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 Posted: Thu Jul 12, 2007 11:44 pm
[Echo Shae]
Although she had heard approaching footsteps, and probably should have expected them after such a scream, she did not turn to look at the person approaching her. No, the steps were too frequent to be just one, probably two instead. Yes, indeed, she could not tear her gaze from the boy, her eyes flickering from his pale, still face to his wings.
And to think, she had cried over something so silly and selfish such as her being lonesome once again, without someone for her to nurture and care for. She still couldn't fathom how this all had happened. Echo flinched when one of the two people beside her spoke. The voice made clear that he was male.
"No, I-I didn't see what happened. I just -he was here -I couldn't..." Her fragmented gibberish of sentences were not very helpful, and after the third attempt, she stopped trying. She could refrain no longer, and large tears uncontrollably fell from her eyes. They trailed quickly down her cheeks and fell on the chest of the young boy she was hovering so close.
She sniffled and wiped away one of her tears just as the second person, obviously female, spoke as well. "A...a Hunter? But, how could anyone do such a thing. I mean, he's so young...I just can't fathom how anyone with any humanity could, well, look at him! This is..." Her voice shook as she spoke, and the words came out in quick bursts rather than flowing statements. By the end of her short diatribe, she was shaking uncontrollably, holding back the sobs that were bound to explode from her lungs at any moment.
Right before she did so, she lifted the small boy from beside the tree and held his limp body in her arms. She embraced him tightly, not caring that the gesture was probably inappropriate and awkward. Again, it was as if she was trying to transmit some of her life into the small body. Her face was pressed against his shoulder, and she gently sobbed into it. I could have helped you, she began thinking to herself. If I hadn't stalled, lingered with that other person, I could have been there. I could have protected you from the awful being that did this to you. Why didn't you hold on, and wait for me to be your protector? Although her thoughts were pretty selfish considering the entire situation, one who knew Echo could probably tell that her heart was in the right place.
[Echo Shae - Level 1 - 427 Words - 4 TXP gained - 11 TXP Total]
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Posted: Fri Jul 13, 2007 9:10 am
[Alystar Crowley]
Crow had returned to the Safeway, and for the sake of being inconspicuous, was currently making a fool of himself examining a display of soup cans.
Farther down the aisle, he heard someone inhale sharply, almost inaudible, but he'd trained for most of his life and he had almost unnatural hearing. But it was nothing compared to his sense of smell, which most certainly was unnatural. Her fear was almost palpable, and it rolled off of her in waves as she strode quickly by, not giving him a second glance.
So this was the Avian.
Humming softly, the lyrics of a song half-remembered from childhood running through his mind, he picked up a couple of items (some detergent, a sponge, and a couple of frozen microwave dinners - he really did need these things, since he was a useless cook) and went to her check out.
The girl (her name tag read 'Llevyr') flinched almost imperceptibly and asked, "Would you like your things in a bag, sir?"
Crow smirked and nodded, placing the items on the conveyor belt. He could feel her eyes on him as she scanned them into the computer while he fumbled in his pocket for his wallet.
"Thirty dollars and seventy nine cents, sir," she stated politely, her tone somewhat expectant as she eyed him with thinly veiled hostility, not to mention fear.
He pulled two twenties from his wallet and handed them to her. "Keep the change," he added, grabbing his bags and walking out.
Crow could almost imagine her confused expression, and chuckled softly as he dumped the things in the back seat of his vehicle. His mother had always told him to hurry home with frozen items purchased in a grocery store so that they didn't thaw, and he lived by his parents' values, down to the smallest, seemingly frivolous details.
...
By the time he got back, it was about 10:45.
He had left in a relative hurry and had forgotten his butterfly knife, but he hadn't had the intention to kill her right away anyhow. Instead, he would monitor her, learn about her habits, until he could attack her someplace with no witnesses.
You never knew when some idiot would get it in his head that Avians weren't evil and, being the stupid ******** that they were, try to stop him from doing his job. He disliked killing other humans, not because it weighed on his conscience, but because it put him on the same level as the Avians he hated with such a passion.
The Hunter flopped onto his bed. He had all the time in the world, and he didn't see why he should feel any sort of need to hurry the process.
Absently twirling the knife about his fingers, Crow set about planning the young Avian's demise. He felt that it should be something excruciating and painful, as all of his kills always were.
