Blood and Diamonds: A High Energy Story

Oriphiel · 02-10-2015, 10:26 PM

Before I start the next chapter, I'd like to quickly thank a few people. First off, Zedd123 (aka Jade City), the plug extraordinaire who won me over to the amazing world of Funk and Disco, as well as introducing me to Hi-NRG music and inspiring this journal. Then there's Violet (Aka JustinJJustin), who kicked me until I started updating my journals again. And of course, I also have to thank Neapolitan, because he's probably the kindest and most supportive person around!

Chapter Six

Before the Blue Shirt had time to react, the glowing light in front of him let out a wave of energy as it exploded throughout the alley. His ears ringing, he slowly opened his eyes and tried to see through the thick smoke that had appeared before him. In time, the smoke was parted by the wind, and the Blue Shirt made out six figures in front of him. Five of them were standing up and stretching their arms and legs, while one was laying motionless on the ground. One of them noticed the figure on the ground, and bent over to examine them. "Well, ****," they spoke, "Gor got made. Looks like one of the shots went right through his heart." One of the figures shook their head and sighed, before saying "Well, at least we made it." They stopped and looked around, before continuing with "We did make it, didn't we?" "You mean, is this Earth?" the kneeling figure responded. The first figure nodded, and the kneeler said "Well, my calibrations were forced. You know, with lasers being shot at me and all that. But the coordinates sent by the beacon should have been accurate... we had to leave in quite a hurry, and it's possible that the beacon was too far gone to accurately transport us, but we should be in North America... or was it South America? Either way, Earth. So... yeah?" The first figure stared blankly at the kneeler for a moment, before looking towards the Blue Shirt and asking "Hey you, is this Earth?" The Blue Shirt nodded, the pain of his wounds being completely forgotten by his mind, which was now too confused to feel much of anything.

"Don't talk to the people," said the kneeler, who began to stand up. The first figure rolled their eyes, and said "I thought you loved Earth, and it's culture. Isn't that why you chose to start the revolution here, making us learn all of those human languages and customs?" "Well, yes, but... I mean, I like humans in theory, but they're covered in diseases, and touch each other far too often." The smoke had now completely lifted, and the first figure walked towards the human, ignoring the second figure's warnings. They appeared to be a female, with blue-green skin like the rest of the aliens, and had a strange type of sword strapped to their back. Kneeling in front of the Blue Shirt, she said "Hola. My name is Retix. If my understanding of your culture is correct, I am what you'd refer to as an alien. And, if my understanding of your cinema is correct, you're probably thinking that i'm about to violate you with a variety of scientific tools, or perhaps impregnate you with my offspring. However, I assure you that these fears are entirely unwarranted. You see, we come in peace." She smiled at him expectantly, and he continued to stare at her with a confused expression. Her smile began to fade, and she said "What? Heyt assured me that that was an authentic human joke. I thought..." "Heyt?" asked the Blue Shirt. "Oh, he's the one who was just talking about your various diseases."

One of the figures began to approach Retix and the Blue Shirt, while Heyt rolled his eyes and said "Oh, let's all just gawk at the human, shall we? Maybe we should touch them as well, just to really make sure that we get covered in their diseases?" The figure seemed to be a female, like Retix, although their hair was much longer and curlier. "He seems to be excreting fluids," she spoke, "which I think means he's either been wounded, recently released an amount of waste, or is currently copulating... regardless, maybe an alley isn't the right place for us to get acquainted with him?" Retix nodded, and said "You're right. Human, would you please lead us to a location that is both safe and private?" The Blue Shirt blinked, and said "I... I have an apartment," in a weak voice. "Well," said Retix, "please lead the way." The Blue Shirt stood up, and began to walk towards the metro station with the aliens following closely behind. Though they had blue-green skin and metallic clothing, not a single person on the train gave them more than the occasional questioning glance.

After they had reached his apartment, the Blue Shirt let them in and flicked the light switch. Of course, the aliens walked around his home and curiously examined everything there was to see. The curly haired alien's eyes widened as she spotted his television, and she said "No Way!" as she leapt unto his sofa and grabbed the remote. "I've learned all about these! I mean, Heyt showed us all the waves and scans he picked up, but I've always wanted to get the authentic experience...", the television flickered on to show a monster stomping through an unfortunate city, and the alien gasped and said "I can't even ****ing believe it!" She shot the Blue Shirt a glance and said "Oh, by the way, I love the exclamations and curses you humans have. **** is my favorite. It's just insanely addictive to say, you know? Just sounds so good and right. ****, ****, ****..." "So... who are you?" asked the Blue Shirt. The curly haired alien smiled, and said "Oh, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Qez." The Blue Shirt looked around nervously, and added "I'm Luke. But what I meant was... you know, who are you people? Normally, I'd just think that you're painted up disco-dogs or somethin', but that light back in the alley..." Qez shrugged, and responded with "We're just a couple of folks trying to find a home." "Don't you have, like, a home planet or something?" asked Luke, and Qez simply shook her head and responded with "Not anymore."

Heyt walked over to them, and after clearing his throat said "Look, Señor Luke, to put it very simply, we're fugitives. However, while our planet is now inaccessible to us, we're very well equipped to make this wonderful place, Earth, our new home." Luke raised an eyebrow and asked "Señor?" Heyt also raised an eyebrow, and he responded with "Yes, isn't that an authentic masculine title in America? Anyway, it hardly matters at the moment. What truly matters is that we find a way to complete our plan." "Your plan?" asked Luke. "Yes. You see, back on our planet, we were all part of the caste of nobility. However, our right to rule was denied when our people were enslaved by a certain Threx Empire that has lately been expanding throughout the cosmos. Of course, our people eventually rose up in rebellion, and we used all of our resources to find a way to relocate to another planet, one that was far away from the reach of the Threx Empire. Here, on Earth, we will make our final stand. We will find a way to claim dominance over this planet, uniting humanity under our banner as an army capable of great accomplishments." Luke shook his head, and said "Wait, what? You want to dominate us?" Heyt shrugged, and responded with "If we don't, the Threx Empire will conquer you just as they conquered our own people. Look, maybe [i]dominate[i/] was too harsh a word. I think the word lead is more accurate. We want to help humanity. We have a great deal of technology, and I know that if we collaborate with humanity we can find a way to fight our soon-to-be common enemy. So, what do you say? Will you help us?" Luke stared blankly ahead for a few moments, lost in thought and confusion. He sighed, grabbed a bottle of beer, and took a drink as he sat on the sofa next to Qez, saying "Sure."

Oriphiel · 03-01-2015, 02:19 PM

So, yeah. Aliens. What can I say? I'm writing this as I go, and all of these Hi-NRG sound effects seriously remind me of outer space. Anyway, it's about time that I wrote another entry...

Chapter Seven

The club was a blood-stained mess by the time that the fight had ended. Almost all of the Blue Shirts had run back to their territory by then, although a few weren't able to escape. Ricardo had grabbed hold of one of the stragglers and began to punch the unlucky Blue Shirt repeatedly. However, as the Blue Shirt became increasingly unresponsive to his attacks, Ricardo relaxed his grip and let him fall to the floor. He took a few deep breaths and scanned the scene, all while wiping away the blood from a cut on his shoulder. "You know," said Cleo as she walked up and stood beside him, "I think we just knocked out half the city." Ricardo looked back at her, surprised to see that she had stuck around through the chaos, and laughed as he nodded. "Yeah, seems like it. They really brought an army this time." Cleo looked around at the destroyed club and noticed a bottle of beer on the floor. The neck was broken off, but it still had a small amount of liquor in the bottom. She shrugged, picked it up, and took a drink. After finishing it off, she threw the broken bottle to the side, and asked "So, do you know why these guys came after you tonight?" Ricardo nodded. "Yeah. Earlier, John and I bopped with a few of their..." spoke Ricardo, however he stopped talking as he looked around the club as if searching for something. He wiped the sweat from his brow and asked "Hey, have you seen John anywhere?" Cleo shrugged and shook her head, before taking a look around. "I've got no clue," she said. Ricardo sighed as he helped a wounded Red Sleeve off of the floor, saying "It's all good. I'm sure he's fine."

John was a scout by nature, always cautious and observant. While Ricardo and the Red Sleeves were busy fighting for their lives, he had noticed the leader of the Blue Shirt army fleeing out the back door, and resolved to follow him. It was when Luke fell to the ground in the alleyway that John decided to approach him and finish him off. However, before he could make his move, a blinding light flashed through the alleyway, and John scrambled back towards cover as he assessed the situation. Of course, he could hardly believe his eyes when he saw what appeared to be aliens standing before him. He watched them as they conversed with Luke, and though he was in disbelief he still resolved to hold a calm sense of caution. When one of the aliens shot a glance towards him, he quietly fell back behind his cover. Though he wasn't sure if he'd been spotted, and he still wasn't exactly clear on what he'd seen, he decided to return to the club as quickly as possible.

John arrived back at the club, and saw the Red Sleeves celebrating with drinks and tired laughs. Ricardo spotted him and yelled out his name as he walked towards him. Just then, all of the lights came on as the last song of the night came to an end, and the DJ walked out from behind his turntable as if nothing had happened. "John, where were you? You didn't run away from the fight, did you?" asked Ricardo as he laughed and punched John's arm. John looked around nervously, saying "No, I stuck around for awhile. Damn near almost got killed up at the entrance. Anyway, I saw the leader of the pack trying to slip out, so I followed him." "And?" asked Ricardo expectantly. John looked at him for a moment, before blinking and looking away. "He got away." Ricardo turned towards the DJ and yelled "Night, Terrence!", before looking back towards John and asking "No way in hell he gave you the slip. So, what, did some reinforcements bail his ass out or somethin'?" John nodded and said "Yeah, something like that." Ricardo yawned as he stretched out his arms, and said "I'm sure they'll be back, and you can finish him off then. Anyway, do you know what time it is? I've got that thing tomorrow morning..." John shook his head and rubbed a bruise on his cheek. Cleo looked around, and noticed that one of the men unconscious on the floor was wearing a watch. She lifted up his wrist, and said "It's... about three."

"Alright, i'm done for tonight," said Ricardo as he walked for the door. "Yeah, me too. I need to lie down for awhile," said John. "Seeya," said Cleo. After a few steps, Ricardo turned towards her and asked "Hey, you're a writer, right?" She nodded. He smiled and said "I'll keep an eye out for your work, then. You can bet that I'll be reading it." She laughed, thinking about the nature of her writing, and replied "I'm sure you will." Before leaving the club, he turned towards her one final time and shouted "I had a good time tonight. You should come back sometime." "Yeah," she shouted back, "I might just." As John and Ricardo left, Cleo looked around for her notepad amidst the aftermath of the fight. Having found it, she walked towards the door, laughing to herself as she read the story she had written earlier.

Oriphiel · 03-13-2015, 04:07 PM

Chapter Eight

When confronted with things that challenge their perception of the boundaries of reality, people react in a variety of ways. Luke decided that the best course of action was to share a few drinks with the aliens, before falling asleep on his couch as the television played a few re-run episodes of a lighthearted show about a talking motorcycle. He woke up the next morning to the sound of construction, specifically of clanging metal and the hiss of welding, and it seemed to be coming from his apartment's second bedroom (which had remained vacant ever since his ex had moved out). Luke rubbed his eyes as he stood up, and he walked towards the commotion with sloppy and tired steps. He knocked on the door and waited for a response, however the noise from within carried on without a lull. Eventually, he turned the knob, and the smell of hot solder and burnt rubber escaped into the apartment as the door swung open. Standing before him were, of course, the aliens that he had met the night before, and they had seemingly converted the empty bedroom into a dark and cluttered workshop. Through the shower of sparks that erupted from the metal being welded and the dim glow of the strange alien machinery, Luke could barely make out the details of the large device that they were crafting. Luke simply stood there, staring into the room with an expression that wasn't quite of shock or apathy, until Qez hopped off of the arcade machine she was sitting on and waved to him. Luke nodded toward her, before asking "Alright, seriously, what is all this?" Qez started to answer him, before being cut off by Retix, who was massaging her forehead and squinting her eyes as if she had a migraine as she said "Good dawn, Luke. Right now, as you can see, we're simply following the plan." "Oh really? And what's 'the plan'? I hope it's making my apartment smell so bad that those dicks in space that're after you can't track you with their space bloodhounds, 'cause otherwise there's no excuse for you guys to not spray some freshener or something while you're working."

Retix's migraine seemed to grow worse, as she continued to rub her forehead. "There's no... such thing... as a space bloodhound," she said slowly, as if in pain. Heyt, who was typing on what seemed to be a computer on his wrist, said "Last night, as you were teaching us about human television, Tyl and Valk set up this humble workspace so that we could begin to create 'the device'. Oh, that reminds me, you were never actually introduced to each other. Tyl is the one over there with the welding gun and the red hair, and Valk is soldering microchips in the corner." Valk, who was soldering with one hand and reading a book with the other, glanced at Luke and smiled as he said "It's a delight." Tyl, who had their face covered by a welding mask, simply gave Luke a nod. "Well, it's nice to meet you," said Luke, "but, uh... where exactly did all of this **** come from?" "What do you mean?" asked Qez. Luke gestured to the machinery and tools throughout the room, saying "You know, all of this fancy... electronic... stuff." "Well," replied Qez, "we needed resources to make 'the device', and Tyl noticed that there was a storeroom with ample provisions beside this building, so we..." "Oh ****," said Luke as he rubbed his forehead, "please don't tell me you cleaned out the department store next door..." Qez smiled and replied "Don't worry about it, it's not like we got caught! You know, there's an expression from where we come from. It's... actually, hold on, i'm not really sure how it would translate to English. Give me a moment..." "No, really, it's fine," said Luke, "i'm sure it's very wise and fitting. Anyway, what's this 'device' you guys keep talking about?"

Heyt, still typing on his wrist computer, said "To put it simply, it's our only shot of defeating our enemies before they conquer this humble planet. Do you really need, or want, to know anything more about it?" "Yeah, I mean... what does it do? Is it, like, a big gun or something?" Heyt shot Luke a glance and laughed, while Retix said "Hardly. Guns are designed to end lives, while our device is designed to both save them and maximize their potential." Luke shook his head and replied "Fine, whatever, as long as you don't burn down my apartment I guess it's all the same to me. Anyway, I'm going out for a bit. My, uh, friends are probably wondering what happened to me last night, so i'm gonna go check in with them." "Wait, before you go," said Qez as she walked towards him, "I need you to show me where your human telephone is." Luke smiled and replied "Why, so you can 'phone home'?" "No," said Qez, "I don't think the ashes of my planet is accepting calls at the moment. I need it so I can order a pizza. Oh, and I suppose I'll also need some human money." Luke shrugged, saying "Sure. Just remember to put a few slices in the fridge for me." "Oh!" exclaimed Qez, "Remember that saying I wanted to tell you? I think I know how to translate it. Roughly, it's something like, 'if you worry about the past, you'll become dead fast'." "That sucks," replied Luke. "Yeah, I know, but it's the only way I can translate it so that it rhymes," said Qez dejectedly.

In a few minutes, Luke had left the apartment, and the aliens continued with their work. Each one was focused on their specific set of chores, and they toiled in silence for the better part of an hour, before Retix dropped her tools and scanned the room. "This isn't going to be enough," she said, as she nursed another migraine. Valk noticed her gripping her forehead yet again, and asked "It's getting worse?" Retix shook her head, saying "Don't worry about me. I'm fine. Right now, we need to worry about finding a way to get more supplies. Like I said, we just don't have enough." "About that," replied Heyt, "we could always use Luke to procure what we need." "He's not our slave" said Valk in a strangely cheery tone, "and we can find resources without dragging him into this any further." Heyt shrugged, saying "Maybe. But, though it pains me to admit this, his indigenous nature makes him far more knowledgeable about this planet than any of my scans and simulations have made us. Without his cooperation, we may not succeed in time." "Look, instead of plotting over how to manipulate him into finding resources us, how about we, I don't know, just ask him to?" said Qez as she began to move heavy pieces of metal from the corner over to where Tyl was welding. "I mean, he already said he'd help us." Heyt laughed and said "Why bother wrestling with the morality of manipulation, when the entire purpose of the device we're building is to..." Qez cut him off, exclaiming "That's different. There's a difference between doing what we have to do and doing what we want to do." Retix lowered her hand from her forehead and turned to face Qez and Heyt, interrupting them both by saying "It doesn't matter. We'll find a way to complete our plan, no matter what may happen. We'll ask Luke to gather supplies for us, and if he refuses, then we'll do what we must with what we have. Until then, just focus on..." Suddenly, there came a knock at the door, followed by a loud voice exclaiming "Pizza delivery!" "Nice! **** these moral quandaries, i'm starving!" yelled Qez as she raced for the door.

Oriphiel · 03-19-2015, 09:30 AM

I'm back again, with another chapter!

Chapter Nine

The sun had risen above the streets of the city by the time that Luke arrived at the Blue Shirt's main hideaway, and left a soft haze above the asphalt as the small amount of rain from last night began to evaporate. He walked past a small group of people gathered around a large boombox as he approached the abandoned building that had become all too familiar to him in the past weeks; it used to house two different businesses, with a restaurant on the bottom floor and the headquarters of an independent record label on top, and it was comprised of the kind of old, mossy bricks that seemed to sweat during the hot days of summer. Of course, there were Blue Shirts throughout the surrounding area, many of them visibly wounded from the festivities of the night before. Luke nodded to the Blue Shirts by the front door as he entered, and he was almost immediately hit by the stark contrast of the burning day outside and the cold and dark interior of the building. Though the only lights within the building were dim lamps, glowing pinball machines, and haphazardly placed neon signs, he knew the way through the building well enough to avoid getting lost. It wasn't long before he reached his destination, which was a large office on the top floor. The two guards standing watch beside the door let him in without much trouble, and he brushed his hair back and cleared his throat as he entered.

There was a man sitting at the desk in the middle of the office as Luke entered, frantically writing something down across a yellow piece of paper. "Hey, Boss," said Luke as he sat down in one of the leather chairs in front of the desk. The man at the desk let his pencil slip out of his hand as he leaned back in his chair and stared at the piece of paper with an expression of examination. After a few seconds had passed, he looked at Luke and smirked as he said "You're not gonna put a bandage on that?" Luke looked at him with a questioning glance, before remembering the scar across his face, and he raised his hand towards it as he said "Oh, the cut? It's fine. I mean, I cleaned it, and it stopped bleeding, so..." "Don't worry about it. You do whatever you feel you need to do, Luke," interrupted the Boss, "but if you want my advice, cover it up. It's almost always the little things that end up destroying you. Anyway, why don't you tell me about last night's war, specifically about why over fifty of my men decided to take up arms without my consent?" Luke opened his mouth and tilted his head as if searching for an answer, before shaking his head and saying "We got carried away. The Red Sleeves put two of our boys in plasters earlier that night." The Boss picked up his pencil and started writing again, as if a great idea had just struck him and he was trying to quickly capture it before it disappeared. Without looking up from his work, he replied "So it was a matter of revenge, then?" Luke shrugged, saying "Yeah, I guess." The Boss smiled, though he still was focused intently on his writing, and replied "Do you know why i'm the leader of this outfit?" Luke shook his head, and after a moment of silence the Boss continued. "It's because I earned it. And do you know what happens when someone gains power without earning it?" Once again, Luke shook his head. "They get disgraced, and they lose it all, because they never truly understood what power was to begin with. Last night, you led my men into battle. You tried to take my place. And though your intentions were reasonable enough, you've put us even further from attaining the revenge that you craved." "We ****ed up, I know, but..." said Luke as he nervously prodded the cut on his face. The Boss let his pencil drop once again, and laughed as he sat up straight. "Luke, there's something that I learned quite awhile ago. There is no revenge, there's nothing sacred, and there's nothing personal. In the end, it's all just numbers. All of it," he said as he folded up the piece of paper into a compact triangle. Luke gave him a puzzled look, and said "Yeah, sure. Again, i'm sorry, but there's something that I think you should know..." The Boss sighed as he fell back into his chair, before setting the triangle on the desk and flicking it into one of the open drawers of a cabinet, saying "And what's that?"

