Citizen
V&V Veteran
[b]OwO what's this?[/b]
Posts: 41
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Post by EpicBuffalo on Aug 5, 2016 0:17:57 GMT
"What a pleasant way to start the day."
He thought to himself nonchalantly as he began his isolated march across the bridge and into the display of infernal viscera and mess. His steps echoed through the scene, only reflected by abandoned materials and frayed shards of metal which jutted up like eruptions from the Earth.
"We're all going to fucking die here eventually."
Those words swamped his mind, as a gust of clarity dragged him into the harsh reality in front of him. Dried blood and flecks of cloth, wire and steel mixed effortlessly with dotted puddles of water, eutrophicated with gore. Being careful not to step in and defile the remains, he took short, quick steps wherever the chipped concrete would allow footing. The chilling, winter winds controlled the lifeless remains like weak puppets. They seemed so determined to lift from the ground, though they were stapled in place by the weight of their armours. A grim scene of ironic sadness. The equipment created to save had failed and turned against the wearers, bounding them to their unfortunate grave.
"Even making the most unimportant decisions can get you killed."
A dry, sarcastic chuckle left his mouth in a rough, yet delicate tone. Through all the violence on display, he could only hope that the straw that broke the camel's back had arrived, albeit deep down in his gut, there was a radiant feeling of doubt. He knelt down, inspecting one fallen, lifeless being. Even the most innocent of children would be traumatised at the morbid sight. A churn from within forced him to regain his posture as he felt disappointment in himself. He had hoped he could arrive stronger, both physically and mentally, albeit it was clear that his assumptions were wrong, at least for the latter.
"Maybe I'll be back when this is all over."
It was certainly over. For now at least. Though as it had done previously, the rush of uncertainty frightened him.
It was perhaps the only thing that did anymore.
*
How long had it been? Years? No. Not that long. Months? It was essentially a blur.
The boy had been sat alone in the corner of the mechanical setting. Howling steam vents and bubbling hydraulics filled the location with noise, as pulsating, crimson spotlights provided barely enough light for him to see his own hands in front of him. They were encased in pain, a feeling of nails driven in by a million hammers seared through his body. A trail of scarlet was left behind him, though there was too much pain and panic to locate the source.
-
With a deep breath, he raised one arm, set it back down by his side, and raised the other. It was going to be hard to get used to the sight. The matte, cold, ivory appendage in front of him moved slickly with a faint whirring and buzzing emanating just below where it faded into a mixture of scarred skin and wiring about two thirds a way along his upper arm. He was lucky enough to hide any wiring, being sure enough the self-invented compound would be plentiful enough to encase the entire system and strong enough to resist any shock to damage the vital components.
With a clench of his new fist, he turned to face what he had left behind. In the shadow of The Tower, a broken Heartania lay before him. He stood strong against the biting winter wind.
Alex Richardson began his walk off the bridge, defacing any of the punctured corpses as he stepped atop of them. A new passion burned from within that made him disregard the hellish visage behind him. He knew two things for certain:
[/div][li style="text-align:center;"]He would find Lilly Jones.[/li]
[li style="text-align:center;"] It was going to be a long winter.[/li] And with all that had happened, it felt good to be back.
[/ul]
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Post by iCaramelBird on Aug 5, 2016 0:45:14 GMT
- THE QUEEN OF ROSES -
Mira strode through The Citadel corridors, knowing where to go for breakfast. After having spent so long in this building she knew it like the back of her hand, it was something that she frowned upon, but at this rate, if it would bring food into her stomach after a tiring two months, she was all the more happy to revel in those memories. As she passed by the numerous rooms, filled with tearful men and women, she didn't glance back at the bodies that were on the bridge after entering The Citadel and tried her best not to glance at any of the people that seemed to stumble and struggle through the corridors. Guilt haunted her, but she remembered Seth's words, even that of her own, it was better now that people die then a few months when she could come back to a burning Citadel if Acchilleus gained more than he already had. Even still, it didn't do much to quell what little guilt was left inside her, she knew she wasn't the only one that day that tried to block out the battle.
