TerminusEst13

The Kabuki were still under the influence of their Break Free override, and thus weren't benefitting from being introduced to the ground--they did, however, back away all the same, if for no other reason than to have only one suffer from the impact of the Bomb. Bousatsu's mechanical hide cracked and shuddered from the radiation detonating all over his form, stumbling backwards and collapsing off of the perch--Reiketsu, though mostly unharmed aside from the Haze, simply leaned backwards to drop off the edge, flipping backwards and taking a hold of Bousatsu's crackling body, holding it as the former lightly landed on the ground.
Reiketsu put Bousatsu upright on the ground, staring up at the Osh'kan, Kairaishi's thoughts whirling through it's motherboard as the puppetmaster planned and strategized. It had been a long time since he last had a two-versus-one.
To cover their escape, a flash arrow promptly soared through the air, smacking into the ground next to Rulaag's parked feet--a blinding flash of light penetrated through the air, suddenly blurring his vision to reduce his perception. He likely could easily regain it, but it would cover the Kabukis' exit back to their master.

The ningyo promptly let go of their quarry and gave him a powerful shove with all five pairs of hands, sending him hurtling further down the hills that made up the edge of the lake and into the water--absolutely no damage or further hindrance, but getting suddenly shoved away from a dogpile into water was something that would be completely unexpected, and promised to buy Kairaishi a few seconds of peace, at least. The ningyo quickly stumbled back over to the puppetmaster's origin, three standing protectively around him as bodyguards while the remaining two went over to the unconscious Hellions.
The woman was still with her boyfriend, even in his grip of being out cold.
Kairaishi simply smiled--he'd have to thank Ozell for making his job easier sometime.
One single kick later, and the woman's lights were shut off to match her boyfriend's.

"What am I doing? I'm simply going to teach people about love--sticking together...through thick...and thin."

Kairaishi was first alerted to a hero's presence when his ningyo started getting tossed around left and right by abnormal winds. The weather hadn't alerted to strange tornados lowering out of the sky out of random--but, then again, this WAS Paragon, so anything went.
The puppetmaster whirled his head around, narrowing his brown eyes underneath his horned sakkat as he glared at the source of the abnormal winds--then glancing over at Ozell. He smiled behind his mask--he was almost concerned for a bit. A few quick handmotions sent a Break Free override to the Kabuki, and they quickly regained their footing on the ground, no longer knocked around left and right from the winds, the hurricane, and the tornado. They quickly rushed over to the source, waving their hands in front of Rulaag to Placate him at the same time, then leaping into the air for a Golden Dragonfly. The ningyo were all haphazard and blind rushing, stumbling to all regain their footing as they rushed over at Ozell and leapt for a dogtackle, five bodies lunging over to him at once.

"I don't remember asking Paragon's heroes for assistance--why do you feel the need to bother me, eh?"

Ozell was right--Prometheus Park was entirely without radios at the moment. It seemed strange that another park would reside entirely within Atlas Park, but Atlas wasn't exactly a zone that made sense, anyway--more seasoned heroes tended to avoid it, and for good reason. Only idiots liked to hang around in Atlas Park--even civilians, who one day in half-hearted protest started cowering in front of Ms. Liberty, were rather disenchanted with the superpowered populace that swarmed the zone.
Which meant that all of the superheroes were idiots, none of the civilians cared enough to fall in love, which only left the Hellions.
The Hellions were a mockery, even among lower-level heroes, and yet somehow they were able to put on charm to women--or women were able to charm them. In any case, the results were often hilarious.

Prometheus Park was mostly empty at the moment, aside from said Hellions patrolling their turf. Each of them holding their bats and a revolver, with just one girl among them--a brown-haired girl who looked a little young was holding onto the arm of a Damned, the one who was without weaponry. And for good reason, as the Damned had no NEED for weaponry. The hellfire they could conjure up was weaponry enough. She seemed new to this, constantly looking between the Hellions with more than a bit of fear as they surrounded her--the Damned seemed to care little about his prize, and simply strutted along with her, yapping with his droogs.

[KASHUNK!]
"GYAAAAAAAAUGH!"

One poison dart later, and a Hellion was collapsed on the ground, clutching at his side as he writhed and moaned, the others promptly drawing their guns out and unleashing lead at the swarm of two kabuki and five ningyo that appeared, as well as the puppetmaster himself.
Kairaishi smiled grimly. "Don't you people listen to the radio anymore?"

I don't know what's going on in here, but I am summoned by a mentioning of Halo as "balanced".






AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Halo 1, maybe. MAYBE.
Halo 2? No. Just...no.

I may not be good at CoH/V PvP, but I am an FPS veteran, and I know Halo 2 is a mockery of FPS balance.

[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
My point - CM is almost standard in any good pvp - with confuse protection being a natch as well as ungodly hold protection - most if not all pvp hero toons have some sort of mez protection - sad that one power for one hero at can ruin our day (and most doms) - I think you meant 3 heals 2 init redx and 1 rech on aid self not aid other?

SoC is awesome yes - but in a pure pvp build I think there are other powers (pr/sec and pool) that serve a plant/thorn dom better.

[/ QUOTE ]

First off, yes, 6 slots on aid self and 2 or 3 on aid other.

