knife, blade length 11", overall length, 18"
[Other gear] Various medical supplies, situation supplies such as smoke grenades, extra ammunition, smart-device built in to his augmented arm, ID-tags, various forms of currency; credits to the mineral standard.
[Skills & talents] Extensive military training, survivalist training, good intuition and excellent reflexes, Augmented reactions (very quick movements), data-accessibility through augments, specialty of tracking high-risk and dangerous "Meta's". Very thorough on the job.
[Powers (if applicable)] Lightning fast reaction time through neural and ocular augments.
[Weaknesses] Mechanical integration into his body requires a synthesizer to help the body not reject implants and augments for 6 years (4 months left), Obsessive tendencies towards his quarries.
[Personality traits] A reasonable man, not especially the nicest, but reasonable. The type of guy who tells it like it is and doesn't try to sugar coat what's on his mind; is not afraid to offend people with his words. Bound (literally) by the global bounty hunters coalition, he adheres to a strict code of conduct that his kind conforms to, meaning he is curt with his demeanor, and remains professional under every circumstance. Nearly constantly smoking to distract from phantom pains and aches.
[Motivations] Money, Bounty Hunter contract.
[Character bio]
Kaplan was the son of a KGB militant worker. His father was part of the private army the Megacorp funded and kept armed, and on call. Allegiance to the highest bidder was always a false face, their true colour lay with the KGB Corp, no matter how much money was on the line. Gordon grew up in a relatively okay section of Metropolis, away from the harsh industrial center, but not so much in the "Green Zones." He went through his primary and mandatory schooling without relative problems, but as his father passed away on the job, their was a vacancy within the operation; and making new name-tags was not in the KGB fiscal budget that quarter. He donned his fathers mantle within the army at 18, seeing near constant military action until he was released from his contract at 30. He fought nearly anyone and everyone the KGB kept shady dealings with; private armies, other Megacorps, governments, mercenaries, gangs, you name it. He lost his arm and was vitally injured as his squad were raiding an underground pharmaceuticals lab which was producing a dangerous drug to the underbelly gangs as a kind of pain inhibitor. He entered the lab to find a hulking Meta, with a gorilla like physique charging at him. Before he could fire his weapon he was being tossed around the room until his right arm was severed at the elbow. His squad heard the commotion after subduing the operators on the 13th floor of the building, finding Kaplan still in the beasts clutches, locked in it's rigor-mortis grip. Kaplan had stabbed the beast to death until it bled out as he was being thrashed about by the monster who couldn't feel pain. He was sent to the KGB emergency medical facility and was given a bio-integrated mechanical arm. A prosthetic that could do every function of a real limb; feeling, temperature determination, 1:1 movement and symbiotically powered. His brain was a little "Fried" after being beaten so thusly, and was given ocular and neural augments to repair the damage done by his opponent. When he finally was released from contract, he returned to find his mother in well condition, still as fierce as she was when she married his father. He used his funds and legacy insurance to maintain himself and buy a small apartment space in the financial sector of the main hub, downtown. After a year of working, he grew bored of his idle life. He signed onto the Global Bounty-Hunters Coalition, a semi-legal operation in which vigilantes are placed above sector security and given clearance to kill whoever is needed and use whatever method is needed to access their target. He is granted permission to access the Coalition's database of fugitives and high-risk targets to complete as he pleases, and is paid by the reward terms provided by the bounty. His ID was tattooed to his face, BH-1992 the "ED" -Extremely Dangerous- was added after 5 years of consistent service, and his threat potential was appraised very high should he ever go rogue against the coalition. It is not unheard of for Bounty Hunters to hunt each other through the Coalition; but it is only under the direst circumstances; or competition for high-reward bounties. Now, Kaplan lives a comfortable life through his rewards, living the dangerous life of a veteran Bounty Hunter. He has networked a vast sea of contacts and IOU's over the years, with many people under his unofficial contract; running him info in return for protection. His ties to the KGB Corp are still strong, as he has never paid for ammunition, weapons or medical bills in his life; though his former squad mates and newer soldiers are distrustful of him since he IS a Bounty Hunter after all, and all it takes for him to come for you is someone to place an ad with the right amount of money. He earned a reputation of being a very capable Meta-Human hunter, since the sub-race of humans can be very dangerous due to their usually unique and unpredictable capabilities. He takes any job that fits his fancy, alive or dead, in one piece, or just one piece.

New pictures. Imagine a little from column A, a little from column B.