As she helped to carry James in off the ice, she remembered leaving them with food and water before simply stepping outside, watching the carnage that she helped cause as the others cleaned up the bodies and the blood. She found herself sleepless, even then as she sat down at a separate table, having brought her own food onto the table, as she glanced out the window. It was exactly the same spot she sat in yesterday, moments after she played the first move of that day to prepare for the onslaught. She indulged in her warm pancakes immense relief flooded through her, not only for food finally being in her stomach but knowing that she finally set out with what she wanted to do, protected her family and better yet, now watched The Citadel tear itself apart. She was finally free. But she mulled over her plans, for herself and for Seth, knowing they were far from over, as she sipped some more of her coffee.
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Post by Adam on Aug 5, 2016 1:22:30 GMT
Dr. Killian Wolfram Killian sat in the cantine of the Marshal's headquarters, an empty, oversized hall with him sat directly in the middle. Using a napkin to dab the last of his breakfast - bacon, sausage, egg and tomato - from around his lips, Killian laid his elbows on the table and folded his hands together in front of his mouth - dressed and presented immaculately - and watched the news reports flooding in intently. Though only a footnote it pleased him that the battle at the Citadel had not completely eclipsed his Titan attack.
Emma Fitzgerald
Emma stirred in bed. School was cancelled, so one saving grace of the chaos of the prior day was that she could sleep more of the current day away. Edward too slept, unaware of the horrible acts committed by the men and women on that battlefield; across the entire city, and the world. When he would eventually wake he'd celebrate having the day off, unaware of the severity of the reasons why. Alex had enjoyed her cocoa with them before leaving soon after she arrived. As Emma grumbled back to sleep she thanked her in her mind for her levity and light.
ANOMALY | Rory Cross
A day ago Rory had faced a mighty beast in the streets of Heartania. All efforts looked fruitless until came the assistance of the hero Nimbus - operative of Argent Mind's Tower. It had been 14 years since - at age 14 - Rory took up the mantle of Alloy alongside the well-respected Argent Mind, fresh off of TV screens as young Wayne Carrott on the popular family sitcom; The Carrotts - cast for his ginger hair - after a studio fire consumed the main cast, most of the crew and his parents who chaperoned him. While he had mourned Rory was eternally thankful to be away from that film set, having worked there since he was eight, but there was another reason he was so thankful to have Argent Mind by his side - away from them. In truth, his parents were not awfully kind to Rory. They forced an acting career upon him and pocketed every penny he'd earned, but on top of that ruthlessly abused him at home; beating him where the bruises wouldn't show for the cameras almost nightly. He never learned why they treated him so, and he never would, but his life improved a hundred fold without them and under the wing of Argent Mind - Alf Jones. Present day and at least Rory wasn't up to what the rest of the former child stars were - drugs, crime and... well being dead before their thirty. Well, he still had two years left! Though don't be mistaken, Rory wasn't happy. Years ago he'd left Alf to pursue a solo career and soon after was left crippling disabled after an accident in the line of duty. Only his cybernetics kept him mobile now and he was on constant pain killers. He'd left Alf on bad terms, a row about how he was perfectly capable on his own, and now he was back - his disability a testament to his failures - inside Alf's mighty Tower's dorms, mere metres away from the man. Rory sighed, he had to see him eventually.
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That's clamtastic!
