ICC- Kilrick Salvage Chapter 3- Manhattan Story

Discussion in 'Roleplaying Board' started by welsh, Feb 5, 2005.

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  1. SuAside

    SuAside Testament to the ghoul lifespan
    Admin

    May 27, 2004
    Logan ran & ran. His primary exit wasn't far now, but he could hear more doors crashing under the violence thrown at them. The hunterkillers were not far behind.

    As he finally reached the window he was planning to use as his primary means of escape, his passage was barred by Curly. Or at least, what used to be Curly. Half his synthetic face & hair was gone, now revealing his mechanical nature for all to see.

    Not yet recovered from the shock of meeting one of his hunters, Logan jumped towards the nearest door. Flashes, pain, bloodstains on the wall, Logan was hit, but still running.

    The door lead to a staircase. Logan ignored the stairs going down, going back into the basement would make that same basement his tomb. Swiftly he ran up.

    Alone with pain as his compagnion, he reached the roof. Without hesitating he kept on running.

    Seeing the abyss getting closer & closer, Logan sped up, disregarding the pain & the blood running down his left leg.

    To Logan it seemed like he hung in the air forever, in the uncertainty whether he would reach the hole in the wall on the opposite side. The painful landing eventually made clear he had made it. Pain was good, it lets you know you are still alive.

    As bullets started impacting all around and dust was starting to cloud his vision, he reached into his backpack, dropped a small bundle on the ground & he continued his flight.

    Seconds later, as Logan had expected, he felt the impact of heavy bodies on concrete. Reaching into his pocket he pressed the small remote, the small bundle instantly exploded. The building shook & started collapsing.

    Without looking back, Logan disappeared in an alley. Upon inspection, his wounded leg seemed in relatively good shape, a simple fleshwound. He made a tourniquet & used a stim. After that, he started sneaking through the dark ruins of the city, knowing full well the hunterkillers would soon dig their way out of the rubble.
     
  2. welsh

    welsh Junkmaster

    Apr 5, 2003
    Roark kept glancing from side to side, impatient and nervous.

    I had been thinking about Wolf. Something was very wrong. Something psychological perhaps. Whatever it was it was in his mind. And as long as it remained, he wasn't reliable.

    I had given a look to Jake, but he had merely shrugged. Whatever it was he wasn't used to. I could tell from the way Deeds was reacting that he wouldn't waste time putting his plasma rifle to Wolf if there were doubts.

    Roark stopped short, looked at someone then up.

    "What is it."

    "Seventh Avenue Stompers." Said Roark. I wasn't familiar with the name. "They had been fighting it out with the West Side Seventy fivers. But the battle wasn't decisive."

    "So?"

    "Stompers are watching us. Might want to do a pick. But I'm catching wind of something else. Maybe a rumble. Maybe they figure we're another gang, especially with all the heat we bring."

    "Don't they know you?" I asked thinking Jorus had a reputation.

    "Yeah, they do. But Jorus hires out and allies whenever it pleases him. They might think I'm with the SeventyFivers." Said Roark.

    "What can we do?"

    "Can't go underground. Maggots below us. Best to clear out."

    But people in the market were watching us warily and I wondered how quickly they might pick our corpses for resale>

    ____________

    Furtheraway, the mind that once had been Eric's woke up. His eyes flickered and took a moment to focus. But even then he knew that there was something else, something with him, inside of him.

    He looked down and saw the mass of black wires and pipes lathered with an oily, jelly like insulator that connected his head to the machine.

    He screamed and screamed.

    Miles away, Wolf heard that scream within his own head.
     
  3. Albatross

    Albatross Still Mildly Glowing

    250
    May 20, 2004
    OCC: Sorry for not posting sooner but I kind of needed a break from everything after last semester.

    IC:

    I was quiet… I really didn’t know what else to be. A sharpened splinter of metal-like defeat and sorrow had penetrated my psyche. I wasn’t the on who had taken the lives of the Atheans, but in a way, I was the perpetrator of their attack. I was the one who had brought Kilrick and his comrades to Fanum. That made me responsible for the deaths that ensued didn’t it?

    If I was responsible, Armitage certainly didn’t seem to feel that I was. From what Kilrick had briefly told me, Armitage seem to place no blame in my direction. But then again…. She was depeneding upon me to find a way to stop what was happening with Xerxes. What was happening to Xerxes….. What was happening to Xerxes? All that the Athean counsel had been able to find was that Xerxes’ redundant protocols had been rewritten while his main frame had been left unscathed resaulting in a complete shut down of his response system. It was an outside source of interference or at least it seemed like it was.

