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| Thread: CORE (IC) |  This thread is pages long: 1 2 3 4 5 · NEXT» |
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Mytical
Responsible
Undefeatable Hero
Chaos seeking Harmony
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posted December 18, 2010 01:20 PM |
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CORE (IC)
The sense of amazement, wonder, and awe had faded fast. Not so the fear. Debris had finally stopped falling after three days. The damage was minimal, but the panic had not been. All over the world, people had stood in shock as the huge UFO had disappeared in a fiery explosion.
However, the escape pods were not missed. People had seen them, and Governments everywhere were already mobilizing 'Retrieval Squads'. ALL off the book, and on their own if they got caught. Their job..find the escape pods, and secure them..along with any other debris from the ship they could manage.
Already scientist were trying to plot trajectory, and figure out where exactly these pods would have come down. Places all over the world would at least get one pod, some two or three. However, the pods had flown erratically, as if either pilots or some sort of program had been guiding them. There were some best guesses, but nobody knew exactly where each had fallen. One even landed in the middle of the Pacific Ocean...
It's a race against time, everybody is after the Pods. Who knows if any of the Aliens survived..and might destroy or hide any of the precious tech that the pods might possess.
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Message received.
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War-overlord
Responsible
Undefeatable Hero
Presidente of Isla del Tropico
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posted December 18, 2010 10:26 PM |
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20 jan. 11:12
Stef de Wit was sitting in a corner in a pub somewhere in the West End. A half-full pint sitting in front of him, Stef was unwinding before work. His cigar was resting on the ashray at the moment and Stef was glad there were some pubs still resisting the smoking ban.
Then his mobile phone went of. He quickly picked it up.
"Stef."
"Harry! Yeah, Ok. You're not going through with the deal. To many what? Yeah, so? Ofcourse I've seen it, it was like bloody newyears eve. Yeah, but they'll be busy with something else, now won't they. Well they were gonna be shipped tonight. Yeah, fine, yes, yes, I'll tell Vinnie, but he's not gonna be happy. Well you know how short his fuse is. I'll see what I can do. No, I'm not making any promisses. Who do you think I am? Superman? If Vinnie gets mad, I'm gonna be on the safe side and preferably in another room. Yes, I'll see what I can do. Goodbye."
Stef's mood was ruined. Now he had to make a phonecall to his boss he did not particularly want to. Taking a gulp from his pint and taking a long pull on his cigar, he dialed Vinnie's number.
"Vinnie? Stef."(Translation from the Dutch conversation: )
"They're canceling the deal. Some bull about there being to many agents around. That's what I told him. Yeah, that too. What was I supposed to do, force them down his throat? I know that would be fun, but that won't make us any money. You what? Oh. <sigh> Course I can get rid of them, it's me. It might take some time. Yeah, yeah, well I was supposed to get something from you anyway. No, no. The hired help is about as usefull as a bunch of monkeys in skirts. Right, but that's the only thing they're good for. Well if you keep paying them, I'm gonna find some use for them eventually. That would help. Right, usual cut. I still gotta eat. Ok, I'll see that something is done about it. Thanks, bye."
Another long pull from the cigar. This was not going to be Stef's day.
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Vote El Presidente! Or Else!
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Kipshasz
Undefeatable Hero
Elvin's Darkside
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posted December 19, 2010 09:33 PM |
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James woke up with a dry mouth. He expected that the hangover would be much worse. He and his employees were celebrating what is called "the booking", a new employee's initiation to the company. It went pretty well without much damage to the pub they were celebrating in, if we don't count several broken glasses.
After a shower, James emptied a fresh pack of pineapple juice, putted on a robe and went outside to get his mail. Just as he picked it up and read the headline of the newspaper ("UFO over London- a warning or a sign?"), he was approached by mrs. McBeth, Jame's nosy and snobish elderly neighbour.
- Mister Drake, I'd like to have a few words with you.
- Mornin' to you to Mrs. McBeth.- He said while reading the newspaper.- How can I be of service today?
- Mister Drake, we are tired of your so called hobby.- She was very frustrated.- your cars are disturbing the peace and quiet of our neighbourhood.
- Who's 'we'?- James asked while reading the political news.- the only complaints come from you. None of the other neighbours have complained. Neither did I received any warnings from our constable.
- Mister Drake, I mean it! Here- She showed some papers- Is a petition for your eviction from our neighbourhood. If we hear anymore of that racket at your home, there will be serious consequences!
- Whatever you say mrs. McBeth. I doubt that you'll succeed.- James folded the newspaper- Have a nice day.- He walked away and mumbled something similiar to "bloody snobs".
All this fuss was about James's latest project, a busted, runned down piece of crap that once was a Plymouth Roadrunner. The engine was still in good shape, and James was sure that it can be revived. Unfortunately, it refused to work longer than several minutes. But James was a stubborn man, and would not rest untill it would work like a bee.
After a breakfast and a change of clothing, he sat in his "workhorse", a yellow Ford Transit. It was with an ad of his company. It read: "Drake's handymen- for all your repair needs". There also was the company's phone number and office address. The company's logo was a cartoonish worker in blue shirt and overals, a tool belt and an orange helmet. It flexed his left arm and held a pipewrench in the right one.
James drew out of his yard and drove to the office. After the UFO caused damage there were a heap of orders to fulfill.
