Juice: First Arc

[frisson]

Welcome to Juice. This rp will run loosely on an objective system. Check the front page from time to time for an update on objectives. It's up to you how to complete your objective, and sometimes your character will be confronted by a scenario. During the scenario you will be given several choices on how to react. These choices are suggestions, and you will always be given the "???" choice if you feel you can think of something better.

If you have not been given an objective you are free to do as you please, or help another with their objective. Or try to hinder them, I guess...

With each of the four arcs there will be one critical objective. These objectives will be difficult and rely on teamwork. Failing the critical objective will still allow you to progress to the next arc, but if two or more critical objectives fail throughout the course of the rp it will affect the final arc and the rp's ending.

The Story So Far
Under a declaration of World War, the combined forces of Imperial China and Finland were expected to make their assault on the UN, essentially starting with America, which had suffered a string of attacks from UAVs. However, this had been a distraction from their real target, the large land of uninvolved party Russia, which both countries intended to occupy to form a combined reserve.

Given the geographical positioning of the three countries, this had not been entirely unexpected on Russia's part, who had hastily strung up a defense barely in time for the pincer attack.

Under moral politics the UN began to send troops to aid Russia in defense. The battle had ensued for just a day when the juice virus suddenly broke from dormancy.

Another day, and under a rushed treaty mankind has united yet again to face the virus. Tensions are still high however between the factions. Some parties have broken into conflict with one another out of general distrust. However they remain co-operative in light of this greater threat. The infection is spreading worldwide.

The story begins in Moscow(find a reason for your character to be there), one of the few technological hubs of the country. A quarantine program has been sanctioned in the megacity, with civilians being hauled to 6 key safezones and soldiers constantly fighting back the infected as new victims are taken and the dormant virus reawakens even within members of their own rank.

The parasites are fast and constantly retreat and retaliate with growing numbers. These tactics have not been seen previously and so an effort is being organised to discover the source of this co-ordinated assault.

Objectives

All civilians are to make their way to the closest safezone! If spotted by militia you will be taken there by force. These safezones include Lokomotiv Stadium and Luzhniki Stadium among others. This objective may be disobeyed.

Military Personnel, including any Military Espers are either to be defending the safezones or part of a discreet briefing on an intel and infiltration mission between a select group of soldiers. If you're a Dog and attending the mission, you'll be under the command of Sgt. William Decoverly, who is manning the mission in co-operation with an elite "shadow squad" lead by a Luke Mason. The briefing is taking place on a modern aircraft carrier hovering above Luzhniki Stadium.

Good luck. Be imaginative. Be co-operative. Have fun.

 

[Tenyas]

"Ouch! Watch the needle, Doc!" Amelia winced as the instrument peirced the skin on her right arm. After taking the sample, the reinforced metal needle was removed and the woman was allowed to relax and give a sigh of slight annoyance. "Eh, so how many more times do ya need to do this?"

A well aged man in a typical white doctor's coat, hands gloved and mouth covered, walked over to one of the black marble counters and started storing the blood sample while setting a drop underneath a microscope. "Well, if it were up to me, I'd say at the most twice but, according to the higher ups we need spare samples just in case any of these tests go wrong." He chuckled whilst peering through the magnifier, "Ah, what a crazy world we live in. It wasn't long ago in our history when people were actually prophesizing that microscopic beings would enter their bloodstream so as to become the signal of the end of the world. Now look, we're facing just that right now."

The blonde-haired woman rubbed her arm, the area of the shot already healed to where you wouldn't even be able to tell she'd just gotten blood taken moments ago. "Last I remember, the idea that parasites would be this bad was right up there with flying cars and underwater cities."

"And that's when you forget the majesty that is 'truth in television', Amy. Hm, your little parasites seem stable, like always. Why everyone else's is acting up and not yours and other 'survivors' like you is a biological mystery." The tiny creatures under the microscope seemed rather docile, clinging to red blood cells and keeping them alive by generating the chemicals needed. In contrast, other samples taken from cadavers that had gone through full possession were rather aggressive towards the human cellular structures, increasing activity far above normal levels and, within a host, causing internal damage that is excessively repaired by the nano-invaders.

Amelia leapt off of the table she'd been sitting on and stretched, "Really? I'm kind of waiting to go insane again so this is a bit of a surprize. Maybe it's like a cold or something, there's a natural cure out there somewhere but, it's just really damn hard to track."

The doctor laughed and put away the slides he was examining, "Amelia, if this were like the common cold, then we'd have a long war against snot ahead of us. Now, go off and get some excercise or some lunch. You scare me sometimes with how little you do either and still manage to stay in shape."

Grabbing her thick camo coat off of the rack, Amelia headed out the door, grinning, "Hey, Mr. Schwitts, don't mock the two good things the buggers gave me. Got me my job, didn't they?" And with that, she left his office and began down the hall, passing other doctors and some of their patients. All of them military personel that had gotten injured in one way or another, a good number due to the sudden outbreaks.

Yep, just another day in Moscow, stuck in the middle of a large anti-parasite operation as both the lab-rat and military weapon. Oh well, at least the food was good half the time.

 

[Ordeith]

"Keep up with me, corporal--and look sharp! You're practically arse-over-tit!"

