Extermination

[Esperanto]

----0135 local time, April 5, 2031 - Paris, France----



If anyone were to be told that the eight figures huddled in the dark behind the house were Radicals, they might stop thinking of the Radical fighters as a poorly supplied rebel faction. Unfortunately, that was not the case. This team, equipped with body armor, silenced weapons, and night vision gear, was in no way an average Radical attack force.

The team, codenamed APACHE, was the best the Radicals had to offer, and as such it utilized the best technology available from the army's meager stockpiles. They were called on when normal soldiers just wouldn't do.

This night, APACHE was given the mission of eliminating Jean-Luc Coudriet, a Party-appointed general of the French army, who happened to be on leave. Not only was he militarily important, but he also was an official in the central Party government. The Radical operatives were advised to remove him alive, if possible, but also to be prepared to kill him if the need should arise.

The team leader gave the signal, and APACHE broke into three teams. Two groups of three went up either side of the back yard, and the remaining two stayed behind to provide cover.

The leader, now designated Red 1, was a muscular man about 5'10" tall. He led his group up to a side door, and waited for the ready signal from Blue team.
.
Shouldn't this place be more heavily defended? thought Blue 2, a thought likely shared by his team mates. Blue 2 was tall, about 6'3", and thin, about 165 pounds. He adjusted the grip on his MP5SD5. "Observation, anything?"

"Negative," a female voice replied. The woman was in a nearby apartment, and she observed the mission through a thermal scope. Her job was to alert APACHE if she saw any enemies that they couldn't.

"Blue team in position," said Blue 1.

"Advance," said Red 1.

The two teams broke down the doors at the same time. They cleared the rooms near the entrance hallways, then met near the central staircase. Red team proceeded up the stairs, while Blue team covered the ground floor.

Green 1's voice was heard on their headphones. "Contact!" Red 1 held up his fist by his head. Red team froze in place on the stairs. "One contact in the general's room. Doesn't appear to know you're there."

"Roger that, Green," Red 1 replied. He motioned for his team to continue up the stairs. The landing was clear. The team turned to the left and went down a hallway. Red 1 and Red 2 swept their weapons from side to side, and Red 3 walked backwards, making sure they weren't caught by surprise.

When they reached the end of the hallway, Red 1 kicked in the door. A man was sitting at a small desk. "On the ground, now!" Red 1 yelled. The man quickly complied. While the man was being handcuffed, Red 2 and 3 checked the rest of the upper floor. It was empty.

"It's not him!" Red one exclaimed. "It isn't Coudriet!"

"What?!" asked Blue 1.

"Coudriet isn't here."

"Get out of there. It's a trap," came the voice from mission command.

"Take the man?"

"Negative; too much of a risk."

"Roger that." Red team made another sweep of the second floor, then descended the stairs. Red and Blue teams went out the same exits they came in, and quickly met up with Green team.

All eight members moved swiftly through the back alleys to an unmarked van, which drove off. Meanwhile "Observation" put away her thermal scope, and exited the building. She had perfect timing; right as she stepped onto the sidewalk, the van pulled up. The back door opened, and Blue 2, also known as Apache 5, pulled her in. He put his hand on her shoulder, and she closed the door.

"Next time, Jake," she said.

[Traken]

Traken stared out the window at the scuffle unfolding at the gate to his France compound.

It had been a little over half a year since he had decided to ally himself with Solistus in an effort to destroy Prexis. A little over half a year since he had gained control of the Party in Norway. Traken flexed his left hand. A little over half a year since he had donned the Cradle of Souls. He pulled up his coat sleeve. The Cradle had begun to actually bond with him, kneading itself into the now grayed flesh on his left arm. The fingertips of the Cradle had begun to take on more claw-like forms, and more claw forms were extending from the top of the black gauntlet.

He was pulled from his reverie by the flash and rumble of an explosion out near the gate. The Radicals were attacking far more organized than normal. Traken put his left hand up against the window. To think that I could destroy them all with no trouble at all, he thought to himself. He let his hand slide down the window, his fingers leaving deep scratches in the glass. With a sigh, "When will they learn that I am not their enemy?" he asked no one. With a scowl, he turned, his coat swirling about him and muttered, "At least not for the moment," as he stormed out of the room.


(OOC: No this is not the place Esperanto's characters raided. This is my France compound.)

[crybaby1117]

The van was crowded, but she didn't mind. Although it was springtime, the nights were still cold and the body warmth from all the men was keeping her nice and toasty.

Blue 2, also known as Jake (I'm assuming it's Jacob of course) was sitting with his head in his hands. Sevieth reached over and touched his back, patting it a bit. She leaned over and looked at him. "Don't worry about it. We'll get him next time."

He turned and looked at her and smiled. "Yeah. Your right."

The van sped around turns, causing everyone to lean over onto each other. The tires squealed throughtout the night, breaking the silence for but a moment before it moved down the next street.

Sevieth noticed one of the men looking at her. He always did that. One of the newest members of the Apache team, he was inexpierienced and Sevieth smelled trouble. She noticed his eyes were moving down her body and she felt creeped out by it.

The van skidded to a stop at what was seemingly an abandoned warehouse. A large garage door opened and the van backed into it. When it stopped for the final time the door swung open and everyone piled out of the van.

"All right guys! Lets take a 30 minute breather and then we will all meet back up here." The leader, also known as Red 1 shouted to the group. Everyone split off to do their own thing.

Sevieth walked up to a small bedroom that was on the second floor of the refurbished building. She slept up here when she needed to, and she felt, right now, that she needed to. She entered the room and walked straight over to the bed and fell upon it. Her eyes were just about closed when she heard a knock at her door.

She stood from the bed and opened the door. The new guy was standing there, smiling at her.

"Can I help you?" She asked, a bit perturbed that he would disturb her.

He stood there smiling at her. "No. Not really. Just came up to check up on you." His smile was errie and gross and Sevieth felt dirty just standing there.