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"Kip is the Gavin McInnes of HC" - Salamandre
"Ashan to the Trashcan", "I got PTSD from H7. " - LizardWarrior
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wog_edn
Promising
The Nothingness
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posted December 19, 2010 10:06 PM |
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"Excuse me, sir. I will have to ask you to leave."
Jonas Nilsen had touched the mans shoulder to get his attention, his voice calm but strict. The other man looked as if he might think to object, or possibly start something, but Jonas shook his head as if reading his mind.
"That would not be a good idea." he said, looking into the other mans eyes. "I would have to call the cops on you and you would for sure regret this tomorrow."
Again the other man hesitated, not sure what to do exactly. Jonas handles these kind of men daily, drunks and trouble-starters not sure how to act when faced with reason. Mostly they did what he told them to and left, but a few of them decided they wanted to create some kind of trouble. They had helped give him his reputation as a bloody tough viking! This one seemed to be one of those, which his eyes revealed a second before his actions. That was enough for Jonas to see it coming, and he put the man in an armbar the minute the strike came.
"Hey Mickey, call the cops will ya?" Jonas asked the bartender, who nodded and picked up his cellphone.
People in the bar barely watched, as most of them were used to some kind of trouble. Whenever it ended too quickly the fun was gone. Jonas watched the tv while holding the man down, they were still going on about the UFO having exploded over the city. The man struggled to get free and Jonas simply leaned on him, making the man almost squeal.
"Stay calm." he murmured, barely audible.
Jonas had always had a slight interest in UFOs and the like, but never really believing they actually existed. Not because he wondered if there was life in space, which he knew there had to be, but because he wanted some of their far superior technology. He had always wanted to get stronger, but had reached his human limits years ago. He was only getting slower with age, which sickened him.
The man he held stomped on his foot, making Jonas let him go and stumble backward in both pain and surprise. His eyes blackened and his face turned almost purple with rage, the other man realized just too late he should have done as he were told.
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Jonas walked alongside the streets, listening on some peoples conversations. Most were about the UFO, the explosion. A few people called it doomsday, the end, and so on. Some called it a blessing, while others talked about the government trying to cover it up and if technology might be scattered around on earth. About the pods. Though the government had tried to keep it secret, word got out. He had been fired from his job, after having beaten up the man with almost fatal consequenses. He hated working as a doorman, but it was the only job he got. He walked into a new pub and approached the counter with a big smile. "I'd like to talk to the manager, if he's here at the moment."
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AlkarRahn
Promising
Legendary Hero
Divine Arcanist
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posted December 21, 2010 04:41 AM |
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Another day full of noise. Not all that bad. Though, a little more-so than most. Right now, however, it was all being tuned out, so it made little difference. It was break time, Gabriel had his attention fixed on a note pad he was using to draw up an idea for a costume he got a picture of in his mind.
Drawing and drawing he went on, when he noticed something. There was an odd hush in his immediate area. Only a few speakers. He looked up to see its source, spotting a television in the corner. The news was on, showing a strange sight. The spacecraft over London.
He watched as they talked about the event, and then the explosion. The pods shooting out seemed to worry people, and then a dead feed. The news was on still, but anything being fed to them quit.
Gabriel just sat there, staring. He wasn't paying attention to anything, not even the television anymore. Then he came to. The noise was back. People were all talking about it. Gabriel gathered his items, and went to his next class.
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Demonge
Known Hero
more than meets the eyes
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posted December 21, 2010 03:11 PM |
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Edited by Demonge at 10:54, 27 Dec 2010.
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Thursday, 20 January 2011. Rogé is sitting in an armchair, in the cosy Grand Salon of the hotel he's staying at. He stays there, watching news on the TV, for hours.
3 days back from now, Rogé shipped in his private jet, at Heathrow. He sat on his chair, thinking, quite desperate, of his once again early elimination from what was that time a charity tournament, at quarter-finals step. Alone in the room, he couldn't help but feeling a sadness seizing him. That was the moment his pilot informed him the departure was delayed by control tower.
That was enough, Rogé stood up and began reaching the exit, ready to make some noise, as much to gain flight permission as to get it off. After only some steps, as he was up to open the door, a big noise of shattered metal occurred. The surprise and the plane shake almost made him fall, and as he looked back, he hardly believed what he saw: the ceiling was simply showing a hole, just as if the plane had been pierced by a huge bullet. The hole was around 20cm wide. He also noticed smoke coming from the place he was sitting on. After getting closer, he saw the chair completely pierced through, and not only the chair, but the whole plane fuselage. He could see cables and all that sort of things he doesn't know anything about.
While staring at the hole, starting to feel really scared, he heard someone shout, taking him away from his thoughts:
"Sir! Sir! Are you all right?" asked the pilot by the door he had just opened.
Rogé did not answer but walked out of the plane, back on the ground, to see the scene for the outside of it. What he saw looked just like a Hollywood movie: the sky was full of shooting stars, falling apart. Did the aliens finally attack, he thought? The pilot at his left started going crazy and couldn't do anything else than shouting and crying "Oh My God! Oh My God!"
Rogé stayed a bit more calm and remembered why he came out of the plane for. Turning his back to that apocalyptic vision, he walked at the rear of the jet to find what he was looking for: on the ground, in a 'nest' it dug for itself at landing, the thing that almost took his life was still smoking. That must have been one of those stars falling from the sky, yet it did not look like anything now, melt by his trip through atmosphere. It was a 10 by 15 cm gross round object, that must have been of some kind of metal, but Rogé could not guess anything else from it by sight.