No helmet though.

Image

Image
Regardez l'aventure à venir
Esse Eximius Ad Invicem
Bad Company, till the day I die.


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Re: Cyber Cape: content

Post by Jason » Thu Oct 03, 2013 6:32 pm

The underpass of the south bridge between The Old City and Hell’s Gate (as it was affectionately called by Metropolis’ residents) was a real piece of work. Decrepit architecture not updated since the 21st century arced over the water, connecting the island to the mainland. The city had completed a far more recent bridge further to the north, but never bothered to demolish the old one, making its vast pedestrian causeway under the cracking road top above a veritable highway for the scum that circle this city. Hell’s Gate was a lawless part of town, earning its name in earnest. Lone Star and even KGB stayed clear, preferring to sit around the bridge heads in St. Martin’s island and Old City districts. Gordon was hanging around the entrance to the decaying concrete and rebar structure, observing, but not acting. Scum with bounties on their heads passed him within arm’s reach every second, but his eyes were looking for one face particular. The gritty sound of dirt and sand beneath boots and shoes filled his ears, the shuffling and mumbling of addicts and abusers the chorus to accompany the dying lights that surrounded this artifact of a bygone century. Gordon kept his eyes on a swivel, cigarette changing sides in his mouth sporadically, like a cat’s tail when it’s watching its prey. Among the neon coloured hair and dodgy dress of the patrons around him, he spotted his man, or rather, woman. He pushed himself from the wall that he was leaning on with mock effort, grunting as he trudged forwards on her tail, hands in his coats pockets. He kept his distance as he had an eye locked on the back of her head, the other watching for possible danger. The audible sound of hissing quickly overcame the sound of the streets as sheet rain came pouring down; to which no one cared. Life went on, regardless of the water falling from above. His quarry turned a corner, which he rounded quickly after her. He got their just in enough time to see the woman enter behind a hefty looking steel door guarded by a large man in a black shirt and a scowl on his face. Gordon pursed his upper lip and sighed, walking towards the door bouncer with a defeated look on his face.

“What’cha want.” The bounder asked, gravel in his voice.
“I need’ta get inside, alright?” Kaplan answered.
“Oh yeah? Well that’s great.” The bouncer replied, sarcastic glee in tone

Kaplan frowned and furrowed his brow. Reaching inside his coat pocket, he stuffed his hand. The Bouncer jumped to attention and raised his hand; a soft ember-like glow emanating from his palm, the sizzle of rain drops accompanied the sight. Kaplan was intrigued and cocked an eyebrow, his ocular augments flashing a UI into his vision giving him the readouts and statistics on this Metahuman. He pulled his hand slowly from under the fold of his coat, another cigarette in hand to replace the one he just finished. He let the butt of the previous fall to the ground, and put the other in his mouth, touching the end of it to the man’s outstretched palm, lighting it quickly.

“Thanks Sparky, now lemme inside.” Kaplan retorted.

The bouncer glared at Gordon, and was about to say something incredulous when he noticed the sensation of cold metal under his chin. With a movement fast enough to make a light bulb blink, Gordon drew one of his P-33 pistols from its hip holster, pulled the hammer back and placed it under the Meta’s chin.

With a nervous gulp the bouncer opened the door and let Gordon pass; a whisper entered the Meta’s ears like a low rumble.

“Don’t be out here when I come back.”

To which the hard metal door closed, and the Bouncer dug his hands into his pockets, and then quickly moved into the bustling street ahead of him, getting lost in the crowd.

-----

Once inside, the low hanging smoke made looking deeper into the club neigh impossible. His eyes tried to adjust to the smoke, but even they couldn’t quite eliminate it entirely. He turned his head to the left and right, and proceeded to walk down the few steps into the club’s main floor. There was no thumping bass or screeching sirens, but rather, a low melody was hanging in the air, lazily making its way across the floor into the ears of the patrons. The small amber glow of dozens of cigarettes shone through the fog, alerting him to the whereabouts of all the patrons. Making his way to the bar, he sat down besides an unseen figure. Kaplan leaned heavily on the old-fashioned wooden bar, craning his neck lazily forward in an attempt to see the bartender.

“Hey, can I get some service down here or what?” He droned into the haze, half in good natured sarcasm, and half in literal meaning.

The bartender came strolling towards him, clearly in no hurry to serve him.

“Yeah?” Was the bartenders only response
“Agavé” Kaplan answered.