Obviously, Luke wanted to tell him about what had occurred last night, but he couldn't quite find the words. He decided to give it a shot anyway. "I, uh... well, I met some people last night. They're new to the city, and I showed them around. Anyway, they're really great with electronics, so I thought maybe they could..." The Boss interrupted him with laughter, saying "You ran into a group of tourists? Luke, what exactly is the point of you telling me this?" Luke shrugged, replying "I thought you'd want to meet them, is all. You'd have gotten a kick out of them. And like I said, they're amazing with technology. They could really help us with... you know what? Just forget it. You're right. It's, uh.. it's not important." The Boss leaned back in his chair and stared hard at Luke, saying "Look, I've got something to tell you. I'm not the kind of man that likes to do things in the shadows." Luke tilted his head and smiled as he looked around the very dimly lit office, and the Boss smiled as he continued. "You know what I mean. Anyway, I like to say exactly what's on my mind, and to always do things in the open. Being completely blunt, you damaged my reputation when you led my men into battle without first consulting me, and you further insulted this outfit when you went on to lose that battle. I've always believed in the value of respect, and to regain the amount that this city holds for me I must now take certain actions. I'm going let you walk out of this place, and in the near future i'm going to send three assassins to collect your head. By doing this, the world will know that nobody can disrespect me without expecting consequences. Now, if the assassins kill you, then obviously the city will fear my hand. But if you manage to kill them, then it shows that I've made misjudgments of talent; of the assassins, and of yours. If that's the case, then I'll welcome you back into this outfit, giving you another chance. And so the city will know that I have compassion for those with skill. Do you understand?" Luke felt a cold sweat across his skin, but tried to remain calm. "Yeah," he replied, "I get it." "Good," said the Boss. "Now feel free to leave my office." Luke rose from his chair and slowly walked towards the door, when the Boss suddenly called his name. "Yes?" answered Luke. The Boss smiled and said "Don't lose hope. When the boys inevitably open a pool over whether you or the assassins will survive the days to come, I'll be sure to put twenty down in your favor." "Thanks," said Luke in a dry voice, and his body felt the strange mix of calm and alarm that adrenaline produces as he slowly walked through the dark hideout.

Oriphiel · 03-24-2015, 10:23 AM

Sorry about the aliens, assassins and pizza. I wasn't kidding when I said that I was making this up as I go. Anyway, I think it's time to include one of my favorite bands that made waves in the late 1970's/early 1980's club scene: The B-52's! As i'm currently writing this entry, i'm listening to their debut album!

Chapter Ten

John sat alone at a dive club, the kind that seemed to stay open at all hours, occasionally taking a drink from a brown bottle of beer in his hand. Of course, John had gone home to get some rest early that morning, but he found himself unable to sleep as he simply stared at his ceiling in thought. And so he eventually found himself cooling his heels at the club, thinking about just what exactly it was that he had witnessed last night. Surprisingly enough, even at such an early hour, the dance floor was almost filled to capacity as the erratic music reverberated throughout the building. John focused intently on his thoughts as he stared straight ahead into the crowd, ignoring the occasional person that bumped into him, and as he finished off his beer he stood up and resolved to figure things out once and for all. He made his way out of the club and towards the metro station, putting on a denim jacket over his gang colors. As he got on the metro train, he noticed a few Blue Shirts scattered throughout the car, shouting and laughing as they harassed the other passengers. He thought about turning around, but wasn't keen on having to wait for the next metro train (which, at such an early hour, might not come for another half hour or more), and he quickly decided that he could avoid their attention if he simply stayed calm and kept a low profile.

Oddly enough, he recognized a familiar face as he took a seat; the girl that he had met earlier, Cleo, was picking rocks out of the soles of her tennis shoes a few seats down. After glancing at the Blue Shirts and determining that they were reasonably distracted by their revelry (most of them were gathered at the opposite end of the car, as they picked on a well dressed couple), John stood up and took the seat across from Cleo. "Hey," he said in a voice that had a tired roughness to it, and he cleared his throat to try to regain some clarity. Cleo looked up at him with a tired glance, and smiled as she recognized him, saying "Oh, hey! How's it going?" John shrugged, and replied "Good. So, what're you doing in the tube this early?" Cleo was occupied with picking out a particularly large piece of gravel out of her sole, and said "Couldn't sleep. Decided to, uh... you know, hang out somewhere and grab some terrible food. I know this tiny movie theater, early in the morning they play all of these really ****ty movies... So, how 'bout you?" John thought for a moment, before saying "Just taking care of some business." Cleo glanced up at him with a smile and a raised eyebrow, saying "Oh, business, huh? How very mysterious. Well, good luck with that. Anyway, my stop's coming up. Maybe I'll see you at that club sometime, if they ever get it fixed up again." John smiled, and said "They always do, somehow. Have fun at the movies." The metro train started to slow down, and Cleo stood up, saying "Thanks. And you have fun with your business."

Before she could exit the train car, one of the Blue Shirts stood between her and the door. He smiled as he leaned against the doorway, saying "Hey, hold on a second. You know, ever since you got on the train car, I kept thinkin' to myself that I'd seen you somewhere before. Anyway, just now, it finally came to me!" The fuzzy voice of the metro conductor advised everyone to stand clear of the doors, and they closed as the Blue Shirt pushed Cleo back into a chair and walked towards her. "Remember, at that crazy fight at the Red Sleeve's club a few hours ago? You're the girl who gave me this," he said as he pointed to a wound that had only just begun to heal. The other Blue Shirts began to take notice of the situation, and started walking towards Cleo. She took a deep breath, looked up at the Blue Shirt, and said "Yeah? I'm also the girl that gave you this," as he kicked one of his knees. He shouted in pain and surprise, and hit his head on one of the metro car's chairs as he fell to the ground. The rest of the Blue Shirts quickly made their way towards Cleo, some angry and looking for vengeance, and others laughing in surprise. Cleo stood out of the chair and prepared for the inevitable fight, and John was standing up to help her when he noticed that one was approaching from the side of the car that was behind them both. John grabbed him as he tried to push his way past, and knocked him out by slamming his head against a window (which, in a somewhat anti-climactic fashion, didn't break). The Blue Shirt closest to Cleo pulled out a knife and lashed out at her with a quick and precise slash towards her neck, and she backed away in time to avoid his attack. John jogged forward and stood beside Cleo, but neither of them quite knew how to combat the man with the knife; if either of them made a single false move, they were both likely to die then and there.

Immediately after the Blue Shirt took another controlled slash at the two of them, John sensed an opening and attempted to quickly duck beneath his arm and tackle him. The Blue Shirt stepped back and managed to push John to the side, cutting a nasty gash into his arm as he collided with the chairs at the side of the car. Cleo took advantage of the chaos of the moment and kicked the Blue Shirt between his legs, following up by punching his nose. He fell in a heap towards John, who grabbed for the knife in his hand, and the rest of the Blue Shirts leapt forward into the fight. Cleo grappled with them, managing to elbow one in the jaw, but she was clearly outnumbered. After taking a few heavy punches to the stomach and face, she fell backwards. John got to his feet, gripping the Blue Shirt's knife, and he slashed angrily into the back of one of the men attacking Cleo. The wounded Blue Shirt screamed as he fell forward, and the rest of them backed away as John lifted his knife towards them. "You alright?" asked John as he glanced down at Cleo. She wiped away the blood escaping from her nose with one hand, holding her bruised stomach with the other, and said "Yeah, i'm fine," as she stood up. The metro train began to slow down as it reached another stop, and John and Cleo kept their eyes on the Blue Shirts as they made their way towards the door. They stepped onto the platform, and finally began to relax once the train's doors had closed. At first, both of them weren't quite sure what to say to each other, but eventually they both simply started to laugh. "Jesus," said John as he grabbed the cut across his arm, "I thought I was ****ed for sure that time."

Cleo gave him an incredulous look, still laughing as she said "Oh, come on! Didn't you just take on, like, fifty guys not more than a few hours ago? These guys should've been a cakewalk for you!" "Yeah, I know, it's just... I don't know, when he pulled out that knife I just choked. Usually weapons don't bother me at all, I try to keep calm, but when I ****ed up trying to tackle him I seriously thought that was it. If you hadn't kicked his sack..." Cleo began to laugh even harder. John looked at the large fixed-blade knife in his hand, and began to look at himself for an inconspicuous place to put it. He thought about hiding it in his waistband, but didn't want the bare blade slicing into his thigh. As the two of them walked down the platform, he settled for sticking it into one of his boots. "Well," said Cleo, gripping her stomach as if her laughter was causing her pain, "where exactly are we headed? A clinic?" John smiled and replied "Well, i'm heading for the Blue Shirts' main HQ, doing some recon. You can join me if you want, but it might get nasty..." Cleo stopped and said "Are you serious? You barely managed to take on, like, five or six of them just now, and we're both all kicked to **** with cuts and bruises. What're you going to do if you, I don't know, get caught?" John thought for a moment, before replying "Die horribly?" Cleo smiled and rolled her eyes. "Alright," she said, "I'll tag along. And since you're such a gentleman, I'll let you pay my medical bills afterwards." "Done," replied John through a smile, and the first few rays of the morning sun made their way towards the city as the two of them stepped down the stairs and off of the platform.

Oriphiel · 05-19-2015, 01:02 PM

I'm back again, and it's time for DISCOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Chapter Eleven

Cleo and John walked through the street in a nonchalant fashion, although they were still ready for any trouble they might run into. After all, some of those boys back in the metro train might have used a pay phone to call ahead and issue a warning to the rest of the pack. So far, however, they seemed to be in the clear, as the few Blue Shirts that were awake and about at such an early hour seemed to ignore them without so much as a second glance. Both Cleo and John had been nursing their wounds since the previous battle, and eventually they decided to visit one of the seedy clinics half-hidden throughout the city. Such places weren't entirely uncommon in areas with heavy gang activity; where a profit stands to be made, businesses will inevitably spring up, and the people of this city had need of a place that would patch them up without asking questions, for a fee of course (and much lighter than the debts that a person might incur at a legitimate hospital). To find shelter in this unfamiliar part of town, they asked directions of a homeless woman reclining comfortably on a couch that had been set out on the sidewalk, and a few dollars later they were heading in the right direction.

John and Cleo walked cautiously past a Blue Shirt as they scanned the streets. At the entrance of a nearby alleyway, a "+" had been written on the brick wall in red chalk. "There," said Cleo, as she nodded towards it. "Yeah," answered John, tightly grasping the cut across his arm as the two of them entered the alley. Cleo stretched out an arm as she walked onward, running her fingers across the bricks of the wall beside her; they were shiny and smooth, still wet from last night's rain and the few drops that were continuing to fall. "Think it'll keep on?" asked John, looking up at the sky. Cleo shot him a glance over her shoulder and shrugged, saying "I don't know. Hold on, let me check my pocket shaman." John looked at her with an incredulous expression, and she rolled her eyes and continued "Nobody gets my humor..." Before long, they had reached a cramped stairwell that seemed to tunnel into the side of the alley, leading to a small green door at the bottom. Across the door were two signs; the first was a faded antique that said "Tender Love and Care", and the sign beneath it had "No Trades. $ or Fuck Off" scrawled bluntly across it. Cleo smiled widely as she looked at the green door and briefly played with the antique sign, saying "I love it! The little mom-ish antique, the paint job, the tiny knob, the warning sign that looks like a three year old wrote it with a crayon... it's a-door-able." She looked at John as her smile became a smirk, asking "Get it?" John rolled his eyes, and he leaned past her and turned the doorknob as the door slowly opened with a creak.

The two of them found themselves in what was essentially a basement. Underneath the dim glow of a few lightbulbs hanging off of the ceiling from simple wires, a small group of people were going about their business. A few were rummaging through various bags and boxes, while others tended to a wounded man that lay unconscious on a cot. A man sitting on a crate and smoking a cigarette looked up at John and Cleo from the magazine he was reading. He set it down, nodding his head towards them in acknowledgement as he asked "You lot need some work done on you?" Before they could give anything other than a brief answer, the man had hopped off of the crate and started looking them over. He quickly grabbed John by the shoulder and led him and Cleo towards a few empty cots, taking a long drag from his cigarette before throwing it to the ground and extinguishing it with his foot. "It's just a few scratches," said John as he was basically forced unto a cot. "Speak for yourself," said Cleo as she rubbed her ribs. She untucked her shirt and slowly lifted up the bottom, revealing an abstract painting of reds, yellows and purples across her lower torso. "Fuck," she said through a nervous laugh, "didn't expect it to look like that. In the movies, people get beat to hell and back, and yet they always seem to walk away with just a few little nicks here and there." The man set down John's wounded arm and examined Cleo's ribs, eventually saying "It looks much worse than it actually is. Your ribs don't seem to be broken, which is very good; shards of bone are nasty little fuckers, tearing up organs and such. When did this happen?" "Well, we've been walking around for awhile... I think the fight happened maybe twenty minutes ago?" answered Cleo. The man responded "Then your stomach probably isn't punctured, else you'd be either dead or screaming. There's definitely internal bleeding, though, that's for damn sure." He stopped and ran a hand through his hair, saying "Yeah, I can deal with most of this. Easy. $50. You got it?" John and Cleo nodded, and they both went through their pockets until they had collectively amassed the amount.

As he grabbed a few supplies and started to clean and stitch up their cuts, starting with the wound on John's arm, he began to sing a few folk tunes in a low and quiet voice, almost as if he was simply humming. In a short amount of time, he had patched them both up. "Is there anything I can do about this right now?" asked Cleo, with a hand on her ribs. The man glanced at her as he clipped the last piece of suture, and shook his head and shrugged, saying "Not really. Get thee to a hospital." John raised an eyebrow at the man's choice of using the word "thee", but he figured that he was probably quoting something. When the man had finished his work, without so much as saying another word he left the two of them and sat back on the crate, lifting up his magazine after lighting another cigarette. John and Cleo stood up and collected themselves, before leaving the dank clinic. Outside, the sun had climbed a bit further into the sky, flooding the city with even more light as it continued to rise. The two of them continued on their mission, making their way towards the Blue Shirts' headquarters. As they drew closer, John stuck to the shadows and scanned the surrounding area, eventually deciding to spy on the hideout from a nearby abandoned building. As he peered at the hideout through a foggy window, Cleo rocked on her heels and asked "Well, we're here. So... what's the plan, again? Just walk right in and get the shit kicked out of us? Or maybe we could keep gawking at them from the shadows like a bunch of fucking peeping toms until they start conveniently shouting out all of the details of their evil plans for us to hear?"

"I know," said John, sighing, "we're probably wasting our time. But I wanted to get a look at things, you know, maybe find a way in. If you don't look, you never find out." "Well, we could steal some disguises, right? Beat up some Blue Shirts and take their, well, blue shirts," asked Cleo. John shook his head, saying "I don't think so. That kind of shit only works in the movies. They'd have to be pretty stupid to fall for it." Cleo tilted her head and bit her lip, replying "Yeah, maybe. But I think you're greatly underestimating how stupid real people can be. You know, I used to sneak into places all the time, kinda a hobby of mine. And I found that if you just act like you belong, and look like you belong, then pretty much nobody will question you." John rolled his eyes and laughed briefly, saying "You know what? You've convinced me. I mean, it's probably our only option at this point anyway. But I should probably mention that the Blue Shirts know me. After you kick the shit out of people enough times, they tend to remember your face. And I wasn't exactly a background figure in last night's battle. They'd remember me." Cleo put a hand to her chin and thought for a moment, before shooting John a sly smile. "The Blue Shirts have female members, right?" she asked. John nodded, and replied "Yeah, a few. Why?" "Well, they'd definitely remember a Red Sleeve like you, but they probably wouldn't recognize me. I could do some skulking around, no problem." John shook his head, replying "No way. If that guy on the metro managed to remember you from last night's battle, then chances are that someone else will." "Oh, come on," replied Cleo, smiling, "that was just one guy, and the only reason that he remembered me was 'cause I messed up his face. Other than that, I really didn't get involved with the fight beyond a few punches and kicks here and there, so I doubt that in all of the chaos anyone other than him would remember my face." John thought about it, shaking his head slightly as he looked down and exhaled. "Face it; i'm the only shot you've got of finding out whatever it is that you're trying to learn from spying on the Blue Shirts," continued Cleo. Though her voice was confident, her eyes were narrowed slightly as if she was tired or in pain, and she was rubbing her ribs with one of her hands. John looked up at her, noticing her discomfort, and asked "You sure you're up for it?" "Yeah," said Cleo, lowering her hand from her ribs, "definitely. Like the doc said, it's not so bad. I'll take care of it later."

A few minutes later, the plan was being carried out with masterful skill. Wearing the clothes of an unlucky Blue Shirt who happened to be taking a leak in the alley beside the abandoned building (who was, after being knocked out, locked in one of the abandoned building's rooms), Cleo walked into the hideout with an air of confidence. Just as she had thought, almost nobody gave her any trouble at all, save for a sentry near the front door. "Who the fuck are you?" he asked, putting his hands on his belt as he scanned her up and down. "Cleo," she responded. The man shook his head, and replied "I didn't ask for your name. I asked who the fuck you were. Let me guess... a new blood, right? Some asshole's little sister, looking to prove herself?" Cleo narrowed her eyes. "It's none of your fucking business, but yeah, I guess I am. My brother's John," she said, figuring that one of the Blue Shirts had to have that name, since it's pretty popular in this story (two people have that name so far, and counting). The sentry laughed, saying "First of all, it is my business. Everyone and everything that comes through that door is my business. And secondly... John (make that three)? Really? That fucker can't even lift a match without breaking a sweat; I can't even imagine how pathetic his sister must be." Cleo sensed that a display of strength was called for, and so she punched the sentry in his nose, sending him to the floor. "Don't ever talk about my brother like that. And, more importantly, don't ever talk about me like that. You hear?" The sentry quickly got back to his feet and rubbed his nose, saying "Damn, girl! You're lucky i'm a gentleman, otherwise I'd make you pay for that cheap-shit sucker punch. Anyway, you're a hell of a lot stronger than your brother, that's for damn sure. You keep on laying people flat, and filling out that blue shirt as well as you do, and I'll be glad to see you stick around for awhile." Cleo stuck to her rough persona and ignored him, brushing her way past a few Blue Shirts as she ventured further into the hideout.