    I walked with Kilrick and told him a little of what Armitage had spoken to me. I was asking for his help in as a discrete a way as possible. I hoped that he would understand and offer his support.

    As we continued to walk something caught my eye, a single word left intact on an old prewar rescue mission, “Salvation.”
     
  4. welsh

    welsh Junkmaster

    Apr 5, 2003
    Kilrick-

    Terra seemed downcast, as if she was carrying a heavy burden. I didn't know the connection she had with the cy-borg Atheans, but she was taking the damage done to them personally. Perhaps she felt guilty for it but that act had saved Wolf. I owed her.

    But Xerxes? I didn't understand it. Could this have something to do with Logan? The three androids that had been tracking him?

    "Terra. I am sorry for your loss. But what you are telling me isn't exactly clear." I said. "What is it that you have been asked to do? What do you want us to do?"
     
  5. Karkow

    Karkow Still Mildly Glowing

    234
    Feb 6, 2004
    Eric was alive and Wolf knew it.

    He knew it but didn’t know how. He didn’t know how he could see his face in his head, hear his screams and feel his pain. He couldn’t explain why! How was it possible that he could even imagine that the man cut in half by bullets could be screaming right now! He had no explanation, only paranoia, but what he did know was that Eric was, indeed, alive.

    But what would Wolf do about it? He had to tell the others, Kilrick… he just had to tell them that their former partner was still alive somewhere, but to what would that arise? If he told someone, he had to tell how he knew, he had to tell «Eric’s alive ‘cause I can hear him screaming in my bloody head!». If they didn’t think of him as crazy yet, they would surely think it now!
    But other then that, with all the looks he received, with all the suspicion, wouldn’t be possible to think of Wolf as a risk?

    “Bugger”, He whispered, feeling a little dizzy now that he emptied all the flasks of booze he had with him.

    He looked at Kilrick talking to the young new girl, Terra. She as a mysterious one, she was, and Wolf though of the possibility she knew more then she told him about what was happening to him after he got that metallic construct replacing his lost left arm.


    He had to talk, just had to. He would wait for a more propitious time and he would talk to Kilrick about what he had been feeling, hearing and seeing.
     
  6. Carib FMJ

    Carib FMJ Nuka-Cola Chaser

    Nov 8, 2003
    Rama had been given his due for bringing the comminque from Cardias' son, a son who long thought his father was lost but hd found out that the wily Desert Cat was still alive - and kicking.

    Stryfe had been given a Multi-Frequency Throat Miki-With Microbuster Scrambler so the tin folk wouldn't be able to eve's drop on him.

    In a map placed within the PIPBoy 2000 around Rama's wrist was cache map of weapons, ammunition and other goodies. Yes plenty of anti-mechination weaponry. The network was blind on this side of the city and Rama would like it to remain that way.

    The shutter was keppad activated and after punching the correct sequence of numbers the shutter open and Carib entered a eight by six room filled with ammo crates and weapons. A packed up Pancor Jackhammer with extra cylinders of ammo; EMP grenades, plasma grenades, a combat knife, Ghost Keycard

    The Ghost Keycard could chew through electronic security access panels like sulphoric acid on human flesh. Microscopic nanites were able to configure to any code with in a nano second; even quadrouple dycryption was a synch.

    Slinging the Pancor across his back, Rama loaded on grenades and some cordite. Yes, he will give the gangers and machines hell. For the Rangers, and yes, he was the last. Charlyn was dead and nothing could change that, but he would finish this or die trying. The Pancor was light in his hand, but strong. Yes, this was a weapon.

    The Desert Eagles were still holstered at his hip and under arm. All full loaded with depleted uranium rounds. The .12ga bandoliers zigged zagged across his chest and the special anti-ballistic and anti-energy weapon armor was sheathed beneath the combat armor. THin sheats with extreme strength.

    Now it was time to make contact. Pressing the micro-phones at the base of his throat, his leathery voice came through: "Kilrick, calling Kilrick. Rama Stryfe. Where are you presently so I can regroup. I repeat, this is Rama Stryfe. Do you read me over."
     
  7. welsh

    welsh Junkmaster

    Apr 5, 2003
    THe message came in as static but it broke into my conversation with Terra.

    I held up a hand to Roark, telling him to slow down. He was nervously watching the buildings that overlooked the market. We were also aware that the merchants had gotten nervous and were bringing in their wears. As if a storm was about to come down the street.

