Touch the Source

[T-Dawg]

The moon stretched out her long arms and the rays caressed the soft star lit sky. On a cleary evening you could even see the scrapped lunar base. The road was bare, the land scape even more so. The war had already swept through Chicago, one too many times. A cold wind screamed through the empty alleys and ruined buildings.

This was home. He was home. He walked down the street to the destroyed theatre, walked quite opennly with the mark of the radicals on his black cloak. A bullet narrowly missed him, not but an inch from his face.

The cloacked man, with great haste pulled out a fully automatic hand gun and released round after round into a stray skyscraper, without even looking at where he was shooting. He released his finger from the trigger. Seconds later a corpse hit the sidewalk.

A few trained Party soldiers came to spring their final trap, they too, found the eternal sleep. The man put away his guns, and turned down the street walking towards the lake. Off in one of the buildings where about Michigan Avenue used to stand, the cloaked figure slipped into an unmarked building.

"State the pas.. ahhh my head," hollered the guard standing there. He fell down into agony.

Another rushing soldier came near and fell into wracking pain.

"I appologze, Mark, John, for not having the time to pre warn you, but I must speak with Malx, the party knows of this outpost. we have to move."

The figure rushed passed many more guards who in turn cringed in pain. He finally made it into the back office which had many maps spread everywhere and anywhere: across the desk, walls, and even some scattered on the floor.

"Lt. Malx, I am here to inform you that the Party is on the move again, we need to make haste. Someone jepordized our location, I believe we have a mole."

Malx cracked but a smirk, "Alright, let's move out, the party won't get us this time. good job Shadowstar."
Malx openned the drawer of his desk reaching in.

Shadowstar grinned, pulled his sword, Infinity's End, and ended the life of the mole. Only Prexis can bestow the power to resist my unstable magicks unto humans with no natural magical ability. "you forgot to cringe this time old friend."

Shadowstar was on the move, trying to supress his unstable magical condition.
"Alright guys, we are on code red, we gotta move. Go. Go. Go. We are making for Han Over by night fall we gotta move. Malx was a mole. The party knows we are here."

And into the night they made their way. Shadowstar though stayed back, he had some hunting to do.

[SterlingRat]

(OOC This is my first attempt at posting or joining the PvR game... If you had something arranged with someone else, feel free to delete this.)

"ummmm. sir?" whispered PFC Hauptman, "the signal is scrambled again. I think something happened to Eugeo."

Virgil Silverheals, currently on watch command, set down his glass cleaner, carefully arranging it next to the filter cleaner exactly 4.5 centimeters apart. Crouching next to the private in an unmarked van, Virgil glanced over at the screen. "So what, Private? We lose the signal everytime that big cloaked guy comes in. The boss said it had something to do with unstable magical resonance fields or some other thing. It doesn't matter, we got most of what we were here for already. From what we've heard just being near him is painful, so they don't invite him along to many meetings.

"Besides, it's scrambled, right? Prexis said the thing ran off his 'life energy' so if he dies, the signal would stop, not just be scrambled, right?"

Then the signal stopped.

"Just shut yer mouth. I do not want to hear it," Virgil paused to consider for a moment, "Send in the assault, try to scatter them quickly before they have a chance to clean the place out. There may still be documents or other useful information to be retrieved, if we get there quick."

"sir?" this time Hauptman's whisper was accompanied by a slightly raised hand.

"We are not in school or in training anymore, private. Act like you got a pair, would ya?"

"How did they spot Eugeo? Prexis fixed it so that magic wouldn't show, and he was trained by the best in the Party." PFC Hauptman met Virgil's eyes without blinking.

"Are you saying the problem was my disguise? It was perfect. I hardly ever have a live model to work with..." Virgil broke eye contact first. He reached over to the third man in the cramped van, sliding the ropes around his wrists a little so the knot was in the exact center. "Malx has been a perfect model for days since you all stopped beating him."

[T-Dawg]

He peered past the curtain that covered most of the window, "damn it all," he cursed, "the party is already here, not good, not good at all."

Shadowstar surveyed the scene, most of the radical forces were making their way out of the building already, into the sewers below. He sweeped the complex once more to destroy the last bits of evidence, and he went to the highest level the building had to offer. Standing at the window he waited, his eyes spotted all the shadows moving on his position.

Shadowstar knew that this was going to be a long night, and when he saw the moon glitter over the night sky his thoughts turned back to his lost mentor Solistus, the Great Solarian, where ever he might be. Shadowstar heard the door being kicked down, and he snapped out of his daze.

He walked back, and went full out into a sprint, crashing into the window, and falling forty or fifty feet, and though his magic eased his fall, he still managed to hit the ground brutally hard. The sound was loud enough that the Party had done an one eighy degree swing and was already chasing the fugitive boy. Shadowstar pulled out his twin guns, Destruction and Devastation, and fired into the armored party soldiers.

The psychic scream Shadowstar let out was enough to cripple everyone in the area, he managed to slay a few more soldiers before deciding to run. Then he felt a painful sting in his left leg, "Damn, how did they hit me?"

Shadowstar managed to pull himself into the ruined museum before he grew tired and the pain began to overwhelm him. "This place has already seen one battle, perhaps tonight we shall show it another."

He reloaded his guns, and meditated, trying to feel the Source that was all around him. Blood trickled down his face from where he had fell, and a small red pool formed around his left leg. He felt them coming, there would be another battle tonight.

(feel free Sterling to keep jumping on in. perhaps a battle with shadowstar or the escaping radicals will ensue?)

[SterlingRat]

"Arrrgh!" Virgil fell out of the van clutching his head as the psychic scream ripped through his mind. As he pain eased and he recovered his senses, he adjusted the radio headset he wore, trying to get it even on his head. once he had it straight, he started to calm and regain his senses.

"All Units, status report, stat. Observer Two, Get me a 20 on that cloaked mage, relay to all snipers... put that Radical down ASAP before he slaughters us all." A commanding voice seemed to calm the panic resulting from that scream, as the party forces recovered and took stock of the situation.

"O2 here, Target has entered Museum off Michigan, sniper 3 repositioning for shot, S2 is comm-silent."

"Advance 1, sir. Pulling back. That insane mage jumped out a 4th story window right in the middle of us. We suffered a near total loss, pulling back to Combat Loss group, ETA 3 minutes. I thought we had him, but we only got his leg."

"Neg, A1. If you can talk, you can shoot. Block the main entrance, terminate anyone exiting the premesis." Virgil climbed to his feet slowly, taking time to adjust his suit while issuing orders. There was a stain on the right leg of his trousers, a full centimeter in diameter just above the cuff. The suit was completely ruined.

"Advance 2 here, sir. Rear door penetrated, light resistance."

"Observer 2, have you got anyone leaving the build?"

"Negative, O1. No runners since since out jumping mage."

"What do you mean, none? We have at least 5 confirmed Radical targets still in the building. It would be foolish for them to stay... surely they know they are outnumbered and outgunned here."

"Confirming.... No runners, O1. Nothing but us and the mage on the street. Mage appears to be... Meditating? He appears to be waiting for us sir."

"Contain team, what is your status?" Someone has got to be able to see where those radicals went.

"Awaiting your orders, sir."

"Wait no longer, contain. Check the maps, I need you to identify any other exits, yesterday."

"Only other possible is thru the sewers, sir. The mainline is 500 yards South by Southwest, but the connecting line has been sealed since the last war."

"I would say it's unsealed now, Contain. Advance 2, you are looking for a sewer entrance. Confirm when building is secure. PIE team, hold position until building secured." As the men went to fill thier various orders, Virgil steeled himself for what he must do.

Approaching the driver's side of the van, Virgil tried to calm himself, repeating over and over 'he's only a man. he's only a man. he's only a man.' He just wished he could silence the nagging voice that kept reminding him that this 'man' was trained by Prexis himself to deal with Radical mages. He could almost feel the disgust from the man when he saw the ruined suit. Trying to swallow his stomach, which was lodged in his throat, he knocked on the window.

Piercing black eyes turned toward him. Virgil vaguely remembers sputtering out the situation and sensing the man's anger, then his amusement. What followed was a chuckle that he could feel freezing his chest, then the man was out of the car and walking toward the Museum. As soon as those eyes left him, as he always did, Virgil struggled to remember the man's face. As usual, all he could remember was the eyes, and his words.

"Well, we mustn't keep him waiting."

Returning to the rear of the van, Virgil felt the sudden urge to kill PFC Hauptman. Malx's chair was overturned and he was nowhere in sight. What's worse, when Hauptman fell he had knocked over the alphabetical stack of cleaners and tried to fix them.... it was so obvious. The Glass cleaner was next to the Window cleaner and only spaced 3.9 centimeters apart, instead of 4.5.

[T-Dawg]

The rotted door to the museum slammed open, the night flooded into the room. Shadowstar openned his eyes and rose slowly, letting the blood flow return to legs and arms. He stared at this peculiar man long and hard. He sensed the psychic impressions of Lord Prexis all over him.

Flashbacks raced into Shadowstars mind, when he himself had been an assassin. When he himself, had been sent to kill for the party. Shadowstar came back to reality, and smirked his usual confident smile, "Leave now, and change your ways, for evil shall inherit the wind good friend."

The Mage-Killer met with an equal smirk and replied most casually "it seems you have not been educated, only the party can produce things of righteousness. I have been sent here to rid you sinner of this planet. Only you shall find the wind this night."

Shadowstar sighed, he already had done too much killing this night, but it seemed to him, he would have to do one more. "So I assume you know the rules of this game mage-killer? You have danced this conga of death before?"

"Flawlessly."

Shadowstar laughed, "Alright, then, let us begin shall we." Shadowstar pulled out his sword, Infinity's End, and went into a 30-70 stance, and waited for his opponent to draw his weapon.

"My name is Morris Marks, I shall be your savior, in case you would like to thank me for rescuing your soul."

Shadowstar waited patiently for the Mage-Killer to make his move. He did. Morris pulled out two long daggers and swept into attack in a whirlwind of steel. Guns were of no use here, the bullets would almost always be deflected. With the left dagger a low trust, and with the right, a large sweeping arc. Block and parry rang out. Shadowstar followed with a horizontal cut which the mage-killer morris managed to dive over. Shadowstar swung around just quick enough to block the on rush of attacks.

"Hmm, you are no rookie, Mage-Killer, Prexis has finally dubbed me worthy of his elite eh?" Shadowstar chuckled to himself.

"Your sins against the party have been far too great, to let you go unreprimanded." replied Morris Marks, who came in with another attack routine. Thrust, trust, slice but were all blocked.

Morris came in again, with a double thrust low, and with a sweeping uppercut with his sword, Shadowstar managed to foil the attack. The Mage-Killer was growing impatient, and tried a risky manuever, he flicked his wrist and sent a dagger to the air. Shadowstar seeing this mentally stopped it.

"precisely," Morris managed to think to himself, as his knife found flesh, distracting Shadowstar is all he had to do to land this attack.

"Damn it, another wound," Shadowstar thought as he shook with pain. Shadowstar let out a scream and rushed the mage-killer, sword dropped, and though he was cut several more times in the process, he managed to place both his hands tightly around Morris's throat. After several minutes of doomed wrestling, Morris was dead.