Also, you obviously don't understand the uses of confuse. I can count on one hand the number of powers that resist it. Confuse = enemies unable to reliably attack you because of creeper vines. It also means that trip mine users = dead.

[/ QUOTE ]

[raises hand] Don't forget Glue Arrow users = taste of their own medicine and Masterminds = crying.

((If there's one thing I hate about myself, it's how unreliable I am. The last Locria/Walter post was, what, the 23rd? Christ, I need to kick up the pace...))

Walter smiled--well, he didn't so much as smile as he did smirk. He crossed his arms, the edge of his mouth rising ever-so-slightly in amusement, entertained by the expression on Locria's face. Emotional suppressants were suppressants, not removers, and it was always...brightening to see the GSR units have an emotion powerful enough to overcome the suppressants enough to be shown. It showed that they were still human, and could still think, act, and do things of their own free will.
It showed that they were still his "children", as well as his soldiers.
"Of course, Locria. Feel free to get dressed in whatever you desire." He lifted up his hands to adjust his shirt, starting to head out of the room, hands entwined behind his back, eyes staring straight ahead as he went his way.

"I'll see you outside in half an hour."


-------------------------------------------------------------------------


"Radio. Radio! RADIOOOOOOO FREE OPPORTUNITY, your one source of information for villain inclination! And right now, now now now, this second now, have we got the best information for you!"
For some reason, the Radio was in Paragon. Or, rather, its station was--blaring across radios all on the street and boomboxes, it was heard by both heroes and villains alike...and even civilians. Though the Radio in Port Oakes usually only was able to be tuned in by people who were searching for information, this time, everyone was able to hear it--and it certainly got quite a few stares and more than a few adjusted dials. A villain radio station in the city of heroes?
"According to our sources from WSPDR, there seems to be a villain running amuck in Paragon City, gasp, shock, and alarm! Ah, and I know what you're thinking--'Radio, this doesn't matter to me, because I'm not a loser and I always know when my fair city is being invaded!'. Of course, this is always despite the fact that your police officers get piled up in the morgue higher and higher daily, but details are details.
ANYway! There is, in fact, a villain running amuck in Paragon City. Dubbed as the Romance Ravager (cool choice of words, huh? I came up with that myself, hahaha! Anyway), this villain is apparently stalking the streets for couples that are in the act of being romantic! How sweet, catching people right in the process of making out with each other--unfortunately, the Romance Ravager quickly cuts this apart, as whoever he and she come across vanish out of thin air! Poof, gone, kaput, no more!
'But, Radio, why does this matter to me, I'm not gonna grab my hot girlfriend's [censored] while on the street!'
Shut up and listen, punk. Anyway, the only clue that's been left behind at each scene are two dolls, one male and one female, each gripping a heart that are sewn into their hands. The dolls seem to be made in a japanese style, each wearing a kimono and with anime-style faces, as well as random japanese symbols on the heart. Finally, there's also been a few shurikens and poison darts found imbedded in the walls--perhaps there's been a struggle?
Whatever the case, people, keep it off the streets and in the bedrooms! And if there are some heroes listening to this...gee, I don't know what you would possibly be doing here? I mean, what do we have to benefit from this for, huh? After all, you guys are the good guys, and we guys are the Radio guys!
Not just any Radio, though. We are...
Radio. Radio! RADIOOOOOOOOO FREE OPPORTUNITY!"
And with that, the broadcasts promptly shut off, leaving people back with their old 90s songs by a random artist nobody would remember in a few years.

Virtue is the unofficial RP server.

Just remember, with the good comes the bad.

@Big Mike and @Arashi both have Pinnacle as their homes.
You should talk with them.

Mmmph.
Valentine's day.

The couple loved the two words, and were showing exactly how much they loved it. Holding each other close in their arms, their lips meshed and melded as they sucked and kissed on each others' faces, they hid in an alleyway close to a King's Row warehouse. Bodies pressed up against a wall to hide from others, their arms wrapped around each other, they had not a care in the world as they were left in each others' love.

Whirrrrrclick.
They would soon damn well have a care in the world.
Kabuki Reiketsu, one of Kairaishi's personal bodyguards and errandsmen, kept his eye on the two. He was not on autopilot, Kairaishi was controlling his movements remotely--the puppetmaster was nearby.
Reiketsu silently unsheathed one of his three swords--specifically, the one sheathed at his waist.

SSSSSHING!
From a distance, a person could perhaps make out what seemed to be the whistling of a blade slinging through the air, along with two sharp cries--after that, though, there was suddenly nothing.
Any observer who would investigate would see Reiketsu calmly picking up a few smoke bombs he dropped, and then leap up into the sky--too high to follow, unless someone was capable of flying. And even then, Reiketsu would have been too fast to follow.

Kairaishi lifted up his sakkat with a thumb as he saw Reiketsu leap back onto the top of the skyscraper he was perching on, Bousatsu standing loyally behind him.
The puppetmaster smiled wryly.
This would lead to an interesting turn of events. Already, news radios and TV broadcasts were talking about couples who were mysteriously vanishing--nine so far. There were no clues and no trace left behind, aside from two cloth puppets left behind at each scene--each sewn into a heart, rendering them inseparable.
One more will do. He thought. If you want to drive a point home, it's better to have lots of people--misery loves company.

