Wolokai142

Cliff Derringer 16,750,000

Cliff Derringer $12,500,000

Cliff Derringer $11,500,000

Cliff Derringer $10,500,000

Cliff Derringer 7,500,000

Cliff Derringer Raise 500k 4.5mil standing

Simply put, to avoid the 10+ tazers it takes to put down these tanking bezerkers, apply the knockout script to tazers with some balancing parameters. Its extremely disheartening to be demanded to play realistically and fairly by individuals who are tazed over and over and over, who then get up and laugh in their radio and continue running. I dont know who's getting up after a total of 12,000 volts distributed amongst tazer shots and running around but the fact that there is only 2 shots max has encouraged taken advantage of this limitation by a considerable margin. The fix? Have a calculation of how many tazer rounds are received by a player in a certain window and apply the knockout script if it crosses this threshold. There is currently no consequence or advantage that tazers currently bring other than to have more LEOs get close to the suspect to then have to use their own tazers to no effect what-so-ever. The balance? Drug use. Have drugs grant knockout resistance in some capacity like meth and steroids.

WARNING: Reading material may be unsettling to some readers. "......I don't really like to talk about this." "But....I suppose it's only fair that you two understand why what happened that night...happened, before I'm gone one day." "There's not going to be any good reason as to 'why' because...well people are people, and evil is evil. If it helps bring you closure though...then ok." It was December 2nd, 1993, I was 20 at the time. I was engaged to your mother, Annabelle at that point but...with the rough business in Colombia, we decided to wait until the upset involving Pablo Escobar was done before we put down roots and decided on having you two. I was there when they got him you know, Pablo. Man had escaped from his own personal built prison and was on the run before Search Bloc finally got him. It was a pretty exciting way to start my career as a Texas Ranger, getting to see the end of the Medellín Cartel. I didn't get to see much of the action as I joined up in the tail end of the whole ordeal and was mostly there to collect paperwork and evidence that tied the Cartel back to several leads back in Texas concerning the drug trade that was cropping up. I suppose getting to be a part of history was pretty neat but...in my naivety I did not realize the dire, far reaching consequences that were about to blow up in everyone's faces as a result of Escobar's death. Pablo's empire crumbling created a power vacuum with the power of a black hole, and everyone was rushing in to get a piece of the pie like some mad, psychotic gold rush. Connections, leftover drugs, guns, the whole kit-and-kaboodle. Call it a sour turn of bad luck I guess, because one of these dirtbags managed to get ahold of some significant piece of infrastructure that opened the door into Texas for him. Warehouses, a good deal of them, deep in the heart of Texas that carried all kinds of heavy shit. Weapons, kilos of coke, the works. It was the perfect foundation to launch a new business avenue in the illegal underworld and spread roots quick and spread em' deep. The dirtbag? Bastard by the name of Marino Martinez. The Martinez Cartel would become the core focus of my work in the Garland Texas Rangers, a twenty year slog that piled a lot of good deputies into thin pine boxes and left a lot of kids strung out on fucked up product. Caused quite a massive gash in the skin of our state that was bleeding out our innocence and pouring opioid in the wounds. Annabelle was a trooper about it though. Any moment I could've caught a bullet from an ambush in the streets...every waking breath precious in a constant bid for survival. You two had already been born before we had lived back in Texas for a year after Colombia, so it meant laying as low as possible for the entirety of the time I was working. We couldn't just up and run like we used to because of how young ya'll were, so we had to take extra precautions to make sure our family was safe. Now...for eleven years I worked and worked and worked...sometimes with more scars, sometimes falling asleep at the kitchen table with reheated dinner only half-eaten on the plate before me from how exhausted I was. For a 28 year old, I sure felt ancient with the ache in my bones. It was worth it though. Slowly but surely, inch by inch...we were gaining ground. Arrests, investigations, stockpiles and assets seized. We chipped at them where we could, and the complacency of the nature of the hits was doing them in. A small pile of guns here and there wasn't too bad...but eleven years of small piles adding up and...well, that's one big fucking haul isn't it? We were gaining more and more traction by the day...until a late autumn morning in the November of 2002. I had begged...BEGGED, the Sheriff to stay his hand. We had uncovered potentially a major deal preparing to go down at a festival dinner between Marino Martinez and several of his higher-end business partners. Our C.I. indicated that the talks were likely to include plans on opening up an entirely new front across the border into Nevada, to inch their way towards Vegas. At least 3 of these executives in attendance were all from linked cases across the entire SIB department, and for all of them to be meeting in the exact same place with Marino himself? It was, a MASSIVE situation. This op had the potential to completely be the Achilles heel to the entire Martinez Cartel if done properly...but an utter disaster if handled poorly. And that, is what I begged and pleaded to the Sheriff. Don't, send in Special Enforcement. If SED breached the exterior on a raid bust, the amount of heat that'd it would generate would be way too big to contain. There was a significant amount of muscle packed into that place, way more than I knew the C.I. or the projections predicted. If a firefight broke out, the amount of casualties itself was bound to be horrendous, but the potential leads, witnesses, and other critical evidence tucked away in there would be killed, burned, and lost. The Shock-And-Awe hard stop wasn't going to work, because I bet you my entire career