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zackrobbman

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zackrobbman last won the day on June 20

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About zackrobbman

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    Devotee

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    With all the force of a great, typhoon! BE A MAN! Get it? No?....I'm a guy.
  • Location
    Loserville
  • Interests
    Nothing I'd fight too hard for, and that is very depressing.
  • Occupation
    Quality Control Auto Body Technician....I'm a detailer....I clean cars.

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  1. I'm goin off the Infamous 2 Karma system, meaning that only executions will result in bad karma. Beware though, since that's not the only way to get bad karma.🧐 There are many other ways, all of them involving a disregard for life.
  2. @Kingofgames12 - LEO Eliza watched Leo take out the two guards nervously, waiting for something to go wrong and force her to run and hide. Being at the epicenter of the group of men that'd ruined her life sent chills up her spine. She didn't want to be here, but returning was a sure death sentence. Contrary to what she'd expected from the young conduit, Leo was able to handle the two guards with a deftness that indicated some experience. What confused her though, was that he didn't pull out a knife and slut their throats. It would've been easier and quicker. The only sounds he'd have to worry about would be the gurgling and pitter patter of droplets. He wouldn't have to get in a scuffle. She was certain he had the strength to do much worse with a knife, but he chose to handle the situation non-lethally. Why? Didn't he know what these men were like? What'd they'd done? He then pointed to the two guns on the ground beside the two unconscious guards. Eliza froze, staring at the weapons. She hadn't held a gun since she was a little girl. A gang member tried to teach her how to wield one so that his ,"C*** sleeve could protect herself.". It sounded cruel, but he was just putting on a front for the other gang members, telling them all that she was his so that they wouldn't make a move on her. His name was Bosco, and he'd raised her like a daughter after she was taken from her mother. Looking at the weapons on the ground drudged up painful memories of the man and what'd happened to him. She didn't want to hold the gun, but she also knew that if Bosco were here, he wouldn't advise her to let his training go to waste. She walks over and grabs a rifle, examining it to see if she could remember how to use it effectively as she followed Leo through the door. The room they entered was big, filled with dozens of large crates with black tarps tied over them. A few of them were open, revealing gun caches filled with weaponry not native to the slums. At the center of it all looked to be a large truck with tons of glowing, blue, lights dotting it all around the exterior. The power relay. Several armed men stood around it, one of them trying to fit something over his forearm. Eliza immediately hid behind a nearby crate, the sound of the gunfire and shouting outside the building muffling her and Leo's movements. "Who you think it is out there, Kev'?" said one of the men who was grabbing clips out of a nearby cache and securing them to his belt. "Don't matter, Teej." answered Kev, who was messing around with the device on his wrist. "They's shootin' at someone out dere', meaning we can retaliate however the hell we want. Might be that runaway conduit." "You gonna try that...what is that thing?" asked Teej, securing his last clip as he pointed at the odd device on Kev's wrist. "A receiver, dumb***." snarled Kev' the device on his wrist beginning to activate. "It's what the dupes use to copy a conduits powers and stuff. All ya' gotta' do is activate it within a mile of its assigned relay and..." Kev grunted as he felt the receiver synching up with his nervous system, the small, glass, LED display on the device flashing the words, 'Processing Host Identification'. A loading bar was filling up below it, indicating how much time it would take for the device to recognize him as a D.U.P agent. Before it could completely fill, however, it vanished and the words, 'Verification Complete' replaced the words that'd been there before. Kev stopped grunting, the pain in his arm and head subsiding. "THERE we go!" exclaimed Kev as he held the futuristic gauntlet up before the other members. "Hacked. Just like they said it'd be." After gawking at his new toy for a few more seconds, he flicked the equipped hand upwards. A ball of flame flashed into existence almost immediately above his hand, levitating mid-air as the flickering light danced in his dark, soulless eyes. "Man," said Kev as he closed his fist, causing the ball of fire to vanish. "I gotta show this to Pop and Ty!" With those words, he started walking towards the door Leo and Eliza had moved through, intending to show his new gear to his two, now unconscious, friends outside. Eliza tensed, realizing that he'd see them if he reached the door. She looked over to Leo, her hands gripping her gun even tighter.
  3. Been meaning to ask you, guy.... What in same hill does isekai mean? I've seen it in your posts quite a few times and was only able to derive a negative connotation from the context it was used in. Is it a different language?