[Alystar Crowley - Level One - 496 - 4 TXP Gained - 11 TXP Total]
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Posted: Sun Jul 15, 2007 11:20 am
[Greg Tovi]
As the girl stuttered before bursting into sobs, the tall man wrapped his powerful arms around her in a desperate hug, creating a fortress around her as her tears fell heavily from her delicate cheeks. His own cerulean eyes glimmered and misted. It seemed the dead boy was almost a symbol - a symbol of death and gripping danger for Avians in the world of growing hatred.
Greg's entire form tensed as one woman screamed, her sheer horror and fear wrapping around him and clinging to his mind. A shiver cascaded up and down his body. He fought against the striking urge to let out his wings, biting his lip to hold them back. His skin quivered where the wings hid, trying to keep the feathered appendages from bursting forth.
"A... A Hunter...?" he stuttered, skin paling visibly. A Hunter, here? Here in my forest...? he thought slowly, the idea taking a moment to settle into his mind. Tremors shuddered through his towering form, terror gripping his senses. There was a Hunter out there somewhere, in his forest... Like an assassin in his home.
Suddenly, blood splattered from his back, soaking his cape and littering the ground with tiny, crimson drops. His small, white wings had emerged, almost appearing as a protector for him as his apprehension grew. He collapsed to the ground with the sheer pain of them sprouting, his slender fingers gripping at the forest floor desperately. A few trickles of soft blood meandered down from his back to his bare, muscled chest before dripping softly to the earth. The dark fabric of his cape draped around him almost protectively, hanging off his slender form elegantly.
"I... m'sorry..." he mumbled, not even sure why he was apologizing. He let himself fall completely to the ground, lying on his side and panting slightly.
[Greg Tovi - Level One - 307 Words - 3 TXP Gained - 11 TXP Total]
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Posted: Sun Jul 15, 2007 6:49 pm
((Warren Kane))
Accessing Aria.net#%*99.open$eason.gymboree.gov/Search
Accessing…
Connection secured.
Negotiating connection…
Negotiation completed.
Authenticating…
Authentication completed.
Warren drummed his fingers on the terminal as he mentally tried to speed through the long, arduous process of getting indirect access to Hunter Headquarters. There was a very well-hidden backdoor to enter the system that all members of the Government Hunters knew about in case they needed to access the government Hunternet without giving away that they had a valid login and the password seals that would let them in the front door.
The secondary use of this is to give members of the Government Hunters a way into Hunternet if they didn’t have the ability to present proper seals… like Warren did, right now. His microcomputer didn’t have the processor speed or the memory to correctly and accurately present his password seal to the guard protocol, so going in the front door wasn’t an option unless he hacked his way in, which would necessitate his having higher-caliber hardware than he’d need just to present his seals.
Welcome to the Gymboree’s Muppet Ground, user WKane!
Search algorithm engaged.
Searching for user “Marcel Turncoat”…
1 User “Marcel Turncoat” found.
Connecting to user “Marcel Turncoat”…
Warren wasn’t in danger of revealing any of this information to an outsider. The display of the terminal was flashing much too quickly for a casual or even dedicated observer to be able to discern what’s happening, the system panel that is showing exactly what he’s doing and how he’s doing it existing only in his frame of vision. The cable connecting him from his cyber-jack to the terminal was the real interface, and the endless scrolling and quick exchange of screens wasn’t an unusual thing to see for someone jacked into a public terminal. Half of this was due to the fact that his login scheme involved throwing up a defensive image on the terminal screen, itself, so all it looked like was someone scrolling through a series of sites very, very quickly.
Link discovered. Execute link protocol? y/n
Link protocol executing…
Accessing Aria.netw*$.waltgovern.shermat.gov
Accessing…
Connection secured.
Negotiating connection…
Negotiation completed.
Authenticating…
Authentication completed.
The password seals to the backdoor sites and servers were much simpler, and it took more or less one millionth the internal memory to store each of them. Some of them were as simple as an alphanumeric password, while others scaled the complexity to low-resolution software watermarks. None of them phased or went in series, and none of them were the high-resolution video-audio clips that were more secure security seals. Every time an authentication was being performed, the correct seal was presented, and the series of sites and servers queuing up in his browser history would be the seal he needed to open the back door. His series was not the same one as everyone else’s; just like the front door security seals, the back door had personalized security so the net could monitor who logged in and out.
To do this normally, by hand, would take days. Even with a device like Warren’s cyber-jack the process could well exceed six hours.
He was almost there and he had only been using the terminal for half an hour, though the number of people waiting for him to get off of the terminal so they could use it kept rising. He owed his success to a program that did the entire search process for him, handed out to Government Hunters, each program as unique as the series password necessary for the user.
