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| The Devil's Playground ((IC)); There is no such thing as innocence... | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: 22 Sep 2008, 11:43 PM (1,840 Views) | |
| StormWolf | 22 Sep 2008, 11:43 PM Post #1 |
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Humanity has been wicked from the start. Since Adam and Eve, or the first caveman, whichever one you believe in. It is part of human nature to be cruel, sick, twisted, and a mean cocktail of all sorts of bad shit. You people may not believe me, but it is true, no matter what you believe. Look at the Gladiators, the human sacrifices, the blood orgies, and the crucifixions; what can be seen as humane and normal about that? I'll tell you... NOTHING!!! The answer lies right before us, it always has. We have strayed from His Path, we did a long, long, time ago... Before Eden, even. It is no act of pre-destination, but the blood on humanities hands has never been attempted to be washed away, it has just been left to coagulate and cake up on out hands, waiting to be wetted by another drop of blood. Though, over time, we have become less barbaric... more sophisticated in the ways he cause pain and suffering. The art of inflicting harm has become so simple and passive, even those meant to prevent it inflict it. There is one thing that we all need to know, though; No one is innocent. ((not a real city)) Patriot City, the largest city in the U.S. as far as crime is concerned. Being on the coast, drug runners, human traffickers, black market dealers, and foreign fugitives come to the city by the boatload every day. With a population that rivals with New York, the crime rate is extraordinary, and the crimes are horrific. How horrific, you might ask? To be honest, there is no way that someone can describe ritualistic human sacrifices, using small children as the literal "sacrificial lamb". The department found that case a few weeks ago, only because one of our deputies lost her little girl to the fuckers. There is something much more than common crime infesting the pores of this rotting city, something that makes murder seem trivial. Cults are everywhere, spreading their influence to all the major and minor gangs of the city, waging some Unholy War on the Patriot City streets. It is strange, they kill each other yet they call each other "brother". This is not the "Gangsta" lingo we are talking about, but the cultist brotherhood type of "brother". No one would believe that they were actually doing this for some greater scheme, but those thoughts were reconsidered when a children's hospital was blown apart and burnt to the ground by, what seems like spontaneous combustion. The horrible truth that no one knows, and if they do, they are either in alliance with Him or in a straight jacket, is that the Devil is walking among the city. Brought to the streets by the suffering that has transpired there for generations. Patriot City has become the Devil's Playground, he uses the low-life scum that festers in the dank, smelling armpits of the city as pawns. Their job: collecting the souls of the less guilty and the only true innocents - infants and children. The Devil's presence has become so potent, that the Saints have been sent down with legions of Arch Angels to force the Despoiler back into hell. This is the world we live in, how will you deal with it? How will you act? Who will you ally yourself with? The Damned - The demons from hell, though they are much older than Christianity. This entity is the polar opposite of what we cherish as Life and Light, it is Darkness and Death. It is more like it's own living entity, than an ethereal force. The Damned infest and fester in the cesspools that are human souls; they are like Hunger, clinging onto you until you are nothing but a skeleton of your former self. The best way to fight them... there is none, but that best way to show your allegiance and possibly save your soul is to kill anyone who isn't on your side... that is all you can do. The Angelus - The Light and Life of the world... but those aren't sent to help us. The Light and Life is kept in the Light Beyond; the "Angels" sent to earth are the warrior angels, the Arch Angels of Gabriel. These select few legions of Angels are trained to fight The Damned when Judgement Day comes around. Then there is the human element; stupid as a whole, but their tradeoff is that they are stubborn, and they refuse to give up. They are heart and soul, flesh and blood, mind and matter... They are the ones who are meant to rule this world, will they stand by and let the Beyond consume them? Or will they fight to their last breath to keep it? **** Patriot City Police Department**** "...and so that is the third terrorist attack in the last six months." The Cheif said, after clicking his way through a corancopia of slides that involved destroyed schools and children's hospitals. The culprits didn't look like anything special, just some street thugs that decided to go for the gold in