Oriphiel · 06-26-2015, 01:36 PM

We're now twelve chapters in, and yet a coherent plot has yet to be revealed! Honestly, I don't really know where i'm going with this weird tale of blood and diamonds, but i'm determined to see it through to the end. Or at the very least, I can satisfy my curiosity as to just how far I can get before it becomes too convoluted to salvage. As always, if anyone has any questions, comments, or general feedback, feel free to scribble your thoughts on a paper airplane and throw it my way. You have my apologies in advance for any hilarious errors, typos, or plot-holes you may find throughout my entries, as I have an awful habit of not catching those until days (or even weeks) after posting them.

Chapter Twelve

Cleo was making good time as she navigated her way through the dark hideout, running into relatively few problems. However, every step she took seemed to make her feel progressively worse, as her wound continually flared up in a strange mix of numbness and sharp pain. More than anything, she wanted to find a bed to collapse in, preferably in a genuine hospital, but her curiosity drove her onward. Figuring that the most well defended place in the hideout held the most valuable information, she turned her attention to a certain hallway where two guards were posted, and became determined to find out what was behind the door they were standing beside. Her mind raced with plans and possibilities as she thought of how to get past the two guards. Luckily for her, she didn't have to do a thing; the door swung open, and a man walked out of the room with a distressed demeanor. As he began to walk towards the corner around which Cleo was spying on the guards, she quickly started to withdraw from the scene. However, as she turned to leave, she felt a wave of unease fall upon her. She felt more tired then ever and held back the urge to vomit, all while trying to evade the man walking towards her (who would probably ask her who she was and why she was snooping around the guarded and obviously important room down the hall, and she was currently in no shape to fast talk her way out of trouble). Her fears soon disappeared as the man turned the corner and proceeded to walk right past her without noticing her in the slightest, obviously distracted by something he was tossing around in his mind. Cleo was about to sigh, however as her urge to vomit had returned she suspected that she'd probably end up releasing more than just an exhalation.

She took a few steps back and sat down, pressing her back to the wall and putting her hands on her forehead as she tried to relax. As she did so, she began to hear the guards around the corner talking in low voices. She leaned towards the corner and listened intently: "I don't think so. No way. He's one of the best, you know? I've got no doubt in my mind that he'll pull through." "Oh come on, man. This dank fucking falling apart hideout smells bad enough without you throwing bullshit around. You heard the same as I did; the Boss' three best assassins are on his ass now. He's got no chance." "Did he say three? I thought he said two. Either way, Luke'll beat 'em just like he took down the Jones brothers last year." "Fuck the Jones brothers. And yeah, he definitely said three. I mean, come on, this door is so fucking thin i'm surprised you couldn't hear the fucking beads of sweat hitting the floor." Before the other guard could respond, a voice from behind the door said "You're quite right; the door to my office is rather thin. After this business with Luke is taken care of, I think I'll replace it with something that has a bit more heft to it. That way, I won't be able to hear your screams when you're being mercilessly tortured down the hallway." Both of the guards straightened up, and one of them was deeply frightened by the Boss' words. The other guard shot him a reassuring smirk and said in a very low voice "Don't worry, man. Even if he changes the door, the walls are still thin as fuck. He'll hear our screams just fine."

Cleo stood up and pressed a palm into her forehead. While she was still in pain, she now felt slightly better, and started to take a few steps. She figured that if she could catch up with Luke and follow him without passing out, she might have a chance to make this mission worthwhile. After all, a Blue Shirt being hunted by his own people could easily be persuaded to switch sides. Her steps became quicker and more solid as she looked around for Luke, and she eventually found him near the entrance of the hideout. He was sitting at a sort of make-shift bar, a beer in his hand. Cleo nonchalantly moved through the crowd of Blue Shirts, trying as hard as possible to mask her pain as made her way out of the hideout, looking at Luke one last time before she walked out the door. She figured that he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, and tried to relax as she walked down the street. After stepping out of the Blue Shirts' line of sight, she brought her hands up to her ribs and lifted up the bottom of her shirt. Just as she expected, her wound looked much worse then before, and she now suspected that it was more serious than the "doctor" at the clinic had led her to believe. All she could do now was hope that none of her organs were damaged, and carry on until she could get to a hospital. She reached John's location and shot him a fake smile as he waved to her. He almost immediately noticed that she was nursing her ribs, and stepped forward to help her. "What happened? Did you get in a mix, and have to fuck someone up or something?" he asked. She raised an arm and replied "No. Well, I guess I did fuck up one guy's nose. But this is just from the fight on the metro."

John narrowed his eyes and said "I thought the doc said it wasn't too serious?" Yeah," replied Cleo, "he did say something like that, didn't he? But while the first part of his advice wasn't all that great, I think the part when he recommended that I get to a hospital still has a ring of truth of it. Anyway, before I fall down and vomit to death or something, I've got some news. There's a guy having some drinks in there, Luke, who apparently pissed off his gang. Their boss is sending assassins after him. If you can get to him, I figure you've got a good chance of getting him on our side." "Sure," replied John, "just tell me what he looks like. I'll watch the hideout, and when he leaves, I'll tail him." Cleo nodded, saying "Yeah, alright. He's, uh... well, he's got a few cuts on his face, around one of his eyes. He's got brown hair, some stubble, and..." John's eyes widened when she mentioned the cuts, and he eventually cut her off (pun intended), saying "That's enough. I think I know him. In fact, he's pretty much the reason why I came out here. Right after that war we had with the Blue Shirts, I saw something of the most supremely fucking odd variety, and he's got the answers I need." "Well, that's fantastic," replied Cleo. "Anyway, I think my job here is done. I'm off to find some medical attention. Have fun." "Do you need any help?" asked John. "No," said Cleo, "I can make it. I feel like shit, but honestly, I feel better than I did back in the hideout. Right now, i'm more worried about how much the hospital is gonna charge me." John laughed, and replied "Don't worry about that. When this is all over, just tell me how much they put you back and I'll take care of it. After all, a deal is a deal." "Just don't make me bring a receipt," said Cleo as she walked away, "I always fucking lose those things." As Cleo left, John turned his attention to the hideout, and waited patiently for Luke to emerge. However, just then, there was a banging noise coming from nearby. "Let me out!" shouted the Blue Shirt that John and Cleo had knocked out earlier, as he banged on the locked door of the room they had left him in. As the clanging and shouting continued, John quickly walked over to the room and opened the door. A well placed kick later, John was back at his post, focusing intently on the door of the hideout down the street.

Oriphiel · 06-29-2015, 12:47 PM

I don't feel that great right now. It's times like these that I need something to distract myself with, so I guess it's time for some more ridiculous Hi-NRG and nonsensical writing. Here's a super cheesy yet oddly catchy song that I stumbled upon awhile back, along with a gloriously bad music video.

Chapter Thirteen

The aliens were continuing with their work in Luke's spare bedroom, save for Qez, who was searching through cabinets in the kitchen with one hand and holding a beer in the other. The other aliens dripped with sweat as they kept up their tireless pace in the hot apartment, and they took a few moments now and then to consume a type of flavorless nutrient paste provided by Heyt. Valk set down his soldering gun and wiped his brow, leaning back in his chair as he stretched and yawned. After quickly swallowing some of his ration of nutrient paste, he turned his attention towards the open door of the room. "Hey Qez," he shouted, "you alright?" Qez briefly glanced over her shoulder, before continuing her rummaging. "Uh, yeah. I feel a little better," she replied. Valk picked up his soldering gun, and before getting back to work said "Well, take as much time as you need. That was a pretty nasty fall you took. How's your arm feeling, anyway? Still too sore to start hauling again?" Qez looked down at her arm, which she was using to pry open the bottle of beer. "Uh, yeah. Still hurts like a fuckin' son of a dog. I'll be fine, though, just give me..." she stopped and flipped through a TV guide, looking at what was on today, and she noticed a few good shows coming up soon. "Ooh, nice," she whispered, before looking up towards the spare bedroom and continuing "Give me like, two hours, alright?" "Sure," replied Valk with a smile. As he continued soldering, he once again picked up a book with his free hand, the cover and pages of which were now warped by his sweat, and continued where he had left off. A delicious sandwich in hand, and a television in front of her, Qez yelled "Thanks. Hey, you guys make sure to enjoy that nutrient paste, alright?" Retix looked towards the doorway and gave a weak smile, amused yet obviously still in pain from her ceaseless headaches. She and the other aliens knew exactly what Qez was up to, yet they humored her and played along with it. After all, Qez was the youngest of them and tended to be treated with leniency, especially since her experiences during the war were the worst of all of them. Retix brushed back her hair before starting to work again, and shouted "Are you sure that you don't want us to save any for you?" "Oh yeah," replied Qez, lifting up her sandwich. "I'm sure."

After having a few drinks and clearing his head, Luke stood up from the bar and prepared to leave. He wasn't too worried about being gunned down where he stood; he knew how the Boss' assassins handled their targets, and that they almost never carried out hits while inside the Blue Shirt's hideout. The Boss liked to have such things handled privately, away from where he did business, in a place where there were no Blue Shirts around with old loyalties who might feel obligated to jump into the fray. Though he rather felt like being alone as he walked back to his apartment, he was joined by an old friend of his, who he ran into in the street outside of the hideout. "Luke!" he shouted, sitting on the steps to an apartment building with a few other Blue Shirts. After Luke nodded towards him in acknowledgement, the man threw away the cigarette he was smoking and jogged towards his friend. "Hey, Luke! You alright?" he asked as he caught up to him. "Yeah," replied Luke, with his gaze fixed to the asphalt. "I'm good, Dave. It's just been a shitty day, born from a shitty night, you know?" "Yeah," replied Dave, "I heard about that shit that went down last night. And judging by the word on the street and that cut on your face, it seems like you really have been gettin' the shit kicked out of you lately. But that's old news, man. I mean, the universe is always tryin' the beat the hell out of you. Remember the Jones brothers, how they ambushed and almost gutted you? But no matter what shit gets thrown at you, you always make it through in the end." Luke glanced towards him and somewhat abruptly said "The Boss put out a hit on me." Dave's eyes widened slightly and he nodded his head, a grin appearing on his face. "No shit?" he asked with a air of excitement. "No shit," answered Luke. "Damn, that's fuckin' awesome, man!" shouted Dave. Luke looked at him and smiled back through a confused expression, saying "Well i'm glad someone is getting a laugh out of my impending doom." Dave stretched his arms and replied "No man, it's not like that. It's just... after you take out those assassins, your reputation is gonna hit the clouds! Nobody's ever gonna fuck with you, test you, ever again." "You're really that sure that i'm gonna get through this alive?" "No doubt in my mind, man. Not a single fuckin' doubt."

Of course, John wasn't too pleased about the arrival of Luke's friend. His plan was to confront Luke a few blocks away from the Blue Shirt's hideout, when he was seperated from anyone in his gang that might be watching, and question him. In fact, after learning from Cleo that the leader of the Blue Shirts had put out a hit on Luke, John had hoped that he might even be able to convince him to join the Red Sleeves. A former member of high ranking like Luke could show them where most of the Blue Shirt's illicit operations were located, helping them to take out all of their sources of revenue, and also assisting them in the inevitable war between the gangs. But most importantly, John needed to know about the aliens. Did they actually exist, or were they just a hallucination? And if they were indeed real, then what exactly were they doing on Earth? He followed Luke and Dave in the shadows, waiting for his chance. As the two approached the building where Luke's apartment was located, they stopped and continued to talk beside the building's steps. Meanwhile, a street musician was playing a saxophone, and Dave made a few gestures to let him know that he wasn't impressed by his music. After a short amount of time had passed, the two friends went their seperate ways, and John prepared to follow his quarry. Luke walked up the steps and prepared to open the door to the apartment building, when he stopped in his tracks. After thinking for a moment, he turned around and walked away. John wasn't too surprised at his erratic behavior; he figured that Luke was starting to become paranoid of being ambushed by his would-be assassins. Following with as much stealth as possible, he watched as Luke climbed up the fire escape and crouched outside of a certain window. After scanning the inside of the apartment, Luke sighed with relief and knocked on the window pane. At this point, John had been hoping that what he had seen last night was simply the result of a tired mind and too many punches to the head, however a shiver ran across him as one of the aliens appeared on the other side of the window. Luke pointed to the latch and gestured which direction for the alien to pull it in, and the window was soon opened. Luke stepped into the apartment and closed the pane behind him, latching it shut. Of course, John wasted no time in silently making his way towards the window, crouching as he carefully looked into the apartment.

"How did it go with your friends?" asked Qez. Luke rubbed his eyes and shook his head, replying "Not that great. They, uh... well, they're sending some people to come and kill me." Qez smiled, and said "That's wonderful!" Luke looked up at her in disbelief. "Why is everyone so happy about me getting filled with bullets?" he asked, putting a hand to his forehead. "Oh," said Qez, noticing Luke's stress and patting him on the back, "I didn't mean it like that. Your death would certainly make all of us stop and pause for a moment of reflection, maybe even for a whole minute. Anyway, your situation is good news because it puts you in a position where you would benefit from assistance. As we have been meaning to ask for your assistance in a certain matter, we now have the opportunity to fairly exchange services with each other." Luke looked at her with a questioning expression, asking "You mean, I help you aliens, and you all help me?" Qez nodded. "I already said I'd help all of you out," said Luke. Before Qez could respond, a voice to Luke's side said "You did, and you have helped us considerably by giving us a place where we can work in peace. However, we require more from you." Luke turned to face the speaker, recognizing the voice as belonging to Retix, who was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. "How much more?" he asked. "I'm afraid that our device needs considerably more resources than we currently have, and many of those necessary components are somewhat difficult for us to find as we are newcomers to this world. We need natives to assist us." "Natives?" asked Luke. "Yes," interjected Heyt, who had just stepped out of the spare bedroom. "We need people, and as many as possible. Do you, by chance, have any friends that don't want to kill you?" "Yeah," replied Luke with narrowed eyes, "I do. In fact, if I survive this attack, I'll have the whole gang on my side again." "Splendid," replied Heyt, though he sounded more tired than excited. "Consider it a deal, then. We'll protect you, in exchange for access to these friends of yours." Luke scratched his head, and said "Uh, well... it's not that simple. They're not just gonna run a bunch of errands for me unless I can..." Suddenly, he was interrupted by a knock on the door, and a voice exclaimed "Pizza delivery." Luke looked at Qez and sighed as he began to walk towards the door, however she quickly put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him. "Uh, Luke? I didn't call for a pizza," she said. The doorway exploded in a cloud of splinters, sending Luke and Qez to the ground. A woman rushed into the apartment with a smile on her face and reckless abandon in her heart, as well as a shotgun in her hands. Luke crawled backwards behind cover, and made his way towards a pistol that he kept in a drawer. He could tell that she was wearing bulletproof armor underneath her clothes, and he knew that probably nothing short of a bullet to the head would be sure to put the assassin down.

Qez quickly got to her feet and rushed the assassin, who sent her back to the ground with a powerful shot to the stomach. Snapping the lever action of her shotgun down and up as she turned, the assassin fired another shot towards Retix and Heyt. Though the shot hit them and stopped them for a moment, they seemed relatively unharmed. The assassin wasn't startled in the least by the appearances of the aliens or their durability, since she had already seen firsthand that a well placed blast could send them backwards just as it would to a human. Unfortunately for her, Qez was far from dead, and the angry alien got to her feet and quickly closed the distance between her and the assassin. Luke opened the drawer, but found nothing inside. He quickly realized that someone (Qez) had gone through almost every drawer and cabinet in the kitchen, carelessly throwing the contents around as if looking for something (food), and he began to look around for wherever the gun might have been placed. Qez rushed the assassin and grappled with her, eventually slamming her against the wall. The other aliens, who had been working when the assassin attacked, were now joining the fight as well. The assassin collected herself and fired off as many shots as she could, now frantically fighting for her life. The aliens were much more powerful than they looked, and Qez broke one of the assassin's arms with relatively little force. Using her last bit of energy, the assassin fought off Qez, Retix, and Heyt, using her final shot to get them off of her. This time, the shot didn't simply push them away from her; the blast also left Qez with a wound in her side. The assassin used the opportunity to dash for the door. However, just before she could escape, Tyl lifted up some sort of alien weapon and fired an energy blast towards her. The assassin was knocked off of her feet, hitting a wall before hitting the ground. Her right hand and the majority of her right leg seemed to vanish, and the whole right side of her body was littered with burns. It was then that Luke found his pistol, tossed haphazardly into an empty bag that once contained chips. No longer having a need for it, he left it there, and stood up as he looked around the apartment. Qez noticed him looking at her wound. She looked down and pressed her hand against the bleeding injury, commenting "Damn shield needed time to recharge after taking that first shot dead on." "You'll be fine," spoke Retix, as she and the others helped her into the spare bedroom, presumably to perform medical procedures. Valk, however, stayed back from the rest of them, and knelt down over the assassin. "You okay?" asked Luke. "Thinking," replied Valk. After a few moments, he bent forward and picked up the assassin, who seemed to still be alive, carefully carrying her into the spare bedroom. Luke rubbed his eyes for awhile, before reluctantly following the aliens into their workshop.

John had witnessed the entire event, and didn't quite know how to proceed. He could confront Luke and offer to help, but they might take him for an assassin and kill him out of caution. Besides, he had no idea what the motives of the aliens were, only that he had overheard them saying that they needed more resources and humans to help acquire them. Unbeknownst to him, he was not the only person watching the scene from afar; there was a man in a room in a building across the street from Luke's apartment complex, spying on the events with binoculars. "Fuck," said the man as the fight came to a close. He shook his head, saying "Goodbye, Sam. You always were too fucking reckless." "We should have attacked at once, Stan, like I recommended," said a voice behind him. Stan laughed, replying "No, because that would have been the smart thing to do. Sam always had to try her best to fuck everything up for us, begging us to let her take the first shot and prove herself... guess we don't have to worry about that shit anymore, right Jason?" Jason shrugged, saying "I don't disagree. I'll still miss her, though. Nobody could put together a mixtape like she could." Stan gave him a brief smile, before looking down at the ground. "So, what now?" asked Jason. Stan stopped for a moment to think about what he had seen through his binoculars; he could have sworn that Sam fired right at those weird looking people helping Luke, yet only one of them was injured. And that blast that killed Sam was unsettling. It seemed to seriously burn her, yet the surrounding apartment was somehow not scorched from the shot. "Those fuckers who killed Sam... there's something off about them. They're wearing this shiny clothing, some kind of fucking armor... I mean, it doesn't look like much, like somethin' out of a fantasy novel, but it can take a hell of a lot of damage. And they've got some kind of weapon... I've never seen anything like it." "You were the one with the eyes," replied Jason, gesturing towards Stan's binoculars. "Who do you think they were?" Stan bit his lip and thought about it, before answering "Rival gang would be the best bet, but I didn't recognize their style. Maybe they're from out of town, looking to expand and using Luke as a contact..." Jason scratched his chin, and asked "You think Luke is a traitor, helping another gang move in?" Stan shrugged, replying "Well, he hasn't been on good terms with the Boss for awhile now, ever since that time that the Boss killed one of his friends for insubordination. And with the shit that happened last night... I wouldn't be surprised if other gangs have been contacting him for awhile, and i'm thinkin' that last night he finally said yes. After calling a war without permission, and getting his ass kicked, he knew that the Boss would try to take him out, and so after losing the battle he asked for help." "I don't know," said Jason, "to me, it just doesn't really add up. But it's clear that these are no ordinary gangbangers. If a well equipped gang has their eyes on our territory, and is making a move, I think the Boss will want to know about it." Stan nodded, and handed Jason his binoculars, saying "You're right. Since i'm the one that saw what happened, and got a good look at those crazy fuckers, I'll do it. You stay here and keep an eye on them." "What about the guy outside the window?" asked Jason. Stan laughed, and replied "The Red Sleeve? Fuck him. He's probably following Luke, looking for revenge or some shit. I'm guessing that seeing Sam get blown to bits probably took his nerve from him, so I doubt that he'll make a move or get in our way. But by all means, if he hasn't run away already, feel free to kill him if you want. I'll be back in a bit."