Finally, the airport crew reached them. A fireman went to Rogé and asked him about his health, while others were taking care of the pilot. Soon the fireman noticed the thing and stayed mute for a while. Rogé took advantage of it and demanded the guy to bring enough water to cool that alien thing. After a while, Rogé was able to take that bit by hand, after having borrowed gloves to the fireman. He then went for leaving the place, shouting at the man who claimed back the metal thing as he knew how to, asking him to do his job and focus on the plane.
Back in the hotel living room, Rogé still looks at the news. For three days he has remained in that hotel, all flights having been cancelled sine die. During that time, news and people only spoke of the alien things. The proximity of death has made him very pensive, not to say he did not have anything else to do.
While the newscaster is stating the fall has stopped, Rogé put his hand in his trousers' pocket and gets the thing out of it. Looking at it, he starts, one more time, to wonder what all that was caused by...
======================================================================
Rogé hangs his cellphone off. Today's gonna be a bad day.
Richard has just told him Nike, one of his long-time sponsor, is thinking of cancelling its contract, due to the poor perfs of the player. They are looking towards Hermes Conrad, a young and talented German player, recent winner of Wimbledon. Were he objective, Rogé would have tell Hermes is a great player, but he isn't, and just think he's a spoiled brat, not matching with him at his age.
That is the point: his age. Rogé curses once again Time and gets up. While thinking at Richard's demand of him to go back to training asap so as to be ready for next tournament, Rogé goes to the room's bar and asks for a glass of red wine. Château Margaux, at least everything will not be bad in the day.
Rogé stays there, at the bar, to enjoy his glass. There, he cannot keep himself from hearing two gentlemen talking at his right. As Rogé has expected, they are talking about the Event, the wreckage shower. He hears one of them telling people begin to think of an advanced alien civilization that reached Earth. He then states about the missing pods, arguing lots of unknown sciences and powers remain in them, that is why every government are looking for them. Typical plot theory.
"What do you think, Mr Cavaillès?"
Rogé got used to that. People all around the world have so much heard about him and see him on TV that they all think of him as a long time friend, without reason.
"Do you believe in some super-power gifts from space?"
Rogé smiles a little, drink a slip of wine and stares at the man.
"Not really, I must say. In any case, I always keep away from political business."
But that was a lie.
Of course the idea has struck his brain. Since the day before and the confirmation of missing escape pods, a thought turns round in his mind. What if there is something that could help him recover his lost strength, here, outside, waiting for him? After all, he already has one piece of that "spacecraft", why wouldn't him find another?
That is complete nonsense, he knows it. Walking back to his armchair to watch more news, he puts his hand in his pocket and touches the metal.
That is nonsense, but the Hell of Conrad! the Hell of Nike! the Hell of Wimbledon! Despair is there, not far away from now, waiting for his next hiding. Yet Rogé is not going to give up that easily.
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Wait a second! I'm not big-boned, I'm just fat!
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Kipshasz
Undefeatable Hero
Elvin's Darkside
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posted December 21, 2010 04:12 PM |
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After looking through some papers at the office, James went to oversee one of the objects that the brigade is working on.
- Hey folks, how's it goin'?- he asked one of his men when he entered the apartment that they been repairing.
- Fine boss- Replied Jacob, the 'head' of the two man team here.- We finished up the plumbing and the bathroom's tiling is all done. We ran out of rotband however, we could use three more bags of it.
- Ok, three bags of rotband. Should I also get some frungenfüler?
- no, we still have two bags of it. But we ran out of the glass fiber tape for the joints.
- two rolls will be enough?- Asked James while writing down the shopping list.
- Yeah, that'll be enough.
James walked around the apartment, inspecting the work done so far.
- What's the plan for today?
- I'll be starting to install the switches and the sockets, and we'll hide the remaining radiator pipes and fill the remaining joints. Hopefully tommorow we'll start tiling the kitchen's floor and walls.
- Hopefully. Ok, I'll check up on others and go to the store to pick up your supplies. Be with ya in an hour or two.
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"Kip is the Gavin McInnes of HC" - Salamandre
"Ashan to the Trashcan", "I got PTSD from H7. " - LizardWarrior
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War-overlord
Responsible
Undefeatable Hero
Presidente of Isla del Tropico
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posted December 21, 2010 07:18 PM |
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20 jan. 11.46
Having finished his pint, Stef walked out of the pub. Cigar in the corner of his mouth, he greeted the landlady on his way out.
Barely walking a few paces, Stef was flanked by two of the hired goons he had under him. He sighed.
"I realy have to find something better for you lugs to do."
Stef hated being followed around and preferred to work on his own. However he also knew these guys were here to keep an eye on him, to make sure he remembered where his loyalties were supposed to lie.
Stef growled, with the deal canceled he had several crates of illegal weapons to fence within the next couple of days. A few he could confiscate for himself and his underlings, but most had to be sold quick and subtle-like.
"If you insist on following me, at least keep some distance you prat. You're making us look suspect." he hissed to the goon walking beside him. "And I don't want people thinkin' we're faeries either."
Another thing Stef hated was that people assumed he was more effeminate than he actually was, due to his tailored suits.
Stef needed to think and walking usually helped. However he needed to avoid the parks when he was followed around. The open space made it more obvious that he was either followed or guarded. Neither things he wanted to be obvious. Luckily, these Brits understood that being followed in a pub was a sure way of atracting attention. Especially in the middle of the afternoon.
After walking for a few streets, he got an idea. He fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number.
