Wolokai142

Stop me if you've heard/seen this one before. We'll use...DOC / LEO as an example. Bringing a suspect into custody, to hand them over to DOC. You tell them you've got stuff on you that needs to go into their evidence locker. Pretty standard right? Sure. Until the conversation/scenario goes something like this: LEO: "Can you put these gloves into John_Smith's locker please?" DOC: "Why sure! You can just leave them on the ground." Or, LEO: *dumps all civilian items to be evidence logged on the ground* "Here's all his stuff." ??? I'm sure anyone who's had any interaction with anyone else in their lives doesn't particularly view people throwing things on the ground or dumping them from their pockets for -you- to pick up as 'normal'. My suggestion is an inventory trading script, something akin to the /frisk command that allows people to trade between their inventories. Much like the trading windows you seen in MMO's, with a window where players can drop items into, and a button to confirm the trade. Giving someone a gun, handing someone a GPS. Literally anything in the game that you can just pass to someone without dropping it on the ground like a rude butthead going "Here you go, dropped it on the ground for you." Is that normal to you? Not so much to me. I prefer my burgers 'without' sand, dirt, and pond water on them thank you. Just a suggestion, let me know what you think.

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"T H E Y ' R E H E R E" Part 2 / 2 Ryan Moraine wasn't sure exactly when it was that they hit the roof of the car below, but he did know that it was sudden, and that even with the padded cushion of the surely crazy and psychotic woman that he landed on...that it really frickin' hurt. He groaned, trying to blink his way through the pain as tears welled up in his eyes. They were kissed away by the rain as quickly as they formed however, the boy sitting up slowly off of the woman who lay limp underneath him. The roof had been dented in, the fox-mask clad female lay crumpled in a heap in the center of the wreckage. The car alarm was blaring, and from his position the boy could barely make out the silhouette of a bull mask wearing monster standing within the ruins of the window above. Ryan turned his gaze back down to the woman, placing his hands on her and shaking her firmly, shouting at her through the torrential downpour. "Lady, hey wake up!" He cried, shaking her as roughly as he could. He took a look back towards the entrance to the apartment complex, knowing it wouldn't be long before they'd be back after them. "Come on....!" He breathed, slapping her mask around by the muzzle "Lady PLEASE, you gotta wake up!" Glancing back up, his eyes widened as he beheld one of the Bulls standing at the base of the stairs up to the complex, standing in its wide stance and staring straight at them. "NOW IS A GOOD TIME!" He shouted, practically slapping her at this point as the Bull started to take slow, careful strides towards them. "RED!!!!" Red gasped, wheezing a harsh set of coughs as the boy tried to pull her up into a sitting position, urging her to move as the Bull moved closer, only a few cars away from them. Red shook her head, trying to get her bearings as well as the ringing out of her head when she caught side of the impending monster encroaching upon them. "GOD you fucking bastards suck at dying!" She roared, grasping Ryan's hand and forcing herself off of the car, dragging him along with her. She nearly collapsed as she landed on the wet concrete, her body screaming in agony as she picked herself up and limped away from the wreckage. Ryan took a few glances behind them as the Bull picked up his pace, power walking to a near jog as he thundered after them. Red huffed and heaved, pulling the boy along as she rounded one corner, and then another into the back parking lot. Her elegy rested towards the back of the lot, the woman fumbling for the keyfob in her pants and clicking the button quickly. She slumped against the side of the car as she pushed Ryan along, pointing to the other side and shouting "Get in the car! GET IN THE CAR!!!!" She looked over her shoulder, the Bull nowhere to be seen. She quickly stepped inside, turning the ignition and flooring the gas and together the two of them roared out of the parking lot. Just as Red made to turn left onto the main street, a horrendous blaring of headlights entered their vision, and a thunderous roaring of a powerful engine buffeted the inside of the car. She hydroplaned a moment, spinning semi out of control until she came to a stop, her windshield facing the cause of the disturbance. A black Kamacho rested there, the silhouette's of three bulls sitting in the cabin clearly visible. It revved its engine as Red revved her own, reaching over and grasping Ryan's seatbelt. She yanked it over and buckled him in, throwing the gears in reverse and slamming the gas. The Kamacho roared after her as she turned the wheel sharply, spinning the car about and slamming the gear up to surge forward. Moving from second to third in quick succession, Red pushed the engine harder and drifted around several tight corners. Just as she rounded one corner, she could just barely glimpse the headlights of the kamacho in her rearview. She was gaining ground....but if she didn't get out of the city soon, she was going to drift one too many corners and either hydroplane out of control or fly straight in front of any number of the LSPD who were....really not so big of fans of hers. She could hear Philipe's demeaning 'Oh dear' from here. "Ok kid," Red huffed, the pain in her body almost becoming too great to ignore. "I think we're safe.....for now." It was several hours later. After a few close shaves, the fox-masked woman managed to lose the Bulls, roaring out across the country side. They had taken brief refuge at a gas station, with Red going in to buy snacks and leaving Ryan out to pump the gas. She came back, limping, carrying not only snacks but several odds and ends of first aid materials. Back on the road, the drive was quiet for the first hour or so. Red had flicked on the radio for him, letting casual rock play softly as she drove them up the northern country side. It was a tense, eerie situation between the two of them. When Red finally did speak, it made Ryan jump slightly as he turned his head sharply to listen to her. "They're called The Blessings," She said, staring out of the front windshield. "They're an old terrorist and information broker organization, been around since the Cold War." Ryan nodded slowly, swallowing roughly. Red had trouble reminding herself that this kid...he was just ten years old. He probably didn't understand what was even happening...or let alone what he had just gotten himself into. The scale of danger he was in now...could it even be comprehended to a child? "Well...what...what do they want?" He asked quietly, turning in his seat slightly. "Me," She responded, pulling over to the side of the road and sighing, staring at her hands on the wheel. She took a few long moments to slowly look over towards Ryan before she huffed a small sigh and reached up, slowly pulling her mask off. Her red hair furled around her as her face came into view, double black eyes with colors of silver meeting his own. "I...was one of them, a long time ago. I was brainwashed and forced into servitude until...well...I broke free. I destroyed a sect of them in Vice City, where you got all your newspaper clips from." "But if you destroyed them..." Ryan asked softly "Then who were the guys in the bull masks?" Red had to take a moment to get her nerves under control. She never did like to address them, think about them...or even acknowledge "They're The Enforcers....they're the ones that the leader of the Blessings, the Matriarch, sends out when she needs something or someone utterly destroyed. They're...something that used to be human, but anything human was scraped out long ago...replaced by mute, autonomous killing power. They have a high tolerance to pain, they're extremely resilient to fatigue, and killing one is almost unheard of. I mean, fuck, I had to throw one in front of a train just to kill it." Ryan looked up at her in awe, reaching into his pockets and producing the plastic baggy with the newspaper clippings. "But...what about me?" He asked, looking up at her with such a begging look "Who am I...in all of this? The matrons at the orphanage...they know about these Bulls. Everytime I ask they punish me, tell me to stop asking, that it was just a Halloween prank that a bunch of men in bull masks were just parading around the orphanage, and that I was dropped off by other people..." Red slowly looked away, a pain in her eyes as Ryan shook his head at her "But that's not true...is it?" The red-haired woman shook her head, bowing it as Ryan whispered "Who...are you? Who are you to me?" The air was tense, quiet.... It took several long moments for Red to blink away her tears, to still the fearful beating in her heart and with a raising of her head and a clearing of her throat, she told him. "My name, is Rhea Devrim Moraine. I'm your mother. You...are my son." They stared at one another for a long time...Ryan at her, her at Ryan. Ten years she had been a prisoner of the Blessings...ten years had she been separated from her son. But now, at last, mother and son had been reunited. A thud pounded in Rhea's heart, her bottom lip quivering as Ryan nodded. It was then that she took a moment to get a tad bit more comfortable, nursing her wounds as she told him everything. She told him about how he was born, how she thought he was dead, how they took him from her and how she didn't even know that he was alive until only a few months ago. They stared at each other for a bit more before Rhea could no longer take it any longer, pulling her boy into a tight hug, letting out a shuddering breath and clutching him dearly. It was the most peace she had known in ages, holding her long lost darling to her. But even in that moment....she knew that such a peace couldn't last, not while they were still hunting them. They pulled away from one another, the weary, wounded mother taking a moment to look at him before whispering "Now...I take you somewhere safe. And then...I go kill the Enforcers." "But...!" Ryan protested, a look of concern on his face "You said t-that they're unkillable....what if something happens to you?" "Ryan..." Red whispered, looking away for a moment as she took a breath "If I don't stand up to them...you will never be safe. We will never be free." She put a hand on his cheek, looking into his eyes "I lost you once...I can't lose you again. This has to end." He stared at her for several long moments before he nodded, settling back into his seat and together they continued north. They traveled for hours, with Ryan sleeping most of the way there. She drove them to Deerwood Pines, to a motel at the edge of town. She looked over the familiar building, sighing as she pulled into the lot. This motel in particular she had picked out a long time ago, keeping one of the rooms reserved as a safe house for just such an occasion. She picked it out for its remote location, but more so for the location that rested about twenty miles outside of town...the place where she'd finally bring this nightmare to a close. She checked in at the front desk, quickly picking up a key and heading back to the car. She opened the side door to gently scoop Ryan out into her arms, carrying him along the sidewalk towards their room. After balancing him in one arm and carefully juggling the keys for a moment, she managed to nudge the door open with her foot. She took a few seconds to look around at the area behind her before quietly slipping in and closing it behind her. After leaving him on the bed, she took a quick walk out to the car, opening the trunk to ensure she had all the supplies she needed. She had been holding onto quite a few tools for awhile...up to and including the bag of C4 she still had tucked away, from the same collection she used to blow up the Blessings HQ in Vice City. She pulled one of the tarps over, revealing a manikin stuffed underneath a spare set of clothes and some spare spools of wire with what looked like a detonator. She huffed softly, going over her manifest twice before closing the trunk with a soft thump and heading back inside. After what felt like an age asleep, Ryan finally woke up. He sat up groggily, rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes and looking towards the only light that seemed to be on in the dinky motel room he had found himself in. The bathroom light was on, the mirror slightly steamed and the sink absolutely smothered in long, red strands of hair. He tilted his head, confused before a figure stepped out from the bathroom, finishing zipping up the red and black skin-tight leather suit it wore. Red stood in the doorway, her hair chopped above her shoulders and dyed a dark, grayish silver. The sockets of her eyes and the edges all around were absolutely smothered in eye-shadow and eyeliner, and in clutched in one of her hands was her fox