There was a pool of mixed blood on the floor, and Shadowstar had lost lots of blood himself. His concentration waned, his thoughts wandered. He barely could place his sword back into its sheathe.

Shadowstar stumbled into the sewers below the museum, and hid himself in the shadows. He prayed that the party would not find him, or at least, not find him alive. His finger itched, and there was still a gun on his belt.

[T-Dawg]

Shadowstar awoke hours later, when he heard splashes hurrying to his location.

"Damn, I wonder how long I have been out."

There was defintely no time to think, just act. Shadowstar burst into a gimped sprint and then he heard gunfire. He pulled his own guns and shot down the sewer, sparks lit the darkened alley.

Shadowstar then heard "C'mon guys, he's there, we are gonna need to get him outta there." And cover fire entered as Shadowstar rounded the corner. It was a radical recon team.

"dammit, Reda, and you too Zid. I told you not to come back for me!"

"And what? Let them 'reeducate' you, no way man." Reda cringed in pain.

Shadowstar concentrated hard, and struggled to control his psychic emenations. "Let's get moving, the party is getting near, and I think I killed one of their elite Mage-Killers, they are pretty pissed."

The team was almost at the surface, when they noticed something, Shadowstar had slipped off into the shadows again. "Dammit! Why'd he do that?" Zid yelled.

"No time, he had his chance," Reda replied, "We have to leave him, damn him, I should have known he would pull some stunt like that. Damn mages and their damned meglomania."

Zid sighed, "let's get to Han Over guys, I have a feeling someone is waiting for us there."

[SterlingRat]

"Well this operation has gone to hell in a humvee. O2, how is our Ubersmench doing? Has he eliminated that Radical mage yet?" Virgil's voice is strained, showing his irritation.

"Not exactly"

"Then they are still fighting? We need to give him more time, then. Advance 2 and 3...." Virgil's next order gets cutoff by his comm unit.

"They are not fighting anymore, sir," Observation team 2's dire implication yields some unexpected results.

"Excelent, Observation team. That is the first good news I have heard since we first captured Malx. Hauptman, make a note: I owe that Radical a beer before his first educational class. Now, someone find me a corpse, preferably a fresh one... we need a new model."

Virgil began pacing the room, what had once been a store room when the building was first built, it had served as the Radical headquarters while they were here. Eugeo's still-disguised corpse had been removed, and now frantic PIE (Party Inteligence Enclave) personel were attempting to find any scrap that had survived the hasty Radical withdrawal.

Virgil would trade half his pension for even one whole map in this mess. Pausing to stare into the slowly shinking pile of shreaded paper, Virgil refused to allow the thought that the information he needed might not be here.... because unless they caught one of the fleeing Radicals, this was all he had. 'Although,' he thinks with a smile, 'my nerves could do with some good, old fasioned paperwork. Just like those puzzles I used to put together as a boy.'

As it always did (since the associative-therapy sessions in the ducation camp) thoughts of his youth immediately turned to thoughts of his father, which moved to his fathers death and his reason for hating the radicals.

All thoughts of how much he personally disliked the Mage-killer slipped from his mind, months of conditioned responses and programmed emotions took over. Suddenly transformed, the Mage-Killer becomes another innocent victim of unstable Radical magics, another soul to be avenged, another debt to be repaid.

Anger welled up inside him as he got the news he most wanted to hear.

"Sir! We have them! I make 3 targets, 200 yards south-by-southwest of your current location. The fools came back for the mage, sir. Sniper 2 has a clean line on one of our newcomers." Observer 2's voice was filled with satisfaction.

"Advance 2 and 3, Contain team, we have contacts! 200 yards south-by southwest, switch to observer 2's chanel for direction for directions, thats niner-niner-four. Isolate and contain, I want a prisoner, but I only need one. Remember what happened to Advance 1 and keep your eyes open! We may have them outgunned 10 to one, but they have us out-magicked one to zero."

[Traken]

(OOC: Hey, guys. I kinda dug myself into a hole in the other storyline so I'm just gonna screw it and hop over here. Should make things interesting. ;) And I appologize for the somewhat crappy entrance. I was in a hurry and I just wanted to jumpstart things again.)

Black smoke and a red flash of light signalled his coming. Stepping out of the now dissipating cloud of shadows, Traken looked around.

He was standing roughly in the middle of one of the wide open parks located in Chicago. Amidst the rubble and destroyed buildings, it almost seemed like this spot had somehow been untouched by the destruction.

As a hard wind blew across the field, Traken turned, his coat flapping in the wind, surveying the surrounding area.

"I know you're around here, somewhere, mage," Traken muttered to himself.

He hadn't made contact with Solistus for about half a year now. Someone must know where he is by now, he thought to himself.

Traken could feel the eminations from the 'Insanity Mage' as he used to be known, but he could not pinpoint his location.

Grumbling to himself, Traken turned and began heading in the general direction the eminations.

[T-Dawg]

Shadowstar looked about, his mind sparked.

"hmm, there are greater powers to be, than these mere soldiers. where hence does that power come?"

Shadowstar swung about from the corner he was thus hidden, blazed a hail of lead from his twin handguns, and let out a psionic screech to pierce the ears of those that may take action upon him.
The emanation was a dangerous tactic, he was unaware if this impression could be felt by the other being that now lurked among him.

"Let us meet, great magic weilder," Shadowstar seemed to mutter, "I have grown far too tired of this petty fighting, perhaps the party has sent someone worthy of a battle. This is not an aura I reconize, not Prexis. So whom?"

[SterlingRat]

"Observation 2 here, we have a new player in the museum. Another mage just appeared in a flash of smoke. I am not making that up, either. Friend or foe unknown at this time."

"Two mages? This is getting serious. Sniper 2, hold your shot... don't reveal your position until we know if the new mage is a radical also. Advance teams, find cover and secure all exits to the museum. Hauptman, get in here and start organizing these maps. P.I.E. team, get into the tunnels and find the sewer entrance to the museum. Co-ordinate with observation 2 for deployment. Be careful of traps and ambushes, don't hurry so much you get careless. Once you have the sewer covered, hold position for further orders." Virgil could feel the excitement of the hunt growing inside him, and had to carefully control it to look at the situation with clinical detachment. Just another training excercise, he told himself.

"Advance 2, in position at north exit."

"Advance 3, in position at south exit."

"All surface exits covered. PIE team, status report.... Is the sewer covered?" just as he finished asking, an explosion rocked the building. "Damn it, i told you to watch for traps! PIE team, REPORT!"

"This is Clifford... Uhhh, PIE specialist, second class. I guess I am in charge here now, a mine just collapsed the tunel on top of most of the team, we have wounded."

"Damn it, check the others, make sure they are dead," Virgil cursed softly, wondering how he would explain taking heavy losses with nothing to show for it but a bunch of trashed maps.

After a few moments passed, Virgil heard the echo of gunshots in the sewers below.

"Ok, they are dead now. What next, sir?"

[Traken]

Traken had been heading toward the emminations for some time now. He was sure he was getting close, as the 'cloud' of psionic emissions was now all around him.

He had been walking with his eyes closed. His mind was totally focused on attempting to pinpoint this... This what? Traken wondered to himself. Friend or foe?

While he turned the thought over in his head, the psionic mist around him flared bright white in his mind's eye. Suddenly, it collapsed into a pinprick, before blasting outward again in the form of a psionic scream.

The blast flowed around Traken, and he grinned. Flexing the heavy black gauntlet on his left hand, he focused on where the pinprick had been a moment ago, and spoke out, to no one in partictular.

"I have you now."

Traken vanished in a blast of red light and a cloud of black.

[T-Dawg]

Shadowstar for the first time in a long time, panicked.

"the power, the might, it is far too strong to be a mage-slayer, not dark enough to be Lord Prexis, and not pure enough to be a the incarnate of the Great Solarian." Shadowstar gaped.

Shadowstar remembered his one distinct advantage when dealing with those that weilded the source, he was a psion, a power from within, he connected directly with the source, much as a Solarian might, his history gave him an erratic nature, which may yet let him escape from such great a power, if the time came. Yes, Shadowstar was sure, if he needed to escape he could, but not it seemed his fate was destined for this figure he had sensed.

Shadowstar entered the magic plane, and in a standing meditation allowed himself to begin to search for the entity.

"It is time," Shadowstar announced, "we shall meet now."

[Traken]

Just as Shadowstar had uttered those words, a burst of light and shadow tore through the air infront of him.

Standing from a crouching position as the shadows around him disappeared, Traken turned to face his 'adversary.'

"Greetings," Traken said, smiling.

[T-Dawg]

"Greetings it is," Shadowstar smirked, this figure was quite the powerful force, but it seemed that the guantlet on his hand, emanated the focal point of the power.

"The Cradle? You must be Lord Traken, without a doubt." Shadowstar bit down on his lip.
"What brings you here Rogue Party member, what dealing do you have with me?" Shadowstar put away his guns, knowing their ineffective nature against a brethern mage, and drew his longsword, Infinity's End, which gleamed its rune covered blade across the darkness of the sewers.

"I know of you, Cursed One, what do you so require of me?" Shadowstar's nature irritated by not only the cradle, but by the rogue party member amplifying painful memories of his former life.

[SterlingRat]

"Observer 2 here sir. Confirmed, radical mage just vaporized the newcomer. Guess he was a friend. The air just shimmered for a second then there was a flash of red light, and then the new mage was reduced to a cloud of black smoke."

"Great. I am starting to get the impression we are in serious trouble here. Sniper 2, after the shot, break down and move. If your shot doesn't take him out, you will be officially running for your life, either from him or from me, is that understood?" Pausing a moment to consider the possibilities, Virgil concluded that they had lost enough. It was time to finish these upstart Radicals and move on to a new location with what he had.

"You are a go for the shot, Sniper 2. Repeat, you have a green light to take him down."

"Holding, sir... now the damned Radical disappeared. What the hell is going on here?"

"Damn magic. Keep me posted. I think I better be going in there." Virgil hated getting involved personally, but this is the only way he might salvage something of this botched operation.

(OOC: sorry for the edits, the posts are coming too fast for me to keep up)

[Traken]

Traken continued to smile, but his eyes hardened. He stood, staring at Shadowstar for a minute, his arms crossed, the Cradle snapping open and closed, reflexively, like a bear trap.

"Your sword will be of no use. I'd hate to have you get harmed when I am only here to speak with you. But if you insist on a struggle," he continued, his pistol, bearing the marks of the 3rd Legion snapping out of his sleeve into his hand. "Who am I to disappoint?"

[T-Dawg]

"only yourself," Shadowstar smirked.

Shadowstar tapped into the weave with all the might that he could conjure, sending the most violent scream through the air. Debris kicked up in the physical world, and the magic plane clouded itself with energy, the swirling mist made it hard to see on either plane.

"My friend, I have been forwarned of you, I shall not be such easy prey. What have you to do with me now? Tell me that, or shall we get onto a more deadly game?"

[Traken]

Traken laughed. This could be quite fun. Small wisps of black shadow began to linger around the fingertips of the Cradle, as his eyes hardened.

"As enjoyable as this may be, I did not hunt you down to destroy you. I know of your ties to the Solarian. I must find him."

Traken's eyes narrowed.

"Where is he?"

[SterlingRat]

"Observation 2 is blind, repeat... O2 is blind. Something just kicked up so much dust and debris that we have lost all surveilance."