The bartender turned to face the wall of bottle behind him, carefully selecting one from head height and pouring its content into a small, but thick glass. He set the drink down on the bar, but didn’t remove his hand; he stared directly at Gordon’s face, looking for payment. Gordon put his hand around the bottom of the glass, and leaned in close so the tender could see his face. His facial tattoo bearing the Bounty Hunter ID was clear, and the bartender glared at Kaplan, but reluctantly removed his hand and walked back into the smoky distance. Pleased with himself, Gordon raised the glass to his lips when a velvety touch sent his arm hairs straight up. A feminine hand was protruding through the smoke, her nails well manicured and skin soft to the touch, quite the first impression. Gordon stopped a moment and smirked, taking a small sip of the tequila.

“Sometimes, I forget what a soft touch you can have...” Gordon quipped through his glass.

The hand moved across his arm to his shoulder as the figure rounded his body till she was right behind him, never breaking contact with him.

“Gordie baby, I know exactly what you mean.” The woman said, punctuating her words with a sharp, firm and arresting grasp on his shoulder was met with the sensation of cold steel.
She ducked her head into view; a head of shoulder length Red hair fell towards the ground as she smiled devilishly, a metallic arm visible on Gordon’s shoulder.

“Now, enough fooling around; there is time for that later. I came here on business.” Kaplan retorted, motioning towards her seat once more.
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Re: Cyber Cape: content

Post by Bone2pick » Fri Oct 04, 2013 1:56 pm

Of course the news networks spun together a story. All total there had been eleven casualties, and to my regret, the nightclub’s manager that I’d talked with was among those killed. They made sure to include that along with the masked gunmen, meta-humans had also been involved. But there was nothing being reported that could reliably pin me to the scene, which was a nice break in my favor. That also meant Lone Star was being tight lipped with the media, again another good thing for me.

To bring us up to date, forty eight hours have passed since the shooting at Pure Life, and now I’m killing time by going over my notes at Sidecar. That’s the name of the bar and lounge my dad manages, Sidecar Station, a favorite watering hole for a lot of the folks in north Queensland Park. I was sprawled out in a booth near the vintage pinball machines, one of which I had the high score on, with my bike helmet taking up the bench across from me. My backpack, computer tablet, and a half eaten turkey sandwich were spread around the table.

I had new information to work with. The murdering punk I’d captured at Pure Life gave up the goods on Barbarous. At first I was surprised how quickly he folded under the pressure, but after Kirk explained everything to me it made perfect sense. This lowlife had been involved in, or at least was believed to be involved in, two separated hits against the Cassamento mafia. Strike one was the casino job in Queensland Park, and strike two was at Pure Life. And I doubt I have to tell you that you don’t get three strikes with the mob. So all Lone Star had to do was threaten to stick this guy on Stryker’s Island, a prison where the Cassamentos currently have two dozen soldiers serving time, and then sit back and let the fear of getting whacked in jail turn this sucker into a rat. It worked like a charm.

The story he gave them, and it checked out pretty clean, was that before he turned into a monster Barbarous use to be an up-and-comer for the Cassamento family. His birth name was Noel Sacco, and he and a buddy of his named Joey Batters had just started putting their feet on the organized crime ladder. I’m talking small time work, stuff like deliveries, debt collection, but mostly they were just extra muscle. Anyway it all blew up in their face one night when Joey lost his cool and sent one young man to the hospital. That young man happened to be the son of Diamond Dvoskin, the boss of Metropolis’ largest Russian Mob. The Cassamentos didn’t want retaliation from that kind of heat and they figured it wasn’t worth protecting a pair of unranked troublemaking goons; so they went out and wacked their own guys. At least that was plan. They put a bullet through the chest and forehead of Noel and Joey and then tossed their meat bodies in a dumpster. But as we know that wasn’t the end of it. Joey passed on to the next life but Noel stuck around. Unbeknownst to anyone he had been undergoing internal changes, meta-human changes, for a few days before he managed to get himself shot. He was eventually brought to a hospital by a Good Samaritan but he stormed out of the ICU before the Cassamentos could ever track him down and clean up their mistake. The rest is history, he kept changing into the killer that we know, and now it looks like he’s surfaced in order to get revenge. The question is, just how far does he plan to go?

