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Post by Lunapocalypse on Mar 23, 2010 8:06:40 GMT -5
A small simple cabin currently wrapped in yellow police tape. Apparently a serial killer lair before the outbreak with a simple homely facade on the surface hiding, via a trapdoor in the kitchen leading to a dug out earthen tunnel, a small holding cell and a fully equipped torture cellar. Discovered when a lucky victim managed to escape leading a bloody trail through the house, the investigation was cut short due to the outbreak. However not all the evidence was moved to any police buildings in this time and the occupant/killer was never found, anyone who takes shelter here might want to have someone covering them.
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Post by #+h3 M!$+3r P@r@d0x on Apr 4, 2010 18:42:47 GMT -5
Tricell: Business Initiation: Black Division
Mission Type: Assassination
Code: Low Level Threat
Initiate: Tom Walker
Added Npc: Donald Wilson "Sleeper" - Acts as a overseer for Tricell Initiation Operations. Under direct order of Hammond Marlboro aka 'The Watcher'.
The cold, calculative standings of one of the most notorious hit men ever to step on United States soil was that Donald Wilson a k a “ The Sleeper”. He wore a tightly garbed leather suit that appeared to be skin tight to hide most of his features in the darkness. A mask covered his face from chin to the top of the bridge of his nose. There were no identified markings anywhere on his body to show individuality. He was very stealthy and carrier a small silver-handled dagger cupping it behind his back. With his entire body in a crouching stance, he had moved to a location just a few minutes away from his target location.
Just a day prior to the ’Go Order’ he had received communication from a man that had be chosen by ’The Watcher’ to fulfill a initiation contract. The contract was to eliminate a very pesky C I A agent that had recently defected off of Tricells payroll and was currectly hiding somewhere in the general area of a old and forgotten crime scene, known as ’The Butchers Paradise’ or ’The Cabin of Lost Blood’. Donald was not sure how the lore went exactly, nor did he care that some back-woods redneck was getting his rocks off torturing and dismembering tourists and the like. But with the current information at hand, he was sure that the agent was here… and they only had a few hours before the cube would release the toxins as it passed through the final part of the man intestines… They would have to move fast to complete this little game.
The night air was cool and stagnant with a full on musk of the swamps bog peeling through the nostrils of any around it. Mosquitoes also seemed to be more of a bother here as well than Donald had previously thought. The area of interest could be viewed from a distance as a old run down Cabin covered with Police tape. Obviously no one had been here in quite some time… He would have to think this through, and hope that the initiate could do the same. Most of the business aspects of Tricell revolved around be sadistic in a certain manner…. Money is power… But to take lives… that makes you a god.
He would as well hope that the man had remember the proper attire of black appointed leathers that had been requested to be worn, along with the CX-7 Experimental Flash Bangs(7), Slim Night-eye Goggles (Night Vision Goggles) and of course last but certainly not least the Ceremonial Silver Handed Dagger. The Dagger is registered with the victims blood-type to almost a exact fault… without it ’The Watcher’ could not appropriately accept that the killing was the initiates own… and ’The Watcher’ is a very picky man in these sort of things. All in all, he was here to make sure that the initiate did as he was told… a person with this kind of information already allotted to him or her could prove to be very dangerous if defected…
Donald would wait in the designated meeting spot for the Initiate to appear and answer the question to, “ What is the number of Power…” he would know that the correct answer would be, “Three.” Even though many people hired on still don’t quite understand that phrase… It is taken from the Three parts of Tricell that act as one Company.
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Post by brutus on Apr 5, 2010 1:41:12 GMT -5
The roads in this area were likely not well kept prior to the outbreak. In the time since, roots had taken their toll, sometimes raising the asphalt, sometime cracking through it. Constant thuds shake the Land Rover as he searches for a suitable place to leave it out of sight. A quarter mile from the meeting place, and miles from the target, Tom pulls off the road and parks the car.
He's dressed in a black leather suit that conceals almost his entire body. He is only bare from the neck up, and his eyes are hidden behind his newly acquired night vision goggles. As he pats the weapons strapped to his body, an AK-74, Glock, flashbangs, and dagger, he feels a bit silly.
Tom's a killer, sure, but he's accustomed to hiding behind lies and a smile, not crawling through the darkness bedecked in commando gear. To him, dressing as he has feels little like putting on a soldier's uniform and a lot like putting on a solider costume for Halloween. Still, instructions were instructions. Initiations were not the time to rock the boat.
On foot he makes the final approach to the meeting site, moving through the brush and staying off the road. He makes out a figure ahead, one he would certainly have missed without his night vision goggles. It's a man, undoubtedly the one Tom is sent to meet. It become clear that he is already aware of Tom's approach.