Posts: 505
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Post by VirtueNco on Aug 5, 2016 1:33:57 GMT
>> ARES << The brisk morning air bit at Are's skin as he stood stock still among the shrub. Pacify Hills caught the brunt of the ocean's cold winds, and at dawn the icy breeze was particularly ruthless. The cold tingled his battered muscles, reminding him that he was alive. Excalibur stood upright beside his leg, its tip plunged into the dirt as the golden hilt swayed gently. Ares' hand hovered a few centimetres from the grip, idling away from its natural position. The warrior sighed, his breath turning to steam as it rose past his face. Ares turned. Fifteen Wastelanders, dressed in contemporary clothing in stark contrast to Ares' burnished bronze armour, stood, watching him. The survivors, the last of the Warbander clan who had lived through this two-month-long downspiral, they waited for their leader to speak. He pressed his hand against his sword and opened his mouth. "We won this battle, just as we deserved to win. We fight as a family, something our enemies could not hope to have claimed, and that made us stronger than any weapon." He walked forward, joining the small crowd of warriors. "Our brothers and sisters laid down their lives on that bridge confident that we would fight on when they could not. Now, as they watch from the Endless Desert, they are surely proud that their sacrifice was not in vain." The speech was formal - too formal. It sounded rehearsed, it sounded as if he was an outsider, a general speaking to faceless soldiers. But Ares had been away from his clan too long for a personal speech to feel appropriate. "Our clan owed a grand price to the people of this world. Our warriors tormented and inconvenienced them for fifteen years, since the day we arrived to the day I walked away from the clan, and for that we must earn redemption. Yesterday we took our first towards repaying that debt." He looked down. His words felt hollow. Ares couldn't bring himself to choke out another sentence. As he stared at the ground for a few long seconds, he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. Gilferd, the axe thrower, and one of his father's old friends, was smiling gruffly at him in encouragement. "Ares Warbander," he said, addressing him firmly, "the Wrath of the Dragon, son of Darkin the Wise. Are you going to continue speaking from your head, or will you let that burning heart of yours say a few words?" Ares bit his lip, looking at the cloudy sky as it drifted over the landscape surrounding the Citadel. Gilferd was right; even if Ares had betrayed his clan before, they had accepted as their leader once again. It was time he started speaking as chieftain. He sighed again. "I was a coward. I walked out and left our families to pay for my mistake. The assassin who massacred our clan walks free because I was not there to defend them. Now, our mighty warhost, the greatest cohort of Wastelanders ever to walk as one since the days of the Twins, as reduced to us sixteen battered fools." "I made a vow when my father disappeared that the Warbander legacy would not end with me. Two months ago, I broke that vow." The warriors steeled their faces. This sentiment wasn't one that Ares felt alone - all of them knew that his leadership brought their downfall. Ares noticed the hardening gazes and gulped, thinking on his next words carefully. "I cannot repair the damage I did. But I can build us anew." He reached behind his back, under his fur cape, and drew forth a sword. Much smaller than Excalibur, barely the length of his forearm, but intricate with its black steel blade. The hilt was an ornate affair, fashioned to resemble a mighty winged creature, similar to the crows of this word but far more imposing. The wings of the bird spread to form its crossbar, rotating slowly as Ares balanced the weapon in his offhand. Ares spoke again, this time with an air of nobility. This was no longer an apology - it was an order. "My father, Darkin Warbander, the Ebony Prophet, was the last true Warbander king. In his name I bury his weapon on this hill, and with it I bury my bloodline. No longer do I rule over the sons and daughters of Gra." He drove his father's sword deep into the dirt then looked up, and the comprehensive stares of the warriors, his warriors, met him. They understood, and without a word he knew they agreed. "From this day forward you fight not as raiders, not as Wastelanders, not as the subordinates of Ares Warbander. Today, until the last of our days, we serve the people of this world, of Heartania. No more looting, no more raiding, no more conquest. From this moment, we will fight their battles as heroes."
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Post by AlexJ on Aug 5, 2016 9:58:56 GMT
GRACE SCOTT | STARLASS Heartania | The Tower 2nd December 2063 | 06:11AM There he was, exactly as she had remembered: with his grandiose register of voice, and a wisened facial expression. His slight limp was noticeable, but not particular concerning to her. After all, Argent Mind would always be a hero, and as such would forever find himself sustaining physical injury. He began worrying over her, which was rather sweet given the situation, although Starlass felt a slight air of tension that lingered from her last conversation with the elder hero (not to mention from the deception of Blacklist). Still, Argent was being kind, and she knew that the fault for some of that tension laid at her feet too. Preparing to speak for a much longer period than before, she rested her hand on her jaw, to make sure it was fully intact. Mercifully, it was, meaning she could get back to talking criminal's ears off in no time. "I'm fine Argent. Or at least, I will be soon," her voice was hoarse, and her it did slightly hurt her throat to talk, but Grace was just happy to be breathing, "I know you want to know why I left, and where we go from here, but right now I need some time to consider that myself. For now, I just want to ask you why the hell there was a massacre at the Citadel, and pretend that the two months prior to that never happened. Is that alright with you?" CLYDE IRWIN | KINETIC WARDEN Heartania | Citadel Bridge 2nd December 2063 | 06:13AM The Warden wasn't able to sleep much that night. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the mortal rush of the battle that had occurred in the very spot where he now stood. Whenever he tried to distract himself from those images, his mind turned to one singular question. What was going on with Ali? In attempts to avoid these dilemmas, he turned to the one activity that could dispel them both. Manual labour. He spent six hours aiding the movement that formed to clean up the bridge. Removing stains... and removing bodies. The continuous exertion of picking up sometimes large masses of flesh and bone took its toll on the Warden's muscles as soon as he took a breather, leaving him to ponder once more among the mists that enveloped the surrounding area. He collapsed his quarterstaff, resting it on his uniform belt, and began walking away from the Citadel. He elected not to teleport, instead taking the more scenic route to clear his head. It was one of the few chances he would get to be to himself. The Tower still needed him, and petty criminals wouldn't let the heroes of the city off, even on a day like this. He had to be ready, and he had every intention of doing so. Unfortunately for him, his breather was cut short as he approached the figure of an old woman, cupping a warm drink around her hands. Ali. He slowly approached her; his eyes narrowing with a mix of thought and judgement. If he was to be denied his fleeting solitary moments, he would instead rip the plaster from the wound, and get to the bottom of things. "What's in the cup?" He stood in front of her, arms folded. He was tempted to ask her right away; to ask her why she was acting so distant around him, but he ultimately decided to give her one last chance to explain, without him having to push for an answer.