mask. "You're going to stay here until I come back," she muttered, making her away around the room towards him and sitting on the edge of the bed, resting her mask next to them and turning to face him. They stared at one another for the long while, mother and son reunited at last...only to have to separate once again. It wasn't fair...it wasn't right...but it had to happen. Everything in her life was paid at the price of blood...why should this have been any different? She had fought the Enforcer's before, run from them and survived. But she could only survive...she could never defeat them in the past. With all that she had learned however, and the immense amount of experience she had gained over the time she had spent in Los Santos....maybe...maybe now was the time at last. "Are you coming back..." Ryan suddenly whispered, looking up at her with such a worrisome glance that she had to seriously consider perhaps not going at all. She shook her head however, sighing "I don't know...but if I don't come back by the end of tomorrow. Go back to Los Santos, find Niki Zhou. She works at Los Santos Customs in the city, a mechanics place. Tell her who you are...and she'll take care of you until she can find you something more permanent." "But...we only just found each other again," Ryan started to protest, only to be gently shushed by Red as she pushed a finger to his hips. "And maybe..." she whispered gently to him "Maybe that's been for the best. I'm not a good person Ryan...I am not one of the heroes...one of the good guys." She leaned forward, pecking the top of his head and standing, plucking up her mask and moving briskly to the door. As she opened it to step through he called out after her "So you're one of the bad guys...like the Bulls?" She paused, taking a moment to pull on her mask and slowly turn her head, a mechanical whirring emanating from the confines of it and the eyes flickering for a moment before igniting with a soft glowing green. "I'm worse." ~~~ The Enforcer's had tracked her cell phone signal north, having lost her for quite a few hours. When they finally picked it back up, the had traced it to an old ironwork's and refinery a few hours away. Getting there wasn't much of a hassle, the three of them quiet, near motionless save for the driver as they made their way north. When they arrived, they sat and watched the outside of the building for quite awhile. They could see lights flickering on the inside, sounds of metallic grinding and flashes of sparks and molten metal casting eerie glows towards the windows yet....there wasn't a soul in sight. She was here. The sound of a phone ringing sounded off from the dashboard, the Bull in the passenger seat slowly lifting a finger to press the green 'accept' button and listening as a text-to-speech style voice spoke through the speakers. "Priority one. Locate and terminate Subject R-1." The three Bulls exited the Kamacho without another word. Two of them headed towards the front, while the other headed around the building towards the back. The rear-bound Enforcer took his time moving around the building, slowly looking towards the windows to see if he could see any movement. There was none, nor did he expect there to be. Subject R-1 was a particularly interesting animal. More terrifying than even themselves on certain occasions though he'd never admit to such. No...she'd be further inside, probably near the heart of the building and lying in wait. He rounded the last corner, moving towards one of the doors he saw there, the rusted metal cracked open to where it was slightly ajar. Yes...she had become quite predictable in the last few years. Tracking her was no huge issue anymore, and neither would be killing her. Though....that thought in and of itself was quickly tossed out the window as glaring light suddenly lit off from his right side, accompanied by the sound of a roaring engine. The Enforcer turned his head, watching as two mammoth headlights roared into his vision. He had only a split second to put his hands up before the semi-truck smashed into him, the vehicle driving straight through the wall and into the building. An explosion of metal and noise echoed across the surrounding area as The Enforcer was torn to pieces by the grill and the objects he was smashed into, mangling him into nothing as the truck finally smashed into a few steel pillars and stopped in an instant. The other two Enforcer's came to a stop as they had just entered the building, hearing the thunderous commotion on the other side. The sound of a truck door opening and closing echoed from somewhere within, the two of them looking at one another for a moment before silently splitting up, one taking to a set of stairs while the other remained on ground level, pushing further into the facility. The Enforcer moved through the building at a careful, precise pace...a hunter's pace. He turned his head slowly, scanning every are he could with his piercing gaze. The hulking brute was just about to round a corner to head back to meet the other Bull when a voice called out and taunted him with "And to think....I once considered you people the bogeymen." He turned his head slowly, and set his eyes upon her. She stood motionless within a rectangular archway, with the dim eyes of her fox masked trained straight on him. He wasted no time, turning towards her and briskly thumping straight towards her, his fists clenching in preparation to deal out a world and a half of hurt. He'd never get his chance however, as he stepped through some straw before her and came to an immediate stop when said straw burst upwards with a metallic 'CRACK!', accompanied by the slamming of a metal grate in his face, separating him from her. He looked down, seeing that he had been caught in a bolted down bear trap, his leg bleeding horrendously from the jagged edges that crushed his skin and bone. He looked up without a word, throwing a hand between the bars and grasping her neck, twisting it harshly to snap it between his fingers. But instead of blood...only styrofoam burst forth from her wounds. The manikin he had successfully murdered crumpled to the ground, staring down at it for only a moment before a movement to his left made him to turn his gaze. Red had stepped out from behind a nearby corner, standing in much of the same sort of pose as they had often taken when staring her down. She slowly lifted her left hand, a control module pressed within her palm with a thumb overtop one of the buttons. She pressed it, quietly dropping the module and disappearing back behind the corner. The Enforcer looked up, helpless as he watched from above him, a vat of orangeish-yellow molten metal tip from an overhead vat, pouring itself down onto its immobile victim below. The last Enforcer made his way slowly onto the higher levels, looking up towards a catwalk high above. He'd be able to at least get a good vantage point from above, probably even see her the easiest from there. As he ascended the metallic stairs leading up to said catwalk, he could hear a matching set like his from far over on the other side. Perhaps his brothers had the same idea? As he stepped onto the entrance of the walkway, he stopped instantly. Red stood on the far side, her mask pulled off and held in one hand as her other hand rested on what looked like a tape recorder on her hip. They stood there, brutal and bitter enemies facing one another without a word...without a single sound until Red pressed her thumb in on the play button, and waited. There was static for a moment until Red's own voice suddenly spoke out into the air. "There's a reason you tranquilize dangerous animals before you walk into their cage....a reason why the Matriarch would send you after me when it was time to come collect me, when I was off mission." Red slowly raised her mask, her body trembling as she narrowed her eyes at the embodiment of her nightmares. "Makes sense...doesn't it? I mean, who in their right mind would want to go standing in the way of the creature they specifically bred and groomed to be the perfect killing machine? Have you ever seen it? Of course you wouldn't have....you're still alive. So, let's rectify that....let's put it out there, let you...'admire', yours and the Matriarch's handy work..." It was an incredible moment...an unheard of moment as the Enforcer before her took a step backwards. Red slowly shook her head at him, as if to say 'No....there's no running. Not anymore.' It was in that instant that her voice on the recorder finally breathed the words that put Rhea Moraine...to rest. "Omega. Sixteen. Juniper.....CAROLINE." Red's pupils dilated as she pulled on her mask slowly, her hands reaching behind her, and unsheathing the hatchet and knife she had on the back of her belt. "Now then me..." Red's voice went on, the fox-mask clad monster taking a low, crouching position. "Get in there...and do what you do best." Red charged forward without a sound, rapidly closing the distance between them as the Enforcer reached down behind him, grasping a metal pole laying upon the ground and rearing it up to block the heavy swing of a hatchet down towards his skull. He broke free of her, ducking the knife and side stepping another wild swing of the hatchet before hurling the pipe around, catching red in the hip. She was silent as she staggered only a step before leaping back in with a furious flurry of blows. Back and forth they clashed, ducking and stabbing and swinging. She caught the Bull twice along his arm with the knife, and in his side with the hatchet, fresh blood quickly staining the leather. She had endured her own nasty set of hits, her bones aching under the assault of his blows as she caught on in the left shoulder, and another catching one of her thighs at the tip. But onwards they fought, moving back and forth along the catwalk with a graceful like dance, the best of their fallen order in the fight of their lives to finally decide and discover who it was who would prove to be the better hunter. Fate seemed determine to bestow its blessing upon one party in particular, as the fox threw her hatched up to catch a downwards swing form the Bull's pipe. She caught the pole under the head of the axe, yanking the tool town to slam the pole into the handrails of the catwalk and pin it there as she slammed her foot down into the side of his leg. A clear 'snap' was heard as its leg buckled, forcing him to one knee and giving Red the perfect opportunity to throw her knife forward in silence, pressing it up between the gap of its mask and into the side of his neck. She twisted it with a firm, single screw of her wrist, grabbing the back of its mask and rearing its head back. She flicked her hatchet, dislodging the pole from her grip and turning it upwards so she could slam the Bull's head downwards into the blade, throwing both her hands onto the back of his leather jacket, and hurling him over the side of the railing. She watched him tumble, motionless, into the darkness below. There were no thoughts, no words....only silence. She gently turned, walking quietly and gracefully from the catwalk...down the several sets of stairs and eventually out of the ironwork's themselves. When she got about halfway up the hill she was climbing, the tape recorder suddenly chimed up again. "So by now, I'm really hoping we've killed them all...because if we haven't, well....I'm sure we did our best." Red said nothing as she paused, looking down at the tape recorder for a moment before her voice sighed through the tape and went on "Oh well...success or failure...we were always bound to face the music eventually. I just...hope it worked out the way it was meant to. I'd be ok if the stars had it written a certain way from the start. But regardless of the outcome...it's time. Wake up." Red looked up, looking behind her suddenly at the ironwork's she left behind. A sudden torrent of pain suddenly rushed through her body, the woman hugging herself and letting out several gasps and shrill wheezes of air as she struggled to stay on her feet. She trudged up the hill, reaching its peak after a moment and weakly reaching down into the bag she had left there. She rummaged for a moment before pulling out her detonator, grunting in pain as she straightened back up and flicked the singular switch on the front of the panel. The red light beside it turned green, her thumb resting on a black button resting at the base. She gave the building a good, long look before she finally whispered "Good night Dad...." and pressed the button. The ironwork's exploded with a thunderous kaboom, the shock wave nearly knocking her off of her feet, and sending a great plume of fire and smoke upwards into the air. She stared at it, the flaming wreckage, the now tomb of her most vicious nightmares. She only gave it a few moments however, before she silently picked up her bag, slinging it over her back. She pulled her mask off, her face weary and her eyes lightly fluttering before stuffing it in the bag as well and turning southwards...beginning her long, agonizing trek back towards the motel. Back towards her son. Her Familia. Her City. Home.