  4. Charlie half-expected some kind of magical barrier to be protecting her. It was like Zack always said: STOP JUST THROWING FIRE AT EM'! ALL MAGIC PEOPLE HAVE MAGICAL SHIELDS, IDIOT! And once again, he was right. His attacks were not meant to be lethal, but the way they harmlessly cascaded off her barrier was not a good sign either. As he was falling back to the ground, he saw a single arrow flying towards the queen. Charlie started to laugh, but stopped when the arrow hit its mark. It sent out a massive shockwave that sent the queen to the black, sludgy, ground. "The f*** was that s***?!" he muttered to himself as his feet landed, splashing up more sludge. It had just been a singular arrow, yet the force seemed to be the same as a full-momentum charge from a large...elephant. Charlie turned his head to look at Surus, wondering why it was there and how it hadn't, actually died yet. Charlie would've asked the archer next to it how he'd done what he did, but even his arrow seemed to be ineffective. "This is gonna be annoying." said Charlie as he ignited his hands once again in anticipation of the larvae approaching him and the others. He preferred to save his energy, but he currently seemed to have no choice. He'd seen what small rats could do in large numbers if angry enough. These were much bigger than the rats he was used to. Just before he could lash out, though, his eyes fell on Sheryl like a hawk spotting a meal after years of hunger. "Almost.....just a little more got-dammit!" Charlie muttered, his body frozen in anticipation as he waited for another larvae to eat away the fabric keeping her breast and buttocks hidden from the world. His attention was completely taken away from the incoming swarm of death, the larvae less than a yard away. Before they could latch on and bore holes through his person, Charlie felt a wrenching sensation in his mind. He saw visions of dark caverns with slimy, black, pods hanging from the ceiling. Soon after, he was shown that these pods were encasing him and the others, all of them looking pained and in agony. Already confused, the vision moved on into a different cavern. This one featured more pods, except the doppelgangers inside these were not human in appearance. They looked like giant insects with their faces. The one with Charlies' face was engulfed in a layer of flames, as if mimicking his abilities. Nearby, he saw other insectoids attacking Ed and Ilene. Fidelitas lie unconscious on the ground amongst the chaos, giving Charlie a small sense of satisfaction. Where's that fightin' spirit, hero-guy? thought Charlie as the vision faded. "HOOO!" Charlie yelped, jumping back from the wall of snapping larvae less than an inch in front of him. Although he was unaware, a barrier erected by one of Fredericks orbs had saved his life, holding off the swarm and allowing Charlie to see just how many of them there were. It was like a sea. A sea of tiny things that wanted to kill you extra hard. He watched as they piled up against fredericks' barrier, snapping and wriggling violently. Charlie knew he didn't have enough heat to stay alive more than a few seconds if it were to suddenly break, so he got to thinking about something Mikey had been trying to teach him back home. It was extremely risky and was likely to fail due to the barrier and his poor learning skills, but he didn't have a choice. So he approached the wall, hands out. "Listen, hive-lord, bug-chick!" yelled Charlie as he placed his hands up against the straining barrier, his palms less than an inch from the hungry larvae snapping at him from the other side. "It doesn't have to be this way!" He looked towards her above the rising wall of larvae. "This ain't the way! There's other ways to procreate, babe!" Charlie felt the body-heat of the larvae on the other side of the shield, concentrating on each heat signature as best he could. "I promise that if you stop tryin' ta' kill us and tell your...worm-things to go away, I will show you the best way to make babies!" Charlie grit his teeth as he forced himself to keep talking and lock on to seemingly hundreds of heat-signatures. "It's a lot easier....and," Charlie strained to find his words as focused. "Better feelin'...than this!" Steeling his resolve with his fixation on what Sheryl would look like naked if they lived through this, Charlie exhaled and took in a massive gulp of air through gritted teeth. Immediately, the heat from all the larvae in front of him was sapped away until there was none, freezing them solid from the inside out. Charlie felt heat returning to him as the larvae met their icy graves in an expanding wave. Any larvae that touched a frozen one received a similar fate, making the ice grow like a wild-fire. "DAAAGH!" Charlie yelped, his pain threshold being capped off after only a few seconds. He wrenched his hands away, both of them now shaking and so frozen that visible gases descended from them like dry ice. He growled in agony as he tried not to pass out from the pain, willing heat into his hands. As the ice faded from them, the larvae further out began to climb over the frozen ones, no longer affected by the heat-sapping wave once Charlie broke the link. Charlie fell to his knees, clenching his teeth as he watched the ice recede up to his fingers. "T-T-There we...g-go!" he smiled as he got back to his feet, still hunched over from the grating pain. "A-And, now...". Charlie raised a single, shaking, hand, as if to snap his fingers. He seemed to be really straining to do so, apparently using all the strength he had just to raise his arm and put his fingers together. The strain caused the area around him to heat up significantly in a large area, making the air shimmer like the inside of an oven. I was nearly hot enough to make one pass out. "It's....t-t-t-t-time....to..." He fell to the floor in an unconscious heap, the frigid pain too much for him. Ice began to reform on his body is small, thin, patches, indicating that he'd obviously messed up somewhere. He'd need medical attention, and if Fredericks shield gave way to allow the sludge to cascade back over him...well...hopefully his team had his back.