"Yes, sir!" Gathering his wits, his gun, and his touchpad about him, the shrimplike Corporal White--a fitting name, considering his sickly pale complexion--hastily scurried after direct superior Sergeant William DeCoverly, who had donned a new black barret and pair of large, reflective sunglasses just for the occasion. Being inside the aerial carrier, however, the sergeant had lowered his sunglasses down to the end of his nose, and was currently peering over them at the corporal with an impatient glare. He had unofficially appointed the other enlisted man as his secretary upon his promotion, yet the awkward corporal had yet to do anything to impress him with his secretarial work. White scrambled to his side, slightly out of breath, and DeCoverly frowned, this time a genuine one. He waited until Corporal White saluted and was at full attention before finally saying, "At ease. Come along, now!"

"Yes, sir!"

The mismatched duo briskly made their way down the confining hallway of the Juice-powered aircraft, under the pale light of Juice-powered light bulbs, Juice-powered weapons slung over their shoulders. Taking care not to appear too curious, the sergeant glanced out one of the thin rectangular windows to his right as he walked. Gray clouds were beginning to form beneath them, overshadowing the city of Moscow in a dreary cloud cover; it appeared as though it might rain in a few hours. Damn. Now my shades will only look bloody stupid...! Damn the weather. He saw in the reflection of the next window that Corporal White still trailing dutifully behind him, looking over the details of the mission on his touchpad one last time before the briefing. Guess I'll have to improvise; better to make White look stupid than me, not only because he is stupid, but because leaders have to look their best. "Think fast, corporal!" he abruptly shouted, tearing the sunglasses off his face and tossing them over his shoulder as he walked. White, distracted by his reading, only looked up from the touchpad at the last second; he shot out his hand to catch the incoming eyewear only to slap it down the hall in front of him.

Corporal White hastily scurried ahead of the sergeant to retrieve his glasses, only to end up running straight into the rock-hard stomach of a passing officer. The officer, by no means a small person, looked down at the corporal in such a way that a rhinoceros might regard a fly: Perfectly insignificant, yet just irritating enough to draw his attention. A stifling sense of awkwardness filled the hallway. Sergeant DeCoverly, once he'd realized what had happened, immediately initiated an improvised "save face" maneuver.

"Corporal White!" he barked, causing the already unnerved White to jump slightly, "Do you have any business being in the lieutenant's path!?" He had never actually taken the time to learn the military ranking insignias, so he hoped that this was indeed a lieutenant whose chest the corporal had collided with. "This will result in disciplinary action, corporal; do you understand!?"

"Y-yes sir!"

"And furthermore, corporal, dispose of those bloody sunglasses! It isn't sunny outside, and you have no business possessing them in the first place! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir!"

The lieutenant, apparently an actual lieutenant, seemed to be appeased as Corporal White saluted him and returned to Sergeant DeCoverly's side. Once he had passed, the sergeant simply gave a shrug and continued on his way to the briefing session, and once Corporal White realized that he wasn't actually going to be punished, he followed in suit. "Thank you, sir," he mumbled.

DeCoverly sighed again, this time in disappointment; the corporal disgusted him, frankly. He was hardly a competent secretary, let alone a competent corporal--but then again, he was hardly a competent sergeant either. Nevertheless, he felt sickened at the young man's lack of drive to emulate his albeit false example. Saying nothing in reply to him, he continued through the automatic door into the room where the briefing session was being held. Making sure to have puffed his chest out slightly before entering, he gave stony nods of acknowledgment to each of the men there--a personal touch, yet not one that weakened his masculinity in any way--and ordered Corporal White to mark off every man present on his touchpad. About a third of them had yet to arrive: a special ops squad, apparently. Sergeant DeCoverly hadn't actually read the mission briefing, but if there was a special ops squad involved, it was obviously something important. He just hoped that since there were more regular enlisted men present, he wouldn't be expected to do as much.

 

[Ulti]

It was quite a panic that sprung among the individuals of Moscow. On one beautiful day, the city came to its knees to the filth of its own citizens. People did not know what to do. Clearly, they were told to go to the Stadium. But you know hysteria. Once it gets you, you become a blabbering idiot. Luckily for those idiots, the militia were glad to be able to throw you in themselves. Of course this lead to some police brutalities when someone got a little too jumpy. That would fetch a nice article in the local newspaper. But it wasn't big enough for Raven.

Generally, the militia overlooked the secondary citizens. Animals had to think on their own paws. If the owner abandoned them to save their own wretched life, no one saw any fault. So it was not odd that hundreds of citizens and militia personal ignored the dog that was laying down in the alleyway. He was either asleep or dead, considering he did not care for the loud noises. May God have mercy on him and his brethren when the parasites breached this block.

"Putrid Parasites Pillage Peaceful Plaza"

The dog, now asleep and not dead, raised its jowls. A figure, cloaked in fabric decades out of date, crept out of the shadows of the alley. Raven gazed at the scene before her, taking note of the flow of events. She tapped the top of her camera, unconsciously beating the rhythm to an old song. The bloodhound yawned, curling his tongue inward, and then set his head on the sidewalk. The woman smirked at the old dog, gently kicking its rear end.

"Don't like it? Pah! Like you know title schemes. I haven't done P yet. Seems to fix this rather peculiar situation."