Reiketsu, Bousatsu, and Kairaishi alike all lifted up their hands and threw down a smoke bomb, vanishing in a puff of white that covered their teleportation away.

Walter blinked behind his sunglasses, clearly not having been expecting this. Shifting the guitar in front of him to the right, he extended his hand out to take the CD, inspecting it slowly. He examined each and every single curve that made up the cover art, and then opened it up. Pushing a button on his throne, a slot on the side opened up, revealing several CDs already stuck inside. Walter added it alongside those already there, and pushed a button, the music promptly starting to blare through the room.
Just a few seconds listening into it, and the edges of his mouth curved upwards into a soft, silent smirk. He had barely heard it, but he was already liking it--both the music, and the fact that she had gone out of her way to present him with something.

"...Locria. There is...a concert going on, soon. Daniel Garner and the Painkillers, starting in roughly an hour. Would you like to...accompany me, this Valentine's Day?"



----------------------------------------------



She was right.
Looks like crime didn't rest today.

Scordatura narrowed her eyes behind her visor as she stared down at the group of black-clothed teenaged thugs leering in front of her, the two women behind her shivering due to the fact that their clothes were ripped off of them. The thugs were all stumbling around, leaning against the wall for support--the foul odor made it clear that they weren't stumbling from dizziness at having their [censored] kicked, they were stumbling because they couldn't stand up straight due to being drunk.
Scordatura's left hand was on her hip, right hand tossing around a lead pipe casually. Her scarf waved in the air behind her as she shook her hooded head in disdain. She couldn't believe what she had just heard.

"Lemme git this strai'...ye lads think tha' ye, 'cause yer drunk an' today's Valentine's Day, think tha' ye c'n take yer gals, yank their clothes, an' bring a slew o' droogs so ye c'n please yerselves all inna name of 'love', woteva bloo'y twisted concept o' love ye've got tha' allows this...AN' ye think tha' this is perfectly legal, nae any troubles, an' yer gals'll fergive ye fer it?"

The group in front of her all nodded.

Scordatura paused a moment, mentally soaking that in.
They seriously believed it was all right, what they were doing. Violation was one of a woman's worst nightmares, and here they thought it was perfectly all right and that they'd be forgiven. Forget the fact that it had SERIOUS repercussions--not the least of which usually being pregnancy, internal hemorrhaging, or STDs, due to inebriation forgetting to use protection. There was also psychological trauma, memories and intrusive thoughts about the assault, nightmares, difficulty sleeping, difficulty concentrating, PTSD, OCD, DID, RTS, panic attacks--Jesus, the list went on and on and on. These bastards seriously thought it would be OKAY?
She gripped the end of the lead pipe, stopping its tossing.
Sometimes, she wondered why she kept on working to save humanity from itself. People never learned--their self-destructive behavior and constant lashing out at each other because of their OWN problems, thinking that because they can't be happy, nobody can. Or perhaps their own ignorance, thinking what they were doing was right WHEN IT SO OBVIOUSLY WASN'T. Or maybe they just thought they were above morality, and thus could do whatever they want. Whatever the case, they were doing wrong, and they had no intention of stopping.
Idiots.

WHA-CRACK!
"GYAAAAAAAAAUGH!"
"JESUS, WOMAN!"

The lead pipe was promptly bent, and blood was spurted across the walls as one of the thugs lay down on the ground, clutching his skull and whimpering. Scordatura examined the fresh red slab of paint that accented her weapon, and then gave it one more toss into the air, deftly catching it in her hand. The other seven thugs promptly put up their fists to their face in a mockery of a boxing stance, bobbing and weaving in an attempt to look intimidating--it didn't help that they were constantly butting shoulders and smacking against each other.
Scordatura shook her hooded head again.
Idiots.

The lead pipe WHOOSHED as it went through the wind, whacking and whonking along with the wannabes' bodies--within just a few minutes, bodies were piled along the garbage cans and the dumpsters, each of them moaning piteously in pain as they clutched their wounds--or, rather, tried to. Each of them had a sheet of metal wrapped around their bodies, holding them in place as the women watched, holding close to each other as Scordatura surveyed her handiwork.
Not bad. She estimated about 49 bones broken, and plenty more cracked. Their hospital bill would be expensive.
The women said nothing as Scordatura left them with a leap, diving up into the air as sirens started to close in on the area. Good. She preferred it when people didn't say anything.

Plenty of work to be done.
She didn't have time to celebrate a holiday.

((I'll accept the first reason))

^
|
|

what he say

((1: DJ Zero is not the only power dampener at all. He's not a power dampener, period. He is God, in Pocket D.

2: There are not power dampeners, period, aside from teleportation. All powers are quite capable of freely being used.

3: The Pocket D is an entirely different dimension--one with physics that DJ Zero himself has made. It is not our dimension. The physics are what he chose to be. The physics he chose is that he is God, and that damaging another person is physically, mentally, emotionally, entirely IMPOSSIBLE. Not hard. Not able to be switched back on. IMPOSSIBLE. There is NO way to do it. Period. Semicolon. Backslash. Even if you manage to, somehow, via PBAoE attacks, nothing is effected.
If there WAS a way to turn it on, Arachnos and Hero/Freedom Corps would have discovered it by now, because neither like each other, and their acceptance of Pocket D as a neutral zone is...grudging. At BEST.
The ONLY way to do it is via the arena--and even then, as evidenced by the Pocket D cage arena, it's an entirely different D dimension. A sub-dimension, if you will.