five times over the second any Operator hit that threshold, they were gonna be burning files in trash cans 3 stories up in the mansion. But I knew it was futile the moment I got called into the Sheriff's office, and the CO of SED was there waiting for me. "Captain Derringer," I remember he told me...in that tone I oh-so fucking hated. I knew the Sheriff had my side in this but the Mayor of Garland wasn't having it anymore. He saw an opportunity to put this shit to rest in one fell swoop and he wasn't going to let such an opportunity pass us by. I had to swallow my anger and the bile as the CO explained the action plan for how the raid was going to go...and if I wanted any part of it, I more or less had to march in behind them like a good little dog and keep quiet. When the day of the raid came, well....it's probably no surprise as to what happened is it? A complete fucking bust. 6 Deputies and 3 operators killed, a good majority of their muscle, scores of wounded and a shit-load of civilians caught in the crossfire. We did recover some evidence which...sure would lead to some convictions. Wasn't gonna be enough to bag Marino though...and worst of all? Among the casualties was his wife, Josephina Martinez. It didn't take a genius to know how that was gonna turn out. The reason I was spared I had heard years later was because I was one of the only people trying desperately to not include the civilians in the attack...Marino offered me that mercy. Everyone else? It turned sour, and south...real fast. A good number of cops died from that bust...but once blood was paid for in blood, Marino went back to business as usual. His son however...did not share that same sentiment. Diego Martinez was an abhorrent piece of shit. A young pistol of a boy, barely twenty years of age, this fucking child had the arrogance of your typical fucking loser sucking on the silver spoon of his father. The type to say "Do you know who my dad is?" as his get-outta-jail-free card played more times than I could count. Worst part about it is...he was a raging psychopath. A complete daddy's boy with no humanity or care for the weight of a human life. Someone who could pull a trigger as easily as he plucked the wings off of butterflies without a care or thought to the world. He'd be after us for awhile, my unit specifically. Our guys were the ones who managed to pull the intel that lead to the operation that killed his mother so...naturally we were at the top of his shit list. And in the summer of 2005...fate reared it's ugly head. I was on my way home when I got the call. A shrill, panicked scream tore through my phone so loud I nearly slammed my head into my side window trying to rear away from the noise. She shrieked my name with such a force I thought she was getting mauled by some animal, the way she spat out hysterics and heaving screaming. "Deborah?!" I shouted into the phone "Deborah what's happening!? Calm down! Deborah ca- DEBORAH!" I shouted into my phone, trying to discern some manner of english amongst her shrill cries...but it was when she mentioned her husband Alex that my blood ran cold. I cut the wheel hard left, flicking on my sirens and U-ing it right there at the intersection, gunning it south with as much speed as I could. "Dispatch," I remember barking into my handheld radio, Deborah's cries still somewhat audible from my phone that I had dropped into the passenger seat. "Captain Derringer, Cliff. Start of watch under assigned designation, get me a unit and SIB team on priority code, ambulance in tow." I listed the address and was advised to wait for backup but...by the time units got there to support me it'd be too late. If it wasn't already that is. With one hand on the wheel, I drew my Colt Python and checked the cylinder, all 6 rounds of .357 grade justice ready to go. I didn't think I was gonna have time to get to my shotgun so...the revolver would have to do. I rounded the corner and to this day I wonder if I had heard her before I saw her, or vice versa. Deborah was on her knees in her front yard, covered in what I assumed was blood as I cut the wheel right and drove up onto the side walk and tore into her neighbors yard, parking it right in the middle of the yard and sliding out of my truck with my iron firm in my hand and my radio in the other. I took a careful stance and approached with caution, Deborah reaching out to me in a sobbing panic. Her eyes were wide, manic, and clearly there was no logic or sense in her eyes. She had flown the coop, a broken mess of a woman soaked in what I...really, really hoped wasn't Alex's blood but... I called into my radio softly that I was making entry and clipped the radio to my belt, making my entry into the partially open front door and into the house. "TEXAS RANGER!!!" I roared into the house, sweeping wide to the left with my iron at a ready angle. I moved slowly, carefully, Deborah's cries from outside muffled through the walls as the sounds of a shower running further in reached my ears about the same time the smell did. "Oh no..." I remember breathing, relaxing my arms as I moved towards the bathroom. When I opened the door, I felt my chest tighten and a firm weight pressing on my lungs. David Martinez had this thing about brutalizing folks but...this one was a whole new level of low. Alex's cold, pale face stared forward, mouth agape and eyes vacant and glazed. I slowly holstered my pistol, pulling my Stetson off the top of my head and sighing. Cutting his head off...pretty standard as far as the Cartel was concerned. Mounting his head over the shower head to have it rain on his unsuspecting wife? Yeah...I'm not usually a guy to get squeamish but...that one really got me. They had carted Deborah off about five minutes after my backup arrived, the crime scene tape and the CSI's having gone in and started their sweeps. I answered all the questions, brought the SIB on scene up to speed on Alex's involvement in the David Martinez case, and was now quietly walking the house as the investigators canvased the bathroom. I meandered into the kitchen, passing around near the counter and running a hand through my hair. Alex was a good guy...had a few beers with him, our wives were friends, and he was an overall jokester. I always felt a pang in my heart when a