Raven ducked back into the alley as a group of militia men crossed the street looking for stragglers. Faze sensed the urgency and followed her. The two had already trekked multiple blocks into the city, dodging each and every patrol that came their way. Many times there were close calls but Raven managed to outwit any patrol that thought they had seen someone. Coming this far, she was not about to be sent to one of the Stadiums. There were no stories in there.

"Let's see. The military is shoving everyone southward. That means our story is up north. Break time is over Faze."

The bloodhound jumped at his master's call and trotted out of the alleyway first. He went up the street a few feet before trotting back. He gave a short bark. Raven bolted out of the alley at the call of her partner. The two made their way up the street, pausing only to hide between buildings when Faze sensed someone was coming their way.

 

[ThePromise]

"Joint Op with someone new leading the squad."

"Good luck, heard he was a hard ass ..not the best leader to ever bless the military."

"Yeah, guess I can see for myself ..I'll catch up with you later." PFC. Cameron Alexander bid farewell to his squad mate, Antonio Perez, who had decided to protect the safe zones while Cameron had decided on attending this little mission that had suddenly popped up.The two 'hardened' marines had spit up at the nearest corner, Perez heading off to report to his station, while Cameron himself had walked off to this little operation. Working this this 'shadow squad' didn't sit too well with him initially, but he wasn't going to judge just yet. Everyone knew that the real warriors, were the normal warriors ..at least that's how his squad saw it. No supernatural enhancements,no. A man and his gun was all that was required. And speaking of gun, he had already held his modified rifle carefully in his right hand, limp at his side without the need to eradicate an abomination, or warn anyone to stand down. He had to admit, without Perez, or mostly anyone else from the squad, this operation may not be as excitable. New people meant new impressions, and if the hard ass 'Sgt' was as bad as they came, this assignment might have been a mistake. No more competitive action on the field now. Cameron sighed and tried his best to feel motivated, and being one of the most motivated men around, even he had trouble. Felt like being the new kid at school, and that was never easy.

Before he had known it, Cameron stepped inside, giving a nod to a couple other men he had spoken to in certain assignments in the past. And then there was the Sgt. Raising his left hand to his forehead and giving a salute to this Sergeant. Didn't look as threatening as Cameron initially imagined, although people were rarely threatening in his eyes. If anything, Cameron just felt like laughing at him. Just cause. "Private First Class Cameron Alexander, reporting for duty, sir!" He held back a grin, always feeling like a fool when he did something like that. Most knew he was the casual soldier, rarely serious unless he absolutely need to be. It was his laid back attitude that gained him respect among his peers, although those above him frowned upon that sort of thing. You could never escape haters for long.

 

[MESMAR_RISING]

“What the hell am I doing?”

Muttering to himself as he ducked behind a pile of garbage, he knew exactly what he was doing but wondered exactly why he bothered to actually say that out loud. There wasn’t anybody else following him, or anybody at all for that matter, at least he thought. Frightening himself at the very thought, he – Anthony Redbridge – looked around hastily, shrinking back as a group of four soldiers ran by. Civilians were being ordered to enter the quarantine zones, details weren’t exactly readily available regarding why, but that was just as obvious as what exactly he was doing behind the garbage. The virus had once again broken out, and chaos resumed. To answer the question he had proposed to himself? That required a bit more of an explanation, one that the arsonist had no interest in dwelling upon now. All that was important to him at this point was he needed to avoid detection.

Running his right hand through his dark brown, almost black hair, the young man stood up and stepped out into the paved street. Stepping into the light, he was revealed to be wearing a light, grey, military inspired coat that reached just above his knees. The coat was missing its top button; Anthony had lost it earlier that day in a crowd. The now semi-open coat revealed that he was wearing a grey, itchy-looking v-neck sweater and blue jeans that fit his slim figure. His shoes were some generic sneakers that at one point might have been fashionable, but looked so worn that none would have paid any attention to them now. The twenty-nine year old really didn’t care about his appearance at this point though, his pale face showing the obvious panic that struck him as he heard a military vehicle approaching in the distance. Diving back into the alley and once again behind the garbage that he had just left, he cursed his stupidity for not just following the crowd earlier.

Then again, would that have been any better? He’d heard stories about people who were taken by the military after the outbreak – not from any actual people mind you, he had read one of the headlines while he was working. He couldn’t remember the exact term, but one of the reporters had broken the story not long after he had started working there. Even though most remained sceptical, what if it were true? Would he be any use to the military? These and more rhetorical questions were interrupted as the military vehicle drove by and the pounding of Anthony’s heart silenced all thoughts and things went from bad to worse as a nearby light bulb exploded.

The squeaking of the vehicles brakes nearly made him wet himself as his breathing became shallow and he assessed the situation. He could either give himself up in hopes that they might take pity on him ultimately bringing him to the quarantine zone risking discovery, or run away through the heavily occupied city in hopes that for once his luck would have improved and he’d avoid all contact with anyone seeking to round up civilians. Being the decisive person that he was, Anthony clasped his hand over his mouth instead choosing neither waiting to hear the footsteps of the one that in mere moments would discover the janitor. In that moment that seemed like hours, he thought of many things, oddly enough stopping upon food. He wondered if they’d have any food in the stadiums with the rest of the quarantined civilians or if taken he’d even be put with the civilians for that matter.