"T H E Y ' R E H E R E" Part 1 / 2 Two Weeks Ago Red stepped in out of the rain, shaking out her grey and black checkered shirt and trudging up the front stairs of the apartment complex. She passed the figure sitting on the stairs, the person clearly having been waiting for her yet she gave them no manner of attention or even a passing glance. She didn't want to speak to them, didn't want to have to continue to hear more and more of the same nonsense, or to be laden with further doubts. Besides...since when was talking to ghosts any sort of a good idea anyway? The last time she had talked to the figure, it had been at Paleto Bay after her, Alicia, and Gabe had their quarrel at the impound. She had taken their words to heart, understood what she was supposed to do but...the figure had to make its voice known. "You see how easily Alicia can just let you go?" It said, slowly pacing its way around her as she listened to the radio chatter of a hunt against the Triads making its way towards them in Paleto. "You raise your voice, have an opinion, and she threatens to just throw you away? And Gabe...did you really buy all that nonsense he spoke of you?" It wasn't how like the figure was describing it. Red knew it, her hands shaking too badly to be able to unlock her elegy. She wished it would just go away...stay buried where it belonged but she knew it was futile. To be haunted was to be human, so she'd endure the torture...for now. Even now, weeks later in the lobby of the apartment complex the hauntings continued, yet this time the ghost wordlessly watched Red walk past her and up the steps to the elevator. The fox-mask clad woman stepped inside, slowly turning and feeling her heart skip a beat as the figure now stood before the entrance, staring at her. She tried not to look at it, attempting to avert her gaze from the blue hoodie she wore. It was torn to absolute shreds, pockets of ghoulish, rotten flesh appearing between the tears. The wolf mask the figure war was equally worn and torn, the eyes of it having been ripped outwards and showing two bottom pits where the eyes of the woman beneath would've been seen had she any left. The woman was silent as the elevator door closed, drawing a shiver from Red as she gently tapped the button on the side panels to take her to her floor. She crossed her arms, standing close to the door and bowing her head and taking a few rare moments of brief respite to clear her mind. A tall order indeed, the events of the past months weighing heavily on her shoulders. It was a weight she was used to carrying, but nowadays the burden seemed to be too much to bear. The elevator dinged once...twice...three and then four times before it suddenly came to a halt. The tiny room jostled with a thunderous set of metallic clangs and whining parts. Red frowned, looking towards the panel and seeing that the emergency stop had been activated. She tried to get the buttons to respond, even tried the intercom but all the systems appeared to be down. She sighed, reaching down to her hip and drawing the large knife she carried around, wedging it between the doors and trying to get them to spread apart. She went on this way for several minutes, quietly swearing and grumbling as she made no leeway. The ghost mouthed off behind her, its breath raspy and ethereal as it said "Why must you see the need to force things to your liking? Wouldn't you rather let nature run its course and just enjoy the ride?" But of course Red didn't listen, nor did she acknowledge the voice of the being behind her until eventually it sighed and muttered "Very well....have it your way." The lights suddenly came on and the whirring groan of the elevator finally signified that the power was back on. She knew by design that the elevator doors were designed to open in the wake up emergencies like these, so she took a step forward in anticipation. As the doors opened, she came to a sudden stop, her head tilting up as her gaze was immediately drawn to something towering over her. Her breath was silenced in her throat in the tenth of a second, her eyes growing wide. She had barely a chance to scream as a hulking figure, clad in a tight leather jacket and a bull mask, stepped forward into the elevator and threw a hand around her throat. She cried out, having been hoisted and heaved upwards and slammed into the back of the elevator. The knife dropped from her hand due to the impact, her legs kicking frantically at the air as the Bull held her firmly at length, barely moving despite the onslaught she was attempting to dish back out to him. She threw a fist into his wrists, her legs frantically kicking at his legs and stomach. What hits she did land didn't seem to phase the monstrosity at all, the Bull turning and heaving with all its might around him to toss Red out of the elevator. She flew across the small landing, hitting the ground with a thud and sliding off of the top most step of the staircase leading to the lower floors. She cried out as she tumbled down the steps, thankfully only rolling down one set before coming to a sprawling stop. She coughed, retched even as she panted and slowly looked up to see the Bull standing up at the top of the stairs, watching her with its arms at its sides. She made to get up, slowly working her arms under her to get up into a kneeling position. Unfortunately, as she moved so did the Bull, starting to take a few steps down the stairs towards her. After his third and fourth step however, the Bull suddenly lurched forward, arms stretched outwards. It toppled over itself, rolling down the stairs and crashing into the wall next to Red, falling limp. She snapped her head up to the top of the stairs, a shrill gasp emanating from her as she beheld her own son, Ryan, standing at the top, panting rapidly out of fright and standing in a position of having just shoved her would-be assailant down the stairs. Questions raced through her mind as she tore up the stairs after him without a second thought, quickly grasping him up in her arms and turning back to race down the stairs. She huffed and grunted as her heels clacked loudly against the floor, looking back only once to ensure the Bull was still unmoving, and it was. Down and down the stairs they went, coming down onto the landing of the 1st floor when she suddenly slid to a halt. Looking below, she could see another of the Bulls slowly making its way up the lower steps towards her, causing her to gently lower her son to the floor and grasp his hand, turning and sprinting away down the main corridors of the floor. Apartment doors were a blur past her, the two of them turning several corners. Left, then right, then another right, then left. As they rounded the next bend however, the two of them beheld yet another Bull pacing slowly towards them. Looking over her shoulder, she could see one of the Bulls from earlier round a corner and make its way towards them, cutting them off from both ends. Looking to her left, room 55's door rested in front of them. With the Bulls drawing closer, Red yanked her son behind her and drew her point fifty, taking a few shots at the door handle and kicking the door itself in. As they fled into the darkness of the room, Red wasted no time in throwing the door shut behind her and turning both deadbolts and chaining the door. "Why didn't you just shoot them?!" Ryan asked, watching as Red rushed to the far window on the other side of the living room. She stared out of it for a second, nodding and quickly rushing back. She yanked a large towel out of the bathroom, approaching Ryan as she said "It wouldn't work...trust me," and wrapping it around his head. Quickly plucking both gloves off of her own hands and pulling them over Ryan's, she picked him up into her arms. "You're going to need to trust me now...ok? Whatever you do, do not scream." Ryan nodded against her chest, eyes hidden from the world as the door behind her started to thud and get throttled about violently. Without looking back, Red took a few steps back and made a running charge towards the window. She muttered a few rapid prayers as she took a running leap over a couch and dove forward, corkscrewing into the air so that her shoulder would collide with the window first. As they exited the window into the roaring storm outside, Red could just barely make out the sound of the door being torn apart from within, the wind tearing at the duo as they sailed through the air towards the street below. Continued in Part 2 / 2

SPOOKY TIME!