"What's your name?" Sevieth asked, looking at him questionably.

"Alex." Was his reply. He never let his smile fade.

Sevieth smiled. "Well, ALEX, I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself. I'm sure that there are other things you could do with your time than disturb me." She reached over to close the door but his hand went up and stopped it. He pushed the door open and walked in, pushing her backwards until she hit the wall on the opposite side of the room.

"Why do you do that?" he asked, his smile starting to fade.

"Why do I do what?" Sevieth asked, standing her ground. She could feel what he was trying to do. She wouldn't allow it.

"Why do you tease me with your crassness?" He asked, looking down at her chest.

Sevieth had, had enough. She laughed and then drew her dagger across his neck. "Alex, do you know what I can do to you right now?" She asked smiling.

Alex nodded and backed up.

"Let this be a lesson to you. Go tell all your friends as well. Don't fuck with me. I am, and always will be Jacobs. Never will any of you touch me. Now get the fuck out of my room before I spill half your bodily fluids on my floor."

Alex quickly turned and left her room, almost leaving skid marks behind him.

(ooc: heh. Sorry. It's early. Didn't know what else to write. Any problems, lemme know so I can edit it. :p )

[BlackHawk]

(OOC: The perfect storyline for my guy. Hi-tech S.W.A.T like people (Go go shotgun!). Lovely opening their Esp.)

Green 1, or Neal as is his real name, sat on his bed going over his usual routine once they got back to their 'hideout.' He wiped his shotgun to a shine with the dirty cloth he had retrieved from the small drawer unit beside his bed. Turning the shotgun over, he rubbed furiously at a spot that had some dirt on it until he could see his grizzled face in it.

"I need a shave" he mermured as he examined his beard, well the starts of a beard at least. But it didn't bother Neal too much, he was used to this, besides they were on the run too much to stop for a simple shave. Tonight though he thought they would have him. Jean-Luc.

Maybe he knew we were coming? thought Neal, maybe we just got the wrong place?. Thoughts like these were flying through his mind, the next coming too soon, not giving him enough time to address the one before it.

"How long are you going to look at yourself in that? You're not that pretty."

Neal was snapped back to the present by the comment. "Wa? Oh, haha, I guess I do need a shave" said Neal grinning as he turned to face one of the team members Green 3, someone Neal had taken a liking to.

[Graeme]

(OOC: Hiya! If you haven't already, read my character description, as it has the info backing how I will get into this scene : http://www.warboards.org/showpost.php?p=5080&postcount=14 . Thanks!)

Christian approached gates of an astoundingly gigantic house. He stepped up to the gates, and clicked a little button. A bzzzt sound emerged from the gate, and the gate doors swung wide open. Chris tapped the gate door with his cane, as he walked past them, and continued his trek up the path. An awkward looking man followed behind, carrying a large amount of luggage.

Chris looked back at the man, "Hey Stu, what do you think? Pretty nice, eh . .. ehhhhh?"

The man put some of the luggage on the cobble path, "Aye, 'spose t'is. But . . . Chris, y'ur lookin' at the gard'ner's shed."

Chris spun around, looked at the shed, then looked at the house, "Oh . . . hey, not bad at all then!"

The house, as stated earlier, was giant! It was a thing of beauty. Large white columns stretched from the ground to the top floor of the three story house. A sliding door just above the columns lead to an expansive balcony that hung out from the house a good 4 metres. Flowers and shrubbs speckled the lawn outside, shedding their abstract shadows onto the lawn as the sun rose from behind the house's impressive stature.

It had been given to him by the Party government. They said something along the lines of, "You'll be . . . *cough* safe *outburst of laughter* there." Christian assumed they wouldn't lie to him, and humbly accepted the gift. Apparently it had been the house of a prestigious Party general, who recently moved out of the area due to security reasons.

"So, Stu, do you remember what to call me this time?", quizzed Christian, "I don't want you to give our identities away again . . . "

Stu seemed somewhat taken back by this comment, "But, I di'n't . . . I mean, it was YOU that fergot y'ur identi"

Chris interrupted him, "I won't have it! You have to accept your mistakes Stu! You can't keep doing this to yourself! Now . . . who am I?"

Stu hung his head slightly and mumbled, "Jan-Luck Codret"

Chris laughed, "No, no, that won't do! You have to say it with an accent. Say it with me, Jean-Luc Coudriet. One word at a time now: Jean."

"Jean"

"Luc"

"Luc"

"Coudriet"

Stu crumpled his face and attempted to speak, "Coudrite . . . cudray . . . COUDreet . . . I du'n't know Chris . . . How bou' I jus' say John."

Christian put his hand onto his forward, smirking slightly, "Arr, I suppose it will have to do for now . . . but, my image will be severely hurt because of this. I hope you know that!

Stu chuckled, "Yeah, yeah, I know." Stu grabbed the luggage again, and followed Christian up to the front of the mansion. As they approached the mansion, both Stu and Chris noticed that the door had been smashed down. It appeared to be a nice, solid wood door made out of a beautiful ash.

Chris fretted, "Hmmm, that's regrettable . . . ", and he continued into the house shouting, "Helllloooo!? Anyone home?"

A man immediately began sprinting down the stairs in a frenzy. He seemed really upset about something . . . Perhaps he's upset about the door?, thought Christian, Nah, no grown man cries about a broken door. The man hopped down the black and white, marble tiled stairs. As he reached the bottom, he just barely caught himself on the rail, closely avoiding what would have been a painful fall.

(In fact, it is rumoured that IF the mysterious man currently at the bottom of the stairs HAD in fact fallen, he would have likely fallen on his head. This would have led to a concussion, that would have put him in the hospital for a solid two weeks. Even after being released, he would have been afflicted with minor memory loss, and would not have been able to give Chris his orders. This would, curiously enough, would have led to the death of one platypus, and the loss of Stu's favourite socks [they were under his bed, in case you're wondering]. However, since he did catch himself before falling, we don't even have to worry about any of that.)