 

[Endgame]

Luke Mason supressed a smile as a large, barrel-chested man strode confidently into the room, trailed by a gangrel, pale subordinate. The brass, no doubt, here to attempt to bring some sembalance of order to the room of confused soldiers.

He and his six-man team had been in the briefing room since 10:30 that morning, though nobody seemed to have noticed them yet. Probably because they were wearing standard uniform, and looked no different to any of the other soliders around them.

"Should you really be doing... ya'know? ...In here, boss?"

Mason ignored the question, and raised the dull metal flask to his mouth again, licking his lips as the liquid began it's slow burn down his throat into his stomach. What were they gonna do, court-martial him? As if. Besides, he reasoned: It's the Motherland. I gotta celebrate somehow.

"Boss?" Kovinsky repeated, and Luke sighed, and offered him the flask. The tall, by-the-book man furiously shook his head and stammered his refusal.

"Kovinsky dosn't drink Vodka." The huge, hairy soldier they'd all come to know as 'Snuff' laughed, snagging the flask from Luke himself.

"Is not Vodka." Luke stated as Snuff took a gulp: "Is Whiskey."

Normally, his accent was barely noticable, but lately, ever since they'd been ordered to Moscow, it'd been growing more and more predominant. He put it down to some kind of nostalgia, the same concept as when you see someone you havn't seen in a long time, and start talking like you used to when you knew them well. That was kinda what it felt like, too: Catching up with an old friend. A friend with cancer.

"Is really getting heated up down there, yeah?" stated Mitsubishi. His real name was Tadakatsu Mitsunoichi, but the rest of the squad had decided that was too much of a tongue-twister. He was right. From behind the plexiglass window they sat beside, tendrils of smoke drifted lazily up from the streets of Moscow. Juice-based weapons had their advantages, but one of the disadvantages was that the superheated projectiles had a tendancy to set things alight.

"Private First Class Cameron Alexander, reporting for duty, sir!"

"Cameron Alexander? You've got two first names?" Snuff gaffawed at the reporting soldier from his nearby perch on a shipping crate: "Douche."

Luke rolled his eyes. Why couldn't Snuff ever keep it to himself? Now he was gonna have to fill out an incident report.

 

[Wynn]

With the military taking over the busy streets of Russia's pride and glory, Moscow had quickly resembled the situation that had occur a few years back when the infection began. Even though most of the city was already under siege by its own denizens, this did not stop Alex from roaming its streets with his taxi cab. He had been sent there by the UN a few weeks prior to monitor the city in an undercover fashion. Quite the difficult task, really. Considering he's of Chinese descent and the seed of ignorance was still blooming in the minds of the few people whom he had interacted with back then, getting by was almost as daunting as his mission. However, his mission was cut short by the impending invasion of Chinese and Finnish forces. In light of this situation, he had to gather up all his reports on Russian political groups and meet up with the nearest UN outpost in order to secure his safety since he was an invaluable asset and all.

This was not apparent to the ground soldiers though. As he drove by a patrol group, they had the intention to order him to stand down and get out of cab or else they would open fire. Obviously, he didn't stick around to hear them say that with his ears but one glance at them already gave off that much. Alex kicked his cab into high gear, evading what would've been a critical situation. Immediately after, he opened a communication line to the UN outpost which supervised his operation.

"Alex Wei Chiong reporting in. There seems to be a problem. UN ground infantry attempted to open fire at me, which I highly doubt is on high command's orders. Over."

"We cannot risk letting your identity be known to every last one of our troops, Chiong. We had made an alliance with the Russians and if they find out we had sent a sp-"

Alex turned the line off with disgust. He did not need to hear the rest since anyone with common sense would know what would be the result if that were to ever become a reality.

A few streets down, he halted to a stop on the left side of the road. Opening his glove compartment, he took out a a plastic bag with a half-eaten submarine sandwich. All that stressful driving had worked up an appetite. As he ate, the presence of other beings in the area could be felt by him. Whether they were friend or foe was completely unknown. Taking a chance at giving his position away, Alex shouted at the general direction he felt the beings came from.

"Who... Who's there?! Come out!" said the uneasy Esper, starting up his taxi's engine just in case something goes horribly wrong.

 

[Piercing Light]

"I'm starting to hate this bloody country." Jessica sighed as she laid her head on the collapsible table by which she was sitting. When she was first assigned to her post at one of the stadiums, it sounded like it at least wouldn't be as mind-numbing as sitting in a military base listening to old men spout political mumbo jumbo all day. How wrong she was, for now she was stuck here helping handle the quarantine of civilians. "Jess-Chan, you really shouldn't say such things, I'm sure things will get interesting soon." Jessica slowly looked up at her female partner with tiered eyes. She was from Japan, and was a year older than Jessica, although you could hardly tell based on how she acted. "Whatever..." The Psychokinetic responded apathetically. The two of them sat there for a few minutes exchanging discussion, when an officer approached them. "Mam' it's going to rain soon, might I suggest you go to one of the tents?" Jessica frowned, looking up at the cloudy sky. "Great... No I'll stay out here, what about you Nanako?" The spiky haired woman pulled out an umbrella seemingly out of nowhere. "I'm good here." Jessica smirked in amusement. "Alrighty then." She said, laying her head back down as Nanako began to talk once again about random things. A moment later the rain started to fall, first in small drops then into a steady drizzle. Jessica did not get wet however, as she had created a small force field around herself like a thin barrier. The water simply flowed right off her. Her partner smiled. "Show off."