the Devil's Book and blow up a pre-school. "Any Questions?" The Cheif asked. He was a grisly looking old man, his thinning hair and angry, wrinkled face. Those high enough in rank to be friendly with him called him "Gramps", because he looked like the grampa from hell. As for the questions, there weren't many, but then some cadet raised his hand. "Sir, what are these men's motives? They seem to be targeting children, but why?" The Cheif nodded throughout he question, then smiled and waved his wrinkled and worn hands dismissively, "Don't worry boy, we got one of our best men on the job." ***Patriot South Communal Docks*** There was about ten of them, Columbian drug runners, moving bags of their renowned "Pure Sugar" into the back of a semi-truck with ten Patriot City's most wanted watching over the exchange. "Good job, Mikey. This is your firts deal and you're doin' great." One of the slick-haired, suit wearing, and Uzi swinging Italians said to a youngster in the similar clothing. All was going well, these drugs would be on the street in a week and the Franchetti family would be raking in the dough, then. In the shadow of an alley, someone was watching the exchange, like a wolf watching a herd of elk, waiting to pick out the weakest one. One of Patriot City's finest, though not in the best of ways, was watching as he would take a draw on his cigarette every once and a while. Once he saw the drugs, he knew what he had to do. |
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And then they murdered the whole world.... Spoiler: click to toggle This isn't going to end well... Spoiler: click to toggle ![]() Dissidia: Clash of the Titans - The Ultimate Final Fantasy ![]() | |
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| ConfusedAngel | 23 Sep 2008, 02:42 AM Post #2 |
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Selyna sat on the edge of a building and watched the men below her. She flexed her wings and crossed her legs, thoroughly happy. She ran a hand through her long rust colored hair and closed her eyes as the night breeze carressed her skin. She rose to her feet and walked away from the scene to look for prey but then she smelled it. A slight hint of cigarett smoke. She walked back to the Italians and confirmed that they indeed were not smoking. She walked the perimeter of the building, looking over the edge for where the smoke was coming from. And there was the light from the end the cigarette as the human puffed on it. She lay down on the building and watched the human, a small smile playing on her lips. She would wait, it would be too easy now. |
| What the hell is this anyway?! | |
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| killersheepie | 23 Sep 2008, 03:27 AM Post #3 |
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Svetlana "That's not going to be a very good idea, my friend." A rhythmic, monotonous voice echoed across the rooftop, a chilling breeze accompanying it with a wail. As the speaker stepped from the darkness, the city lights cast a rail-thin, winged shadow before her, yet her form was that of a heavily-dressed human with choppy, black hair. She moved swiftly across the roof, her feet seeming to barely touch the surface as she walked. As she stopped at the edge of the building -- a good distance away from the seductress -- she peered down over the dock, eyeing the figures below with a weary eye. Craning her neck, her focus moved to the shadowed, smoking man covered by the overcast of the alley. All she could see was the glow from the end of his cigarette. She then eyes the seductress warily with her peripheral vision. "Not a very good idea at all..." |
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If a ninja could be a food, what food would it be? "A cream puff. A very deadly cream puff. Maybe, the pastry, it has very sharp angles on it, and the cream that's inside is poison, the powdered sugar is actually, um, powdered swords. That's a pretty deadly food right there. I'd, I wouldn't mind being that food. Would NOT want to eat one, though." | |
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| ConfusedAngel | 23 Sep 2008, 03:41 AM Post #4 |
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"I am only watching." She gracefully stood up and looked her new companion over. A smiled played on her lips as she walked toward her fellow demon. Placing one hand on her hip she circled her and almost purred. "Only watching. I am biding my time for when the picking will be ripe." After fully circling her Selyna stopped in front of her. "And who are you?" |
| What the hell is this anyway?! | |
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| StormWolf | 23 Sep 2008, 04:53 AM Post #5 |