Warren took a sip of his extremely complicated much-too-sweet espresso drink, of the type normally acquired at chain coffee bars that specialize in the selling of beverages that are only tangentially related to coffee, his slurping through the straw making a slight noise. Despite the fact that no effort was necessary on his part for him to get into the back door of Hunternet, the process tired Warren due to its tediousness and its length. If he had his onboard computer with him, right now, he’d already have finished what he needed to do and gotten on with his job.
Welcome to the State Hunternet, user WKane. Forgot your keys?
Executing search algorithm…
Search for user “GRoquefort”…
1 user “GRoquefort” found.
Connecting to “GRoquefort”…
Quite suddenly Warren’s screen snapped from its text-only control panel to the picture of a middle-aged man with dark hair who was desperately in need of a shave. He had, this early in the day, unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, loosened his tie, and was in the process of using an inhaler that probably delivered an anxiety-free stimulant to his system. It was Warren’s Hunter profile manager, Lieutenant Gerard Dennis Roquefort.
“Roquefort. Mm, Dr. Kane, is it?” said the man in his deep whiskey-drinker’s voice, without looking up at his display. It might not have been necessary, since Warren knew that Roquefort had a jack similar to his own. Roquefort could easily be plugged into a computer off-screen, and Warren’s image was just being projected straight into Roquefort’s vision. Even with this knowledge, though, Warren could not help but feel that Roquefort was not paying attention to him.
“Yes, sir, Lieutenant Roquefort,” subvocalized Warren as crisply as he could, being extra sure to reduce any potential squeak there was in his voice. “I was notified earlier today that a new mark has been placed and that I was a convenient asset to call upon in its removal.” Warren could also not help standing (well, sitting) at some form of attention, which was his custom despite the fact that he seemed to be the only person in the Government Hunters who did so. After all, the best, most dashing heroes in the books stand at attention when in the presence of a superior officer.
“Mm. Right,” said Roquefort, still sorting through whatever it was that was outside of Warren’s field of vision. “Back door today, I see. Lose your seals?” he asked, a little derisively. Roquefort, in his mid thirties, was not entirely at home with having a minor as one of his subordinates. Roquefort had children older than Warren, and it disturbed him slightly that Warren was better-educated and better-employed than his kids while being at a younger age. Roquefort reconciled this idea with the fact that his kids could probably beat Warren to a pulp, no matter how silly of a consolation that ought to be.
“No, sir,” replied Warren. “My gear capable of projecting the security seals is currently undergoing maintenance and repair at the Headquarters machine shop. It was severely damaged in my last Hunt, which ended two days ago, if you remember my report, sir.”
“Mm. Right,” said Roquefort, again. He then looked up at the screen and stared at it squarely, seeming to size Warren up through the camera of the public terminal. Warren never understood why Roquefort did this every time he spoke with the lieutenant. Perhaps Roquefort’s memory was bad enough for him to require a refresher course on his subordinates each time they came to speak to him or raised him on the communications net. At any rate, Roquefort seemed satisfied enough to continue his thought. “You didn’t receive the data packet, Dr. Kane?” he said, attaching Warren’s honorific for when he was being official.
“No, sir,” repeated Warren to his superior. “My onboard computer is part of my busted gear. You know that, of course, from the report. I can’t access the web by myself, right now.”
“Mm. Right,” said Roquefort, once again. He began to drum his fingers on the surface of his desk, potentially mimicking Warren’s own finger drumming. “I can’t reveal the source of this information, but there are suspicious rumors floating around the Hunter’s underworld that a Counter-Hunter demonstration is going to happen. This information could easily be a ruse, but regular police forces will be tied up attempting to control this demonstration.”
“So the demonstration could be a decoy for a mark?” asked Warren, silently. Inwardly he cursed the fact that he was using a public station and thus had no security. Someone could, if they wanted to, use something as simple as Van Eck Phreaking (a technique that reads what is on a monitor using a rig of magnets and electromagnetic wave readings linked up to software that can interpret the findings and a monitor to show a duplicate of what is being seen) to get a look at his internal display.
“Mm. Precisely, Dr. Kane,” answered Roquefort. “This might be a decoy to distract available police forces from a target of terrorist assault. In this case, we suspect that at least one of the three freelance genetic facilities around Aria that are capable of reproducing Genetik results will be attacked by an Avian terrorist group. The group itself is enigmatic, and we have no concrete knowledge of its powers. What they want could be as simple as records on Genetik experimentation to materials necessary to make a biological weapon that does not affect those of Avian blood. I’ll send you images to your built-in Microcomputer. You can pick one of these three locations to go to, secure, and defend if necessary. There might be other Hunters at your location, making the total job easier.”