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Post by Jaminx on Aug 5, 2016 10:50:35 GMT
Ali looked up at Clyde and sighed deeply. She could see the angry storm brewing in his crossed arms, the turn of the hip that had always made him seem slightly petulant in their youth. There was a hard truth coming she was sure but for now she answered the question she was asked not the hovering one that ate the space between them.
"Tea, weak stuff really too much milk and not a drop of whiskey for the cold but it was given out of kindness so I won't complain."
She patted the ground next to her with a small tilt of her head. He might not but at least if he did she wouldn't have to crane her neck up as she spoke. She took a steadying sip then asked her question.
"What do you really want to ask Clyde?"
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Post by AlexJ on Aug 5, 2016 11:12:59 GMT
CLYDE IRWIN | KINETIC WARDEN Heartania | Citadel Bridge 2nd December 2063 | 06:15AM He was half tempted to remain exactly where he was; standing upright as ever. Indeed, he did exactly this for a few moments, until he related and sat in the spot designated by his old ally. She was earnest enough to recognise the atmosphere around them: it was a nice change from the previous day. Deep down, the Warden understood that if Ali was initially hiding something, then it must have been incredibly grave. Still, out of all of the veteran heroes he returned to, even Lady Magnet, he had thought Sanator Hippocratia would be more forthright. He hoped the following conversation would return some weight to the assumption as he made his reply known, "You know what. Ever since we saw each other again, something has been keeping you distant. I only want to know what that something is."
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Post by Jaminx on Aug 5, 2016 11:48:18 GMT
"Do you know the reason I left being a hero not long after you were exiled?" Ali intoned calmly placing the small warm cup on her lap as she turned to face him.
"It's because one of our own asked me to kill someone we were meant to be protecting so that they could be back to full health. It was too much for me to believe that we were so selfish. That all of us could kill so easily and so few of us seemed to regret that decision when made. So I ran away."
Ali took another breath. This was taking too long. Just be honest and blunt you old fool. Her eyes burned only the hint of a tear building up at the corners as she made sure she held his gaze.
"I voted against you at the meeting. I regretted some of it later but I was mad at you, so deeply mad that you could become so blinkered that all you could think about was the killing blow and never a thought for the aftermath. That my friend could do that. Kill just like the so called villains still do."
Ali waved to the mess behind them. A scowl starting to brood upon them. Focus woman this isn't about the world its about him.
"I helped get their corpses out in that stupid spangly costume. I tried to find one poor soul still alive and the further we got in I was glad we didn't find any."
She took the tea and removed the warmth from near her skin. She didn't deserve its small comfort.
"Damn i'm rambling, you don't care about that bit do you." She waited for a reply, trying to keep the tumult of emotions from her face and failing.