The Son She kicked it into the highest gear, veering her weight to the right and sailing around the curve of the road. The wind whipped across the firm texture of her fox mask, the soulless green of its eyes gleaming in the sunlight as she tore her way up the winding roads of northern California. She hadn't told Alicia where she was going. Hadn't told anyone. She had left all her belongings behind, including her cellphone and had even stolen a bike to cover her tracks in going north. She hadn't planned on coming back up this way, at least not this soon....but the looming threat of war had reshuffled her priorities. Not to mention the strain she felt in her mind, slowly tearing itself at the seams. She had felt it since the night she learned the truth of her own birth...the slow, gradual decline. Being reborn meant tearing away everything that the Blessings had done to her...but too late did she fully understand what that meant. The Vice City Sect had always prided themselves in the 'reprogramming' aspect of their work, breaking a human being down to their foundation and rebuilding what they needed to back up, effectively creating their standard brand of 'agent'. But a human being....at their core, their most basic level...is primal fury. "An animal," The Matriarch had always told her, "An animal is all we are...all we can ever strive to be in life R-1. We as people have been domesticated...like pets, to live in the modern world amongst one another and bound by delusional beliefs of peace and harmony." She could feel it, even now...the blood rising in her veins. Oh she had free herself from The Blessings alright...but by dismantling their programming she fell right into the Matriarch's final trap...the foundation. CRU was beyond her now. So was help from Alicia, from Niki, from anyone. Believing her Fiance' to have abandoned her due to her Triad affiliation, being mercilessly hunted by the LSPD at every corner and turn, Roth's breath hot and angry on the back of her neck, and now yet another war just over the horizon....this could've been the very last chance she had at real contact. She had been this way once before, but...never really completed the journey. Nerves were her downfall the last time she had made the attempt, but this time...this time everything was on the line. This could very well be the last time...the only time...the final time....she could ever have any chance of seeing him. A few more hours on the road and she found herself north of the Shasta-Trinity National Forest, in a town just south of Edgewood. It was a quiet little town, your usual amenities and local shops. She stood out like a sore thumb, catching odd glimpses from some of the people she passed by as she slowly rolled through the streets on the motorcycle. She had to move quickly...quietly. If LSPD had popped the BOLO on the vehicle and threw her description out...it was only a matter of time before local LEO's or worse...the State picked up on her movements. She could practically hear Campbell's monotone indifference and Sanchez's handcuffs from here... She ditched the bike two blocks away from her target, tucking it back behind a cluster of dumpsters behind the local coffee shop and took to a path into the treeline across the street, making her way slowly through the brush. It reminded her of long ago...when her and Reina would travel the Missouran wilderness together as children. Long gone were those days though...the transition between her generation and the future starting to come about. Before too long, she found herself standing behind a large oak located in the eastern fields of the building she was looking for, blending in amongst the rest of the foliage. She peered slowly, cautiously, the open smile of her fox mask just barely visible from her vantage spot. She had managed to get a layout of the place from some old blueprints and outlying photographs, as well as a couple of time schedules by posing as a contractor for construction work, needing to work on a specific part of the eastern wing and needing to know when would be the most convenient time to do so....namely lunch. Lunch time was when the kids all exited the building to eat, and to play in the fields. Her gambit had paid off, as 1 oclock ticked away on her watch, a bell from within the building went off and kids flooded out of the front entrance, eager to being their playtime. She stood there and watched, far away, her eyes scanning the crowd over and over again. To be honest she didn't want to see him...she wasn't sure how she'd react, or how she'd feel...but it being the last time, she had to be sure. She couldn't leave it to chance. When she finally did see him, her breath caught. She had seen a photograph of him from years ago, and even then it was at a far distance but she knew...she knew right then in her heart it was him. A mother always recognizes her little one. He was tall for ten years, skinny but not lanky, and a full head of raven hair on top of his head. She could tell he had freckles, the way his dimples showed when he smiled and laughed with some of his friends. Her cheeks felt hot, silent tears spilling rapidly down her face beneath her mask as she held an expression of concern. Immediately her mind flooded with thoughts...thoughts she had ached to have ever since she knew of his existence within her: 'Was he healthy? Was he eating well? How were his studies? Was he popular? Was he....was he normal?' Her chest felt heavy, thudding and pounding with the beat of her heart as she clung tightly to the tree. She couldn't chance staying for much longer, but...by the stars just seeing him really put her mind at an ease she had not felt since she had first met Caroline. She tried so hard to pry herself from the tree...but her grip remained firm. She didn't know what it was...maybe she couldn't tear herself away, maybe she was scared if she let go that'd she rush towards him. It was only when he turned his head, catching sight of her and tilting his head in her direction that she let out a soft gasp, finally releasing the tree and turning to scurry off. She had nearly made it to the treeline when a voice called out behind her "Wait!" She stopped dead in her tracks. His voice was light, yet commanding though she knew it wasn't with intention. He could've told her to destroy worlds and she would've done so for him, the weight on her heart pressing heavily as she slowly turned her head to face him. When his eyes met the glassy orbs of her fox mask he took a step backwards, clearly frightened and unsure if he had made the right call in stopping her. From here she could see the same freckles as hers...the same silver in his eyes. The shape was more Reina's, like their father, along with that firm jawline and his brow. He was hers though...there could never be any denying it. They stared at one another for a long moment, neither moving, her barely breathing. "Y-you..." he muttered, staring up at her with wide eyes, filled with wonder, curiosity and fear "You...I, I know you. You're the woman aren't you....from the TV, from the news articles...?" He tilted his head at her, going to take a step forward as she took one back. "You're the lady from my dreams..." "I'm no one," she said, shaking her head firmly "No one of consequence...I'm...just lost, just passing through." She waved a hand dismissively at him "You should go back to your friends, back to your lunch." "But it IS you," He breathed, that eerily familiar narrowing of his eyes growing as he took another step towards her "Who are you...? I've asked the staff how I got here...they always say the same thing. Men in halloween masks...bull masks, they brought me here from Vice City. Since then as far as I can remember...I've had dreams, thoughts, feelings...I tried to look for anything that could lead me to where I came from and..." She paused for a long moment, looking around before sighing and kneeling, watching him approach her cautiously, reaching into a small satchel and pulling out a small wad and pile of paper. He handed them to her carefully, the woman in the fox mask gingerly taking them and sifting through them slowly. It was the newspaper clippings...of the Vice City shootout, and more. Brief glimpses of her, news reports, and some more recent ones about the rising levels of violence in Los Santos. "You did your research..." she breathed, looking up at him after a moment. "But still," she said, shaking her head "I'm no one." "N-no," He said, his voice wavering slightly as he tried to put on a brave face "M...my teacher tells me that everyone is someone to somebody...even me, and even you." Her heart softened slightly at his words. Such words spoken from an innocent youth...young, carefree, unburdened. Oh how she envied him. And to think...she was in his dreams. He had researched her. She had to have assumed that if he was her son...he would be resourceful like her, like her Aunt. He'd piece it together, somehow, someway. Though he probably only had scraps, barely anything to call a lead. "Wise words....hopeful ones," She said, slowly getting up "You ought to keep listening to that teacher of yours," He continued to stare at her, a sigh passing through the nose of her mask as she put a hand to her head and thought for a moment. A long minute passed before she huffed and pointed at him "Look kid... everyone questions where they come from...it's only natural. But...sometimes it's not important. The past is the past, and the present is now. Why don't you just...just live for the future, huh?" "Because I think everyone should know where they come from..." He said, frowning at her "And, and you being here, that's...that's like fate right?" She scoffed, shaking her head "Fate is bullsh-....fate is nonsense kid, everyone makes their own destiny. Even if one's chosen for you, life will put the control back in your hands one way or another." She made to turn, pausing as she looked over him, sizing him up. His bottom lip quivered, a look in his eyes that could've destroyed worlds. Her heart was no exception as she let out a heavy sigh and growled "O...Ok, look. I...didn't really plan for things to go this way. I'm someone...sure, ok, but in the next couple of months I may not be someone anymore. Something is coming...and it's big. Even if I were to speak, what would it matter if things were going to change soon anyway?" "Well...w-what's coming?" He asked, a tinge of fear in his voice. She swallowed before quietly whispering a single word: "War." She looked past him, towards the orphanage and let out a small breath "But not just war....a shadow. A shadow has begun moving in the east...slowly making its way this way...and it is a destroyer of all things good and right." She looked towards him, staring him down. "I'll make you a deal," she said "I will return, in two months time. At that point I will tell you the truth." She held a shaking breath, trying to keep her breath under control as she went on "B-but....if I don't come back...you have to drop this research. The life you're looking for....the answers, the Bulls and Vice City....that's history kid. Focus on the now, on the opportunities you have. Family, a new life, anything...but if I disappear, theses leads must too." He stared at her for a long, quiet moment, contemplating his options before finally nodding and muttering "Deal...," She nodded to him, and without a word, turned on her heel and ventured back into the brush, back to the diner, to the bike, back on the road with no company but her own soft sobs and tears to keep her company. She was on the path straight back to war...one she was sure would be her last. But for all the things to fight for now...she finally had something that went beyond just basic survival. She was fighting for her blood...her little one. Her whole life she had the truth withheld from her...this kid didn't deserve the same fate. Come what may, the fox-mask clad woman was not going to be stopped. There was going to be no compassion to her enemies, no comforts given nor quarter...and no mercy. One last war for Roja....for her son.