"Unbelievable. At this point, elephants falling from the sky would not surprise me. I am really starting to hate magic. All advance teams, hold position, I don't want those radicals slipping past us." Virgil searched his memmory for more curse words, having already used every english curse word he knew. He started cursing in spanish just for variety.

Virgil took to the street, returning to the van for his equipment. He took his personal modified tranquilizer dart gun, and his SPAS-12 pump-action shotgun. He traded in his earpiece for a flak helmet with a built in radio and his suit jacket for a combat vest, then spent time adjusting his tie to make it sit right on the bulky, bullet-proof vest.

"Testing... all units, status report."

"Observer 2, blind and holding position."

"Advance 2, holding position."

"Advance 3, holding position."

"uhhhh... PIE team, full retreat."

"Ok, I am going in," Virgil pushed into the museum, tranquilizer ready.

[T-Dawg]

"What for do you wish his location? What for Lord Traken?" Shadowstar spake into the mist.

"Let us see the might of the Cradle then, let us feel the power that you now weild."

Which was the more insane Shadowstar had to wonder, him or Traken. Which of them would fire first.

[Traken]

"My desire for his location is none of your concern." Traken spat. "Your survival, is. Now let us dispense with the pleasantries. Give me his location, and then I will be on my way."

[T-Dawg]

"you find solistus where ever you thence travel. He shall follow you everywhere now. the source is him and he is the source. without his physical shell, he can only whisper to those who desire to hear."

The calm giving way to excitement.

"You shall not hear the whispers for the void, unless you proclaim unto me your intentions thus far and into the future hither. I am his gaurdian now, the Great Solarian, my mentor thus, shall not bare witness unto you, Prexis Touched, unless it is of my concern. My existance shall be for naught if my lord mentor can not be protected in such his state."

Shadowstar smiled again, "And if you think yourself skilled enough to reckon the powers of the source and listen to the whispers flowing forth from the great tongue of the Solarian, than I pray thee, try, and try again. And whilst you may have power unmatched, my skill has been honed, and my erratic nature nutured into a culling, that vast exceeds even your knowledge of these matters. That gauntlet..."

Shadowstar turned back down to the darken symbol of curled black, the razors of the tips ready to tear a man into two, "that gauntlet, the symbol as I know it of avarice, shows no means of subtle tack nor of talent. Lord Traken, it is through me that you may yet meet the entity thoust seek, state your will, and may I see it worthy to fulfill it, than perhaps I shall."

[Traken]

Traken smirked. "Solistus needs no guardian. Especially a mage who cannot even synchronize himself with the Source. And you've no desire to see my 'talent.'" He snorted.

"Very well. About six months ago, Solistus and I were working together on a project that you need know nothing about. I watched him fall. But he did not die. I know that for a fact." The black wisps around his fingers darkened and began to spin faster. "I must know where is is. NOW!"

[SterlingRat]

Virgil stepped across the foyer of the museum, wondering if he could actually capture anyone and turn this fiasco into a salvagable situation. He sent up a silent prayer that the two mages were really gone, that he would not have to stand against one of them.

Creeping along silently (which is more difficult than it seems when visibility is so bad you can't see your feet) he strained to hear any other noise, possibly giving him a direction to his Radical prey. Sight would not help, since the debris and dust in the air limited visibility, so he removed his helmet and tried to locate his prey by sound alone.

Minutes crept by, and still the dust had not settled.... some residual other-worldly magic kept it afloat. Finally, off to his right, Virgil was rewarded with a sound. Creeping in that direction, Virgil steadied his aim and calmed his breathing, hoping to remain silent as he approached the source of the noise. As he strained his ears, trying to hear anything past the excited beat of his own heart in his ears, he did not notice as he stepped on some broken glass from an old museum display.

The sharp crack of the glass sounded as loug as a gunshot in the silent museum, but the noise that followed was music to his ears. A nervous whisper in the direction he was headed.

"Shadow, thay you, man? It's me, Reda. Can you do something about this dust? I can't see a damn thing."

"No, Reda, if that was Shadow, we would have the headache...."

So much for pretending to be thier friend... oh well, thought Virgil, I could never do voices anyway. Aiming carefully towards the noise, Virgil steadied and fired twice. Two sounds answered, one of a body hitting the floor... and the sound of angry gunfire splitting the air to his left.

Virgil fought the fear and natural instinct to run, realizing that he would make noise and become an easier target. The echos inside the building made it impossible to tell the direction of the gunfire.

"Drop your weapons! The building is surrounded and your mage friend is gone, you will be given one chance to surrender yourself to the proper authority of the Party. Drop your weapons, get on your knees and lace your fingers behind your head. You will not recieve another warning."

There was a short pause, followed by the sound of a gun hitting the floor. About 13 to 15 yards in front of him, right next to the other Radical. Walking cautiosly forward, Virgil located the radical. On her knees, with her hands behind her head. At the first sight of her, Virgil lamented the fact that she was a radical. If the party had women with the kind of strength and dedication he saw reflected in her eyes, he would be a much happier man. Unfortunately, in noticing her physical appearance, he did not notice her hand emerging from behind her head. He did notice, however, when she fired her concealed pistol at point-blank range into his chest.

Virgil stumbled backward, thankful that his vest was on. It did not feel as though the bullet had penetrated. However, in stumbling backward, he tripped over something on the ground and fell on his back. Looking at what he tripped over, he realized one of his worst fears. He was caught, yet again, in the black, soulless eyes of the mage-killer.

[Holjfie]

OOC: Yeah, I don't know how I'm gona get in this.

[Graeme]

(OOC: Ditto what Traken said. For now I'm just going to get myself into the city, next post I'll get myself into the story.)

Christian stepped off the platform, waving his hands around frantically, "You said this train was going to Yellowknife . . . So how the hell did we end up here?! I mean . . . I could understand if it was a city or two off, but we're a few thousand kilometers off!"

The conductor backed off, looking rather worried, "Well, sir, I said I thought . . .". He trailed off, while straightening his tie.

Chris turned around and shook his head, "I should've known something was wrong when I saw that sign." Christian sneered with a high pitched voice, "Now entering Chicago. Population . . . Ah screw it, I don't even remember the population anymore."

A hulking man, standing directly behind Chris interrupted, "Oi, wel' Chris, 'tis nay his faul'. He's jus' doin his job. Let the wee man be."

Chris turned around, pointing his finger in Stuart's face, "Hey! You're right! Let's go!". The tension of the moment seemed to dissipate.

Christian motioned to Stu to grab the luggage as he walked away from the train platform. He briskly walked away from the station, still dressed in his suave gentleman's suit. He wore a baby blue tuxedo, with white cufletts, and a baby blue top hat. His cane looked like it was made of gold, but it was really just a cheap knock-off. Chris would never tell anyone though. He had to keep the image.

As Chris exited the building, he glanced at his surroundings. Despite the destruction that ran rampant in other parts of Chicago, this part of the city looked rather nice. Chris smiled, and turned around to Stuart.

"So Stuart, since we're here, we may as well go sight-seeing until the next train arrives. Where do you want to go?"

Stuart glanced up, still juggling the large crates of luggage, "Aye mate, well, 'ow 'bout we git rid of y'ur luggage first?"

Christian looked somewhat disappointed, "So . . . we could visit anywhere in Chicago, and the first thing you want to do is head to a storage locker? I mean . . . sure, but how about we have some fun first?"

Stuart laughed, "Well, it's a wee bit hard to 'ave fun when y'ur carryin' all this stuff."

Chris nodded, "Ah yes, you have a point! To the nearest Party Headquarters!"

-----------------------------------6 hours later----------------------------

Stuart looked completely exhausted, "You 'ave no clue w'ere y'ur goin' do yah?"

Chris turned around and smiled, "Not in the slightest my friend, not in the slightest."

-------------------------------Three more hours------------------------

Chris hopped up the steps that lead to a monstrous looking building. The building looked to be made primarily of marble, and was seemingly untouched by the war that had sprung up around it. Two guards stood outside the building, wearing Party insignias. Giant lion statues made primarily of granite lay on either side of the steps, and a large angel-like figure emerged from the roof of the building itself. Chris wondered how the building managed to remain so untouched, but the thought left his mind almost as quickly as it had entered.

Chris approached one of the guards, "Hey chief, how's it going?"

The guard didn't move.

Chris continued, "Ah, so you're one of those chaps that doesn't move or talk or anything, eh?"

The guard didn't flinch.

Chris gave up, "So that's how it is! FINE! I DON'T WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND!"

Chris stormed into the building and Stuart followed, still carrying the numerous pieces of luggage. Chris walked up to the front desk, and stared at the guard at a desk. The guard was wearing a peculiar uniform: A pink dress, a lime green fanny pack and a grotesque peacock-feather covered hat.

The guard glanced up, "Don't ask . . . Well, I lost a bet . . . Anyway, what's your business here, sir?"

Christian smiled, "Hey! You talk! Excellent. Alright, well, who's in charge here? Take me to the person that's in charge, just tell him Christian Brighton needs to have a talk with him about storing some stuff.", he motioned back to Stu, who was now sitting down on one of the benches.

The guard looked astonished, "Wait . . . you're THE Christian? I thought that was just a fairytale that mothers told their children! One minute sir!"

The guard picked up the phone and began dialing numbers excitedly. Chris walked back towards Stuart and looked him over twice, "Stu, you're looking exhausted, what happened?"

Stuart frowned, "Unnghggghhhhh . . . . "

Chris was about to respond, when he was interrupted by the guard at the desk, "Sir, General Mikey says you're supposed to be up north. What are you doing here?"

Chris began an ostentatious reenactment of his troubles up to this point. After his twenty minute tale, he queried, "So, err, can I have a chat with Mikey?"

The guard, completely exhausted from Chris' long and winding tale responded, "Please . . . please do. You can head up to the second floor, third door in on the left hand side. Oh, and the elevator's out of service, so you'll have to use the stairs."

A smile widened on Christian's face, "Excellent! Stu, let's go, don't forget the luggage!"

[SterlingRat]

(OOC: Hey Hjolfie, I saw that your character is a sniper, affiliated with the Party. I am also Party, and there happens to be a sniper on my team (so far, only referred to as Sniper 2... sniper one was killed). My background is as a Party Inteligence Enclave (PIE) operative, we were on a inteligence gathering mission and our mole was killed (read the previous posts.)

Sniper 2 (should you choose to take up that role) is currently positioned in a nearby building watching the action.... Observer 2 is with you, marking targets. I have already given the OK to fire, so feel free to fire away.

My character is not normally an officer, he just happens to be in charge of this mission because it was initiated by PIE, not regular party millitary, with the millitary units on loan for this mission only. Since this mission is turning into a high-cost, low-reward kind of operation, I doubt I will be given command of another operation in the near future. Feel free to join my group, and don't worry about taking some initiative and issuing some orders to the millitary units we have here... my character has removed his radio and is unable to give/recieve orders right now (I was tracking our Radical prey by sound, since visibility is nill within the Museum.) )

[Holjfie]

Leto lay there, prone, watching the action through a crack. He turned his attention to the museum, and said to the observer "I'm gonna fire a few shots into the building, tell me if anything moves"

Leto aimed, and fired around one window, making holes large enough to eventually screw over the wall and make the windowpane fall. A hole was made. Leto then reloaded, and fired again. He had grown accustomed to the recoil as it bit into his shoulder.