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Vigilante
V&V Veteran
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Post by Arbor on Aug 5, 2016 11:58:04 GMT
Argent Mind Argent Mind's smile softened as he he gave a faint chuckle, mostly out of relief. This was the Starlass he remembered. Beneath it all, she was the same hero she had been. With good news like that, he couldn't help but put his own curiosity aside to grant her request. "That's perfect, my friend." He agreed, before moving over to the chair at her bedside. "I hope you don't mind me taking the weight off my old bones and sitting down? As you can see, I've taken a few hits recently that are slowing me down!" Twelve Power, online.Twelve's sensors powered up as he exited sleep mode, immediately carrying out an area sweep and a system check. He was still in L's house, from the looks of his surroundings, although his host was nowhere to be seen. Without a clear goal in mind, he paused, and began to consider his next move. What would be the polite thing to do, awake and on his own in L's front room? Make breakfast! L could eat food, she ate that cake when they first met where she gave him that sticker and they became best friends which was a lovely thing to do and he would do a nice thing for her now! Humming merrily to himself, he floated over to the kitchen, and got to work.
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Post by AlexJ on Aug 5, 2016 12:25:55 GMT
CLYDE IRWIN | KINETIC WARDEN Heartania | Citadel Bridge 2nd December 2063 | 06:16AM His suspicions were true. A part of Clyde knew Ali must have been part of his exile the moment they reunited: her face exemplified the bitter guilt that follows such an act. Now that it was out in the open as fact, he felt conflicted about how to feel. She was doing her job, fulfilling her responsibility, but some selfish part of him felt betrayed. He looked away from her, and away from the Citadel: to the mass of skyscrapers that stuck out in the view to the right of him. He clenched his jaw as he thought of what to say, eventually retorting with a half-baked scoff, "You regretted some of it," he bit his lower lip as he considered what to say next, "it was easy to get past this with Alf, and with Raylene it was never an issue, but with you... Although we never saw each other after it feels like you lied to me for about a decade now." He had received his answer from Ali, and saw no reason to stay. "You're say you voted 'against me' because I killed that monster. Well you should know that you killed in your own right. Clyde Irwin died when he had to leave his life behind. I hope it was worth it." Without hesitation, he began to walk away. His words may have been harsh, but he refused to revoke them. He was always stubborn that way. GRACE SCOTT | STARLASS Heartania | The Tower 2nd December 2063 | 06:16AM "You and me both." She began to laugh, but then the struggle for air caused her to cough instead. It was to be expected, but such a testament to her weakened state irked Starlass. But she was determined not to give credence to the idea by showing her frustration at it. Instead, she continued to converse with Argent, "Don't suppose you got that injury from an android impersonator?"
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Post by Jaminx on Aug 5, 2016 12:47:50 GMT
"Fine go sulk you stubborn bastard!" The words rocketed out of Ali's mouth before she could catch them. She stumbled to her feet knocking over the remains of the tea.
"See I bloody regret that death, I regret the death of a friend, that we didn't approach it in a different way. And not seeing you isn't a lie don't you dare put that sanctimonious crap on me. I regret not telling you yesterday but if I had tracked you down and told you all that time ago we would be in the same position now except I would be a whole lot angrier."
Real tears fell now. Big ugly tears that crinkled her face as she let go of their friendship all over again.
"You would do it again wouldn't you?" Her voice was smaller, jagged and broken but trying to retain the truth.
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Post by AlexJ on Aug 5, 2016 12:57:47 GMT
CLYDE IRWIN | KINETIC WARDEN Heartania | Citadel Bridge 2nd December 2063 | 06:17AM He had almost escaped her earshot, but Ali was quick enough to throw her sharp words toward him. They had been away from each other for too long, so much so that they had both forgotten how the other truly operated. It was a grim realisation, though it was a factual one all the same. She didn't understand, and she never would. A part of Clyde didn't even want to try and understand her end either. It was a situation as confusing as it was exasperating. He stopped in his tracks, sighed, and turned his head ninety degrees to the right. His eyes turned to stare at Ali one more time, his voice echoing a curt tone, "I already have." Unwilling for further confrontation, he teleported away. Where to, he didn't know. However he was sure there was work to be done; refusing to indulge himself in conflict, or in reconciliation.
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Post by Jaminx on Aug 5, 2016 13:16:40 GMT
Ali wiped away the tears and gritted her teeth after the reply she had received. By the time she had picked up the cup from the ground her normal demeanour was back in place if only a little bit more worn and tired.
It had to happen. She was not a liar, he had deserved the truth even if it meant she had to get rid of the holiday safety blanket on first return to the city, a return to her old friends. The blanket had already torn when she found herself back on the side lines patching up the fallen. His final words stung, but weren't surprising in a deeply sad way.