deputy lost their life in this business but when it came to guys like Alex...the loss was all that much worse. I shot a glance slightly to my left as I headed towards their kitchen table but stopped cold. I slowly backed up, looking over the counter at this slightly scrunched up, wrinkled magazine for gardening laying their on the wooden surface. The gals would often talk about their gardening strides over some lemonade while we held a BBQ a few Sundays here and there. To the point where Annabelle offered Deborah one of her magazines to borrow with an article on tomatoes she thought she'd be interested in. A magazine with our address on it. I tore out of the house faster than lightning and ran over a mailbox tearing out of the yard with my truck. The distance to the house was only a 10 minute or so drive, but it was the longest drive of my life. I saw the smoke before I saw the house, my heart hammering as I turned the corner into the driveway up towards the house. Flames billowed out of the upper floor's window, black smoke churning into the sky as I got out of my truck and bolted up the laneway. "ANNABELLE!" I cried, rushing up to the front door. As I neared it, a tiny set of voices cried out to my left from the hedge line, and turning my head that's where you two were...hiding in the bushes just as we taught you to do when trouble came. I rushed to the both of you, smoke-streaked and red-faced but alive. You managed through your sobs to get through to me that your mother was still inside, so with a quick , barking order to stay in the bushes and wait for me, I quickly bolted towards the door. I tried the handle and felt the wooden surface, feeling no heat as I took a step back then and hurled a boot forward, slamming the door open. Smoke billowed out, searing my eyes and throat as I rushed inside, coughing loudly. Fire licked at the walls and a good chunk of the floor, the living room completely lost as the ceiling had collapsed in over it. I took a few steps through, passing the forward staircase when I saw her. She was buried under a pile of wood that had fallen from the collapsing ceiling, a free arm reaching towards me. I dove to her side, trying to get the beam up off of her and straining as she weakly batted my thigh and wheezed "Cliff...!" prompting me to stop. "Girls...upst-stairs...!" a loud cough choking out of her lungs. "No, no they're outside! They made it outside into the hedge!" I looked over the wood covering her trying to pull any piece I could off, trying to do 'something' when I felt her hand gently reach out to take mine. "Clifford..." she breathed, her lips curling into a gentle smile as she mustered as much strength as she could to squeeze my hand. "No, Anna!" I growled, pulling a heavy board off of the top of her "There's not much to get off you, just give me a second! Gotta find something to use for levera-" but my words died in my throat. She knew, before I even made it into the house...that's why she wanted me to get you two girls first. I managed to get the crisped plywood that was covering her midsection off of her when I saw it. She was punctured in numerous places, run through with various pieces of wood that she had either fallen on or fell on her...having fallen through the floor from the fire. Even if I did manage to get her dislodged...moving her would've killed her. With the amount of blood she had lost already and the fire encroaching quickly... "Anna..." I wheezed, the smoke burning my throat as I shook my head slowly. It was the first time she'd ever seen me cry, my tears flowing freely as she weakly made to put a hand on my cheek to which I held to my skin tightly. "N-no more..." she said weakly, the orange starting to circle its away around us as she tried to drag her fingers across my cheek to pull me closer, her eyes slowly closing. She didn't waste any more words on telling me what was already known...that she loved me, loved you...that she would always be with us and to take care of you two. No, in her final moments she used the last of her strength to give me one final order, one last request. "Avenge...us...." I watched as God took her into his arms, lifting her away from the misery and leaving me to turn and desperately crawl for safety, the fire spilling over the floor down and threatening to swallow me whole if I didn't move my ass. From there I wish I could've given you more detail but...to be honest even I'm not sure myself of what happened in the hours following that moment. I don't remember collecting you two and driving you down to The Sheriff's Station, or grabbing several maps and pieces of recon work we had over Marino Martinez's safehouse just west of Garland, nor do I remember completely ignoring every single person at the station, ignored all the questions and the looks and just...everything. Because then I did something that I never thought I'd ever do in that moment. Something that went against my every principle. You remember your grandfather, the stories I told you about him. Principle was everything, it was THE lesson he had instilled upon me that I followed to that day. "Without principle Cliff," he'd tell me "There's nothing to separate us from the animals. Morals and the soul are all that divide us from the animal kingdom." But those teachings did not reach me that day. It couldn't stop me, probably wouldn't have stopped anyone else either...which is why I did what I did. The one regret I've ever had in my life. ...I went rogue. Though by technicality I was now operating outside the "Morally questionable" grounds of the system, I doubt there was anyone who was going to hold issue with what I was about to do. Cards on the table, someone needed to do something, and now... Vengeance for those lost, initiative to prevent more from joining Alex and my wife. It had to be done. Marino Martinez was holed up with his son and several of his affiliates downtown, in a cul-de-sac at the back end on the south side. One way into the housing area, and one way back. In using the maps I pulled already from the evidence board, getting to the neighborhood wasn't all that hard. But getting out alive was going to be different. Interestingly enough...Marino was there to greet me as I approached from down the street, my face and clothes caked