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Wolokai142

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Wolokai142 last won the day on August 25 2022

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  1. Consider the math. Let's say there's generally...20-40 members per gang, 40 on the cap so we'll say a flat 30. There are at least 10+ gangs currently in operation at least on the server. 30x10 = 300. 300 potential crims against a faction with maybe 80-100 members average. You outnumber LEOs 3-1 at a spitball mathed average. Take into account time zone and play period factors as well, and the math gets more extreme. There will be no restriction of LEO numbers as suggested in any capacity. LEOs are meant to have an advantage over the criminal underworld to a pretty hefty margin in both numbers and equipment, but are balanced by heavy IC protocols that they must follow that criminals don't have to, and by very heavily scrutinized OOC standards and quality checks of RP. Learn to take the situations you are encountering and either learn from and adapt against them, or continue to struggle by maintaining the same repeat behaviors that have landed you in LEOs spotlight in the first place.
  2. M A Y | 15th | 2023 9 Months+ Since the Palmer Taylor Attack "Vision?" "Check." "Auditory Senses?" "Check." "Physical Therapy?" "Cleared." "Reflexes?" "Concerningly high." "Blood pressure?" "Fluctuates between statuses of normality, rest, stress, and other factors." "What about her mood...how is the subject reacting?" "Before or after the implementation of MKU3?" "Both." "Graphs indicate normalcy...it is a false positive." "We cannot physically tell if the subject is angry or happy or sad...?" "Negative, subject's behavior displays the cognitive irregularities most often seen in pathological lying, but due to the specimen's 'condition' we cannot make accurate determinations..." "What does that mean doctor?" "It means that MKU3, as it did so with MKU2, has severely aggravated the subject's condition to the point of a near total breakdown of their psyche'. The walls between them have deteriorated to a point of complete near-nothingness." "You're saying that at any point we could be dealing with one...or the other? In a rapid fashion?" "NO sir, at this point if I were to make a metaphorical guess....I would say there are multiple hands on the wheel. And the subject is spiraling rapidly outside of our control." "What is your recommended course of action then?" "Euthanize." "The subject is that great of a threat to us?" "No sir, not just us. Everyone. Everything. If the subject breaches containment...and with its record this is highly likely, then there will be little we can do to stop it. The subject's very existence, the knowledge it carries, what it has done and what is going on within that self-shredding brain are nothing but evidence that could lead to our exposure. We should have never induced her!" "SUBJECT, doctor, remember your place we are on recor-" "I told you not to listen to Miles but you wouldn't listen! I TOLD you the consequences of submitting her under the reformed program. Her psyche is unstable, her CONDITION renders her uncontrollable, extremely volatile and we are risking-" "Turn off the tape, and get her out of my sight." -RECORD - [Sounds of extreme scuffling and grunting mixed with furniture toppling] "YOU NEED TO EUTHANIZE HER, YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE!!! YOU'VE AGGRAVATED THAT THING IN HER HEAD TO THE POINT OF A TOTAL PSYCHOTIC BREAK! IT IS OUT OF CON-" "GET HER OUT OF HERE AND HAVE HER SECURED IN DETAINMENT FOR DEBRIEFING!" "GET YOUR HANDS OFF M- SHE IS GOING TO REACH PSYCHOSIS, AND SHE IS GOING TO KILL, EVERYONE! SAN ANDREAS IS AT AN EXTREME RISK, WE HAVE TO STOP! WE HAVE TO-" [REDACTED - End of Log] ~~~ "R-2," The man said with a warm smile and a look of sympathetic gentleness. There were two cups of coffee resting near his clasped hands upon the metal surface of the table, light whisps of smoke still rising off of them that carried the faint scent of vanilla. To his left was an open manila folder, papers and pictures pulled and strewn out in front of her in some organized yet slightly haphazard fashion. Pictures of Los Zetas, Aztecas, Triads, Philipe Sanchez, Lewis Langley, SADOC, and Palmer Taylor...before, -and- after just to name a few. Her eyes were tired, weary, blinking and unfocused. The sedative they had her on was enough to keep her cognitive...but enough to keep her down. Her gaze meandered to the corners of the room behind him, trailing over the hulking forms of the monsters who stood there. Clad in thick, black leather and bull masks that were faded, torn, patched and scarred. Legionäres...the top Enforcer's of The Blessings. They were the personal bodyguards of their highest caste, and dispatched to destroy their most ruthless and heinous of enemies, something not even normal Enforcer's could hope to do... ...enemies like her. But they had not killed her, however. Instead, they had cared for her...treated her...nursed her back to health. They were saving her from the destruction she wrought against San Andreas and the Hive below, and now found herself here. Several months of physical therapy, tests, questions, all in a repeat cycle. 'What is your favorite color? Who were your parents? What is the color of the sky? Do you remember Missouri? Do you enjoy hurting other people? Who is Lewis Langley? Who is Leah Lennox? Who is Lex Roth? Who is Lola Devalera? Who is Solomon Cobb? Where is-' On and on, the questions didn't stop. It didn't help that she was starting to see shit now too. Whatever it was that they had done to her...whatever they put in her system...it was making her see something. Something dark...something dangerous. Something- "Your health screens are looking rather good, all things considered," The man said, nudging a cup of coffee in her direction, around a polaroid that depicted a rather large amount of bodies clad in green and tactically blue-clothed individuals standing around it, AK's in hand and staring at the camera. "Though of course this isn't your first time being shot at or shot directly. The LSPD has left quite a considerable amount of bullets in you, Mister Sanchez most notably. Bad luck maybe or...good luck considering that you still seem to be walking amongst the living." He was an aged gentleman, she could tell. His hands were calloused and thick, as if he could crush concrete and rebar in his bare hands. His posture was one of practiced authority, his tone old like the feeling of walking through a 1970's downtown library where one would find the smell of old pages and the fragile crinkling of the brownish, stained pages within the books there. The only thing misplaced about him was the lion mask he wore on his head, it took of an old, faded look. She couldn't see his eyes behind the glassy irises...but she knew that he could see her very clearly. See right through her even. His was an aura of death and danger...a feeling of unease and nervousness running through her blood despite the sedative pumping the brakes in her head. She knew who she was...but wanted to hear it anyway. Hear him confirm the status of his legend, the one responsible for everything that had happened in her life from childhood to now. She wanted to hear him say it, say he was the one that lead her and her family to its demise, that put their mother in her grave and their father amongst them in their ranks, soulless and entombed within a mask like theirs. "Who are you...?" she asked, tired, oblivious to the coffee or just not even caring. "A 95% prison break record as well...not that its surprising. SADOC isn't equipped to hold you like we are, regardless of their ever growing security measures. Combine this with your concerningly long combat record within the criminal underworld of Los Santos...it is quite the concern that you are exceedingly hard to kill." He looked up from the files, peering straight at her "That makes you an unsolvable problem. And we do not have those." "Who are you...!" She asked again, tired, the sounds of light heeled steps shuffling behind her a moment. "Can you see her?" He asked, tilting his head slightly, peering around her as if searching for something though besides the other two Legionäres that stood behind her, nothing appeared amiss. "I've been told you've been subconsciously reacting to something, noted stimuli as if there is someone in your containment chamber though we repeatedly see nothing...and I must wonder if the good doctor was accurate...that your condition 'is' growing aggravated. I'm rather curious to see i-" She yanked her hands up though they didn't get far, the handcuffs and the chains that secured her to the table clanging tight and taught as she roared "WHO ARE YOU!?" Nobody moved, nobody spoke. The lion-masked man stared at her for a long moment, quiet and stoic. It was a long moment before she could hear the heeled steps behind her, a soft mumbling...a shuddering breath...a giggle? "You know who I am...Miss Moraine," The man said, re-clasping his hands and leaning back slightly "I am Your Benefactor. I am CEO, Lead Administrator, General, and Lead Scientist of The Blessings Initiative of America." He held a hand out towards her, palm up as if motioning to her as a display "And you...are Agent R-2. My greatest creation since R-0." He looked down back to her file, flipping it back to near one of the beginning pages and reading it off as she stared at him, her thoughts nothing but soggy cereal floating around in her head. "100% Combat Effectiveness and Lethality...extensive knowledge of explosives, infiltration expert, population destabilizer, assassination prowess...goes on and on." He shrugged slightly, leaning forward over the table as he spoke "This file contains everything there is to know about you...everything you've done, everything you've been. Birth certificates, high school diploma, every process, every test, every deployment. Everything we've done to you, for you, and everything you've done against us, and the entities of Vice City and San Andreas." He tapped a picture of her mugshot below with a finger "I release this to Lewis Langley...and the GOV will have the first documented case of the death penalty on its hands. You -will- be put to death for what you've done should this ever get out...and that would be the 'least' of our problems." She watched him gather up the file, the pictures, the graphs, her face, scooping them up and placing them in the folder to be closed. He took the small cord dangling off of it, wrapping it around the button to keep it closed and non-chalantly tossing it into a trash can to his left upon the floor. "Ironic...I suppose," he said, reaching into his dark suit jacket and pulling a small box of matches from within, plucking and striking one that hissed with its small light, illuminating the various scars on his fingers "You are the single greatest threat to us, to our organization and everything we stand for..." he placed the wooden end of the match into the opening of the box, tossing the entirety of the package into the trash can with the folder...and watched as it grew alight with spreading orange and red "And yet...to try to kill you, or stop you...has been nothing but an impossible endeavor. One that's costed me time, resources, and too many lives." He scoffed a small laugh, shaking his masked head before turning it up to her to address her directly "Even now...I could put two in your face right now, have the entirety of your body harvested, organs spread out to every country in this world, burned, melted, and flittered away into the wind into nothingness....and yet, you would still find ways to haunt us, to destroy us." She watched the trash can light up from within, watching as the written history of her life burned away. He went on, his voice drawing her gaze back to him with a flick of deadened eyes "Likewise are your endeavors against us pointless. Vice City, Palmer Taylor...Rhea while I commend the immensely heinous and creative effort, did you really think that Langley, or anyone was going to budge? Fear of the unknown, and the inability of the human mind to accept conditions other than the delusions of safety in which they must live to retain their sanity and stability is one of which our species will never endeavor to move away from. You told Mister Langley that a Nationalist-Terrorist organization was coming to invade his state. You blew up a power station and launched an assault against said state in an effort to persuade him into action against us. And yet...here we are." He held his hands out to the room, shaking his head "Rhea, your fight was a good one...a commendable one. But on the night of August 30th, 2021...I sent the Colonel after you to deliver you a message, to open your eyes to a lesson you needed to learn. You chose to ignore it, and escalate it far past the point of necessity." He sighed then, looking down for a moment as the trash can continued to burn from within. "The point is, Rhea..." he said, looking back up to her "It was never about a 'coming' invasion. We were already there. We were there before 'you' even got there. We've been in San Andreas for longer than you know, and what was 'supposed' to happen did eventually happen but...after a very aggravating fashion." He stood up then, clasping his hands behind his back and taking a slow meander around the room, his gaze and focus never leaving her "You needed to realize and understand...that this crusade you've been on, this mission for revenge? It leads nowhere Rhea. Palmer Taylor did nothing, except hurt people. Langley has forgotten it, everyone has forgotten it. Exactly what the Colonel said was going to happen, happened. We are always going to be here, everywhere. Our existence is incomprehensible to human kind. Even if you were to shine a light on us, they couldn't understand what it is they were looking at...and that would fill them with fear, and the alternative of simply feigning ignorance and turning away from it would present itself and be taken." He leaned over slightly, standing to her right as his voice dropped lower "No one -wants- us to be real Rhea. They don't want The Blessings to exist. We represent a very real danger to everyone's 9-5, white picket American dream...even if we are the ones supplying that to them." "Liar..." a voice suddenly said behind her, the back of her head starting to hurt, a coming headache pulsing through her brain as the voice repeated in a more sing-song fashion "Llliiiiiiaaaaarrrr.....!" Her Benefactor continued his pace behind her...oblivious to the voice. Couldn't he hear it? "The point of these past few years Rhea is that this vendetta you have against us...it needs to end. I could've had you erased immediately after Vice City, and against the screaming panic of my advisors I let you live because quite frankly...I'm a connoisseur of art, and I hate to see good art burn." He stood behind his chair, leaning his hands down across the surface and towering over the surface as the light from the trash can started to fade. "I can't kill you Rhea...for a myriad of reasons. Nor can I let you continue to try and stall our efforts." He pressed an index finger against the table, poking it in time with words of emphasis, almost pleading in tone "I need, you, to under-stand. Your war against us is over. Your efforts are misplaced, and this continuing cycle of violence needs to stop." He finally sat back down, shaking his head with a weary sigh through his masked lips "But my efforts are wasted in trying to convince you to stop...I'd have a better chance of trying to stand upon the railroad tracks and ask a runaway train to slow down. We're too far down this rabbit hole now...too far gone. Again, against the words and advise of my advisors, I submitted you into the MKU3 program...not to try and reign you in as an Agent back into our fold...but at another opportunity at a lesson. Maybe one you can teach yourself." He looked up, staring at her as the sounds of shuffling and heels were still heard behind her head. Why