"Stef here. You still got that friend that works with the Daily Mail? Good, can you leak something to her? Very good. Think you can manage to leak this to The Sun as well? You're amazing. Good, here is the scoop. Have them print that the UFO that exploded the other day, several of the escapepods from that thing have been found to be abandoned. Yes, heavily implying that the aliens escaped the authorities. Well what do you think I'm planning with that? Yes, a little panic will do the town some good. Now you go and leak that to the press. No, ofcourse you did not get this story from me."
Stef hung up the phone. Nobody bought illegal guns like panicy dumb people. After a while, some accidents would happen, the laws get enforced harder, which would drive up the price of illegal guns even more.
"Sometimes, I amaze myself. Now to think of something to do about Harry. He should know that nobody refuses Vinnie."
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Vote El Presidente! Or Else!
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gnomes2169
Honorable
Undefeatable Hero
Duke of the Glade
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posted December 22, 2010 03:49 AM |
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They looked at the blast zone of a crater somewhere thirty to forty miles from the mountain ridge, Jarod turned back to his Fiance. They looked at each other for a few moments. finally, she turned her gaze away from his silver eyes, muttering "You should go."
"Damn it, Alex." Jarod hissed, "This is supposed to be my day off. After all of that UFO-"
"Shhhh. Remember, mister important intelligence officer, talking about your work gets you fired, and then what will happen to the baby?" Jarod stopped fuming and his eyes glazed over in shock.
"Baby?" He asked, She just gave him a sly smile and wink. As he fully realized what she meant, his face lit up with joy. "Oh my God! We're having a baby!" He began to laugh, picking Alex up and spinning around three or four times before he finally stopped. "This is great." He muttered in her ear, holding her close and tightly in his embrace. "Oh, Alex, I'm going to be a father!" He looked into her eyes, "God, you're beautiful." and he brought her close again.
Suddenly, Alex tensed. Jarod didn't even have to turn around to know what she was looking at. "Hello, Aran."
Aran, a German special agent who had survived the blast zone with Jarod, stood at the edge of the ravine. To be honest, Jarod thought to himself, if I hadn't had to rely on him to survive, I probably would be just as afraid as Alex was right now. There was something distinctly... Disturbing about that man, as if life was just a tool for him, and the living were his pawns. In that man's eyes, there was no remorse, no hope, no fear, NOTHING. The man was one of the dead who refused to actually die.
"Hello, Jarod." Aran replied. He gave Alex a sneer of contempt, "ven you are done viz your distraction her, ve have a job to do." His German accent gave a harsh hiss to his words.
Jarod whipped around, "Good to see you too, Aran. I see nothing ever changes you. Please keep your tongue still if you ever think to insult the mother of my child ever again." His words were sarcastic as he snapped them out.
"Sorry, Mr. Hot Shot. No offenze vas meant." The powerful German held up his his hands in apology. "But ve must hurry, ve don't now vas ist out zere now, or how much of a start zey have on us." The hands dropped, "So grab deine gear und move, lover boy."
"Jarod?" Alex's look of confusion almost broke Jarod's heart. "What is this, this man talking about?"
"I don't have days off, my love. You know that." Sorrow dug at his heart when he looked into her beautiful eyes, maybe for the last time, as he knew. He shuddered at he memories as they came back to him in a flood. Nightmares that he thought were buried in the past. That should be in the past, but that had been forced to the light once again. In some ways, Jarod wished that he had died in that crater with his friends, then he wouldn't have to do this thing because of the fact that he had merely survived. He was descending into his nightmare again, but he know what he was doing this time.
"Jarod-"
"Alex." He cut he off, his kind voice taking on a new, hard edge. "We both know that I have a job and obligation to the country. I cannot refuse." A light ray of light broke through his inner darkness, and he smiled faintly. "I have a baby to think of, don't I?"
Alex looked as if she was on the brink of tears. "Be safe, my love."
Jarod embraced her tightly, "I will not let anything happen to me or you. I will not let my child grow up without a father. I promise you. I will fight to the gates of hell if I must, but I will come back to you no matter what."
When he pulled away he saw that Alex was silently crying. He rubbed off her tears and gave Alex a weak smile. She looked at the ground. Jarod wished there was something that he could do for her, but that was beyond his considerable abilities. He nodded to Aran, looked back to Alex once, and then walked to the trunk of his car. He opened it up, pulling out a variety of weapons. One was his personally modified bolt action multi-cambered .12 cal. rifle. It has a scope that sees infrared heat signatures. He slung this over his right shoulder. He placed two light assault pistols in his pockets, two extra rounds for each in both pockets, and silencers for both in his main pockets. He placed his wallet and keys in the trunk. He slipped a knife into his boot, and two kuni up his sleeves. He picked up a pre-packed backpack out of his trunk as well. It had provisions for three weeks, and enough extra ammunition to reload his weapons three times each.
He looked up at Aran, who was armed as well as a small strike force would be, bristling with weapons. How the tall German still moved silently, no one knew, but Jarod had come to accept the fact.
"Zo, you are ready, ja?" Aran called out.
Jarod looked out at the blast crater, "As ready as I'll ever be."
Aran gave a smile of sheer exhilaration.
"Zen let us go back to ze hell ve vere born in. Lazt vone dere buys roundz."
Jarod shook his head, "Let's find ourselves that escape pod, and go home."
The German's smile disappeared. "Zpoilzport."