4: Because DJ Zero is God, and because it's his own dimension, nothing can happen to him. At all. Period. Semicolon. Backslash. Even if something DID happen to him, he can just wave a finger and make it so that nothing happened at all, because he's God there.

Sorry to burst your bubbles, but canon is canon))

Lord Diov: 15
Khellendrosiic: 19
Hallucinogen: 17
Essex: 20
Prodiguy: 17
The Soviet: 19
Lazarus: 13
Devious Me: 20
Burning Brawler: 17
Arashi: 17
Halo Inc: 13
Billy Boy: 16
Leo Gunner: 13
Pheonyx: 15
Mithral Zeta: 17
Cowman: 12
Moiread Scott: 15
Seikon: 5
Coldfire Kaiser: HEAD SHOTT'D
Army of Grey: 15
Ozell One: 20

Hal, stop with Twilight Grasp. You know the ToHit Debuff is negligible.

Agreed. Between Tom and Ess, I'm having a hard time deciding who's better.

Lord Diov: 14
Khellendrosiic: 17
Hallucinogen: 17
Essex: 17
Prodiguy: 16
The Soviet: 17
Lazarus: 15
Devious Me: 18
Burning Brawler: 16
Arashi: 15
Halo Inc: 15
Billy Boy: 16
Leo Gunner: 13
Pheonyx: 15
Mithral Zeta: 16
Cowman: 14
Moiread Scott: 15
Seikon: 13
Coldfire Kaiser: 4
Army of Grey: 15
Ozell One: 17

'Sup.

Currently, Walter was on the verge of jamming out--with his speaker system ready and a guitar in his hands, he was reliving "one of the few decent things about a wasted youth". Specifically, a few of the CDs in his room were of a band named "Redd, White, and Black"--a metal band that incorporated techno and orchestral elements, each played by a respective member. Walter Redd was skilled with guitars, Elia White was a professional orchestral composer and player, and Johnny Black was an excellent drummer as well as a synthesizer. They had made a few decent CDs together, but circumstances that were never made public broke them all up, and each of them went their separate ways.
With his jacket, hat, and mask taken off, all that remained to identify him was his usual pale skin, sunglasses, a pair of white slacks, and a black turtleneck covering his body. He tilted his head from side to side to crack his neck, he flicked a switch on the floor to start the music.

The resulting symphony that followed could only be described as gorgeous.
Walter seemed at home in this, his body constantly swaying and turning as his fingers flew across the strings, adding in the guitar along with the prerecorded synths, drums, and violins. Music promptly filled the room, emptying the silence that was previously there before. This was...MUSIC. Music was not only the symphony that went into the ears, it was also the desire and the soul that was woven into the composition--every note had to have a POINT to it, every note had to be a clear reflection of the users that worked with blood, sweat, and tears to make it a reality.
This...was music.
And yet, he mused as he continued to play...it all came to nothing. He put his soul into this composition when it was first made, and nothing but pain came as a result.

A minute and forty seconds later, right when the song had finished, Walter heard a knock at his door.
He frowned. He had wanted to savor the accomplishment that comes with having played a song, and played it well, but he supposed interruptions came with not telling your subordinates that you would be busy.
He nudged the switch with his foot again to turn off the next track, which was already playing, and promptly walked over back down to his throne, sitting down in it with a dejected WHUMP. The headstock was pressed down onto the ground, the body of the guitar pointed upwards, his hands resting on top--it seemed some sort of scepter in between his legs, blocking view of his mouth as he simply sit there, pausing a moment before responding to the knock. He took a quick glance at the security monitor above the door.
Hm. It was Locria. The GSR units didn't often visit him, it was usually him that visited them. Whatever would she want? Perhaps she just had a question to ask him. Or perhaps there was something around the base that needed to be done. Or perhaps she didn't sleep well, and needed to be comforted--he didn't put it past the GSR units to have nightmares in their sleep, but he had never asked, and thus never knew for sure.
He shrugged, speaking in his usual firm tone. Whatever she wanted, he'd find out.
"Enter."

Valentine's Day.

Bah, humbug.

Lord Sir Walter Greensryche Redd the Second sat in the fortress that was Greensryche Industries Headquarters, specifically in his room. It didn't look much like a room befitting a multibillionaire, full of posters depicting heavy metal bands, several electric guitars hung up on the walls, and a large stereo system with numerous speakers spread around the room, as well as a wall literally full of different metal CDs.
Walter may have been a multibillionaire, but he was also a metalhead. A very, very metal metalhead.
He was also currently sitting on his throne of broken car parts, fingers steepled together as he stared at the black walls that made up his "throne room" from behind his always-there sunglasses. His expression was neutral, thoughtful, as emotionless as always as his thoughts tumbled and tussled within themselves.