Oriphiel · 07-01-2015, 09:33 AM

It was only a matter of time before I played this song...

Chapter Fourteen

John was sitting on a street bench, looking around with a calm yet alert gaze. He had taken off his denim jacket earlier while spying on Luke, due to the extreme heat that had come over the city as the sun rose higher into the sky. However, despite the discomfort the jacket caused him, he decided that taking it off had been a foolish mistake. The other two assassins had yet to reveal themselves and were surely lurking around nearby, but his caution also stemmed from the simple fact that he was still in Blue Shirt territory and could be recognized at any second. He dropped his hands down onto his legs and started drumming with his fingers, waiting for his reinforcements to arrive. As the time seemed to pass very slowly, and the heat bore down on him without relent, he felt a wave of relief when finally he spotted two familiar faces near the metro platform. He bent forward onto his knees and raised a hand to motion them towards him. Of course, he didn't have the luxury of being able to call in every single Red Sleeve that he was on good terms with; he knew that the circumstances were beyond believability, and that he could only call in the people who would back his play regardless. Also, he figured that calling in an army of Red Sleeves would simply get them blasted apart by the aliens, while also kicking off yet another war with the Blue Shirts. If he was going to figure out the aliens motivations, while simultaneously exploiting Luke's estranged relationship with the Blue Shirts to get him to join the Red Sleeves, then he needed more subtlety and finesse than a bloodthirsty war party would allow.

"Hey!" said Ricardo as he and Jackson, one of the new bloods, approached John. John stood up and stretched, smiling slightly as he greeted them back with a nod. Ricardo was known for being a heavy hitter, having a reputation that painted him as nothing more than a brute that got the job done, however John knew him better than that. John had also been slated as brainless muscle when he had first joined, and he recognized in Ricardo the same intelligence and instinct that had been initially overlooked in himself during his time as an enforcer. He had called in the new blood because he felt that he knew him well enough to trust him, and also because new members were always eager to do whatever was asked of them, in the hopes of distinguishing themselves and garnering favor. "So, what's going down?" asked Ricardo, as he fussed with the canvas jacket covering his colors. "You were pretty vague on the phone." John nodded his head towards the street, saying "Come on," as he started to walk. The others followed him, and he continued talking as he led them towards Luke's apartment. "Last night, while you were finishing off the Blue Shirts," he said, looking at Ricardo, "I followed the leader of their war party after he tried to slip away. I tailed him to an alley, where he collapsed. However, before I could take him out, there was a flash of light. These... things stepped out of the light, and..." "Things?" asked Ricardo, smiling and narrowing his eyes. Though Jackson was also listening intently, he didn't seem nearly as curious. "Yeah," continued John, "things. Best I can figure, they're aliens of some kind, and they've got firepower like you wouldn't believe. They've also got some sort of shield around them. At first, I thought it was their weird clothing that protected them, kinda like armor, but now I think it's actually some kind of barrier, one that can get punched through with repeated force." Ricardo thought for a moment, before shrugging and nodding, saying "Alright." "You believe me?" asked John in a tone of voice that implied that he already knew the answer. "Hell no," replied Ricardo, "I never did buy into any of that alien shit people talk about nowadays. It's just sci-fi movie bullshit, you know? But even if I don't believe you, I still trust you. There are weird lookin' people out there with good weapons, then I say that they're probably just a gang that got their hands on some of that fancy military tech, you know? If you think they're threat to the Red Sleeves, or at the very least a good challenge, then i'm game." John looked back at Jackson, who was being rather silent, to see how he felt about the situation. Jackson simply shrugged in agreement. "Well alright," said John through a smile. "Anyway, the plan is to confront them. I've been skulking around in the shadows long enough, and it's time that I finally made sense of all of this. I'd rather not start a fight with them, seeing as how they've got a crazy laser gun, so try to stay calm and follow my lead. I don't think they'll attack us, since they seem to be looking for potential allies to help them out with some plan of theirs, but... well, it still might get ugly. They're working with a Blue Shirt named Luke, who is currently being attacked by assassins sent by his leader." "No shit?" asked Ricardo, laughing. "What'd he do to piss the big man off?" John shrugged, and replied "Probably getting his ass kicked in last night's battle. Caused the Blue Shirts to lose a lot of respect, you know? Anyway, they're on the lookout for assassins, and they might peg us for the next wave. Like I said though, just follow my lead and we'll be fine. If we play our cards right, we could gain a serious edge against the Blue Shirts today." "Groovy," said Ricardo, and the three Red Sleeves continued on their way to Luke's apartment, the silence between them broken every now and then by the occasional nervous joke. Even though Ricardo didn't really believe that aliens were walking the earth, and Jackson seemed to be relatively calm about everything, they both suspected that they were in for a serious fight all the same.

While Stan was leaving to report back to the Boss, Jason had looked out the window with the binoculars and noticed that the Red Sleeve spy had disappeared; at this time, John had realized that he needed help, and left the scene to call for reinforcements using a nearby payphone. Stan made his way back to the Blue Shirt's headquarters, thinking of just what exactly he was going to say to the Boss. As the hideout wasn't terribly far from Luke's apartment, it didn't take Stan very long to reach his destination. Standing in front of the Boss' desk, he decided to forgo nuance; he simply told the Boss exactly what he had seen, suggesting that there was some strange new gang in town with high-tech weapons. The Boss, oddly enough, seemed to take the news rather well; without saying anything, he simply smiled and let Stan carry on uninterrupted. As Stan reached the end of his report, the Boss stood up from his chair and grabbed a sawed off shotgun from one of his desk's drawers. "Get some men," he said to Stan. "I want to see these trespassers with my own eyes." "Boss, I don't think that's..." began Stan, before the Boss signaled him to stop by raising a hand. "It's quite alright. Luke tried to tell me that he had met some characters last night, people that he believed could assist us in our endeavors. And considering the ease with which they apparently decimated Sam, I'd say he was correct. For now, the hit on Luke is suspended; I want to meet his acquaintances. If they do indeed possess the powerful weapons and armor that you saw them use, then I think they would make powerful allies. And if they don't have those resources, or if they aren't to my liking, then we'll simply execute them for entering our territory uninvited." Stan nodded, and left the office to gather up a war party.

As the Red Sleeves were approaching the apartment complex, John beckoned them to stop. "Over there," he said, pointing to a Blue Shirt leaning against the building. "Probably a scout or guard. I doubt an assassin would be standing around in his colors, watching the streets," said Jackson. "Definitely," added Ricardo, "but he shouldn't be too much trouble to take care of." However, as soon as he said that, two more Blue Shirts came into view; they seemed to be patrolling the area. After looking around, the Red Sleeves noticed even more of them, posted around the exterior of the building. "Damn," said Ricardo with a sigh. "You think they're here to spy on Luke, make sure that the assassins finish the job?" asked Jackson, but John shook his head. "I don't think so. There's way too many of them for just a recon job." "You think something went down while you were waiting for us to show up?" asked Ricardo. "Maybe," replied John with a shrug. He scanned the scene, looking for a place where he could see into Luke's apartment. The fire escape was out of the picture; it was too out in the open, and they'd have to pass a few guards to get to it. However, he noticed that there was a building near the apartment complex, seperated by a street. The rooms in the side of the building facing the street had windows, and one such room was lined up perfectly with the window of Luke's apartment. "Come on. I've got an idea," said John, as he led the Red Sleeves away.

Oriphiel · 07-01-2015, 05:49 PM

I never expected this to happen, but... after listening to all of this Disco, i'm actually starting to really like it. I must be going insane. Here's a fun song by Tapps, a Hi-NRG/Synth Pop trio from Canada!

Chapter Fifteen

Ricardo popped a piece of chewing gum into his mouth, leaning against the wall beside him with crossed arms. "Where'd you learn to do that?" he asked John, who was slowly but silently picking the lock to the door of the apartment with the fortuitous window. John smiled, and without taking his eyes off of his work replied "I'm a criminal. It's what I do." Ricardo laughed, saying "Oh, come on. Hell, i'm a criminal and I don't know how to do that shit." "Allow me to rephrase that; i'm a good criminal," replied John. Ricardo rolled his eyes and jokingly punched John's arm, saying "Fuck you, man." Just then, the lock clicked open, and John carefully opened the door. The Red Sleeves cautiously walked inside the apartment, and luckily for them it seemed as though nobody was home. John immediately made his way towards a window on the far side of the apartment. As he did so, Jackson started opening doors, saying "You do your spying thing. I've gotta take a leak," as he searched for the bathroom. Unfortunately for the Red Sleeves, this was the same apartment that Jason, the assassin, had been using to spy on Luke from afar. Of course, after hearing them unlock the door, he quickly ducked into a hiding space; he knew that it couldn't be Stan opening the door, since he had seen him entering Luke's apartment complex with the Boss. After scanning the scene and seeing who the intruders were, he decided that he could take them. Stepping out of his cover, he punched John in the throat and kicked him hard in the chest, sending him falling to the floor. Ricardo grabbed a vase off of the kitchen counter and threw it at Jason, who dodged it with ease. Jason then pulled out a silenced pistol from his shoulder holster and fired a shot at Ricardo, who jumped over the counter and took cover. Right as the fight had started, Jackson had opened the door to the apartment's closet in his search for the bathroom, and when Jason started to attack he quickly grabbed a baseball bat that had been stashed inside. Just as Jason was turning to shoot him, Jackson threw the baseball bat while rushing forward and closing the distance between him and his attacker. The skilled assassin shifted to the side and fired a few shots, however the bat hit his shoulder, causing him to miss. Jackson tackled him, and the two fell backwards into a nearby table. He then reached for Jason's gun, just barely managing to knock it out of the assassin's grip before he could shoot Jackson in the head. Ricardo ran out from behind his cover to join the fight, however, as he drew near, Jason kicked him in the groin. "Fuck!" yelled Ricardo as he struggled to stay on his feet. Jason continued grappling with Jackson, before striking him in the nose with his palm, and pushing him away.

John stood up, rubbing his neck and struggling to regain his breath and balance. Jason looked around for his pistol, and eventually spotted it nearby on the floor. Ricardo also saw the gun, and refused to let the assassin reach it; he stumbled forward just as the assassin was dashing towards it, and tried to keep him at bay. Though he was in no shape to stop Jason, who elbowed him in the jaw, Ricardo still managed to kick the pistol backwards, into the kitchen. Jason threw Ricardo to the side and continued after the gun, only to be tackled from behind by John, sending them both crashing forward into a mess of pots, dishes, and silverware. Jason slammed John's head into a cabinet under the sink, however it wasn't enough to incapacitate him; just as the assassin reached his pistol, John picked up a frying pan and swung it at him, hitting him hard in the side of his head. After one more swing, the assassin was down for good. John let the pan fall from his grip, and fell back to the ground in a heap of relief. Ricardo stumbled into the kitchen and looked down at the defeated assassin. "Nice," he said with a smile. "Pan fried asshole." John looked at him incredulously, saying "That's the worst joke I've heard all day, and I've heard some pretty shitty ones." "Hey," replied Ricardo as he helped John up, "you try coming up with a pun on the spot, after being kicked in the balls." "Hey, guys," said Jackson, pressing a hand to his bleeding nose, "you both alright?" As he and Ricardo began to converse, John noticed a pair of binoculars on the ground near the window, and used them to look into Luke's apartment. Just as he had suspected, there was something important going down; inside the room was a large amount of Blue Shirts, including their leader (who John recognized, as he had seen him once before while providing muscle for the Red Sleeves' leader during a meeting between the two). Because the Blue Shirts had arrived before him, and because the assassin had further stalled him, John witnessed the meeting as it was coming to a close. While he obviously couldn't hear what was being said, and he had no idea how much he'd missed, he still saw something that told him all he needed to know; before leaving the apartment, the leader of the Blue Shirts shook hands with one of the aliens and was handed one of their rifles, smiling all the while.

"Luke," said the Boss as he stood in the apartment's splintered door frame, a war party of Blue Shirts behind him. This was before the Red Sleeves had reached their vantage point. Luke was sitting on his couch (which had been moved to face the door) next to Qez, who seemed to be holding an alien weapon not unlike the one that Tyl had used earlier. In Luke's lap was a bag of chips. As soon as the Boss appeared in the doorway, Qez had lifted up her weapon. "Another friend?" she asked Luke. "Yeah," he replied, a confused expression on his face as he was expecting more assassins to arrive, but not the Boss himself. Qez's gun started to hum as if it was charging up for a shot. "Wait," said Luke. Qez shrugged, and the humming ceased. "Thank you for not shooting me," said the Boss in a calm voice. "My men tried to persuade me to let them deal with this matter themselves, that it was too dangerous for me to handle in person. They don't know me as well as you do, Luke. They'll never be able to understand why, despite our animosity towards each other, you'll never be able to take my life." Luke glared at the Boss, who smiled and stepped further into the room. Qez's gun stayed fixed on him, and he glanced at her, asking "I'm assuming that she's one of your friends from out of town?" Before either of them could answer, Heyt stepped out of the guest bedroom, holding an alien rifle. "You're correct," he said. The Blue Shirts behind the Boss were understandably worried, however none of them dared to say a word. "Is there something you wished to discuss with us?" he continued. The Boss scanned him up and down, and glanced at Qez once more. Though he was still calm, he seemed somewhat taken aback after taking a good look at them. "You really aren't just gangsters with fancy tech, are you?" he asked, gripping his shotgun tightly. "I am affiliated with no criminal organizations, and as far as I know, neither are any of my compatriots. However," Heyt said, lifting up his rifle, "our tech is indeed quite 'fancy', as i'm sure a demonstration would prove..."

The Blue Shirts behind the Boss became tense, and the ones that held firearms quickly lifted them towards Heyt. Both Luke and the Boss assured their allies to calm down, and the conversation continued. "There's no need for a demonstration. Perhaps later," said the Boss. "Now," he continued, "early this morning, Luke mentioned that he had met a group of newcomers to this city who were all very skilled with technology, and that they might be willing to lend me these skills of theirs. At first, I dismissed his words as being empty, but now I find myself intrigued by the offer. That is, if the offer still stands." At this point, more of the aliens had left the guest bedroom, each one holding a weapon. Heyt shot Retix a glance, before looking back at the Boss. "How many men do you command?" he asked. The Boss smiled, and replied "Quite a few. We own this whole section of the city, and the day is fast approaching when we shall seize control of the entirety. It's rare for us to ever be defeated or lose ground to other gangs, although," he shot a glance at Luke before continuing, "it does happen from time to time." Valk looked at the others, and said "This might be exactly what we've been hoping for." "Yes," replied Heyt, "and it might also be the very thing that dooms us." "We don't have a choice," replied Retix as she nursed her headache. After a moment, Heyt looked at the Boss and said "We need allies to find resources for us, as many as possible. And it would seem that you are quite envious of our technology. We can make you weapons... guns that require no ammunition, and depending on how you set them, they can also be used in a variety of combat situations. Is this an amicable arrangement?" The Boss smiled and said "I may be interested in your guns, but I haven't seen for myself what they're truly capable of. For all I know, they're not really worth the trouble. Perhaps you would be willing to give that demonstration you mentioned earlier?" Qez, without any hesitation, pulled the trigger on her rifle, and it began to hum. The aliens quickly moved out of the way, and Qez fired a concussive blast that knocked all of the Blue Shirts to the ground. As they looked up at her, she flipped a toggle on her rifle, setting it to destroy organic life, and said "That was a non-lethal shot. Of course, when it's set to it's lethal default, it can fire without any cautionary delay. Would you like to see?" The Boss smiled at her as he got back to his feet, saying "I think I'll test that function out on my own." Looking at Heyt, he asked "Do the lethal shots pierce through armor?" Heyt nodded, saying "The default is set to damage only organic tissue, but you can also set it to vaporize everything in front of you, if that is your preference." "Well," said the Boss, "it would seem that these weapons are definitely worth acquiring, if further testing proves the rest of the functions of these guns to be as promising as your friend's demonstration of the non-lethal mode. And that being the case, I think that we could certainly do business with each other." "Good," said Heyt. "We'll give you one rifle, and you can decide after testing it whether or not you want more. I suspect that you will. If so, we have our own projects to take care of, but we will craft as many weapons as possible for you with whatever free time we have. As long as you focus your attention on gathering our resources, that is." "We'll uphold our part of the deal, and you shall soon have whatever it is that you're looking for," said the Boss, smiling. He then stretched out his hand towards Heyt, who looked down at it with a slight expression of disgust. "Do we have a deal?" asked the Boss. Heyt knew the gesture that the Boss was making, and eventually forced himself to shake his hand. The Boss laughed, saying "Good."