R O J A The Death of Rhea Moraine The sky crackled and roared above me. The thunderous explosions of light and sound echoed through the bowels of my very soul as I stared across the expanse of my apartment to the table just barely within my vision, the darkness taking most of its form into its tight embrace and nearly hiding what rested upon it from sight. The brief flashes of light from the storm outside however gave me more than enough time for me to look upon the visage of nightmares...a beast of anger and madness. Its lifeless green eyes stared into me, clawing with its piercing gaze into the ruins that used to be the sanctuary of my mind, bringing past memories and harsh pains I had once thought long gone back into the forward areas of my consciousness. I had worn her for so long...often times I wondered if there was anything left of me to salvage. I became that face....that war-scarred, gleeful looking expression that I wore as my own that often became the last thing my enemies saw before I sent them with the rest of the innocent and guilty alike who crossed me into the void. People identified me by that face, the face that was not my own. For many, when I pulled death from the top of my head I became no one, another nobody...invisible. It was as if I had pulled off my own head, and was just another body without it. There was no history of the woman beneath the Fox, no relations and nothing of worth. Yet...when my crown returned to me...yes, THERE she was... Irish Mobster....Los Zetas OG....psycho murderer...cop killer....unhinged warrior... There was Red....there she was, in all her glory, all her misery. No longer a woman in blue, but of checkered grey and black. Los Aztecas. Another organization, another path...but always the same kind. Blood would follow me in troves like it had done and continues to do even now. Wherever I turn, wherever I look...I see before me the corpses of my enemies or those soon to become them. I see distant wars and wars in the streets outside of my home. Behind me lies my old life...my true life. A life with Jay, with Kelly...Thrax, Wolf, Flint....my brothers, my sisters...my family. There was no life before that...no reason, no purpose beyond what was over 10 years that I spent in Vice City...a time of utter darkness, of true chaos and a maddening amount of bloodshed. That's what I experienced before, that's where I came from. I had thought it all gone once I destroyed the headquarters of a group known only as 'The Blessings'. I had an out. I could've walked away, gone home but...the fear of them...of them returning, of them still hunting me... No, my road wasn't over quite yet...so I ran here, to Los Santos. After the Irish War came and passed, it was the fights against Seaweed, Rebels, Russians, The Wanted, Narcos for a second and third time, and Rooks now for the third, and especially the West Coast War that really showed me who I really was deep down. I could argue that it was loyalty that kept me at Jay's side, keeping me fighting for him and his ideals, his goals and his beliefs. A sense of duty or a debt to be paid for bringing me into his circle and giving me a place amongst him and his own perhaps. But no...no deep down I think I knew really why it was that I stayed. And I wasn't a hundred percent sure until the era of Los Zetas had ended. Because even then, even after many retired and walked away...I stayed. Again an out presented itself, the door wide open. This time there was no fear...no doubts over the potential of me being hunted still by the boys in black, clad in their heavy bull masks. Really...I was free. Colorless. I could've done anything...gone anywhere. Mourned Caroline and the lives of brothers and sisters lost in peace until I faded away gently into a quiet passing...leaving behind no blood or legacy other than that provided by the better sister of our family already, with my deeds passing into quieted murmurs and eventually being lost on the winds of time, never to be reflected upon again. But I stayed. I put on the colors Alicia pressed into my hands, and thus I gingerly stepped onto the ever slowly spinning merry-go-round. At that moment...I knew what it was. It was unavoidable to circumvent the conclusion I had drawn...no escaping it this time. I never escaped the Blessings. They were with me, the whole time deep in my mind and my soul. I stayed in Los Santos to kill. To kill was what I was created for, it was my purpose for being. The Matriarch peeled away Rhea Moraine, removed who she was from the foundation of the soul and in her place...put me. Put Red. In essence I never really triumphed over her...because I couldn't escape my true nature. This was her victory over me...a curse. A curse to forever be the weapon she forged and honed me to be. If I was to serve Alicia and Carlos...it couldn't be like this. I couldn't go on like this. For years I could feel it, my mind slowly unraveling from the poison that The Matriarch embedded into my brain and veins. The violence, the murder...if I went on as I was, it would destroy me. The thirst would only grow and grow until I could no longer discern friend from foe. That was her true goal...the true loose end policy. Killing me was never the goal...because living was the greater torment, the greater punishment. To destroy everything around me and to leave myself completely alone was the true nature of what she had hoped for...to show me that no matter where I went, who I met, or what I did....I would always, end up, alone. I know this because I discovered it. Found it out from my last trip to Vice City, into the deepest depths of the ruins of The Blessing's HQ. From within the tomb of my old prison, I recovered it...the item I had looked for since coming here. The hard drive. The last little black box left that held everything, the only one left that wasn't destroyed or erased when I brought that office building down and The Blessings with it. Within it was the truth...all the truths. The truth about who I really was, what really happened on that night that Caroline died. I thought I knew all the answers, had it all figured out but...memory can be one hell of a thing. Two individuals can experience the same event, and yet remember all the details completely differently, and in this instance it was true. My eyes flicked from the fox mask down onto the coffee table before me. In the inky blackness of my home I could see the hard drive connected to my laptop, plugged in and ready to go. The problem was accessing it. The last time I had tried, I woke up on the roof of the building, swaying violently towards falling off the edge. Later that evening, I discovered a voice mail on my phone from myself, begging me not to try again to access it. Flint warned me to, asked that we try to pry out its secrets together but... I sighed, looking further beside the hooked up drive at the two tabs of acid on the table. They were a very special blend from Vice City, part of more things I had stolen from the ruined HQ. They were a key part in how The Matriarch 'restructured' me. I'd need their effects again tonight. I was out of time you see...I could feel myself on the verge of collapse. The weight of all the burdens I carried with me....all the pain...it had finally become too much. If I was to go on, I'd have to finally free myself from the burdens of my past, to make way for a new future...a new life. One free of The Blessings once and for all. I leaned forward, leaning to my right to pluck one of three shots of whisky from the small nightstand to my right. One. Two. Three. Each went down with a burn, my body trembling as I slid out of the chair and got onto my knees before the laptop, powering it on. The screen lit up my apartment with a murderous white glare that made me squint in pain at the login screen before me. Outside, the storm continued to rumble and roar, the lightning casting an eerie glow across the screen as it flashed. The main folder for the hard drive was there, already ready to be opened. Two left clicks away from what felt like my death... I tightened my lips into a grimace, swiping up the two tablets of acid and plopping them both into my mouth. My mouth crackled and burned as the tabs dissolved into my tongue and gums, a heavy swallow to follow. I sat there for a moment, looking towards my turned off phone. There was so much left unsaid...things I wanted to tell Flint, Niki, Alicia....Lucy. I know she'd never forgive me if I died before our wedding...but there could be nothing of our future if I didn't make this last stand. I looked back to the screen, and double clicked on the folder. I sat up moment later gasping for air, my body shaking as if I was being tazed and oh I knew the feeling well. I looked around wildly, my throat burning and my eyes watering and spilling with tears that were spurred by no emotion behind them. I was on the roof again, but not the one atop my apartment building. No...I recognized this skyline all too well, having looked upon it with Caroline countless times. Vice City. I took a moment to collect my breath, looking down over myself in a fit of confusion as I beheld my form clad in my old red jacket, matched with the same black and red leggings and my heeled boots. I reached up to my face, my hands touching the familiar texture of a fox mask. Looking down at my hands, I noticed they were gloved, but that the fabric had all but been torn. I looked to the sky as I slowly got up, the clouds moving at an alarming rate and colored a deep, menacing magenta, casting an eerie glow upon the earth below. I knew they were there by the time I stood up, a familiar sense of dread and terror starting to worm its way through my belly. Looking to the far side of the roof, near the access door, they stood. Four in a row, perfectly still like statues with arms in a widened stance by their sides. The beady black eyes of their bull masks stared at me, emotionless, lifeless. Not a breath escaped them, not a movement nor sound. I turned to face them, trying to calm my nerves and steady myself for what was sure to be a fight. Yet they didn't move or advance...merely stood there. I was pondering on whether or not I should make the first move when the door behind them suddenly opened...and she stepped out from the darkness within. My breath caught upon seeing her body clad in her skin-tight, black leather attire, her heeled boots clacking loudly against the concrete of the roof and her fox mask gleaming in the magenta light of the sky. She gingerly stepped between two of the bulls at the center, standing before them and staring straight into me, into my very heart...my being. It was The Matriarch of The Blessings. "Hello darling," She said with her usual elegance, her tone prim, proper, and with the subtle traces of a condescending nature. I didn't answer her at first, merely watched her fold her hands in front of her lap and clasp them together, the Matriarch taking her first few steps towards me and slightly shaking her head. "My my...." She said, her voice dripping in awe "Just...look at you. Our little girl, all grown up." I could feel a tightness in my chest as she took ten steps towards me, stopping at about a thirty-pace distance resting between us. "Amazing..." She laughed "After all this time, you're still alive? How IS that?" She shook her head again "You just don't stop do you? You never quit, you never tire...my we built you so beautifully." "Shut, the fuck up." I rasped to her, my breath shaky "You know why I'm here." She turned her head to the bulls, addressing them as if she hadn't even heard my comment. "You know her favorite movie as a child was 'The Terminator', did you know that? Always she begged her father to put it on, always asking if she could watch it again and again." She turned her head back towards me "The T-800 was your hero, remember? Growing up you always marveled at how unstoppable it was, its simplistic perfection, its unbridled, unhindered fury?" "HEY!" I screamed, taking a step forward "I didn't come here to listen to anymore of your psycho babble nonsense and your cocksuckering BULLSHIT, I came here for the truth, the truth I've been owed for the last ten fucking years! Your ghosts have tormented me long enough, always begging me to come home and, well!?" I threw my arms around, pivoting to the area around and motioning to myself "Here I fucking am! You got what you want, finally. But now it's MY turn. Your entire program has been nothing but a means to torture me...if the truth that I tried to learn was so horrendous to the point where I tried to stop myself from discovering it...then I can't think of a better way for you to dish out your final blow. So SPILL." The Matriarch stared at me for a few moments, silent and still. When she eventually did keep speaking, she went on as if what I had said either didn't register....or she had completely ignored it. "The words of Kyle Reese comes to mind, in the scene where him and Sarah Connor were hiding in that beat up car...do you remember?" She slowly began a careful, delicate walk towards me, my breath catching in my throat as the sky dimmed rapidly to the point where we stood in near pitch-black darkness. "It can't be bargained with. It can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear, and it absolutely will not stop. EVER. ...until you are DEAD." We stood face to face, her lifeless, fox-faced visage staring into mine. "We designed you to be a weapon of war...you were never meant to be a person, or retain personality, or anything of that nature. Ever since you were born we've been preparing for you, designing you and others that would go before you and follow in your wake to carry out our will and the mandate of those beyond us. I blinked, her words registering but not quite clicking. I opened my mouth slowly, my body starting to tremble as I wheezed "Wh-....what do you mean since I was born?" The ground fell out from underneath me, my scream echoing out into the nothing as I fell through the crumbling office building. Rebar and stone rattled around me, breaking apart and piecing back together just as fast until I fell into a room where lied a screaming woman. It was an operating room, men in medical scrubs and masks surrounding her as she cried out in absolute pain. I scrambled to my feet, panting rapidly as I looked between the doctors and felt my breath catch, my voice cracking as I cried out "M-mom!?" A pressure around my neck caused my words to gag in my throat, my feet leaving the ground as I looked down to behold The Matriarch hoisting me up high. "IN THE BEGINNING," She roared "THERE she was, the beautiful, the mesmerizing. Oh yes she was quite the treat, our perfect foundation. We had studied her for nearly five years, gathering all we needed to know, preparing for her restructuring. She was to become our next in a long series of agents, ready to carry out the will of those who believed in a future free of corruption and political enslavement." She squeezed, my hands grasping wildly at her hand as my legs kicked frantically underneath me. "But along came HIM!" She yanked me to the left, turning me to point in the direction of the table. Beyond my screaming mother stood my father, arms held tightly by bulls flanking him and tears streaming down his face, his cries of anguish almost as painful as hers. The Matriarch yanked me to her once more, our masks nearly touching as she spat "HE took her from us...ruined her, DEFILED her....he degraded her foundation and the work we had etched into it, forsaken his oath to us and damning our oaths to the ones beyond us. He had taken a LIFE from us, and his debt would be repaid!" My eyes widened near to bursting as she shook me in her grasp, throwing me to the ground soon after as I gasped for breath, curling up slightly. "Y-YOU...!" I managed, looking up at her in horror "W-WHAT DID YOU-" "YOUR FATHER," She screamed "Would pay for HER life with that of TWO. We would not be denied what was owed!" She clacked towards me slowly, my body struggling to crawl backwards "Set back, by years, and years! Oh sure there would be more agents to follow, our work would continue unhindered...but nothing, NO ONE could replace the art that was your mother." She stood over me, reaching down to grasp the front of my jacket and yank me up to her face, her snarl nearly making my heart stop. "Don't you see...you vile child. We never 'chose' you from the crowd. The race that day was not one of coincidence. Your fate, was NEVER your own. You were MADE for us, to pay for your father's betrayal. And if you crumbled as your mother did, well....at least we'd have the 'other' one." She slowly picked up my limp form from the ground, holding me aloft above her. Words finally crawled from my throat as I coughed "And....and y-yet I survived you...broke free of you!" "Did you..?" The Matriarch retorted, shaking her head "Regardless of what you will ever do Rhea...you will always be our girl. There's no escaping us, no circumventing your fate. You were born a Blessing upon this world, you were born to conquer and destroy...that is your purpose. You can never break free of your destiny, no matter how hard you fight. Until the day you die...you are MINE." A sudden explosion took out the ground underneath us, both of us falling into inky blackness for several moments until I alone landed harshly onto a tiled surface, my breathing labored and my eyes watering. I looked around frantically, trying to catch my bearings when I saw her, crumpled in a heap on the floor. "C-Caroline..." I breathed, her still, lifeless and bullet riddled body clutching a detonator, the same one I used to destroy the Headquarters. Out of the darkness beyond I saw the Matriarch burst forth, racing towards the device with an outstretched hand. I took off as well, willing my body forward out of desperation to stop her. We met in the middle in a violent collision over my long-dead fiance's body, swiping, punching, kicking. I deftly moved left and right, ducking and weaving left out of range of her right hook, turning into a twirl to deliver a round house to her head. She went spiraling across the ground, reaching a hand out as I grasped up the detonator from Caroline's corpse. "NO!" She screamed as I flipped the activator switch, arming it. I looked towards her as she cried out "Do you really think that this will change anything!? The truth will remain the truth Rhea, the facts will REMAIN the facts! You cannot change your destiny, you cannot change history! You are a BLESSING until death! Everything that you are, will always be until you take your last breath!" "I know," I said, carefully stepping over Caroline and yanking the Matriarch up just as she had grasped me "To be rid of you is to die....this I've come to realize for a long time. And you're right, so long as I live, my life will be as its always been...a life of mindless war and misery." I shook her slightly, screaming into her face "But I have seen beyond the nightmare of this world you trapped me in, and saw the future. Love, family, compassion, these can and WILL exist for me." I threw her back to the ground, straightening up and holding that fateful button before me, watching as the Matriarch looked up at me out of panic "But not in this life...not for Rhea Moraine." I pressed the button, the building bellowing below us as I gently reached down and picked Caroline's body up in my arms, holding her tightly to me as I stared down at the Matriarch one last time and breathed "I am free of you....I am free of my past, I am free of this life...because the life given to me was not my own, nor could ever be. I understand that now." "To live. I have to die." The ground gave away for the last time, a whirlwind of debris and chaos roaring around me as I clutched Caroline's body to me, and disappeared into nothing. When I finally awoke, I did so with a start, heaving for air and grasping at my body. I woke up on the floor of my apartment, the laptop still on. Looking towards the table, I noticed at once that my fox mask was gone, replaced by a rolled out sheet of blueprint paper, frantic, wild drawings plastered all over its surface. Limping over, my head and legs aching as well as my arms, I noticed at once that they were designs for a newer mask, unintelligible words and dimensions laid out along the margins and many aspects of this new mask circled with chicken scratch for details. There was a single word written at the bottom, large and bold, a word Alicia had jokingly called me but...I think I understood now at last how it all fit together. I walked back to my laptop, sitting before it and looking over the folder that was opened. A feeling gripped at my heart then, slowly navigating the section I had opened in my drug-induced mania, my mind scrambled and my body aching. I was right...in the end. There was no life for Rhea Moraine anymore. That woman had been created as a tool for the Blessings....she could be nothing more than that. In order for me to live, I was going to have to die. It was time for a new beginning....a rebirth, a forging of a new path onwards. I would no longer serve Alicia and Carlos as 'Rhea', as a mindless, autonomous murder machine. No...I would serve as family. Family....something I had believed was beyond me but, at long last did the truth stretch out before me. As I looked upon the folder before me...the pictures, documents, everything...the question I had been asking myself five years had finally been answered. Taking a sticky note from nearby my laptop, I wrote 'Ryan Moraine' and the address of the orphanage he was being held in at the bottom, standing and walking over towards the table. A new life meant a new start...new directions though I would continue to serve Los Aztecas...I would for the first time in my life...serve myself. But to no longer be Rhea...I would need another name. A first etching into my being of true uniqueness....a life of my own. I looked down upon the blueprint for the fox mask, at the word etched below. This was the beginning...this was the turning point. It was time to get started. Rhea Moraine is dead. And out of the ashes of her soul, rose R O J A