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Yeah in the 18th century, two inventions suggested a method of measurement. One won and the other stayed in America.
-Ghost destroying Fred
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wog_edn
Promising
The Nothingness
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posted December 22, 2010 05:54 PM |
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Jonas sat in a cafè drinking a coffee. Black and bitter, just like his mood. He hadn't gotten the job, and reputation had spread among the pub-owners that he had too much of a temperament. That was not good news for someone like him, as getting a job now would be even harder. Of course he had the opportunity to turn into a criminal, he knew lots and lots of people in the underworld and his skills would be greatly appreciated. But he had a code of honor, which most others didn't, and it kept him from doing so.
He had a sip from his coffee and scowled at a random man passing by, making the man hurry past him. He didn't really have very much choice though, as money were hard to come by when doing honest work. "Whatever." he muttered, then rose and put on his black leather jacket. Earlier that day he had heard a rumor from one of his friends in the underworld that there were several crates of illegal weapons that would be avaliable for sale. Would be great for him, if he had any money.
He kept on walking, not really having any location in mind, thinking about his glory days in the army. His phone ringing snapped him out of his daydreaming, and he picked it up and answered it.
"Yes?" he said.
"Hey Jonas! Harry here." Harry said on the other side.
"What's up?" Jonas asked, though he already knew the reason the other one called.
"Not much, really. Just sitting here going over the fights for tonight, and I know I've asked like a hundred times before but I want you to fight for me over here!" Harry said, sounding over-enthuiastic.
"And I've answered you like a hundred times I don't fight for money." Jonas answered.
"Come on! I'll give you great odds, and.."
Jonas cut him off. "I'll do it, but I want twice the money. I have something in mind I need a larger payout for."
"No way man, I'll give you..."
"Double or nothing." Jonas said. "And I'll put on a show for you. Alright?"
"You better put on a show, man!" Harry said. "Fights starts at nine, better show up in time or I'll skin you alive!"
"I'd like to see you try." Jonas laughed, and hung up.
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gnomes2169
Honorable
Undefeatable Hero
Duke of the Glade
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posted December 23, 2010 12:51 AM |
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Everything suddenly went silent. "Oh God." Jarod gasped, looking at the shattered remaints of the alien that had landed on, and killed, his friend. "Oh my dear God."
Then it moved.
He was to shocked to back away. To shocked to do anything as it slowly reached over to him, one of what passed for fingers on its shattered body moved over his chest. He heard a small click, and then felt a burning sensation over his heart.
A small red, pulsating beam was attached to his body. Another click, and the beam disappeared.
"Please." The alien wheezed, barely alive, it's mouth moving unnaturally, Jarod could hear small clicks and whistles below the alien's words, "please... forgive-"
The alien's words were cut off as its head turned into a fine mist under Aran's bullets.
Jarod finally began to scream.
Jarod awoke with a start, crying out in shock and fear from his nightmare. He was covered in a fine sweat that felt cool in the night air.
"Avake at lazt, zleeping beauty? Ist das vat you vant sie vorld to know?" Aran's sarcasm brought Jarod back to reality. Jarod shook his head and stood up, banishing his memories back to the netherworld that they came from. Back to the void. "Perhaps," Aran continued, "You might succeed if you cry out ein bissen louter."
"Improve your English, Aran. You are starting to get more irritating that usual." Jarod retorted.
"Bah. Deine language ist fur the veak." The German spit to the side. "Meine language ist strong und the noble."
Jarod smiled, messing with this man was far to easy. "So then, why, oh please tell me why, you are still speaking ind English?"
Aran gave him a look of open contempt, "Just lead the way, forezt boy."
Jarod picked up his supplies. Three days of nothing happening but stopping to eat a light snack twice a day hadn't lessened his weight much. But that was fine. Jarod moved with more precision and grace than most wild animals, even with the bloody thing on. Besides, he thought, I'd much rather carry it and not need it, than need it and not carry it.
The oddly matched pair moved swiftly through the night, both at full attention, wary of any noise or sign of movement that might disturb the night air.
At dawn, just as the day began to break over the light clouds, they arrived at the pod. both immediately stopped. The blast zone was about a kilometer to any side in diameter, all trees and vegetation in this area was laid flat or at odd angles. Nothing moved, except one, rather large, shape by the pod.
Jarod staired at it for longer than Aran. It's one of them! It survived! After his initial shock, he moved forward to make sure Aran didn't do anything stupid.
They crept side by side through the devastated foliage, eventually getting close enough to take the Alien, who was working very hard on something in its ship, down with an easy precission shot. Aran un-slung his rifle, and began to line it up on the target's head.
Jarod, on the other hand. Was too stunned to move.
The monster was speaking English!
He leaned in closer to hear what it was saying, when he heard Aran loading his rifle. "Aran, wait." He whispered.
The German looked at Jarod like he had just sprouted horns, wings, a pointy stick and had flown away to a far off land called Narnia, and continued loading his gun. "Right. Vy?"
"Well... It's saying something." Jarod confessed.
"I heard the clicks und vistles too. Unless you can make sense of zose insect tings, like you seem to alvays do, I'm taking dis thing down." He finished with preparing his weapon. "Bezides. I really, really couldn't care lezz about vas dis ting has to zay."
Now Jarod started to get confused. "But it's speaking English."
"Right, and Narnia is in my downstairs wardrobe." Aran lined up the shot.
Jarod didn't think about what he was doing next, he just reached out and pushed Aran's gun down.