02-10-2015, 10:26 PM	#11 (permalink)
Oriphiel Ask me how! Join Date: Oct 2014 Location: The States Posts: 5,354	Before I start the next chapter, I'd like to quickly thank a few people. First off, Zedd123 (aka Jade City), the plug extraordinaire who won me over to the amazing world of Funk and Disco, as well as introducing me to Hi-NRG music and inspiring this journal. Then there's Violet (Aka JustinJJustin), who kicked me until I started updating my journals again. And of course, I also have to thank Neapolitan, because he's probably the kindest and most supportive person around! Chapter Six Before the Blue Shirt had time to react, the glowing light in front of him let out a wave of energy as it exploded throughout the alley. His ears ringing, he slowly opened his eyes and tried to see through the thick smoke that had appeared before him. In time, the smoke was parted by the wind, and the Blue Shirt made out six figures in front of him. Five of them were standing up and stretching their arms and legs, while one was laying motionless on the ground. One of them noticed the figure on the ground, and bent over to examine them. "Well, ***," they spoke, "Gor got made. Looks like one of the shots went right through his heart." One of the figures shook their head and sighed, before saying "Well, at least we made it." They stopped and looked around, before continuing with "We did* make it, didn't we?" "You mean, is this Earth?" the kneeling figure responded. The first figure nodded, and the kneeler said "Well, my calibrations were forced. You know, with lasers being shot at me and all that. But the coordinates sent by the beacon should have been accurate... we had to leave in quite a hurry, and it's possible that the beacon was too far gone to accurately transport us, but we should be in North America... or was it South America? Either way, Earth. So... yeah?" The first figure stared blankly at the kneeler for a moment, before looking towards the Blue Shirt and asking "Hey you, is this Earth?" The Blue Shirt nodded, the pain of his wounds being completely forgotten by his mind, which was now too confused to feel much of anything. "Don't talk to the people," said the kneeler, who began to stand up. The first figure rolled their eyes, and said "I thought you loved Earth, and it's culture. Isn't that why you chose to start the revolution here, making us learn all of those human languages and customs?" "Well, yes, but... I mean, I like humans in theory, but they're covered in diseases, and touch each other far too often." The smoke had now completely lifted, and the first figure walked towards the human, ignoring the second figure's warnings. They appeared to be a female, with blue-green skin like the rest of the aliens, and had a strange type of sword strapped to their back. Kneeling in front of the Blue Shirt, she said "Hola. My name is Retix. If my understanding of your culture is correct, I am what you'd refer to as an alien. And, if my understanding of your cinema is correct, you're probably thinking that i'm about to violate you with a variety of scientific tools, or perhaps impregnate you with my offspring. However, I assure you that these fears are entirely unwarranted. You see, we come in peace." She smiled at him expectantly, and he continued to stare at her with a confused expression. Her smile began to fade, and she said "What? Heyt assured me that that was an authentic human joke. I thought..." "Heyt?" asked the Blue Shirt. "Oh, he's the one who was just talking about your various diseases." One of the figures began to approach Retix and the Blue Shirt, while Heyt rolled his eyes and said "Oh, let's all just gawk at the human, shall we? Maybe we should touch them as well, just to really make sure that we get covered in their diseases?" The figure seemed to be a female, like Retix, although their hair was much longer and curlier. "He seems to be excreting fluids," she spoke, "which I think means he's either been wounded, recently released an amount of waste, or is currently copulating... regardless, maybe an alley isn't the right place for us to get acquainted with him?" Retix nodded, and said "You're right. Human, would you please lead us to a location that is both safe and private?" The Blue Shirt blinked, and said "I... I have an apartment," in a weak voice. "Well," said Retix, "please lead the way." The Blue Shirt stood up, and began to walk towards the metro station with the aliens following closely behind. Though they had blue-green skin and metallic clothing, not a single person on the train gave them more than the occasional questioning glance. After they had reached his apartment, the Blue Shirt let them in and flicked the light switch. Of course, the aliens walked around his home and curiously examined everything there was to see. The curly haired alien's eyes widened as she spotted his television, and she said "No Way!" as she leapt unto his sofa and grabbed the remote. "I've learned all about these! I mean, Heyt showed us all the waves and scans he picked up, but I've always wanted to get the authentic experience...", the television flickered on to show a monster stomping through an unfortunate city, and the alien gasped and said "I can't even **ing believe it!" She shot the Blue Shirt a glance and said "Oh, by the way, I love the exclamations and curses you humans have. ** is my favorite. It's just insanely addictive to say, you know? Just sounds so good and right. **, , *..." "So... who are you?" asked the Blue Shirt. The curly haired alien smiled, and said "Oh, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Qez." The Blue Shirt looked around nervously, and added "I'm Luke. But what I meant was... you know, who* are you people? Normally, I'd just think that you're painted up disco-dogs or somethin', but that light back in the alley..." Qez shrugged, and responded with "We're just a couple of folks trying to find a home." "Don't you have, like, a home planet or something?" asked Luke, and Qez simply shook her head and responded with "Not anymore." Heyt walked over to them, and after clearing his throat said "Look, Señor Luke, to put it very simply, we're fugitives. However, while our planet is now inaccessible to us, we're very well equipped to make this wonderful place, Earth, our new home." Luke raised an eyebrow and asked "Señor?" Heyt also raised an eyebrow, and he responded with "Yes, isn't that an authentic masculine title in America? Anyway, it hardly matters at the moment. What truly matters is that we find a way to complete our plan." "Your plan?" asked Luke. "Yes. You see, back on our planet, we were all part of the caste of nobility. However, our right to rule was denied when our people were enslaved by a certain Threx Empire that has lately been expanding throughout the cosmos. Of course, our people eventually rose up in rebellion, and we used all of our resources to find a way to relocate to another planet, one that was far away from the reach of the Threx Empire. Here, on Earth, we will make our final stand. We will find a way to claim dominance over this planet, uniting humanity under our banner as an army capable of great accomplishments." Luke shook his head, and said "Wait, what? You want to dominate us?" Heyt shrugged, and responded with "If we don't, the Threx Empire will conquer you just as they conquered our own people. Look, maybe [i]dominate[i/] was too harsh a word. I think the word lead is more accurate. We want to help humanity. We have a great deal of technology, and I know that if we collaborate with humanity we can find a way to fight our soon-to-be common enemy. So, what do you say? Will you help us?" Luke stared blankly ahead for a few moments, lost in thought and confusion. He sighed, grabbed a bottle of beer, and took a drink as he sat on the sofa next to Qez, saying "Sure." __________________ ---------------------- \|---Mic's Albums---\| ---------------------- ----------------------------- \|---Deafbox Industries---\| ----------------------------- Last edited by Oriphiel; 10-11-2015 at 09:33 PM.

03-01-2015, 02:19 PM	#12 (permalink)
Oriphiel Ask me how! Join Date: Oct 2014 Location: The States Posts: 5,354	So, yeah. Aliens. What can I say? I'm writing this as I go, and all of these Hi-NRG sound effects seriously remind me of outer space. Anyway, it's about time that I wrote another entry... Chapter Seven The club was a blood-stained mess by the time that the fight had ended. Almost all of the Blue Shirts had run back to their territory by then, although a few weren't able to escape. Ricardo had grabbed hold of one of the stragglers and began to punch the unlucky Blue Shirt repeatedly. However, as the Blue Shirt became increasingly unresponsive to his attacks, Ricardo relaxed his grip and let him fall to the floor. He took a few deep breaths and scanned the scene, all while wiping away the blood from a cut on his shoulder. "You know," said Cleo as she walked up and stood beside him, "I think we just knocked out half the city." Ricardo looked back at her, surprised to see that she had stuck around through the chaos, and laughed as he nodded. "Yeah, seems like it. They really brought an army this time." Cleo looked around at the destroyed club and noticed a bottle of beer on the floor. The neck was broken off, but it still had a small amount of liquor in the bottom. She shrugged, picked it up, and took a drink. After finishing it off, she threw the broken bottle to the side, and asked "So, do you know why these guys came after you tonight?" Ricardo nodded. "Yeah. Earlier, John and I bopped with a few of their..." spoke Ricardo, however he stopped talking as he looked around the club as if searching for something. He wiped the sweat from his brow and asked "Hey, have you seen John anywhere?" Cleo shrugged and shook her head, before taking a look around. "I've got no clue," she said. Ricardo sighed as he helped a wounded Red Sleeve off of the floor, saying "It's all good. I'm sure he's fine." John was a scout by nature, always cautious and observant. While Ricardo and the Red Sleeves were busy fighting for their lives, he had noticed the leader of the Blue Shirt army fleeing out the back door, and resolved to follow him. It was when Luke fell to the ground in the alleyway that John decided to approach him and finish him off. However, before he could make his move, a blinding light flashed through the alleyway, and John scrambled back towards cover as he assessed the situation. Of course, he could hardly believe his eyes when he saw what appeared to be aliens standing before him. He watched them as they conversed with Luke, and though he was in disbelief he still resolved to hold a calm sense of caution. When one of the aliens shot a glance towards him, he quietly fell back behind his cover. Though he wasn't sure if he'd been spotted, and he still wasn't exactly clear on what he'd seen, he decided to return to the club as quickly as possible. John arrived back at the club, and saw the Red Sleeves celebrating with drinks and tired laughs. Ricardo spotted him and yelled out his name as he walked towards him. Just then, all of the lights came on as the last song of the night came to an end, and the DJ walked out from behind his turntable as if nothing had happened. "John, where were you? You didn't run away from the fight, did you?" asked Ricardo as he laughed and punched John's arm. John looked around nervously, saying "No, I stuck around for awhile. Damn near almost got killed up at the entrance. Anyway, I saw the leader of the pack trying to slip out, so I followed him." "And?" asked Ricardo expectantly. John looked at him for a moment, before blinking and looking away. "He got away." Ricardo turned towards the DJ and yelled "Night, Terrence!", before looking back towards John and asking "No way in hell he gave you the slip. So, what, did some reinforcements bail his ass out or somethin'?" John nodded and said "Yeah, something like that." Ricardo yawned as he stretched out his arms, and said "I'm sure they'll be back, and you can finish him off then. Anyway, do you know what time it is? I've got that thing tomorrow morning..." John shook his head and rubbed a bruise on his cheek. Cleo looked around, and noticed that one of the men unconscious on the floor was wearing a watch. She lifted up his wrist, and said "It's... about three." "Alright, i'm done for tonight," said Ricardo as he walked for the door. "Yeah, me too. I need to lie down for awhile," said John. "Seeya," said Cleo. After a few steps, Ricardo turned towards her and asked "Hey, you're a writer, right?" She nodded. He smiled and said "I'll keep an eye out for your work, then. You can bet that I'll be reading it." She laughed, thinking about the nature of her writing, and replied "I'm sure you will." Before leaving the club, he turned towards her one final time and shouted "I had a good time tonight. You should come back sometime." "Yeah," she shouted back, "I might just." As John and Ricardo left, Cleo looked around for her notepad amidst the aftermath of the fight. Having found it, she walked towards the door, laughing to herself as she read the story she had written earlier. __________________ ---------------------- \|---Mic's Albums---\| ---------------------- ----------------------------- \|---Deafbox Industries---\| ----------------------------- Last edited by Oriphiel; 03-01-2015 at 03:27 PM.

03-13-2015, 04:07 PM	#13 (permalink)
Oriphiel Ask me how! Join Date: Oct 2014 Location: The States Posts: 5,354	Chapter Eight When confronted with things that challenge their perception of the boundaries of reality, people react in a variety of ways. Luke decided that the best course of action was to share a few drinks with the aliens, before falling asleep on his couch as the television played a few re-run episodes of a lighthearted show about a talking motorcycle. He woke up the next morning to the sound of construction, specifically of clanging metal and the hiss of welding, and it seemed to be coming from his apartment's second bedroom (which had remained vacant ever since his ex had moved out). Luke rubbed his eyes as he stood up, and he walked towards the commotion with sloppy and tired steps. He knocked on the door and waited for a response, however the noise from within carried on without a lull. Eventually, he turned the knob, and the smell of hot solder and burnt rubber escaped into the apartment as the door swung open. Standing before him were, of course, the aliens that he had met the night before, and they had seemingly converted the empty bedroom into a dark and cluttered workshop. Through the shower of sparks that erupted from the metal being welded and the dim glow of the strange alien machinery, Luke could barely make out the details of the large device that they were crafting. Luke simply stood there, staring into the room with an expression that wasn't quite of shock or apathy, until Qez hopped off of the arcade machine she was sitting on and waved to him. Luke nodded toward her, before asking "Alright, seriously, what is all this?" Qez started to answer him, before being cut off by Retix, who was massaging her forehead and squinting her eyes as if she had a migraine as she said "Good dawn, Luke. Right now, as you can see, we're simply following the plan." "Oh really? And what's 'the plan'? I hope it's making my apartment smell so bad that those dicks in space that're after you can't track you with their space bloodhounds, 'cause otherwise there's no excuse for you guys to not spray some freshener or something while you're working." Retix's migraine seemed to grow worse, as she continued to rub her forehead. "There's no... such thing... as a space bloodhound," she said slowly, as if in pain. Heyt, who was typing on what seemed to be a computer on his wrist, said "Last night, as you were teaching us about human television, Tyl and Valk set up this humble workspace so that we could begin to create 'the device'. Oh, that reminds me, you were never actually introduced to each other. Tyl is the one over there with the welding gun and the red hair, and Valk is soldering microchips in the corner." Valk, who was soldering with one hand and reading a book with the other, glanced at Luke and smiled as he said "It's a delight." Tyl, who had their face covered by a welding mask, simply gave Luke a nod. "Well, it's nice to meet you," said Luke, "but, uh... where exactly did all of this **** come from?" "What do you mean?" asked Qez. Luke gestured to the machinery and tools throughout the room, saying "You know, all of this fancy... electronic... stuff." "Well," replied Qez, "we needed resources to make 'the device', and Tyl noticed that there was a storeroom with ample provisions beside this building, so we..." "Oh ***," said Luke as he rubbed his forehead, "please don't tell me you cleaned out the department store next door..." Qez smiled and replied "Don't worry about it, it's not like we got caught! You know, there's an expression from where we come from. It's... actually, hold on, i'm not really sure how it would translate to English. Give me a moment..." "No, really, it's fine," said Luke, "i'm sure it's very wise and fitting. Anyway, what's this 'device' you guys keep talking about?" Heyt, still typing on his wrist computer, said "To put it simply, it's our only shot of defeating our enemies before they conquer this humble planet. Do you really need, or want, to know anything more about it?" "Yeah, I mean... what does it do? Is it, like, a big gun or something?" Heyt shot Luke a glance and laughed, while Retix said "Hardly. Guns are designed to end lives, while our device is designed to both save them and maximize their potential." Luke shook his head and replied "Fine, whatever, as long as you don't burn down my apartment I guess it's all the same to me. Anyway, I'm going out for a bit. My, uh, friends* are probably wondering what happened to me last night, so i'm gonna go check in with them." "Wait, before you go," said Qez as she walked towards him, "I need you to show me where your human telephone is." Luke smiled and replied "Why, so you can 'phone home'?" "No," said Qez, "I don't think the ashes of my planet is accepting calls at the moment. I need it so I can order a pizza. Oh, and I suppose I'll also need some human money." Luke shrugged, saying "Sure. Just remember to put a few slices in the fridge for me." "Oh!" exclaimed Qez, "Remember that saying I wanted to tell you? I think I know how to translate it. Roughly, it's something like, 'if you worry about the past, you'll become dead fast'." "That sucks," replied Luke. "Yeah, I know, but it's the only way I can translate it so that it rhymes," said Qez dejectedly. In a few minutes, Luke had left the apartment, and the aliens continued with their work. Each one was focused on their specific set of chores, and they toiled in silence for the better part of an hour, before Retix dropped her tools and scanned the room. "This isn't going to be enough," she said, as she nursed another migraine. Valk noticed her gripping her forehead yet again, and asked "It's getting worse?" Retix shook her head, saying "Don't worry about me. I'm fine. Right now, we need to worry about finding a way to get more supplies. Like I said, we just don't have enough." "About that," replied Heyt, "we could always use Luke to procure what we need." "He's not our slave" said Valk in a strangely cheery tone, "and we can find resources without dragging him into this any further." Heyt shrugged, saying "Maybe. But, though it pains me to admit this, his indigenous nature makes him far more knowledgeable about this planet than any of my scans and simulations have made us. Without his cooperation, we may not succeed in time." "Look, instead of plotting over how to manipulate him into finding resources us, how about we, I don't know, just ask him to?" said Qez as she began to move heavy pieces of metal from the corner over to where Tyl was welding. "I mean, he already said he'd help us." Heyt laughed and said "Why bother wrestling with the morality of manipulation, when the entire purpose of the device we're building is to..." Qez cut him off, exclaiming "That's different. There's a difference between doing what we have to do and doing what we want to do." Retix lowered her hand from her forehead and turned to face Qez and Heyt, interrupting them both by saying "It doesn't matter. We'll find a way to complete our plan, no matter what may happen. We'll ask Luke to gather supplies for us, and if he refuses, then we'll do what we must with what we have. Until then, just focus on..." Suddenly, there came a knock at the door, followed by a loud voice exclaiming "Pizza delivery!" "Nice! **** these moral quandaries, i'm starving!" yelled Qez as she raced for the door. __________________ ---------------------- \|---Mic's Albums---\| ---------------------- ----------------------------- \|---Deafbox Industries---\| ----------------------------- Last edited by Oriphiel; 11-25-2015 at 09:33 PM.