couldn't he hear it? "Instead of trying to stop the train...I'm going to try and 'redirect' it down another track, a longer one...and give you enough time maybe to find it within yourself to slow or stop the train yourself. Because dear...the way we're going? I've seen the ending to this movie already...and I don't think you're going to like what happens at the end of the line." "What do you want...?" Rhea asked, the giggling turning into cheerful whistling somewhere in her ears. Her Benefactor was quiet, staring towards her from behind the visage of his rageful mask, the contorted, soundless roar of it echoing painfully in her ears "It's simple, Miss Moraine..." "...I want to make you an offer." ~~~ The wheelchair squeaked loudly as she was pushed down the hallway, her head bouncing about as she was hunched over, glassy eyes staring at the floor. She was flanked by two armed guards, and a few people in white lab coats, the lights above silver and fluorescent in nature making her feel cold and empty inside. The odd thing she noticed though straight away...is that there were no Enforcers with her detail...something she found odder than the voice that followed behind her over the sound of clacking heels. "What a load of bullshit," the voice said, the others around her not seeming to react in any sort of way as they made their way down the hall "What kind of offer is that? You call that a way out? Unreal dude..." "Can you please stop...?" she huffed in response, the person pushing her wheelchair stopping suddenly. "...what the-? Her sedative is wear- why is it wearing off we gave her a heightened dosage." "It's fine..." one of the guards said with a sigh, turning to face the detail "Containment is just another hundred meters up, doesn't matter." "It does fucking matter you moron!" The man said in response "Call containment detail, there's protocol!" "You know what I think...." The voice said, her tone light and daydreamy. Rhea could hear the heels clacking on the floor next to her as the detail argued amongst themselves "I think I got a better idea..." "Bro, would you chill?" The guard said, his voice growing aggravated as the man looked at him almost pleadingly "She's fine, she's in coo coo land, let's just go, dump her off, and then we can all get back to doing the usual yeah?" "The reason we need to sedate her is because she is IN coo coo land dipshit!" He cried out, turning to one of the other lab-coated persons and pointing a finger down the hall "Get to an intercom box and call it in, R-2's sedation is ineffective. Deploy the Enforcers, now!" "Are you deadass?!" The guard shouted back "We coulda fucking been there by now, and been done with this already! What's the fucking prob-" "DO YOU KNOW WHO THIS IS?!" the man shouted back, pointing down at her. "And what idea...is that...?" Rhea groaned softly. She felt a sudden grip of her chin, her head getting yanked up suddenly. Her eyes widened considerably, staring into the visage of a pristine looking fox mask. Seers of red color enflamed her vision as a voice purred behind that smiling vulpine face as she simply whispered to her "It's such a lovely day outside...don't you think we oughta go enjoy it?" The last thing the guard in front of her saw was Rhea's mouth partially falling open, and her eyes dilating rapidly. ~~~ "...Damage report?" "All KIA. Two guards and three lab technician personnel in the containment hall, five more dead in central processing, and a large number of injured within the garage areas. The reports are still coming in." "And the subject?" "Gone. We have done a search of all CCTV and are still going through the general recovery protocols, but it is safe to say that the subject is no longer within the facility." "Do we know where the subjects is heading?" "There is a 93% chance of probability that the subject is returning to San Andreas. Should we notify the local police and Government agencies?" "No, at the request of Our Benefactor the subject is to be unhindered." "....Sir?" "The order has not been misdelivered. Agent R-2 is to be left alone. No attempts at returning the lost asset to containment will be authorized, nor any of the Enforcement to be dispatched after her. All other San Andreas operations are to continue regardless of R-2's interferences, or lack thereof." "...Forgive me if I speak out of place sir...but did he say why? R-2 presents a significant danger to our protocols, efforts, and the civilian population itself...what are-" "The order has not been misdelivered....we will maintain. Our Benefactor has stated it simply enough: 'The train has left the station'."
  3. S E P T E M B E R | 30th | 2022 1 Month+ Since the Palmer Taylor Attack The air was clean. All was well. The bass thwubbed in time, low but still loud enough to be felt in the upholstery of the seating. There was nothing really going on, nothing today at least. Any bullets needing spending were spent already. All chases concluded, all cops killed, all affairs settled. Best way to end a Thursday. She had her head tilted back, her eyes closed gently and a quiet, rhythmic wheeze rising and falling through her chest and out of her nose, her lips very partially open as she snoozed away, unaware. A rarer thing than unicorns, a peacefully sleeping warrior such as this. What cause had she to close her mind to the dangers of the world around them? Surely at any moment there would come the adversary from around the next corner, looking to pave a new foundation of bone donated from their own corpses upon the dying vestiges of the ones who made the same attempt before them. More souls to be forgotten amongst the dead, while they would live on out of spite, out of pride, out of principle. A people of fury...of legend...who would never fade away. But no such danger lurked this way...no such dangers had for a long time. Like something out of a story book...the great evil was defeated, the knights reigned triumphant over the monsters who had put their fortress to siege. No more was there a council, no more wars, no more raids from the Loyalists. They, had won. But like all good things in this world, "Eyo you said you wanted pickles right?" Flint said as he unceremoniously got back into the driver's seat, shuffling a few bags around and dropping a brown paper bag on his passenger's lap. He started to unwrap his own heart attack supreme as her eyes opened slowly, a very gentle sigh rising from her throat. "I said, no...pickles," she whispered, her left hand reaching up to rub her eyes groggily, her fingers pressing into her eyelids and down into the corners. "Well you got pickles," He said back, quirking his eyebrows up once quickly with a smile "Your favorite. Bone-appa-something bitch, eat up." She raised an eyebrow slightly, letting out a yawn shortly after and stretching as best as she could in her condition within the seat, looking down at the paper bag. "You know..." she grumbled playfully "I don't think this is exactly the -wisest- thing for me to eat right now? Aren't you supposed to be, like...feeding me vitamins and greens? Foot massages and all that internet search shit?" "What more you want?!" Flint retorted, robbed again of his first bite as he turned slightly to look at her "I already been doing the whole damn Martha Stuart routine for you for months now. That's not enough?" She shook her head, tilting it as she felt a smile growing on her lips "Trying to feed me a diet of milk and fast food, is not exactly what I'd call 'Home-Garden Network' material Flint." "I think that thing's soakin' up your brain power. You can't tell me that calcium for strong bones and red meat don't help in the growth process." She opened her mouth to comment that the simplicity of his logic (while adorable to her) wasn't really going to help with a complex situation such as this, when she heard a voice from behind her at the window. "How's my niece?" the voice asked, his body partially blocking the sun that was shining in towards her. She turned her head to address him, smirking. She couldn't really quite see who it was because of the light, but she could tell just by his voice and how he carried himself who was there. "Would be better," she started, jerking a thumb back towards Flint "If discount Martha Stewart over here would stop getting his ideas on how to take care of me from Web-MD" "Bitch?" Flint said through stuffed cheeks, taking a minute to swallow before pointing his free hand at her "You hear this shit? Out here trying to treat my girl like a Queen, then she get heated when you don't cut her lettuce the right way or bring her her 'favorite' heated blanket. That's crazy." She shook her head, giggling before finally bowing her head to look down at her swollen belly. She laid her hands upon her stretched out shirt, humming very softly in the back of her throat. 'Rowena', maybe...for her mother. Or 'Regina'. 'Rebecca'? Maybe something mysterious, or edgy, like 'Raven'. "Red." She looked up slightly, looking towards Flint. He wasn't looking at her, carrying his conversation onwards with the man outside of their window. Neither of them seemed to have been talking to her. "Red." She looked around in concern, peering behind her in the seat and then looking towards the rearview mirrors. "You lose something...?" Flint asked, suddenly noticing her behavior as her breath became a little heavier through her nose. "I just...I thought I heard-" "Red." She pulled the sun visor down, checking the mirror inside and seeing only her tired eyes looking back at her. She felt a dangerous tug in the back of her heart, a sinking feeling that she had sworn she had felt once before...a feeling almost alien to her now. She was about ready to turn back towards Flint, a request to take her home bubbling its way up her throat before a voice called out, running footsteps approaching them. "Eyo hold up!" A blue bandana clad man with sandy blonde hair panted heavily through the cloth, leaning over and outside the driver's side window as she breathed "Damn girl, can you wait up...?" She looked towards him, a look of concern in her eyes as she asked "What are you...?" "I just saw you walk out of the store, how the hell did you get over here so fast...?" She shook her head, blinking as she felt her heart starting to thud rapidly. "I didn't...I was here the whole ti-" "Also, when did you start wearing the mask again?" Her eyes widened as fast as the light behind the man became blindingly bright. She didn't even realize they were in the air until she felt the burger from the bag in her lap hit her square in the face, ketchup and pickle pelting her eyes and cheeks. The car rolled across the street, the shrill crashing of glass and the subsequent explosion that followed with it deafening her in a second. Fire roared across the metal of the bonnet as they impacted the ground with a crunching crash, falling upright. She felt her chest rising and falling heavily, hyperventilating as she whipped her arm out to the left, grasping desperately at air. "F-Flint...!?" she cried, looking over and feeling a crushing pressure in her ribs. Flint was gone. The seat lay empty, blood soaking and caking the entire expanse of where he had been once before, but no other trace of him there now. She let out a choking sob, tears dripping down her face in the same cadence as the blood that was seeping from somewhere in her hair, matting the silver with crimson highlights. She looked past the empty seat, watching as the store let off a second explosion from within, the crackling flames roiling up from the interior as smoke towered high up into the sky. Bodies were flung about, this way and that, people she had known, people she had loved...strewn about like discarded dolls in a shaken up doll house, left un-picked up by their owner. A gasp tore out of her as she felt a squeezing pressure around her neck, her seat belt being ripped from its holding as she was dragged up and out through the window, thrown onto the ground. She let out a pained cry as she shut her eyes tight from the impact, pain rushing up her side. She threw up a hand and yelled "W-wait! Please!! My baby!!!", putting a hand down to her belly as if to shield it from harm. When her hands passed through empty air, however...her blood ran icy. She looked down in horror, her plump belly gone, her form clad only in a familiar red jacket and tight, black leggings. When she looked up, a figure stood above her, clad in an identical outfit. She beheld her smiling gaze, her piercing, dilated eyes, and her long, flowing silver hair with a look of absolute terror. It was herself. Like looking into a mirror that could see into the past, or perhaps the future, or the present...perhaps all three. Perhaps, none at all. She watched as the shadow raised its right hand, a pistol clutched in its hand. It pressed the barrel against her forehead, the hammer clicking as it was pulled backwards. "You always read the last chapter of a book first, remember?" A grin stretched far across her face as her finger slowly squeezed in on the trigger, her giggle an echo that shredded the flesh within her heart. "So, remember when I said that we-" The muzzle flash was brighter than she'd imagined it would be. She woke up with a heaving start, her chest rising and falling rapidly, beeping on both sides of her rapid and loud with alarm whistles. She looked this way and that, trying to move her body but to no avail. Her limbs refused to move, as did her head. All she could see was blinding lights piercing her vision. "HELP!" She screamed, shaking violently in place. "HELP, PLEASE!" That's when she heard it. The laugh. -Her- laugh. Her eyes flicked forward, staring straight up from her position. It took several moments before she could finally see past the lights overhead, when she felt her eyes widen rapidly and a gasp tremble through her lungs. She stared up at a mirrored ceiling, and what she saw could only be described as haunting. She was strapped down to a long table, tubes and IV's hooked into her at several points in her body. Her torso was wrapped heavily in bandages, her arms as well and one of her legs. The leather that belted her in place was tight, unyielding. But that's not what caused her the greatest distress. It was the fact that her reflection was 'SMILING' at her. It leered at her, eyes wide and smile stretched near ear-to-ear. It raised an arm, the leather straps falling from her bandaged form as if they were nothing, and it started to get up. "FUCK! HELP!!!" She screamed, the monster in the mirrored ceiling gently slinking off of its table and landing in a crouched pose far above her, quickly crawling onto its hands and knees and pushing its forehead down to press against the mirrored surface. It raised a hand, curling it into a mighty fist before bringing it down onto the glass, a solid crack forming within the pane as the woman on the table could do nothing but shrilly scream in panic. A punch. A crack. A punch. A crack. Eventually a shard of glass fell free from the ceiling, falling dangerously close to the right side of her immobile head and shattering on the ground beneath her. She could do nothing but simply stare, her eyes transfixed in pure, undiluted fear as the monster above reached its hand through, her lips parting and showing off jagged rows of teeth, her eyes opening to the point where they could've fallen from their sockets as an expression of utter delight was contorted into her skin. "Sedative, please." A voice crackled through the intercom. A sudden 'Pop-hissssss...' echoing loudly in her right ear, and her body suddenly feeling like it was oozing slowly into a warm water bed. Her eyes drooped, blinking slowly as slowly she lead her vision back to the mirrored ceiling. She looked upon herself up there, strapped down and alone in the illuminated room, the straps binding her tight to the surface of the hospital bed she found herself to be in. There was a long, eerie silence before the intercom crackled back to life, and the sound of slow, paced clapping echoed through, the words she had always dreaded hearing coming through just behind it: "Welcome back, R-2."