"Thank Prexis you're here!", exclaimed the now, out of breath, man, "Welcome Chri . . . or should I say monsieur Jean-Luc Coudriet? I am sorry to say that we had a few uninvited guests in your absence. But I'm sure everything will be fine now that you're here."

Chris looked kind of disappointed, "Ohh . . . so . . . you mean they're gone?". He looked towards the smashed door, "They look like they would have been a lot of fun. Some real party-animals. A wee bit of a change from my pal Stu here. He's all work."

Stu piped up, "Oy! I resent that!"

Chris brushed this off, and put his attention toward the man that just arrived at the bottom of the stairwell, "Anyway . . . who are you?"

The man stood up straight, and put his hands behind his back and spoke, "I'm André. I tend to the house in Jean's absence. If you would follow me, I'll lead you to your room, where we'll go over the details of your little escapade."

André began walking up the stairs again, but turned around abruptly, and pointed at Stu, "Oh, you can sleep in the gardener's shed. Okay, let's go Jean."

Christian followed André up the stairs, and smiled while listening to Stuart's cries, "Chris! I'm NOT sleepin' in a wee shed! Aye, 'tis not fit! Look'er all the rooms in this house!"

Chris laughed from the top of the stairs and teased, "I couldn't have my 'help' in the same house as me. It wouldn't fit the image! You heard André! Oh, and can you fix that door? Thanks a lot!"

Stuart grumbled some vulgarities as he marched past the broken down door, out toward the shed.

-Neg, changing storyline

[Esperanto]

(OOC: Well, I wanted my first post to be a little dramatic. :P

I think I need a few things cleared up. BlackHawk, I don't have any problem with you being a member of APACHE, but you have to follow the same rules they do. That includes using whatever weapons suit the job. In the mission I detailed, Green 1 was medium-range support, so he would have been using an assault rifle like a G36 or M4. Military type shotguns would be used when you're breaking into a facility and noise isn't an issue. Any weapon made of stainless steel would be a definited no-no. In addition, even if you had the right type of weapon for the mission, you probably wouldn't be allowed to use it; you'd use weapons from the armory.

Some notes about APACHE: The color team numbers are not permanent: they were set for that individual mission. For example, my character, Apache 5, was known in that mission as Blue 2, but in another mission he might be Red 3, or Green 1.

I'm going to say that there are a total of 15 members of APACHE, though no more than eight would go on most missions. BH, you can be... Apache 6, I'm gonna say. :cool: )

Alex Moore left Sevieth's room and turned down the hallway to the left - and ran right into Jacob Markovich. Surprised, Moore, also known as Apache 15, took a few steps backwards.

"Hi," Markovich said, with a fake smile.

Moore's eyes widened, and after a few moments of contemplation, he stepped around Jacob and went on his way.

Markovich continued on into Sevieth's room. He smiled again, but this time it was genuine. "I knew you could take care of yourself," he said, before bending down to kiss Sevieth.

His smile faded. "You know, you could get him kicked off of APACHE for that."

"I know," Sevieth said, "but I heard he was a good soldier. I don't want the team to suffer."

"And I don't want you to suffer," Jacob replied. "If he messes with you again he's gone, ok?"

"Ok," was the answer.

Markovich looked at his watch. "We better be getting down to debriefing."


(OOC: Now I'm the sorry one; this short post is all I have. :P)

[GrassDragon]

"How long are you going to look at yourself in that? You're not that pretty," Gemini joked with a smile. Neal turned his head quickly, facing Gemini.

"Wa? Oh, haha, I guess I do need a shave," Neal said, smiling back. Gemini, Apache 9, had been on a few missions teamed with Neal and he was beginning to take a liking to him. Gemini moved off to put his weapons away. Clean weapons are great thought Gemini, but Neal takes it too far. He laughed to himself and put his weapons in their places. Only thing left to do before debriefing was to get something to eat. Gemini was always hungry after a mission like this. He went to his stash and grabbed a few granola bars and some packaged food and brought it back to the main room. He ate is food in (more or less) quiet and waited for everyone to get back for debriefing.

(OOC: sorry if this is short, this is my first time for something like this and i wasnt to sure how to introduce my character)

[Esperanto]

(OOC: If you're new to RPing, I might suggest not being a member of an elite SpecOps team. But if you think you're up to it, go ahead. Oh, and by the way, the name Apache 6 is taken. You can be Apache 9.

FYI for all people. Though Apache 1 will be an NPC for the most part, if he ever makes major decisions, it'll probably be me making them. Why? Because it's my thread.

Radlin: I would appreciate it if you asked before using characters of mine, even if I haven't developed them. In "A Return, A Rebirth" I let you "borrow" Kosić, not realizing you were going to make a traitor out of him. Since the only plans for Coudriet were "he's a Frenchman," you can do whatever the heck you want with him.)

[Graeme]

(ooc: Esp, be it that it's so early in the RP, it is highly unlikely that any other plans were developed for this character. It was also the perfect chance for me to slip in the story. Also, you can't just simply assume any name that you throw out there will belong to you, only you, and will never be used by other people.

If a reference to a name is all you have attached to someone, and there is no further character development on that person, anyone in the RP holds the right to add more development to that name, unless told not to in the post. It's inane to set such restrictions. This isn't about us writing individual novels and posting them in the same vicinity of eachother. This is, in fact, an RP where the writers are encouraged to bounce ideas off eachother, and interwine their storylines. Writing in any other fashion would make this just plain boring :/.

As far as Kosić goes, I recall asking you if I could use the character as I wanted. Here's my original request, to which you said yes:
Hey, just a little question about Kosić, so I don't mess anything you have going. Do you currently have any plans for 'why', he's after you? Because I have a really good idea (or what I think is a really good idea) for Kosić's character.
If you don't mind, could I use Kosić for a bit in my next post? If it's going to mess up your character's story, don't worry about it, and I can think of something else. But if not, this'd be a great oppurtunity to get me interwined into your story .