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Finishing his cigarette, Max Hartigan was ready to do his job, the way he wanted to do it, of course. Walking out of the alley, he strode towards the Italians and the Columbians, his badge all the way back at the Department. It wasn't long before one of the Columbian guards noticed him and walked towards him with a crowbar. The drug runner started speaking some language that Max didn't know or care to know, so he gave the one sign that everyone around the world knows; he made a fist, but left his middle finger standing at attention. The Columbian swung the crowbar, only to be caught at the wrist by Maxwell's hands. The man looked into Max's eyes with fear, then the Detective spoke, "Hasta la vista, motherfucker." He snarled before the sound of a Colt .45 roared and the drug runner fell to the ground in a pool of his own blood. "Kill that fucker!" The Italian leader, Mikey, ordered. The Columbians and the Italians started shooting. Hartigan already started running, having pulled out his second .45, both barrels of the handgun blazing. The Detective leapt over a crate whilst shooting, landing in a roll and ducking right back into cover. He saw a dead Italian on the ground with a winchester, causing Maxwell to smile. The remaining Italians and Columbians pumped the crate and the area around it with small arms fire until only the clicks of the gun hammers could be heard. That sound was Maxwell's queue. He rose from his position, his trench coat matted with a fine white, powdery layer of Columbian Sugar. As he rose, he cocked the shotgun and fired; again and again and again, until all the dealers but Mikey lay wasted on the ground. The young crime guru tried crawling away until he saw two bloodstained, black, steel-toed biker boots before him. He barely had enough time before one of those boots kicked him in the nose, knocking him out. With that, Hartigan tied the little suave fuck up with duct tape and tossed him in the trunk of a car. The Detective walked over to a toppled table, his shotgun resting on his shoulder, looking for something. He found it, a metal briefcase filled to the brim with Benjamin's; easily five grand. Tossing the money into his new car, he turned on the engine and drove out of the scene before someone called the "good" cops. **** Cortez Docking Warehouse - Shut down for over 15 years.**** Cortez Warehouse, the rusty and old structure had been the place of illegal business for 20 years, now Hartigan used it as his unofficial interrogation room. He pulled Mikey out of the trunk and tossed him in a chair, using more duct tape and a utility chain to hold him. Maxwell Hartigan spent months in the nuthouse because of this little fucker's prick of an uncle, now he and the rest of the Franchetti crime family were going ot feel the pain that Hartigan feels every day: Knowing that it was your fault for your entire family being killed in cold blood. When Mikey began to stir, Hartigan prospected his tools: Hacksaw, chains, nailgun, crowbar, pliers, car battery, alligator clamps, water and a washrag, kerosine, gasoline, matches, rusty nails, hammer, assorted power tools, and an assortment of unwashed surgical supplies. Mikey started and looked around, he struggled frantically to try and escape, but to no avail. "Stop your fucking squirmin'." Hartigan said as he lit another cigarette. The little crime boss didn't stop squirming, in fact, he started whining. Maxwell glared and picked up his nailgun, aiming at a kneecap on his prisoner and pulled the trigger. With a hiss and a zip, a 9 inch nail was buried in Mikey's left kneecap. Hartigan then picked up a rusty scalpel, extracting as much as he wanted and needed to know from his helpless victim as he removed Mikey's fingernails with the sharp object. The torture went on for a while, until Hartigan decided to use the powerdrill. "W-what's that fer'?" Mikey stuttered. Maxwell chuckled in return. Pulling the trigger a few times to make the drill spin with a eerie zing. "This? Oh, this is the true lie detector. I take this drill, and I slowly bore holes... into the pain centers of your fucking brain. Your brother lasted about two drills, I am anxious to see how his pussy brother will last. **** Maxwell left the building, leaving the burning pire now known as Mikey Franchetti inside. He pulled off his blood-splattered trench coat and removed his red-spotted, white shirt. Good.... Goooood... You are very adept in causing human suffering. You would be a great addition for my legion, but you still fight and kill with morals and motives, and you are a good Christian... what a shame. Oh well, you are too pure to be let into my paradise and you are too wicked to be let into heaven, so you will just rot here... unless you are willing to change your ways, and kill for the love of killing... I can save your from your maggot-infested future, if you would just sign my Book Hartigan heard a dark and deep voice whisper to him, these words. They sent chills up his spine and caused his breath to become cold. He looked about with his blue eyes, scanning the rooftops, "Hello?" He half-yelled. Pullung out his pistol he inspected the alleys, finding nothing. He just sighed and walked to the car he came in, "I need to stop doing these drug busts..." |