with soot and ash, and no sign of his son. But of course...there was still plenty of his security about. In hindsight...I shouldn't have done as I did that day. My focus should have been on you two, in keeping level headed and not go running off to risk turning you two into orphans. But this logic didn't work for me , as it wouldn't for anyone...and as I stepped out onto the ground from my truck, did the reality of sentiment only then hit me. But through either a cruel twist of fate or maybe even God himself...Marino showed me mercy once again. He had heard from his son what he had done that day, and seeing as how I tried to prevent (although indirectly) the death of his own wife...mine was taken from me on purpose by Diego. A debt was incurred then, on the day his own wife died. As I tried to do for Marino...he would try to do for me, And it was Diego himself who would appear behind his father, myself peering around him to behold my quarry. A glock was tucked into his front waistband as he walked about behind his father, sneering as he said "What's wrong Ranger man? Come to arrest me!??! Go ahead and try man, you don't go NO warrants on me bro!" "No Diego..." I said, shaking my head "This ain't about warrants or principle now....this is about you coming with me quietly, to face the consequences of you actions. That being said, you can go two ways...Dead, or Alive." In looking towards his father, Marino turned away from his son, heading towards the side of the street on the far side as if to observe. "Father...!" He called out "Why don't we just kill this clown and be rid of him??" "Because..." Marino countered with a soft growl "The Ranger is right...actions have consequences...and it's clear to me that someone needs to finally learn that distinction...you've gone too far for too long, and that is quite a saying coming from me. No more. You've dug your own grave...only you can take responsibility for it and lay within it." It was then that Diego slowly looked at me, the weight of what was happening finally sinking in. His father would not protect him because like me, he was a widow too...and the principle of that alone Marino knew if he killed one of us, he'd have to kill a significant amount more to cover it up. So naturally...for Marino at least, this was the only way. There was only about 40 feet between us when Diego snorted loudly, spiting a glob of saliva out onto the ground and inching his hand up to draw his weapon. But when the time did finally come...well, Diego's gun hadn't come free of the cloth before the first bullet echoed out of my revolver and straight through his shoulder. He stumbled, once...twice, but after he tried to swing his other arm forward to get his pistol from the opposite side of his own, the other 5 in my chambers would make short work of him. I fanned the hammer of my weapon with the side of my palm so hard my skin tore, oiling the chrome of my pistol and splashing flecks of blood across the dirt and my clothes at random. But by the time his body hit the ground, I was already quietly getting back into my truck and drive away. No more words needed to be exchanged between myself and Marino...his own time would come. The Sheriff didn't ask me anything of the specifics some few months later after the incident, after seeing and visiting Annabelle's grave. No...there'd be plenty of time to get back at the Martinez Cartel in the years to follow...the following 8 to be exact. With a dead wife and son however, it wouldn't be too long before Marino would follow in his son's footsteps and join him in the grave. And that...is exactly what happened in June of 2013. I was eating dinner with you two girls when I got the call that Marino had been killed in a Special Enforcement raid to secure his property and several key assets. At long last, after 20 years...the nightmare was over. I announced my retirement then, for July of 2013. By then you two were twenty years old each and prepping for college, watching you guys work through your applications and studying, and for the next 7 years I got to watch you two graduate, get married, and bring my grandchildren into the world. I had grown accustomed to the quiet life I suppose, but my hands always felt so idle, so empty. I filled my empty hands and empty gaps of time with model airplane building and such, but still I felt the urge to do more. Perhaps it was a blessing then...that you Cassidy, seeing how bored I was with all my hand wringing, handed me that flier and notice for the Los Santos County Sherriff's Department. You were tired of watching me waste away in the garage, knowing full well that if your mother was here to see me in this current state...she'd have my ass. So...what the hell, right? In summer of 2020 I booked a one way flight to San Andreas and in June I was accepted into the academy by Tyrone Balakay and became a Deputy Sheriff Trainee. And the rest...they say is history, right? ~~~ "So go ahead, put in all your little IA's. Sit there and act stupid and surprised." "Give me every excuse you have. 'Oh, I'm a criminal, I've killed plenty of your deputies, orphaned children, widowed spouses, tore sons and daughters from their parents. but I have rights!'" "You want to continue and live playing and acting out this stupid fucking charade that somehow you're fucking innocent and you deserve kindness and respect and courtesy." "Well fuck you." "Fuck you, and everyone like you. You and all your stupid little friends." "Because of people like you, I've had mothers and fathers scream at me because I could give no good reason as to why their children aren't coming home because you decided to kill them over a speeding ticket." "You tore Vespucci Canal to pieces, and sent 40 people to their deaths over something as stupid as a piece of leather." "Because of people like you, my wife is dead." "And hilariously, for all the shitty, fucked up things you people do, you cry and whine and bitch like I'M the one with the attitude problem, like my anger is unwarranted." "You better brace yourself then, because to this point I've been lenient to you." "No more." "No longer." "Prepare yourself, because It's about time you people learn the most fundamentally important lesson a human being can learn:" "Actions have consequences."