  4. "Submit. Or, Resist." Previously... : https://forum.eclipse-rp.net/topic/91247-the-war-of-the-blessings/ ~~~ Interval 1: September 30th, 2022 - "Disassociation. Mimic. Mimic." Interval 2: "Prodrome Phase. Anchor. Anchor." Interval 3: Coming Soon
  5. She took a long drag from her cigarette. Held it, calmly, let the smoke burn her throat for a good moment before she exhaled gently between her lips. The smoke trailed up through the air, her eyes following it before it faded away. It was the last drag she'd take. She flicked the cigarette away, checking the time on her phone before switching it off, popping the battery and SIM card out from the back, and dropping it in a little plastic baggy. She gave a tiny flick of her wrist, tossing it into the small hole she dug on top of one of San Andreas's most eastern hills. In the event she'd ever need it again, she memorized the amount of steps she'd need to take from the lilac bush and up from the apple tree to dig it back up. Once she was finished, she took one last look at the eastern sunrise, rising over the far reaches of the oceanic horizon. She had hoped that it rise over a world owned by the free...and devoid of them. Sadly though...some stories just didn't get that happy ending that everyone was always told as children was guaranteed. She turned, walking down the hill side towards the plateau, her eyes staring at the steering wheel she was about to grip, the route she was about to take. In all her years, every time on the eve of battle she'd stare at that wheel, her blood icy and on fire in her veins. Her heart would flutter and pump, and her brain would rage and dance with anxiety and readiness. Not today. Today her blood flowed like a stream through her. Her mind focused and her path clear, her heart beating its steady beat. It was peace, she felt...peace over what she had to do. She hated it, and welcomed it. Cobalt was leaning with his back against the side of the Kamacho, more towards the front near the bonnet. His arms were crossed, his bull mask resting comfortably atop his head. The horns were unpolished and dull in color, the leather and paint flaking and chipping away across its surface. They were supposedly built to last but...everything fades away eventually. It was the harsh truth at the heart of several matters. "Rhea." He started. "Don't." she replied, moving past him towards the back of her truck. "Rhea..." He started again. "I said, don't." Once again she retorted, opening the back tailgate and dragging the massive 7.62 chambered PKM from the back, going over it in firm, OCD-like detail. Ammo, belt, feed, bolt, ammo again, sights, optics, grip, ammo a third time. "I did what you asked," Cobalt stated, pushing up off of the truck after a moment of no reply, moving towards her "My end of the bargain was held up. Should I expect you to do the same?" "What do you think?" Rhea huffed tiredly, almost miserably as she chanced a glance upwards, her maskless visage staring at him with the fatigue of an insomniac in her eyes, but a burning fire from deep within her irises. "You helped me, I let you and L-1 go. That was the deal. You can take her and go back to Tokyo...all files were shredded, burned, and wiped as soon as Palmer Taylor went up and you handed over the coordinates. Deal sealed, check, and marker." Cobalt tightened his lips, staring at her for a moment before giving her a nod. She went back to her gear, pushing the PKM aside and unzipping the black duffel bag resting next to the heavy machine gun. Tac-rig, grenades, drum-magged MP5, throwing knives, her pistols and under-armed holsters...and her mask. She took it very carefully in her hands, staring closely at it and turning it over in her hands. The little red-led light she was looking for blinked steadily behind the left eye hole, an indicator that no, she had nothing to worry about, and that yes, when the time came, if it did...wouldn't really matter in the long run. It was a statement anyway...and it'd be an 'A' for effort on her part. Still...be nice if she managed to reach them before she fell. Did she have enough morphene? "You don't have to do this," Cobalt grumbled after a long, uncomfortable silence. She didn't pause from her work, checking magazines and chambers, ensuring everything was ready to go. "You could just give the coordinates to the hive to Langely, to the LSPD or Kirk...why do you have to-" "Because by the time they mobilize and move on the Hive, you know as well as I do that it won't -be- there Cobalt," Rhea snapped, tossing one of her Berettas back into the bag. "You know it, I know it. Contingency 1-1-Alpha-Yurella, scorched earth. If the Blessings think for a second that the Government is encroaching on them, they'll cook the hive. I can't risk it." "Yes..." Cobalt said uneasily, a tone she'd never imagine an Enforcer carrying in his throat "But what do you hope to accomplish down there...? You can't win this war by yourself." Rhea zipped up the bag, slamming the tail gate shut as she walked around Cobalt towards the driver seat. She opened the door, putting one hand up on the hand rail and hiking a heeled boot up onto the step-rail. She turned her head to face him after a long, quiet pause. "You're right...I can't," She said, staring into his mask "But it's not about winning the war anymore...not for me. What I do or what happens from here on in, it won't be up to me. I threw the reins up into the air Cobalt...now it's up to the rest of them who gets to take them. San Andreas...or The Blessings. My part in this is done." Cobalt shook his head as Rhea stepped into the cab of the truck, his hand reaching out and grabbing her wrist as she attempted to close the door. "I'm not going to try and stop you, but I'm telling you, what you're going to do will barely put a dent in anything they've got going on. It'll be nothing more than a shout into an abyss, you'll get no answers or satisfaction in return." She didn't answer for a long moment, staring intently through the windscreen before slowly sliding on her fox mask, clasping it in place. When she did finally turn her head, she crossed her free arm over her chest and laid a gentle hand atop the one grasping her wrist, patting it. "I know...but then again that's been all my life has been isn't it? Screaming into a cold abyss." He slowly took his hand away, staring at her as she pulled her arms back, turning over the engine to her Kamacho and resting one free hand on the wheel, the other on the door. "I know no one or nothing's gonna answer me...but damn it sure is nice to scream anyway. What I feel I've done and accomplished may seem like nothing to anyone...but its everything to me. That's what matters." She shut the door, clenching her fingers around the wheel after putting the vehicle in gear. "Goodbye Caleb," she said softly, peeling backwards and whirling the truck about to take off in a kick-up of dirt and dust, roaring off towards her destiny. He watched her go, crossing his arms and shaking his head. He waited until her taillights blinked out of sight before he quietly whispered after her "Goodbye...Agent R-2...Rhea." ~~~ "You know, I voted against you joining us in the first place," He said non-chalantly, the evening sun glinting across the texture of his white skull mask. The others hunt about, drinking and laughing, their blue coats and shirts catching the light of the overhead street-lamps that were just starting to come on. Red raised an eyebrow, turning her head as he went on. "You betrayed the Irish, fed em' to us that's true," he shrugged, gesturing towards her "You meant well I'm sure, but how we supposed to trust you if you could give the Irish up so easily, ya know? What if say...we did something like what they did to you. Would you give us up to?" Red didn't answer for a long moment, leaning up and drawing a knife she kept in the confides of her blue hoodie and twirling it between her fingers, holding it towards him handle first. "Go on," She offered, gesturing the knife up "Cut me open, see the color of blood that runs out...you'll get your answer." ~~~ One ladder rung after another. And another, and another. Further and further she descended into the dark. The way behind her was shut, her gear slung to her back and her PKM strapped to her front. She'd descend deeper, further into the abyssal hatch that lead into the maintenance structure of the hive. The blueprints Cobalt had provided would take her at least a third of the way to where she was headed, but her concerns on the last leg weren't ones that were going to weigh to heavily on her heart. She'd been confined to Blessing laboratories and facilities for years...she knew their layouts generally. A change here and there, but that was one of the fatal flaws of The Blessings...they were machines dedicated to efficiency. If something worked...why change it? Improve upon it sure...but all creatures had a skeleton, a foundation. She was sure to have no difficulties. She climbed down what felt like an eternity of ladder rungs, into the very bowels of hell itself before finally clacking a heeled boot on solid ground. She walked around the ladder, the iron-barred gate standing before her, a quick and deft picking of the lock and the snap of a red chemlight igniting her way forward. It'd be about a mile of walking she thought...the last chance she'd have to take inventory. She didn't think about the people...her loved ones. She kept them in a tiny pocket in her brain, there but unacknowledged. There'd be time to reflect on them...soon. ~~~ "I am so, tired, of him treating me like shit," Red huffed angrily, her arms crossed and her legs pacing her back and forth. Her goggles were perched high up on her head, her dark blue T-shirt wrapped around her neck and pulled down in a bunch from atop her head temporarily as the sun got lower and lower. "It ain't like that," Flint said in return, watching her pace back and forth. He wished she'd understand...but this wasn't anything that words were gonna make sense of, not here anyway. "He's hard on you yeah, but don't think for a second he don't know about your loyalty. You've proved it time and time again Red, that shit's not in question, won't ever be." "Then why?" Red grunted, throwing her hands up "Why the ridicule, why the constant harassment, what's it gonna take to get even a fucking nod?!" Flint shook his head, his eyes soft as he pointed to her heart and then to her head. "You know why," He said, watching as her pacing stopped and her head turn to look at him. He saw her, even through that mask he saw her. She couldn't hide from him...especially from him. He stood up, adjusting his turtleneck and motioning back towards the Grove. "Come on," He said "Sun's going down, WCA's coming." ~~~ The roar was unbelievable. The alarms, the shell casings, the screaming. Her gun rattled ferociously, the barrel swinging too and fro as she turned and pivoted in her brisk pace. The front loading docks behind her were ablaze of fire and sparking munitions, the explosions rumbling through the entire complex as she squeezed the trigger, her shoulder thumping in time with the beat of her machine gun. Down the hallways she stalked, deeper and deeper into the complex. "DIE," she screamed, armed guards and security falling in tatters before her as they swarmed out of side doors and passages adjacent to hers. She turned as they emerged, hurling the massive weapon across in a strafing fury of gunfire as she bellowed a symphony of rage. She was cutting them down like grass, her weapon chugging away until the loud clicking was finally heard over the gunfire itself, and the box finally emptied of rounds. She tossed the smoking, smoldering piece of death-dealing machinery aside, panting as her head whipped about, looking for the way forward. 'Logistics' she read on an overhead sign. 'Cargo, testing, subject holding...' She blinked. Subject Holding? Did that mean there were.... She took off, her footfalls heavy on the metallic floor as she drew her sidearms out from their holsters, one in each hand and plowing through the other personnel who were fleeing for their lives and trying to get away from the sounds of battle. Guards emerged, the slides of her pistols racking backwards as she discharged them as quickly as they appeared. She rounded a corner, then another, down a hallway, another corner, four more guards, four more dead guards soon after. Finally a set of double doors. She shouldered through them, her pistols up. A long, open room stretched before her, two rows of large, cylinder-shaped tanks flanking her with one on each side. Most were empty, but one looked like it was active, further down towards the other end of the room. She pushed on, making her way down between the rows towards the ethereally-blue glowing tank before she suddenly stopped. Her pupils dilated slightly, turning her head as she made to look towards the entrance. She wore a jumpsuit much like her own red-colored one...except hers looked much more clean, unworn, and 'modern' in comparison to her own relic. The accent lines of her jumpsuit were aglow with violet color, the eyes of her modified fox mask gleaming with lavender light. "R-2," Her sister-agent stated, form statuesque, her vacant eyes staring through her mask "You are in violation, you will submit for execution." Red scoffed, whirling about, unslinging and dropping her MP5 and drawing the hammers back on her pistol and aimed them towards the Blessing Agent before her. "Submit this bitch!" she challenged, squeezing the triggers. As she did so however, the lights above suddenly shut off, the lavender lighting from her suit vanishing as her muzzle flashes lit up the darkness for a brief moment and then brought her back into the abyss. She huffed, reloading as quickly as she could before turning in all directions, squeezing the triggers wildly. She knew she wasn't going to hit her mark, she just needed a little light, just enough to- THERE! She dropped the pistol in her right hand, trading it for a knife she drew from the sheath along her arm, crashing it into the blade she saw out of the corner of her eye, its metallic glint reflecting the muzzle flash. The violet lights suddenly gleamed into view, the agent tilting her head and staring at her in uncomfortably close proximity as she pushed the guard of her knife against Red's. "You are an older model," it stated "Obsolete. You cannot compete." The agent didn't even flinch as Red brought the other handgun she clutched around, pressing it between her eyes and pulling the trigger. A heart-stopping 'click' sounded throughout the room as the agent tilted her head forward and hissed "And you cannot count." They parted for a moment, Red dropping her other gun and unsheathing the hatchet at her side, getting into a low stance as the violet fox in turn drew a machete out of its holding across her back, hissing "Yesssss...!!!" and mirroring Red's movements, the two warriors slowly encircling one another before launching forward with a cry, crashing blade into blade. The lights above flickered wildly, shutting on and off as the damage Red had wrought behind her played havoc on the structural integrity of the facilities power. A swing, a round house, an upper cut and a stab. Beneath the cascading, bursting bulbs above them, the foxes danced. ~~~ "Reina?" "Yeah?" "...We're sisters, right?" "...is that a, trick question?" "No just...we're graduating soon, right? You've got Liberty City to look forward too and I...well, I dunno really." "Well we've got Tokyo too...Rhea my classes aren't due to start for another year, plenty of time to get the racing out of our blood until then," "Well no it's not that it's just...I don't want you to forget about me after the fact you know? Once you get to your big fancy hospital I just...don't want you to forget." "...ok how could that ever be possible? Are you ok? Where's all this coming from?" "I've just been thinking...that's all. You know I'd be willing to do anything for you right?" "Well yeah, the same goes for you...we're sisters." "No, Reina...I mean it. I will do anything for you. I'll do anything you need...I'll protect you at all costs. Doesn't matter what it costs, or how long I have to...I'll always protect you." "...Protect me? Protect me from...what. Rhea...what's going on? Seriously, what's going on, you're scaring me. Rhea? Rhea!" ~~~ Red staggered backwards, grasping the handle of the knife stuck in her shoulder. With a pained shout and cry of pure defiance, she ripped the blade free and clutched it in her free hand, her other grasping onto the blood soaked hatchet. The violet fox's side was torn open, a clean cleave right over her hip as the two of them panted and wheezed at one another. It was the heaviest wounds they had dealt to each other so far, a myriad of other scrapes, bruises, cuts, and scratches tearing at their clothes and skin. Red threw her arms out wide, a laughing roar bubbling out of her throat "Obsolete!? Keep up bull-slut, you're about to eat a lot more than my fucking blades!" "E-NOUGH," the agent spat back, hurling herself towards the red-clad woman. Red ducked, turned and side-stepped. Come on, go for it...GO for it! Go for it like she would! Red watched her movements carefully, stepping left and right and watching as her adversaries attacks started to telegraph themselves more and more. It was a painful process...but the technique was simple. In concept it was simple, in execution it'd cost her blood. She had to think from the standpoint of an agent who had been sent to kill her. How would Red kill someone like Red? Let her get angry, let her get frustrated, kill her when she over extends. That is precisely what the violet fox did as she stepped too far forward, her knee bending at just the angle Red needed. Red skirted by her knife, sliding by and whipping her knife across the hamstring the violet fox left exposed. A pained cry escaped her, her foe dropping to a knee and giving Red the moment she needed to roll across her back and twirl her body viciously upright, her arm swinging around from below with as much might as she could muster, and driving the blade of her hatchet straight through the fox-mask and clean into the skull of her foe. The violet fox dropped like a bag of rocks, hitting the floor with blood gushing from the split crevice of her mask. Red stood over her, raising her boot and stamping the heel through her skull several times, blood and brain bursting out from whatever hole they could ooze through. "43," Red wheezed, lifting her mask and spitting down on the forty-third agent she had put down in the years she had been amongst, in, and against The Blessings. Forty three lives halted...forty three lives taken away. And for what... Red turned towards the still-active tank, pressing a syringe of morphene through the leg of her suit and depressing the plunger. She was responsible for killing forty three people like her. She would be responsible for saving the forty-fourth. She limped up to the tank after scooping up her SMG, her breath ragged and her wounds screaming, eyes squinting as she read the display positioned at the front of the tank. 'A-1 - A.H. - STATUS: STABLE - STAGE: MKU3.STG.1.5' Red blinked, staring at the neon green words in alarm. The woman in the tank...she had yet to be...she was still...! She smashed the 'VACATE' command with as many key-presses as she could, watching as the tank cycled its release protocols and began to empty the tank. Red turned away, heading to the end of the room to the next set of doors. The woman in the tank wasn't her objective...but it was an added plus. She burst through the doors, the pain still present but dulled if only for a moment as it wound its way through her body. She clutched a hand over her shoulder, grunting as the emergency lights gleamed over head. She watched the signs above as she made her way through, most of the halls devoid of life now as she made her way into the heart of the complex. There were no more guards...no more workers. She knew what that meant. They were paving and clearing the way...for them. Enforcers were coming. She only had a limited amount of time to reach her destination before they arrived...it was her last chance. What she was looking for suddenly appeared in one of the fading lights above, the word 'ADMIN' coming into brief view before fading into the dark. She took off down the hall, mustering up as much strength as she could to push her down the final length of her journey. A final pair of doors laid before her, her legs carrying her forward with the last might she could muster into them, and with a throat-scratching cry she burst through. Her vision burst with light, of muzzle flashes belonging to her, and the them. Out of the four Enforcers that had stood before her, she saw two drop, riddled to pieces. The gunfire had ceased, barrels smoking in the dimly lit, large office block they stood in. She panted, the two of them watching her closely as her arms slumped down to her sides, her head bowing. Two flowers of blood were blooming on her side and torso, her legs shaking to the point where they could no longer support her. She dropped to her knees as the clack of shoes on marble flooring rang in her ears. Her breath was ragged, a wheeze as she felt her mask lifted up off of her head, her gaze tilting up weakly to behold the panther-masked Colonel who had visited her a year ago, standing before her and taking a curious glance at her mask. He turned it over in his hand, studying it for a long moment before he scoffed quietly, turning his masked-eyes to hers. "A valiant effort...R-2," He said, turning and walking back towards his two remaining Enforcers, the two of them reloading their handguns and standing at the ready to end her at his imminent command. "The entire year we gave you....and you gave us this," The Colonel said with huffing disappointment. He turned slightly back, her mask laying in his hand as he shook his head. "I mean, really...a Power Plant...and a suicide run. You really think that was going to be enough?" "N-nope...." Red managed to choke, a pained, wheezing chuckle gurgling from her throat "But h-hey...any small amount that I can do to spite you fucking...stupid, fucking fuckfaces is so worth it...in -ANY- capacity." She raised her head, her eyes straining to stay open as the Colonel shook his head again, looking back at her mask. "Your Government is complacent...your police force a contracted militia to keep the police-state status quo in check...your armed criminal organizations becoming more and more militant and vengeful as the days go on. Your civilians body count is rising exponentially, your populace was kept in the dark about our presence and about the attack on Palmer Taylor on purpose." He looked her up and down as one would an unfortunate stain on one's rug, kissing his teeth slightly. "Commissioner Langely has chosen to deliver the city to us by way of his complacent decisions to bury whatever it is you've brought to the attention of this city as nothing more than rumors and wild ravings of a mad woman...maybe he thinks our way is better after-all?" Red clutched a hand to the hole in her chest, pressing it there as tightly as she could. The Colonel turned, walking back around his desk and sitting, placing her mask on the top of the mahogany surface and clasping his hands together in front of him right next to it. "Regardless..." The Colonel said with a shrug "I did tell you, last year. No matter what you did, you were never going to stop the invasion." "O-oh...?" Rhea quirped, the idle hand by her side reaching slightly behind her as she mustered what breath she could to speak. "It's....It's a good thing stopping you wasn't my intention..." The Colonel tilted his head, unsure of what she was getting at, his Enforcer's chancing a glance between each other then towards the dying fox before them. "I k-knew...I'd never be able to stop you...I couldn't...but..." Her hand came back around as she lifted it up towards them with a blood-smeared smile. "I couldn't save San Andreas...but I knew what it would take to buy San Andreas a chance to save itself. Too bad we're not gonna be there to see the end result." The Colonel watched as Red flipped the cover on the detonator she had in her hand, the woman's voice echoing towards her as her fox mask beeped rapidly beside him, he red led light behind the iris blinking rapidly until it became a solid color. "A valiant effort Colonel, but you lose-" A flash of light roared across Red's vision. And all went black. ~~~ Rhea sat against the tree, her back pressed gently into the bark, her lips stretched in a happy smile. The wind blew briskly across her face, her fox mask vacant from her grasp and out of her mind at last. It was a beautiful summer day...the sun shining, the temperature perfect. She could hear them in the distance, laughing, cracking jokes. Talks of cuisine and music reached her ears softly, and not a single word uttered about cops, or Steel, or any of their adversaries. Oh to be back here again...her peaceful limbo. She knew this time it'd be the last time...the last barrier...the last wait. There's no way, absolutely no, fucking way that she'd be brought back by- "Fool," Red sighed from the opposite side of the tree, her fox mask pressed tightly over her head, her arms crossed and her gaze tilted up to the sky. "You've really reserved yourself into believing it this time. Of all the times, you really think -THIS- is the one?" "There's no way back from this Red," Rhea sighed, her smile turning slightly into a frown though she kept her eyes peacefully shut. "Try all you want...but I'm going exactly where I need to...and you're coming with me." "Unlikely..." Red grumbled, turning her head to address her counterpart from her side of the trunk. "What did I tell you...? Huh? We don't get the happy ending Rhea...we gave it up, willingly. We turned that option down when we took on this mantle in -her- stead. -WE- chose to be here, over letting -HER- take it." Rhea shrugged "Ok? You can argue against bullets and the last of Lola's C4 all you want but...we fulfilled our end of the deal, didn't we? We willingly took the mask, spared her from having to wear it...we served our time, paid our penance, and made our last-ditch ever to make amends for it...spare as many as we could along the way. We're done. It's finished. The war will start and...well, San Andreas will have a chance to fight back because of us. It's a lot more of a chance than the rest of America got. I'm at peace with that...you should be too. Red let out a short cackle, turning back and shaking her head. She turned her head, recrossing her arms as she spat "Oh come off it. Death doesn't give you a free ticket to enlightenment or the ability to make self-righteous speeches. Besides..." she trailed off for a moment, her voice quiet before she said "...we're not done paying. There's still more blood to bleed...more things to do. San Andreas may have a chance, but it's a weak one at best. And you know...you -know- that if we're gone, the way to -her- is completely paved and free of any risk from us. They'll come for her." "Red...." Rhea sighed wearily "Let go..." "Fine," Red countered simply with a scoff and a smile "Let her go too." Rhea grimaced, the warmth of the sun disappearing from her skin and a low pain starting to build its way up through her body. It grew and grew in intensity as smoke filled her lungs, ash burned her throat, and a sudden surge of horrendous pain quaked its way through her now racing heart. She opened her eyes suddenly, staring into her fox mask as Red screamed in her face "IT'S AS YOU SAID, THE DEAD CANNOT SUFFER, AND WE'VE MUCH MORE TO SUFFER FOR BEFORE WE GET OUR OWN BLESSED GRAVE. NOT THIS TIME LITTLE GIRL! WE'RE DONE, WHEN I FUCKING SAY, WE'RE DONE. NOW GET UP!" Rhea let out a wheezing cough, alarms blaring overhead as orange and red colored flames danced in her vision. She had been thrown quite far from the blast, through the double doors and out into the hallway. The office behind her was a blaze of fire, smoke churning out wildly from its remains within. "GET UP," she heard a scream somewhere in her own head, words on her lips that weren't hers but were hers. "MOVE," she commanded herself, hoisting herself and slumping against the wall, dragging herself through. Footstep by footstep she made her way through, into one hall, into a service elevator, upwards to whatever awaited her above. Her vision blacked out several times, yet her body moved. Sometimes she took the wheel, sometimes something else. She didn't know how she had made it so far, with such little life left in her. She tasted air sometime later, she knew that. Air and a beautiful breeze. The wind whipped around her as she staggered about, her breath a wheeze, shallow and fading. White flashed across her vision. Bullets, car chases, battles and friends fought and long gone now... She heard him, behind her. She turned around, her maskless eyes vacant and searching as she gave a tiny breath and felt gentle hands pull her backwards. Her voice asked "Flint...?" There she fell. There she lay. A thing of beauty. That will never fade away. Special Thanks to everyone not listed but who contributed regardless. Your efforts and the efforts of all staff and players involved will be cherished and remembered for an age! This entire year has been a wild ride! See you in the next one (Epilogue to follow)