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And then they murdered the whole world.... Spoiler: click to toggle This isn't going to end well... Spoiler: click to toggle ![]() Dissidia: Clash of the Titans - The Ultimate Final Fantasy ![]() | |
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| ConfusedAngel | 23 Sep 2008, 06:18 AM Post #6 |
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Selyna followed the detective to the warehouse and settled down for the wait. There was no way she could get inside without interrupting his work. Though she heard the screams from the human and she did her best to stifle any laughs that wanted to work their way out. When he was done and the warehouse was in flames, she slowly followed him. "Perfect." She loved a man who could torture like that. One such as he would be wonderful in her Master's army. So she continued to follow him and watch, biding her time until she could reveal herself. |
| What the hell is this anyway?! | |
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| Lumina | 23 Sep 2008, 05:12 PM Post #7 |
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Altria rested on top of a tall building. She stretched her wings and yawned. It had been a while since the angels had told her she was half damned, but she was determined to prove herself an angel by killing as many damned as she could. She stroked her orb and it floated along next to her. she jumped up and caught the orb. She used her power to project a picture of the demon king inside it. Altria had been training so one day she could defeat him, but that day had yet to come. He sat in all his cruel glory, lazily on a throne made of fire, ordering his servants around. Altria let go of the orb and it floated along side her, now just a clear crystal ball. She soared above the skyline, and looked for something that caught her eye. |
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| StormWolf | 23 Sep 2008, 06:21 PM Post #8 |
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Unlike any other cop, Hartigan didn't go to the precinct to clock out, instead he drove himself to St. Peter's Cathedral and Cemitary. He opened the old wrought-iron gate with a loud creak. He walked into the hallowed grounds of the cemitary and stopped before two headstones, they read: Maria Hartigan 1983-2008 Beloved Daughter, Loving Wife, Caring Mother Forever Rest In The Cradle Of God The other stone read: Jennie Hartigan 2005-2008 Beloved Daughter, Cherished Child, Loving Sister Bring Your Youthful Light To Heaven Maxwell Hartigan stood in front of the graves, placing roses on them and lighting some candles. "I am sorry, Marie, Jennie... Renna." he stayed kneeled and choked back a sob, "I'm gonna get those fuckers that took you from me, I am doing that only because I have no place in heaven. I love you." He kissed the headstones and walked inside the church. |
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And then they murdered the whole world.... Spoiler: click to toggle This isn't going to end well... Spoiler: click to toggle ![]() Dissidia: Clash of the Titans - The Ultimate Final Fantasy ![]() | |
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| Lumina | 23 Sep 2008, 06:27 PM Post #9 |
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a glistening light drew Altria closer. when she fluttered to a halt and hung it the air a few feet off the ground, she could see that what was twinkeling was some candles. She landed on the ground and read the headstones. Putting her hand on her mouth and thinking for several minutes, she figured that this was that man's wife and daughter and called her orb closer. She examined something in it and flinched when she saw the people who killed the two. She unfolded her wings and flew to the top of the church, setting her orb beside her. |
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| StormWolf | 24 Sep 2008, 04:57 AM Post #10 |
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Maxwell Hartigan entered the cavernous cathedral, sitting at one of the pews and knitted his hands together in prayer. He prayed to whoever would be listing to his prayers, then he stood and walked into a confession booth, he took a deep breath and spoke to whomever was on the other side, "Forgive me, Father... For I have sinned... again." The troubled man said, running his hands through his messy and short black hair. "I have been hearing voices, Father... Voices of the Damned and the Light; Like I am being contacted from the world beyond. Please, tell me... what does it all mean?" He spoke hoarsely as he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, keeping tears back as best he could. It had only been a few months since his family was killed, and only three weeks since he was let out of the nuthouse. "Tell me, Father... Am I beyond salvation? Is my name in the Dark Prince's Book? Will I be forsaken to the pits of hell at my death, doomed to never see my family again? Tell me, Father." |