[Mechsaurian]

(This is my first time playing. This is gonna be so fun!)

Alturos creeped silently around the block where the museum resided. He had heard gunshots a moment before when he was going to buy a six-pack; he knew the only conflict these days was between Party and Radicals. He decided to check it out to see if there were some Party he might be able to kill.

He saw armed men near the museum's entrance. Listening silently, he overheard:

"Keep a look out for any funny guys. If our snipers die, that mage could get away."

Knowing a military operation when he saw one, Alturos calmly walked up and asked:

"Say, do you men know what's going on?"

The guards exchanged a look of puzzled amazement. Unfortunately, they raised their guns.

Alturos didn't like being confronted by a well-maintained Desert Eagle and an Uzi.

"I'm sorry. Perhaps I should cut to the point; are you guys Party or Radical?"

The guards remained silent and the one with the Desert Eagle cocked the hammer back.

"No answer? Well then I'm afraid I'll havbe to kill you either way."

With that, Alturos drew his favored Glock pistol and jumped aside of the trio of bullets from the muzzle of the Desert Eagle. He quickly put a bullet into the eye of the Eagle-weilding guard; and another into the chest of the man with the Uzi.

"This will be... Interesting..." Commented Alturos unneccessarily as he walked into the museum's lobby.

[Solistus]

OOC- I see I chose a good time to enter the storyline again, yes?

Solistus felt himself echo through the Source without beginning or end. At this moment, he touched the Source in its entirety, felt the basking light. Finally, the Solarian had broken the seal of the world, and reunited with Eternity....

NO! Solistus forced his conscious mind to the forefront, pulling himself away from the Source. It pained him to his core to do so, and he felt as though he would surely destroy himself in the process.

No. My time is not yet complete. I have more to do, so much more. The Source is in danger, and I must protect it.

With great difficulty, Solistus tried to recover that which he was. He remembered the Weave of Rebirth, and found the world he had once called home. It was torn asunder, and held only barely to the fabric of the Source; time was running out.

He realised as he began the Weave that he never would have been able to return in his former state. This Universe was beyond repair, and it would take the combined might of the Council to remove it safely, lest it tear the Source apart altogether.

Now, however, it was a simple matter to follow the narrow, polluted stream of the Source into this world. Before he knew it, he felt himself back in a physical form- the same, he noted, as before. He recognised the patterns in front of him as those of Traken and the one who called him "the Great Solarian." Shadowstar, was it? Yes, Shadowstar.

"Greetings, gentlemen. I trust you've carried on well enough in my absence? Fill me in on every detail."

[T-Dawg]

Shadowstar stared hard at the glory of the returned Solistus, the Great Solarian.

"What is this? Hm? A mage council in the dankest most rank of all sewers?" Shadowstar swallowed hard, "I mean, all we need is Prexis, and this gathering would be nigh complete."

"So there, Lord Traken, what have you? What is this business you need to discuss?" Shadowstar smiled again at the Prexis-Touched, "Whilst thou speak now? Speak now, oh cursed one, who thou'st use that black glove of apocalypse."

Shadowstar knew that these three better hurry, the sheer energy in this area must have been enormous, especially with the physical manifestation of Solistus, surely, Lord Prexis must have noticed such a large disturbence in the Source.

[Traken]

Traken looked hard at Shadowstar. "You are hardly one to speak, defect, about being cursed. For you too, are touched by Prexis."

He turned to Solistus. "I see you made it back in one piece," Traken said, smirking. "It is good to see you again. We have much to discuss, but this may not be the best area." Traken stopped for a moment, in though. "Though, I do not control any of the Party forces in this region. Perhaps we should convince them otherwise."

[SterlingRat]

Virgil felt a wave of relief as he realized that Mage-Killer was well and truly dead, and those eyes had lost thier strange powers. His reflief was replaced by disgust when he realized he was lying in the mysterious man's blood... if he didn't move soon, his shirt would be ruined. Some inner voice told him not to move yet, though.

His patience paid off moments later, as the Radical woman who shot him limped past, burdoned by the weight of her companion as she tried to carry his unconcious body to thier escape. This is too easy, Virgil thought as he chambered another tranquilizer round. The Radical was absorbed in trying to move her companion and never noticed him lying on the ground... that, or she incorrectly assumed he was dead.

A sharp crack sounded through the museum, and the Radical turned in the direction of the noise, assuming it to be another party mamber in the building. Virgil recognized it as a sniper round, and hoped Sniper 2 would not mistake him for a Radical... fortunately, it distracted the woman long enough for Virgil to aim hit tranq, and put the dart clean into her neck.

Rolling out of the blood and climbing to his feet, Virgil put his helmet back on and adjusted his radio, thankful that this mission was not a complete loss. Having two prisoners to interrogate was always preferable to one, since it allowed a comparison of stories and made it easier to detect any possible deception. Hopefully they would give up thier information easily and quickly, so they could be moved on to one of the re-educational camps soon.

"Advance 2, I need four men in here, stat. Two prisoners, unconcious, to be removed. Take them to thier former hideout and keep them in seperate rooms for interrogation. All units, our first objective is complete, all Radical forces are now considered expendable. Shoot to kill."

Confirmation came over his headset as the four men from Advance team 2 entered the building with as much tact as a charging rhino.

[T-Dawg]

Shadowstar now quite asserted by the presence of his revived mentor, turned his main attention, not to the powers that were accumulating in front of him, but the dangerous powers that were closing in on their location.

"It is time for us to leave this place, Prexis turns his eye this way." Shadowstar managed to whisper.

[Traken]

Traken had been scanning frequencies on his earpiece as he normally did, when he stumbled on the last chunk of what sounded like an order. "...considered expendable. Shoot to kill." He heard a couple voices acknoledge the order before his radio jumped to a new frequency again. Toggling his radio back, he noted the frequency. It was Party, but not that of a normal assault team. Traken searched his memory. A special ops team, perhaps? Or maybe PIE? Whatever...

Traken turned to his two 'companions.' "Our guests are definitely Party. Perhaps we should wait for them. We may be able to 'convince' them to join our cause," said Traken, grinning.

[Graeme]

Christian walked down an elegantly decorated hall, in a rather nonchalant manner, as Stuart came charging down the hall behind him. The giant of a man seemed distressed, as if he was about to give away to the weight of the numerous packages tied onto his back. He started swirving left, and then right, knocking into the walls at his side. In a desperate attempt to balance himself, Stuart hopped forward.

Christian turned around, somewhat annoyed, "Stu, can you please keep it down, we are guestsss, aarghhh!"

As Stu attempted to catch himself from the hop, he lost his footing and fell forward toward Chris. Chris, with great ease, sidestepped away from Stu, swiftly hopped around behind him, and grabbed Stuart's backpack. Chris spun around Stu's body, and grabbed every parcel of falling luggage in his left hand, and helped hold Stuart steady with the other. As soon as Chris finished his rather ostentatious performance, he returned to his suave walk down the hall.

"Come on Stu, no time to lose!", yelled Chris, as he tossed the luggage back at Stuart.

Christian rounded the corner and approached a rather small looking, gray, plastic door that had a note scribbled on the door, captioned:

General Mikey!

Chris looked back at Stuart, "Well . . . this looks rather promising, wouldn't you say?"

Stuart chuckled, "Yah sure we 'er in the righ' place, Chris?"

Christian ducked his head, and took off his baby blue hat as he walked sheepishly through the door, "General Mikey, you here?"

Christian walked a bit further into the room examining his surroundings. One small window was situated at the far end of the room, but it was covered with a black curtain. Incandescent lights dimly lit the room, giving the room a very eerie glow about it. In a chair by the window sat a young man, probably in his thirties. The brown haired man had giant horn-rimmed glasses that took up much of his face.

The man identified himself, "I am the general, now who may you be?"

Chris threw his hand toward Mike, and gave Mikey a stiff handshake, "Christian Brighton, you may have heard of me before". Chris pulled his hand back and brushed his hair lightly.

Mikey retorted, "Ah, the great Christian Brighton, I've heard quite a bit about you in storytales. To tell you the truth, I don't believe a bit of it!"

Chris jumped back, he was completely shocked, "Wha . . . Well . . . Hey, that . . . This is quite unaccountable! Very well, I shall prove to you that I am THE Christian Brighton you have heard so much about! Ask any one thing of me, anything at all, and I will complete your task in half the time that you set!"

A smile widened on Mike's face, "Hmm, ONE thing you say? How about a coffee . . . no, no, too easy. Hmm, get me a three-headed frog! No . . . no, I have a much more useful task for you! Christian Brighton! I have come to my decision!"

Chris looked eager, "Yes . . . "

Mike started off, "You will go to Old Chicago."

Chris nodded, "Done!"

Mike sighed, "No, no, that's not all."

Chris stroked his chin, "Hmm, but how will I know when you're done your request if you keep taking these long pauses in between speech?"

Mike seemed somewhat annoyed, "I'll tell you when I'm done. Ok?"

"Erm . . . what will you say when you're done, just so I'm sure."

Mike ruffled his hair slightly, "Ok . . .well, when I say the word . . . hmmm, 'produce', you'll know I'm done."

Chris scratched the back of his head, "Now, by produce, do you mean produce . . . vegetables and fruits? Or do you mean produce . . . like, to bring forth?"

Mike hung his head slightly, "Does it really matter? Now, let's see. Here is your mission, if you choose to accept it:
I have a PIE team currently working on a mission to exterminate a Radical Mage. Now, listening to radio transmissions, they don't seem to be faring to well. I want you to go to Old Chicago, and salvage the mission. I want this mage in here, alive, ready for questioning within . . . Hmm, I'll give you a solid two weeks!"

Chris was staring off into space, while listening intently. He spoke softly, "and . . . ?"

Mike seemed confused, "That's it! We're done. That's the mission. Do you want it?"

Christian was getting rather flustered, "Annnddd? Listen, I'm not one to judge people, but you can't even remember a simple rule you said, seconds ago. Are you sure you're a proper gen. . ."

Mike yelled out, "Prexis, kill me now! PRODUCE! PRODUCE! PRODUCE YOU OLD FART!"

Christian seemed satisfied, "Yeah, I'll do it. Stuart, you can throw our stuff in here for now, I'm sure good old Mikey won't care."

--------------------------------Not long after that----------------------------------

Christian pulled up in his snazzy, Party-donated vehicle (well, to tell the truth it was really Mikey's car, but Chris was sure good old Mike wouldn't mind) a few buildings away from an Old Chicago Field Museum. The giant building seemed to have seen its share of action over the past few years, and appeared to be going through a bit of action right now. Christian twirled his fake-gold cane around, and placed the tip of it on the ground as he stepped out of the car. Stuart followed shortly after, still carrying one piece of luggage - the only piece of luggage with a living creature in it.

Christian stretched out his arms, and turned slightly to look at Stuart, "Ah, gotta love the fresh air, eh Stu?"

Stuart glanced up from the ground, "Oh, err, yeah! Thank Prexis I'm outta th'er stuffy car. Hey Stu, c'I le' tha dog out fe'r a walk. She's gettin' rilly anxious!"

Christian jumped at Stuart, grabbing his hand, "No no no! I mean, er, no. It wouldn't be right, we have to get working. Hey, pass me that radio thingie."