JULY | 23rd | 2023 The Same Night "So, Miss Moraine!" he began, recrossing his legs to the other side. "We've not seen or heard from one another in nearly a year! How have you been? Doing alright for yourself?" Rhea blinked, still massaging her throat and looking towards him as if he had grown a second head. "Are you fucking kidding me?" She hissed softly, drawing a confused glance out of the man beside her and a slow turn of the head by one of the agents in the passenger seats ahead. "I begged you, for a year, to hear me out about The Blessings. I pleaded, I cried, and my thanks was having to watch your power plant get blown sky high and to get chained to a desk for 36 hours to be interrogated by every detective and investigator on the payrolls." She turned towards him a bit more, her fists clenching "After which when I was finally released, given no amenities or compensation, I was shot near to death by Blessing Agents and have spent the last year or so in a critical state. And in that time, who knows how much of a catastrophe the Blessings have been brewing under your fucking nose without me here to keep an eye out for it." He tightened his lips, that sheepish 'not my fault/take no responsibility' expression starting to form on his face. She hated that fucking look. "Well....I mean, you have to understand you 'were' the only one with any decent knowledge of what was happening. You were the only prime suspect in this whole-" "I pissed myself." Rhea growled. "...Yes, well-" "Four times." "Look I'm sorry about all that," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose "But, from where I'm sitting Miss Moraine we didn't have much of a cho- wait, you were shot?" "Twice," Rhea sighed. She was prepared as always with her cover story if he pressed. She wouldn't mention the hive or the Colonel...mostly that this chapter of the war had concluded, the hive was surely finished off and destroyed by whatever Blessing crew was sent to clean up her attack. She wouldn't mention anything about the year really...her recovery, her exposure to MKU-III, her benefactor's offer. For all she knew, coming up on a full year since she destroyed Palmer Taylor there was no telling the extent of the Blessings' infestation now. Anyone could be one of them...even his agents, even him. She'd have to play her cards close to her chest. "Well...you're alive now, so that's good!" he offered, flashing that irritating optimism she despised "And good thing for it, I was honestly really concerned when we couldn't get ahold of you. Been trying for a good few months now." To this, Rhea squinted her eyes in a suspicious gaze, turning her head slightly away while zeroing in on him with a glare. "...You've been looking for me...why?" Did he find out...? No, couldn't have. Unless Lola or her conspirators opened their mouths but even then...there was no evidence, no proof. She left no trails for anyone to follow and anything word of mouth was purely hearsay. Though...not that would've stopped anyone. The law was a tricky, fickle thing. Worked when you needed it to...ignored when it was convenient. "Well...it's a somewhat complicated thing," he began, uncrossing his legs to sit up "And entirely awkward...given who you are and the uh...'relationship' between you and us." Rhea kept her skeptical gaze while he ruffled his own hair for a few short strokes, sighing "I'll get straight to the point...we need your help. Your info and warning about Palmer Taylor, as wildly skeptical as we were about the whole ordeal...turned out to be true." Rhea tilted her head, looking towards the front of the car. If they were going to City Hall...they had wildly either circled or were going 'away' from it. "Since then, though we're not taking what you'd like to call a 'paranoid' approach, we do try to get ahead of several developments that look like they could lead to more serious problems..." Rhea scoffed softly, turning her gaze back to him "Tried to tell you," she breathed "Living with a certain amount of caution is healthy." He waved her comment away with a "Yes yes...told you so's and all that." He leaned back, tapping his hands on his knees with a light sigh before looking towards her "I won't apologize for mistakes of the past...because even you know us believing in a bunch of mask wearing clowns blowing up Government buildings sounded hilariously tabloid-ish...and I'm sorry it took a precedent to be set for us to get here but...we're here now." He leaned towards her suddenly, drawing his face closer to hers and lowering his voice "Because of what you knew...and given your background, I'm thinking there's some skill and ability within you that we could use to help with situations going on now." Rhea's brow raised significantly, a look of surprise on her face. HELP them...?! He was giving her an opening?? Her, the prime suspect? She traced his visage for any sign of deceit but the more she stared the more she slowly realized...he was being serious. All of a sudden...their avoidance of their destination was becoming all too sensible. This conversation could never have happened. "You want me...to help you," Rhea said in a low voice "...why? How?" He looked towards the front of the car before looking back, lowering his voice even more "Because despite what everyone thinks of you, I think deep down you want to help our city. You wanted to help before and we laughed at you, I'm looking to make amends for that." And then he laid it out, his offer. What he needed, what she'd provide, what it would take. The more he talked the more surprised she felt...and the more paranoid. A trap. That's what this sounded like. A trap for her. Lure her in, make her a scapegoat, destroy her in the process. It was all too convenient but...oddly straight forward. Sure all the signs were there but she had never taken him for the kind of sort