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Cther Vithsil hit the pod's reactor again. (Translated from its language) "Worthless piece of trash. Work damn you! I swear, the next time a Messiah comes crawling out of the (untranslatable phrase), I'm going to sit down, turn the holo on, and eat some (Untranslatable word). I swear, I don't care about the dieing sun anymore if the ship I was on explodes under my-"
A loud roar that echoed out across the clearing, cutting Cther off.
It heard a loud thud, and then the sounds of a brief fight.
Silence filled the clearing.
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Yeah in the 18th century, two inventions suggested a method of measurement. One won and the other stayed in America.
-Ghost destroying Fred
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War-overlord
Responsible
Undefeatable Hero
Presidente of Isla del Tropico
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posted December 23, 2010 11:36 AM |
bonus applied by Mytical on 10 Jan 2011. |
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20 jan. 11:58
Stef stopped in front of a sandwichshop, it was nearing noon and he was getting peckish. He signaled one of his goons.
"Get the car to be here by the time I've finished my sandwich, I want to go visit Harry. Get two others to go along, and have them bring some cricket bats in case he gets feisty."
Stef walked into the shop.
When he came out, wiping the crumbs from his face with a paper napkin, his armoured sedan was waiting on the other side of the street. Stef and his two guards joined the two already inside the car.
"Brought tape?" Stef asked. The man in the passengerseat held up a large roll of duct tape.
"Very good. Now listen lads, Harry has lost us a lot of money. Which does not make Vinnie happy. Now we're giving Harry one more chance to make us this money. But he needs to know that nobody, Nobody screws Vinnie out of a deal. Got that?"
All the goons nodded.
When they came to Harry's gym, the goons got the cricket bats out of the trunk. The party barged in. When Harry saw who entered, Stef just pointed at the office. Harry meekly followed them in there. Just dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants, he looked verry much different from Stef.
Inside the office, two goons grabbed Harry by the shoulders. A third put a piece of tape over his mouth and gave him a punch in the gut afterwards. Harry would have doubled if he wasn't held up by the goons, his groans were being muffled by the tape.
"Now, now, Harry. I warned you that Vinnie does not like being screwed out of a deal."
Harry recieved another punch.
"Well, you're quite lucky, do you realize that? I've busted my gut and I've convinced Vinnie to give you another chance. That fight tonight, I am going to make the money back that I've lost Vinnie from the canceled deal. You got that?"
Harry looked up to Stef. Stef stared icicles, his eyes had always unnerved people.
"You are going to fix the fight and give me some good odds. Now I'm down 50000 quid, and I've got a 100 to play with. You are going to make sure that that 100 turns into 50000 tonight."
Stef picked up Harry's chin.
"I am going to call you at 18:00 tonight and I want to hear the details. Now if I do not make my money tonight. Well...let's say that accidents are bound to happen then."
Harry recieved another gut-punch, the goons released him and he curled up on the floor.
"18:00, Harry. Remember." Stef said as he and the goons walked out of the office.
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Vote El Presidente! Or Else!
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wog_edn
Promising
The Nothingness
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posted December 23, 2010 12:07 PM |
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Harry groaned as he managed to get his cellphone from the desk, and dialed Jonas' number.
"What? I told you I'd show up in time." Jonas answered, slightly angry.
"I just needed to tell you that I am putting you up against the best and most popular fighter, which makes the odds 1:500. Should be a great way for you to earn some cash, right?" Jonas said, struggling to keep a casual voice.
"Sure, I haven't fought in a year. Why not just put me up against the best at once then!" Jonas growled.
"You wanted good odds, I can't give you any better than this. If you put in only hundred bucks you'll have earned a damn good bunch of cash!" Jonas said, sounding kinda desperate.
Jonas were silent for a moment. "What's up?" he asked, his voice suspicious.
"I really need you to do this for me, alright?"
"You put in a thousand for me, and then I get the payout if I win."
"Deal."
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Kipshasz
Undefeatable Hero
Elvin's Darkside
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posted December 23, 2010 07:17 PM |
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James watched as the workers of the hardware store loaded the materials into his van. Several boards of gypsum cardboard, about twenty square meters of ceramic floor tiles, PVC pipes, a few buckets of emulsic paint and several bags of rotband and tile glue. With the cargo loaded, he drove to a nearby fast food stand and ordered a kebab. The folks nearby discussed the UFO event. From what James overheard, it seemed that the parliament ordered the SAS to locate and retrieve as many of the pods as possible. James sighed and finished his ice tea. This can be a perfect excuse to relieve James of his retirement. Except for a 9mm pistol issued for self defence and a harpoon gun, he haven't held a gun in a decade. Though a bit rusty, he doesn't have any problems when dealing with low life thugs and muggers.
James had finished his lunch and continued to deliver the materials to his brigade.
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"Kip is the Gavin McInnes of HC" - Salamandre
"Ashan to the Trashcan", "I got PTSD from H7. " - LizardWarrior
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gnomes2169
Honorable
Undefeatable Hero
Duke of the Glade
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posted December 23, 2010 10:51 PM |
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Another dream, another nightmare.
Jarod is standing alone on the top of a hill. Once, maybe this hill held life. Maybe it was a farm or a business. Now, like everything else, it lay in ruins. Jarod turned his head up to the sky again, he looked at the place debris was till falling from, though none of it was landing near him.
Of course it wouldn't kill him. After all, this was just a dream. Right?