  5. "Oh. Well...that's good." nodded Zack, wondering if he should believe their intentions. He'd thought all magic users were completely insane due to, like this one, several bad run-ins with them in the past. They tended to couple dishonesty with their lack of sanity, so it took some effort for him to realize that they had little reason to lie and that their plan was sound. Somewhat. Getting out of the city without being killed was already a long-shot, but forming a resistance? Getting the Terran empire to jump in and give them a hand? What next? Were they going open a magic academy and have him be the principal? "Not necessary." Zack said with a dismissive wave. "Like I said earlier, I'm not even supposed to be here and have no interest in this stupid war. And, like I also said earlier, we were trying to call for peace. Why would I help do that if my goal was to harm you in any way?" As soon as he'd finished his sentence, he felt something numb and tingly within his mind, similar to the sensation you'd get when blood rushes into a sleeping limb. He started to remember things that had never happened to him. People that he'd never met. Pain that he'd never felt. Pleasure he'd never felt. But he was conscious that these memories weren't his. They were Val's, and with each one he recalled, they began to vanish, as if his own consciousness were engulfing them into a permanent void of annihilation. "Oh, boy..." he said nervously, staring at the ground as he recalled the last time he'd been body swapped. "Uhh, who's....you. Me. Val." he said, pointing at the woman inhabiting his body. "You gotta' switch me back!" Zack could feel his own consciousness being pulled, likely back to it's original dwelling place. Val would be experiencing a similar pull, but it wouldn't be as painless as Zacks. Her head would begin to throb as visions of an endless abyss flooded her mind. It would just keep getting darker, blacker, and deeper with every second that passed. The emptiness she felt would begin to claw at her sanity, something otherworldly trying to worm it's way up. Something was at the bottom of the abyss...staring back at her. Noticing her. "I dunno' if you're feelin' anything right now," said Zack, his voice becoming more frantic as more of Val's memories began to vanish. "But I can't control that. I'm not sure why it happens, but you gotta switch me back! I promise I won't do anything-" Zack caught movement out his peripheral by the door. One of the soldiers standing guard outside by the entrance was looking inside, a confused look on his face. Zack lowered his voice and leaned forward, hoping that the Norkotian would just think he was insane or trying to make up a fib to get set free. "I promise I won't blow your cover or anything." he whispered, still feeling the soldiers eyes on him. "I'll even help you guys get outta' here." Zack realized that it looked like he was pleading, but it wasn't for his own life. Or maybe it was. If she went nuts inside his body, there was a high chance of her killing everyone in the room or even trying to kill herself. Which would then kill him? He didn't want to find out. What he did want to figure out was why the process was happening so quickly. It'd only been about two minutes since the swap. Why had it- He looked down and noticed he was nervously clenching his fist. This accompanied with a familiar, comforting, sensation helped him come up with a theory that was both relieving and unnerving. His shield was near. Clive watched the mercenary emerge from the darkness, sighing and shaking his head Clive regarded the man with a bored expression, confused as to what the merc' was doing. Surely he noticed that Clive was only using one arm to carry the Guardsman while his other was holding his peacekeeper? Surely he was aware that Clive was facing him? Had he not seen how fast his friends had been gunned down? Did he think that just because he couldn't fan the hammer of his gun that he wouldn't be fast enough to raise his forearm a few inches to get off one shot? Clive figured that the combination of drugs and injuries he'd sustained had made him delirious. A strong desire to undermine someone else usually didn't help either. Clive would know. Hell, he could probably write the book on vengeance and foolish pride. Clive continued to stare at him, realizing that the mercenary was choosing to go out with a bang. Clive was ready to oblige, but someone else beat him to the punch. The shot that rang out made him jump a little, since he instinctually thought that someone else had fired at him. He realized just as quickly that this wasn't the case, though it almost was. Blood dripped down from the exit wound on the mercenary's forehead, the bullet having blasted clean though and into the steps less than a foot from Clives knee. The mercenary fell dead, and Clive scanned the darkness behind him, fixating his eyes on the spot where the flash had come from. Back in his younger days, he would have just aimed and pulled the trigger, but he also knew that his younger self was among the stupidest human beings to have ever existed. Just an angry boy looking for a vent. The shooter had killed the merc, the near-mishap with Clive's knee just being an accident. He followed the sound of the shooters footsteps with his eyes, realizing that they were headed away from him. But to where? "Hm." Clive grunted before another gunshot silenced the remaining mercenary. He watched as Krieger emerged from the shadows, covered in blood. Clive couldn't see any large wounds on him, so he figured the army-man had been busy doing what he did best. He pitied the merc's that encountered him. "So far." answered Clive in an equally dry tone as he raised his shoulder to adjust the Guardsman's body. Clive narrowed his eyes at the colonel, wanting to say something back. And he would have had he been ten years younger and stupider, but he chose not to. When he really thought about it, the area appeared to clear of hostile forces and carrying the soldier wasn't going to fix his wounds. If anything, the short amount of time he had been carrying him might've made his condition worse. "Whatever you say mister benefactor." smiled Clive as he trudged up the steps and carefully set the guardsman down near the hole in the wall. They still had some fighting to do and Clive knew there was no point to carrying around an injured man while doing it. He just had to hope he didn't bleed out or get picked off by some straggling mercenary. "So..." said Clive, turning back around to face Krieger. "How we gettin' up there without getting turned into cottage chee-" A loud Clang made Clive jump again, the cowboy whirling around to point his gun up at the source. The barrel of his revolver settled on a shiny, circular, object now embedded in the brick wall high up in the building across the street. "Yer' *****in' me..." breathed Clive as he lowered his gun. "Is that-" Shortly afterwards, an open back-pack plummeted to the street, most of it's contents hitting the ground before it did. Clive's eyes narrowed on the back-pack, recognizing it. "That's the punks'." he said under his breath. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, he stared up into the sky and looked both ways on the street before jogging over to the heavy-duty back-pack. He knelt down to pick it up, dumping the rest of its contents on the ground. Most of it was stuff he couldn't begin to explain or recognize, but he'd expected that. "C'mon, c'mon, where is it?" he muttered to himself. Finally, he saw it. A metallic syringe fell to the ground and rolled to his feet. "Bingo." Picking up the syringe, he jogged back inside the building and pressed a button on the side of it. A thin needled slowly protruded from it's bottom, a greenish glow coming from light bellow the button. Clive wasted no time in jamming the syringe into the Guardsman's neck, injecting the solider with billions of tiny nanites infused with a strange energy. Almost immediately, the veins in his neck began to emit a greenish glow beneath the skin, the rest of his body doing the same shortly afterwards. Clive watch the Guardsman's fingers begin to grow back sinew by sinew, the hole in his stomach closing up in a similar manner after pushing the bullet out. "...Damn!" he exclaimed as the greenish light faded from the soldiers body, the Guardsman's wounds now completely healed. "What is that stuff?" he said to himself, staring at the empty syringe in the Guardsman's neck. Before he could go over to check the elite soldiers pulse and possibly get a knife in his neck, something like the sound of on an airplane flying extremely low made him freeze and look outside. "That one'a yours?" he asked, the question being directed at Krieger. "Hm." chuckled the Tin Man. He'd gotten that line from many people, as if the term 'Mercenary' was an offensive slang of sorts. To him, anyone willing to cause harm to another human being for any sum of money was a mercenary, point, blank, and simple. There wasn't any need to overcomplicate it. He noticed that people tended to do that, overcomplicate things. These days, a thief wasn't a thief anymore. A murderer wasn't a murderer. A liar wasn't a liar. All of them were only desperate or mentally ill. The offenders and the world around them refused to believe they were capable and willing to commit evil, always covering it up with tolerance, understanding, or even indifference. The Tin Man didn't bother with justifications. He didn't try to smother his sins in layers of excuses, as if that would make them go away. He was about to shrug and take aim at Mara with his wrist cannons when she spoke up again. "Successful entrepreneur? Economic climate?" chuckled the Tin Man again. "It's not that complicated sweety'. But I'm glad you've got enough brains to know a good deal." A faint noise from above caught the mercenary's attention. He looked up and to his right, his visor scanning the gloomy clouds for the source. It had sounded like an explosion, only very faint and muffled. He had no units that far out in the sky, so he genuinely didn't know what it was. "That one'a yer' planes, Ty-" The Tin Man quickly leaned back, almost losing his balance as the incoming object glanced off of his helmet, forming a sharp groove in it. A loud clang echoed throughout the area when the object embedded itself into a nearby building. The Tin Man quickly regained his footing before he aimed his wrist cannons up into the direction the object had come from, the other mercenaries doing the same. The only exception was Korzuc, who kept his eyes trained in the same direction they'd been before. They waited for something else to come down, but nothing did. Confused, the Tin Man turned his head to look at the object embedded in the building across the street, his visor zooming in on it. "Son of a b****." he muttered to himself. "That's...that's that f***in' kid's!" exclaimed one of the other mercs', his expression growing furious. "Since when can he fly?" asked another merc', his expression fearful. "He can't." answered the Tin Man, typing something into the now lit visor on his gauntlet as Zack's backpack fell out of the sky shortly afterwards. He then stopped and looked at the visor for a bit, as if waiting for something. "...I got'cha now, punk." said the mercenary under his breath before turning the visor off and looking at Tynes. "Seems I'll no longer be needing your cooperation, executor." Thrusters on his back and beneath his feet ejected a bright, light, blue energy, slowly propelling him off the ground and sending out a noticeable gust of wind. "Which brings me to my next point. Mercer? Kill the executor." said the Tin Man with a bit too much mirth. "Korzuc? Make sure she does. If she doesn't in the next minute, kill her." With that, the Tin Man's thrusters powered up and he zoomed away from them. Korzuc turned to face Mara, his lifeless eyes staring at her expectantly.
  6. "Right, right." Clive chuckled. "Sorry. Memory ain't so great at times." And he wasn't kidding. Seventy percent of the reason women turned him down was his inconveniently short-termed memory. Specifically when he was drunk, but also when he was thinking about getting drunk. It was a common trait amongst veteran alcoholics, which Ashley didn't seem to share. Yet she'd gotten so wasted that she couldn't recall the previous night or how she'd gotten there? Clive silently sniffed the air as he pretended to scratch his mustache. As he predicted, he couldn't smell any alcohol coming from the woman. Whether it be from the pores or the mouth, the scent of alcohol tends to get through pretty easily. For instance, one would be able to tell Clive was a hopeless alcoholic the moment he entered any building. But maybe she did smell like alcohol and he'd just gotten so used to his own scent that he couldn't recognize it coming off of other people? He noticed the playful smile she had as she examined him. He mentally gulped, hoping that she wasn't sizing him up for a night in the sack. Many female bounty hunters and mercenaries, given their natural charms, had a high success rate with their marks. Didn't matter how big, tough, or scary the target was when you had the sufficient lack of self-respect to swoon a knife into their neck. Clive could remember several occasions where he met such women, and nearly all of them had gotten within an inch of his jugular with a blade before getting their brains blown out. Despite the close call, the most traumatic part of the experience was having to shoot a woman. It just never felt right, no matter the circumstance. Clive chuckled a little at his own paranoia, tipping his head to hide his eyes with his hat as he did. "Observant type, aint'cha? No need to worry." he said, giving her a warm smile that betrayed the blackness in his eyes as he shook his head. "I doubt I'm either of them things to you. And even if I was, I sure as sugar is sweet wouldn't buy you dinner first. Not sure if you could tell but," Clive gestured to himself and his raggedy clothing. Everything he wore from the Stetson on his head to the cuffs of his pants showed signs of damage poorly concealed by crude stich marks. Even his skin was rugged, looking almost as leathery as his coat. "I'm not exactly rollin' in the dough these days." he laughed, pulling the pockets out of his coat. "Although I probably would if I didn't drink so much damned alco-" Clive's eyes flicked to the bar behind Ashley, locking onto the figure standing behind the counter. The bartender he'd talked to earlier was gone now, replaced by the cook he'd seen in the kitchen. He'd been eyeballing Ashley until Clive glanced his way, and the look he was giving her was even more unfriendly than the first time. Clive turned his head to look out the window. A group of men outside the building across the street quickly turned their heads away, Clive's eyes passing over them in false casualness. They were all dressed warmly, trying to have the appearance of a group of men having a smoke break. Clive was able to catch the brief, metallic, glint of a gun holstered inside one of their coats when one of them pretended to laugh at something. Clive's expression changed from a friendly one to a look of lazy irritation, his eyes not focusing on anything in particular. "Don't look." Clive said, turning away from the window and leaning his head down to scratch the back of his head. "Bartender at the counter's been givin' you the stink eye. Guys out the window was doin' the same. Wasn't there a minute ago, and I'm pretty sure they're armed." Clive raised his head to smile at her, once again spotting the cook turn his head away out of his peripheral. "You sure you don't know anyone in this town, Ashley?"