to pull tactics like this...tactics like hers. He had the drive, the capacity sure but...the city hadn't corrupted him morally. If there was anything she could believe it was that he did have the best intentions for his city, for his people. The fact that he was willing to come to her about this meant that maybe he was desperate...or that he was finally willing to bet on the right horse. She figured maybe this was one of those 'keep your friends close, and your enemies closer' type deal...but if he was truly willing to hear her out, maybe that meant he'd be willing to listen to her about The Blessings as well. Perhaps...a bargain -could- be made... After he finished detailing the offer, Rhea took very several, long moments to think it through. The Benefactor had already given her an offer...now the other side of the law was giving her one as well. Two major powers...each wanting her. For better or worse her potential had been realized, and now walking unseen was no longer an option. Instead of putting a spotlight on The Blessings...all lights would be on -her- now. It was a dangerous game, standing in the very middle of a clean and set chess board, another game ready to play. The stakes were much higher now...a vicious consequence waiting for her at the end depending on what moves she made and what side she made moves for. Either way was a death sentence..................... ................unless.... Her eyes widened, looking up. It clicked, just like that. A sudden realization, a thought. There was a way through. A way to win. It would be a long game, a careful...nasty game, but victory for her would be possible. She'd have to play slow, carefully, reveal herself and cloak herself all at the same time. The depths she'd have to go to and the connections and deals she'd make...the risks and the rewards. Death was almost a certainty. But then again...it always was. It was at this moment that Rhea Moraine understood at full length her purpose and principle of the past 15 years of war. It was here, at this moment, that this junction...that all her preparations, training, and efforts would come to culmination. The board was set, the players were ready, pieces ready to go. It was time, at long last, to begin. She looked up towards him, mustering the entirety of her resolve, the commitment of her full purpose to the fateful two words that would be the beginning of the beginning for many...and the beginning of the end for many more. "I accept." And with that, The Cold War of The Blessings had begun.

JULY | 23rd | 2023 11 Months+ Since the Palmer Taylor Attack Rhea panted, stumbling through the streets and clutching her head tightly. Her steps were beleaguered and her veins icy and burning with poisoned blood as she slowly made her way uptown somewhere in the Alta Area. She didn't know where she was going, but knew all too well at the same time. It took her two months to make her way back from wherever it was The Blessings were housing her. Two months of weary moving, hitchhiking, cross-country traversal. She hadn't even thought to mark where it was she had come from, knowing that The Blessings would be gone by the time she could trace her steps back anyway. Not like it mattered...this place, this nightmare-scape she had somehow once again found herself stumbling about in, lost and unsure of how to get where it was she wanted to go. Ironic for having lived there for so long but...in Hell, when every cragged ridge and foul street looked the same...getting lost in both body and spirit seemed to be par for the course. Hell had no destinations to go to, no places to venture towards or flee from. It was the same no matter where you went...the same noise, the same story. Death. Blood. Death. A circle, a tragedy of concrete sin molded by .45 ACP and thunderstorms of brass and oily, greasy red. The denizens here, imps and demons clad in human skin wandering about oblivious to the inferno that roared around them. From the cop to the criminal to the civilian, all were oblivious, all were ignorant. All complicit, all zombies. Why can't they see...? Why can't they see!? See underneath the camouflage of beautiful sunsets and club scenes, between the bars of prison cells and the mesh of the backseats of police cars? At the altar of marriage and up to the sky before the black tarp of a bodybag is zipped up over what was shoveled off the sidewalk by the sheriff's deputy. None of them could see...what SHE could see... A curse...? No. A Blessing. She stumbled onwards through a hell not of her own making, through the crowded sidewalks. Laughter, smiles, color-bangers and sleight of hands. A throbbing, diseased heart she had a hand in poisoning and only bothering to help curing until after it was far too late. Palmer Taylor was too slow...too methodical. She'd never be caught for it and never be held accountable for her crime, but the damage it did do served the purpose she had intended...but just a little too late. Perhaps Her Benefactor was right....perhaps this was inevitable. Was she really just raging against an unfathomably deep darkness? Was there really nothing that could be done except sit by and watch it happen? If this was the lesson he had intended for her...the lesson of inevitability and inaction, she had gone far beyond the point of learning it a million times over. So what was the true point then? Why fight...why keep going...? The amount of times she continued to get up, despite the futility of it all, despite all she had suffered regardless of her promises...to what end would the effort be for? To what length would her strength hold? Just...why? "Principle." She said from behind her, loud and yet far at the same time. It was like a deafening echo in her brain she could hear from miles off. She jumped, whirling about to face the sound of approaching heeled boots, the familiar seer of red linen and the orange and grey fur of a familiar, foxy visage. The face of a demon worse than all others in this brick and stone maze of a hellscape she was trapped in. "Principle," Red growled, pacing up slowly around to the side of Rhea, the visage staring forward towards their path before rounding on her heel, turning her mask towards the pained, ashen-haired woman "It's the reason. It's the 'why'. You can say or think whatever it is you want about this situation. 