He looked down again at the carnage and destruction of the world around him. "Why did this happen?" He asks, the stay thought coming out of the deepest recesses of his mind.
And then he saw them. His squad around him. He became aware of their voices, asking him "Why, why did you let us die?" The chant became constant, as he looked at the faces of his friends he had let down. He began to scream.
Slowly, the faces and the voices merged into one, and Aran was the only one standing in front of him.
"Vy did you kill me?"
Jarod shot up from his fallen position on the ground. Instantly, he regretted it.
The wound in his shoulder from where Aran had stabbed him throbbed painfully, and had probably reopened, but that was the least of Jarod's worries.
The worst of his worries came from his left knee, where Aran had shot his bone with a second shot from the rifle.
Jarod lay back, and remembered how it had happened.
---------------------------------------------------
The bullet didn't hit the alien in the head, instead it smashed into the creature's abdomen, shattering it and spilling its blood on the ground.
Jarod had almost no time before Aran had whipped out one of his knives and rammed it into Jarod's right shoulder. Jarod fell back, crying out in pain, and Aran, seeing that the alien was in no position to fight him, had turned to Jarod again.
"Vell now." The German hissed out, "I guess that I'm juzt going to have to move my plans ahead of schedule." He had aimed the gun at Jarod's leg then, firing his second shot right above Jarod's kneecap. "Zo that you don't run, ja?" He had no answer, since Jarod was silently crying out in pain. The Greman heard the alien starting to get up behind them. He emptied the rest of his shots on it.
"Vas ist das matter, Hot shot? Cat got your tongue?" Aran laughed maniacally. "Does it hurt? Oh, how I'm going to enjoy your zlow... agonizing death. Und, do you know vas?" The German moved in closer. "Zis ist only the beginning. Ven the German military haz the last of the ringz, Ve shall rule the Vorld. I vill be a prince."
Jarod finally regained parts of his voice. "Y-you're mad."
"Only ein bissen." Aran admitted. "But, I'd razer be mad... zen dead. Goodbye-" He was cut off in mid sentence when a massive feline shape latched itself to his throat. Jarod only heard the sounds of ripping flesh and cloth, but he didn't need to hear any more.
"Sasha..." And then the memory fades.
---------------------------------------------------
He looks at the poor bandages he had made for his wounds, and grimaces again. The smell of blood lies heavy in the air, almost choking Jarod. Had he not been in far worse, he would probably thrown up then and there. Instead, he rolled over to his front, sending spikes of pain into his body. Using the closest fallen tree branch he can find, Jarod pushes himself off of the ground. Aran's tattered remains lay only three meters away from him.
Sasha, the mountain cat that Jarod has befriended, stretches and gives a cat-like yawn, laying her ears flat as she does so. She pads silently over to Jarod, stopping only half a meter away from him before she sits down and begins to purr.
Jarod looks back at the pod now. He sees the, very, dead alien laying in a pool of its own blood. He clicks his tongue lightly, and Sasha pads over to him. He remembers how he had met her.
He knows that the sleek black creature is not native to New Zealand. Her great grandparents parents and at least fifty other mountain cats had been brought here in the 1950's to protect the dwindling population. Later this was deemed inhumane, and so they stopped bringing the majestic creatures over.
Jarod is glad that they hadn't tried to recapture all of them, because then he would have lost his best friend, and would not have survived today. I was lucky enough for her to like me, I guess, he thinks as Jarod visualizes Aran's corpse.
With Sasha's help, Jarod picks himself off of the ground. Using his stick as and improvised crutch, he hobbles over to the pod. He still has a job to do here. When he sees the creature, he shudders in revulsion, remembering the things he had seen in the crater. He moved past it to the pod itself.
Almost everything in the pod was broken or in a poorly organized chaos. Almost immediately, Jarod felt the urge to order everything inside of it. He fought his years of organizational training down and looked inside the pod again. He saw that, though most things were broken or randomly scattered, there was one item placed almost reverently on the "dashboard" of the pod. It was a small loop shaped piece of mettle, and everything around it was pushed off to the sides so that there was a ring of open space, just for it.
"Well, well, well. Isn't that something?" His pain momentarily forgotten, Jarod mused, "Would this be the ring Aran was talking about?" All Jarod knew of this mission was that he was supposed to search the pod fro some alien tech. Aran had seemed far more informed.
Why didn't they tell me about this? He though to himself. Are the Germans that far ahead of everyone?
Or did they not want me to know?
This second thought made Jarod shudder, causing his wounds to ache. He shook the thought out of his head. No, his country would never betray him. He reaches out to grab the ring.
Jarod slipped and fell on his face. His had missed the ring and hit a different, discarded piece of tech instead.
Jarod's world went white.
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Where am I?
Jarod's consciousness floated in and out of his memories.
Who am I?
Slowly, his memories began to fade.
My name is Jarod. I'm an an officer in the New Zealand intelligence agency...
Still have no idea where the hell I am.
His memories completely faded.
New ones, ones from a world that is nothing like our own, flooded through his head.
Jared stood in the center of this barrage on his conscience, unable to do anything but watch.
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Yeah in the 18th century, two inventions suggested a method of measurement. One won and the other stayed in America.
-Ghost destroying Fred
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wog_edn
Promising
The Nothingness
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posted December 25, 2010 03:05 PM |
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Jonas had showed up unexpectedly at Harrys gym, just five minutes before Harry was to expect the call. Now it was almost 18.00 and Harry started acting more and more nervous. He had told Jonas what was up, got punched, then explained a little more and a little chase took place. Jonas agreed to help him out anyway, as long as Harry let him get a lifetime free membership in the gym.