As you may have duely noted, I was not overstepping my boundaries. If you didn't want me to afflict Kosić, you should have just told me in the first place.)

[Esperanto]

If a reference to a name is all you have attached to someone, and there is no further character development on that person, anyone in the RP holds the right to add more development to that name, unless told not to in the post. It's inane to set such restrictions. This isn't about us writing individual novels and posting them in the same vicinity of eachother. This is, in fact, an RP where the writers are encouraged to bounce ideas off eachother, and interwine their storylines. Writing in any other fashion would make this just plain boring :/.


Hey, look what I said earlier:

Since the only plans for Coudriet were "he's a Frenchman," you can do whatever the heck you want with him.

Wow, you're quick.

If you don't like being in the same RP as me, then leave. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.

If you don't mind, could I use Kosić for a bit in my next post?

You asked to use him a bit, not steal him and change his entire character.

Just listen to this: don't touch any of my characters.

[Traken]

As Traken exited the central bunker of his compound and stepped out into the courtyard, the ground shook with yet another explosion. Where are they getting this weaponry? he asked himself.

The guard towers on either side of the gate were pounding the ground in front of the gate where the Radicals were making their advance. The right-most tower was also getting pummeled with small arms fire. Still behind the heavy steel blast doors that guarded the entrance, the majority of Traken's French contingency was holding position, ready to pounce. As he continued towards his troops, a lone shoulder-launched rocket flew over the top of the wall and blazed towards the central compound.

Without breaking his stride, Traken raised his left hand, and the air around the incoming rocket seemed to ripple. Suddenly, the rocket banked sharply away, headed back towards the invading forces, and promptly crashed down onto the person firing it, killing him, and injuring two others.

Walking to the front of his forces, he took a position at the tip of a column of Bradley Fighting Vehicles. Extending his arms to his sides, the air in front of the column seemed to take on the appearance of glass, and the gate dropped down into the ground, exposing the Bradleys to the attacking forces.

Almost immediately, the Radicals began to open fire through the now open entrance, however, every round fired towards Traken's forces stopped at the 'glass' and fell to the ground. Slowly, the incoming fire slowed, and then stopped, an eerie silence stretching across the compound. Traken let his shoulders slump a little as he spoke the command he had preferred not to have to utter.

"Fire."

Before he had even finished saying the word, the 25mm chainguns on the front-most two Bradleys barked out their long tomes of fire as the tracer rounds lanced out to meet the still stunned Radicals.

[Yahhred]

A large group of party troops lay in wait inside of what was once a beautiful chapel, but now has been ruined by war. A Party squad leader barked out "We rest for 30" he then flipped a blank stare towards one of his Sergeants, informing him to take a small detail and clear the rooms on the balcony( second floor). Obeying his commander the sergeant gathered a small handfull of men and began systematically checking each room.

The sergeant motioned silently to his men to clear out the hallway ahead, just as he finished with his command he heard a small, minute noise off to his right side, noticing his troops were already out of his way he thought he would investigate alone, he pulled his weapon up, and firmly tucked it into his shoulder, he began to move down that corridor being all to careful of any danger that may be lurking, he came up to the last room in the hallway, he noticed that there was a small flickering light inside, he then foolishly (without radioing backup in case) kicked open the door and shouted "DON'T MOVE!!!" the light was so dim, for there was nothing but an ,almost, extinguished candle on a small wooden table, squinting the sergeant tried to make out the shadowy figure , he shouted again " DROP ON THE FLOOR WITH YOUR HANDS OUT TO YOUR SIDES!!!", the shadowy figure then pulled the candle closer to his body allowing the soldier to see the insignia of a crucifix that was displayed on his right lapel. The sergeant then said "Oh I didn't know it was you father, but you still have to come with me, I apologize for the inconvenience", The priest said "Oh no trouble at all, but may I ask the simplest favor of you sir?", The sergeant skeptically accepted "what is it ?" he said

"Please sit down" said the Priest, as the guard cautiously took his seat, The priest began to speak, he said " You know I would like to share with you a verse, if it is alright with you", "uuuhhhh I guess" said the soldier as he held his gun with purpose.

"wonderful" said the priest as he pushed his bible towards the man, "please....read"
the sergeant picked up the Bible and opened it revealing nothing but a large cut out portion, puzzled at the site he lowered the Bible saying "It's missing part of the----" before he could finish he was staring down the barrel of a very large handgun " the priest then said in a calm voice "Go with God" just as he finished the sentence he fired a single round into the man's head. Forcing him backwards and knocking over the table.

Getting up slowly the priest tapped out a cigarette from his pocket,He then leaned down to light it on the candle which was now resting on the floor next to what once was a solid head. Exhaling a thick cloud of smoke he picked up the Bible and placed his smoking gun inside, climbing down the fire escape located at a rear window, he began to walk down the street clutching his bible close to his heart.


Der Geistliche then vanished into the night.


(OOC: don't worry folks he is a team player ^^ he won't always be by himself)

[Graeme]

(OOC: I don't want to clutter this thread with OOC wars, so I'll keep it short. Esperanto I don't appreciate you openly criticizing my posts when there's nothing wrong with them. I noted that you said I could use the Frenchman, but you did so with reluctance, and managed to take a shot at me while doing it. For what reason may I ask?

Again, if you don't want us to use names you make reference to, buffer your posts with a statement along the lines of "Hey, I have plans for this guy, don't touch him". And if I ask to use on of these aforementioned names, and you say yes, expect me to actually use them, ok? Until you do that, I'll continue to RP as I always have in the past of PvR.

If you don't like being in the same RP as me, then leave. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.