He mentally went over the list of things to do for the day:
1: Work on Doom Schneider's marksmanship. His effectiveness had decreased by .08%, and his aim was on target only about 92% of the time. Utterly unacceptable.
Check. Though Walter himself was unable to fire a gun anymore, aside from his pathetic .22 LR, he had gone to the firing range with Doom and not only honed his marksmanship back up to 115%, but had also worked on stealth and infiltration.
2: Change the Greensryche Industries direct contact phone number.
Check. He had assigned Lyden to change it--with simply the "Affirmative" he had heard, he checked it off as done right then and there.
3: See martial arts instructors about improvements to GSR CQC, and his own Goju Ryu.
Check. GSR CQC was focused highly upon punching, and by training against those that used primarily kicks, he was able to single out and hone a few weaknesses and problems. He made it a mental note to talk to the GSR units about these weaknesses and problems, see if they could find ways to overcome them. Any form of problem was entirely and completely unacceptable. His own Goju Ryu, however...still as top-notch as ever. He let out a dry chuckle--too bad it was of little use in both Paragon and the Etoile Isles, but it was better than nothing.
4: Give the unprogrammed workers the day off to be with their significant others.
Check. Most of the workers in Greensryche Industries were genetically modified or cybernetically enhanced and programmed in the brain in order to ensure utmost loyalty, and they were the only ones allowed to know about the industry's inner secrets. Greensryche Industries, however, had the front of being a medical chemical research and development company, however, and thus had many, many normal workers in order to ensure this front stayed airtight. As well as, well, actually developing medical chemicals that would bring in some extra money on the side--the performance-enhancing chemicals were brewed deeper inside. Sometimes they got the order to make something that wouldn't be for medical use, which perked a few eyebrows, but their pay was good, so they didn't care or mind.
However, as normal workers are, morale needs to be kept high--they have their own loves, their own hopes, their own dreams, and their own ideals. Without good morale, workers would not work well--thus, Walter had given them the entire day off.
5: Tell Shane and Zakk to stop playing with the teleporter. Again.
Check. He had told them, but they didn't listen. Again.
As usual.
Walter sighed--if they weren't good and loyal fighters, he would have pulled the plug on them long ago.
He made a mental note that, as punishment, they'd be target practice for the GSR units to work out the CQC flaws and ******.

...That was it. And it was all done.
Valentine's Day wasn't very busy, with all of the normal workers gone home and the company "Closed" for the day.

...That simply left him alone with his thoughts.
Walter frowned. Take away a man's light, his clothes, his food, his friends, his air, and you leave him with nothing but himself. And for most, that is not pleasant company. In Walter's case, it was taking away things to do to distract himself with, leaving him alone with himself.
He didn't quite like himself.
Walter shook his head and stood up out of his throne, starting to pace around.
Valentine's Day. A day of celebrating companionship, of friendship, of romance.
He had none. He was a ruler--the ruler of Greensryche Industries, and the Lord over the terrifying GSR units. But the problem is, being a ruler and a lord meant you were above. The closest he could get was being a father figure to the GSR units--what about him, himself? All of his subordinates were programmed, altered, and enhanced in some way...their loyalty to him was forced, by the routines implanted in their brains and the chemicals coursing through their veins.
Was this truly all he could aspire to? He mused silently, hands behind his back. A puppetmaster controlling puppets, all in the name of his final goal? His goal was simple, but it brought many, many enemies--his allies were few, and most of them had to be coerced...or even forced. He was hated by the Etoile Islanders, and he was hated by Paragon's heroes.
What was so wrong about what he was doing? Nothing, in his eyes--but heroes found him despicable for what he was doing, and villains found him despicable for why he was doing it.
It was a double-edged sword, and it left him with...nothing. Absolutely nothing. Nothing except puppets to pull by their strings, spouting off things they were programmed to say and doing things they were forced to do, nothing except a cause and a goal he would never reach, and nothing except a heavy burden he knew would never be lifted off of him.

Walter slumped down back into his throne, closing his eyes behind his sunglasses.
He pushed a button on the right armrest, and loud metal music promptly filled the room--muted from the outside by all of the cloth absorbing the noise, leaving him in peace.
Then again, peace was a far cry from what was going in his mind right now.

Sometimes being alone just hurt.

((I ain't sad. <_< My chars are, but I'm not.

Did I write emo that well? I'm not sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing))

Valentine's day.

Sir Morgant Trahaearn Drystan had never had a good Valentine's Day before. This one thought was permeating his mind.
The knight was brooding--sitting on the Talos Island ship where they had first kissed. It was long abandoned, nobody ever came to take care of it, and yet, for some reason, it was still floating in the water. Morgant sat down cross-legged and cross-armed, eyes closed as he stared into the depths of his memories and his mind. He was never one for angsting or for whining. And yet, for some reason, today, of all days, seemed to be particularly miserable.
At least he knew why.