  6. August 27th, 2022 5:20:35 P.M. 2 Days, 6 Hours, 39 minutes, 25 seconds remaining. "You ex-agents....you never do anything subtlety, do you?" Cobalt grumbled, leaning against the front of the Kamacho with Red. He eyed her once over, his stomach in a knot over her appearance. She was in a slick, black, skin-tight jumpsuit, her form defined in perfect detail with her fox mask perched securely atop her head. It was an older jumpsuit, one he knew she had used to wear during the black ops she had run for The Blessings in an age past. It was a bit more sleek than her more iconic red jumpsuit, but that one was more built for open combat, lined with bullet-resistant material and with a bit more 'mobility' in mind in its design. When she didn't answer his question, he shook his head and turned towards her slightly "Do you really think destroying Palmer Taylor is going to push Langely to action?" "No," Red said tiredly, tapping on her phone and scrolling through her contacts "But it'll shake the city awake I hope. Even if he doesn't do something, maybe the people will back him so far up into a corner that he'll have no choice. He can't look away from a skyscraper-sized fireball." "And if it doesn't work...?" Cobalt asked quietly, his arms tightening against his chest. Everything she had done, everything she had set out to do...tried and failed...it had all come down to this moment, this night. It was bold, brash...dangerous. If she didn't play this right, The Blessings would go completely unnoticed, completely free to do as they wished. She had the opportunity tonight...to either shut the door on The Blessings forever...or open it wide. Either way, tonight they would all go down in history as heroes to the damaged, and monsters to the unknowing. "Then we lose," Red answered, putting her phone up to the ear of her mask. Cobalt snorted softly, quietly pushing himself away from the truck and quietly walking away. Nothing more need be said, the time for words was over. Now...now was the time to watch what agents did best. He could only hope that this time something 'good' would come out of something so awful. Cobalt had joked with Red earlier in the day about her choice of 'Enforcers', a team of four she had assembled to help her. They may as well have been her enforcers now, the psychopaths who would dare follow a mad-woman like this into the very jaws of hell, with no promises of a better future and a hope slimmer than a thread of hair. "Do you know who you look like now...?" Cobalt teased, the hint of being compared to the Matriarch and her team not particularly received well by the fox-mask clad female. It wasn't like she was forcing them to wear leather and bull masks anyway... Regardless, the fact that Lola, Urban, Leah, and Naomi agreed to help her...agreed to do this as pretend 'Blessings', to willingly follow her on this....the irony wasn't lost on her. She had to become what she hated, what she was fighting against...to make any sort of stand against her enemies. Was this what the Blessings had intended...? Was this just one of the many lessons they were trying to teach her? The thought tormented her, churning in her brain night after night leading up to this moment. What was it all for...what was it all worth? Was doing this to San Andreas, setting it on fire...was this going to be worth it? The scarier question, the one she refused to acknowledge and continued to ignore despite its loud screaming in the back of her head: 'How far would her rage carry her? How far was she really willing to go to stop The Blessings? Was she ready to pay every terrible, expensive cost it was going to take to stop them?' She supposed that tonight would be a small part of that answer. The calls were made, the team assembled. Lola she kept in the dark, a side contingency to be kept safe that needed to be as far away from tonight as possible. She knew that Lola would figure out what happened...she find out exactly how 'some' of her explosives were used. She wasn't sure how the poor girl was going to handle what was about to happen, but that'd be up to her to figure out. Afterall, if Red failed, Lola and her Enforcers might be the only thing left standing between The Blessings and the total destruction of the state. Red waited for only a short while, lifting up her mask to have herself one last cigarette as her 'Enforcers' showed up one by one. The plan was discussed, the details of all that was about to happen laid out...including the final chance to back out if they still wanted. But none of them did. With whatever resolve she could muster in her heart, Red instructed her team to mount up, and with one shaky breath, steeled herself for the events to come. It was time to bring the light to Los Santos...by taking it all away.
  7. July 14th, 2022 3:40:54 P.M. 46 Days, 8 Hours, 19 minutes, 6 seconds remaining. "You remind me of me...a long time ago." "A long time ago, I looked at a woman in a mirror. She too would stare with a look of apprehension, unsure if she could trust the creature that stood there before her, wearing her face and skin. I looked into those silver eyes and wondered...'is there anything left of you in there?' I could not answer, for I did not know. For over a decade, I was forced to serve monsters who tore and scooped out my innards, and made me into one of them. Reborn in their image, I was the tool to which they used to unhinge and destabilize their enemies. I was the blade that cut the heart out of those who would stand before them. The one who they sent to flick the first domino. I was very good at what I did, half because of the training, the drugs, and the mind-tearing pain they pumped and pumped into my body and my soul. The other half...? Well, I enjoyed it. Killing, sabotage, infiltration...the rush, the power it can give. It's intoxicating, the entirety of it. It's why they select who they select, why they think that bloodlines account for a little more 'stability' in their agents then random people though they do dabble in both. They forced my mother to conceive and have me and my sister, and who would have of thought...we were the perfect candidates. Like my mother, I had a natural affinity for death and subterfuge. I had drive, focus, and above all...rage. I was monumentally angry all the time, living and breathing on a hair trigger. It was all momentum too, scary amounts. Once I got going, I couldn't stop, couldn't think until I erased everything I looked upon, until I was the only breathing creature in a couple mile radius of wherever The Blessings sent me to fight. And when the dust settled? When everyone was dead? Most of the time when I was disobedient, when the MKU2 started to wear off or I was showing signs of resistance to the cognitive reprogramming they'd send Enforcers to collect me. Other times, it was one of my sister-agents. They did this to...weed out the weak, to promote a line of succession where only the strongest would survive. As much as I was terrified of them, I always prayed to whatever God would listen to a heathen's words that I would see bull masks appearing over the horizon, and not foxes. Those days, when they sent The Enforcers last, they straight-jacketed me and took me home...and piled the pieces of whatever was left of my sister-agent from the pavement, and whatever of her brain they could salvage from within the blood-filled bucket that became her mask into baggies, and brought her home too. I want to say that after the Vice City incident, after they murdered my Caroline and I dropped a 40-story building on top of their heads that things were gonna get better, that I had escaped and I was free at last. I was so engrossed in being out from under the pressing thumb of The Blessings and the feelings that it gave me, that I totally forgot how to be realistic. It only got worse. The thing about MKU2 is that, if it's not applied or regulated at specific times...you start to 'wake up'. The idea of being a Blessing Agent is that you are declared inhuman. You're just a robot programmed with instructions. There is no room for empathy, humanity, or mercy. MKU2 ensures that whoever you were, whatever lies in your soul and what defines you, is crushed and killed. The greater danger is when they apply it over a long period of time. Eventually you don't get to come back, you stay lost. A soulless, walking automaton. That's what annoyed them the most about me too. I was very good at resisting. More and more they tried to adjust the dosage, run more tests, deploy Enforcers behind me ready to intercept on mission completion, just to stop me from running away and killing their staff. It got so bad to the point where I was hunting my sister-agents from within the hive itself, breaking into their cages and choking them to death in the night. Every light that I watched go out in them, satisfied the both of us. Red got her death. Rhea got to set another poor soul free. It was starting to get 'mutual', and that's when the real red flags started going up. That's when the suicide runs started. When those failed, they killed Caroline and, well... ...sometime after that, I became San Andreas's problem. The pain didn't get any softer with time, neither did the anger. I was suffering from a multitude of problems, compounding and building off one another. Trauma, PTSD, anxiety, withdrawal from MKU2, anger...it was enough to shatter most. I had drive though, a reason, a rock...a purpose to stay holding on no matter the cost. Her. The other one. The original who they wanted. She's here, amongst the populace. Nobody knows who she is...and it is going to stay that way. It was her that I thought about while standing on that beach, a thought that went wayward whilst looking at you...a woman who reminded me of me. I was like you once, clinging to my paranoia and blind to the truth. The lengths you went to to ensure your own safety. Did you notice I didn't even flinch, barely even acknowledged the gun you drew on me? It's why I came unarmed. You needed to trust me, and I needed to teach you. You explained to me of course why you faked me out the first time. Had to be sure, of course. Who wouldn't be concerned? A strange woman in a fox mask asking for enough military grade C4 to level a small town? Sure I had my reputation but...you were too 'young' to really grasp the weight of it. That's not your fault, and I wouldn't even see that in a demeaning way. You've got a lot of room to grow. A lot to learn. That's why you remind me of me. Like me, you're standing at the precipice of a moment that's going to change your life forever. You're going to look back at this very moment, and you will be watching as the things you done have a lasting impact not just on you...but everyone and everything. Because of what you've just done, giving these materials to me, you've set in motion a chain-reaction of events that are going to follow you the rest of your life. You're going to tell yourself "This...I did this, this was because of me." And you would be right. The difference though, is that I'm going to be here to support you when that happens. The weight that's going to fall on you is going to be heavy, and it is going to hurt. It has to be done though. San Andreas cannot survive a Blessing invasion. I would know, I helped in the Invasion of Vice City. I know the timetable and I know how this is going to end. All other options have been exhausted...and now, you're standing here with me on the sand. You know in your heart what's coming, or an idea of it. Maybe you think you're prepared for it...maybe you think 'Ah, I'll be fine...it's just some bombs'. Oh...you poor thing. You, like your peers, like your government...need to learn the hard way. There's nothing wrong with that, sometimes it takes the hard way to really learn a lesson. It's only natural. When it does though...try not to beat yourself up about it too much, ok? I'll be there...maybe not right away, but eventually after the weight of what you've done has a chance to marinate in your heart and your soul. That's why I chose you. I chose you for a 'very' specific reason. You have all the capabilities that we're going to need to rebuild, once we tear it all down to its foundations. That's the way we beat them. We use their own methodology against them. You're going to help us force Los Santos to completely tear its own structure of complacent nature down to its foundation...and then we're going to rebuild it. When we're done, The Blessings will have no choice but to turn and run. I must admit though...there are a few things that I know will be challenging when it comes to passing on to you what you'll need to survive in the aftermath...but I have confidence that you'll make it through. You're going to need to, when this fails. Sleep soundly tonight, Lola DeValera. There aren't many nights left where you can have that luxury. We'll be in touch." Above: Lola Meets Red Below: The Schematics