And Esp, if you recall, it was I who invited you to come join us here. The fact that you made the first post was completely coincidental. Stop being so childish, and just RP as we always have in the past. Peace, not war alright?

I'll post some actual storyline tonight hopefully. Edit: Correction, I'll post when I have something to do with my character [need a wee bit of plot advancement before I can do anything that's worth doing.])

[crybaby1117]

(ooc: I think I'm going to let Espy post the "debriefing" then because I don't know his plans and I hate making a post that is completely useless. heh.)

[BlackHawk]

(ooc: I think I'm going to let Espy post the "debriefing" then because I don't know his plans and I hate making a post that is completely useless. heh.)

(OOC: Same, and sorry for that Esp, wasn't thinking. Oh well, I'll see what the next mission is and what he will use.)

[Esperanto]

(OOC: I don't want to clutter this thread with OOC wars, so I'll keep it short. Esperanto I don't appreciate you openly criticizing my posts when there's nothing wrong with them. I noted that you said I could use the Frenchman, but you did so with reluctance, and managed to take a shot at me while doing it. For what reason may I ask?

Again, if you don't want us to use names you make reference to, buffer your posts with a statement along the lines of "Hey, I have plans for this guy, don't touch him". And if I ask to use on of these aforementioned names, and you say yes, expect me to actually use them, ok? Until you do that, I'll continue to RP as I always have in the past of PvR.


The only time I criticized is when I said I didn't like you using my characters.


And Esp, if you recall, it was I who invited you to come join us here. The fact that you made the first post was completely coincidental. Stop being so childish, and just RP as we always have in the past. Peace, not war alright?

Actually, Traken invited me, so you aren't as special as you think. And I'm not being childish, I just don't like people screwing up my story. So you can RP however you want to, just not with any of my characters.

IC:

"The place was abandoned; no guards, no watch dogs, no anything. Except for the man in the General's room," reported Edward Fischer, also known as Apache 1.

"Did it seem to be a trap?" asked Maj. Thomas Brown.

Jacob Markovich spoke up. "It had to be! We just walked right in, and-"

"Don't be so hasty," Fischer broke in. "Maybe we just got the wrong info."

"And maybe they were about to spring a trap and take out the entire team," said Alex Moore, Apache 15.

"How would they know we were coming?" asked Fischer, raising his eyebrows.

"Some kind of leak," said Moore.

"I know that," said Fischer. "A leak where? In APACHE? No one else knew about the op."

"You can't rule out someone on the team," Markovich advised.

"You're right," Maj. Brown said. "I'm going to suspend operations until we find out what's going on. We can't risk losing soldiers."

"Suspend operations?! We can't do that!" exclaimed Moore.

"I just did," replied Brown. "Dismissed."

[Graeme]

(OOC: So now you want to write a novel by yourself Esp? How quaint. Do it somewhere else. As stated earlier, this is an RP, not a novel. You can expect me to RP as I like, within the guidelines as I always have. Being that we're in the same storyline, it is highly likely that we'll end up RP'ing together at one point or another. Suck it up, or get out, because I'm not stopping because you're acting like a child.

I'll post something with actual content in an hour or so.)

[crybaby1117]

Sevieth had stood in the back of the group the whole time. She could sense that the General was right.

Everyone turned and walked back to whatever they were busy doing before they came down for the meeting. Jacob walked up to his room and Sevieth quickly followed suit. They both entered his room and Sevieth shut the door behind them.

"What is it?" Jacob asked, looking at Sevieth. She had a look of concern upon her face.

"He's right." She replied.

"Who is? Right about what?" Jacob asked, moving towards her.

"The General. He's right. I think I know who the turncoat is, but I'm not for sure so I don't really want to say anything. I don't want to get anyone fired like I got Byrd fired." She walked over and sat on his bed.

"Sev, if you know something, you have to let them know. It's whats best for the team. For all of us."

"I know that Jacob! But I'd rather not say anything until I know for sure. It's not like me to just throw accusations at people. I'm not like that." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I know." He walked over to where she was sitting and crouched down to her level. "But, if for no one else, do it for your own saftey."

Sevieth looked into his eyes. "It's Alex."

[Esperanto]

(OOC: So now you want to write a novel by yourself Esp? How quaint.

No, I want to do it with everyone except you.

Do it somewhere else. As stated earlier, this is an RP, not a novel. You can expect me to RP as I like, within the guidelines as I always have. Being that we're in the same storyline, it is highly likely that we'll end up RP'ing together at one point or another.

You may not have realized this, but there are actually people, you being one of them, controlling where the RP goes. There isn't any "destiny;" you're not going to write about me without knowing it. I don't care what you do, because if you try to bring my characters into something I don't want to do, I'll completely disregard your posts.

Suck it up, or get out, because I'm not stopping because you're acting like a child.


I'm fine right where I am. If you aren't, then that's your problem.

[Graeme]

(OOC: Alright then. Once again, it was fun. I had hoped to use my new character, and get back into the flow of things, but apparently I won't. I won't be able to RP at least until Esp stops acting like a child.

I'm not really stopping because I don't like his posts. He's a great RPer, and dedicates a lot of time to this. However, if he's going to isolate my character, I won't have anyone to RP with, since I am the only 'real' party member (Traken isn't 'really' party, so I don't count him :P). With that said, good luck playing this game without any antagonists.

Before I say goodbye, I'd like to clear something up, Esp. Don't bother responding with negativity to this post, because I am not going to be looking at this thread again until you unblock me on MSN and actually talk to me. There's already enough OOC scuttle around here, but this is the only method with which I can talk to you, until you unblock me.

Without further ado, my message to Esperanto: This is not a book, and never will be. You can treat it like a book, but all you'll never truly get that RP feel if you do. You do not have complete control over all of the events that happen in this RP, even though you may like to.