03-19-2015, 09:30 AM	#14 (permalink)
Oriphiel Ask me how! Join Date: Oct 2014 Location: The States Posts: 5,354	I'm back again, with another chapter! Chapter Nine The sun had risen above the streets of the city by the time that Luke arrived at the Blue Shirt's main hideaway, and left a soft haze above the asphalt as the small amount of rain from last night began to evaporate. He walked past a small group of people gathered around a large boombox as he approached the abandoned building that had become all too familiar to him in the past weeks; it used to house two different businesses, with a restaurant on the bottom floor and the headquarters of an independent record label on top, and it was comprised of the kind of old, mossy bricks that seemed to sweat during the hot days of summer. Of course, there were Blue Shirts throughout the surrounding area, many of them visibly wounded from the festivities of the night before. Luke nodded to the Blue Shirts by the front door as he entered, and he was almost immediately hit by the stark contrast of the burning day outside and the cold and dark interior of the building. Though the only lights within the building were dim lamps, glowing pinball machines, and haphazardly placed neon signs, he knew the way through the building well enough to avoid getting lost. It wasn't long before he reached his destination, which was a large office on the top floor. The two guards standing watch beside the door let him in without much trouble, and he brushed his hair back and cleared his throat as he entered. There was a man sitting at the desk in the middle of the office as Luke entered, frantically writing something down across a yellow piece of paper. "Hey, Boss," said Luke as he sat down in one of the leather chairs in front of the desk. The man at the desk let his pencil slip out of his hand as he leaned back in his chair and stared at the piece of paper with an expression of examination. After a few seconds had passed, he looked at Luke and smirked as he said "You're not gonna put a bandage on that?" Luke looked at him with a questioning glance, before remembering the scar across his face, and he raised his hand towards it as he said "Oh, the cut? It's fine. I mean, I cleaned it, and it stopped bleeding, so..." "Don't worry about it. You do whatever you feel you need to do, Luke," interrupted the Boss, "but if you want my advice, cover it up. It's almost always the little things that end up destroying you. Anyway, why don't you tell me about last night's war, specifically about why over fifty of my men decided to take up arms without my consent?" Luke opened his mouth and tilted his head as if searching for an answer, before shaking his head and saying "We got carried away. The Red Sleeves put two of our boys in plasters earlier that night." The Boss picked up his pencil and started writing again, as if a great idea had just struck him and he was trying to quickly capture it before it disappeared. Without looking up from his work, he replied "So it was a matter of revenge, then?" Luke shrugged, saying "Yeah, I guess." The Boss smiled, though he still was focused intently on his writing, and replied "Do you know why i'm the leader of this outfit?" Luke shook his head, and after a moment of silence the Boss continued. "It's because I earned it. And do you know what happens when someone gains power without earning it?" Once again, Luke shook his head. "They get disgraced, and they lose it all, because they never truly understood what power was to begin with. Last night, you led my men into battle. You tried to take my place. And though your intentions were reasonable enough, you've put us even further from attaining the revenge that you craved." "We ***ed up, I know, but..." said Luke as he nervously prodded the cut on his face. The Boss let his pencil drop once again, and laughed as he sat up straight. "Luke, there's something that I learned quite awhile ago. There is no revenge, there's nothing sacred, and there's nothing personal. In the end, it's all just numbers. All of it," he said as he folded up the piece of paper into a compact triangle. Luke gave him a puzzled look, and said "Yeah, sure. Again, i'm sorry, but there's something that I think you should know..." The Boss sighed as he fell back into his chair, before setting the triangle on the desk and flicking it into one of the open drawers of a cabinet, saying "And what's that?" Obviously, Luke wanted to tell him about what had occurred last night, but he couldn't quite find the words. He decided to give it a shot anyway. "I, uh... well, I met some people* last night. They're new to the city, and I showed them around. Anyway, they're really great with electronics, so I thought maybe they could..." The Boss interrupted him with laughter, saying "You ran into a group of tourists? Luke, what exactly is the point of you telling me this?" Luke shrugged, replying "I thought you'd want to meet them, is all. You'd have gotten a kick out of them. And like I said, they're amazing with technology. They could really help us with... you know what? Just forget it. You're right. It's, uh.. it's not important." The Boss leaned back in his chair and stared hard at Luke, saying "Look, I've got something to tell you. I'm not the kind of man that likes to do things in the shadows." Luke tilted his head and smiled as he looked around the very dimly lit office, and the Boss smiled as he continued. "You know what I mean. Anyway, I like to say exactly what's on my mind, and to always do things in the open. Being completely blunt, you damaged my reputation when you led my men into battle without first consulting me, and you further insulted this outfit when you went on to lose that battle. I've always believed in the value of respect, and to regain the amount that this city holds for me I must now take certain actions. I'm going let you walk out of this place, and in the near future i'm going to send three assassins to collect your head. By doing this, the world will know that nobody can disrespect me without expecting consequences. Now, if the assassins kill you, then obviously the city will fear my hand. But if you manage to kill them, then it shows that I've made misjudgments of talent; of the assassins, and of yours. If that's the case, then I'll welcome you back into this outfit, giving you another chance. And so the city will know that I have compassion for those with skill. Do you understand?" Luke felt a cold sweat across his skin, but tried to remain calm. "Yeah," he replied, "I get it." "Good," said the Boss. "Now feel free to leave my office." Luke rose from his chair and slowly walked towards the door, when the Boss suddenly called his name. "Yes?" answered Luke. The Boss smiled and said "Don't lose hope. When the boys inevitably open a pool over whether you or the assassins will survive the days to come, I'll be sure to put twenty down in your favor." "Thanks," said Luke in a dry voice, and his body felt the strange mix of calm and alarm that adrenaline produces as he slowly walked through the dark hideout. __________________ ---------------------- \|---Mic's Albums---\| ---------------------- ----------------------------- \|---Deafbox Industries---\| -----------------------------

03-24-2015, 10:23 AM	#15 (permalink)
Oriphiel Ask me how! Join Date: Oct 2014 Location: The States Posts: 5,354	Sorry about the aliens, assassins and pizza. I wasn't kidding when I said that I was making this up as I go. Anyway, I think it's time to include one of my favorite bands that made waves in the late 1970's/early 1980's club scene: The B-52's! As i'm currently writing this entry, i'm listening to their debut album! Chapter Ten John sat alone at a dive club, the kind that seemed to stay open at all hours, occasionally taking a drink from a brown bottle of beer in his hand. Of course, John had gone home to get some rest early that morning, but he found himself unable to sleep as he simply stared at his ceiling in thought. And so he eventually found himself cooling his heels at the club, thinking about just what exactly it was that he had witnessed last night. Surprisingly enough, even at such an early hour, the dance floor was almost filled to capacity as the erratic music reverberated throughout the building. John focused intently on his thoughts as he stared straight ahead into the crowd, ignoring the occasional person that bumped into him, and as he finished off his beer he stood up and resolved to figure things out once and for all. He made his way out of the club and towards the metro station, putting on a denim jacket over his gang colors. As he got on the metro train, he noticed a few Blue Shirts scattered throughout the car, shouting and laughing as they harassed the other passengers. He thought about turning around, but wasn't keen on having to wait for the next metro train (which, at such an early hour, might not come for another half hour or more), and he quickly decided that he could avoid their attention if he simply stayed calm and kept a low profile. Oddly enough, he recognized a familiar face as he took a seat; the girl that he had met earlier, Cleo, was picking rocks out of the soles of her tennis shoes a few seats down. After glancing at the Blue Shirts and determining that they were reasonably distracted by their revelry (most of them were gathered at the opposite end of the car, as they picked on a well dressed couple), John stood up and took the seat across from Cleo. "Hey," he said in a voice that had a tired roughness to it, and he cleared his throat to try to regain some clarity. Cleo looked up at him with a tired glance, and smiled as she recognized him, saying "Oh, hey! How's it going?" John shrugged, and replied "Good. So, what're you doing in the tube this early?" Cleo was occupied with picking out a particularly large piece of gravel out of her sole, and said "Couldn't sleep. Decided to, uh... you know, hang out somewhere and grab some terrible food. I know this tiny movie theater, early in the morning they play all of these really ***ty movies... So, how 'bout you?" John thought for a moment, before saying "Just taking care of some business." Cleo glanced up at him with a smile and a raised eyebrow, saying "Oh, business, huh? How very mysterious. Well, good luck with that. Anyway, my stop's coming up. Maybe I'll see you at that club sometime, if they ever get it fixed up again." John smiled, and said "They always do, somehow. Have fun at the movies." The metro train started to slow down, and Cleo stood up, saying "Thanks. And you have fun with your business." Before she could exit the train car, one of the Blue Shirts stood between her and the door. He smiled as he leaned against the doorway, saying "Hey, hold on a second. You know, ever since you got on the train car, I kept thinkin' to myself that I'd seen you somewhere before. Anyway, just now, it finally came to me!" The fuzzy voice of the metro conductor advised everyone to stand clear of the doors, and they closed as the Blue Shirt pushed Cleo back into a chair and walked towards her. "Remember, at that crazy fight at the Red Sleeve's club a few hours ago? You're the girl who gave me this," he said as he pointed to a wound that had only just begun to heal. The other Blue Shirts began to take notice of the situation, and started walking towards Cleo. She took a deep breath, looked up at the Blue Shirt, and said "Yeah? I'm also the girl that gave you this," as he kicked one of his knees. He shouted in pain and surprise, and hit his head on one of the metro car's chairs as he fell to the ground. The rest of the Blue Shirts quickly made their way towards Cleo, some angry and looking for vengeance, and others laughing in surprise. Cleo stood out of the chair and prepared for the inevitable fight, and John was standing up to help her when he noticed that one was approaching from the side of the car that was behind them both. John grabbed him as he tried to push his way past, and knocked him out by slamming his head against a window (which, in a somewhat anti-climactic fashion, didn't break). The Blue Shirt closest to Cleo pulled out a knife and lashed out at her with a quick and precise slash towards her neck, and she backed away in time to avoid his attack. John jogged forward and stood beside Cleo, but neither of them quite knew how to combat the man with the knife; if either of them made a single false move, they were both likely to die then and there. Immediately after the Blue Shirt took another controlled slash at the two of them, John sensed an opening and attempted to quickly duck beneath his arm and tackle him. The Blue Shirt stepped back and managed to push John to the side, cutting a nasty gash into his arm as he collided with the chairs at the side of the car. Cleo took advantage of the chaos of the moment and kicked the Blue Shirt between his legs, following up by punching his nose. He fell in a heap towards John, who grabbed for the knife in his hand, and the rest of the Blue Shirts leapt forward into the fight. Cleo grappled with them, managing to elbow one in the jaw, but she was clearly outnumbered. After taking a few heavy punches to the stomach and face, she fell backwards. John got to his feet, gripping the Blue Shirt's knife, and he slashed angrily into the back of one of the men attacking Cleo. The wounded Blue Shirt screamed as he fell forward, and the rest of them backed away as John lifted his knife towards them. "You alright?" asked John as he glanced down at Cleo. She wiped away the blood escaping from her nose with one hand, holding her bruised stomach with the other, and said "Yeah, i'm fine," as she stood up. The metro train began to slow down as it reached another stop, and John and Cleo kept their eyes on the Blue Shirts as they made their way towards the door. They stepped onto the platform, and finally began to relax once the train's doors had closed. At first, both of them weren't quite sure what to say to each other, but eventually they both simply started to laugh. "Jesus," said John as he grabbed the cut across his arm, "I thought I was *ed for sure that time." Cleo gave him an incredulous look, still laughing as she said "Oh, come on! Didn't you just take on, like, fifty guys not more than a few hours ago? These guys should've been a cakewalk for you!" "Yeah, I know, it's just... I don't know, when he pulled out that knife I just choked. Usually weapons don't bother me at all, I try to keep calm, but when I ed up trying to tackle him I seriously thought that was it. If you hadn't kicked his sack..." Cleo began to laugh even harder. John looked at the large fixed-blade knife in his hand, and began to look at himself for an inconspicuous place to put it. He thought about hiding it in his waistband, but didn't want the bare blade slicing into his thigh. As the two of them walked down the platform, he settled for sticking it into one of his boots. "Well," said Cleo, gripping her stomach as if her laughter was causing her pain, "where exactly are we headed? A clinic?" John smiled and replied "Well, i'm heading for the Blue Shirts' main HQ, doing some recon. You can join me if you want, but it might get nasty..." Cleo stopped and said "Are you serious? You barely managed to take on, like, five or six of them just now, and we're both all kicked to ** with cuts and bruises. What're you going to do if you, I don't know, get caught?" John thought for a moment, before replying "Die horribly?" Cleo smiled and rolled her eyes. "Alright," she said, "I'll tag along. And since you're such a gentleman, I'll let you pay my medical bills afterwards." "Done," replied John through a smile, and the first few rays of the morning sun made their way towards the city as the two of them stepped down the stairs and off of the platform. __________________ ---------------------- \|---Mic's Albums---\| ---------------------- ----------------------------- \|---Deafbox Industries---\| ----------------------------- Last edited by Oriphiel; 11-25-2015 at 09:34 PM.

05-19-2015, 01:02 PM	#16 (permalink)
Oriphiel Ask me how! Join Date: Oct 2014 Location: The States Posts: 5,354	I'm back again, and it's time for DISCOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Chapter Eleven Cleo and John walked through the street in a nonchalant fashion, although they were still ready for any trouble they might run into. After all, some of those boys back in the metro train might have used a pay phone to call ahead and issue a warning to the rest of the pack. So far, however, they seemed to be in the clear, as the few Blue Shirts that were awake and about at such an early hour seemed to ignore them without so much as a second glance. Both Cleo and John had been nursing their wounds since the previous battle, and eventually they decided to visit one of the seedy clinics half-hidden throughout the city. Such places weren't entirely uncommon in areas with heavy gang activity; where a profit stands to be made, businesses will inevitably spring up, and the people of this city had need of a place that would patch them up without asking questions, for a fee of course (and much lighter than the debts that a person might incur at a legitimate hospital). To find shelter in this unfamiliar part of town, they asked directions of a homeless woman reclining comfortably on a couch that had been set out on the sidewalk, and a few dollars later they were heading in the right direction. John and Cleo walked cautiously past a Blue Shirt as they scanned the streets. At the entrance of a nearby alleyway, a "+" had been written on the brick wall in red chalk. "There," said Cleo, as she nodded towards it. "Yeah," answered John, tightly grasping the cut across his arm as the two of them entered the alley. Cleo stretched out an arm as she walked onward, running her fingers across the bricks of the wall beside her; they were shiny and smooth, still wet from last night's rain and the few drops that were continuing to fall. "Think it'll keep on?" asked John, looking up at the sky. Cleo shot him a glance over her shoulder and shrugged, saying "I don't know. Hold on, let me check my pocket shaman." John looked at her with an incredulous expression, and she rolled her eyes and continued "Nobody gets my humor..." Before long, they had reached a cramped stairwell that seemed to tunnel into the side of the alley, leading to a small green door at the bottom. Across the door were two signs; the first was a faded antique that said "Tender Love and Care", and the sign beneath it had "No Trades. $ or Fuck Off" scrawled bluntly across it. Cleo smiled widely as she looked at the green door and briefly played with the antique sign, saying "I love it! The little mom-ish antique, the paint job, the tiny knob, the warning sign that looks like a three year old wrote it with a crayon... it's a-door-able." She looked at John as her smile became a smirk, asking "Get it?" John rolled his eyes, and he leaned past her and turned the doorknob as the door slowly opened with a creak. The two of them found themselves in what was essentially a basement. Underneath the dim glow of a few lightbulbs hanging off of the ceiling from simple wires, a small group of people were going about their business. A few were rummaging through various bags and boxes, while others tended to a wounded man that lay unconscious on a cot. A man sitting on a crate and smoking a cigarette looked up at John and Cleo from the magazine he was reading. He set it down, nodding his head towards them in acknowledgement as he asked "You lot need some work done on you?" Before they could give anything other than a brief answer, the man had hopped off of the crate and started looking them over. He quickly grabbed John by the shoulder and led him and Cleo towards a few empty cots, taking a long drag from his cigarette before throwing it to the ground and extinguishing it with his foot. "It's just a few scratches," said John as he was basically forced unto a cot. "Speak for yourself," said Cleo as she rubbed her ribs. She untucked her shirt and slowly lifted up the bottom, revealing an abstract painting of reds, yellows and purples across her lower torso. "Fuck," she said through a nervous laugh, "didn't expect it to look like that. In the movies, people get beat to hell and back, and yet they always seem to walk away with just a few little nicks here and there." The man set down John's wounded arm and examined Cleo's ribs, eventually saying "It looks much worse than it actually is. Your ribs don't seem to be broken, which is very good; shards of bone are nasty little fuckers, tearing up organs and such. When did this happen?" "Well, we've been walking around for awhile... I think the fight happened maybe twenty minutes ago?" answered Cleo. The man responded "Then your stomach probably isn't punctured, else you'd be either dead or screaming. There's definitely internal bleeding, though, that's for damn sure." He stopped and ran a hand through his hair, saying "Yeah, I can deal with most of this. Easy. $50. You got it?" John and Cleo nodded, and they both went through their pockets until they had collectively amassed the amount. As he grabbed a few supplies and started to clean and stitch up their cuts, starting with the wound on John's arm, he began to sing a few folk tunes in a low and quiet voice, almost as if he was simply humming. In a short amount of time, he had patched them both up. "Is there anything I can do about this right now?" asked Cleo, with a hand on her ribs. The man glanced at her as he clipped the last piece of suture, and shook his head and shrugged, saying "Not really. Get thee to a hospital." John raised an eyebrow at the man's choice of using the word "thee", but he figured that he was probably quoting something. When the man had finished his work, without so much as saying another word he left the two of them and sat back on the crate, lifting up his magazine after lighting another cigarette. John and Cleo stood up and collected themselves, before leaving the dank clinic. Outside, the sun had climbed a bit further into the sky, flooding the city with even more light as it continued to rise. The two of them continued on their mission, making their way towards the Blue Shirts' headquarters. As they drew closer, John stuck to the shadows and scanned the surrounding area, eventually deciding to spy on the hideout from a nearby abandoned building. As he peered at the hideout through a foggy window, Cleo rocked on her heels and asked "Well, we're here. So... what's the plan, again? Just walk right in and get the shit kicked out of us? Or maybe we could keep gawking at them from the shadows like a bunch of fucking peeping toms until they start conveniently shouting out all of the details of their evil plans for us to hear?" "I know," said John, sighing, "we're probably wasting our time. But I wanted to get a look at things, you know, maybe find a way in. If you don't look, you never find out." "Well, we could steal some disguises, right? Beat up some Blue Shirts and take their, well, blue shirts," asked Cleo. John shook his head, saying "I don't think so. That kind of shit only works in the movies. They'd have to be pretty stupid to fall for it." Cleo tilted her head and bit her lip, replying "Yeah, maybe. But I think you're greatly underestimating how stupid real people can be. You know, I used to sneak into places all the time, kinda a hobby of mine. And I found that if you just act like you belong, and look like you belong, then pretty much nobody will question you." John rolled his eyes and laughed briefly, saying "You know what? You've convinced me. I mean, it's probably our only option at this point anyway. But I should probably mention that the Blue Shirts know me. After you kick the shit out of people enough times, they tend to remember your face. And I wasn't exactly a background figure in last night's battle. They'd remember me." Cleo put a hand to her chin and thought for a moment, before shooting John a sly smile. "The Blue Shirts have female members, right?" she asked. John nodded, and replied "Yeah, a few. Why?" "Well, they'd definitely remember a Red Sleeve like you, but they probably wouldn't recognize me. I could do some skulking around, no problem." John shook his head, replying "No way. If that guy on the metro managed to remember you from last night's battle, then chances are that someone else will." "Oh, come on," replied Cleo, smiling, "that was just one guy, and the only reason that he remembered me was 'cause I messed up his face. Other than that, I really didn't get involved with the fight beyond a few punches and kicks here and there, so I doubt that in all of the chaos anyone other than him would remember my face." John thought about it, shaking his head slightly as he looked down and exhaled. "Face it; i'm the only shot you've got of finding out whatever it is that you're trying to learn from spying on the Blue Shirts," continued Cleo. Though her voice was confident, her eyes were narrowed slightly as if she was tired or in pain, and she was rubbing her ribs with one of her hands. John looked up at her, noticing her discomfort, and asked "You sure you're up for it?" "Yeah," said Cleo, lowering her hand from her ribs, "definitely. Like the doc said, it's not so bad. I'll take care of it later." A few minutes later, the plan was being carried out with masterful skill. Wearing the clothes of an unlucky Blue Shirt who happened to be taking a leak in the alley beside the abandoned building (who was, after being knocked out, locked in one of the abandoned building's rooms), Cleo walked into the hideout with an air of confidence. Just as she had thought, almost nobody gave her any trouble at all, save for a sentry near the front door. "Who the fuck are you?" he asked, putting his hands on his belt as he scanned her up and down. "Cleo," she responded. The man shook his head, and replied "I didn't ask for your name. I asked who the fuck you were. Let me guess... a new blood, right? Some asshole's little sister, looking to prove herself?" Cleo narrowed her eyes. "It's none of your fucking business, but yeah, I guess I am. My brother's John," she said, figuring that one of the Blue Shirts had to have that name, since it's pretty popular in this story (two people have that name so far, and counting). The sentry laughed, saying "First of all, it is my business. Everyone and everything that comes through that door is my business. And secondly... John (make that three)? Really? That fucker can't even lift a match without breaking a sweat; I can't even imagine how pathetic his sister must be." Cleo sensed that a display of strength was called for, and so she punched the sentry in his nose, sending him to the floor. "Don't ever talk about my brother like that. And, more importantly, don't ever talk about me like that. You hear?" The sentry quickly got back to his feet and rubbed his nose, saying "Damn, girl! You're lucky i'm a gentleman, otherwise I'd make you pay for that cheap-shit sucker punch. Anyway, you're a hell of a lot stronger than your brother, that's for damn sure. You keep on laying people flat, and filling out that blue shirt as well as you do, and I'll be glad to see you stick around for awhile." Cleo stuck to her rough persona and ignored him, brushing her way past a few Blue Shirts as she ventured further into the hideout. Last edited by Oriphiel; 06-27-2015 at 01:24 PM.