+1, its just the contradiction as stated above, no radio but phone? I understand the direction but the rules were in place to prevent unrealistic actions during the injured state. We can find the way, but this way isnt it

It's been a year. And we still miss you. I hope your rest continues to be a peaceful one my friend.

Still blue in the heart, still gonna be buried in blue flags and a blue dress. Was a fantastic run and I'll never forget it. And at the end of the day I feel like it ended the only way it ever could: On OUR terms, nobody elses. Good luck and keep dishing out the big smoke brother n' sisters.

Changelog 28/JUN/2020 - Reduced Morning Cellblock Inspection time to add a 'Morning Exercise block' to the schedule for more content. - Added 'Group Therapy' training concept to CMT-Psych Team to be developed and implemented.

Hello Team! Recently the Department of Corrections has made some changes that (if you've served a prison sentence over the past week or so) you may have noticed to the Prison RP scene! I've heard the complaints, the criticism, and the disgust with having to wait 2-6 hours with nothing to do and have experienced this myself both as a DOC officer and as a CRIM-side character. So to help remedy this, I've devised the 'Prison Schedule' that breaks up a 24 hour IC period into a 6 Hour ooc time block of activities, evenly spaced out to where all events of rp take anywhere between 15 minutes to 1 hour ooc to participate in and complete. For example, shower and laundry time lasts 15 minutes, while yard time can extend up to an hour. When an appropriate number of DOC is available, you'll start to see our guards interacting with our inmates a lot more often, encouraging passive roleplay to help pass the time. Now granted we understand that some people aren't going to be very 'willing' to play along with attempts at roleplay, but we strongly advise that you make an attempt! We've already received LOOOAAADS of positive feedback from both lawful and crim side players about the recent changes, and it's been reported to not only provide entertainment and a more rp-enriched experience, but to exceedingly pass the time. With the prison schedule, we hope to cut down on the following issues: RDM - Random Death matching. (Though we also do encourage you to continue to REPORT any instances of rule breaching inside the doc: AFKing, Self-Injury NRP, and RDM) Lack of passive roleplay Major amounts of afking. Now as this is a suggestion thread, I'm going to be leaving this post here for the community to offer Well thought out, constructive, and meaningful suggestions and ideas. Please be sure to offer sensible ideas to this thread, to help us better develop our prison schedule and to help us improve on our attempts to strengthen the Prison RP scene! (Obviously as a note, any rude, aggressive, unnecessary, or otherwise unhelpful comments will be asked to be removed. This thread's purpose is to help us develop an experience for YOU, the prisoner, not to start a post war.)