  7. "Hunh!" Clive chuckled, shaking his head. "Not sure where ya' heard that one." He stared at the cook, becoming more suspicious of him with each passing second. Other employees came through the door at random intervals, allowing him to get a glimpse of the cooks full form. He really was big, the clothes he wore barely fitting his muscular body. It almost looked like they weren't his clothes to begin with, but that thought didn't add up with how deft he was while cooking. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing and no one was batting an eye at him, as if he'd worked there for years. Perhaps he had, and Clive was just being paranoid. Maybe he'd been eyeing Ashely to see if she appeared to be bothered by Clive's presence. The thought wasn't far-fetched, since Clive's general visage and crude mannerisms often gave people the wrong idea. Well, perhaps not wrong, per se'. Clive turned to see Ashley gazing out of the window. He followed her gaze with his eyes, a little surprised by what he saw. The snow was coming down much harder than it'd been when he arrived, the wind now having a faint whistle outside the restaurant as it whipped against the building. Passerby's outside held their coats close to their bodies as they tried to shield their eyes from the snow. It was odd, since he could remember the sun shinning through the window less than an hour ago. Had the white-out really moved in that quickly? "Sure does." said Clive as he adjusted his worn, dark-brown, leather coat over his shoulders. "Been cold for a couple days now, but it ain't came down like this yet." Raising an eyebrow in sudden realization, he turned to look at Ashley. She wore only a thin yellow shirt, brown trousers, and an old Stetson. Nothing that could really protect her from the cold. He looked around her and even eyed nearby tables for a coat or scarf, but found none. Surely, if she'd been telling him the truth, she hadn't been running around town in the freezing cold without something to protect her from the elements. "Where's yer' coat, ma'am?" he asked, his eyebrow still raised. "Leave it somewhere?"
  8. Clive gave her a small smile, glad that she wasn't the type of woman to make his kindness a chore. He half-expected her to ask him dozens of question on what the dish was, but she seemed to be the simple type. Simple types were also prone to be to-the-point, but she'd yet to ask him why he'd even bothered talking to her. This was a bit suspicious, but not enough for him to let it show. Patience could crumble a nation. Or at least that's what his old gang leader use to always say when he was trying not to be embarrassed about making passes at the same girl for a year with no result. When the waiter came by shortly afterwards to take their orders, he asked her how she wanted her steak cooked and gave a peculiar answer. The occasion calls for it? thought Clive looking at her with nod. What had she meant by that? Was she that thrilled about being treated to a good meal by some stranger that smelled like an alcohol refinery? Or was she being coy? Clive casually looked out of a nearby window as he slowly drummed his fingers on the table. His eyes remained calm as the search the area outside of the restaurant for any suspicious looking characters. Was this woman setting him up? Did she know him and have some sort of vendetta? He'd killed plenty of husbands, brothers, and fathers throughout his life, so it wasn't completely out of the picture for this woman to be someone he widowed. He wondered if the special occasion was his death. It was for quite a few people, especially the ones putting out a price on his head in the Underground. Putting a mark out in the open was often the easiest way to kill men like him. If they were fast enough. Ashley asked the waiter what kind of wine would go good with the steak and the employee mouthed off some fancy beverage he'd never heard of. Like her, he was never really big into wine, probably because he seldom memorized the name of anything that didn't have him piss drunk within the hour. She gave the waiter no further inquiries as he finished taking her order, solidifying the notion that she wasn't a picky woman. Clive turned his head away from the window to address the waiter, trying not to crack a smile at his getup now that he was looking at it up close. "Ya'll got ground beef with garlic?" Clive asked with a shrug. "Grass fed if'n ya' got it." The waiter stared at Clive for a bit as if waiting for the cowboy to bust out laughing, but Clive yielded nothing more than raised eyebrow. "Y-Yes, sir." said the waiter, jotting the order down. "Anything else?" "If ya' wouldn't mind," began Clive, briefly glancing at the bar. "Could I get the strongest beverage ya'll got? One's at the bar remind me'a water." "I'll...see what I can do." nodded the waiter, obviously not used to the serving people like Clive. "Much obliged." nodded Clive with a smile. With that, the waiter took Clive's menu and left to attend to his new duties, no doubt getting ready to mouth off to his workmates about a savage man with a gun wanting to get drunk in their high-end restaurant. Clive's eyes followed him until he entered the kitchen, where, upon the thin door being pushed open, Clive saw what looked like a unusually stocky cook staring at them over his shoulder. Hard. It was the kind of look you'd give someone when you were daydreaming about gutting them from grin to groin. He wasn't even paying any heed to the food on the stove in front of him, his hands and body as still as a rock. The cook turned his head the instant Clive made eye contact with him and that's why he was able to notice that the cook hadn't been staring at him before their eyes met. He'd been staring at Ashley. "So..." Clive said, his eyes glued to the back of the cooks head through the circular window in the door. "You know anybody round' these parts, Ashley?"