The beauty of a roleplay is that everything is apt to change, whether you like it, or not. You could have great plans for a storyline, but those may have to take the backseat if someone else embarks on their plans before you finalize yours. The idea is that everyone gets to contribute, and we don't all follow the one storyline you dream up. This RP is suppose to be a team effort, so that everyone can interject themself in the story, and everyone can have fun. You make it increasingly difficult for one to actually participate in the story, because if they want to do anything opposite to your ideas, you shun them, or tell them they can't do that.

This is what will be the death of PvR, again.

In my eyes, there are two main problems:
* A ridiculously large number of primary characters
* The inability to accept that other people are allowed to affect the plot

In an RP, a person is given one character. This one character is who they view the changing world through. This one character is who they live, breath and die through. The character is simply an outstretch of the actual person behind the computer, whether it be altered through imagination or not. You are responsible for that character, and that's how it is.

As your character grows, it is bound to meet several other roleplayers, and several other non-player controlled characters. These non-player controlled characters are in no way the property of any sole RPer. They may be used to advance the storyline, or compliment the primary character, but they will never be as important as the main character. This is where you seem to have a little trouble.

You take every character that you conjure up, solely as your character (in other words, you treat them as numerous other primary characters). If anyone else wants to use these secondary characters, not only do they have to go through you, but they have to use the characters in the fashion that you want them to. This, my friend, is called god-modding.

If I, say, attempted to make a drastic story change, not only would you reject it, you would accuse me of stealing your characters in order to do it. But what you don't seem to understand, is that any character that you aren't responsible for (the characters that aren't your primary character), is allowed to be manipulated by others. They are not YOUR characters, they are the RP's characters.

However, I still give you the benefit of the doubt, and before touching these characters, I ask if I can use them. Of course, that isn't enough for fuhrer Esperanto. Oh no, he needs you to use the characters in the way HE wants you to use them. Any other way is considered a giant faux-pas, and he will shun you and ridicule you for the rest of your time spent in PvR. Obviously none of us are allowed to change the plot, in any sort of way. We have to go the way Esperanto goes. Damned, guess I messed up there.

So, what, you ask, does this all mean?

It basically means that it's near impossible to interwine stories with you, because anything one person does must go along the same lines as your 'thought up' story goes. Anything out of your ideas, is wrong. It is also impossible to interwine storylines with you, because we have to ask before using anything that is in anyway related to you. This means we have to send you a PM before even mentioning one of your numerous characters' names. How, may I ask, is it even possible to make a post, without first asking you if we can make it? The only way would be to completely isolating ourselves from your storyline, which (since you started this thread) would mean the end of this storyline.

Don't even bother wondering why more people don't join PvR. It's because you never allow them any openings into the storyline. And when they try to make their own openings, you ignore them.)

[Esperanto]

Radlin's right. I quit.

[crybaby1117]

You know, I have never in my life wanted to say this to someone so bad, but God Damn You Radlin.

[GrassDragon]

uhh, i guess i dont get it. do you two just have a personal vendetta or something? cause im pretty sure this forum was supposed to be filled with long, involved storylines, created by people who work together by bringing new ideas to one another and changing the story as it goes. i could be wrong though, after all, i am new to the whole RP thing.

[BlackHawk]

Another thread hits the dust.

[Traken]

(OOC: The thread has hardly bitten the dust. There are still two valid storylines in it, being mine and Yahhred's. Re-route your characters into one of those.)

[Graeme]

You know, I have never in my life wanted to say this to someone so bad, but God Damn You Radlin.

Remember how you said there's no harm in trying?

Regardless, this isn't the end. I'm sure Esp will be back, and I'll start posting as well. We've begun to settle our qualms via MSN, and hopefully we can get back to friendly terms.

[crybaby1117]

*sigh* Your right Radlin. I did say that. I'm sorry I said that (the above quote) I was upset and angry and frustrated. I don't want EITHER of you guys to leave PVR, but I ESPECIALLY didn't want Espy leaving. He's the only reason I'm even doing PVR anymore... :(

[Dark_Eagle]

*sigh* Your right Radlin. I did say that. I'm sorry I said that (the above quote) I was upset and angry and frustrated. I don't want EITHER of you guys to leave PVR, but I ESPECIALLY didn't want Espy leaving. He's the only reason I'm even doing PVR anymore... :(


And here I thought you guys were doing it specifically to entertain me while I am stuck at school 24/7

[T-Dawg]

well clearly i was.

[Esperanto]

-------August 3, 2028--------


Bill Jackson was barely holding off the Party soldiers attacking his position. He was running out of ammo, fast. If he could get to the stairs down the hall, he should be safe. Be he needed precious seconds, which he didn't have. He fired off a few shots at the stairway coming down, just to let the Party soldiers. He waited fifteen seconds, and then ran forward.

He got to the stairs, then froze. There were five party soldiers in the stairwell. He dove to the side, firing his MP-5, but he was hit in the left shoulder. He ran back to the cover of an overturned desk. His shoulder bled profusely, but he would survive.

Just then, Markovich's voice came through the radio. "Jackson, you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Short delay. I'll be out soon."

"You better. I'm in a tunnel under the outskirts of the city. There's nothing more I can do here. I'm heading back to Belgrade to prepare them for an attack."

"I'll catch up," Jackson said.

"Goodbye, Bill."

"See you later, Jake."

Jackson pulled out the detonator for the C4. He didn't really want to blow himself up, but he might not have a choice. Suddenly, he had an idea. He would jump out of the window by his sniper rifle. Not high on his list of fun things to do, but he'd have a better chance of survival than if he stayed in the building. He stood up behind his modest cover, the desk. He emptied the clip of his MP-5. Detonator in hand, he ran toward the window, which was 15 feet away. As he jumped, he hit the detonator.

Almost instantly, the windows on three sides of the hospital blow out. Before the smoke cleared, the entire hospital tilted over, parallel to the street. The remaining side started to tear in half. The top of the hospital fell down and outwards, crushing the ground floor of the building and the surrounding area. The bricks and beams crashed on the ground. Everyone in the hospital died swift deaths.