06-26-2015, 01:36 PM	#17 (permalink)
Oriphiel Ask me how! Join Date: Oct 2014 Location: The States Posts: 5,354	We're now twelve chapters in, and yet a coherent plot has yet to be revealed! Honestly, I don't really know where i'm going with this weird tale of blood and diamonds, but i'm determined to see it through to the end. Or at the very least, I can satisfy my curiosity as to just how far I can get before it becomes too convoluted to salvage. As always, if anyone has any questions, comments, or general feedback, feel free to scribble your thoughts on a paper airplane and throw it my way. You have my apologies in advance for any hilarious errors, typos, or plot-holes you may find throughout my entries, as I have an awful habit of not catching those until days (or even weeks) after posting them. Chapter Twelve Cleo was making good time as she navigated her way through the dark hideout, running into relatively few problems. However, every step she took seemed to make her feel progressively worse, as her wound continually flared up in a strange mix of numbness and sharp pain. More than anything, she wanted to find a bed to collapse in, preferably in a genuine hospital, but her curiosity drove her onward. Figuring that the most well defended place in the hideout held the most valuable information, she turned her attention to a certain hallway where two guards were posted, and became determined to find out what was behind the door they were standing beside. Her mind raced with plans and possibilities as she thought of how to get past the two guards. Luckily for her, she didn't have to do a thing; the door swung open, and a man walked out of the room with a distressed demeanor. As he began to walk towards the corner around which Cleo was spying on the guards, she quickly started to withdraw from the scene. However, as she turned to leave, she felt a wave of unease fall upon her. She felt more tired then ever and held back the urge to vomit, all while trying to evade the man walking towards her (who would probably ask her who she was and why she was snooping around the guarded and obviously important room down the hall, and she was currently in no shape to fast talk her way out of trouble). Her fears soon disappeared as the man turned the corner and proceeded to walk right past her without noticing her in the slightest, obviously distracted by something he was tossing around in his mind. Cleo was about to sigh, however as her urge to vomit had returned she suspected that she'd probably end up releasing more than just an exhalation. She took a few steps back and sat down, pressing her back to the wall and putting her hands on her forehead as she tried to relax. As she did so, she began to hear the guards around the corner talking in low voices. She leaned towards the corner and listened intently: "I don't think so. No way. He's one of the best, you know? I've got no doubt in my mind that he'll pull through." "Oh come on, man. This dank fucking falling apart hideout smells bad enough without you throwing bullshit around. You heard the same as I did; the Boss' three best assassins are on his ass now. He's got no chance." "Did he say three? I thought he said two. Either way, Luke'll beat 'em just like he took down the Jones brothers last year." "Fuck the Jones brothers. And yeah, he definitely said three. I mean, come on, this door is so fucking thin i'm surprised you couldn't hear the fucking beads of sweat hitting the floor." Before the other guard could respond, a voice from behind the door said "You're quite right; the door to my office is rather thin. After this business with Luke is taken care of, I think I'll replace it with something that has a bit more heft to it. That way, I won't be able to hear your screams when you're being mercilessly tortured down the hallway." Both of the guards straightened up, and one of them was deeply frightened by the Boss' words. The other guard shot him a reassuring smirk and said in a very low voice "Don't worry, man. Even if he changes the door, the walls are still thin as fuck. He'll hear our screams just fine." Cleo stood up and pressed a palm into her forehead. While she was still in pain, she now felt slightly better, and started to take a few steps. She figured that if she could catch up with Luke and follow him without passing out, she might have a chance to make this mission worthwhile. After all, a Blue Shirt being hunted by his own people could easily be persuaded to switch sides. Her steps became quicker and more solid as she looked around for Luke, and she eventually found him near the entrance of the hideout. He was sitting at a sort of make-shift bar, a beer in his hand. Cleo nonchalantly moved through the crowd of Blue Shirts, trying as hard as possible to mask her pain as made her way out of the hideout, looking at Luke one last time before she walked out the door. She figured that he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, and tried to relax as she walked down the street. After stepping out of the Blue Shirts' line of sight, she brought her hands up to her ribs and lifted up the bottom of her shirt. Just as she expected, her wound looked much worse then before, and she now suspected that it was more serious than the "doctor" at the clinic had led her to believe. All she could do now was hope that none of her organs were damaged, and carry on until she could get to a hospital. She reached John's location and shot him a fake smile as he waved to her. He almost immediately noticed that she was nursing her ribs, and stepped forward to help her. "What happened? Did you get in a mix, and have to fuck someone up or something?" he asked. She raised an arm and replied "No. Well, I guess I did fuck up one guy's nose. But this is just from the fight on the metro." John narrowed his eyes and said "I thought the doc said it wasn't too serious?" Yeah," replied Cleo, "he did say something like that, didn't he? But while the first part of his advice wasn't all that great, I think the part when he recommended that I get to a hospital still has a ring of truth of it. Anyway, before I fall down and vomit to death or something, I've got some news. There's a guy having some drinks in there, Luke, who apparently pissed off his gang. Their boss is sending assassins after him. If you can get to him, I figure you've got a good chance of getting him on our side." "Sure," replied John, "just tell me what he looks like. I'll watch the hideout, and when he leaves, I'll tail him." Cleo nodded, saying "Yeah, alright. He's, uh... well, he's got a few cuts on his face, around one of his eyes. He's got brown hair, some stubble, and..." John's eyes widened when she mentioned the cuts, and he eventually cut her off (pun intended), saying "That's enough. I think I know him. In fact, he's pretty much the reason why I came out here. Right after that war we had with the Blue Shirts, I saw something of the most supremely fucking odd variety, and he's got the answers I need." "Well, that's fantastic," replied Cleo. "Anyway, I think my job here is done. I'm off to find some medical attention. Have fun." "Do you need any help?" asked John. "No," said Cleo, "I can make it. I feel like shit, but honestly, I feel better than I did back in the hideout. Right now, i'm more worried about how much the hospital is gonna charge me." John laughed, and replied "Don't worry about that. When this is all over, just tell me how much they put you back and I'll take care of it. After all, a deal is a deal." "Just don't make me bring a receipt," said Cleo as she walked away, "I always fucking lose those things." As Cleo left, John turned his attention to the hideout, and waited patiently for Luke to emerge. However, just then, there was a banging noise coming from nearby. "Let me out!" shouted the Blue Shirt that John and Cleo had knocked out earlier, as he banged on the locked door of the room they had left him in. As the clanging and shouting continued, John quickly walked over to the room and opened the door. A well placed kick later, John was back at his post, focusing intently on the door of the hideout down the street. Last edited by Oriphiel; 11-25-2015 at 09:36 PM.

06-29-2015, 12:47 PM	#18 (permalink)
Oriphiel Ask me how! Join Date: Oct 2014 Location: The States Posts: 5,354	I don't feel that great right now. It's times like these that I need something to distract myself with, so I guess it's time for some more ridiculous Hi-NRG and nonsensical writing. Here's a super cheesy yet oddly catchy song that I stumbled upon awhile back, along with a gloriously bad music video. Chapter Thirteen The aliens were continuing with their work in Luke's spare bedroom, save for Qez, who was searching through cabinets in the kitchen with one hand and holding a beer in the other. The other aliens dripped with sweat as they kept up their tireless pace in the hot apartment, and they took a few moments now and then to consume a type of flavorless nutrient paste provided by Heyt. Valk set down his soldering gun and wiped his brow, leaning back in his chair as he stretched and yawned. After quickly swallowing some of his ration of nutrient paste, he turned his attention towards the open door of the room. "Hey Qez," he shouted, "you alright?" Qez briefly glanced over her shoulder, before continuing her rummaging. "Uh, yeah. I feel a little better," she replied. Valk picked up his soldering gun, and before getting back to work said "Well, take as much time as you need. That was a pretty nasty fall you took. How's your arm feeling, anyway? Still too sore to start hauling again?" Qez looked down at her arm, which she was using to pry open the bottle of beer. "Uh, yeah. Still hurts like a fuckin' son of a dog. I'll be fine, though, just give me..." she stopped and flipped through a TV guide, looking at what was on today, and she noticed a few good shows coming up soon. "Ooh, nice," she whispered, before looking up towards the spare bedroom and continuing "Give me like, two hours, alright?" "Sure," replied Valk with a smile. As he continued soldering, he once again picked up a book with his free hand, the cover and pages of which were now warped by his sweat, and continued where he had left off. A delicious sandwich in hand, and a television in front of her, Qez yelled "Thanks. Hey, you guys make sure to enjoy that nutrient paste, alright?" Retix looked towards the doorway and gave a weak smile, amused yet obviously still in pain from her ceaseless headaches. She and the other aliens knew exactly what Qez was up to, yet they humored her and played along with it. After all, Qez was the youngest of them and tended to be treated with leniency, especially since her experiences during the war were the worst of all of them. Retix brushed back her hair before starting to work again, and shouted "Are you sure that you don't want us to save any for you?" "Oh yeah," replied Qez, lifting up her sandwich. "I'm sure." After having a few drinks and clearing his head, Luke stood up from the bar and prepared to leave. He wasn't too worried about being gunned down where he stood; he knew how the Boss' assassins handled their targets, and that they almost never carried out hits while inside the Blue Shirt's hideout. The Boss liked to have such things handled privately, away from where he did business, in a place where there were no Blue Shirts around with old loyalties who might feel obligated to jump into the fray. Though he rather felt like being alone as he walked back to his apartment, he was joined by an old friend of his, who he ran into in the street outside of the hideout. "Luke!" he shouted, sitting on the steps to an apartment building with a few other Blue Shirts. After Luke nodded towards him in acknowledgement, the man threw away the cigarette he was smoking and jogged towards his friend. "Hey, Luke! You alright?" he asked as he caught up to him. "Yeah," replied Luke, with his gaze fixed to the asphalt. "I'm good, Dave. It's just been a shitty day, born from a shitty night, you know?" "Yeah," replied Dave, "I heard about that shit that went down last night. And judging by the word on the street and that cut on your face, it seems like you really have been gettin' the shit kicked out of you lately. But that's old news, man. I mean, the universe is always tryin' the beat the hell out of you. Remember the Jones brothers, how they ambushed and almost gutted you? But no matter what shit gets thrown at you, you always make it through in the end." Luke glanced towards him and somewhat abruptly said "The Boss put out a hit on me." Dave's eyes widened slightly and he nodded his head, a grin appearing on his face. "No shit?" he asked with a air of excitement. "No shit," answered Luke. "Damn, that's fuckin' awesome, man!" shouted Dave. Luke looked at him and smiled back through a confused expression, saying "Well i'm glad someone is getting a laugh out of my impending doom." Dave stretched his arms and replied "No man, it's not like that. It's just... after you take out those assassins, your reputation is gonna hit the clouds! Nobody's ever gonna fuck with you, test you, ever again." "You're really that sure that i'm gonna get through this alive?" "No doubt in my mind, man. Not a single fuckin' doubt." Of course, John wasn't too pleased about the arrival of Luke's friend. His plan was to confront Luke a few blocks away from the Blue Shirt's hideout, when he was seperated from anyone in his gang that might be watching, and question him. In fact, after learning from Cleo that the leader of the Blue Shirts had put out a hit on Luke, John had hoped that he might even be able to convince him to join the Red Sleeves. A former member of high ranking like Luke could show them where most of the Blue Shirt's illicit operations were located, helping them to take out all of their sources of revenue, and also assisting them in the inevitable war between the gangs. But most importantly, John needed to know about the aliens. Did they actually exist, or were they just a hallucination? And if they were indeed real, then what exactly were they doing on Earth? He followed Luke and Dave in the shadows, waiting for his chance. As the two approached the building where Luke's apartment was located, they stopped and continued to talk beside the building's steps. Meanwhile, a street musician was playing a saxophone, and Dave made a few gestures to let him know that he wasn't impressed by his music. After a short amount of time had passed, the two friends went their seperate ways, and John prepared to follow his quarry. Luke walked up the steps and prepared to open the door to the apartment building, when he stopped in his tracks. After thinking for a moment, he turned around and walked away. John wasn't too surprised at his erratic behavior; he figured that Luke was starting to become paranoid of being ambushed by his would-be assassins. Following with as much stealth as possible, he watched as Luke climbed up the fire escape and crouched outside of a certain window. After scanning the inside of the apartment, Luke sighed with relief and knocked on the window pane. At this point, John had been hoping that what he had seen last night was simply the result of a tired mind and too many punches to the head, however a shiver ran across him as one of the aliens appeared on the other side of the window. Luke pointed to the latch and gestured which direction for the alien to pull it in, and the window was soon opened. Luke stepped into the apartment and closed the pane behind him, latching it shut. Of course, John wasted no time in silently making his way towards the window, crouching as he carefully looked into the apartment. "How did it go with your friends?" asked Qez. Luke rubbed his eyes and shook his head, replying "Not that great. They, uh... well, they're sending some people to come and kill me." Qez smiled, and said "That's wonderful!" Luke looked up at her in disbelief. "Why is everyone so happy about me getting filled with bullets?" he asked, putting a hand to his forehead. "Oh," said Qez, noticing Luke's stress and patting him on the back, "I didn't mean it like that. Your death would certainly make all of us stop and pause for a moment of reflection, maybe even for a whole minute. Anyway, your situation is good news because it puts you in a position where you would benefit from assistance. As we have been meaning to ask for your assistance in a certain matter, we now have the opportunity to fairly exchange services with each other." Luke looked at her with a questioning expression, asking "You mean, I help you aliens, and you all help me?" Qez nodded. "I already said I'd help all of you out," said Luke. Before Qez could respond, a voice to Luke's side said "You did, and you have helped us considerably by giving us a place where we can work in peace. However, we require more from you." Luke turned to face the speaker, recognizing the voice as belonging to Retix, who was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. "How much more?" he asked. "I'm afraid that our device needs considerably more resources than we currently have, and many of those necessary components are somewhat difficult for us to find as we are newcomers to this world. We need natives to assist us." "Natives?" asked Luke. "Yes," interjected Heyt, who had just stepped out of the spare bedroom. "We need people, and as many as possible. Do you, by chance, have any friends that don't want to kill you?" "Yeah," replied Luke with narrowed eyes, "I do. In fact, if I survive this attack, I'll have the whole gang on my side again." "Splendid," replied Heyt, though he sounded more tired than excited. "Consider it a deal, then. We'll protect you, in exchange for access to these friends of yours." Luke scratched his head, and said "Uh, well... it's not that simple. They're not just gonna run a bunch of errands for me unless I can..." Suddenly, he was interrupted by a knock on the door, and a voice exclaimed "Pizza delivery." Luke looked at Qez and sighed as he began to walk towards the door, however she quickly put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him. "Uh, Luke? I didn't call for a pizza," she said. The doorway exploded in a cloud of splinters, sending Luke and Qez to the ground. A woman rushed into the apartment with a smile on her face and reckless abandon in her heart, as well as a shotgun in her hands. Luke crawled backwards behind cover, and made his way towards a pistol that he kept in a drawer. He could tell that she was wearing bulletproof armor underneath her clothes, and he knew that probably nothing short of a bullet to the head would be sure to put the assassin down. Qez quickly got to her feet and rushed the assassin, who sent her back to the ground with a powerful shot to the stomach. Snapping the lever action of her shotgun down and up as she turned, the assassin fired another shot towards Retix and Heyt. Though the shot hit them and stopped them for a moment, they seemed relatively unharmed. The assassin wasn't startled in the least by the appearances of the aliens or their durability, since she had already seen firsthand that a well placed blast could send them backwards just as it would to a human. Unfortunately for her, Qez was far from dead, and the angry alien got to her feet and quickly closed the distance between her and the assassin. Luke opened the drawer, but found nothing inside. He quickly realized that someone (Qez) had gone through almost every drawer and cabinet in the kitchen, carelessly throwing the contents around as if looking for something (food), and he began to look around for wherever the gun might have been placed. Qez rushed the assassin and grappled with her, eventually slamming her against the wall. The other aliens, who had been working when the assassin attacked, were now joining the fight as well. The assassin collected herself and fired off as many shots as she could, now frantically fighting for her life. The aliens were much more powerful than they looked, and Qez broke one of the assassin's arms with relatively little force. Using her last bit of energy, the assassin fought off Qez, Retix, and Heyt, using her final shot to get them off of her. This time, the shot didn't simply push them away from her; the blast also left Qez with a wound in her side. The assassin used the opportunity to dash for the door. However, just before she could escape, Tyl lifted up some sort of alien weapon and fired an energy blast towards her. The assassin was knocked off of her feet, hitting a wall before hitting the ground. Her right hand and the majority of her right leg seemed to vanish, and the whole right side of her body was littered with burns. It was then that Luke found his pistol, tossed haphazardly into an empty bag that once contained chips. No longer having a need for it, he left it there, and stood up as he looked around the apartment. Qez noticed him looking at her wound. She looked down and pressed her hand against the bleeding injury, commenting "Damn shield needed time to recharge after taking that first shot dead on." "You'll be fine," spoke Retix, as she and the others helped her into the spare bedroom, presumably to perform medical procedures. Valk, however, stayed back from the rest of them, and knelt down over the assassin. "You okay?" asked Luke. "Thinking," replied Valk. After a few moments, he bent forward and picked up the assassin, who seemed to still be alive, carefully carrying her into the spare bedroom. Luke rubbed his eyes for awhile, before reluctantly following the aliens into their workshop. John had witnessed the entire event, and didn't quite know how to proceed. He could confront Luke and offer to help, but they might take him for an assassin and kill him out of caution. Besides, he had no idea what the motives of the aliens were, only that he had overheard them saying that they needed more resources and humans to help acquire them. Unbeknownst to him, he was not the only person watching the scene from afar; there was a man in a room in a building across the street from Luke's apartment complex, spying on the events with binoculars. "Fuck," said the man as the fight came to a close. He shook his head, saying "Goodbye, Sam. You always were too fucking reckless." "We should have attacked at once, Stan, like I recommended," said a voice behind him. Stan laughed, replying "No, because that would have been the smart thing to do. Sam always had to try her best to fuck everything up for us, begging us to let her take the first shot and prove herself... guess we don't have to worry about that shit anymore, right Jason?" Jason shrugged, saying "I don't disagree. I'll still miss her, though. Nobody could put together a mixtape like she could." Stan gave him a brief smile, before looking down at the ground. "So, what now?" asked Jason. Stan stopped for a moment to think about what he had seen through his binoculars; he could have sworn that Sam fired right at those weird looking people helping Luke, yet only one of them was injured. And that blast that killed Sam was unsettling. It seemed to seriously burn her, yet the surrounding apartment was somehow not scorched from the shot. "Those fuckers who killed Sam... there's something off about them. They're wearing this shiny clothing, some kind of fucking armor... I mean, it doesn't look like much, like somethin' out of a fantasy novel, but it can take a hell of a lot of damage. And they've got some kind of weapon... I've never seen anything like it." "You were the one with the eyes," replied Jason, gesturing towards Stan's binoculars. "Who do you think they were?" Stan bit his lip and thought about it, before answering "Rival gang would be the best bet, but I didn't recognize their style. Maybe they're from out of town, looking to expand and using Luke as a contact..." Jason scratched his chin, and asked "You think Luke is a traitor, helping another gang move in?" Stan shrugged, replying "Well, he hasn't been on good terms with the Boss for awhile now, ever since that time that the Boss killed one of his friends for insubordination. And with the shit that happened last night... I wouldn't be surprised if other gangs have been contacting him for awhile, and i'm thinkin' that last night he finally said yes. After calling a war without permission, and getting his ass kicked, he knew that the Boss would try to take him out, and so after losing the battle he asked for help." "I don't know," said Jason, "to me, it just doesn't really add up. But it's clear that these are no ordinary gangbangers. If a well equipped gang has their eyes on our territory, and is making a move, I think the Boss will want to know about it." Stan nodded, and handed Jason his binoculars, saying "You're right. Since i'm the one that saw what happened, and got a good look at those crazy fuckers, I'll do it. You stay here and keep an eye on them." "What about the guy outside the window?" asked Jason. Stan laughed, and replied "The Red Sleeve? Fuck him. He's probably following Luke, looking for revenge or some shit. I'm guessing that seeing Sam get blown to bits probably took his nerve from him, so I doubt that he'll make a move or get in our way. But by all means, if he hasn't run away already, feel free to kill him if you want. I'll be back in a bit." Last edited by Oriphiel; 07-01-2015 at 01:09 PM.