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And then they murdered the whole world.... Spoiler: click to toggle This isn't going to end well... Spoiler: click to toggle ![]() Dissidia: Clash of the Titans - The Ultimate Final Fantasy ![]() | |
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| Ladie Luck | 24 Sep 2008, 04:58 AM Post #11 |
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Mare awoke abruptly as the church door slowly creaked shut behind Hartigan, elongating it’s sound and thoroughly paining his hangover induced headache. Making the twenty-eighth pew his bed and St. Peter’s Cathedral his temporary home had been a snap decision. One he had made in hopes that the cult members that he had once considered his “employees” would stay away from the Lord’s house. He himself had no personal stake, or faith for that matter, placed in religion. He simply hoped that hiding within it's stronghold would chase away the zealous sects that did. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and allowed them to focus on the man standing in the doorway. Something about the guy screamed danger. He let out an audible yawn and gave a quick nod of his head toward Hartigan to acknowledge the man’s presence. Something about the guy was also familiar. And in his world that was rarely a good thing. He quickly looked away and pulled a crumpled package of cigarettes from its place within his pocket, drew one out, shoved it in his mouth and searched for his lighter. All while trying to avoid taking another glance in Maxwell’s direction. “Damn it.” He cursed under his breath. His lighter was gone. And he knew exactly where it was. He had lent it to his, now deceased, best friend. That meant that his chances of ever seeing it again were slim to none. He pulled the cigarette from it's place between his lips and sighed before reaching below his pew to draw a bottle of cheap liquor up to his lips. He took a quick sip and cleared his throat before turning his gaze back to Hartigan. “You got a light?” |
![]() RPA is undergoing an upgrade. Read everything you need to know about it HERE! | |
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| StormWolf | 24 Sep 2008, 06:20 AM Post #12 |
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Maxwell saw the mess of a man sitting on a pew, cigarette in mouth and brown-bagged bottle in hand. Hartigan couldn't help but chuckle at the man, drinking and smoking in the House of the Lord, but he pitied the man and tossed him a pack of motel-grade matches, "Just don't go and piss on the Savior's Statue, alright?" he said with a chuckle, sitting down on the pew across from the man. The detective's coat sagged open, showing the handle of his pistol and the grip of his knife, but no badge. |
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And then they murdered the whole world.... Spoiler: click to toggle This isn't going to end well... Spoiler: click to toggle ![]() Dissidia: Clash of the Titans - The Ultimate Final Fantasy ![]() | |
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| Guardian | 24 Sep 2008, 12:48 PM Post #13 |
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Delvan helped unload cargo from a large ship named "Lords Lady". "If that's not a drug ship I don't know what is." He muttered to himself. He was working the crane he set the cargo in front of an old beat up moving van. Once all the boxes were unloaded he let the boat captain know and left to work on a broken propeller. The boat captain greeted him right away with the strong hand shake. then the captain spoke, "Ya so's we was fish'n when a green horn slipped the line under the keel and it got tangled in the propelled. could ya give her a look." He nodded then went to get his gear, an under water welder, rope,wetsuit, air, and welding stick. Delvan tied himself off the at the cleat and dropped into the murky water. He could tell the rope needed to be cut, He pulled out his knife and started hacking away, and after an hour he finally got the rope out of the propeller. Now he had to remove it since it was bent out of whack. It didn't take long to remove the twisted metal from the boat and return to the surface. He handed the captain the propeller and told him he would need a new one. |
![]() NEW POEM ![]() Come Fight My BRUTE | |
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| Ladie Luck | 24 Sep 2008, 03:55 PM Post #14 |