Every year before this one, be it in Ellenier or Paragon, he had always simply sat enviously to the side and just...watched. It was almost maddening, seeing others just prance about hand-in-hand, oblivious to anything but themselves. Selfishness at its finest, only interested in their own pleasures and their own time together, and ignoring everyone and everything else. It seemed like the only way to be happy was to throw yourself into the arms of your lover, and just forget the rest of the world existed--just get sucked into yourself and your partner.
This year, though, he thought it would be different. He thought he'd finally be able to join the masses and just pretend that nothing else mattered. He was looking forward to just holding her in his arms, letting her chilled body rest against his, and just...tell her, all day, just how much she meant to him.
Despite that he had a girlfriend, it seemed the fact that Valentine's Day would be just as pisspoor as the rest--he'd be just as miserable, just as sulking, and just as sullen. And for one simple reason, really.
She wouldn't be able to be with him.
Morgant reflected upon the irony of this. Those miserable at Valentine's Day were often miserable because they had no mate, had no love, had nothing to call their own. He had all of that--a beautiful lover who was showering him with romance and affection, as well as giving him a roof over his head.
And yet, on the very day in which they should be celebrating their love, they were being yanked away from each other. Or, rather, she was pulling away from him.
Crey Industries had their hands buried into her affairs, as well as his. Constantly harrassing both her and him, she had dove full-force into investigating Crey's affairs, finding out just what the hell they wanted with her and him, and why. He lifted up his hand to rub his eyes, sighing and shaking his head. She had gotten so into it, so much into researching and proving and talking to contacts, she had forgotten about any concept of time at all--including what day it was.
Forgotten. It had slipped her mind entirely. She had no clue when Valentine's Day was, and would promptly be wracked with guilt once he reminded her it was today. So he simply decided to leave her to her work, and leave her happy at the moment.
There were plenty of other things to distract him, anyway.

Sometimes being alone just hurt.


----------------------------------------------------------------


Valentine's day.

A day of companionship, love, and romance. A time for others to enjoy their mates and their lovers. United partners making the best of their time.
She had two partners, though. A rarity among most people, but she loved them both equally.
Heckler and Koch.
The Heckler & Koch USP Match .45 ACP, to be specific. Two of them, one for each hand. Dual-weilding was normally something reserved for cheap action movies, video games, or Hong Kong cinema, but it was Virelai's specialty. A gun's recoil was fierce, to state the understatement of the century, and simply handling it often required two hands to keep a steady aim while continuing to fire. Normal humans simply didn't have the strength to handle single-handed recoil.
She mused as she peered down the iron sights of the left-hand gun, staring at the pictures of numerous people she knew nailed to a target board.
She wasn't human.
BANG! She squeezed the trigger and proceeded to loosen her arms to let the hand jerk back thanks to the shot. The .45 ACP ammo was powerful, to say the least. Low recoil combined with very good accuracy and stopping power, along with relatively low muzzle blast and flash, meant that she relied on it a lot. It was her favorite, along with the legendary .500 S&W, which she reserved for her Raging Bulls.
BANG BANG! She continued to fire with her left hand, not even blinking as she stared down at the target where the bullets had landed. A picture of Essex.
Shaking her head slowly, Virelai let her mind wander for a few split seconds. Being a bounty huntress wasn't exactly sociable business. There was always a chance people you knew would be turned against you, by means either in control or out of it. But one shouldn't even hesitate when staring down the barrel of a gun and aiming at someone you know--fire, anyway, even if it meant they'd die and you'd never see them again. She was often detached for a reason...she didn't like being with people, and more often than not, they let her down or she let them down, which lead to more pain. She was already used to pain, and wasn't fond of it--why give even more?
Essex, in particular. She had made and eaten ice cream with her, actually gone clothes-shopping with her, fought alongside to defend and help her, tried to support her when she was in cat-form...she had promised to never let anything happen to her.
...poof. All gone. She had failed to protect her, and now her memory was wiped as a result. The very few times she had opened up to someone, to something, and it was wasted. She would never have those chances again. She would never LET herself have those chances again--it only figured that the one time she opened up to someone in a long, long time, she proceeded to get stabbed.
BANG! BANG!
...It helped to think negative things when shooting at someone you knew.
BANG! BANG! Overdell was the next picture to get a bullet to the brain. Pervert.
BANG! BANG! Hallucinogen. The idiot was far too emo over far too little, and needed to shut up and get over it.
BANG! Rulaag. Self-righteous dick and an idiot who thought he knew it all, and needed a reality check.
BANG! Ozell One. Too happy and cheerful--he needed to get whacked with some cynicism.
BANG! Rosalind. ...She couldn't think of anything wrong, but shot anyway.
She stared at one final picture, depicting a reptilian luchadore, with a bright orange mask with white flares on it.
Anonysmo Dragon. She felt her face heat as she looked over at him. Ever since she was 17, she had a deep crush on him. His sense of justice, his sense of right...he was valorous, fair, and was always willing to go the extra mile to help those less fortunate than him. Besides...he was strong and muscular, and very, VERY handsome. What wasn't there to like about him?
Her eyes widened at where her thoughts took her. She was hesitating. Bad move.
Her left gun was empty. The Match only held 12 rounds of the .45 ACP. The 9mm Luger version could hold 15 rounds, but in the end, bigger was better.
She quickly lifted up her right hand and let off a blind shot--speed was of the essence, when you hesitate. She would work on being fast first, then work on being accurate WHILE being fast.
Virelai paused to see where the round had landed--she had missed by a mile, and the shot was roughly a foot above his picture.
The naiad sighed as she shook her head, lowering both guns and turning away to walk off.

Sometimes being alone just hurt.


----------------------------------------------------------------


Valentine's day.

She always kept her house dark around these holidays. Scordatura, out of her armor, simply lounged back in a red plush chair, her feet kicked up on the desk, adjusting her black pants. She wasn't going out at these times--crime was drastically reduced around holidays, and what little there was could be watched over by other heroes. She'd leave it for them to handle.
She looked around the darkened room with a bemused expression. She could finally relax, then. She could just...take it easy...lean back...and not have to worry about anything.
Scordatura frowned, taking a few moments to savor the silence and the rest.