------------

Jackson opened his eyes to see a large brick that had fallen mere inches away from his face. He sat up. He was covered in dust from the collapsed hospital, and was in the middle of what had been a street. There was rubble and dust everywhere.

He suddenly noticed an immense pain in his left arm. It was broken. He took an inventory of his other injuries, and, amazingly, that seemed to be the only broken bone.

Jackson stood up, holding his left arm in his right. He looked around, but there was no sign of activity, Party or Radical. I better make myself scarce before the Party decides to show itself. He walked down the dusty road, making his way around the debris. He stopped to pick up a pistol from a fallen Party soldier, then continued on his way.

He made it to the edge of the city just as the sun was going down. Where to now? he asked himself. He remembered looking at a map of the region. The closest town was Ruma, about 20 miles due south of Novi Sad.

This is not going to be fun with a broken arm.


------April 7,2031------

Bill Jackson adjusted the collar on his police rain coat. He looked up into the falling rain and smiled. This is one time where the rain would be more of a help than a hindrance. He looked at his watch. It was 10:18 pm. The limousine would come any second…

There it was. A black stretch limousine turned the corner 4 blocks from where Jackson was standing. He pulled the coat around his face, and stepped out into the street to wave the car down. It stopped.

Jackson walked over to the driver’s side window, which had been rolled down.

“Can I help you, officer?” the driver asked, in French.

“We’ve had reports that there are large amounts of narcotics being smuggled using a car of this description,” Jackson said, with a hint of a German accent. “I’m afraid I’m going to ask you to exit the car and allow me to inspect it.”

“You can’t be serious! This is a diplomatic vehicle, as you can clearly…”

“I’m sorry, sir, but you and all the occupants are going to have to exit the vehicle.”

The driver scowled, then turned to his passengers. He said something in Russian, then removed his seat belt and got out of the car. From the back came two large men in tuxedos, followed by a short, balding man with gray hair.

“Thank you very much,” said Jackson, as he crawled into the car. His inspection took around ten minutes, and appeared to be very thorough, but a professional could tell he was only making the motions.

Jackson climbed out of the car. “I’m very sorry for the inconvenience.”

The balding man had an obvious Russian accent. “I’m sure you are,” he said, sarcastically. “Did you find anything?”

“No, sir, you’re free to go. One more thing, though,” he said, as the men moved toward the car.

“What now?” the balding man said, getting impatient.

Jackson’s silenced.22 caliber pistol slid out from its hidden holster in his sleeve. He quickly shot the two bodyguards with a zip! zip!. The driver went for a gun in a hidden shoulder holster, but Jackson shot him in the forehead before he could do any harm.

The balding man’s eyes were wide open. “You…you…”

“Killed them. Like I’m about to kill you, you spineless bastard.” Zip! The man fell on the ground.

Jackson holstered the gun, then looked around. There were no witnesses. He pulled his coat’s collar tighter around his face, then walked away at a brisk pace.


-------The following day-------

“Ok, so some guys were murdered,” Markovich said to Maj. Brown. “That means what to me? Why should it affect us?”

“These weren’t just any guys; it was the Russian foreign minister and his bodyguards.”

Markovich’s eyes widened. “Part of the puppet government?”

“No, this guy was Party. High level. One of the guys pulling the strings.”

“Sounds good to me. Where do we come in?”

“A man claiming to be the killer contacted us earlier today. He wants to meet with us.”

“Are we going to?”

“Not we, you.”

“Oh, great, just send me off to get killed by a psychopath.”

“This guy’s no psycho; he knows what he’s doing. And he won’t be a problem for the Great Jacob Markovich.” Brown smiled.

“Ok, I’ll do it. When do I meet him?”

Maj. Brown looked at his watch. “Two hours.”

----------------------------

Markovich sat alone at an outdoor café. The rain had stopped, but the chairs were still wet, and there was no telling if it would start raining again soon.

He had placed a large red apple on the table as a sign for the man he was meeting. Jacob took a sip of his water and wondered when this vigilante would arrive.

He felt raindrops. Oh, great. Now it’s raining. I love this job.

Markovich saw a man in a trench coat come around a building into view. He was walking directly toward Markovich. Jacob finished off his water and waited.

The man came up to Markovich’s table, pulled out a chair, and sat down; all without making eye contact.

“Ok, so who are you?” Markovich asked.

The man looked up at Jacob. His eyes widened. “Jake?!”

Markovich had a puzzled look on his face, until the other man pulled his coat away from his face. It was Bill Jackson. I thought he was dead! “Bill?!”

“Yeah…” replied Jackson, not knowing what to say.

“You’re dead!”

“Not really,” Jackson said with a grin.

Despite the now pouring rain, William Jackson and Jacob Markovich talked at the café for another hour, before heading back to the secret Radical base. They had much to catch up on.

[crybaby1117]

Sevieth was sitting at a small desk in her room. Typing quickly at a lap top computer that sat amongst various books and newpaper clippings and papers. She was so busy with her work that she didn't hear the commotion down stairs. Steadily she typed while looking over some of the articles that were strew upon her desk. She had headphones over her ears playing soft music to keep her mind focused on the task at hand. She jumped slightly as she felt someone touch her shoulder.

"Sevieth? You busy?" Jacob asked, pulling her headphones off of her head.

"Just a little bit. But I always have time to spare for you. What's up?" She asked, closing her lap top and turning around in her chair. When she did she saw a strange man standing in her doorway. Both men were soaking wet and she stood from her chair.

"Sevieth, I'd like you to meet Bill Jackson. He was a team mate of mine from many years ago." He said, pointing to Bill as she spoke. Sevieth smiled and walked closer to the man, extending her hand.

"Wow. It's always such a pleasure to meet friends of Jacobs. How do you do? You both look absolutely soaked. Can I get you both a towel? Maybe some hot tea?" She said, moving towards the door past Bill.