Tom stumbles as he takes his final steps toward Donald Wilson, nearly falling over. Grinning as he steadies himself, he says: "It looks like we're dressed for the same occasion. I don't suppose you're waiting here to meet someone?"
______________________ OoC: I know I'm not supposed to move the NPCs, but is it okay to do minor things with him? Specifically, I was wondering whether I should have made him give his half of the password.
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Post by #+h3 M!$+3r P@r@d0x on Apr 5, 2010 19:57:37 GMT -5
Npc: Donald Wilson
Donald braced himself as if to ready catch the man. Instead he stepped back before Tom regained his balance. His features showed absolutely no signs of expression, but in his voice you could tell he was a bit in a laughing sense…
Holding out his hand he moved it into a barred position with the dagger at ready behind his back. Swinging his left foot forward and right foot into a pivoted stance he brings the dagger very close to Tom’s throat. Due to the martial expertise of Donald and the cut throat business tactics of Tom. The odds were that Donald was far more hands on in a knife fight than Tom was. Donald moved his left leg forward just between Toms own feet, then barked in a near whisper.
“ What is the number of power?”
The since of the matter was that Donald was told not to take any risks with anyone approaching. The passwords were changed constantly and the chances of someone intercepting the information in a days period and assembling the rendezvous spot so quickly was something only imagined in fiction. But, in the world of cloak and dagger politics… anything thing was possible. Donald was not to take any chances.
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Post by brutus on Apr 5, 2010 23:08:35 GMT -5
Tom recognized the surety of an experienced killer when he saw it. He was quite confident that any action aside from giving the password would be the cause of his death.
“Three.” He said
Mr. Wilson’s caution bordered on the obsessive. There was no particular reason for someone to impersonate Tom at this place. Still, unwavering professionalism is a trait to be admired and is a reassuring ground while performing messy work.
“So, has anything changed? Or will this be as simple as making the final trek and making an introduction?"
Tom was silently concerned about any possible complications. Shooting a man who didn't know you existed can be fairly easy. But throw in a guard dog and surprise becomes a lot harder. An armed companion could quickly turn a hit into a proper firefight. To top it all off, one of the local yokels had told Tom about a tunnel running underneath the cabin. If that were true, his quarry would have an easy escape if he gets the benefit of a few moments forewarning.
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Post by #+h3 M!$+3r P@r@d0x on Apr 5, 2010 23:32:34 GMT -5
Donald retracted the dagger away from the throat of the initiate. Then his stance regained a sort of bow in apologies as he gazed gently beneath the mask. The code had been spoken, and order one was complete. Now they were to move on to a sort of mission briefing. That which Donald had memorized from front to back from the words of ‘The Watcher.’ He knelt down slowly as he pulled out the PDA-like device with mapping coordinates on it. It was a map of the area… including the Cabin and Sub-basement/cellar area. The caverns beneath showing a possible escape route… the other was a long corresponding tunnel to a dead end, which lead to a ‘Playground’ of sorts. This area was highlighted in green outlines. The project was not to read any status of life forms… only a mapping device pre-organized by ‘The Watcher.’
Donald spoke while trailing along with his right index finger and holding the PDA in his left palm…
“ From this current stand-point we are to follow a wooded trail to the direct eastern side of the Cabin. The Cabin itself has been desolated for some time now, but the cellar door should be accessible for immediate entry and exit purposes. Our target will be following orders of ‘The Watcher’ as well to receive a bribe set in effect due to some of his ties in the legal department. This man is a CIA Agent that has been snooping around the affairs of a less than happy Supporter. Instead of issuing a bribe, we are to eliminate him and retrieve a cube from his intestines…
“ ’The Watcher’ wishes for us to make it seem that the man was yet another victim of the deranged psychopath that roams these parts. I assume that means we have the liberty to play with his ‘TOYS’ before removing the cube… Should be interesting…”
Donald closes the PDA’s program then turns his attention to the path before them through the wooded area.
“ There should be no other sentinels in the area do to ‘The Watcher’ asking for the Target to come alone. His past records show that he follows orders to a fault. Should make this execution a cake walk.”
Donald slides his dagger into the sheath on the left side of his chest…
“ We should most likely try to stay unnoticed… Infects have pretty much been neutralized in this area… but we can never be too sure. Do you have any questions?”
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Post by brutus on Apr 6, 2010 20:57:53 GMT -5
“None whatsoever. Let’s get started.”