Do you know what today is? I clutched my arms tightly around myself, pulling them tightly to my form. A tremble passed through me, my lips only slightly quivering behind the T-shirt wrapped tightly around my head. Behind the goggles pressed around my eyes, tears brimmed and threatened to spill down across my face. It was a moment of weakness...yes, but one I would allow for this particular occasion. I wouldn't call it a 'special occasion', it being more so a horrific, traumatic experience, but it was an occasion none the less. What was today? The 7th. The 7th of May. Many years ago on this day, I lost you. Your name was Caroline Verona. You were 24 years old. You were an agent, like me. Your hair was a dark, stormy sea of brunette and raven. You had this smile...toothy, like your wolf mask, and just as sharp. You had this way of talking that just...entrapped people. I'm not sure what it was, but every time you spoke you commanded the attention of the entire room. The way you stood up for me in front of 'The Enforcers', staring into the bottomless pits that were the eyes of their bull masks, the way you spoke to The Matriarch to ensure I had a future amongst the agency... How you told me not to worry when we found out I didn't... Just like how you told me that we were going to get married, and run far, far away together. Away from The Blessings, away from Vice City, away from it all... But that didn't happen. None of it did. Our dreams never came true, our vows were never spoken. Hell, I still have them written down on a bloody index card in one of my dresser drawers somewhere. Why? Well you died, that's why. You were riddled and shot to pieces, beyond saving by the time I had gotten to you. I remember how my fox mask looked in the reflection of your terrified eyes, the way you pulled it off of me because you wanted to see 'Rhea', and not 'Red' before you made your way to whatever hell had awaited us. God I still remember it all so perfectly, so vividly...the tears that washed away the blood on your face in small lines, or the way your chest labored for breath. I begged, I remember, begged for you to tell me what to do, on how to save you. All you could do was smile...smile and shake your head. I remember the only direction you gave me, the one request. It was a single word, simple in concept and monstrously impossible all at the same time. "Live," You said, clutching onto my neck and cheek weakly with the last of your strength. "Live...." You grew still, your breath silent, and you stared...stared right through me. You died. Years later and here I was, standing over a grave I claimed for you here in Los Santos. I ensured it was empty of course...falsifying the ledger and the records of the plots to ensure you wouldn't be disturbed when I had your body exhumed and moved. I clutched my arms tighter, sniffed a few times and shook my head, trying to blink the tears away as I adjusted the bag over my back, the AK inside of it rattling slightly. This was no time for pain...no time for weakness, or mercy. This was a time of war, against the West Coast Assassins. And little did I know, the Irony of what was going to happen to me today would be something I would never, ever forget. As the Matriarch always said: "Mercy should not be expected." It was the aftermath of a large shootout against the West Coast Assassin's, a few hours later. We had been summoned to Grove again to join the others holding down the block for about the fourth day in a row. We had occupied the territory for what seemed like ages, enduring attacks in the very early hours of the morning. LSPD, the fucking soulless, mercenary fuckers that they were had been sitting just one or two blocks away, hands gripping the wheels and holsters of their guns and licking their filthy lips in anticipation to get in on the action for themselves. A chance to get involved with a gang war? To 'quell a threat to the city', to 'bring peace to the streets'? Who the fuck did they think they were kidding? Even Detective Collona, that bastard animal, had a HOUSE in that culdesac, in the middle of a gang occupied hood which I found all too convenient. I could hear Logan Cross's ghost laughing somewhere. Regardless of their presence, we still managed to maintain the occupation. The WCA had been talking the huge, normal amount of shit I had come to expect from any organization that stood against us, and like the others in the blue bound history books, they always met the same fate. The fighting to an outsider could've been called 'chaotic', 'horrific', 'monstrous'. Yeah, I suppose they'd be right to a degree. But to people like us, the ones fighting outside of society's boundaries and rules, or the corrupt penal code, it was different. To call us killers and murderers is fair, but to do so you'd have to have no qualms about calling the cops the same. You really think Philipe Sanchez doesn't smile when he runs down people in his cruiser everyday? But the cops, just like the WCA, were all fucking clueless, all fucking mouthy and stubborn and so absolutely blinded by delusions of heroism and toxic pride. They didn't know our history, didn't care. Maybe if they had taken a look at the chapters of our history they'd understand why they keep losing. It didn't make sense to me, it really didn't. Hours after the fighting had settled and we had run from 'The Grove', running out from the closing noose of the LSPD, we returned to occupy the neighborhood. That battle was devastating for the WCA, as had all the others with the exception of one or two in the early stages of the war. But that's what I expected from every major engagement. It was a pattern as much as it was a way of life. In the beginning of every engagement, the fighting was rough, dirty, chaotic. You had to learn the strengths and weaknesses of your enemy, understand how they moved, how they breathed, how they fought. After that, after you saw it one or two times...it was over. We adapted rapidly, we countered, we overcame. And in a week's time or less our enemies disappeared. Whether they dropped colors, fled the city or went into the ground it didn't matter...the end result was always the same. That's what I didn't understand...this is what didn't make sense to me. Before my time here...it was the Narcos, Vice Lords and such. After I came through that airport for the first time, fleeing The Blessings in Vice City it was The Irish, Rebels, Russians, and The Rooks. All of them, gone. Why didn't these people take a hint? All of them, standing up against us, talking shit, puffing their chests and spouting off nothing but open-ended bullshit with no backbone and no follow up. Are you deadass? Have you not SEEN, the bloodbath that we've left in our wake?! And it's not like we're being blinded by pride, but rather the fact that we've earned our right to have it, and to show it. We're still here, we're still fighting. WCA? They'll join the history books as the people who like the others, share the same legacy. A legacy of hollow words after running to the police, crying and begging for help and losing hundreds when we lose barely a handful. What a fucking joke. I pulled my AK from my bag, checked the chamber and posted up in my position. I could've been cringe and called it a 'fox-hole' but I don't think I'd have ever heard the end of it. My out-of-pocket ass would say some shit like that. I was responsible for watching the east side of the block, at the yards beyond the neighborhood to watch for an advance from Jamestown. They had attacked from there the last two times, last night being no exception. They lost, as they done time and time again. At this point we were entering what was called the 'twilight hours' of the war. We could feel it in the air, and see it in the numbers. The Dojin, WCA's allies in this conflict, had all but been exterminated at this point, and most of WCA's high command were already buried. They were all on their last legs but as with the gangs of the past, their stubbornness was turning this into a war of attrition that we were no strangers in knowing how to fight and manage. We were tired, but the thrill of extermination was something that always kept the adrenaline pumping. At this point I expected the large scale fighting to dwindle to a point where there was no longer any organization, that they would just group up and throw themselves at us. But we still had Jay Gamble, Bruce Wong, Carlos Rodriguez, and the rest of our Command Element. This war was over. This? This was just a mop-up, a slaughter, and a hunt. A hunt for the rest of them. One by one we'd find them. One by one we'd hurt them. One by one we'd destroy them. And in the end, just like it's always been, like it always will be, they will disappear. And we, we will remain. But remember when I said that what would happen to me today would be considered a bit of Irony? It was the end of the day, after a long, bitter struggle of hunting the last of the Dojin and WCA that lurked about in the city. I stumbled into my house, huffing softly and out of breath. My clothes were torn, soaked in blood and reeked of gunpowder. I shakily made my way to the bathroom, dropping the bag and pulling away the goggles and t-shirt on my face, the rest of my clothes being tossed to the floor in a trail to the door. I stood in front of my kitchen sink, staring at myself. The red face, the tear-streaked skin that had cleaned away the dirt splattered on my face. I stared into my eyes, looking. I don't know what I was looking for really, in those dumb, moronic silvery eyes. They were dilated, the rush of adrenaline having yet to leave my body, the monstrous stream of voices roaring through my head. I slowly pushed my fingers into my hair, gripping at my scalp as my face scrunched up in pain. A noise escaped my throat, somewhere between a cry and a gurgled whine of pain. It was too much...always too much. I don't know why the fuck I ever expected things to be different...why I thought I could be different. And yet...I always tried to live. To be different. To try and be normal because of you. Because of you Caroline, I tried to live and to be a decent person...by cartel standards anyway... And fuck...I hate you for it. I hate you so god damn much for it. At times, in my weakest moments, I even wish that you had never said anything the night you died. That I could've just held you, and you cling to me...the two of us just holding onto the hope that maybe, by some miracle that things would be different, that we would get this magical chance to go back in time and erase all the horrors we faced together, and replace them with happier, more sunny days. But no...you told me to live, and you died. That wasn't a request...that was a curse. You cursed me to exist, to breathe, to live. And when I eventually see you again, I'ma slap the shit out of you for it. I had an anxiety attack earlier, before I had gotten home. It was during one of the hunts, chasing down one of the WCA. I was flying through Sandy Shores with the pack when my heart seized in my chest. A series of flashes crossed my eyes and I saw it all before me so vividly, like I was there again. I was on the beach, days before the Irish War sitting on my knees before Dardan Mayor. His gun pressed against my head, his question of "Any last words?" ringing in my ears. The slicing of my flesh and the screams that echoed across the ocean when Jimmy Walsh maimed me. The time I had overdosed on Meth, trying to fly away from all the pain...only to nearly fly away from my own life. And the fact that Logan Cross tried to murder me that night, and his SWAT team just watched...how my hatred for the LSPD finally gained a solid form of justification. And again...a vision flashed with the scene of you curled into my arms, blood in rivers around us, my fox mask soaked in it just near us. My foot came off the gas and I looked around frantically, gasping for air. I swerved out of control, Jay's voice roaring into my ear as his car nearly flew into the back of mine. My wheel flew to the right, and I crashed into a street sign, kicking up dirt and debris. "Who the fuck was that?!" Jay hollered, his voice barely audible over the ringing in my own ears as I cut away the air bag and stumbled out of the Rebla. I huffed softly, looking around as blurs of Triad Red and Zeta Blue flew by. I turned my head slowly, swallowing dry sand and air down my gullet and heaved "Ricky...wait up for me" as I caught sight of his vehicle slowing down nearby. "Was that you Red?!" He asked. "You're an idiot," he declared "You are a FUCKING, IDIOT." I stumbled towards Ricky's car, slowly at first, and then faster, picking up my feet and willing my legs to move me. Idiot. The word clung to me. It fueled my anxiety and my pain. It carried me to Ricky's car, and into his passenger seat. I think he asked me if I was alright, but I couldn't be sure. Maybe I was asking myself that, but I wasn't sure of that either. Maybe, but in the end I don't think it even really mattered, or that I really cared. How would I explain it to him if he asked? How could I respond? He didn't know, and I couldn't tell him. There was no room for weakness. Mercy should not be expected. We finished the hunt, Ricky took me back to my car, and I went home without a word. The fighting was over for the day, and I needed a rest...I needed to be away. So I went inside, stumbled to my bathroom, and looked at myself. Idiot. He was right. He was always right. He had always been right. Flint had told me Jay saw me in a positive light, that I was amongst his most loyal members. I told him that I wish they didn't talk about me...that they'd focus on more important things, more worthwhile topics. I didn't want to be seen, or noticed. Anytime I was noticed it was always for some way that I had fucked up, or done something wrong, and I didn't want to be known for that. All I wanted, was to show Jay that my loyalty was unshakable, unquestionable, and ever lasting. Contradictory I know...not wanting to be seen but to know my loyalty would always be his. I breathed Zetas. I fought the wars, I did my part, and I persisted through the mockery and the mayhem of it all. I bled blue, I preached blue, and I would continue to do so until my dying breath. I would keep my head down, silent, obedient, and carry out the will of the hierarchy without question. And that was where the Irony kicked in. My eyes settled, fluttering for a moment as I gripped the sides of the sink and looked as deeply into my own dead irises as I could. All this pain...all this misery I carried in my life? It was because of my promise to you. My promise to live. I had pretended...so long to be alive, that I completely forgotten everything else. I had let that promise overshadow everything in my past. All of my failures, all of the torture I endured both physical and mental in Vice City, and to all the trauma I've experienced here in Los Santos. And that was it...that was the epiphany. I had spent so long trying to live, but in reality? I was already dead. The more I thought about it, the more comfortable the thought of it was. Maybe that was why I tried killing myself before the Irish War kicked off. I was dead. I was killed in Vice City, I was killed the night you died. I had been dead ever since...and everything past that, was just a lie to myself, a lie to try and keep my spirits up and my heart beating with laughter, with compassion. I wanted to talk to CRU, I wanted to talk to DOC's CMT, I wanted to get help, to try and get to some level of normalcy but...it was pointless. I had spent so much time trying so hard to hold onto and save a sinking ship, to steer myself away but...I couldn't anymore. And I would waste no more energy on it. My radio crackled from its place on the floor, and slowly I reached down and picked it up, placing it in my ear. We were being called back to Grove. The hunt was over and the occupation was happening again. I slowly moved my eyes back to my reflection, to the dead woman looking back at me. I took a hollow, shuddering breath, swallowed the emptiness in my throat, and moved. I moved with an energy, with a purpose, my thoughts cloudy and scrambled. I picked up my clothes, threw them back on, pulled the T-shirt back around my head and donned the goggles. I stopped as my hand touched the door handle, taking a moment to collect my thoughts and quiet my mind. I had to remind myself that there was no more room for emotion, there was no more room for anything. Rhea Moraine was dead. She had always been dead, dead since that night. There was only Red now. And besides hurting other people, there was something else that would come to be known of her, and realized by her enemies: "Mercy should not be expected."