 

[Kiba]

The sky darkened gray as the clouds drifted slowly over the sun. The sound of soldiers footsteps and firm orders echoed throughout the almost empty streets. Most civilians had been escorted or forced into one of the two stadiums in the now quiet and somewhat depressing city. Only those who chose to rebel against the orders of the government were still out. There was one person in particular that was running about the city, merely avoiding detection. Dmitri Sokolov. The news of the Virus awakening from dormancy had reached every corner of the world. He had been traveling somewhere in the Italian countryside when he saw the news article in one of the old fashioned stands.

Why was he in Moscow? That's what he wanted to know. Occasionally his 'teleportation powers,' if that's what they could be called, activated on their own. He had narrowed what triggered this odd occurrence down to stress, pain, or any other strong emotion. Unfortunately it happened at random and he wasn't too sure why he ended up in Moscow. Sure he had grown up in the city but he had no inclination of returning. It was in this very town that he had contracted and overcome the virus which gave him these weird abilities. He had no explanation to why he had these 'powers' and most scientists would only try to dissect him like an elementary science project.

Dmitri shook this thought from his head as he turned quietly down a small alley. At the other end, running towards what he believed was north was a woman. He quickly ran to the other end of the alley barely dodging detection from a pair of soldiers who were halfheartedly patrolling the streets. He poked his head out from the corner and looked in the direction of the woman. The stadiums were to his back confirming that she was heading north.

He turned and quickly ducked back into the alley as a cab zoomed past. "Fu-"

"Come on!" exclaimed a soldier from the other end of the alley. Dmitri turned and saw that the man had his back to him speaking to another soldier. He ran out of the alley and noticed that the cab that almost sighted him had stopped a couple feet away. The man had his head out of the window and was shouting at some unseen person. He apparently didn't know that there were soldiers nearby. Dmitri needed to get out of there quickly so he ran quickly past the cab and in the same direction as the woman he had seen.

 

[Orion]

Two men who looked roughly the same stood a few feet apart, one terse and in uniform, the other dressed in dull colours and many layers. The civilian spoke: "Sir, I need to use the toilet."

In the last half hour, Adrien Langdon had been keeping a close eye on the growing crowd in Luzhniki Stadium, especially the interactions between soldiers and civilians. He didn't like that they were all being herded into a single area, and the flying fortress that was just starting to block out the sun didn't help his mood. Adrien expected bigger for the re-emergence of the virus, but he being one man, what was gathered around him was almost overwhelming.

Watching as each person approached a soldier, Adrien noticed that each soldier was required to travel with the civilian, however reluctant they may be, rather than palm it off to a single toilet-guard. After discovering this, he kept an eye out for a soldier about his size and shape. Enhanced vision and his height made it easy. There were three around seven feet tall, though only one without facial hair, and he would have to do for Adrien.

The soldier understood the request, or at least the word 'toilet' and what it implied, and grunted in affirmation. He lazily pointed his gun in one direction, bent his head toward it as definite indication, then strode off at a brisk pace with long steps. Adrien kept it easily.

Adrien took a surprisingly long time in the toilet. Nearly fifteen minutes later, when the guard was clearly becoming irritated and began making short, sharp demands in Russian, he left the cubicle. He took extra time washing his hands, letting the water run with the right volume of trickling. It did the trick, because as soon as Adrien began to dry his hands, the soldier flipped his gun on it's strap to behind his back and went over to a urinal. During this time, Adrien leaned himself against the wall dividing two cubicles, hands behind his back.

The soldier returned to wash his hands, and in that moment, Adrien struck.

A push off from the floor with one foot, a hand and the other foot pushing off the wall, and Adrien had his hand over the soldier's mouth in a vice grip in well under half a second, and in half a second, had something prodded into the back of the soldier. He squirmed briefly when he realised what it must have been, but after that, Adrien really had to hold hard to keep the man's mouth closed against his monstrous convulsions. He wouldn't have been surprised if the soldier now had some dislodged teeth.

Adrien pocketed the taser when the soldier went limp, and hefted him over a shoulder. With stealthy steps, he left the room, and managed to navigate the corridors of the maze-like underground passageways of the stadium to a sufficient degree that the soldier would likely not be found for over a month. Adrien dropped the body with little care, and shoulder-tackled a wooden door open, and flicked a switch that brought the storeroom light on.

The soldier was promptly stripped, and Adrien did the same for all but his undergarments, which included thin but effective top- and bottom-thermals. After that, the soldiers clothes were put on with great care for authenticity. When Adrien picked up the gun, he could almost feel the Juice inside it. He hefted the soldier up again, and deposited him into a wheeled rubbish bin that was empty, body bend at the hips with shins touching shoulders to fit him in. At least it would be incredibly difficult for him to escape on his own.

Adrien then wheeled the bin into a corner, and for about a minute more, piled the items of the room around the bin. After that, the light was switched off and the broken-down door replaced with a slight amount of care. At that point, Adrien ran. Hard. He hadn't a hope of convincing through speech that he was one of the soldiers, though since most of them had remained silent, perhaps that wouldn't be a problem.