“I… see,” said Warren, after a pause. He had never heard of a group of Avians working together like this before, but after a bit of consideration it seemed incredibly likely that such groups exist.
“Any, mm, questions, Dr. Kane?” said Lieutenant Roquefort. Warren shook his head, and said “No questions on this end right now, sir. I might have some more, later, on-site.”
“Mm. Very well, Dr. Kane. Dismissed!” said Roquefort as he cut the connection. Warren unplugged himself from the terminal, pulled his debit card out from the payment slot, and shuffled away as one of the many frustrated people behind him in line sat down in his place and took up to using the terminal.
((Warren Kane - Level One - 1723 Words - 17 TXP gained - 41 TXP total))
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Posted: Mon Jul 16, 2007 2:11 pm
[Echo Shae]
Echo was too paralyzed by the shock, the pain, and the slicing blades of fear and torment that were slashing through her to respond to the embrace from the man to the other woman, although she caught the view from the corner of her eye. She saw it as a calming thing, the feeling of compassion, even between strangers, a feeling that soothed her inside for just a second.
After the moment of calm, the eye of the storm, she broke down. Hearing the word 'Hunter' even being repeated was like a knife to the heart. She was so horrified that she didn't even notice her arms shaking, the movement making the limp boy quiver.
But then it happened. She heard the blood splatter, hundreds of drops hitting the ground. Her head whipped around to see the man, collapsed on the ground. She went completely limp, as if she had just been petrified or frozen. The boy slowly slipped from her limp arms, softly hitting the ground, but with the sudden turn of events, she didn't seem to notice.
Clawing to his side, she marveled over his wings. She sat, remarking t the poor creature, the blood soaked ground getting crimson dirt all over the bottom of her blue dress and bare legs. A small hand reached out, wavering in front of his pained face as he lay incapacitated on the ground. No longer reluctant, the back of her pale hand softly touched his face. It was almost as if she was confirming that he was real, that this wasn't some kind of sick dream.
"It's...it's alright." Her voice shook as she attempted to speak. She wasn't quite sure why she was affirming that it was okay, because by the looks of him, he wasn't okay, not even remotely. Echo couldn't for sure confirm anything, but she wished that more than anything, it was true.
[Echo Shae - Level 1 - 323 Words - 3 TXP gained - 14 TXP Total]
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Posted: Sun Jul 22, 2007 11:28 pm
Kenneth Jackson
"Even bodybuilders have to eat."
Kenneth looked up at his aged mother, grumpy and uninterested.
"You don't have any food here on my diet. You never do."
"Well I give you allowance to go to the store and buy your own, don't I?"
"Mom, I'm thirty-one. I don't need your allowance."
His mother sighed and shook her head. He knew she felt at a loss for words, and she wished there were more she could to to make her grown son accept her help. Of course he knew how she felt. He knew how most everyone felt, and there was nothing he could do about it. It really was starting to piss him off. It was like he had a window into everyone's private lives that he didn't want to know about. There was a constant stream of too much information.
But his mother was right, even bodybuilders had to eat. Even if he couldn't eat at home because of his mother's fanatic obsession with ending animal cruelty. Ever since his father died and his mother moved in with him out of loneliness his mother was driving him nuts.
That's funny, he thought to himself. I didn't even think the word 'murder' that time. Am I already forgetting how my father was murdered? Mom would be so ashamed of me if she knew...
Before he knew it Kenneth was at the Safeway. He forgot how fast he walked when he let his mind wander. Some kid had puked in the entrance. Beautiful. Perfect continuation to a perfect morning. Wake up fighting with his mother and now this.
Suddenly, Kenneth caught ahold of a sense of fear. It was stronger than he'd felt in a good long while. He looked around and the kid at the counter was sweating bullets looking right behind where he was standing. He looked behind him and some innocent guy appeared to be studying the soup. Maybe an abusive ex-boyfriend? He looked a little old for her, but he tended to be surprised at dating habits these days. The kids just kept on getting older at a younger age, he thought. Then he realized he was sounding prematurely old. Again. He really needed to get some friends. But he didn't like knowing exactly what they were feeling all of the time around him. It was unsettling and tended to ruin relationships.
Kenneth grabbed some ground beef, rang it up on the self-scan, and went home to grill it.
[Kenneth Jackson -- Level One -- 413 words -- 4 TXP gained -- 4 TXP total]
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Posted: Tue Jul 24, 2007 9:01 pm
((Come back, Synphoniam! We need you!!!))
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