Kirk thinks all the way. Last night he was nice enough to break it all down for me over the phone. He said Barbarous could have already went directly after Paul Cassamento, the boss of his former family, and most likely caught him with his pants down. But now after two attacks it’s safe to assume Big Paul has loaded up on protection. He probably has every soldier on the payroll pulling overtime to watch over him and his household. Thing is, that’s exactly what Kirk thinks Barbarous wants; and I’m inclined to believe him. If it is revenge that’s his ultimate goal, what better way than all-out war? You build up fear, you gather everyone who betrayed you, and then you bury them all together.

“Business or pleasure?”

I looked up and saw dad smiling down at me. He was in his usual Sidecar polo and he put a glass of orange juice in front me while he waited for answer. I nodded my appreciation for the drink, dad knew I wasn’t big on alcohol, and returned his smile.

“A little of both.”

He played along and fixed a look at me that I’d seen a million times growing up. A familiar expression that mocked me while at the same time amused him.

“Oh yeah, what’s her name?”

We shared a small laugh and then I shook my head with playful sorrow.

“Unfortunately it’s not a her. Actually it’s just something Kirk and I are working on.”

I didn’t like lying to dad so I was often forced to get fairly creative with the truth. I wasn’t above a bold face cover story though, but thankfully he didn’t press the issue. He ran one of his hands through his salt and pepper hair before he continued.

“I’m stuck here for another hour and then I’m heading to the house.”

I looked around the table at all my stuff and then back at him.

“Yeah I’m about to wrap everything up and head home. I’ll see you there.”

We waved our goodbyes and then he went back to work. I took a sip of my orange juice and pulled the notes back up on my tablet. I was organizing all the details when I noticed I forgot to log some key dates. I fumbled my phone out of my pants pocket and sent Kirk an inquiring text. It was right around the time I was finishing my drink when I noticed Kirk had text me back. I went to work logging the dates into my notes when one of them jumped out at me. I did a double take at Kirk’s text, and then checked it against my phone’s calendar to be sure. Tonight was the anniversary of Barbarous’ shooting.
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Re: Cyber Cape: content

Post by Jason » Sat Oct 05, 2013 3:30 pm

Gordon had found who he was looking for, one of his many informants. This charming young lady was Bella, a North Ridge girl who found herself in a world of trouble, and paid the price. She was an attractive enough gal, muted natural red hair, athletic build and a confident stride… and a sleek piece of tech hanging from her shoulder in the form of a prosthetic. Kaplan had been on a raid of a local small-time gang when he found Bella bound and gagged in their dingy basement they called a home. He wasn't there to save her, he didn't even know she was there, nor did he care what a dumb hood-rat had gotten herself into. He went about his business, found the bounty and iced him on the spot, no mucking about. As he walked back out of the basement, he could hear her calling to him through the gag in her mouth. Kaplan had waited in the door for a good long five seconds before he sighed and hung his head; drawing his knife from its place on his back. Freeing her, he tried to cut her torrent of appreciation short when one of the goons made his opinion on the matter. Apparently not quite dead, his gift to the pair was a home-made explosive primed and ready to say hello. Kaplan had scooped up this young girl in an attempt to shield her but she had dove for the explosive to try and toss it. She pulled it off, at the cost of her right arm’s functionality, and some tasteful scars. That was 4 years ago, and she had proven quite useful for him in that time. They had a mutual agreement; she got the medical attention from KGB free of charge, and she was his informant for life.

“Long time no see Mr. Kaplan, I thought you had forgotten about me.” She said slyly, finishing her words with a wink.
“Yeah, Yeah, no need to play around, alright? Like I said before, I’m here on business, Bella.” Kaplan retorted, rolling his eyes slightly.
Her smile changed from a coy and playful crease to a solemn pair of closed lips as she nodded. “You’re gonna like this.” She said. “A couple of my guys have said they tracked down his operations HQ, see. He’s working out of Tealboro in Hell’s Gate. They say he’s got a coupl’a good Metas on his payroll, but other than that, just some regular hood chumps.”
“Metas eh?” Kaplan spoke rhetorically, taking a thoughtful drag of his cigarette. “Well, shouldn't be any different unless he’s got class 4 Muties, but I doubt he’d have anyone that powerful.” Removing his cigarette, Kaplan took another sip of his tequila and then promptly returned it to his mouth. “Well Bella my dear, you've done well.”
“As usual.” She quipped.
“As usual.” Kaplan affirmed; taking a small vial and auto-injector from a pouch on his vest and placing it in her outstretched prosthetic.
“Thank you, Gordon.” She replied, heartfelt appreciation in her voice.