The terrain was rough, but the path was pretty well defined. Tom wondered if it was still getting occasional traffic. Though not a woodsman by any standards, he was able to keep reasonably quiet while moving toward the cabin, and doubted that The mere fact that Wilson had mentioned the possibility of infected kept Tom hyperaware of his surrounding, but he agreed that they were unlikely to run across any.
As the cabin finally came into view, Tom finds himself what sort of deranged act he will commit to give the impression that this death was at the hands of a madman. Shouldn’t be too hard to be reasonably convincing; it would take a scavenger hunt through the man’s digestive track just to meet the bare requirements of the mission.
"Do you want to knock, or should I?
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Post by #+h3 M!$+3r P@r@d0x on Apr 6, 2010 21:36:01 GMT -5
Donald smirks underneath his mask as a well defined snicker floods his nostrils. With a solid movement he approaches the side of the house where a window had already been half cracked open. To make the matter of accessing it seem like a cake walk he slid two fingers under the overly dusty lip of the frame then pushed the creaky window up and open with simplicity. Motioning a gesture to the initiate he slid into the window, rolling over a dusty wooden table with a creak… then landed in what seemed to be a abandoned sitting area. He readied his dagger, being cautious that the target may not have reach the assigned point yet. A corpse of a long dead but shortly un-animated female lay just steps away. He would get into a crouching position then move to the window signaling once again to the initiate that the coast was clear.
“ Seems like our target has taken the liberty of busting a few rounds into a dead head for us…” he showed a slight sense of humor, not his style by any means… so the phrase came off a bit cheesy.
He would then stay in a crouching position as if not to attract the attention of anything else that may be lurking in the small cabin. A heavy stench of long passed decay lofted heavily on his nose even through his mask… bodies were stacked in a minor pile in the corner of a crude kitchen. Each one showing the impressions of being violently butchered by a unknown assailant. Donald knew that these bodies were over a month old due to the decay processes… past the point of bloating and now to the point of festering… linens of flesh drooping from part of bone with almost a liquid look to them. He didn’t gag… He was use to this sort of thing.
He would post in the kitchen and wait on the initiate to move to his position. Sure that he would have no problem getting there. It was just a hop through a window and a short fourteen steps to his location. The hidden trapdoor to the cellar would be just beneath their feet once he got here,
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Post by brutus on Apr 7, 2010 18:23:24 GMT -5
Leaving the edge of the woods and approaching the cabin was a bit nerve racking. There was no proper cover, and so Tom had to consider that his quarry was already aware of his presence. Ignorant as he was of Tricell's standard procedure, he really couldn't be sure that this guy wouldn't have some way of suspecting his murderous intent.
The place stayed quiet though, and entrance was easily achieved through an ungraceful climb through a window. In the green glow of his goggles, a trapdoor to the cellar was clearly visible nearby. Tom shoots a glance at Wilson but doesn't ask anything.
He walks over to the trapdoor, and raising it feels a breeze of cool, damp air. Tom starts walking down the old stairs, unable to help the creaking the accompanies each footfall.
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Post by #+h3 M!$+3r P@r@d0x on Apr 10, 2010 0:17:34 GMT -5
Donald kept his own breathing down considerably as he watched the initiate make his first moves down into the dark damp cellar below. The walls of the crudely crafted stone cellar seemed to seep with water from the murky ground that rested just behind them. He thought to himself that maybe it was just a live spring in the area that created such a moisture ridden appearance along with the poorly maintained cellar itself not being touched in years. The though escape his mind as his vision turned to obvious signs of struggle in the corner of the wide cellar. Blood-like substance coating the cobblestone flooring along with a few dried linens of flesh… origin of the skin was unknown. Trailing the blood stained flooring led to the most prized possession of them all. Or at least to the sick bastard who once… and most likely still… lived here,
From a small bolted chain hooked to the wooden ceiling a corpse that could not have been more than three days old hung from a old rusty meat hook, with the hook entering the mid-back of the victim and escaping the upper chest in a almost expertly placed fashion. Through further inspection the apparent victim had been brutally slashed at with a very sharp object… possibly a knife or cleaver of some sort. Her lower throat had been completely ripped out leaving her head swaying back and fourth by a dislodged vertebra. Left arm showed that all of the fingers on her hand besides her thumb had been removed… by the looks of the damage he would assume they were all removed at once. She wore a locket and her clothing was now reduced to tattered rags of denim pants and a laced pink halter-top. Blood soaked all of her apparel.
This was not the only victim as of late from the looks of it. About three other random corpses were tossed aside into a corner of the nearly empty cellar.
Donald had noticed that the Initiate was now taking all of this in. Maybe he had some insight as in to what was going on with them. He had heard there was a killer… but ‘The Butcher’ usually did not kill in the fashion.