    "Jake, look at this." I said.

    Jake looked over the radio unit, opened up a rear panel.

    "Message is coming in from a distance and probably underground... lots of interference.... wait a moment.... ok."

    The voice was familiar. "....Rama Strife.... Calling for Kilrick. Give me your location."

    Was it a trap? The machines trying to trace us.
    I nodded to Jake and he checked the scrambler/decoder. Then I responded.

    "Kilrick here." I said. "We're uptown around 88th street, West of the Park, moving uptown. Columbia University Hospital Research and Analysis Complex."

    Silence. Then "Got it. Will proceed to you."

    Then an explosion roared down the street as the face of a building erupted and then slid down into the street. Car bomb. Moments later gunshots from down the street. Gunmen moving along rooftops. Two gangs going to war and we were in the middle of it.

    "Find cover!" I said.

    The others scrambled for what cover they could find. I felt something hard hit my armor, pushing me to the left then the right. Small arms fire.

    Neither side knew who we were so they could only assume the worst and that we were on the other side.

    "Roark, we can't stay exposed like this. "

    Down the street an armored car crawled around a corner, it's autocannon turning towards us.

    Roark saw it to and pointed to a stairwell. "We need to go under and take our chances with the Maggots."
     
  8. SuAside

    SuAside Testament to the ghoul lifespan
    Admin

    May 27, 2004
    Logan slowly made his way through the city, hardly ever leaving the shadow infested ruins as he progressed through the wasteland that once was one of the biggest cities in this part of the world. He was constantly accompanied by the distant sounds of small arms fire. It didn't bother him, he even welcomed it, for it hid any sounds he might make.

    However, the gunfire of a high calibre autocannon stopped him in his tracks. Small arms was to be expected, explosions as well. The gangs were notorious for the neverending strife between them. They were well equiped, but autocannons was hardly what Logan would have expected. It was unlikely that they would be able to procure autocannons on their own, which would mean they had received outside aid. The Greys? Unlikely. The Greens? Even more unlikely. The Authority? Perhaps. Logan's personal archnemesis? Probably. Luckily, the sound came from several blocks away & it didn't concern Logan, at least, not yet...

    He wondered if his temporary allies had been involved. He thought that he didn't quite care either way, but somewhere in a dark & forgotten corner his heart he hoped they were alright.

    Quickly, Logan resumed his hike through the shadowy ruins of the city. His mind had already thought up the next step that needed to be taken. For that, he would need more than just his own makeshift computer & backbone network access. Neural interface, supercomputer and autonomous powersupply were just a few things he would need. Luckily, he knew just where to get those. But, of course, they would not be so easily procured.
     
  9. Carib FMJ

    Carib FMJ Nuka-Cola Chaser

    Nov 8, 2003
    Rama's new armor was lighter and far more effective then his tried and ture combat armor which was more remnants then full armor. Being a former military technician had its advanatges, also he was trained to survive in any enviroment, and Stryfe had learn his lessons and earned his scars.

    There was something to do first, he needed to make contact with an old couple, and hope they were still in their line of work. He picked up the Radio and punched in the coded frequency. For his sake he hoped they hadn't been sliced during his five years adscene. Reno and Dawn. The Mad Mic and the Dead Eye.

    The cache was located down an old depot, a Nuka-Cola depot to be exact. Who could miss the old red and white. Looking at the sign made Rama thirsty, he sure could use a warm and flat to make the day go by.

    He found the frequency from his Pip-Boy, his person depository of knowledge. He found it, Ch-65 at 500KHZ. They should still have that old CB-Radio in that apartment of theirs.

    He gave a click on his radio and called in, "Reno... Dawn... Sergeant Rama Stryfe of The Rangers, 13th Division calling in, over." His voice was the usual cold rasp. He waited over the flow of static, that endless sea of white noise. At times in his travel, that static almost drove him insane.

    There was a silence and then a dry click, the radio diode turned green, it was recieved. "Stryfe? Thought you were dead." It was a rusty female voice. Dawn Infantino AKA Dead Eye, the green blonde. "What do I owe this dubious honor? Over"

    "I need some fire power... I need some extra hands and some of that good ol' killin'." Stryfe was business like, as always and he heard Dawn chuckle.

    The next voice Rama heard was the irish twang of Reno, "Well, if it ain't my ol' boyo, Rama Stryfe.... plenty of Stryfe, eh? So you wanna blood and de'ath, aye, mate?"

    "Yes. Cash as always."
     
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