I believe FD should have the rp for fighting the fire and investigating the causes of the fire before PD are EVER involved in any sort of investigation. Metagaming the calls PD get for house fires, KNOWING that they're player placed drug labs is absolutely absurd. I've heard peoples' comments of swat showing up even before FD does on standby to simply raid the house and take all of the items inside and I have to say that's neither fair nor balanced. Now, I'm not saying PD shouldn't be involved at all, because at the end of the day for balancing and realism it's more than likely going to be found out that a drug lab was responsible for the kaboom. But I think a huge ton of RP steps are being overwhelmingly skipped because of the current state of the tables and their approach by Legal factions. An explosion shouldn't equate to an immediate squad of 4 swat members rolling up in an insurgent packed with heavies and door breaching gear minutes after the call has shown up on the call board, because how in the absolute world did they know it was A) A criminal household, and B) An explosion due to illegal methods? How would they know without a Fire Department investigation? Why would they be so eager to enter a burning, smoldering building until it is cleared by FD for safety??? Give FD a chance to respond, enjoy their RP of combating the fire, investigating, and with a simple department call to IB or PD, a unit can easily come by to investigate the grounds for suspicious contraband or the like. The over eagerness to get in on shutting down these labs and completely dumping peoples' houses is being very clearly seen. While I agree with Osborn's suggestion on being smart about the materials or gear you leave in your house with the risks of explosion/losing it, there needs to be some help on both sides of the equation. It's in the mentality of it and the approach in terms of RP and making things fun and interactive rather than what most people describe as "PD vs. CRIM" attitude, and it does exist. I can't tell you how many conversations I've seen on both sides that are just absolutely laced with toxicity for the other side, and with this new feature there needs to be a coming together on how to improve things not just scriptly but in a ROLEPLAY sense. Otherwise, we're just going to continue to fester really toxic relations between legal and illegal factions and nobody wants to see that.

+1

+1

+1 rping the actual release of inmates through this system would be beneficial to all parties. When your time is up it, the interface can let you know how many guards there are to determine whether or not interaction is possible, and likewise notify doc when an inmate is ready to be released. Through this we could escort inmates to the evidence lockers, return their belongings, and release them from the front. It makes for a much more personal scenario which would amplify the quality of prison rp tremendously.

Current ruling from what it was last discussed is that if an inmate HAS PB permissions, you can take hostages without consent if roleplayed properly. However, if inmates do NOT have PB perms, hostage taking is at the discretion of the victimed officer if they want to rp it or not. That may have changed since it was last discussed. As far admin permissions for PB, the reason you need such is because of auto-teleporting scripts that move inmates who get too far away from the prison straight back inside. You need admin commands to release people from the prison script to continue and finish the PB attempt, in addition to ensuring the roleplay of the entire situation is up to standard in quality and interaction for all parties involved. As for number of guards, in a 'realistic' sense the prison would never be 'unstaffed', and there are outlying factors such as ooc commitments and general number of staff on the roster that plays a large role in how many guards are online during certain time periods of the day. Basically we can't guarantee the number of guards that will be available in any part of the day, and we have zero control over the Prison Break system as its at the discretion of the higher admins to allow permissions and such. Only thing I can do is encourage other avenues of roleplay besides combat and hostage based. If an admin denies your permissions for an attempt, try finding other avenues of rp to engage in until further developments to prison activities can be made.

<---- Sgt. Moraine | all of your suggestions hamin have been discussed and have been brought up to devs quite awhile ago. While we are always trying to imrpove rp theres several limitations both ic and ooc that make it difficult. While stamps are a pain rnow, unless they take away the stamp conversion upon release we wont be able to hand them out, since 1 stamp = 1$ when you get out of prison. You can imagine the abuse thatd get. Id like to bring up rdm in prison as well, stating that if people randomly punch you for no reason, admins have strongly encouraged you to report it. Its a dm breach and should be handled just as strictly in prison as it is outside of it. Also, if youre not aware theres a certain ic limitation for guards to enter or be near cellblock if theres a dangerous ratio of guards to inmates. 6 inmates to 2 guards for example. While ive wanted to try to bridge the gap between guard and inmate, its a relatively unfortunate statistic that keeps us wary, since about 80-90% of times inmates shout for us its an attempts to attack us. Now while combat rp is a guaranteed part of the job, the relentless factor of it all gets stressful to some quite quickly and many are discouraged to engage inmates further because of this. Right now the general attitude that seems to be a constant these days is "if i go into the cellblock i will be attacked and taken hostage", not in hopes of rp, or investigations, or medical rp, or general inmate interaction, but that theyll be attacked. Again, not that such a thing should be a surprise but the tiring amount of times it happens is concerning. I want to get away from the stigma of guards 'processing and leaving' and have more engaging rp but sometimes theres really only 1 or 2 guards on at a time and against 8 or so inmates you are probably not going to see them for safety reasons ic. But on this note we've noticed people injuring themselves just to get guards to the block, like running head first into walls. Its NRP and gets treated as such if youre caught so id not recommend it. I don't want to sound like im making excuses because i agree prison rp needs help, but until we can get more staffing, dev work, cooperation and effort from inmates to not just focus on hostages and rdming, change wont be easy. Its our theory that we'll see dev upgrades in the next major update, perhaps in the new year, but until then all i cam encourage is patience and understanding. I believe fixes to the poker table and stamps are being looked at as well but as with all server changes and script work, it takes time and sometimes a lot of time. Your suggestions are really good though and we appreciate them!

"They call me-" ...When I was a little girl, my mother tried to tell me that there was no such thing as Monsters. I thought I had gotten things pretty figured out, being alive for as long as I have been in the kind of life that I've lived. But oh could I not have been more wrong. Everyday I am humbled, put in my place and taught where it is I stand amongst my peers and the insane society that lords over this concrete nightmare of a zoo. I want to feel as though I'm really part of a bigger picture, that I really do matter as a person in this ocean of blue stained with pools of red... It's not been an easy road by any means...my fiance' died in my arms at the hands of those that called themselves 'Blessings'. I was betrayed by Irishmen I once called 'Brother' and 'Sister', a permanent scar drawn deep into my back to remind me of my failures, and their treachery. I even tried to kill myself. The night I nearly died, I overdosed on Meth. That night, Logan Cross ambushed the people who tried to save me, and offered to call the MD, should they reveal the location of the stash hidden away in the house that didn't even belong to them. I paid the price for trying to check out on my own by way of a coma. Since that night, I've tried to live my life in 5 minute intervals because there was no guarantee that I'd be alive for a 6th. By then I had join the Los Zetas, and my future looked...brighter, but also darker. Blood would run in rivers by the hands of myself and my new family. My trials would be heavy and daunting. I knew that I wouldn't be accepted easily, that there would be those always looking down upon me with disapproval and disdain... I endured for the man who gave me a second chance at a life, who recognized not with words but with actions and observation that I was someone who was willing to lay down anything and everything for his cause. My guns were his, my bullets were his, my life was his. He told me to shoot, I shot. He told me run, I'd run. Whenever he asked if people were there ready to support him in an engagement, I made my voice heard first. "If you're fighting, I'm fighting. I've got your back boss," is what I'd tell him. Always. And I was made one of the 'Old Guard' for it. A soldier of unquestionable loyalty. A marauder of fearless fury and unstoppable firepower. I would bring his enemies to ruination wherever they chose to rear their ugly heads, and would do as he'd say without question. To be honest I looked up to him and his wife like they were my own parents. I feared them, respected them, and would deliver onto them this city on its knees before them. Regardless of what happens now...how the others treat me, how they see me and view me, one thing is clear. It doesn't matter who puts me down, who belittles me or makes fun of me or hates me...I will still rise above and fight for my people. Throw everything you can at me, and I will remain steadfast. You can't stop me. No one can. Not the badge wearing gang members and mercenary soldiers the government has put in place here to run their tyrannical police state, not the Irish, nor the Russians, Rebels, or anyone else who dares get in my way. So before you try to cast in your lots to see if you can fair better than the last people who came after me, ask yourself one question: "Do you enjoy hurting other people?" I am a force of nature. I am a Sister. I am underestimated. I am a Zeta

+1

Context and reasoning?

He means groups that reach a certain threshold of power and numbers, like Rooks, Wanted, etc. Seaweed didn't want to be managed, now seaweed is gone. If you're a group like, 4-5 deep you're probably gonna end up in some crosshairs regardless.

I'm a writer so, maximum effort!