“ Looks like someone is trying to mimic ‘The Butcher’… Be on your guard in case things get sketchy. I’m getting a very bad feeling about all of this. {The Watcher} said that the target would be alone… these bodies all range from three to six days old… And… on top of it all… The CIA Agent is a gunning type. These people looked like they were massacred by one or more assailants. Ready your main weapon… mission parameter has changed.”
Donald sheathed his dagger soundly then pulled his Micro Machine Pistol from behind his back off the sling, preparing a clip into it and readying it with both hands in a proper close range stance. The sound of the piston popping a bullet into the chamber of the fully automatic hand gun echoed in the chamber of the cellar. Brushing his feet from side to side he moved gently into a more suitable area of advantage in case anything or anyone decided to make a appearance. His mask muffled his voice once more as he stated cold and clear…
“ If it seems like a possible threat… Blow the mother f***er away.”
The room around them was bare except for the bodies. Donald was giving the initiate a chance to ready himself and ask questions or comb the area of the room before moving into the caverns. Then eventually into the Torture Chamber mentioned in the report. For now they stood just below the kitchen in the supposed cellar filled with a few corpses. The smell is that a complete death and decay. The mood is that of high tension and possible stress.
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Post by brutus on Apr 12, 2010 23:33:30 GMT -5
The room's macabre decor was interesting, to say the least. The number of bodies strewed about was surprising, and not at all easy to explain. Tom considers the possibility that his target has already been murdered, and wonders whether that would be a good thing. If he were on his own, his instinct would be to take credit for the kill, but Donald would likely make that impossible. Tom suspected that Tricell wouldn't consider finding the CIA agent's corpse to be sufficient initiation. If he had to perform a second task to become initiated, he would be come quite annoyed.
He considers asking Wilson to check to see if any of the corpses might belong to the target, but thought better of it; he was obviously too professional to miss a detail like that.
Wilson, of course, would be asked to give some sort of evaluation of Tom when this was all over. While bravery for the sake of bravery was futile, bravery for the sake of an audience was not. After spending a few seconds quietly pacing the room and looking for any oddities, Tom shoulders his rifle.
He approaches the entrance of the caverns without a word as none seemed necessary and he was afraid of being heard. Voluntarily stepping first into a dangerous situation is quite unlike him, but worth it, if "takes initiative" gets recorded next to his name in a filing cabinet somewhere.
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Post by #+h3 M!$+3r P@r@d0x on Apr 13, 2010 21:40:52 GMT -5
Donald closed in quietly behind the initiate with a feathering grace as he gripped tightly to the Machine Pistol. His eyes darted into the long, rocky caverns ahead that seemed to abruptly end after a few hundred feet. This in no way shape or form… felt right. The caverns were drawn out before as webbing aqueducts that spawned at various points under the outlying area… the majority of them being filled with crystal clear water from well springs that seeped gently from the earth into large puddles on the ground. In this case, he would assume that the caverns were tampered with in some means… or that the entrance was hidden behind the stone somewhere nearby. He hated silly little games such as hide the entrance… especially when you have just so happened to walk across a group of people that seemed to have been victims of most recent murders… brutal ones at that.
“ Well… What do you think? Our target was not one of those unlucky bastards back there. On top of it all… the entrance to the rear area is hidden someone back here. Not that…”
Before he was able to finish his statement, a series rubbles came into place as part of the cavern wall began to move to the side with a loud roar. If the two were feeling exposed before… then now they were right out in the open.
From behind the large gaping hole a man crawled across the floor with one hand… Obviously for anyone these days it was apparent that he was reanimated. Although, the scheme behind his movement did not feel right as the being made advances without moving his arm… yet it was ‘sliding’ on it. The skin seemed brittle and hallow as it cracked behind the force of each sliding motion. A gurgling his escaping from the confines of its body as if to threaten whatever was within range. The corpse seemed intent on closing the distance between the itself and the Initiate as it made it’s approach. Each little inch sounding as if a small shrieking sound was imitating speech pattern… although not fully capable… “ …. He…p… Me…”
Donald knew right away that this creature was not the typical T-Virus mutation… The movement of the creature was unnatural… and it was capable… of… speaking? Then he noticed that the body was nothing more than mere skin with bones supporting it in some area… from the view of the mouth… the organs were not present. Donald aimed his Machine Pistol as if to open fire on the unknown mutation.
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Post by brutus on Apr 14, 2010 0:29:10 GMT -5
Tom experienced a brief wave of fear. Not the kind of fear from being approached by something more dangerous than yourself; this thing didn't seem very dangerous at all. But it invoked a kind of visceral and instinctive revulsion that rats and cockroaches have on many.