...

...

...

...It was quiet. Too quiet.
Funny. She was going to relax, but she didn't like it. She didn't like how it felt. After all, how could she, when she was alone? Today was the day of lovers to get together, and not only COULDN'T she have a lover, but she didn't WANT one, much less had one. She had willingly chosen reclusiveness as a lifestyle--she was mostly disgusted with her fellow humans, and preferred being on the outside. In fact, that was how she lived her entire life--on the outside, looking in. Get too close to people, and they'll learn more about you, and the more they'll be disappointed once they learn of your flaws and your faults. She hated letting down people, and she preferred simply being an enigma that went in, did good, and vanished. That was the point of being a hero, right? Doing the right thing for the sake of doing the right thing, not to get your name recognized or for the fame.
She steepled her fingers together as her heel-wearing foot tapped the heel against the desk. She was rambling...she had the day off. Her MP3 player was nearby. Why be miserable when you can be happy? She quickly leaned forward to grab it off of the desk, put on the headphones, and hit "Shuffle". Might as well listen to random music instead of being emo.

You hide, won't fight
Avoid the daylight
Give in, won't win
No try to make it right

Aaah. Helloween. Her favorite band. They had some of the best songs ever, as well as thoughtful lyrics. One of the best, period.

Why don't you stop crying
Stop your painful dying
Why don't you give your life a sense

She recognized this song instantly. "Don't Run For Cover", it was called.

One game, one aim
But you're always sleeping
One light so bright
In darkness you're creeping

Why don't you use your head
Step out of your warm bed
And stop being an anxious rat

"..."
She instantly hit the stop button, yanking the headphones off of her ears.
What was she doing? She was sitting here and moping, taking a rest.
She was a HERO, dammit. She had duties. Why was she curling around here in misery, when she had a duty to do? Why was she concentrating more on herself instead of the crime that WOULD be around on this Valentine's Day? People would be hurt today, people would be wronged. And she was to right those wrongs, to make things better again.
Why focus on yourself? That was the selfish thing to do, and a mistake many heroes fell into. They believed that because they were great, they could take a break from rescuing others just because they were miserable--and the others they didn't rescue would often befall...nasty fates.
She was NOT going to let others suffer just so she could rest.
She shook off her head and kicked off her heels, standing up straight.

"CHAAAAAAAANGE, COMMANDO!"

Sometimes being alone just hurt.
But she was a hero. She was supposed to continue on, despite hurting.


----------------------------------------------------------------


Valentine's day.

Aaaah, what a day of the year.
Kairaishi spun around in his room in his (pink) pajamas, neuroarmor still snug tight around his body. He extended his arms out in a mock dance with a made-up partner.
"Aaaah, good lady, a wonderful Valentine's Day to you? May I have this dance?"
He lifted his voice into a falsetto. "Oh, God, it's Kairaishi! Oh, what a hunk! I would be honored to dance with such a sexy beast like you! Oh, take me home now!"
The puppetmaster chuckled at his own flattery. "Why, thank you, good madam? Yes, I am a sexy beast, and I would love to take you back home."
Both Reiketsu and Bousatsu watched from a distance. Despite being on autopilot, they still had no emotion or personality, and thus cared little about the puppetmaster's antics. He continued to swing and sway and flirt with himself, and they did nothing except continue to watch over him, hands on their katana hilt, in case anyone or anything came out of nowhere to assault him.
The Kabuki had their plans, and so did Kairaishi. First, he'd give a gift to himself. Then he'd write a love letter to himself. Then he'd prolly pull some pranks on unsuspecting lovers. Then he'd watch a cheesy romance movie. Then he'd prolly masturbate and pretend he was doing a hot chick.
Kairaishi blinked and shook his head, then slumped over.
God, he was a loser. No friends, no loves, and the best thing he could think of for Valentine's Day was wanking off?

...Hmmm. Maybe he'd call up Tragic Error again, ask for another time of companionship.
He sighed as he leaned against a table, tapping his fingers on a table. Funny how he would have to pay a mercenary to be a friend on Valentine's Day. How very...very...pathetic.

Sometimes being alone just hurt.


----------------------------------------------------------------


Valentine's day.