  9. That's like....a nightmare for me. I'd just start screaming and running around.
  10. Oh dear. Oh my.🤣 I'm not sure I'd go anywhere in Valucre. There's magic everywhere. If I ever actually ended up there...(here?) I'd probably spend my every waking moment trying to get the hell out. And if I couldn't leave, I'd spend my every waking moment trying to literally punch the magic out of people using sheer willpower and paranoid determination. You ain't gone' magic me foo'! I'll punch you so hard that you'll never be able to watch a Disney movie for the rest of your life!
  11. *writes post*

    *Post get three likes*

    *Notices that another persons previous post got all superlikes*

    Me: ….Wait....was my post bad? 

    Evil Me: Your posts annoy people! Regular likes can only ever mean that they didn't deem your work worthy of anything more than being noticed! People don't enjoy writing with you! You should stop writing and wallow in pathetic self pity! 

    Me:....That sounds kinda' boring though. I think I'm just being paranoid. They probably just didn't think it was worth a whole bunch'a praise, which is fine.

    Evil Me: No! People hate you! Your writing sucks! There are no good people! No one appreciates anything you do! Everyone is selfish and  evil and you should assimilate to get back at them! The government watches you through your computer! The CIA planted a chip in your brain to brainwash you into killing their enemies! Aliens abducted you when you were nine and wiped your memory! There's poison in all the food people give you! The lizard people wait for you to come outside at night! Your neighbors are government agents that were hired to watch you! Your life is wrong! Trust no one! *pulls out gun and cocks it* Not even yourself!

    Me: Why do you have a gun?

    Evil Me:....I don't know.

  12. Charlie's perceptive capabilities were heavily marred by the rage he felt after being killed by 'Tim'. All he could see as he soared towards the robot, his fist raised and charged with explosive energy, was a target. A debt that needed to repaid with interest. As soon as he was in range, he brought his fist forward with as much strength and energy as he could. There was the usual blinding white that accompanied his explosions, but something about the hit felt...empty. When the smoke from his attack subsided, he found himself in a place he nor his lackadaisical narrator could explain with words. It was like a large, dark...emptiness. An expanse that just seemed to go on forever. It also seemed to morph and shift, as if it were alive and moving of its own will. He looked around him frantically, his confusion adding to his anger. He searched for Tim, but could not find the robot anywhere. He also couldn't see Vlad. Or Barrister. Or Junia. Or Melanie. His anger briefly subsiding, he searched the crowd of survivors for the crazy-eyed mercenary and her cohorts. None of them were there. He couldn't help but wonder if she'd died at some point. Had he been there when she did? Had he accidentally incinerated her in his rage? He wasn't given much time to think about it. He began to hear voices. Muffled ones, as if their sources had originated from inside a submarine. Sloshing noises caused him to look down and notice that he was standing in a slippery, black ooze that seemed to be rising with each passing second. Movement ahead of him caused him to look up towards some new noises. Disgusting ones, like the sound one might hear if they eavesdropped on him through his bedroom door in the late hours of the night. He soon realized that he was staring at hundreds of little, worm-like, creatures. Big ones. Just the right size to consider any living thing a potential meal. He looked around for this new voice, it being clear and seemingly detached from anything he could see. It was like it was in his head. Shortly afterwards, however, the vices owner materialized into view. "Whoa…" said Charlie as he took in the freakish looking creature. It appeared to be all muscle, but it's voice was definitely female. He wondered if there was curvaceous woman under all of it, waiting to be swooned into passionate breeding. Charlie turned his attention to swarm of wiggling larvae that were now quickly rushing towards them, mouths open. Jumping backwards, Charlie channeled a bit of energy into his hands and clapped them, sending out a wave of scorching of heat. Many larvae in front of him were immediately vaporized, but it gained him little to no respite. For each one he'd killed, several seemed to appear in their place. "S***!" he cursed, ducking a larvae that would've latched onto his eye-socket before turning to run. The rising sludge at his feet greatly impaired his speed though, so he had to constantly turn around to hurl fireball after fireball to keep the swarm at bay. The rising ooze and moisture of their new attackers kept him from starting any fires, meaning he'd have to conserve energy. But he knew doing so would be fruitless. Their numbers were far too great. He'd probably run dry before a tenth of them were taken out. He'd have to dig up the plant by the root. Unleashing a small explosion at his feet to briefly free him from the ooze and send him several feet in the air, he slung his hand at the Xer queen, sending over a dozen small fireballs in her general direction. They wouldn't be lethal and some of them would only serve to blind her with a small but loud pop, but he needed to know how thick her hide was before he tried to go in for a kill.