"When is he gonna call?" Jonas asked.
"Pretty much now." Harry said, cracking his fingers.
Jonas nodded, still frowning from when he first heard the news. "What were you thinking cancelling on people like that? Even getting involved with people like that."
Harry shrugged. "I am involved with all kinds of people, it's good money being a middle-man."
"It's also gonna get you killed." Jonas said and checked his watch. "18.00."
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War-overlord
Responsible
Undefeatable Hero
Presidente of Isla del Tropico
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posted December 25, 2010 05:18 PM |
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20 jan. 17:55
Stef had spent most of the afternoon in the HQ. The headquarters was a non-descript officebuilding in Hammersmith. It was rented by a shady limited company that was part of the greater syndicate. All the goons were on the paylist of this company. Stef was the Chief Executive of the company and as such had to answer to the owners: the syndicate.
Stef did most of the administration himself, but if he kept on expanding he would need someone to help him with it soon. As such, he spent most of his time in the HQ keeping up-to-date and noting his proceeds.
Sitting behind his desk, Stef noticed that it was almost 18:00. He dialed the number of Harry's Gym and at the stroke of six he called.
"Harry, guess who. Indeed, details. The Norwegian, right. Bookies? Right, right, did he not get robbed? Hmm, I need to note that. See you tonight then. Of course I'm coming, I need to make sure my investment pays of. Yes, I'm bringing a few friends along as well. Uhuh, you know what's at stake. Oh and if your viking doesn't win, I know where to find you."
Stef hung up the phone. He called in three of the goons and sent them to the named bookies to make the bets. Then he ordered himself a pizza, he was getting peckish again.
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Vote El Presidente! Or Else!
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Mytical
Responsible
Undefeatable Hero
Chaos seeking Harmony
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posted December 26, 2010 06:15 AM |
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Several thousand years ago, in a sector of space that humans are not aware even exists. Two worlds followed near identical paths around a large orange sun. The only other thing in common they shared was life. Both had intelligent species on them. ((All names of species are translated to the equivalent in human))
The Isla were a hardy people, their planet mostly barren of water. Resembling red skinned lizards that walked upright, they were peaceful and shared what little they had with each other. Survival was hard, and the world was harsh.
The Vast's world was almost a mirror opposite. Very little land, but what land they had was lush and green. The Vast were sea dwellers that could walk on land, but preferred the water. The one thing they lacked was minerals and metals..things found in abundance on Isla. For awhile, once the two met..food and water were traded for minerals and metals and all was good. Vast resemble blue skinned 'goblins' with gills.
The people of the Vast were a lot more technologically advanced, as they had less to worry about survival wise, and had leisure time to create. Soon, they started questioning why they should trade with the Isla, and not just take what they wanted. They started gearing up to wipe the Isla out.
There was a group of Vast that disagreed with this, and they formed a secret society dedicated to protecting other species from the greed of their brothers. They called themselves the Deep.
Generations passed...
The Deep were too few to prevent the destruction of the Isla, managing to save only a few hundred from death. They hide the survivors, and do what they can to slow the war machine that the Vast has become. To this end they created 20 powerful objects, and stowed them on one of the scout ships that the Vast use to find other mineral rich planets that can support life.
Jan 21, 2011
Scientist have picked up 12 ships roughly double the size of the one that has exploded. At current speed the first will reach earth in one year, 3 months, and 5 days.
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Message received.
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wog_edn
Promising
The Nothingness
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posted December 26, 2010 12:37 PM |
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Jonas Nilsen warmed up. Running a bit, shadow boxing, stretching and very light weights for each muscle group. He did what he could to avoid any injury during the match. Hopefully he would be able to put on somewhat of a show out there and not just win it. He watched Harry approach and ignored him.
"Ready?" Harry asked.
"Not really." Jonas said. "But I'll give it my best."
"Good luck out there." Harry said, then grimaced. "Hopefully you won't need it. Match starts in ten minutes."
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War-overlord
Responsible
Undefeatable Hero
Presidente of Isla del Tropico
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posted December 26, 2010 03:07 PM |
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20 jan. 21:25
Stef and three of his goons were present in the arena long before the fight started. For the occasion, he had insisted that the goons wore something that at the least could be entiteled as casual-chic. Even though these fights weren't completely legal, they were events where one had to keep up appearances.
Stef, who hung around the entrance at the time, saw Harry enter. He gave Harry a predatory grin, which made the man break out in sweat.
Several minutes before the fight, Stef saw Harry come out one of the lockerrooms. He again broke out in a sweat when he saw Stef. And Stef knew that it was intimidating to Harry that he was followed around, which was exactly what he planned. Harry needed to know that had messed the hair of people who liked their doo.
Stef entered the lockerroom Harry came out of.
"Ah, warming up for the fight I see. Jonas was it? I'm sure Harry has informed you that there is a lot riding on this fight. And in that mindset I am here to whish you the best of luck. There may even be something extra in it for you, if your opponent goes down in the fourth. I'm sure you catch my drift." Stef said with a wink.
Before Jonas could answer, Stef had left the room again.
Stef would sit in the crowd. Not in the front, but still somewhere where he would be visible. Two goons sitting beside him, he had sent the third to go get them something to drink. If all went well, Stef would allow himself to luxury to go out on the town tonight.
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Vote El Presidente! Or Else!
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