He followed the route he had come by with keen memory, and further back once more onto the stadium grounds.The crowd was bigger, the noise louder, the usual stink of gathered humans stronger. He didn't seem to be sorely missed when he moved back into position, and resumed his duties, gun held close-to-ready, with his head slowly panning the crowd.

 

[Ordeith]

For a brief awkward moment, all Sergeant DeCoverly could think to do was stand where he was and do nothing; he must have scanned over each of the enlisted men at least three times and was frantically searching inside his head for something to break the silence with, all while keeping his face as stony and emotionless as possible. Where the bloody hell are the special ops?! All this standing around is doing nothing for my image, and bloody first impressions are everything... Sergeant DeCoverly was about to reiterate these sentiments to Corporal White, who had once again become absorbed in his touchpad, when a sudden shout startled him from his inward thoughts.

"Private First Class Cameron Alexander, reporting for duty, sir!"

In spite of how sharp and alert he may have appeared to the men in the briefing room, DeCoverly had been so absorbed in the task of finding something to say that he was completely oblivious to the young private approaching him until the young man was standing right in front of him with a smart salute. For another hour-in-a-moment, DeCoverly could do nothing but stare straight ahead at him, holding his stony appearance together. Finally, he was able to spit out a grave-sounding, "At ease, private." He could already tell that he wasn't going to like this fellow at all. Ignoring him with the hopes that any awkwardness in his response (which there shouldn't have been) could be avoided if he kept a consistent appearance of competence, he turned to Corporal White and murmured, "What the hell happened to Clarke? Isn't he a part of this whole operation? He's under my command, isn't he?"

Corporal White, seized roughly from the world within his touchpad, gave a slight start, and--after hastily gathering himself--softly replied, "Sir, Private Clark was shot in the leg during our last mission; he's been out of commission for a few weeks now." DeCoverly nearly groaned aloud; out of all the men under his command, he had always been able to rely on Clarke to obliviously follow every order he issued, no matter how stupid or menial. The sergeant was fairly certain that Clarke would have stuck his hand in boiling water if he told him to, and only remove it when given the order to. Now I've got to actually take the time to "get to know" another one of these blokes. Lovely....

After bitterly dwelling on this thought for a while, Sergeant DeCoverly decided it was time to get things under way, "shadow squad" or no. "Men," he barked, looking so gravely engaged in what he was doing that one simply couldn't question his competence, "in exactly fifty minutes we will be engaging infected firsthand in combat, at the site of the virus outbreak." The amount of time was complete guesswork, but he always had Corporal White to support his claims that he had indeed said "forty" instead of "fifty," were that the case.

"By that time, most civilians will have been escorted to quarantined areas, leaving the streets clear for us to travel by. Our goal is not a complicated one, soldiers; we enter, we clear out the infected--animals and humans--and give the clear for the place to be closed off. Sure isn't rocket science, but there is a science to it, so I expect each of you act according to it, understood?" He gave just brief enough a pause to indicate he expected a response, but not enough to actually receive one. "Accompanying my troops will be special ops unit 'shadow squad,' which is specially equipped to take out the nastiest things crossing our path. The primary goal is to eliminate as much of the virus in Moscow as possible. Is this all understood?! If you have any misunderstandings, now is the time to voice them."

 

[Sepulchre]

This is gonna be one of those days.

Everyone says that now, don't they? No, really, they do; and not just they, whoever they are, but you do, too. If even the slightest thing goes wrong from the moment you get out of bed until your sitting at your desk at work, it's automatically 'one of those days'. The milk's gone sour? One of those days. Car won't start? One of those days. Alien parasitical invasion? One of those days. The more cynical of us might be inclined to believe that everyone's too used to having the well-oiled machine that is society do every little thing for them to the point where – when it inevitably needs a bit of repairing – we all start winging like the little spoiled brats we are when it doesn't go our way.

But when Louis had finally managed to pull the unclean syringe out of his kneecap and pick broken pieces of glass out of his spine after he'd stopped vomiting borscht and expensive vodka all over the place – while completely naked, no less – he felt he'd earned the right to say it and damn well mean it.

The tip of the needle bounced off the porcelain bathroom tile with a sound like a fingernail flicked against a glass bottle; rattling about for a second longer before it coalesced with a thin puddle of beetroot and Smirnoff at Louis' feet. A shame, too; the tile layout was rather exquisite, particularly for a bathroom, to the point where it came across as anachronistic when compared to the rest of the rather primitive architecture. Newly refurbished, no doubt; although why the landlord had decided to incorporate a detailed image of the Kremlin into the bathroom floor of one of the flats instead of improving general living arrangements was surely a question that deserved an answer. It probably wouldn't be a very interesting answer, but it deserved one nonetheless...

Taking another glance at his kneecap, Louis breathed out a pent-up sigh; whether one of relief from the pain or in irritation of what else he'd be forced to go through by the end of the day he wasn't entirely sure, but at least he didn't have to pretend he was interested in the bloody floor any more. The fairly deep hole that had once occupied the middle of his knee had been replaced by a flaking scab surrounded by a wasteland of dried blood which Louis brushed off cleanly in one stroke; the scab giving way to reveal a small, pale dot on skin that was already milky-white. He lifted his leg up and flexed the muscle, just to be sure. There was a bit of stiffness, a little resistance... but he was otherwise fine.