  13. "Hold up," interjected Zack as he turned to himself, till not used to his new voice. "I didn't piss your pants. You pissed your pants! I'd ask you not to piss mine, but I haven't had a drink in two days. Anyway," he continued, taking in a sufficient breath to do so as he leaned up against a table. "Taking the mayor out of the city isn't gonna solve your problems. Did you not hear me say that he's planning to impersonate Tynes? You know, that one guy who has the authority to order a mass execution of any pow's they've got? Getting Cordoza outta the city won't change that!" Zack took in another deep breath, trying not to get worked up again. He had a gut feeling that wouldn't give what he was saying any real thought given the circumstances. He was the enemy. Even if he wasn't lying, he was the enemy. If they were conventional soldiers, that would be the only thing that mattered. That was how it always was in war. The one thing that kept everyone so sharp and pointed. Having a target to shoot at and vent to without any reason to feel remorse was like heaven to most people, and he could understand why. So, he decided not to give them a speech on morality. It'd just make him look stupid. Instead, he decided to warn them about the dangers of body-swapping with him. He was about to open his mouth when his short-term memory chose that moment to start working properly. "Wait....wait, wait...plan?" said Zack, wondering if he'd heard them right. "What plan? Please tell me you're not gonna just drop a magical nuke on everyone." *** Relieved that he hadn’t been killed by his own blunder, Clive regained his senses and quickly got back to his feet. The sound of screaming almost drowned out the loud, sizzling noises Clive heard as he ran for new cover. He turned to take a peek at what was happening and grimaced. “Yeesh.”he muttered as he watched the merc’s burn. He’d seen men burn to death before, but never quite like this. Their limbs couldn’t turn black fast enough before they burned off and fell to the floor. Two others ran around screaming, their bodies now resembling moving torches. The light they gave off revealed the positions of the ones who’d managed to avoid the spill altogether. “Bingo.” said Clive, the glint in his eye returning before fanning out five shots in the next instant. Five merc’s fell dead, the only remaining one being saved because Clive’s gun had run dry. “Dammit!” cursed Clive under his breath as he ducked back into cover, opening the chamber on his peacekeeper to let it cool. The remaining merc’ hadn’t even been aware of what had transpired, turning to see his companions fall to the ground with gaping holes in their heads. Afraid that he’d soon join them, he dove to the ground behind a crate and resolved to stay there. Mercenary’s weren’t exactly praised for their bravery when it came down to it, and this one in particular hadn’t taken as many hits of the drugs as the others. Clive waited behind the drum he’d hid behind, expecting the remaining merc to return fire or make a rush for his position.When this didn’t happen, he sighed silently and rolled his eyes irritably. Killing idiots was easy. Perhaps even an enjoyable past-time. But when he was up against people who had some semblance of common sense, it was just work. His eyebrows perked up when he heard the gunfire shortly afterwards. He furrowed them when he realized they weren’t directed toward him though. Had they been that turned around? The gunfire didn’t last but a few seconds, but when it ended, struggled grunts followed. It took Clive far too much time to realize what was happening. “S***!” he cursed, peeking around the drum with his gun at the ready. The dark made it difficult to see, but he managed to catch two figures fighting with each other in the dark. The fight seemed to end when one of them plunged a knife into the others chest. Clive’s eyes creased in horror as he watched the two, still locked in a grapple, slump to the ground at a nearby wall. He waited for one of them to move, to show some sign of life. But there was none. They were completely still. Cive wanted to call out, but he knew there was at least one other merc in hiding and didn’t want to give away his position. He looked around the ground for something he could throw and spotted a cast iron bar about the size of a bat. He picked it up and slung it a dozen feet away from his position before making a mad dash around the new pool of lava towards the guardsman’s position. The bar clattered loudly with whatever it had hit and he prepared to shoot. No one. The merc he was certain was hiding away didn’t appear anywhere. He slowed his pace to be quieter just in case, not knowing that the last merc was in a catatonic state and would likely not move an inch for the next few hours. When he reached the guardsman’s position, Clives gut sank. “Hey...” he said, pulling the dead merc’ off of his body. The guardsman’s eyes were closed, his body as still as a rock. Clive frantically held a hand to his chest. There was a heartbeat, but it was very faint. Clive noticed the fresh bullet wound in the Guardsman’s side and figured he must have passed out from blood loss. He was no doctor by any measure, but he’d seen enough gut shots to know that there was little to nothing that could be done without magic or advanced tech. He’d be dead real soon. And yet... Careful not to agitate the wound any further, Clive grabbed the Guardsman and hoisted his body over his shoulder. Clive grunted from the weight, the Norkotian being little more than solid muscle. “Still...owe you a drink.” grunted Clive as he started to walk. “Heavy sum’b****.” Clive tried his best to keep the soldiers body steady with one arm, his other hand tightly gripping his peacekeeper. He wouldn’t be able to fire quickly or move as silently as he wanted, but he had to try. He wouldn’t be a yellow-belly. He started to make his way towards the entrance, which was up a partly demolished set of stairs. Wishing he had a bit more muscle, he looked around one more as he walked. He hoped to see Krieger or Tynes pop up at some point, but doubted he would. He had a gut feeling that there was a reason neither of them had worked with them to take out the remaining merc’s. A good one. He’d been unconscious at the beginning, so he didn’t know who was out there. But, just to be sure, he turned around once he got to the steps. He was still half-expecting a merc to pop out and take a shot since he was certain that he could easily be seen and heard now, so he figured it wouldn’t be much risk to make one last check. “Executor? Colonel? Ya’ll...alive?” *** Although she wouldn't be able to see it, the Tin Man grinned beneath his helmet. He'd always had a thing for women with attitude. A sick thing. "What can I say?" chuckled the Tin Man, resting a hand on Korzuc's shoulder. "I'm just so proud of him you know? Wish I had another just like'im." There was an odd silence after that. The Tin Man said nothing as he stared ahead into the smoking void of the city, as if in deep thought. The moment was brief though, soon taking his hand away and looking at Mara. "You wouldn't understand though." he shrugged, turning away from her and placing his fists behind his back. "Being full of machinery an' all that. I bet you can't bear kids, get off, or even hold a steady relationship. That life's a thing of the past. Even worse, you're not smart enough to figure out the solution to all that. Or maybe you are. Maybe you lost more than just your literal guts." The tin man slowly turned his head to look at Mara over his shoulder, his bright, crimson, visor shining down on her. "But I didn't. So let me cut the s*** and get to business. I can make significant modifications to your existing cybernetics to make you stronger. Faster. Harder to kill. I've got a constant cash flow to keep your pockets full. I could even make you more of a woman if you're that soft over it. You just gotta work for me. OR," he said, looking away from her to gaze out over he city again. "I kill you. Today. Maybe a little extra. And if by some miracle I don't? You'll be running from me for the rest of your short life. Like a game of tag, cept' I'll always be it. I'm only offering this once. Your choice, mercenary."