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Mare caught the matches thrown his way and gave a quick thanks. Hartigan’s last comment and brought him to a realization. Behaving the way he now was, sleeping in a church and bumming matches off of a stranger, he was making himself out to be nothing more than a pitiable homeless man. How did I let it come to this? Less than a month ago his name had simultaneously registered in people’s minds alongside underworld figures of respect. Now, not only he was in desperate need of a re-up, but here he was asking for a handout. Never mind the fact that it was only a simple pack of matches. He noticed the gun and the knife but only subconsciously, he came from a world where things like that were understandably safer if not concealed. It was the weapons you didn’t see that you had to worry about, the unknown. A question had arisen within his mind and taken immediate precedence. Mare Alvarez had never been the type of man who possessed the ability to hold his tongue. “Hey,” he said getting to his feet and taking a couple steps toward his match benefactor. “You’re a man of God, or whatever the hell you religious people want to call yourselves, right? Can I ask you something?” He paused for a second but didn’t wait for a reply before speaking again. “Is there such thing as divine protection? Like, say I do something for God or whatever…will he have my back…a favor for a favor type of deal?” |
![]() RPA is undergoing an upgrade. Read everything you need to know about it HERE! | |
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| Lumina | 24 Sep 2008, 10:16 PM Post #15 |
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Altria once again stroked her orb and it floated beside her. She held it for a few minutes and concentrated intensely on it, and soon her wings shrunk into her back. She let out a painful yelp, but held the orb over her head as she jumped off the roof, tightly gripping the orb, she was coming to the ground slowly. She let go of the orb and walked into the church. Her orb followed her wherever she went so she didn't have to worry about losing it. This was the place she had waken up that fateful day when she was sent down to earth and she came back here often to see if the angels had changed their mind about letting her come back. |
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| DemonGirl00 | 24 Sep 2008, 11:53 PM Post #16 |
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Nika wandered the around one of the many streets of the city, nerby the apartment complex she resided in. She looked around. In the weeks since she finally worked up the income to rent out her apartment, the other residents seemed to always be watching her, as several people stared at her as they passed. It didn't take her long to realize why. Her snow-white hair and golden eyes made her stand out like a sore thumb. She wasn't about to let that fact keep her from having a normal life. She stared up at the ten stories of apartments. She let out a huff, then continued down the street to a nearby church. St. Peter's Cathedral could be read from a sign that stood just outside the door. She stared up at the spire that towered above her from atop the church. She then looked back down at the doors, and pondered going inside. Being a demon child, the thought crossed her mind that it would be a bad idea. But upon further examination of her choices, she asked herself: 'What's the worst that could happen?' Of course, there was the chance that a priest would be waiting inside with a bottle of holy water, waiting to drench her in it. But there was also the chance that church wasn't in service that day, and it would be empty. She began walking towards the doors. 'What's the harm in taking a look around?' she thought as she approached the entrance. The demoness grabbed the handle of the door and opened it. Inside, the cathedral was empty, save for two men talking amongst eachother. She leaned on the door, keeping it ajar as she took a look around. The inside was magnificant, with its high ceilings and stained glass windows. She smiled a bit, as she continued her visual exploration of the sanctuary. |
![]() The week of August 3-7 is Band Camp, during which I will spend little time at home, much less on the computer. Check my blog for further details, if you so choose. | |
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| Lumina | 25 Sep 2008, 12:02 AM Post #17 |
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Altria heard the door creek open and quickly grabbed her orb, thrusting it under the bench. If the demon girl who just came in saw it, she would know that she was an angel... or half angel, or whatever she was, it wouldn't be pretty. Only the angels had such weapons as orbs and things would probably end up getting violent. Altria sunk down put her feet up on the bench and crept along the floor, her orb was still under the bench. She figured that without her wings and her orb she pretty much looked like a demon... which scared her to no end. She still didn't want to start a fight either way. Quickly crawling to the back door, her dress got caught on a loose piece of wood and made a faint tearing noise. The noise was too faint for a mere human to hear, but a demon or angel could have heard it from across the room... and the demon girl was only a few feet away. busted was all Altria could think she flipped and shifted into a position that she could easily summon her orb or leap and attack. |
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| Ryudo | 25 Sep 2008, 01:06 AM Post #18 |