Desultory sat in his usual home, the sewers. The only place he really could live, really--the streets were prowling with criminals, and thus, were no option. Homeless houses would be an option, but people would ask far, far too many questions, no matter how often he insisted he was of no importance and redirected their attention to something else. The sewers were often abandoned, and so many possible things to sleep on easily found. Most notably, clothing from those that had fallen in battle in the rare times people were in it. Sure, there were always sections of the sewers that were CROWDED with people, for some reason, but just stay away from those areas and Desultory was peachy-keen. The scent and constant noise didn't bother him, as he didn't hear or smell in the way typical humans could.
He had wisely decided to stay off the streets this day. Sure, love and romance was everywhere, but so was rage, bitterness, and jealousy.
Lots and lots of poison.
He would just go hungry that day.
Desultory shrugged and lay his head down on a jacket that he had found, curling up into a ball to prepare to nap. He couldn't help but admit an inkling of jealousy that coursed through him as well.
How long had he been lingering among the humans? Decades. How long had he finally taken form among them and mingled? About a month. And yet, in that time, already had he gained what he had thought was a friend--only to learn the feeling wasn't returned. She was only interested in sticking arrow after arrow after him like a pincushion...not at all in friendship.
Desultory sighed. He was banished from his home, and Earth was the second best choice.
At least, so he thought. He was constantly alienating and scaring others away, when all he wanted was a companion, a friend. And on this day, when LOVERS were being celebrated...those who were friend enough to mate with each other, he felt more than a little left out. Most of those who were emo were simply emo because they had no girlfriend or boyfriend.
Desultory was emo because he had no friends, period. He constantly scared them away. He wasn't human, and possessed different mannerisms than them--and what he did have often terrified others, for some reason. He presumed they didn't like seeing things so...exposed.
He shook his head slowly, adjusting on his jacket and closing his eyes, drifting off to a fitful sleep.

Sometimes being alone just hurt.





((Hmmm. Sensing a pattern? <.< ))

Sexy Jay.
Please.
For the love of God, please.

Wrapped Stilettos are STILL missing.

...I could've sworn this topic was originally about walking.

[ QUOTE ]
I play in Virtue and always wondered. I know it's the "unofficial" RP server but what would happen if the devs announced that it was now the "official" RP server. Always wondered about that.

[/ QUOTE ]
Whole slew of idiots trying to piss RPers off just by making that their home and constantly spewing off anti-RP propoganda.
Y'know, same thing that happens in World of Warcraft.

[ QUOTE ]
Virtue has way too many idiots nowdays, because it's a high-traffic server - a lot of that happened Villianside, because people didnt want to join freedom and joined Virtue. Villianside, I have a huge problem finding any toons to roleplay with, ever. And am simply swarmed with doomsday blind invites.

[/ QUOTE ]
I've got a new Stalker I'm playing around with, as well as a new MM. Feel free to whisper/friend Desultory (the Stalker) or Walter Redd (the MM) anytime I'm on. They're in their teens, though, so if that's too low to you, I also have a 32 MM, Kairaishi.
Hell, just chat to me anytime on @TerminusEst13

[ QUOTE ]
If a small coalition were to get together and start a RP server on like, Triumph, Infinity, I'd be there and rolling up a new toon and so would my g/f and my buddy.

[/ QUOTE ]
There's a small coalition on Protector, much to my chagrin. You could prolly talk to @EssexS6 or @Hallucinogen about it, they're pretty much the heads of it.

[ QUOTE ]
Virute's population type has gone down... or maybe it's simply that with more people there I notice the idiot population more.

[/ QUOTE ]
It's like that on every server, unfortunately. Virtue's the unofficial RP server, but with the good comes the bad. In Virtue's case, it has a lot of good, and an equal amount of bad.
Just...stay away from Pocket D and the "Mature RPers".

[ QUOTE ]
But I have a habit of checking bios on everyone I pass, and I'd say maybe 1/100 have a bio that's not a sentance like "bad [censored] mother censored"

[/ QUOTE ]
To be fair, most RPers prefer sentence-length bios or no bios at all.
Beats me as to why.

1: Virtue, for the most part, it's designated as the unofficial RP server. If you make it there, hit me up at @TerminusEst13, I'll give you a warm welcome as soon as I'm able.

4: If you've never started a topic before, expect a trickle of replies. Most people around here tend to stick with people they already know, so unless you've already got some friends and they seem interested in your idea, don't expect to hook many.

((So I'm assuming Sunday would be good for you, Ara?))

Church simply turned to face the hooded figure. "Follow." Was the only word he said. Turning to face the billboard again, he leaned down low and quickly unlatched two nails at the bottom of the board. He lifted it up, and it quickly became apparent that the billboard was actually two halves of slab held together, with...a portal in between them. Church gently pushed the figure in and then followed, closing the slabs behind them.

The inside was...a simple room. A large square room, made entirely out of stone. Candles and runes were enscribed upon the wall, as well as diagrams of ancient symbols of power, dissecting all of their parts and trying to find out WHAT made them so powerful. Sparky was in the middle of poring over a satanic pentagram when Church and the hooded figure appeared in the room with nothing more than a poof of smoke to announce their arrival.
Sparky didn't even turn from the pentagram, continuing to hover as lightning flickered about his eyes, the blond hair normally neatly swept back now spiked straight up--likely by the electricity, apparently he had been studying for a few days.
"I was not aware that the CCC had finished already, Church. Unless my second, third, and fourth sight fails me, it is barely begun. Why am I being requested already?" The voice was quiet, but it echoed around the room.
Church spoke calmly to match the quiet, though his voice didn't echo. "This figure has requested your presence."
Sparky smiled. "Mmm, yes. He apparently took an interest in the door, though it is a shame he did not remove the chains to see what was beyond it. There would be so many potential scenarios if the chains were removed. But perhaps he can sense beyond it, and knows of the dangers and the benefits that lie past it. But, I apologize, I ramble." He slowly turned away from the pentagram and turned to face the hooded figure. "If you requested to see me, you likely have a reason for it. Enlighten me with your intentions."

((Scor post after work. Dammit, I wish I could post more. <_< ))