Stuart laughed, "I think i's called a Walkie Talkie, or som'thin' li' that.", he threw the walkie talkie in Chris' general direction.

Chris grabbed the radio with his left hand, while keeping his cane at his side with his right hand. He turned the nozzles a bit, smacked the radio a few times and yelled as loud as he could into it, "HEELLLOOO!!!! HI THERE! CHRISTIAN HERE!!! ANYONE HOME!? HELLO? DARNED THING, THEY SAID IT'D WORK!"

A voice resonated from the radio's speaker, "Roger, this is Steve from Advance 2, please stop yelling Christian, you're coming in nice and clear. Over"

Christian smiled, and turned around to Stu, "It works!". He put his mouth back on the walkie talkie, "Hi Steve, need any help?"

The voice crackled through the speaker once again, "Roger that Chris. What's your RyTy, and where's your FYMI? Over."

Christian looked extremely confused, "Say again?"

The speaker crackled, "Oh, you must be the new guy. You know, you should really know the basics on a radio. We can't just spell everything out verbatim all the time, it'd be too risky. Ah well, just this once. What Advance Squad are you in, and where are you currently situated? Over."

Christian was beginning to get the hang of this, "Roger that Rotoffle, how's about I ABG at the IRT, and we can meet in ERUH at IGK. Right now I'm in FDS at HGR. Over."

The voice took a second to respond, "Roger that. See you at 0400 at ERUH. Over."

Stuart tapped on Christian's shoulder, "So, Chris, what'd y'e just say?"

Christian turned off the radio and turned around, "No clue Stu, but it sounded good, didn't it?"

[Solistus]

"Careful, Traken. Don't forget, I'm here to keep you in line again." Solistus showed a hint of a smile. "That may be a far greater task than that of defeating Prexis, but one I'm equally prepared for.

"We must dispatch of this threat quickly, and begin to replan our attack on Prexis. Much has changed, friends. We have much to discuss."

[Traken]

Traken smiled as Solistus said dispatch, but quickly regained his composure.

"What do you have in mind?" Traken asked.

[Graeme]

(ooc: If everyone keeps making these two-liners, it'll be another week until I get enough content to do another 'real' post again ;).)

Christian walked hastily down the street toward the old, ruined, Field Museum. He had left Stuart, with the radio, back in the car - for fear of him getting hurt. Chris loved to have his lifelong friend at his side, and Stuart was mighty strong, but when it came to thinking under pressure, Stu had a way of messing things up. Chris knew that Stuart could easily take any regular Radical regular . . . but Chris also knew these weren't your average Radicals.

As Christian walked the last 100 metres to the Museum, he was stopped by a Party solider, "Excuse me sir, but we are conducting a . . . er, a uh . . . an experiment in the museum. I'm going to have to ask you to turn around, and head back the way you came. It could get mighty dangerous, and,", the soldier looked at Chris' strange, gentleman's attire, "I wouldn't want someone of your status to get hurt."

Christian chuckled lightly, "So, you think I will be hurt? You think these feeble soldiers could ever take . . . THE CHRISTIAN BRIGHTON!"

(This would be a good time to note that Chris, in no way, has ego problems. But after rigorous testing, he has found he gets the most results from people when he actually mentions his name. He also took some very primary acting courses, so he often waves his hands brilliantly when making reference to himself. This may not seem important now, but you'll understand why I brought this up in the near future - assuming you keep reading my posts.)

The soldier was shocked, "My, my, I hardly recognized you, but now that I look closely . . . yeah! Yeah! I can see it! You probably don't remember me, but . . . " , at this point the soldier breathed on his hand lightly, rubbed his shoulder even lighter, and continued his speech, "I saved your life."

Chris just about fell over, "You, err . . . you saved my life, eh? Well, what do you mean?"

The soldier continued, rather proud with himself, "Well . . . "

-----------------------------An Hour Passes-------------

Chris shuffled uneasily, "Hey, uhh, look. I'm sure you'll wrap this up sometime soon, but to tell you the truth, I should be going. I really would love to hear how a horse, a giant pumpkin and a parade are all connected with you saving my life, but really, I don't have the time. You know how things are, I mean, I'm a busy man. I'm sure you've had times when you've just really had to go before, yeah?"

The soldier winked, "Gotcha, the bathrooms are in the building over there". He lifted his hand and pointed across the street, toward the museum.

Chris looked confused for a second, "Uh . . . I'm not sure . . . Ah nevermind, I have to get in there anyway. Thanks a lot eh?"

The soldier looked up from the ground, where he had earlier been kicking a small, mishapen rock, "Oh, no problem, see you later bro!"

Chris was about to turn around, but decided against it. He questioned, under his breath, "Bro?"

[Solistus]

"Do you know what we are up against? If this is an individual- or a team sent by Prexis, I suppose we must eliminate whatever he has chosen to match against us. However, eliminating an irrelevant patrol group will do us no good. Which do you think it is?"

[SterlingRat]

Virgil silently cursed the radical mage... switching to French this time, having run out of English and Spanish curses. Cursing in French was unsatisfying since the dirtiest, meanest, filthiest thing you can call someone still sounds effeminate in French. Virgil decided, then and there, that he needed to learn German. German is truly the polar opposite of French... every word in German sounds vulgar.

Apparently, capturing these two was the easy part. It was proving somewhat less easy to get back out of the museum with his two prizes. Even unconscious, it seemed these two were fighting him every step of the way. The woman, despire her shapely appearance, seemed to weigh at least 300 pounds when he started to drag her, and she gains another 50 pounds every minute. As if that weren't bad enough, he twisted his bad knee when he fell, and the four men from Advance 2 had gotten distracted because some joker claiming to be Christian Brighton has showed up.

All we need now is for the Radical mage to show up again, thought Virgil, I can barely stand up straight, I had to sling my shotgun across my back to move these two, and my shirt is a mess. I would almost thank him just to show up at this point and put me out of my misery.

"Focus, people. We still have a job to complete. Advance 2, get off your butt and get some men in here. Observer, see if you can ID our new guest. Is there anyone with brains left on the PIE team or am I alone out here?"

And now to deal with the King of the Idiots, "Hauptman, get my other suit ready... do it now or I will make a suit out of your skin!"

"uhhh, sir? You have already used your second suit and you didn't bring a third," came Hauptman's nervous reply. Virgil was definitely going to have to kill him. Soon.

[Traken]

Traken turned towards Solistus.

"It's a team. I'm not sure how many, though. They appear to be using a rotating frequency system on their comms, and I'm not set up for it." Traken furrowed his brow in irritation. "I also don't know what Party force they are from. I'm leaning towards PIE, but I'm not sure. Either way, they should be no problem. They have no idea what they're getting themselved into," said Traken, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "So, shall we wait for them? Or meet them head on?"

[Graeme]

(OOC: I have to go to work in 14, so I'll just do a short one in case anyone wants to move on with the story a bit :D)

Christian lifted his mic off of his jacket slightly, and whispered into it, "Hey Stu, you still there?"

Stuart's voice blasted loudly into Chris' ear, "Oi, whattaya want?"

Chris threw the earpiece away, and whispered heatedly into his mic, "Ahh, Stu, keep it down! You just about blew my eardrum!". Chris then picked up the miniscule earpiece and placed it back on his ear, "Alright. The front doors of this place seem to be locked up tight, any idea how to get in?"

Stu replied quickly, "Aye, a sec' please." A minute passed, and the voice started out again, "Oi, Chris, 'ooks like yu'r gunnaha' to climb a wee bi'. Second floor, 'ere appears to be a wee air vent openin 'at you sh'ud be able to crawl through. Chris . . . you sure you know what y'ur gettin' into?"

Chris chuckled lightly, "I know EXACTLY what I'm getting myself into. Those crazy Radicals will have no idea what's happening! MUAHAHAHAHA!"

Stuart laughed slightly, "'ey, you know 'ow much I 'ate that evil laugh!"

Chris cut off the radio transmission, and began climbing up the side of the building. There was just enough footing to get off a good ten feet, but after that it seemed like an impossible task. The nearest foothold was a good twenty feet away, and even so, a large wall of thorns blocked his path. Chris fretted slightly, but then assured himself that he could do it, and set to work.

He leaped to the side, and grabbed a thorn branch, which pierced his hand in twenty-eight different spots. Chris didn't seem to notice the blood trickling down from his wrist though, and instead of crying out in pain, he just climbed the thorn wall with remarkable ease. He moved with such speed and grace, that one would assume he had made this climb thousands of times prior to this moment. This, however, was not the case, as we all know.

Chris was about to grab at the air vent, when he heard a voice from below, "You are hereby under arrest by the Party government for trespassing on private property. You have the right to re . . . erm . . . I actually don't remember the rest of this, so uhh, just play along and pretend I read you your rights, alright?"

Christian sighed, "Uhh . . . alright, uhm. Do you want me to get down . . . or?"

The man below pondered this for a second, "Yes . . . Yes, that sounds good. Get down immediately, or I will be forced to shoot! . . . How did that sound? This is my first day, and I was really trying to sound mean there."

Chris smiled, "Ah, it struck fear into my heart. You'll be a pro in no time."

Christian then proceeded to hop down the building, ledge by ledge. At the bottom he encountered a strangely dressed Party soldier, that wore a nametag bearing the writing, "Newbie of Advance 2". Christian put his hand out for a handshake, and was intead met with the party officier's handcuffs. Christian frowned slightly, and was about to speak when he was interrupted.

"Hahaha, you think you could fool us with your Christian Brighton impersonations. We all know Christian Brighton wore a red cape and blue tights!"

Christian sighed . . . "My God man, that was superman!"

The party soldier replied, "I don't want to hear another word of it!"

[Mechsaurian]

(you guys didn't mind the guard scene, right? I needed a story to work myself into, and this one seemed better. Hope no ones pissed off that I'm here.)

No sign of life greeted Alturos other than blood on the floor.

"There's been a fight here," Alturos said unneccessarily. Looking closely at the paintings and statues everywhere, he wasted time, hoping for a fight. Unfortunately, his wish came all too soon.

With a loud CRASH! one of the windows shattered, belching forth a black-clad man armed with an M16. Two more followed through. Alturos crouched quietly behind a statue, thinking to himself, 'what the hell are those guys? That certainly isn't standard Party attire!'

"Come on, there'll be tone of expensive stuff in here. Imagine the cash we'll get for robbin' this place!"

'Ahh. Theives. This shouldn't prove to be much of an obstacle.'

Alturos leapt out from his cover, Glock in hand. The theives trained their M16s on hime and squezed of a clip into Alturos' unarmored flesh.

"Ahh!" screamed Alturos as several slugs thudded into his stomach, shoulders, and left arm. Luckily, most of the shots missed him, but the pain and damage was intense enough to knock him out. His world turning black, Alturos slipped to his knees and thumped to the blood-stained carpet.

"Looks like we killed 'im. Grab anything that looks expensive and let's get the hell outta here!"

Stealing several pintings, small statues, and, of course, all the money from the register, the robbers left nothing but a shattered window as evidence.

Fate had not been kind to Alturos; laying unconscious and utterly vulnerable, it was certain that the Party soldiers prowling the museum and the sewers beneath would find him.