Not a moment had passed as she tucked the synthesizer away had the heavy metal door slammed open to the torrenting rain outside, a lone silhouette framed in the doorway. The smoke began to rush out, clearing the bar of its protective haze as patrons began heckling the man to close to door. Their angry comments were quickly silences as men began to rush in the doorway, guns in hand. The screams of pain and the roar of gunfire erupted as Gordon was already diving behind the bar with Bella in tow.

“Kaplan! I know you’re here! “ A voiced shouted above the sporadic gunfire.
“What, no ‘come out and turn yourself in’?” Kaplan shouted from behind the bar, checking his weapons.
“Hell no! You think I’m stupid enough to keep you around while you are alive?” The voice remarked, laughing.

Gunfire erupted once more, peppering the bar with bullets and shattered glass as broken bottles began raining down upon the duo. Bella had drawn a semi-automatic pistol that Kaplan supplied her years ago. It was a reliable thing; didn't jam, was lightweight and concealable. She racked the slide and nodded to Gordon, who was slamming home a full magazine into his P-33’s. They rose in unison, Gordon with a pistol in each hand, Bella with hers in a tight shooting stance. They returned fire in a spectacular opening, diving across the bar, spraying death across the room and forcing the gunmen to take cover behind upturned tables and in booths. Kaplan had been tapping the triggers calmly and rhythmically, sending two-shot bursts into the dark room. He was rewarded with some gurgling cries as the bullets hit home. He thought about saying some witty remark, but instead he just blind fired over the table he was sitting behind. That was good enough, he thought. He spotted Bella, who was stealthily hidden in the shadows of a column, reloading. He nodded towards her, motioning to exit through the back door. She nodded back, and slipped out towards the rear exit in retreat. Kaplan holstered his pistols and drew his revolver. He opened the top break, checking the 6 rounds in the cylinder, and snapped it shut. Accessing the targeting augments within his brain and eyes, he stood up from behind the table. The targeting computations took milliseconds as he fanned the hammer on his revolver with his good hand, letting the augmented one do the aiming. 5 Shots fired off almost sounded like one as 5 men dropped, large chest cavities emptying them of their will to live. A whimper and some scampering was all that was left as the main assailant made a break for the door. Kaplan began sprinting after him, rolling through the doorway into the rain, quickly scanning the alleyway for his prey. A running man caught his attention as he closed an eye, taking careful aim with his last shot. He squeezed the trigger, sending the bullet straight and true, through the running man’s leg just above the knee. Standing up, Gordon pulled the break-action of his revolver open, sending the empty casings into the air and to the ground around him. A quick reload and a snap shut left his weapon under his arm once again as he walked towards his feverishly crawling, and bleeding, quarry.
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Re: Cyber Cape: content

Post by Tuomir » Sat Oct 05, 2013 9:44 pm

[Name]Subject x-0335
[Alias/persona]Storm Crow
[Gender]Male
[Age]20
[Height]5,3'
[Weight]138 lbs
[Hair] Black, long, bald at the left side.
[Eyes] Green, right eyelid loose.
[Facial description] Rough and asymmetrical.
[Body type] Thin, malnourished but relatively strong.

[Wardrobe/costume]A leather coat with straps hanging from the sleeves, green military breeches.
[Weapons] A long knife.
Image

[Skills & talents] Knife fighting, urban survivalism.
[Powers (if applicable)] Uncontrollably causes bad luck to those around himself, particularly to anyone threatening, causing accidents of various decree.
[Weaknesses] Can't control his power.

[Personality traits] Extremely antisocial and hates other people.
[Motivations] Only concerned about his own survival.

[Character bio]There are many urban legends going around Metropolis. One of them tells of a research facility where kids with powers were taken to be studied. And it wasn't just studying, the story tells, it was experimentation too. But, after a few years of operating, strange accidents started occurring around the facility. A guard slipped and fell of a balcony, a doctor cut his finger and died of infection. Eventually, the facility was abandoned, the equipment was shipped of to different location, the experimentations continuing elsewhere, all the subjects moved along - all but one. One was left, for no one wanted to take the cursed brat who was blamed for all the accidents. Or, so the story tells, but who believes in urban legends anyways?
Rank & Fail

"Tuomir, you're made of win" -ranger
"Tumor is just plain retarted. Tuomir is cooler than that" -jackmrnorris94
"Tuomir has proven his brilliance in this scenario" -The Airman

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