He decided not to shoot it though, almost entirely based on its oddity. T Virus sufferers do not, as a general rule, make verbal requests. Many lack the necessary organs, most are too stupid, and just about all are too homicidal. This creature was possibly something else- a mutilated victim of the Butcher or his copycat perhaps? But that would seem fairly implausible. Could such a severely damaged human being really move about without the aid of the T Virus? Tom really wasn't sure what to make of this.
Suddenly he notices its lack of organs, visible from its gaping mouth. Tom backpedals and fires a single at the ground between them.
"If you can talk, tell me what you are. Do not approach me."
This thing was neither human nor a zombie. That was strange, and strange usually meant incredibly dangerous. The survivor in Tom was inclined to riddle it with bullets. But he wanted to give it a chance to talk. If it really believed it might receive help from Tom, it might give useful information. Of course, maybe help was all it could say. A hail of lead would follow regardless of what it did, but Tom felt that trying to ask it a question seemed prudent.
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Post by #+h3 M!$+3r P@r@d0x on Apr 14, 2010 18:23:20 GMT -5
Donald backed up a fair bit while still training the Machine Pistol in a forward, yet defensive stance. The uncanny nature of the corpse was completely blowing his mind. ‘Did that damn thing just say help?’ his mind reached a point of not being able to make a single rational thought. The matter at hand seemed more like survival than just allowing the damned thing to inch closer. But then something that could have been complete fiction happened when the initiate spoke to it. It stopped.
A small barbed hook seemed to penetrate from the corpses shambling shelled skin. A dry crunching noise echoing as if the skin itself was made out of concrete. The hook was attached to something else that was non=apparent inside the shambling frame of a once human body, The hook rose gently while it became clear that it was attached to a black glistening tentacle-like apparatus… It moved as if a snake… giving signals of some sort to the initiate. Then a echoing shriek… “ He…p… me…” once again came from the confines of the body. This time the shriek seemed more of a taunt then anything, a motion from the tentacle shooting up at the ceiling as if to escape the husk.
Within what had seemed like a second, the tentacle was now bearing the beetle like husk of a unfamiliar creature. The assumed body was swollen and seemed very much pleased with itself as it slowly raised on the tentacle. The creature was nearly two foot by two foot at the moment but was decreasing in size as seconds had passed. Sharp syringe like mandibles gleaming feverishly from the apparent parasites mouth. When it fully left the host, the body seemed to crumble into shards of frozen motionless flesh as if it had been consumed fully from the inside. The now one foot creature shot a death curling scream in the direction of the two men who watched.
With the reflexes of a Scorpion… the small mutant scurried onto the ground… disappearing into the darkness in which the host had been dragged from. Donald realized something at that point and time was terrible. The contract lied before them in the shambles of what his corpse was. Dried blood draped carelessly over a small cube that was opened in location of where his bowls would be. Sticky gooey substance lining the inside of the cube. Donald sighed at the sight before him…
“ The Watcher will not be happy about this… It seems that our target was… poisoned? If that is the correct term… with whatever the hell that little bastard was back there. I would like you to just to scrape the blood off the cube onto your dagger and hand it to me… We should probably get out of here if that ’Thing’ decides to come back to claim one of us…”
Donald had a uneasy feeling about all of this that he would need to clear up later. Once this task was complete he would just allow the Initiate into Tricell Trading. He was not about to sacrifice them both for the sake of following the apparent parasite. Too much was already on the line. Not to mention… he had noticed the corpses that were cast aside occasionally twitter every now and then. He waited impatiently… his nervousness apparent.
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Post by brutus on Apr 14, 2010 22:46:41 GMT -5
Tom hesitates a moment and approaches the target's remains. The man's flesh, apparently worn and cast off as one would an old sweater, moved slightly, collapsing under its unsupported weight. Unsheathing his dagger, Tom kneels dips the blade in the blood present on the cube. The blade's color seems to be shifting, although through his night-vision goggles it looks like one shade of green becoming another.
Standing back up, Tom says:
"Mission accomplished. Hopefully Tricell remembers that this unorthodoxy isn't my fault. I'm going to ****ed if they decide this doesn't count as an initiation."
Before he finishes speaking those words, he has strode over to Wilson and presented the dagger.
"Let's leave, fast. I don't want to find out that there's a dozen of those things things in here ready to hollow me out."
The note of shakiness in his voice is unmistakable, but Tom doesn't care. He has absolutely no intention of fighting any novel BOWs or mutants or whatever this man-devouring insect was.
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