The 'cellular regeneration' bit was always absurdly freaky; he had to admit. Oh, Louis had gotten used to being stronger and faster than regular people quick enough – well, the 'faster' bit, at least. It was always strange to think that he was probably a good deal stronger than half the people he ended up running away from when his adorable hijinks went sour. Even copying other people's genetic structure and turning invisible was easier to think about in the long run; but when it came to rebuilding lost tissue in moments... it was just too weird to look at. Hell, he'd once tried cutting his wrists, just to force himself to watch the healing process. It had taken him an hour to work up the nerve, and then he;d ended up turning invisible afterwards instead. Pathetic, yeah... but still. It was discomfiting; having your own body just pretend it hadn't been injured when you'd just seen it happen less than a minute ago. Kind of like... denying reality to suit your own ends. Dangerous thinking, that.

Well, not that Louis even really had the time for thinking of any kind. There was another world war of some sort going on, as his neural implants were kindly reminding him every few minutes, and – considering the eye of the storm was apparently right outside – he didn't have the luxury of indulging in a bit of quiet post-hangover contemplation on the toilet. Ah, but the whole thing really had the sound of a nightmare scenario about it, didn't it? It had it all; a needle in a sensitive area, a distinct absence of clothes, magically vanishing wounds, an alien invasion... again. Ah, but only in the real world could something so quaint actually occur. Sure; a bad dream can scare the hell out of you, but only in what we have the gall to call 'reality' could someone say it meant you wanted to have intercourse with your mother and still keep a straight face.

Oh, there he was digressing again. Really, now; there was no time for any of that nonsense. He needed to get a shower, get dressed, consume a packet of painkillers as quickly as he could and get the hell out of town as fast as his two legs could carry him. Which was, he had to admit, pretty damn fast when they didn't have used needles in them.

But right after the shower, of course, he would have to decide on something to wear. The apocalypse and a mean hangover, while each formidable in their own right, were still no excuse for a fashion faux pas.

 

[Ulti]

"Well, this sucks."

Raven peeped out of the corner of a supermarket. Faze was at her heels, poking his nose out slightly to get a scent. Their little plan of "Alley Ducking Until Something Fun Happens" hadn't go quite as planned. Something did happen, but not nearly as fun as she would have imagined. A blockade was formed on the last block of the city. It looked like a thick line that separated two different cities. While on Raven's side, the city was nearly normal, the other side looked like something out of an Armageddon movie. Or rather the movie itself. Any end of the world movies are terrible wastes of time and money. This was the line that separated the humans from the parasites. Beyond this was certain death or worse - infection.

Picking up some sharp object in the trash, Raven traced out a map of the area around her on the wall. She wrote "End Zone" over the left portion of the map and "Center Field" on the right. The line down the middle of the map was dubbed "Defense". Raven could think better if she related a situation to a sport. She drew a quick head drawing of her and Faze and a little football over their heads.

"Alright team here is the plan. We gotta take take center field and break from their defense using the Liberty play. Confused, they will be running around like headless chickens. We take advantage of their lack of formation and charge the break. Understood, team?"

Faze licked his chops. Frowning, Raven scratched the entire map from the wall, leaving a mess of unreadable words and drawings. There weren't enough soldiers on the field to make this work. And Raven could not go and do her normal routine. She didn't bring her best bribes and worst blackmail with her that day. Too many eyes to sneak by. If they got caught, surely they would be forced to return to that boring dump they called a safe zone. No, the story was out there. She would surely be the first to write a report on the menace of today.

"Alright then. Our final plan is to wait for some idiot to cause a big enough distraction for us to get by without trouble. Let's play Tic-Tac-Toe until he gets here!"

 

[Orion]

In the space of an hour, Adrien guided a single civilian to the toilet, and otherwise sat as ramrod straight as he was able, and avoided the glares of other soldiers when their eyes briefly met. Such occurrences had grown common, and Adrien suspected that his disguise was wearing thin. Two soldiers to the left, and two soldiers to the right, were guards both speaking into their comm units. The movements of their mouths indicated that they were both speaking to each other, and another person. Adrien's eyes swept across the expanse of the stadium, but spotted no other soldiers on radios. The soldiers on either side of Adrien were also eyeing the ones with radios.

The chatter of the radio-soldiers ceased, and with simultaneous nods, affirmed the action that the guards adjacent to Adrien were prepared for. Their hands immediately moved to their guns, but by the time they had them ready to fire, Adrien was already clearing a swathe through the mass of people, knocking over and pushing aside any who he couldn't easily dodge around. A large family, of some thirty or forty members, were apparently stupid and brave enough to stand in his way, understanding the soldiers wanted him stopped. They locked arms and pulled themselves close together, but their efforts proved fruitless when Adrien bounded over them in a single leap, landing on top of a fat man who stunk of vodka, separate from the family.

When finally a squad of soldiers was organised to properly pursue Adrien, he had been out of there for nearly a minute, courtesy of an obscurely-placed window he broke open. He followed a street the window faced, and parked himself behind the steps of a house that passed straight onto pavement. From there, he willed himself to calm his breath, and waited to see if he would be able to escape the soldiers and return, or kill them. Unfortunately, hiding in the stadium itself had simply not been an option. There were far too many ways he could easily have had his entrances blocked by numerous gunman. Before too long, though, he swore he heard someone passing by with light footsteps, and the pant of a dog trailing it.