"We're both big old cowards." Ali muttered to herself as she began a slow walk to the tents, to where she had left the borrowed bike. This time she wasn't going to run away. However she was going to try to find somewhere to sleep. There was no more she could give this morning.
She brought up the comms set, she had been listening to on and off throughout the troubles, keeping track of as much of the situation as she could.
"Sanator here. Clean up is almost over, i'm going to head back to the Tower. All of you out there go get some rest soon. Its been a long night."
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Post by iCaramelBird on Aug 5, 2016 16:29:45 GMT
- HUNTER -
Luke couldn't bear the unsettling silence, finding himself fidgeting, his skin pressed against the uncomfortable textures of the thin mattress and even thinner blanket that had been shoved down to his knees. Now possibly the one last person who was left with him was silent, and for good reason, but that didn't make any of this better. If anything it not only made him saddened, but the numbness was now gone, replaced by a vile impenetrable anger, that was aimed at himself but more so at the people who got away, the people who clearly meant for this to happen, like Mira, but that was something else he would have to deal with. It was when James turned, having almost studied Luke it seemed for the past few minutes, that he asked a question, a question that only further fuelled his rage.
“Do you regret going into that battle?”
“What kind of question is that? Of course, I do,” snapped Luke, furrowing his brows at James, he stopped and looked apologetically at James' saddened expression, taking a moment to gather himself, slipping into that uncomfortable silence before he spoke. “I spent three years grieving for Lilly, and until she came back, do you want to know what I got from it? Nothing. I'm not going to go through the same thing, not again. I'm tired of grieving and I'm done with feeling sorry for myself. I'm not going to sit around, cry, and do nothing because I'm not the only one who lost someone, you lost someone, plenty of people did. How many parents do you think lost sons and daughters or even people like me have to lose their sisters or brothers? How many people do you think we killed and cause those losses?” Luke struggled to sit up, causing some look of alarm from James. “Lilly is gone, and it's horrible, I hate it, I hate that she died for me. But this time, I know she's gone forever, she isn't coming back and I've spent more than enough time wallowing away and grieving for her. I've lost almost all my powers, I'm hurt, and I almost lost you, there are so many things I need to focus on. So yes, of course, I regret it, but if you think Lilly would ever want me to just give up and go home, especially after last time then maybe...”
Luke felt himself unplug from the heart monitor, trying his best to balance himself though it hurt just to stand up. He took another look at James who was glancing away.
“That battle, what we did, and what we went through was horrible and you have every right to be sad, to grieve, but I can't let myself go anywhere close to last time, not again, you have to understand that. I'm here for you if you need me, and I know you've got take your time but sitting away in silence and pretending like I don't exist isn't going to help either of us.” James continued to look away, he seemed almost ready to utter an apology but that's not what Luke wanted. He grunted slightly, rubbing his left arm which was bandaged, as he tried his best to put on his shirt and pants that had been left on an empty bed next to another set of clothes, both of them slightly bloodied and ripped but it would have to do. He walked up to James' bed. “I...I'm going to go get my stuff and some of her own, she probably has it in her room. I'll be back soon." Luke felt no anger, only hurt, the blurred memory of falling with his sister was never going to go away. James simply nodded as Luke left the room, hurt, in more ways than one, but still standing.
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Citizen
Slavic Meme Master
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Post by Zircon on Aug 5, 2016 19:28:22 GMT
- RONIN - Ronin had arrived at his house a few hours ago. He had parked his bike, thrown his helmet off in his room, set his katana against the wall and had been laying down for the past hour or so just listening to music. He stood up, and looked at his phone, as the bright morning light spilled into his room through the one window next to his bed. He pulled his phone out, calling one of his ex-yakuza contacts that had also fled to America. He spoke in Japanese to the contact "Watashi wa shoki no yobidashi o okake shite mōshiwakegozaimasen ga, watashi wa atarashī renrakusen ga hitsuyōdesu. Watashi no genzai no 1 wa yoidesuga, watakushiha yori ōku no okane o hitsuyō to shite imasu. Maemotte kansha shimasu. Sayōnara." He said, pressing the end button after 'Sayonara'. Hopefully this would get him into contact with a few higher up people, instead of the current person he was getting jobs from. He was now considered 'for hire' by people looking for mercenaries.
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