  14. @Metty - ARASHI When the rock collided with Red's foot, the only thing that stopped him from opening fire was the notion that the person who'd thrown it from behind the dumpster was just some drunken idiot who'd wanted to stick it to the man. He and Harry looked down at the rock in confusion. Then each other. "...The f-" They looked toward the direction of the voice behind the dumpster, Red shaking his head before the leveled their guns on it and began to approach. Red didn't like hippies, so he was planning to put a real beatdown on whoever was behind the dumpster. But he'd get a surprise. Before either of them could react, a glowing-red hand curled around the dumpster and fired two bolts of red electricity at their feet. Harry cried out in pain as his feet were knocked out from under him, falling to the ground and just barely stopping his face from making contact with the pavement. The bolt fired at Red missed it's target, grazing his pants leg and sending a jolt of alarm up his spine. He didn't hesitate to open fire as Harry got to his feet, but barely got the chance to get off more than ten rounds before the dumpster was kicked towards them. Red and Harry got the wind knocked right out of them as their body's were sent flying backwards. Gary followed Arashi passed them as the two agents were still on the ground. "T-that...that's HER!" shouted Red, knowing he hadn't mistaken the red volt of electricity. He rolled onto his stomach and fired at them as they turned the corner out of the alley. "You gotta be s***in' me!" muttered Harry as he got to his feet and pulled out his walkie-talkie. "This is agent Beta H! We've got visual on Arashi Sato on...." "Wrenford!" shouted Red irritably as he pointed at the street sign sitting in plain sight right outside of the alley. "Wrenford avenue! Requesting immediate back-up! Target is on the run heading west from Wrenford! I repeat, target is heading west from Wrenford!" "You're on fire!" shouted Red as he pointed at Harry's feet. Harry looked down and saw that his shoes were in fact, on fire. "AAH!" Harry shouted, hopping up and down as Red got out his canteen and tried to pour its contents on his partners shoes. "I...I think they just called back-up!" cried Gary as he struggled to keep up with Arashi, looking back almost every step of the way. "What do we do?! Where do we go?!"
  15. @Kingofgames12 - LEO "Absolutely insane!" chuckled Chris. "But no one expects insanity. Not even the insane, now that I think about it." Chris placed a hand on his chin in thought before visibly regaining his focus. "Alright. I'll get down there and do my thing. Be careful out there!" With that and a quick salute, Chris leaned backwards off of the building and out of sight. Next? They waited. The soon was reaching it's peak in the sky, shining almost directly down upon the area. Most of the gang members below were lounging around and gambling, not really paying much attention to much else. Some of them were even sleeping. Still, there were a few that seemed antsy, their eyes darting in every direction as the drugs in their system fueled their blood-lust to almost unbearable levels. They were waiting for a reason to shoot someone, and the others seemed to be avoiding them. "You...know what you're doing right?" asked Eliza, who swallowed when she realized what she was about to go through. "You used to your...powers an' all that?" Before Leo would be able to respond, a loud, pained scream echoed throughout the outpost. "MY ARRRRRMM!" shouted a gang member, presumably somewhere far to the left where Leo and Eliza couldn't see. Nearly everyone below turned to see what the commotion was about, save a few who remained asleep. "I'm a pretty princess!" Chris shouted, his voice coming from the same direction. "SAY IT!" "I-I'm a pretty princessss!" cried the poor low-life Chris had chosen for the distraction. "It's HIM!" shouted one of the armed gang members before he and a couple others took aim. "Yes!" shouted Chris, sounding like his nose was being pinched. "It is I, WALUIGI!" "KILL THAT MOTHERF***ER!!!!" Gunfire erupted from the area below as countless gang members riddled Chris's general direction with a wave of bullets. Many of them ran after him, undoubtedly being led away from the warehouse. By this point, the ones who were sleeping were waking up with a start, frantically looking every which was as they grabbed their weapons. If Leo moved quickly, he'd be able to get into the warehouse without even being seen. Only two men were standing near the back entrance, and they were looking intently at the chaos Chris had started.
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