 

[Tenyas]

"Alright, a walk..." Amelia looked skyward, watching as a helicopter went whizzing by rather speedil, making a small note on where it was headed. If she stayed here long enough, she'd probably be sent there as well to combat whatever the heck the military wanted her to. She'd heard the occasional rumor between the doctors about testing on the troops to find out who was immune to the virus, if there were any others like that anyhow, and how to better use them. Amy didn't doubt the idea that she'd end up becoming a weapon of some sort, which was why she often preferred to stay out of active zones like this. So she wouldn't be used in just that way, some human bulldozer meant to smash apart anybody who even has a chance of being infected on the feild.

Sighing, she kept an even pace towards the stadium, a little fun thing to blend with normal people every now and again. But, according to the yells she was hearing, it seemed there'd been a commotion going on at the safe area. Sprinting the remaining distance, she got over to the area in time to see crowds of people in disrest and the armed guards barking at one another to find someone. She knew enough of the language around here to understand it when it was spoken and to sense the tone of absolute anger in their voices.

Huh, so what cat decided to run out of the bag?

Curious, Amelia walked in and headed towards the bulk of the commotion, an area over by one of the side walls where officials were attempting to push back the crowds while searching for the escaper. She didn't have to get close to see the broken window and the trail of other guards outside the wall looking around for any traces. Hm, interesting. Why would someone actually want to break out of the safe-zone?

Tapping a passing guard on the shoulder, she asked, "Excuse me, what happened here?" It took a minute after he spoke and left in a hurry for her mind to register what'd been said, not being as fluent as she'd like in foreign languages. They'd found a man stripped of his armor and clothing inside of one of the bathroom stalls and the person who'd done it had apparently planned to escape, and had done just that. Interesting.

Walking back out of the area, after explaining in a broken sentences that she was cleared to be out of the zones, Amelia kept her eyes open for anything out of place. Well then, maybe today wasn't going to be slow.

 

[MESMAR_RISING]

“Who… Who’s there?! Come out!”

A confused expression made its way to Anthony’s face as he heard a voice call out in his general direction. The voice sounded almost uneasy, why would someone from the military seem that nervous about calling out to a civilian? His thoughts began to slow down, blending together as if slurring his speech from hunger as his hands shook uncontrollably. Suddenly, his mind came to a conclusion. “They think I’m an infected!” Breathing heavily now, the janitor could feel a familiar heat within him and his stomach lurched just before growling loudly.

What the hell was he supposed to do? He’d spent this long undiscovered, pretending to be someone he wasn’t to avoid a situation just like this. What would happen now? Once again he ran his right hand through his hair, as if doing so would somehow help the situation. He took a moment and imagined pulling a situation out of his hair, cursing himself for not being clever. He could run, just stand up and run away from the soldier. Why not? He was pretty fast; he’d been running this long, what made this situation any different? “No,” he thought doing away with such foolish thoughts; the image of him falling amidst a hail of gunfire was more than enough to dissuade him of such stupidity.

Now hyperventilating, Anthony realistically knew that he’d never get far if he ran, he was too hungry. Weakly the young man looked around, how long had it been since he ate? Moving his tongue along his teeth, he loosened a piece of bacon that had been stuck since his breakfast and sighed heavily.

“Well, Bryan,” he paused pushing himself onto his feet and stopping in a crouched position, “…Damn it.” He didn’t even bother finishing his sentence as he stood up and instead of being greeted by a group of soldiers at gunpoint he found himself staring at a cab driver of Asian descent staring at him uneasily. Raising his hands above his head out of habit, Anthony stood his ground, the fear obvious in his stare.

 

[Ulti]

As Raven placed another mark on Faze's scoreboard, she finally heard the sound she has waited about five minutes for. The sound that would break the story wide open! Or at least the barriers wide open. Act 1, Scene 2: Enter the Distraction. A young lady had engaged the troopers and held their attention for quite some time. So much for all that money going into their funding. But that story would have to wait another day. Or at least be a brief article at the back of the newspaper.

It was still tricky to slip by a bunch of guys armed to the teeth and have no fears of being pinned for police brutality. Desperate times call for desperate and violent measures, apparently. But it seemed these men were a bit skittish today. Who could blame them? A new threat to mankind and all. Raven would be scared too if she knew what that was. She slipped by the blockade with her faithful hound at her heels. She immediately retreated behind a building to catch her breath. When he took a quick peek out of her hiding spot, the guards had turned their attention back onto their duty.

"Well, that was easier than I thought. These Russians really have shitty guard dogs. I suppose they did not expect anything trying to get OUT. I'll have to report them for their incompetence though."

Eager to get started, Raven strolled down the streets of the ruined city sector. Obviously, it was quite, save for the car alarms and crackling of fire. Funny, Raven thought it would be like one of those zombie video games. Parasitic creatures rampaging over the rubble, moaning and groaning like no one's business. But upon inspection, she found nothing of the sort. Not even figures lurking in the shadows. Disappointed but not defeated, Raven continued her stroll through the silent scene with her camera at the ready to be the first to capture this story on film.

 

[frisson]

Yeah... sorry .

 

[Ulti]

This should have lived longer.