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Author Topic: Judge, Jury and Executioner [Open!]  (Read 626 times)

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Offline nephero

Judge, Jury and Executioner [Open!]
« on: July 13, 2017, 12:31:55 am »
[Open to Harpy Squadron members and any Seeker/Inquiry characters! Whoop whoop!]

=========================================
URGENT RESPONSE REQUIRED

As of 1822 today, a written threat has been made regarding several Pilots, most notably one of our own squadron members, Pilot Lladre Opielar. Present intelligence suggests a highly volatile target who will not be satisfied with simple threats for very long, and as such the unknown target is to be considered extremely dangerous.

Pilot Rook is in charge of safeguarding Pilot Opielar, as she is presently physically incapacitated. Commander Kiers and Pilot Hestersen are working with the Seeker and Inquiry departments to trace the source of the threats and will keep everyone updated as the situation develops.

Until this horseshit is resolved, I want a Harpy patrolling every last inch of Pilot Opielar's floor. No one reaches that level without us knowing about it, and I want any and all activity to be transmitted immediately to Commander Kiers. Pilot Voronin, you're in charge of coordinating patrols.

Until further notice, everyone is to be fully at arms at all times. This is not a drill.

-Squadron Leader Kiers

=========================================

Bracer, on. Suit, zipped. Chestpiece, locked in.

Gauntlet one, check. Gauntlet two, check. Fully loaded, safety on. Safety off. Safety on again.

Amp-feed, one, two, three. Blood conditions nominal. Pulse spiked, but that was to be expected given the circumstances. Adrenaline on standby. Spare ammo clips, check. Spare painkillers, double check.

Chance popped open the bottle, shook out a pair of chalk-white pills, and chewed them. The taste was horrendous, of course, but there wasn't anything close to the luxury of time here. Not for his knee, not for the pills, and not for this slimy sonofabitch who thought he could bring his backwater planet bullshit here.

To Aedolis. To Haviah. To his city. To his home. To his squad.

Chance's pulse spiked a little harder, his breathing hitched, and he fought the flare of rage down to a low simmer once more. Well, that was going to be corrected. Post-fucking-haste. The reports had already been filed away-- honestly, thank all the gods for Jon. Even relegated to Ministry deskwork, he still thought like a Seeker. One less thing for Chance to worry about. No doubt the traces were already underway, but considering the whole "system maintenance incident" Chance wasn't terribly sure about how accurate those would be.

Still, there was a very crucial aspect that couldn't be forgotten in this-- he did, after all, have two prime witnesses. Mohgran and Lladre, despite their protests that he needn't get involved (Really? Really? He knew he was laud back but he wasn't so laid back that he didn't take physical threats to a fellow Pilot seriously), knew what this... Hunter fucker was. Or, at the very least, they knew who to ask.

Chance's own words came back to haunt him: I'm not chasing after anyone's mother. He rolled his eyes at himself; if that's what it came down to, that's exactly what he'd be doing. Mohgran had mentioned his mother as knowing quite a bit more than he or Lladre, and if Chance had to go knocking on Mama Opielar's door to see this shit resolved, well. Chance was gonna be knocking on some doors.

Either way, it was more than enough information. Between the trace, between records from immigration, between all the little bits and bytes of data that made up every last waking instant of every last citizen's lives-- nothing escaped notice for long. Nothing escaped Chance for long.

A sudden, subtle pressure behind his eyes preluded the intruding thoughts he'd been expecting.

'Status.' It was always odd, knowing the difference between Izzy's internal voice versus her physical one. The former was always higher, softer somehow, and yet as rigid as the steel beams that made up the entire skeletal system of the Citadel itself. Chance paused in checking his equipment. He'd never been good enough to focus on telepathy and whatever else he was doing at once-- it always came out in a mad mixture of physical speech and thoughts.

'Locked and loaded. Lladre is secured with Pilot Rook, the other Harpies have been notified. Orders?'

'Get to Mohgran. Lladre is physically compromised with her wings coming in, so it'll be down to him. I'm still waiting on trace, I'll have Hestersen patch it through once it's clear. You find him before we do, make it painful.'

'Understood.' One final check, and Chance was out the door. A slight limp was all that betrayed him, but the urgency in his step and something far colder in his eyes made sure that not a single person stopped him on his way to Mohgran's quarters. Or at least, he hoped. He genuinely would not be responsible for his actions if anyone bothered him with unimportant bullshit right that moment.

Offline Nix

Re: Judge, Jury and Executioner [Open!]
« Reply #1 on: July 13, 2017, 05:01:20 pm »
((OOC: I am just going to use XX1, XX2 and so on to represent the names of each of the 4 NPC Harpies squadron members instead of worrying about actual names. But you know.. they would have names so pretend they are names XD))


/// Understood sir. Here is the patrol schedule. You have been broken into teams of two and each team will complete two 4 hour shifts a day.

Shift 1: Pilot XX1 and Pilot XX2 0000 to 0400

Shift 2: Pilot Bloom and Pilot Huxley 0400 to 0800

Shift 3: Pilot XX3 and Pilot XX4 0800 to 1200

Shift 4: Pilot XX1 and Pilot XX2 1200 to 1600

Shift 5: Pilot Bloom and Pilot Huxley 1600 to 2000

Shift 6: Pilot XX3 and Pilot XX4 2000 to 0000

Pilot Echo Rook will of course be with Pilot Echo Opielar the entire time and are to remain in Pilot Echo Rook's apartment. I will be monitoring both apartments via our own hidden surveillance equipment that Vander and I installed in the hallways outside Pilot Oplier and Pilot Rook's apartments as well as in the elevators. No one outside the squadron is to approach their doors. Anyone who tries to should be dealt with in manner best suiting the situation.