"I could use some tea. Bill you want any?" Jacob asked, moving towards her desk. He lifted the top to her lap top and looked at what she had been working on. Looked like a short work of fiction based on fact. Sevieth was well known around the base as a great fiction author. That is, when she had time, she wrote.

Sevieth returned with two towels and noticed Jacob looking at her story. "Hey hey hey!" She said, walking over to her desk. She put the top to her computre back down and gave him a stern look. "Not until it's finished. But I love the fact that your so interested in it that you had to sneak a peek." She giggled as she leaned up and kissed his cheek, handing him a towel. She handed Bill his towel and then started walking back out of the room.

"I'll be back with that Tea! Make yourselves at home! And no more peeking!!" She yelled to them as she made her way down the stairs and into the large kitchen to the west of the building.

After about 20 minutes she returned to her room. Neither was there. She walked down the hall to Jacobs room and found them there. Remeniscing. She set the cups of tea down and then walked back out. They needed their time. And she wanted to finish her story before it all left her mind.

[Esperanto]

"What did you do in Munich?" Markovich asked. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, talking to Jackson, who was on a simple wooden chair, leaning forward.

"Not a whole lot. I intensive study in languages; thought that might help me somehow. It did. Kind of hard to pose as a French policeman without knowing French." He grinned.

"But why didn't you contact any Radicals? We thought you were dead."

"I know," said Jackson, the grin fading from his face. "It was just easier to operate alone, y'know?"

"Yeah, I guess." Markovich was silent for a few moments. "Did you know I was here?"

"No, it was just a coincidence. I finally decided it might be a good idea to have some help."

"Well, you looked in the right place. Might be a while before we run any more ops, though."

"Why's that?"

"Well, we had a little trouble with the last one. We suspect we might have a leak."

"So you're just supposed to stay on base until the higher-ups figure out what to do?"

"Pretty much. I'm sure there wouldn't be much opposition to you staying here. Let's go talk with Maj. Brown."

-----------

Sevieth leaned back in her chair, taking a break to think about the story she was writing. She thought she heard her door open, and she turned quickly towards it. No one was there. She went back to typing.

Suddenly she felt hands on her shoulders. She jumped, then turned her head.

"Hi," Jacob Markovich said, smiling.

"Don't do that!"

"Aw, come on. Just having a little fun."

"Jake...."

"Ok, ok, I won't do it again. Jackson's staying on base for a while."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Might actually do some operations with us, if we ever get those started again." Markovich bent down, his hands still on Sevieth's shoulders. "So, what'cha writing?"

Sevieth pushed him away, playfully. "I already said you couldn't read it yet!"

[crybaby1117]

Sevieth stood from her chair and turned to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning up to kiss him. He was so much taller than her, so she basically had to stand on her toes to reach him. Which wasn't a problem since he would always pick her up so her lips could reach his. When she pulled away they both smiled and she turned back to her computer and sat back down.

"I'm stuck." She admitted.

"What?" Jacob asked, looking at her quizically.

"Writers block." She said, as if she were disgusted in the words. She slammed the top to her computer down and put her elbows on her desk and held her head in her hands.

"You'll get through it. You always do." Jacob said, bending down to meet her eyes.

"I know. Thank you. I can always count on you to help me." She leaned over and kissed him. They were interupted when a sharp knock came at Sevieth's door.

"Hey Jake, Sev, sorry to interupt, but dinner is on the table." Jackson said, turning around and leaving the room. Sevieth sighed as they both stood. She hadn't had much time alone with Jake, and it was really putting her under alot of stress.

"I'm uh, not feeling well. I think I'll go to bed." Sevieth said, walking towards her bed. She sat down and took her boots off.

"You sure? You want me to bring you anything?" Jacob asked, looking at her.

"No, I'm fine. I just have migraine. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine in the morning." Sevieth replied, walking towards her closet. She pulled out some scrub bottoms and a tee-shirt to sleep in and as Jacob left her room, he closed her door and she quickly changed. She crawled into bed and turned the light out beside her bed. Quickly, she fell asleep.

When Jacob made his way down to the dinning area he found Jackson sitting at a table with a plate. Jacob grabbed himself a plate and then sat infront of Jackson.

"She isn't coming?" Jackson asked, looking at Jacob with concern.

"No. She isn't feeling very well. I think she is mad about her story she is writing. Mad because she can't think of a way to finish it. Oh well. What can I do about it? Nothing." Jacob replied, taking a sip of his drink.

Jackson nodded. He took a bite of his spaghetti and didn't say another word during the entire meal.

[Traken]

(OOC: Just a heads up, I'm moving over to the other storyline for now. So you can just disregard my previous stuff. :))

[crybaby1117]

No one noticed while everyone was eating that Alex Moore had slipped out of the dining hall. Everyone was still enjoying their meals when Sevieth came down to the hall with a gun pointed at Alex's head.

Maj. Brown stood up. "What is the meaning of this Sevieth?!"

"I caught him phoning someone from his room. He was telling them our coordinates and organizing an attack. He is the leak sir."

Alex denied nothing. His eyes dropped to the floor. He knew for sure that this would be the death of him.

"Jacob." Maj Brown started. Jacob stood from his seat. "Take care of him."

[Whiteknight]

(OOC: Not one for letting a thread die, eh?

EDIT: Then again, I wonder if I should join this one...)

[crybaby1117]

Actually, I was writing that to give Espy some material. The thread was dying because he had writers block. I'm hoping to combat this. lol.

[Whiteknight]

Okay...

BTW, what happened to you in not posting?

[crybaby1117]

(ooc:I never said I wasn't going to post anymore. Espy and Radlin did. But they both wised up and get their shit together and here we are. Okey. Enough ooc stuff. Lets hope Espy comes in and thinks of something. *crosses her fingers*)