'I promised Rowena', 'I promised Caroline', 'I promised myself'...doesn't matter really. What matters is the principle of it all." Rhea tracked her movement carefully as Red took a step or two to the side, turning to lean onto a nearby railing and stuffing her hands in her pockets to let out an irritated sigh through her mask. "We get up not because it's the 'right' thing to do...it's the 'only' thing to do. Principle isn't about a moral compass or good or evil or right or wrong...it's cause and effect. Action and reaction. What is done has consequences...it's nature." Rhea could feel Red smirking under her mask, that hateful, sneering grin stretching wide and far beyond what should have been capable "Ironic...the thin line between us and them. Principle it is, that drives them to hunt, to eat, to live. The principle of life, of purpose that grants them reason...for no reason at all." She turned her mask to face her as Rhea shuffled her way past, following her steps as she went "It's in our nature, that's all." "Do you ever get tired..." Rhea huffed, the headache feeling as if it was going to split her head in two, stopping to compose herself before moving forward along, turning onto a much quieter, nearly empty street. Her reflection mirrored to her right as she slowly walked along the base of a towering building smothered in reflective windows. "Do you ever get tired," Rhea softly huffed again, stopping to turn her face towards her disguised one as her lips curled into a snarl "of never shutting the fuck up?" Red stared at her for a long moment, her expression unreadable for several tense moments before she burst out into a fit of giggles. Rhea let out a small grunt of disgust before turning to continue her mindless trek, unsure of where it really was she was trying to get to. Home obviously...a place to rest, recuperate, plan her next move. But again to what end...? Would she simply sit by and let the invasive forces who had claimed her own retain their occupation...? Would she blow up another piece of infrastructure to try to get Lewis to act...? What could she do...why would she even do it? "I told you..." Red growled, the steps of her heels growing rapid and quickened as Rhea started to turn towards the sound "It's PRINCIPLE." Rhea felt the ground come away, her legs swept as her back hit the pavement with a heavy thud. The wind as knocked out of her, an airless gasp of widened-eye pain echoing in silence into the air as her head exploded with pain. The fox-mask clad demoness climbed upon her in a full mount, grasping her by the shoulders as she hissed down to her other half "Whether you WANT it to or not...nature WILL correct itself. The principle of everything and its reason for being cannot be changed...consequences can not be ignored. No matter how many times you want desperately to stop, or how hopeless or directionless you feel, you CANNOT escape your own nature, your own reason. You WILL persist, you have no other alternative or choice. You WILL persist." She tilted her head, Rhea still trying to catch her breath as the woman below searched desperately with her eyes at some unseen answer, panic and fear gripping her as Red paused for a moment to slowly slide her hands across the skin of her shoulders, gracing the contours of her collarbone before finally sliding around her neck. "Or do you need more proof...?" The hands tightened suddenly, grasping around Rhea's neck and drawing a fraction of a choking gasp out of the woman's lungs. Red started to choke her, violently, purposefully, a murderous intent in the glassy eyes of her mask. Rhea kicked her legs out wildly from underneath, trying to squirm herself free but to no avail. The edges of her vision started to turn a violent crimson, streaks of blood-colored lightning flashing across her vision as her mouth was contorted open in a soundless scream, a gurgling wheeze and a choking froth all that emerged from her throat. She tilted her head up slowly as Red taunted from above her, voice low and murderous. "If there's some reason to you...some purpose or principle to your existence...then something should stop me...no?" She tilted her head, lifting Rhea up slightly by the neck to slam her back down, the back of her head thudding against the concrete. Rhea could feel liquid burning at the back of her skull, the red in her vision starting to turn an inky black. "Or perhaps your purpose IS to die...? Would that be a better alternative for you?" As Rhea looked upward, her eyes passed over the mirrored window...and beheld a sight that made her blood freeze. She was choking herself. Her own hands were clasped upon her throat, no other was mounted upon her. She thought about Red's words, the nature of her own existence. She made a promise, several promises sure...but that wasn't her purpose for living, for existing. She martyred herself so young...so early at the very start of her life for a singular reason. She knew deep down her mother was right...the path she would walk she would walk to the betterment of others...and to the detriment of herself. There was no other who could. As great or as little of a difference she would make...her existence was important. She herself was a reminder to all who knew of her the nature of balance. No great evil could exist...without an equal good. Her existence was mandated to continue so