Since we know that our target(s) have access to the Pilot chat I believe it is imperative we remain active on it and causal. Do not act as if any of this is going on. No further mention that Pilot Echo Opielar is staying with Pilot Echo Rook should be made and no mention of these watch patrols should be made under any circumstance. If there is any movement or issue that requires all of us on patrol duty a 'mayday' code of 'Crap I forgot to buy chips' shall be posted in the Pilot Chat, follow up will be sent directly to our squadron via an urgent alert on the Harpies Message board.

-Pilot Cardinal Voronin ///
« Last Edit: July 13, 2017, 05:02:19 pm by Nix »

Catalina

  • Guest
Re: Judge, Jury and Executioner [Open!]
« Reply #2 on: July 13, 2017, 06:59:56 pm »
Damn he was tired but Morghan just couldn't sleep still. So he got into his gear and put on casual every day clothing on top of it to cover it up and his guns and knives. He yawns and passes a window looking into it.

He looked like complete and uder crap. Well he looked like someone who barely got any sleep for a few days in the very least, his hair was messier then usual and he had bags under his eyes. "Shit. I look like complete shit." He mumbles and keeps walking with his wings a bit more lose then usual because he was just soooo tired.

In the very least he could go out for a few minutes and come back to calm his nerves. Lladre was safe with Pilot Rook in his apartment and as far as he knew there was patrols patroling Lladres floor. That helped ease his mind a tiny bit.... But not by much.

He was a few minute in his little walk when he saw Chance. That Pilot had that look in his eye thay said, 'Dont fuck with me I am on a mission". He whistled,(Ooc: huuur Idk weather to refer to chance as Pilot Echo or just Chance! Oh well hopefully I got it right!)  "What's up Chance? What are you doing here all dressed up in your gear?" He made a slight greeting motion with his hand and speaking rather tiredly and slurred.

Offline nephero

Re: Judge, Jury and Executioner [Open!]
« Reply #3 on: July 23, 2017, 12:10:33 pm »
A cerebrovascular insult came in primarily two types, all dictated by blood flow. Too little or too much, the end result was cell death in an organ that you genuinely never wanted cell death to occur. The symptoms, like the condition itself, were absolutely horrific-- loss of sensation and control, inability to communicate or be communicated with, intense dizziness, the works.

Working so closely with blood flow, you kind of learned to be on guard for when blood flow went wrong. Aneurysms, blood clots, and their wonderful little friend, stroke.

Not for the first time in Chance's life, he was confronted with something so utterly ridiculous that he genuinely believed he was in the throes of a stroke. What other explanation was there? But no, a rapid systems check dictated that everything was still operating as normal. Well, except for his blood pressure: That shit was skyrocketing by the second.

“What am I doing in my--” he sputtered, losing his focus for half of a second from sheer incredulity, before shaking his head furiously, “are you high? Actually high? No, nevermind, don't care-- I was on my way to collect you, anyway.”

Chance sighed, hands settling at his hips and one foot jiggling in place as they stood in the hallway.

“You're aware of the threats that were made to your species, right? I didn't just hallucinate your chat tag? What in the ever loving holy hells are you doing wandering around on your own-- nope, never mind, damage done, doesn't matter-- Listen, Pilot, you know about these Hunters, yeah? You’re gonna suit up, and you’re going to tell me everything you know. That's an order.”

Catalina

  • Guest
Re: Judge, Jury and Executioner [Open!]
« Reply #4 on: July 23, 2017, 01:56:38 pm »
Mohgran heard Chance's first question. He seemed confused with the fact Mohgran was walkimg about the area "in" his casual clothes. With a few questions on weather or not he was high or not. Then came weather or not Chance hallucinated his name tag in the chat and that was dismissed also. And finally the order to tell Chance everything he knew about the Hunters and suit up. Well on hearing the suit up order and telling Chance everything he knew on Hunter that was easy. Mostly.

"Hunters came to our mothers planet to make a alliance. We have no idea where they were from or their weaknesses. Everything was fine for the first few years but Hunters multiply like flies. Within those few years they out populated us and killed our Monarch." Mohgran takes off his shirt, folds it up and sets it down thinking carefully on what else happened and fixes up his suit some before moving onto his pants.

"War broke out. We wanted revenge for our Monarch. She was beloved by everyone. They beat us within a fucking year. They killed most of the Kilaänen - think of them as soilders and medical personal. They were merciless. They tore off our wings and used them as thrilopies, tourtured us and hunted us like wolves in pits." He tosses his pants to the side, "They were perfect at blending in, when you'd least expect it you'd have on on your back tearing you apart with their mouth and those claws and you'd be dead." Mohgran closes his eyes sighing, "They eventually dwindled us down enough to treat us like livestock for their trade and trafficking. If anyone raised a finger against them. They were dead if you said a peep without permission. You were dead. You finally were expecting a baby -" Mohgran pauses looking pissed yet hiding it pretty well, "The father dies and mother is killed three years after birth - if the child survives."

Mohgran is silent for a second thinking back to the lesson his mother gave him about his blood father and how he died when she was pregnant with him on the planet, "Abilities wise they have magic that can block their brain waves sometimes and almost all of them can teleport. Hunters are like bugs mixed with a monkey and snake. They climb walls, hang off ceilings and are speedy fast like a viper and bend and twist in certain ways. You seriously have to take advantage of an opening since some of them have a venom or posion that can eat away flesh or kill you perhaps both."

Mohgran finishes taking off his top layer of clothing and is now in his mission suit loading his guns and checking his knives. Pulling them from different pockets, some hidden, others no so hidden. There were so many a normal person would think that he was a walking weapons rack. "Im sorry, that's all I know sir."
« Last Edit: July 23, 2017, 05:09:38 pm by Catalina »

 

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