[Solistus]

Solistus gave Traken a slight grin.

"Perhaps it's because I'm not yet used to the corporeal world again, but I'm getting.... bored. Let's say we have a little... fun with these Party troops."

[T-Dawg]

Shadowstar shook his head, his hands twitching. Two clips wrangled free of the guns as he replaced them. He was figeting, "come on come on, lets get going then."

[madman5]

(OOC see Trials of Hatred to find out who Arcbourn is and why he came to Chicago) Arcbourn rode into town on his motorcycle. His thoughts were on his daughter as he fell to the ground in the presence of Shadowstar.

"What the hell?"

In Columbia Arcbourn had never known about Shadowstar and his power. He gathered his strength and picked his bike back up. He consentrated on his daughter and stoped himself from sensing the pain that Shadowstar brought to him. He lit his sword and killed the nearest Party soldier.

"Where is everyone?"

Silence. Ether they thought he was a Party or they where Party warriors.

"I'll just find-out the hard way."

Arcbourn walked out into the street and yelled

"Are any of you Party Soldiers?"

Some idiot said yes and was killed in a flash of light.

"Ok are you mages Party cause that would suck for me:smirk: "

[Traken]

(OOC: Madman, I guess I'm a little confused... Are you by Shadowstar, Solistus and Traken? If so, there are no Party soldiers for you to kill in the immediate vicinity, at least, not yet. Just kinda curious as to what's going on. :))

[SterlingRat]

(OOC: ok, the shit is currently headed towards the fan. it has not quite hit the fan, but it is definitely headed that way. in slow motion.)

Sometimes things just seem to be going your way. Virgil had personally captured and secured two dangerous Radical criminals (always a good career move). The Radical hideout they had assaulted had a shower facility (it's amazing how much blood there was). Hauptman had found the emergency suit, so a clean shirt and jacket were available (Hauptman lives another day). One of the patrols had found and arrested this Christian Brighton impersonator, and they were bringing him in (why anyone would impersonate someone with so much money on his head was anyone's guess, the guy is probably some loon).

Oh, and the mage-killer was definitely dead, leaving Virgil with no higher ranking officers on this mission. If he could just pull this off, Virgil would finally be noticed by PIE leadership. Things were definitely looking up.

Virgil went to look over the prisoners one more time, before waking them. One male and one female, both medium height, and the male had a heavy build. It would be fairly easy to create a disguise as the larger man. It was always easier to disguise a smaller person as a larger person than the other way around... the fact that the male had a large build meant it would be easier to find an undercover agent with a suitable body type, since just about anyone smaller could be padded to appear larger. Hopefully PIE headquarters would be able to provide a suitable agent quickly.

However, first thing that needed to happen was the interogation of the two radicals. Without knowing where the rest of the radicals were headed, having the perfect mole would do absolutely no good because they would not know where to put him or her. With two prisoners, the possibilities for interrogation were endless. Laying a decent groundwork was imperative, they had to be confronted quickly and broken before they had time to think. Virgil would have preferred some length of time to perform the interrogation but things don't always work out that way.

After some short deliberation, Virgil decided that the guy would be an easier mark than the girl. He looked tough, confident, and blustery... the kind of man that would take any pain or beating just to prove how tough he was. It was Virgil's experience that this kind of person also saw themselves as a protector, and that would make this too easy. What he would never reveal to save his own life, he will volunteer to protect the woman.

The woman would probably be a much tougher interogation. Most simple interogation methods would not work quickly enough (Virgil knew that his superiors at PIE would recommend torture, but he could not imagine giving that order). Hauptman was too incompetent to play good cop/bad cop, and most of the other PIE agents were dead or stupid. That left only one or two real options... and it was time to go with the easiest of them, simple bribery. Virgil took the stimulant from his medical bag and went to the woman's makeshift prison.

She was tied to a chair on the second floor of the old appartment building that was the temporary Party prison. Apparently someone in Advance 2 knew what they were doing, because her right arm had been tied seperately and tightly with a makeshift tourniquet. Virgil injected the stimulant into her arm, loosened the tourniquet, and pulled up a chair to wait for the drug to take effect.

[Mechsaurian]

"SHIT!" Alturos cried as pain flared about his torso. Waking up from his state of unconsciousness, he was rewarded with lances of pain from the bullets which had been embedded in his stomach. Trying to move his arms to prop himself up, he felt a similar stab of pain in his arms and shoulders.

"Damn, it's a wonder I even survived..."

Although there was no more blood then small small marks on his shirt and jacket (around the small holes, of course) he could feel the slugs when he tried to move around. Although it was a step up from total helplessness, Alturos simply couldn'y get up.

He ejected an empty clip from his Glock, and reached into his pocket to find that he was out of rounds.

"Perfect. That's all I need..."

Feeling velnerable somewhat, he used his mostly undamaged right arm to pull his machete out of the pocket for it sewn into the interior of his jacket. Using his intact legs to get up, he tried to go further into the museum but stumbled and fell after a few steps. Alturos felt like swearing until he was hoarse, but decided not to because it hurt even to breathe.

"I need to get out of here. This was a disaster. Screw whatever Radicals who may be here, I need to get some medical attention."

Alturos crawled towards the museum door, and when the pain was starting to turn to numbness, he stood up and toddled out, his every movement wracked with pain.

EDIT: (What the heck does "OOC" mean? I see more and more people using it lately.)

[Holjfie]

OOC= Out of context, even though I've seen it as out of character.

[T-Dawg]

Shadowstar continued his patient wait.

"come come Traken. This show needs to begin! Screw it, I'll just go, anyone want to follow me?"

Shadowstar continued down the sewer, his sight turned to a night vision green, the bionic implants from years ago began churning again, his muscles flexed, the speed of mechanical gears and grafts were powering themselves through the Cradle's energy.

Shadowstar wore an evil smile, he pulled out his sniper rifle, one that he hadn't touched in years, and walked. Step by step into the darkness.

"someone is gonna die tonight."

[madman5]

(OOC sry that i havent replied to ure ? Traken..... The Party soldiers are ones that are just then rushing to kill the mages(poor idiots:) )

[Mechsaurian]

OOC ( :) ) - Uhh, just wondering, SterlingRat's character is in a museum (where my character's little escapade took place) but T-dawg's is in a sewer. How are these locations connected, if they are even connected at all?

[SterlingRat]

(OOC: ok... lets see. We are in downtown Chicago, IL, around Michigan Avenue. The entire downtown area did not fare well in the recent war and cataclysm, and many of the old skyscrapers, appartment complexes, and municipal buildings have been abandoned. The Radicals were ussing an unmarked building as a hideout/safehouse here... The unmarked building was probably an office complex or an appartment building, I am not sure on that, but it has offices and several floors although it is not a skyscraper. The Party found out about this hideout, and sent in a numberically superior force (that's us) to infiltrate it... we plan to use the same theory that current DEA officers use. get someone inside, undercover in the small-timeradical movement, then have them climb the ladder from within the organization until they reach the head. However, the radical mage, Shadowstar, took out our mole, one of our snipers, our mage-killer, and an entire advance team. In the process of utterly decimating our forces, he left the Radical safe-house (by jumping out a window, landing in the middle of advance 1, and whooping ass) and took cover in a nearby abandoned museum. I believe he did this to draw party forces away from the safehouse, giving the rest of the radicals time to escape. It worked, party forces blocked and covered all surface exits to the safe-house while we attempted to deal with Shadowstar in the museum.

That is when we sent the mage-killer into the museum after Shadowstar. Assuming the Mage-killer would handle that problem, the one of the advanced teams and the PIE team entered the safe-house, only to discover it abandoned and ransacked. The radical forces had escaped thru a hidden sewer entrance beneath the safe-house. The PIE team attempted to continue pursuit, but set off a booby trap and lost most of it's strength and leadership... as well as collapsing that section of sewer.

I assume there is either another entrance to the sewers below the museum, or several of the radicals were not in the safe-house when we attacked... and therefore they did not all escape when the safe-house was cleared. Party forces have appropriated another nearby building.... (an old appartment complex) to hold the two prisoners because I do not want them kept in the former radcal safe house (the building is not yet 100% secure, in my opinion).

and that is about it. Shadowstar got 2 more extremely powerful mages fr help, and I got Christian Brighton. At this point I am just waiting for the mages to come spank us. )

[Mechsaurian]

Shadowstar got 2 more extremely powerful mages fr help, and I got Christian Brighton. At this point I am just waiting for the mages to come spank us.
OOC- probably a good thing my character left then, eh :) ?

[FeceMan]

Wow, you guys write on a whole different level than the people in the roleplay forum, especially the one I'm playing on right now.

I really have to congratulate you all for actually putting thought into your posts instead of "[character] healed his wounds and went back to training", and how you are actually working together to make a story.

Come to the Dawn of Civilization thread and see what I mean.

[FeceMan]

ROAR! Continue the story, for I command it!

[ShadowCrusader]

(OOC:Mind if I join then. I like evil as of late so why not join the Party. Once I recieve the go-ahead I will post. Character name shall be Dorzhe Paras.)

[Traken]

(OOC: Just post your character in the character creation thread. You'll be all good. If anything's odd with it, we'll let you know, but feel free to start up. :))

[Whiteknight]

(OOC: Eep, I'm so scared to post, now that I've read all of them and they are so good. Well... here goes. If anyone objects to how I introduce myself, just tell me and I'll fix it, and I have no clue what I'm going to do once I get to the building, being separated from everyone and all, and outside.)


The lights rattled as Dimitri slammed the door, cramming the two glocks into his coat pockets. Slamming his hands on his jeans to check if his Kris blades were in their holders, he rushed towards the dirty, old jeep.


"Why the hell did I miss the call, why?!" The Radical put the jeep into gear and sped off, dust rising from the tires. Building by building darted past and the red stick on the speedometer rose steadily. Smoke rose and tires screeched as the jeep careened around corners. A blur of red on the right seemingly appeared before Dimitri. He swung to the left and a sickening screech filled the air. The red stick dropped dramatically, but not fully. Dimitri had barely avoided a disaster that would have stopped him dead in his tracks and could have killed him, although he still scraped the side. Swears rang out through the air about ding in the jeep, but Dimitri would worry about it later.



Thirty daunting minutes later, Dimitri slid to a squealing halt in front of a building a block away from the Party members. He hurdled out the door of the jeep and revealed the hidden glocks, pointing them around him in case there was some resistance to his arrival. Sensing no immediate danger, he peeked around the building and observed the situation. It didn't look good--it seemed that the Party had surrounded the Radical building. Several Party men patrolled around 2 buildings.


Dimitri thought of his options. He knew he could take out a few men with his sniper, although that would reveal his whereabouts and the Party would be alerted to his presence.


(OOC: Hm... I don't think that was too good, but it wasn't bad, so it will have to do. If I got anything wrong, tell me. I spent some time today reading the posts so far, and although I read the BF posts, I've forgot them.)