  8. May 25th, 2022 8:21:37 P.M. 96 Days, 3 Hours, 38 minutes, 23 seconds remaining. Cobalt stood in front of the corkboard, staring intently at the swath of information that Red had put together over the past year. He was actually pretty impressed with how far she had actually come, the cliché' red yarn tied between various pushpins, pictures and polaroid's of people and places tacked up in a chaotic array, with violent scrawl across several sheets and blank pieces of paper that screamed "AGENT!?" or "INVASION POINT?" but with open ended questions numbering to a headache inducing amount. From what he could discern of the mess she had made out of the wall of her living room, she was close to figuring out the full extent of The Blessings' battle plans...but had absolutely nothing concrete to prove it. He understood. Better than most really. His own board, which consisted of an imported desk from the local furniture shop, was strewn about mostly with GPS coordinates, laptops, and other such little knick-knacks that included circle-pointed maps and small newspaper clippings of police chases and their end results. Pinpointing the Blessing Hive, that was his task. It was the reason Red brought him from Japan to Los Santos. It was a simple one on paper, a straight forward task: "Find the Hive, return to your life." Granted, at the initial transaction she didn't have anything worth convincing him to return to the states. Leave a life solitude and safety, far beyond the reaches of The Blessings, to get back into the major storm of death that swirled about their entire organization just to spare some city he had no basis or reason to care about...because she asked him to? She was out of her mind. Completely out of the question for the most basic and obvious of reasons, Cobalt turned her down on the spot as any sensible human being would. That is, until she name dropped 'Lavender'. The urge to kill her then and there was multiplied by a thousand, and in that moment that stupid fucking fox would've had her neck snapped before she could draw another breath for even daring to bring Lavender into this...but he knew Agents, especially the danger that Ex-Agents posed. All that death and violence and ingenuity that The Blessings pumped into the synapsis of their brains, erasing all traces of life and hard-coding monumental violence in its place...and then having it pop off the leash and escape. It was dangerous, having a 'loose-cannon' like that running about. Not for the sake of the people that were in extreme danger of said Ex-Agents if they ever crossed paths, but at the risk of exposure they could bring to the organization they had escaped from. It was why the 'loose-end' policy existed in the first place. Send the Agents on deadlier and deadlier missions, until eventually they were slotted for the suicide run. Something way out of their league that even by statistics, logistics, and general reasoning that no Agent could be capable of surviving. The Agent didn't much care either...how could they? They were programmed to obey, to execute the directive, and to return back. Those that didn't had the Enforcers deployed to retrieve, or kill them. It was that fact alone that frustrated Cobalt to his core. The fact that Agent R-2 survived the suicide run and returned to Vice City should've been a warning sign enough to deploy additional Enforcers, or even the Legionäre at the very least. It was that completely overlooked oversight that caused the Vice City incident in the first place, where the tower fell and Agent C-1, the revered Caroline Verona had lost her life because of Red, and the Matriarch's complete disregard for protocol. The more and more he pondered it over the years though...he was starting to doubt more and more that maybe Red surviving what transpired in Miami wasn't a coincidence...but it was a stretch nonetheless. Because of it though...it was why he was standing here today. Why, even though he wasn't sure exactly how (nor was he very much surprised), Red somehow knew about Lavender and the lengths that Cobalt had gone to for her safety. He knew that Red was resourceful...but he vastly underestimated just how far she was willing to go to fight The Blessings, and it was a mistake he'd never make again. Just like the Matriarch in Vice City...all it took was one mistake. So search he would. He'd look for the Blessing Hive, he'd find it, tell Red where to go, and he'd return to Japan to move Lavender somewhere else. Red would die horrifically at the hands of The Blessings he'd hope, and all that would remain would be to track down any loose ends that may be able to divulge Lavender's location at any point. That was the only reason he agreed to return to the states. Killing Red outright in Japan would've enacted several contingencies he knew she'd have in place. If he didn't agree to go back, Lavender was gonna die and he knew it. On the same token, Cobalt was at risk of being re-exposed to The Blessings, which would put him AND Lavender in the crosshairs. The only guarantee he had that such a thing wasn't going to happen was to go along with Red...the lesser chance at Lavender being discovered. Damned if he did, damned if he didn't. His train of thought was broken slightly, the sound of a door crashing open making him turn wildly on his heels, stance low and hands out at the ready to engage at the slightest provocation. Though when he saw who it was that ascended the stairs, his guard didn't drop anyway. There was really no telling just where in that fucked-up little psyche of hers, if Red was never 'not' on the verge of a total psychotic break. He had heard cases of Agents going years without so much of a hiccup in their programming, only to snap and go on a absolute blood bender because someone sneezed or said something a little off that didn't click quite right with the auditory senses of said Agents. When it came to his Enforcer training...you could never leave it to chance. Always be ready to kill them. Always. Red stormed into the room, picking up one of her kitchen table chairs and hurling it across the open air. It sailed over the couch and crashed with a violent explosion of wood against the far wall, landing in a heap of splinters on the floor. Cobalt watched the exchange wordlessly, looking between the chair and the now-pacing Red, her fists clenched and her face redder than her namesake. She had her head in one hand, the other on her hip, sputtering and grumbling harshly and rapidly with hissing words and absolute rage roaring like wild-fire in those silver irises. He watched her storm up to the kitchen counter, pick up her phone, look at it for a split second without so much as powering on the screen before putting it back down again. Four times she did this, before Cobalt finally straightened his posture slightly and cleared his throat. "Let me guess..." He said, the black, abyssal depths of his bull mask staring at her angry form "They didn't believe you...?" Red had gone to petition some help from the Government, to the desk of Lewis Langely himself. She had hoped that even though her efforts with this 'supply drop' she had used these Shenzen Dragons for fell through with the LSPD, that maybe she could get some traction with it to the Government. Maybe her reputation would get enough to get her an inquiry at least, to at least get a general overlook of the potential threat in their midst. Pending that, all it'd take was for a few things to catch the shimmer of the GOV's spotlight and Red could greenlight a myriad of crumb trails that'd keep Langely's attention long enough for her to convince him to expose The Blessing Threat to the public, and dissuade the Invasion right in its tracks. That was the overall goal after all, to expose the coming storm. If they could, The Blessings would hopefully pull off the notion of Invasion, as their main path of quiet infiltration would be all but ruined. A stretch, to be sure, but a possible one if the Government would get on board. Judging by Red's entrance however...that did not happen. "Psychopaths, all of them," Red growled in heated frustration, the irony of such a statement not lost on Cobalt though he chose not to press that button "How, how can a Government, be so fucking negligent, so complacent?!" Cobalt shrugged slightly, looking back towards Red's board before muttering "You know how." Red shook her head, looking up towards him and throwing her hands out in an angry flail as she motioned between him and the board and hollering "It's not like that Cobalt! This isn't some satanic cult or aliens or some other national geographic level shit, this is something that you and I have ACTUALLY gone through once before! We know it's coming, we know the signs, but the fucking Government-" "The Government will do nothing," Cobalt interjected "Because the Government has not experienced this before. They cannot see what isn't displayed clearly in front of their very eyes, regardless of whatever it is you tell them. They simply cannot comprehend such dangers." He walked towards her board, motioning a hand to it "You know as well as I do, that when it comes to positions of power and the people behind them, a concept such as The Blessings might as well be talking about aliens. Did you really think that if you sat down and talked it out with them, how it was going to sound...?" "Of course I did!" Red snapped, plunking herself down on her couch and burying her hands in her hair for a moment, tugging at the roots in frustration "MK Ultra, CIA-based Cold War nationalists, I know how it fucking sounds." She looked up, shaking her head "But I'm not talking about a war from the stars, I'm talking about a war amongst us. As living proof we know what the fuck we're talking about, we know what's at stake, and the severity of such should be enough to at least warrant some basic investigation or...or som-" "Or nothing," Cobalt said, walking over to sit on the coffee table in front of Red, the same one that her and the Colonel played a forced game of chess on in August of last year. He placed his hands on his knees, shaking his head "Rhea...we've done this dance before. You know it, I know it...this is how The Blessings are advancing. You told me that The Colonel warned you about this...and you've known The Blessings to never overplay their hand, or to ever play anything without a specific reason. The only reason they told you is because they knew your Government would deny any acknowledgement of their existence. The Blessings 'cannot' exist to Lewis, because acknowledging a problem means he has to deal with it, and don't you think he'd rather not deal with a national terrorist threat based upon the ravings of a madwoman with an exceedingly violent record behind her?" Red kept staring at the ground, peeking between her fingers and not answering him which prompted Cobalt to sigh and continue. "You're trying to convince people of the concept of forces beyond their control or understanding. Human beings were not designed to do so, because we as a species have to control everything we encounter. We can't contend with the idea that there are things outside of our control, and we become violent when we encounter those things because if it's not with us, it's against us." At this, Red looked up, a grimace tight on her face as she breathed "Then what do you call 'One Nation, Under God'?" Cobalt shrugged slightly, leaning forward after a long moment once he collected his thoughts and spoke. "I call it the few amongst our dipshit species who still cling to an idea of faith and acceptance. The ones who can take a concept and choose whether to accept it, or do something about it. That's the only reason I can think of to why the Shenzen Dragons even bothered to help you, because while they didn't understand or could comprehend a thing such as The Blessings...they knew -you-. You had ties with several of their people, people who had faith in you. That faith brought power to your words, just like people who bring such feelings of faith to God's words empower His messages." "But," Red breathed, shaking her head "The Blessings aren't God...they're just monsters in masks with a stupid fucking agenda." Cobalt shrugged again with a grunt "No...but to some of the faithless, the concept is the same. Some people -need- proof, need to control everything within the scope of their view. It's why your state will always be a Police State at its very core. Sometimes even clear proof won't be enough either. I bet that even if you brought Langely a complete folder of evidence to his desk, he'd still dismiss it. It's the only road people like him will ever kn-" Red let Cobalt go on, though she wasn't really listening anymore. Beyond this, what options did she have? More fake drops, more fake clues? The Government and the LSPD were digging their heels in heavier and heavier with each attempt she made. They were writing her off as 'crazy' and her warnings translated as ravings. She'd have better luck sitting on a cardboard box with a megaphone shouting to people in Legion Square that the end times were coming. But, that was the city for you...always reacting, never going out of their way to prevent such disasters from- Her eyes widened suddenly. She stood up suddenly, much to Cobalt's alarm, making him lean back suddenly as she hurried towards her phone, grasping it up in her hand and dialing a number quickly. Cobalt was up and after her, tilting his masked head as he asked "What is it?" To this, Red put a finger to her lips to hush him for a moment before the line clicked over. "George?" Red asked into the phone. There was a pause and a nod, Red launching off into a small barrage of questions and hurried conversation. To what she was discussing with the person on the phone...Cobalt could only raise an eyebrow. It was a concept that he had known...but was unsure of its practice or application. It was a play he had only seen pulled off once...by a very old agent. For it to be Red to discover and ponder such a concept herself now...the irony of this wasn't lost on Cobalt either. She hurried past him, his turning to watch her as she approached her board and uncapped a marker, quickly scribbling a name onto a sheet of paper. He squinted, tilting his head. He didn't recognize the name in particular, but he knew of the organization to which said individual belonged to. To deal with people like this, and the nature of what she was probably asking this 'George' through the phone, well...this was nothing short of complete desperation now, the full extent of Red's power and what she was willing to do to stop The Blessings really starting to rear its ugly head. He couldn't help but be curious though, the humorous thought of watching this play out to its very end even for the sake of shits and giggles an ever present ping in the back of his skull. He knew what was coming, or at least an idea of it. It was the one fallback Agents always resorted to when all other options ran out. When the greatest fires were blazing around them, burning everything they knew to ash, only one thing ever seemed to work for them: Starting a bigger fire right next to it. Red hurried away, wordlessly grabbing her keys after a quick 'thanks' through the phone, and leaving without another word. He didn't bother asking her where she was going, didn't really need to. It was going to go off the rails now, and it was going to start with the name Red wrote on the board, scribbled in manic rapidness and circled half a million times:
  9. February 26th, 2022 9:53:55 P.M. 179 Days, 2 Hours, 6 minutes, 5 seconds remaining. M i r r o r - P a r k She walked quietly. Carefully. Slowly. Unnoticed, even with her iconic visage pressed over her head and face. Her smiling fox weaved carefully through the crowd partying it out on the streets of Mirror Park, in the suburbs located on the western side. It was odd, and a bit sad to think about...the fact that just a year ago she would've been greeted and waved over by friends, family, and loved ones in blue and black-checkered grey. She had a deep scar and a tattoo from both families, cementing her status and her place amongst them from now until she drew her final breath...but such families were gone now. Broken apart, brothers and sisters fading into obscurity, retiring, or hitching a plane to the next hellhole they could try in vain to control. With such departures, and with the slow, ever sinking knife of time pressing ever-so gradually into her heart, she too started to fade from the forefront of the society she once knew. Those left who knew her? DOC Guards, cops, maybe a Government official or two. Most only knew 'of' her, her legacy...a psychotic killer with an attitude problem and an unsettling proficiency at breaking into and out of places, like maximum security. "Furry. Foxxy. MSI-#002. Red. Miss Moraine," all titles and names she had been addressed by from her once-hated enemies on the other side of the law. No longer were the beloved friends she had in the criminal underworld around to keep her company. All she had now was the Law, watching her from afar, beholding the sad, declining state of an old retired gangbanger struggle against the ever growing concept of being irrelevant and pointless now that she had no crew to run with. What's worse, is that a lot of them treated her with respect. Not respect in the way that she 'deserved' it, but half out of courtesy for their protocols, and the other half as a respected enemy. In her time, she had not been an impossible foe to contend with, but a formidable one, one who had earned enough of a reputation and case file to put her on some very angry shit lists under some detectives' gazes. But now that she had hung up her AK, and chose a more 'peaceful', 'finding-yourself' path in life...they started to regard her more openly. Ironic, to say the least. It was as if they just...forgotten, what she had done to them all. All the death, all the murder, the chaos, the rage. She buried a considerable amount of law enforcement and...they gave her comforting smiles, kind words and gestures. They treated her like she was sick. Granted, she 'was', technically speaking, not so much actively but living with the scars of immense, unseeable trauma garroted into her brain...it earned her some modicum of sympathy amongst the lawful side of the razor wire. Whether or not that was a good thing...the jury was still out on that one. Or maybe she was just overthinking it, and that they were more grateful that they didn't have to spend the irritating amount of resources required to put an end to her bullshit so they could focus on more modern problems, like these morons. Red took a sideways look with a turn of her head towards whom she described. From what she could gather, there was a myriad of newer faces, newer colors and newer gangs having a block party in Mirror Park. She knew only a handful of them, drifters who passed from gang to gang like the sun rose and fell day to day, others more established groups and militias, trying to follow in the footsteps of The Council or to strike out on a newer, more modern takes on what it means to belong to the underworld. Dipshits. All of them, smiling and laughing and throwing caution to the wind. They didn't understand yet but they would soon enough. Perhaps to some of the more grizzled veterans sprinkled amongst these groups, they'd have an idea of combat and what it takes to survive sure...but maintaining one of these groups was vastly different to building one. Sure they'd rake in who they could, put a gun in their hands and tear up the city, blasting up each other or the cops who came after them. Unfortunately for them, a lot of the protocols and lengths of reach that LEO's had now in place were because of her and the groups that came before. Los Zetas, Triads, and others set the standard for a whole new level of pain that the Government could dish out against the underworld. These newer groups didn't understand that concept yet, having been regaled by the tales of the glory days, hundreds of people mowing each other down with 5.56 caliber automatics in a dazzling display of fireworks that sent tracers into the sky like it was the 4th of July. Moments like 'The Battle of Benny's', The Zetas-Wanted War, the war against the West Coast, just to name a few. They'd learn though...if they could hold themselves and their groups together long enough to withstand the SIB and DB branches. They didn't have many 'Jason Steels' anymore from what she noticed...but that didn't mean the danger was completely gone, but simply...'evolved'. Among them though...there was a singular group in particular she was after. Their roots from what she understood, had distant ties to the Triads, names she was familiar with and those that were somewhat familiar with her. She hoped that she could use those old familial ties as leverage, get some much desired help. Afterall, she had stood with the Triads on Grove Street during the West Coast occupation, hours and days spent holding the trenches against the Jamestown incursions in the dead of night, keeping herself awake on constant caffeine and adrenaline from jumping at shadows that moved in and out of her eyesight in the dark alleys that branched out before her in the dimly lit neighborhoods she fought tooth and nail for. Coupled with a few other mentionable moments and favors she had earned...she hoped she could at least get a stronger consideration than what she got from The Rooks concerning The Blessings. As for The Blessings...she wasn't sure exactly how she was going to proceed. Her options were limited, and very few. Obtaining actual proof of their movements was going to be extremely difficult, if not impossible to gain organically, which means she was going to have to 'procure' this evidence herself. She had an idea of how to go about it, but getting a group to actually pull off what she had in mind was gonna be a tough sell. Granted, she did have the remainder of her armory for payment, so even if the group she was after didn't particularly 'believe' her story about the incoming invasion, no one was going to say no to getting what could essentially be described as 'free' guns, traded for work and tasks rather than a monetary value. Honestly she had hoped to keep most of her armory intact for Plan 'C', but the straws she was going to be grasping at were ones she couldn't ignore and had to more or less take a chance on to grasp lest they slip away and have certain opportunistic doors shut in her face forever. With only half of her time left until the invasion, and almost no traction or progress forward to speak of...these opportunities had to be taken, there was no other choice. Plan C was what she had needed Cobalt for, one that would see them circumventing the entirety of the city if they could. It was also complete fucking suicide. An Agent would've been more-or-less semi useful for what she had in mind, two pools of general resources for one goal...but an Enforcer? That was an opportunity she couldn't ignore. An Enforcer would have a lot more of a chance to find what she needed, able to move a little more quietly without too many alarms going off. At least, that's what she was hoping for. The plan? Find The Blessings' hive. Their base of operations and staging ground, the launch point for the Invasion. Sure the sleepers and Agents amongst the populace would be the main issue they'd have to deal with should the worst happen, but everyone lays their head somewhere. Warehouses, logistical centers, stockpiles, the works. It would be a gold mine of everything the Government could use to take them down and them some. Unfortunately...they'd never find it. Exposing a hive only meant that you knew where The Blessings were operating out of...and could do almost nothing about. The agents within the Government would tip off that their hive was discovered, and in a single hour they'd dump their data caches and cut their losses, detonating the entire complex from within, incinerating everything and all evidence. This is what made it 'suicide'. If Cobalt managed to locate the hive, they'd have to assault it alone. Infiltrating was gonna be easy, but getting farther than the initial entrance was going to be impossible, and at that point...even she wouldn't have enough ammo to survive long. It was an option at best...even if she couldn't stop them, she could cripple them enough maybe, stall their invasion long enough for someone else to follow in her stead, do what she couldn't and expose The Blessings for who and what they were. Cobalt warned her however, that finding the hive before the 30th was going to be pretty difficult, if not nearly impossible. Finding their business front would be possible, like the office tower in Vice City, but the hive itself, where the Command Caste and Matriarch would be? Tough sell indeed. Still, he'd give it his best effort. Not like he had any choice in the matter anyway. Sure she put up a compelling argument...with the soft, idle threat and access to a private off-shore she had to better fortify his position in Japan, but her tracking her down...it wouldn't be too much of a stretch for her to 'accidently out him' to The Blessings if he refused to help. Damn Agents...conniving, psych-fucked little shits. She spotted them, the two she was after in the crowds. She had lifted their contacts from some trusted sources, trading a favor or two in exchange for where they'd be today. The group? 'Shenzen Dragons'. They were still more on the 'newer' side of things, but had obtained a pretty decent reputation for being reliable. Again, while she wasn't quite sure that they'd 'believe' her about The Blessings, the payment they'd get for their involvement ought to be enticing enough. "George and Jonas Xing?" She asked, approaching them from the side. They turned to look at her, confused. They weren't sure what to make of her, some random stranger in a fox mask rolling up to them and name dropping them off-rip. Curious though, they answered and confirmed their identities. She motioned towards the main street that ran down the western side of the lake. The introductions went smoothly enough, pulling off her fox mask and introducing herself. They were curious as to how she actually knew them, but Red wasn't one to dilly-dally on the deets. "Do you believe in God?" She had asked them, a really odd question to which they weren't sure how to answer at first. She expressed that the answer was important however, so they more or less went along with it. "Religious" is what they answered with, to which Red gave them the general nod. "Good," she muttered, looking back towards the party in the distance, all those clueless, complacent souls dancing about while their world was on the brink of ending. "Then maybe what I'm about to tell you won't be so hard to believe..." She laid it out then, all of it. The extent of what was going on, the nature of The Blessing Threat that was slowly building like a dark cloud over San Andreas. She told them about The Blessings, who they were, what they wanted, and what was coming in full detail. There was a mixed set of emotions among the two of them, and numerous shared looks. Was she crazy? Infiltrators? End of Los Santos? Cold War era terrorists? It was a breaking dam of information, Red knew...but there was no other way to ease into a conversation like this. They'd have to just listen, and take it or leave it as a truth or psycho ramblings beyond that. Remarkably though...she got the nod. "What do we need to do?" they asked, to which Red had to reign in the tears that were threatening to form at the bottom of her eyes, turning to cough roughly to the side to cover up her rising emotions and to get her composure. They actually...BELIEVED her. It was a moment of relief, that finally someone was actually listening, who cared about how this was going to play out in the long term instead of being stuck in the narrow-minded view of the short term. "A feint," she described "A sort of...acting job. If you agree to help here, you'll get the deets forwarded to you after we get the prep work done. It'll be a few days at best." She put a hand up as they made to ask additional questions, but she quickly interjected. "Payment will be discussed, and will be delivered in a quantity up front, but again...best not to talk more about it here. You'll be forwarded the information and coordinates of where to collect them." It was a confusing move, to be sure, the level of complication she was making it out to all be as far as handling business, but she assured them for their safety, the more convoluted she made it the better protected they'd be if shit went south and the LSPD came storming in. It was a fair point, and they all soon parted ways. Days later, George and Jonas received the coordinates of Red's drop, the information and fronted gear they were promised. Obtaining it, they found a retro-style cassette with player, clothing, bull masks, a shotgun and a myriad of handguns. The fact that Red had made good on the up front payment was good enough credibility on her end...but what she was fully aiming to accomplish through all of this was confusing to say the least. Still, as Red predicted...payment was payment was payment. There was no denying a reward for a simple job, especially when it came to hardware. With gear in tow, instructions provided, and half their payment received, all that was left to do was get Red what she needed, and off to work they went.