long as her enemies did, and she would suffer no obstacles that presented itself to that end. Rhea found a strength in her arm, shoving her hand behind her towards the small of her back. Her fingers grasped the firm ridge of the grip of her pistol, drawing it free in a flash and pressing the barrel up against Red's forehead. A cackle tore free from the masked woman's lungs as Rhea semi-weakly pulled the hammer back on her pistol. The muzzle of the fox mask drew close to her nose as she hissed in delight down to her equal "There you are....!" as a sudden ringing in Rhea's ears drew her eyes shut. The pain in her head and brain swelled to the point where she let out a pained yell until it suddenly fell quiet. The pain melted away, her breath returning to her as she gasped loudly and coughed hoarsely. She sat up slowly, retching as she struggled to get her coughing breath under control. She turned in her sat up position, looking towards her disheveled self in the mirrored window. Eyes bloodshot, hair a tattered mess, blood dripping from somewhere in the silver locks of her mane. Her hand finally dropped from her throat...as did the gun barrel she had apparently pressed against her head before shutting her eyes and bowing her head to rest for a moment. Funny thing...purpose, principle. A self-governing reason for existence. Everything with some part to play in an a psychotic show of nature. Whether it was part of God's plan or something more sinister, Rhea would never understand. What she -did- understand was that Red was more or less right...again, and she hated it. There was really no escape from this, no matter how badly she wanted out. So long as The Blessings existed and remained in Los Santos, she would have to remain as well. Her purpose dictated by powers beyond her control, her understanding. She felt powerless against it, a piece on a chessboard moved by monsters unseen. Could this really be her reason for living? For being so tough to kill...? Her purpose was to fight Blessings, sure...but to what end? Was she not meant to 'end' the struggle, and simply fight within it? Something within her churned at the idea, a feeling of emptiness and hunger gnawing at the lining of her soul. As she got up, holstering her weapon and drawing her jacket down over it to hide it she thought 'no', this couldn't be it. Something else was bound to her...some other destiny or fate. All that she had survived and all that she had endured had a reason for happening. Some direction, some purpose...if only she knew wh- The headlights blinded her, forcing her to take a step or two back rapidly. She threw up her hands in defense, unsure of what was happening until the lights veered away from her, a tire screech echoing in her ears before all fell silent save the purr of a large, armored-looking black cruiser type vehicle. She blinked the spots out of her eyes, confused and dazed before watching the rear door open, a voice speaking out to her. A voice she recognized. One she wasn't sure was still 'friend' or 'foe'. It was mixed feelings all around. "Hello Miss Moraine! Can you get in please, I'd like to talk to you about something!" She stared him down for a long moment, her lips tightening before she quietly inched forward, getting into the back of the vehicle. As she shut the door behind her, she felt a tinge of something in the back of her mind. Right place, right time...? Or something more....something worse... "10-4, returning to City Hall," the front passenger spoke into their radio, drawing Rhea to let out a weary sigh from her nostrils, her neck and throat achy and red with pain. Purpose and principle indeed.

Bumping because of drug table/burger shot scripting! I think this type of scripting is more than possible now and I still think this will benefit players looking to cook food in their own housing in addition to player-owned restaurants functioning as they should! You could also pair this with maybe some vegetable crop growing or something that players can do to have new recipes unlocked instead of having everyone on a strict protein only diet. The vegans like Kourtney Lafleur would benefit greatly from something like this!

I think with the new clothing update that is coming out, I think what would benefit the civilian sector (or most of the playerbase anyway) would be a piece of furniture that is scriptly made to ONLY be able to put clothing/clothing items inside that has a wildly larger inventory space so people can have a large wardrobe of clothes instead of clogging up a gazillion amount of smaller cabinets packed with smaller bags and have to rely on memory or a headache of a maze of google sheets to get to their specific clothing. I think with the large amount of clothing items that are coming out, that having a large inventory access piece of furniture would be hugely impactful and give players the ability to hold a large amount of clothing in a specified piece of furniture that you cannot abuse by placing other weighted items inside such as car parts, guns, literally anything else BUT clothes. I think with the size of some of these closets, it's more realistic to hold clothing in a piece of furniture with larger inventory rather than realistically have clothes just smushed into bags, etc. Most standard dresser drawers can hold at least 20-40 shirts per drawer if packed correctly or in some styles, and I think this will greatly benefit the community on the QoL side. Alternatively, you can maybe put a UI in lowend, medium end, or high end houses that come with its own wardrobe inventory that has slots dependent upon the level of quality housing you currently own. I think this would be a great addition/upgrade to the clothing update once it is released!

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.

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'."