[Dark_Soul74]

(OOC: Another newbie reporting for duty. :))

'John' sped on towards the city, and his only real memory. The flashback of the girl and his own amnesia haunt his mind, as well as the barren wasteland he drives through. The day is uneventful, and he sets up camp by a group of rocks, not bothering to make a fire. He awakens to the sound of the wind rustling the dusty ground. After a moment, he realizes that it isn't just wind... 'John' grabs his hand gun and backs up into a defensive position by the rocks, semi hidden by a small bush. He handles this remarkably well, and thinks that his past might have included military training. Two men with full camouflaged outfits and rifles step toward the motorbike he left by the side of the rock formation. "What's this?", one of the men whispered. "Must be one of those d***ed Radicals, so shut up and follow me", the apparently superior man stated firmly. They cock their guns and head around the rock, looking for any other trace of Radical existance. One starts climbing on top of the rocks, and 'John' huddles down to avoid being seen. The man walks by, apparently not seeing him in the pale light of the half moon. 'John' lets out a sigh of relief. "Must've moved on without the bike. I'll radio the captain.", the other man said, helping down his friend. 'John' feels something crawling up his leg, and looks back. "A scorpion!", 'John' thinks to himself, readying his gun to knock it off of him, but too late. The scorpion plunges its stinger into the threatening being, then scurries off. 'John' lets out a loud cry, stopping himself too late. "What the hell...?", one man exclaims as they both dash over to the rocks, and search through again. "You're coming with us now, Radical prick.", they say as they drag him away, the scorpion poison weakening him too much to fight back. "Yeehaw! We bagged us on o' them suckers! I smell a nice pay raise!". They take all of 'John's found possesions and load them into a military Jeep that they radio in. 'John' blacks out as the strap him into a back seat.

[ShadowCrusader]

Dorzhe now landed a little while away from the current Party site. "Another god damn officer who wouldn't do his damn job." he thought. Dorzhe Paras had arrived with his company. He had four Anti-mage officers at his disposal along with half a squad of men. He now drove down the highway coming to the Party forces.

Quickly showing his identification, he then preceded to the current op's leader, known to him as Virgil. He then quickly moved to talk to him. Upon seeing him, he put up a hand to show his rank which was above him.

"Mr. Virgil, to have me come here is both a blessing and a curse. To have two of our Mage-Killers dead is.. not pleasing, but on the up-side, we have two prisoners. Not a pleasant exchange. According to current information, I have also learned that you let the radical's escape. Most unfortunate. Do not fret. I have not come to kill you. Two of my mage-killers will accompany with the interrogation while my other two are going to find the mage. According to current reports posted by your men, the mages both died individually. Thus, these two mages will find and eliminate him together. Mr. Virgil, though you still run the show, I hold authority over you and at any time can take it from you. My men shall supplement your own and hopefully, we can get rid of these scum bags."

He turned and briskly walked out and started relaying the orders. His troops now at a brisk place doubled the patrols and called in every five minuetes. He then heard another prisoner was taken and moved to that building with two of his mage-killers. He nodded to the other two as the strike force moved to the museum.

[Ole-The-Murder]

OOC..Say hello....to Ole Murder!

To compensate for their mage killer losses, they sent OleMurder, they newest recruit, who planned to pursue the line of being an mage killer. Having just been assigned a mission, to join the strike force moving to the museum. Having arrived there, OleMurder asked for further orders:
"None yet, recruit, but you will search the area to see if you find any leads."...and so the carriere of Mage Killer OleMurder had started!

[Whiteknight]

(OOC: Erm, am I the only non-magical Radical here? BTW, Darksoul, paragraphs are your friend :))

Dimitri hand shaked as he grabbed the SIG Sniper Rifle from out of it's case.

"Not a good sign, you can't afford to miss any targets..." Dimitri was talking to himself. He always talked to himself in tense situations. This time, he kept his voice low, as there were many Party's around.

"Ah, finally. A suitable place." The rifle was put to rest on a small table. It was hidden behind a row of bushes, long unkempt. The rifle just barely peeked over, providing fair targeting while remaining somewhat hidden. Dimitri set himself up, laying flat down on the table, his legs dangling over the edge. Targets were everywhere, but most people were congregated around the museum. Dimitri lifted his head.

"Damn, they must have already contained our outpost. What else can go wrong today?" His eye lowered back to the targeting scope and he looked for potential, high-ranking targets. Two mage-killers were walking towards the museum.

"Shit... Shadowstar..." Dimitri targeted one of them, the older of the two. The tension of his finger on the trigger tightened. Checks went over in his mind. Wind was accounted for, as was distance. He seemed to be forgetting something, but the mage-killers were almost inside the building.

"Screw it, die you bastards!" The trigger was pulled and the bullet shot out of the barrel. The silencer took care of the noise and the bullet whistled through the air.

[Holjfie]

Leto lie there prone, looking around with his scope trying to find a target. By now, most of the enemies would probably be dead, and Leto would have no targets. Still, something inside him told him to move. Leto squelched it but felt oddly disturbed yet.

"You take this, I'm going to relocate and use my other rifle," Leto told the man next to him.
"It's easy, just aim through the scope, and brace yourself when you fire, otherwise the recoil will severely hurt your shoulder"

Without waiting for a response, Leto got up, his trenchcoat swaying as he hurredly ran and ducked at the same time, making his way through the building while assembling his second rifle.

Later, safely tucked into his window, he looked to the right and saw the guy that he told to man the big rifle focusing on the building in front of Leto, the museum. But Leto scanned all areas he could without being very visible, keeping alert for creeping enemies.

[Dark_Soul74]

(OOC: Bah, I'm not good at deciding where to start a new paragraph. Anyway, I'm going to let either some Radical saving the other Radicals, or anyone in the Party, do whatever to me, since I really don't want to do anything, other than this small scene of course.)

'John' wakes up. A bright light flares above him, focused on him. The rest of the room is veiled in shadows, as 'John' sits helpless, tied to the hard, wooden chair he is sitting in. The rough table in front of him gives a clue to his captor, a gloved fist, leading up to the silhouette of a man.

"Ah! I'm glad to see that you have awakened, Radical. I hope our hospitality to you is not disrespected", the man says to 'John'(in a quite unnerving tone), motioning towards a bandage and IV that trails to 'John's arm. 'John' only smirks, his hardened personality, of which he knows little of, showing itself openly. "Now then, tell us what your rebel groups are planning to do?", interrogates the man. Sorrow floods through 'John' as he remembers his amnesia(Hehe. Ironic...). "I...don't even know who I am, let alone these 'Radicals' you speak so much about.", he mumbles. "Don't worry about it, we'll let you rest, and in the morning, we'll find another way to get the answers. Don't you worry...", he trails off, ending with a laugh that further unnerved 'John', though it was thankfully cut short by the slamming of a door, and 'John' drifted back off into slumber, thinking.

[Whiteknight]

(OOC: Holjfie, nice to see you've returned to this after a month.

BTW, I need Ole, Shadow, or Sterling to decide what happens with my bullet. I'm not sure if I got Ole's post right, but I think I fired at the magekiller next to him. Can magekillers die with bullets?)

[Traken]

(OOC: Whitenight, as far as I'm concerned, no one here is a mage. That particular trait is currently restrained, at least for PC's. NPC's can be mages, I suppose, but try to not overdo it. Anyway, I suppose I should hop in and have some fun, no? ;))

Traken had watched Shadowstar run off, alone, out to 'hunt,' and decided that there was nothing more that he could possibly do in this sewer.

He decided that it was time to set up a base of operations in the Chicago area for the new order of the Party. Traken smiled at the thought of 'convincing' the local Party to join his cause.

So with a thought, Traken vanished in a blast of red light, and a swirl of black shadow.

--------------------------Topside-------------------------------

A brief flash of red that lit the area signalled Traken's return. As the surrounding black mist dissipated, he turned, a twinge in his mind drawing his eyes to rest on a few individuals approaching what appeared to be the makeshift Party installation.

As good a place as any to start, Traken thought to himself.

But what really caught his eye, were the two individuals that seemed to be acompanying the Party officer. Traken felt the energy that was being emitted from them.

"Mage killers," he said to himself under his breath. "Fun," he added, smiling, as he set out in that direction.

[Whiteknight]

(OOC: Traken, if no one here is a mage, then what are you, Solistus, and T-Dawg?)

[Ole-The-Murder]

(OOC: Ok, Whitenight, I will tell what happens with your bullet, then. I just need ta know, uh, what name is the magekiller behind me who you fired at? Virgil? And there was a officer..hmm..Dorzhe? Nevermind...is the sewer under the museum, yes?)

"There were coming shots from inside the museum."
Within seconds, beside OleMurder his companion-mage killer where shot in the left shoulder, and fell back, in the hands of Officer Dorzhe. I yelled, in panic: "Quickly, take cover! There are snipers.."

I rolled over the floor and took cover behind the wall, croaching with my wakashi blade.
I was fast and got away from the fireline, since I didn't have much bothering me, but Dorzhe had a wounded man to carry. Another shot got fired, and it almost hit Dorzhe who was on the ground dragging the wounded man out of the scene. Virgil, was the older magekillers name, I think.

Then there where silence.
Between us and them, it was. If they moved out to follow us, we whould ambush them.
If we moved front of the entrance to charge at them, we whould get shot to death.
"We have to get past those damn Radical snipers and whatever they are holding back from us!"
Dorzhe whispered quickly and quivering to me. Virgil was agoning in lesser pain, but was still conscious. It wasn't a big thing, just stinging a bit. And I? Planned to execute my master plan...

[Traken]

Traken watched as the frontmost mage killer was spun around by a bullet in the shoulder and inwardly laughed. Can't even stop a bullet, eh?

Paying the Radical sniper no attention, Traken continued to make his way to the door. He was now within 100 feet of the entrance.

[Dark_Soul74]

The door broke down. Troopers rushed in as two people rushed to protect their child. 'John' watches helplessly, no sound coming to him. They try to escape, running to the back door. It isn't enough, though. More troopers rush in through the back, gunfire destroying what they cherish. The walls riddled with holes, they are gunned down, barely protecting thier boy, whom is taken away. 'John' can do nothing to save them, nothing to help, he feels so...distant, as though being pulled away. A scream pierces the crisp night air, burning through to 'John's soul. They burn the house, and 'John' feels sadness overwhelming him. The flames dance in the sky of the new moon, the house burning down to ashes. To ashes...

'John' bolts awake. "What happened? Was it just a dream...or a memory?" he thinks, thoughts rushing through his mind, the images still fresh in his head. He barely drifts back to sleep.(Bored and waiting for someone to do something so that I don't need to make more filler :))

[Ole-The-Murder]

(OOC: Traken, 100 feets from the entrance from outside or from inside? Are you coming to our aid, if so... Tell me when you reach us; so I can plot in how you recklessly charge the museum and gets shot by the radical sniper)

[Whiteknight]

(OOC: Ole, the mage-killer beside you is a NPC. Virgil is walking towards the building with the 2 captors. Also, the shots are not coming from the museum. They are coming about a block away from the museum, beside a house. I'm just on a table that just barely peeks above a bushline. Although, I am more beside the museum than where the people are. So, I'm shooting sideways-forward. Just to let you know.

There are only 2 mage-killers walking towards the entrance, with a few guards around, as said in ShadowCrusader's post.)

Traken, I still need to know what you and Solistus, etc, are. Ole, I don't think he can be hit by a bullet, unless surprised. He already knows of the sniper, so he will be on the lookout. Am I wrong, Traken?)

Dimitri watched as the mage-killer swung around, with blood spewing onto the other mage-killer there. He silently celebrated. He knew he was lucky to get a mage-killer, and only surprise would let you have a chance. He switched targets to the men walking towards the other building, knowing that trying for more mage-killers would be useless.