  10. December 25th, 2021 6:45:35 P.M. 246 Days, 5 hours, 14 minutes, 25 seconds remaining. J a p a n The air. Cold. The wind. Icy. The spirits. Warm. The festival was in full swing. Lights and smiles and the beautiful sweet smell of hot treats still sensible over the frosty chill of the air. Where most noses would be sniffling, many were inhaling said delicious cuisine as passersby moved from stall to stall to get a taste for themselves. Sparklers, laughter, shouts of "KAMPAI!!!!" with the clinking of glasses and cans in celebration of Christmas and the coming of the new year. Yes, the warm embrace of the new year, eagerly awaited by generations young and old. What could it bring? The prospect of new adventures and another chance to make new strides, new goals, new achievements and milestones? Maybe new love, new promotions, hell maybe even a new car or a house? For many, the approaching new year meant a fresh take, a new outlook. Promises of a new start, and new beginnings. But for one....the new year meant only one thing: ...a countdown. A wild wave of raven-black hair, bouncing about upon the head of a little girl dashing down the sidewalk was seen briefly by those who walked too and fro, bundled tightly in their jackets and winter hats. Of course more noticeable was the sparkler she had in her hand, crackling with life as she squealed in delight, racing down the sidewalk to hurry back to her parents waiting just down the way. She dodged through the crowds, drawing some gasps and grumbles as her sparkler neared too close to them for comfort. She weaved left, jumped right, and dashed forward...straight into the backside of someone standing in the way. The girl gasped, falling back as her sparkler hit the floor, still crackling on the sidewalk. Looking up, her eyes locked upon silver irises flicking to look down at hers. A woman with hair the color of the moon was turning to look at her, her skin nearly the same pale color. She was bundled tight in a thick, blue overcoat with a fur collar and a hood pulled up over head and a particularly large backpack on her back. She certainly didn't look like one of the common folk, an Outlander to be sure. Maybe American, or European? Looking close, the girl could've sworn her eyes even had this sort of strange, un-earthly glow to them. The woman blinked in startled confusion for a moment, before her pained-eyes softened and a small smile stretched across her lips. She turned fully around, slowly kneeling down to which the girl took an apprehensive lean back, worried that she might be scolded for not watching where she was going. Instead, the woman gently picked up the sparkler and held it out to the side, staring at it for a moment before her eyes flicked back to the girl. Much to the little girl's surprise, the Outlander asked her gently in perfect Japanese "Are you ok? You dropped this little one." The girl stared at her, an awe-struck expression on her face. It took a moment to collect herself before she gave her a nod and gently reached out and took the sparkler from her. "Careful now," The woman continued, gently helping her to her feet "Your mama and papa will be waiting for you to come back with your awesome sparkler!" The little girl brushed herself off with a free hand, bowing deeply to the woman with a semi-red-faced apology and quickly scooted around her, taking a few chance glances back to her as she started to dash back off once again. The woman watched her go, a tiny sigh pushing through her nostrils. That little girl looked to be about the age she was when the Enforcers started to come around their home and family, accompanying the woman in the black suit. Had she of known for what and why...she would've killed them right there and then. Of course, a tiny little girl against two titanically large Enforcers was...not good odds, at least she would go down in defiance of what they were planning to do. But, all things aside, at least she could make a difference now. Red walked amongst the people, a pale ghost. Her head down and her strides casual but with a determined pace. It had taken months...but she was finally closing in on her target. Agent Cobalt, another ghost from her past, was here amongst the festival somewhere. It had taken some careful digging, coaxing, and baiting...but eventually she had gotten enough leeway to get him into the open. Now it was just a matter of time before she got the information she needed. Agents knew quite a bit about the infrastructure of The Blessings, WAY more than they were supposed to. When you give an individual the means and training to be able to get easily into and out of areas they shouldn't be in...did they not consider that said Agents wouldn't use such skills against their captors? Red learned a great myriad of things about some of the inner workings of The Blessings, but all detailed and displayed in non-sensical, code-worded speech patterns. Deciphering it was a nightmare, and even then the most she could ever work out pertained only to her own personal files and research in the case of her 'Re-Cognition Therapy'. But Cobalt? Cobalt was slated as a few ranks above her. He'd have more access, more details...probably a cipher or two for The Blessing's codes. Even then, the chances of Cobalt's knowledge being anything she could use for the threat in Los Santos was low...it was the only lead she had, so she had to take a chance. And if it lead nowhere? Well....he was an Agent. An Agent was dangerous....and a loose end. If he was still turned or his cognition deteriorated to 'Non-Recoverable' like hers did...chances are he'd need to be put down. Her path took her down the far side of the square, away from the loud voices and merry laughter to a more empty lot. A passerby or two every little now and again, but the area she approached was relatively abandoned. She passed into an alleyway, heading for the next street over, taking a left at the sidewalk and looking up at her destination. A large, multi-story building in the midst of construction with plastic sheets covering the outside in addition to various piles of debris, building supplies, and dirt scattered about. Tracking an agent was particularly the easiest...and once you did, you only had a narrow window to close in before they slipped out through your fingers. She had been following Cobalt for awhile now, and found this to be one of several stops he'd make for 'supplies'. Most tended to stay off the grid entirely, not even taking the risk to expose their face in public. You could never tell who a Blessing really was...neighbor? Co-worker? Lover? Sister? Husband? Hell, Grandma? There was no telling, and any risk was an extreme risk. That being said, the only safe way for an Agent to move was completely underground. Drops, tells, codes, anything to stay out of the light and cloak yourself in as much darkness as you could. Unfortunately for Cobalt, Red had a very good understanding on the fundamentals of hunting another human being, especially one who was a Blessing. She entered the abandoned building carefully and quietly through a side window, her pace extremely slow and her posture slightly crouched. With any luck, she'd be the one to make the first move. Knowing better however, she knew that Cobalt was already aware of her presence, it being his own turf. The only thing she could do now was try to not get neck snapped out of some dark corner, and give herself enough room to retaliate. Room to room she went, slinking carefully along, her eyes slow to move and thorough in their scanning. For many, the hairs on the backs of their necks would rise, the snake in the dark coiling to strike. You know it's there, but you're not sure where. Human beings rely on their sight and light to bring their enemies into view, because an enemy visible is an enemy killable. The unknown has been, and always will be the one enemy a human being cannot kill. What you cannot see is terrifying, and that fills a combatant with fear. You don't know what it is, where it is, or when it will come at you. But it's coming. It's there. That alone would make someone panic, lose their nerve, maybe even run. But not Red. Red had been on both sides. The hunter, -and- the hunted. She knew the signs, knew the moments...but even the most experienced can't account for all the possibilities. Red let out a shout as the wall to her left exploded in a cloud of dust and drywall, a firm grip around her neck squeezing and choking a wheezing gasp of surprise from her form. She felt her legs come out from under her, her body crashing through the wall and in a single moment she felt herself flying through unknown space. She crashed into the ground, sliding a good couple of feet before her back hit the far wall. She coughed hoarsely, the taste of plaster and the dust that clung to it coating her throat. Looking up, she shook her head of the ringing in her ears and beheld her attacker, her eyes widening and irises shrinking as a feeling of terror starting to worm it's way up her spine and up through her stomach. "Oh my fucking Christ you're an ENFORC- ACK!" Red started to scream as the thundering steps of a bull-masked individual stamped towards her, his hand finding her neck again and hurling her across the room. She crashed through a table saw and a couple of plastic buckets, her pained yelp echoing off the walls. She took only a brief moment to collect herself before she scrambled to her feet, taking several rapid steps back and putting her hands up in front of her defensively, watching the hulking beast lumbering towards her. An Enforcer. An Agent-Killer, an Agent Retriever. Guards of the Matriarch Caste and each a Warlord in their own right. The beasts that Agent's were cognitively trained to be unable to kill or fight. To them, Enforcers meant death. Often she had heard stories of Agents shooting Enforcers, watching blood spray from their forms but to no avail...the beasts would advance still. She had thought that she had entered the realm of fantasy and magic, hearing the stories told of these monstrous things. A couple of security recordings however, showed her the truth. Agents firing at Enforcers...but hitting the ceilings, the floors, walls around them. A byproduct of the torture, of the hallucenogenics, years of layering the psyche to sell the story that an Enforcer was truly immortal. They thought they were shooting on target...but their minds, twisted and tormented, -lied- to them. Just another layer to the total pillar of The Blessings' insanity. You'd think it impossible...but tell the same story to a frightened, broken, panicked child enough times after you've pumped their brains full of some backwards nightmare mixture of LSD, and they will believe it. Hell you could probably even convince them that the sky was purple. "WAIT!" Red cried out, holding up her hands as she retreated backwards "I'm not an enemy!" "That is very cute." The Enforcer droned, hurling a punch forward to which Red dodged, his fist crashing through the drywall. He ripped it out, turning to look at her astonished face as it retreated further back. "You can TALK!?" Red shrieked, pouncing back into the dark and out of sight. "As can you, apparently," The Enforcer grunted, his voice deep and rumbling through the confides of his mask as he stomped towards the direction she retreated in "More concerning...an Agent without her face." There was a rapid set of footfalls to his front, his advance halted as her voice cried out from the darkness until she suddenly came into view. "Oh you mean THIS FACE!?" A fox mask entered his vision, the woman in mid-air with a 2x4 clutched in her hands, swinging in a wide arc across her right. He ducked and sidestepped rapidly past her, sliding his foot back as she flew past him, the woman landing with a quick step and turn of a heel, the foes facing each other and crouching at the ready. "There she is...." The Enforcer rumbled, adjusting his posture and stance in preparation for a mighty slug fest. They started to stalk each other in a slow circle, Red changing the angle and hand of the board in her hands, the Enforcer cracking his knuckles in his balled fists. The difficulty now was re-engagement. Long fights in close quarters weren't either of their specialty. Element of surprise, efficiency, and scoring a kill to move on and score more in rapid succession were their ways. Both were designed to end a fight in two minutes, one to overpower and pummel their enemy into fleshy paste, the other to spring, strike, and that be the end of it. They both knew this, which is why neither advanced. They knew whoever moved first, they would be the one to die. A vicious stalemate. Red knew this, and despite wanting to kill this filthy, murderous creature for him being what he was...she had to remember why she was there in the first place. "You're Cobalt." She breathed, her pace slow and gentle, her eyes locked upon his behind the visage of her fox. "And you're dead meat," The Enforcer snarled, flexing his arms in preparation to tear her in half. "I thought you fucking idiots would've given up by now...but I see that your persistence is ever unwavering. If you thought I was going to get comfortable, get soft at the idea that I've forgotten about The Blessings and moved on, then you're more stupid than I thought." "I'm not a Blessing, and you know that." Red countered, shifting her weight and leg to which Cobalt mirrored in a counter. God she hated Enforcers. "And you want to know how I know that?" She chided, drawing a snide chuckle out of Cobalt. "And how's that, little fox?" His eyes followed her feet carefully. If she mis-stepped just a 'little' too much over, he'd be able to shove her off balance into an angle out of her range of motion. He'd have her. If only she'd- "I can speak, I can see you, I can attack you, you can see I'm not still Indoctrinated, and most importantly..." She paused for a moment, letting the weight of her words sink in before she delivered what she hoped was the killer point. "I'm not one of the Legionäre". This, did give him pause. For a brief moment he stopped, a move he'd know could be his death, but Red didn't act on it, a gesture she'd hope he gauge and be open-minded to. For her to be able to utter such a word though...it was impossible. Agents could barely even hold themselves together when it came to the mere mention of the word that described the highest level of the Enforcer Caste, the ones who guarded Their Benefactor. They were Enforcers sent to kill Enforcers, the most elite of The Blessing's broad armory. Having one of these sent after you...the reasons were few, but their weight could be cosmically felt by all within the Agency. It irritated him that such an explanation made so much sense. Sending an Agent after an Enforcer? Inconceivable. Agents ran -away- from them, not -towards- them. Though he didn't drop his guard, he did straighten up only slightly to growl "I'm listening...if only just." Red hadn't dropped her guard either, standing poised and at the ready, though she knew she'd have to be the one to invite him to the table for talks. This unfortunately, would tank her chances of survival should it turn sour but...there was really no other way out other than the lost of limbs at this point. "Good...because I didn't cross oceans just to chase dead leads," She grumbled, drawing a snort out of Cobalt as they stared at one another for a long, tense moment. Finally, Red slowly straightened up, the grip on her board softening as she opened her defense up and breathed quietly: "I need your help."
  11. Keeping suggestion open for Boat interiors but, hey guys we got the boat dock! HUZZAH!
  12. With the new implementation of Burgershot and such, This could totally be possible!!!!
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