07-01-2015, 09:33 AM	#19 (permalink)
Oriphiel Ask me how! Join Date: Oct 2014 Location: The States Posts: 5,354	It was only a matter of time before I played this song... Chapter Fourteen John was sitting on a street bench, looking around with a calm yet alert gaze. He had taken off his denim jacket earlier while spying on Luke, due to the extreme heat that had come over the city as the sun rose higher into the sky. However, despite the discomfort the jacket caused him, he decided that taking it off had been a foolish mistake. The other two assassins had yet to reveal themselves and were surely lurking around nearby, but his caution also stemmed from the simple fact that he was still in Blue Shirt territory and could be recognized at any second. He dropped his hands down onto his legs and started drumming with his fingers, waiting for his reinforcements to arrive. As the time seemed to pass very slowly, and the heat bore down on him without relent, he felt a wave of relief when finally he spotted two familiar faces near the metro platform. He bent forward onto his knees and raised a hand to motion them towards him. Of course, he didn't have the luxury of being able to call in every single Red Sleeve that he was on good terms with; he knew that the circumstances were beyond believability, and that he could only call in the people who would back his play regardless. Also, he figured that calling in an army of Red Sleeves would simply get them blasted apart by the aliens, while also kicking off yet another war with the Blue Shirts. If he was going to figure out the aliens motivations, while simultaneously exploiting Luke's estranged relationship with the Blue Shirts to get him to join the Red Sleeves, then he needed more subtlety and finesse than a bloodthirsty war party would allow. "Hey!" said Ricardo as he and Jackson, one of the new bloods, approached John. John stood up and stretched, smiling slightly as he greeted them back with a nod. Ricardo was known for being a heavy hitter, having a reputation that painted him as nothing more than a brute that got the job done, however John knew him better than that. John had also been slated as brainless muscle when he had first joined, and he recognized in Ricardo the same intelligence and instinct that had been initially overlooked in himself during his time as an enforcer. He had called in the new blood because he felt that he knew him well enough to trust him, and also because new members were always eager to do whatever was asked of them, in the hopes of distinguishing themselves and garnering favor. "So, what's going down?" asked Ricardo, as he fussed with the canvas jacket covering his colors. "You were pretty vague on the phone." John nodded his head towards the street, saying "Come on," as he started to walk. The others followed him, and he continued talking as he led them towards Luke's apartment. "Last night, while you were finishing off the Blue Shirts," he said, looking at Ricardo, "I followed the leader of their war party after he tried to slip away. I tailed him to an alley, where he collapsed. However, before I could take him out, there was a flash of light. These... things stepped out of the light, and..." "Things?" asked Ricardo, smiling and narrowing his eyes. Though Jackson was also listening intently, he didn't seem nearly as curious. "Yeah," continued John, "things. Best I can figure, they're aliens of some kind, and they've got firepower like you wouldn't believe. They've also got some sort of shield around them. At first, I thought it was their weird clothing that protected them, kinda like armor, but now I think it's actually some kind of barrier, one that can get punched through with repeated force." Ricardo thought for a moment, before shrugging and nodding, saying "Alright." "You believe me?" asked John in a tone of voice that implied that he already knew the answer. "Hell no," replied Ricardo, "I never did buy into any of that alien shit people talk about nowadays. It's just sci-fi movie bullshit, you know? But even if I don't believe you, I still trust you. There are weird lookin' people out there with good weapons, then I say that they're probably just a gang that got their hands on some of that fancy military tech, you know? If you think they're threat to the Red Sleeves, or at the very least a good challenge, then i'm game." John looked back at Jackson, who was being rather silent, to see how he felt about the situation. Jackson simply shrugged in agreement. "Well alright," said John through a smile. "Anyway, the plan is to confront them. I've been skulking around in the shadows long enough, and it's time that I finally made sense of all of this. I'd rather not start a fight with them, seeing as how they've got a crazy laser gun, so try to stay calm and follow my lead. I don't think they'll attack us, since they seem to be looking for potential allies to help them out with some plan of theirs, but... well, it still might get ugly. They're working with a Blue Shirt named Luke, who is currently being attacked by assassins sent by his leader." "No shit?" asked Ricardo, laughing. "What'd he do to piss the big man off?" John shrugged, and replied "Probably getting his ass kicked in last night's battle. Caused the Blue Shirts to lose a lot of respect, you know? Anyway, they're on the lookout for assassins, and they might peg us for the next wave. Like I said though, just follow my lead and we'll be fine. If we play our cards right, we could gain a serious edge against the Blue Shirts today." "Groovy," said Ricardo, and the three Red Sleeves continued on their way to Luke's apartment, the silence between them broken every now and then by the occasional nervous joke. Even though Ricardo didn't really believe that aliens were walking the earth, and Jackson seemed to be relatively calm about everything, they both suspected that they were in for a serious fight all the same. While Stan was leaving to report back to the Boss, Jason had looked out the window with the binoculars and noticed that the Red Sleeve spy had disappeared; at this time, John had realized that he needed help, and left the scene to call for reinforcements using a nearby payphone. Stan made his way back to the Blue Shirt's headquarters, thinking of just what exactly he was going to say to the Boss. As the hideout wasn't terribly far from Luke's apartment, it didn't take Stan very long to reach his destination. Standing in front of the Boss' desk, he decided to forgo nuance; he simply told the Boss exactly what he had seen, suggesting that there was some strange new gang in town with high-tech weapons. The Boss, oddly enough, seemed to take the news rather well; without saying anything, he simply smiled and let Stan carry on uninterrupted. As Stan reached the end of his report, the Boss stood up from his chair and grabbed a sawed off shotgun from one of his desk's drawers. "Get some men," he said to Stan. "I want to see these trespassers with my own eyes." "Boss, I don't think that's..." began Stan, before the Boss signaled him to stop by raising a hand. "It's quite alright. Luke tried to tell me that he had met some characters last night, people that he believed could assist us in our endeavors. And considering the ease with which they apparently decimated Sam, I'd say he was correct. For now, the hit on Luke is suspended; I want to meet his acquaintances. If they do indeed possess the powerful weapons and armor that you saw them use, then I think they would make powerful allies. And if they don't have those resources, or if they aren't to my liking, then we'll simply execute them for entering our territory uninvited." Stan nodded, and left the office to gather up a war party. As the Red Sleeves were approaching the apartment complex, John beckoned them to stop. "Over there," he said, pointing to a Blue Shirt leaning against the building. "Probably a scout or guard. I doubt an assassin would be standing around in his colors, watching the streets," said Jackson. "Definitely," added Ricardo, "but he shouldn't be too much trouble to take care of." However, as soon as he said that, two more Blue Shirts came into view; they seemed to be patrolling the area. After looking around, the Red Sleeves noticed even more of them, posted around the exterior of the building. "Damn," said Ricardo with a sigh. "You think they're here to spy on Luke, make sure that the assassins finish the job?" asked Jackson, but John shook his head. "I don't think so. There's way too many of them for just a recon job." "You think something went down while you were waiting for us to show up?" asked Ricardo. "Maybe," replied John with a shrug. He scanned the scene, looking for a place where he could see into Luke's apartment. The fire escape was out of the picture; it was too out in the open, and they'd have to pass a few guards to get to it. However, he noticed that there was a building near the apartment complex, seperated by a street. The rooms in the side of the building facing the street had windows, and one such room was lined up perfectly with the window of Luke's apartment. "Come on. I've got an idea," said John, as he led the Red Sleeves away. Last edited by Oriphiel; 08-05-2015 at 11:02 AM.

07-01-2015, 05:49 PM	#20 (permalink)
Oriphiel Ask me how! Join Date: Oct 2014 Location: The States Posts: 5,354	I never expected this to happen, but... after listening to all of this Disco, i'm actually starting to really like it. I must be going insane. Here's a fun song by Tapps, a Hi-NRG/Synth Pop trio from Canada! Chapter Fifteen Ricardo popped a piece of chewing gum into his mouth, leaning against the wall beside him with crossed arms. "Where'd you learn to do that?" he asked John, who was slowly but silently picking the lock to the door of the apartment with the fortuitous window. John smiled, and without taking his eyes off of his work replied "I'm a criminal. It's what I do." Ricardo laughed, saying "Oh, come on. Hell, i'm a criminal and I don't know how to do that shit." "Allow me to rephrase that; i'm a good criminal," replied John. Ricardo rolled his eyes and jokingly punched John's arm, saying "Fuck you, man." Just then, the lock clicked open, and John carefully opened the door. The Red Sleeves cautiously walked inside the apartment, and luckily for them it seemed as though nobody was home. John immediately made his way towards a window on the far side of the apartment. As he did so, Jackson started opening doors, saying "You do your spying thing. I've gotta take a leak," as he searched for the bathroom. Unfortunately for the Red Sleeves, this was the same apartment that Jason, the assassin, had been using to spy on Luke from afar. Of course, after hearing them unlock the door, he quickly ducked into a hiding space; he knew that it couldn't be Stan opening the door, since he had seen him entering Luke's apartment complex with the Boss. After scanning the scene and seeing who the intruders were, he decided that he could take them. Stepping out of his cover, he punched John in the throat and kicked him hard in the chest, sending him falling to the floor. Ricardo grabbed a vase off of the kitchen counter and threw it at Jason, who dodged it with ease. Jason then pulled out a silenced pistol from his shoulder holster and fired a shot at Ricardo, who jumped over the counter and took cover. Right as the fight had started, Jackson had opened the door to the apartment's closet in his search for the bathroom, and when Jason started to attack he quickly grabbed a baseball bat that had been stashed inside. Just as Jason was turning to shoot him, Jackson threw the baseball bat while rushing forward and closing the distance between him and his attacker. The skilled assassin shifted to the side and fired a few shots, however the bat hit his shoulder, causing him to miss. Jackson tackled him, and the two fell backwards into a nearby table. He then reached for Jason's gun, just barely managing to knock it out of the assassin's grip before he could shoot Jackson in the head. Ricardo ran out from behind his cover to join the fight, however, as he drew near, Jason kicked him in the groin. "Fuck!" yelled Ricardo as he struggled to stay on his feet. Jason continued grappling with Jackson, before striking him in the nose with his palm, and pushing him away. John stood up, rubbing his neck and struggling to regain his breath and balance. Jason looked around for his pistol, and eventually spotted it nearby on the floor. Ricardo also saw the gun, and refused to let the assassin reach it; he stumbled forward just as the assassin was dashing towards it, and tried to keep him at bay. Though he was in no shape to stop Jason, who elbowed him in the jaw, Ricardo still managed to kick the pistol backwards, into the kitchen. Jason threw Ricardo to the side and continued after the gun, only to be tackled from behind by John, sending them both crashing forward into a mess of pots, dishes, and silverware. Jason slammed John's head into a cabinet under the sink, however it wasn't enough to incapacitate him; just as the assassin reached his pistol, John picked up a frying pan and swung it at him, hitting him hard in the side of his head. After one more swing, the assassin was down for good. John let the pan fall from his grip, and fell back to the ground in a heap of relief. Ricardo stumbled into the kitchen and looked down at the defeated assassin. "Nice," he said with a smile. "Pan fried asshole." John looked at him incredulously, saying "That's the worst joke I've heard all day, and I've heard some pretty shitty ones." "Hey," replied Ricardo as he helped John up, "you try coming up with a pun on the spot, after being kicked in the balls." "Hey, guys," said Jackson, pressing a hand to his bleeding nose, "you both alright?" As he and Ricardo began to converse, John noticed a pair of binoculars on the ground near the window, and used them to look into Luke's apartment. Just as he had suspected, there was something important going down; inside the room was a large amount of Blue Shirts, including their leader (who John recognized, as he had seen him once before while providing muscle for the Red Sleeves' leader during a meeting between the two). Because the Blue Shirts had arrived before him, and because the assassin had further stalled him, John witnessed the meeting as it was coming to a close. While he obviously couldn't hear what was being said, and he had no idea how much he'd missed, he still saw something that told him all he needed to know; before leaving the apartment, the leader of the Blue Shirts shook hands with one of the aliens and was handed one of their rifles, smiling all the while. "Luke," said the Boss as he stood in the apartment's splintered door frame, a war party of Blue Shirts behind him. This was before the Red Sleeves had reached their vantage point. Luke was sitting on his couch (which had been moved to face the door) next to Qez, who seemed to be holding an alien weapon not unlike the one that Tyl had used earlier. In Luke's lap was a bag of chips. As soon as the Boss appeared in the doorway, Qez had lifted up her weapon. "Another friend?" she asked Luke. "Yeah," he replied, a confused expression on his face as he was expecting more assassins to arrive, but not the Boss himself. Qez's gun started to hum as if it was charging up for a shot. "Wait," said Luke. Qez shrugged, and the humming ceased. "Thank you for not shooting me," said the Boss in a calm voice. "My men tried to persuade me to let them deal with this matter themselves, that it was too dangerous for me to handle in person. They don't know me as well as you do, Luke. They'll never be able to understand why, despite our animosity towards each other, you'll never be able to take my life." Luke glared at the Boss, who smiled and stepped further into the room. Qez's gun stayed fixed on him, and he glanced at her, asking "I'm assuming that she's one of your friends from out of town?" Before either of them could answer, Heyt stepped out of the guest bedroom, holding an alien rifle. "You're correct," he said. The Blue Shirts behind the Boss were understandably worried, however none of them dared to say a word. "Is there something you wished to discuss with us?" he continued. The Boss scanned him up and down, and glanced at Qez once more. Though he was still calm, he seemed somewhat taken aback after taking a good look at them. "You really aren't just gangsters with fancy tech, are you?" he asked, gripping his shotgun tightly. "I am affiliated with no criminal organizations, and as far as I know, neither are any of my compatriots. However," Heyt said, lifting up his rifle, "our tech is indeed quite 'fancy', as i'm sure a demonstration would prove..." The Blue Shirts behind the Boss became tense, and the ones that held firearms quickly lifted them towards Heyt. Both Luke and the Boss assured their allies to calm down, and the conversation continued. "There's no need for a demonstration. Perhaps later," said the Boss. "Now," he continued, "early this morning, Luke mentioned that he had met a group of newcomers to this city who were all very skilled with technology, and that they might be willing to lend me these skills of theirs. At first, I dismissed his words as being empty, but now I find myself intrigued by the offer. That is, if the offer still stands." At this point, more of the aliens had left the guest bedroom, each one holding a weapon. Heyt shot Retix a glance, before looking back at the Boss. "How many men do you command?" he asked. The Boss smiled, and replied "Quite a few. We own this whole section of the city, and the day is fast approaching when we shall seize control of the entirety. It's rare for us to ever be defeated or lose ground to other gangs, although," he shot a glance at Luke before continuing, "it does happen from time to time." Valk looked at the others, and said "This might be exactly what we've been hoping for." "Yes," replied Heyt, "and it might also be the very thing that dooms us." "We don't have a choice," replied Retix as she nursed her headache. After a moment, Heyt looked at the Boss and said "We need allies to find resources for us, as many as possible. And it would seem that you are quite envious of our technology. We can make you weapons... guns that require no ammunition, and depending on how you set them, they can also be used in a variety of combat situations. Is this an amicable arrangement?" The Boss smiled and said "I may be interested in your guns, but I haven't seen for myself what they're truly capable of. For all I know, they're not really worth the trouble. Perhaps you would be willing to give that demonstration you mentioned earlier?" Qez, without any hesitation, pulled the trigger on her rifle, and it began to hum. The aliens quickly moved out of the way, and Qez fired a concussive blast that knocked all of the Blue Shirts to the ground. As they looked up at her, she flipped a toggle on her rifle, setting it to destroy organic life, and said "That was a non-lethal shot. Of course, when it's set to it's lethal default, it can fire without any cautionary delay. Would you like to see?" The Boss smiled at her as he got back to his feet, saying "I think I'll test that function out on my own." Looking at Heyt, he asked "Do the lethal shots pierce through armor?" Heyt nodded, saying "The default is set to damage only organic tissue, but you can also set it to vaporize everything in front of you, if that is your preference." "Well," said the Boss, "it would seem that these weapons are definitely worth acquiring, if further testing proves the rest of the functions of these guns to be as promising as your friend's demonstration of the non-lethal mode. And that being the case, I think that we could certainly do business with each other." "Good," said Heyt. "We'll give you one rifle, and you can decide after testing it whether or not you want more. I suspect that you will. If so, we have our own projects to take care of, but we will craft as many weapons as possible for you with whatever free time we have. As long as you focus your attention on gathering our resources, that is." "We'll uphold our part of the deal, and you shall soon have whatever it is that you're looking for," said the Boss, smiling. He then stretched out his hand towards Heyt, who looked down at it with a slight expression of disgust. "Do we have a deal?" asked the Boss. Heyt knew the gesture that the Boss was making, and eventually forced himself to shake his hand. The Boss laughed, saying "Good." Last edited by Oriphiel; 01-18-2016 at 09:22 AM.