Four guards surrounded a high-ranking official. Dimitri set his sights on the official. His finger tightened as he remembered his checks.

'Did I account for wi...' he was thinking, then realized that the man was almost in the building. He had to hope it was good. His finger pulled back, putting the amount of pounds required on the trigger. The bullet flew through the air, missing it's target, but catching a guard in his back. Blood splattered onto the running official.

"Shit, I missed..." Dimitri cursed. More important problems came, though. Dimitri looked through the sights at the official. He was just into the building when he looked back. His eyes focussed onto Dimitri. The man pulled out a radio and stepped into the building.

"Damn... I gotta get moving, or else I'm dead. I must help our men in the museum," Dimitri whispered to himself, disassembling his rifle as he rushed towards the black jeep. Dimitri flung the gun into the back as his foot stomped the pedal. Dust flew up behind the tires.

[Holjfie]

Leto saw a flash of light come from a window, and took aim. Unfortunately, the man who Leto told to man the other sniper rifle aimed and shot repeatedly first, hitting the walls and created lots of dust. This impaired Leto's vision, but since the other rifle was so powerful it might have hit the enemy.

The other sniper, following what Leto said to do, fired repeatedly at the window. He decided to make a hole like Leto did to the museum.

[Graeme]

(OOC: Hey everyone. /me waves. It's been a while, as I've been ridiculously busy with school, work, play, band and whatnot. I suppose I should update what is happening with Christian though ^_^. First, I'll answer a few questions:

The sewers people were inquiring about earlier are in fact directly connected to the museum. This was established almost a year ago though, so I wouldn't expect people to know that :p.

Ole-The-Murderer has placed his character as one of the Mage Killers, so that one is no longer a NPC. However, the second one is still a NPC. His character is the one that got knicked off the shoulder, which is believable. Not everyone can dodge bullets ;).

*Solistus is Solarian, which is an entirely different race. They were the ones to first bring Magick to Earth, and train others in Magick.
*Traken is a human with extraordinary abilities. His abilities were weak at first, and usually triggered pain, but he has learned to hone his magickal skills. With assistance from the Cradle of Souls, he's now a very powerful magick user.
*Lastly, T-Dawg was trained by Solistus way, way back in the day, and although he is incredibly powerful, his control over magick can sometimes become unstable. This results in catastrophic events, which is why he has attained the nickname: Insanity Mage.

So yes, Solistus and T-Dawg, two of the Radical players in the game are in fact magick users. Traken is a . . . let's say reformed Party member. He's trying to create a second Party, that will hopefully take out Prexis' Party. At this point in time, you may be the only non-magick Radical, but I assure you there will be more soon enough.)

--------------------------------Actual storyline starts here for you lazy folk--------------------------------

Christian slumped in the back of the Party vehicle and sighed. He spoke under his breath, "Honestly . . . a fake?! Me . . A FAKE!? Hey, I wonder what Stu is up to right about now. . . "

(At this point I was thinking about zipping over to Stuart, and writing a two page description on what Stuart is up to, but I realized that might be a bit boring. To tell you the truth, Stuart isn't doing anything plot-changing, character-developing, or anything of that sort. You see, Stuart lives a pretty boring life without Christian around. One might say that Stu relies on Christian for excitement, adventure and whatnot. This moment in time is no different than any other - Stuart is doing very little, just trying to pass the time.

In fact, Stu is sitting in the same position he was when I left him, except now he has a tasty sub, a few cookies, and a pop - Now you're probably wondering, "Wait a bit, where the hell would he find a pop in Chicago?! I thought Chicago was, for the most part, in ruins! What madman would open a convenience store that sells pop in such a place!?"

My answer to which, "The only person mad enough to open a convenience store in the ruins of doomed city is a friendly little Korean guy named Jay. It's probably in your best interest to note that Jay isn't in fact the man's name, but a name he adopted so people wouldn't have to attempt to pronounce 'Tschong Whangbo'. )

Christian glanced out the window, still rather melancholy from the incident that had occurred earlier. He jingled his handcuffs a bit, and realized they made a rather neat sound. He shook his hands some more, now to the beat of 'War - Low Rider'. The person in the front of the Party vehicle began to take notice of the music, and nodded his head back and forth to rhythm. Almost in a daze, the driver of the vehicle let down the window of the vehicle, and let the beat resonate through the streets.

Immediately a Party Officer approached the vehicle, "Are you mad!? Put that window back up! Someone might take a shot at you, or worse, the prisoner!". The officer glanced into the vehicle and looked at Chris, who had ceased his jingling. The officer looked stunned, "Has anyone ever told you that you look remarkably like Christian Brighton?"

Chris glanced up and smiled, "Never."

As the officer began to walk away from the vehicle, two gunshots echoed through the streets. Christian looked out the window, and saw one man holding his shoulder, and another lying unconcious on the ground. Chris smirked, hoping that this may be his opportunity.

"Hey, you know. . .", Chris leaned towards the driver, "You're going to need my help soon enough. The Radicals won't give up that easily, as you can see. Why not just undo these handcuffs, and I'll go out there and see what I can do?"

The driver looked around and chuckled, "Not a chance. Hey, how about you help pass some time and jingle those", he pointed toward the handcuffs, "again?"

Chris breathed deeply, thought about the situation for a second, and then began moving the handcuffs to the beat of that Goldfish cracker commericial that he had seen so long ago.

[Whiteknight]

(OOC: I'm the only non-magickal Radical. :(. Too bad I couldn't be a mage. I'd be able to write a lot more interestingly and descriptively like that. Oh well, maybe when I'm a bit more developed and later...

BTW, Radlin, I think I've figured out your character. Probably. Maybe. Possibly. Maybe not....

Okay, I don't really know where to take my jeep. I floored it and can drive somewhere. But where? No Radicals here besides me. We need to get some people back from BF to come play this. I at least need to meet up with someone who is on my side, Shadowstar/T-Dawg. Any ideas?)

[Dark_Soul74]

(OOC: *cough*

'John' sure does like his nice, probably undefended bunker. Nice low security level due to non priority possible source of information located inside. Too bad most of the soldiers are out fighting the Radicals and the one guard that was here went for coffee. Woe is me. ;))

[Whiteknight]

(OOC: lol, DS. Fine, I'll come rescue you. Where are you exactly? I need a plausible explanation on how to find you.)

[Dark_Soul74]

(OOC: Just come under fire, and drive into a random bunker type area near you.)

[Whiteknight]

(OOC: That's not a bad explanation, but there would have to be no guards, otherwise I wouldn't jump into that bunker (would you jump into a guarded bunker?). I'll think up something tomorrow, or maybe today.

[Traken]

(OOC: Thanks, Rad, for taking care of that description. I've been kinda busy tonight. It pretty much nails me down. For more info, you can read my post in the character creation thread.

Ole, I'm 100 feet away, on the outside of the building, approaching the entrance. As far as helping goes, it's iffy. I hate the Radicals, but I'm technically against the standard Party, in that they support Prexis and I don't. So basically, most Party people know who I am, and know that I'm an enemy and will try to take me out. There's a decent reward out. But bear in mind, as Radlin pointed out, I'm a mage, and not a weak one, so taking me out may be more than most bargain for.

Whiteknight, not all mage killers are mages, themselves. Some are just humans trained in the art of fighting mages. And on top of that, stopping a bullet is no easy task. Once mastered, it becomes as easy as any other skill they have, but until then, many mages will just choose to dodge the bullets. [note: Traken will just stop them. He's more of a brute force kind of guy. ;)]
)

[Whiteknight]

(OOC: I knew that mage-killers were not mages themselves, but I thought they had some powers because of some early posts... Oh well. Thanks for clearing all that up Radlin and Traken. I'll post a rescue tomorrow, but we need some more people for this PvR)

[SterlingRat]

(OOC: Woah! looks like this picked up again. damn... wish I had seen all this yesterday. Uhmmm explanations first.

The 'Mage-killer' I put into the game early on was specifically to even the field between myself and Shadowstar. It would not be a very interesting story for either of us to put Shadowstar up against three party assault teams, which he would simply rip apart with magic while we made small pitiful helpless noises... and occasionally screamed. Introducing the mage-killer let him write an entire one-on-one battle in which he dealt with a single threat while I moved on to my goals... capturing a live radical. Now we seem to have multiplied our mage-killers and no one but Shadowstar knows who they are or what their powers are.

With that in mind, lets make our mage-killers somewhat similar. lets stick to this basic concept...

To put it simply, they are not mages and they are not PC's... they are twisted, soulless products of Prexis's dark magic, designed to hunt and kill all mages that Prexis does not control. They operate outside party channels and do not answer to any authority other than Prexis, acting as magical extentions of his dark will. His eyes, ears, and hands in the world, so to speak.

Prexis's magic can corrupt the purest of souls to his dark designs, and he enjoys excercising that kind of power. Most mage-killers were once high idealists, either true radical patriots that believed in the cause, or ... as was the case with the killer from earlier in this story ... clergy with radical tendencies. Though thier mind and soul now belong to Prexis, they retain some motivation of thier former calling, like a former priest trying to 'save' Shadowstar by killing him or a former radical using his old friends and contacts to get close enough to kill his target.

Does this sound OK to everyone, so we do not end up with 10 different versions of mage-killers running around?)

"I answer to the Party Inteligence Enclave, not to Party millitary. You may take command of the party millitary forces here, but I still comand the PIE team," Virgil turned his back, holding on to his anger and trying to ignore the small voice whispering Bye-bye career inside his head. "And these are PIE prisoners, you may interrogate them when I am finished!"

Oh good. Antagonize him. That will save your career for sure. Why must his internal monologue be sarcastic, on top of being right. Whoever this Dorzhe character was, he definitely has more rank and influence that Virgil. Pissing him off was probably a bad career move. Damn it, things had just started looking up, too.

A groan from the radical woman turned his attention back to her, away from his own dismal future. Tied to a chair in an empty room, virgil decided to give her a moment to consider her circumstances. Interogation is a tricky business, the most difficult part being the creation of trust with the prisoner. There was a time when PIE used torture to gain information, and torture was still a part of the interrogation, but generally no questions are asked during the torture. It is possible to destroy the mind and body of a person and never discover what you want to know, truely disciplined minds can withstand tremendous amounts of pain, humiliation and frustration without cracking. Given enough time, breaking the woman would be easy enough... but time was something Virgil was had very little of.

"Good morning, Ma'am. It is my duty to inform you that you have been placed in the protective custody of the Party. We have recieved several reports of Radical subversives in the area, and we are moving all loyal Party members to our accomidations in central Illinois. Before you leave, however, I would like you to answer a few question, of you would?" Virgil made the last statement a question, hoping to keep the woman off-guard with courtesy.

"My goodness, where are my manners? Let me get that gag out of your mouth. You cried out twice while unconscious, and nearly gave our position away before we could get you to this secure area," loosening the gag, Virgil tried his best to be gentle, but she had a large welt on the side of her head that made the work difficult. "This is more difficult than I imagined. Wait a moment please."

Stepping outside, Virgil got a sharp knife and returned to the prisoner, cutting her hands free and then handing her the knife. "There, you can get the gag out," Virgil used the kindest voice h