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Derrick took a deep breath as he stood outside Patriot City District Police Department, he looked at the large building for a few seconds, its shadow seemed to loom over the entire city. Derrick took another deep breath, he loved the smell of the morning, dew on the ground, sun rising in the air. Derrick looked up a the sky, and he saw some ominous rainclouds approaching. Perhaps that’s a sign of things to come… As Derrick walked inside the Department there was an eerie silence in the room, the calm before the storm. Derrick walked to his locker, opened it up and took out his Detective’s badge and pistol. He smiled at his reflection in the badge, The face of change. Derrick holstered his pistol, and then walked into the conference room, where the meeting was just beginning, the Lieutenant’s face was already turning read, “How, in the name of all that is HOLY, does an entire branch of the Franchetti crime family wind up dead? That’s right, one of the top gang’s in this town, and we just wake up to find them dead, or worse missing! HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE? Dammit, if I don’t have a report on my desk, and a suspect behind bars by tonight, I swear that I will be making some very easy decisions on who gets cut from the force. Am I clear?” The lieutenant looked around the room angrily, everyone sat in silence, they too were surprised, “Alright, which one of you sorry excuses for a detective is going to take this case?” The question hung in the air for what seemed like a minute. Derrick looked around and saw all the other senior detectives looking straight at the ground, Derrick figured that cracking this case would be the quickest way to elevating his own position, besides he couldn’t be the new guy forever. Derrick raised his hand, and everyone stared directly at him, “I’ll take the case lieutenant.” Silence, the lieutenant looked at Derrick sharply, “Very well, you better find some results Palms, or else it’ll be back to patrol for you.” With that the Detectives all walked out of the room, none of them made eye contact with Derrick. **Patriot South Communal Docks** Derrick looked at the scene before him, the grisly violence that had occurred earlier had left blood and gore everywhere. Of course, I had to choose this as the case to prove myself during. Derrick looked at the casing that lay strewn around haphazardly, someone was firing a lot of rounds, haphazardly. Derrick picked up a shell and examined it, Colt .45. Derrick labeled it and stored it as evidence, after a few minutes of collection Derrick decided to leave the rest of the scene to C.S.I. He had already had a hunch as to who had killed the Franchetti’s, the .45 shell sealed the deal. Derrick pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number that he hadn’t used for a very long time. Come one Hartigan, pick up. |
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| killersheepie | 25 Sep 2008, 01:09 AM Post #19 |
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((Sorry for not posting a response in a while, I've been sick and haven't had a chance to be online for a good amount of time)) Svetlana Still stuck atop the roof of the building near the dock, she glanced about, wondering. Caught in a trance for one moment, and she disappears...one of her tricks? Grumbling, she eyes the fire escape and shuffles towards it, then climbs over the ladder and down. Halfway down the escape, she lunges off the side, floating to the ground below her without a sound. Then...she heard something. She could hear voices, both vocal and non, of questionable descents congregating somewhere fairly close by (close enough for her, at least). Soon, one of the non-audible voices stressed, preemptively readying itself. Her dark eyes scanned the dock, and after finding nothing of interest there, she began to walk. The walk turned into an abrupt sprint. Building after building passed, as well as people, dizzying lights flying by her as she darted through the crowds. Curious being as she was, she decided she wanted to investigate the voices. What her curiosity brought her to was a wrought-iron gate. Peering through its bars, she observed tombstone after tombstone, two of them in particular reeking of two widely diverse scents. Her eyes flitted to the church in the near distance. There are people here... Not a usual bunch, of course. It was too late at night for the religious types. The nightmarette (as she liked to classify herself) silently crossed the threshold of the cemetary, the trail of scents growing stronger. It stank. As she approached the doors of the church, she did nothing but stop in place. Staring at the door, she listened...and waited. |
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If a ninja could be a food, what food would it be? "A cream puff. A very deadly cream puff. Maybe, the pastry, it has very sharp angles on it, and the cream that's inside is poison, the powdered sugar is actually, um, powdered swords. That's a pretty deadly food right there. I'd, I wouldn't mind being that food. Would NOT want to eat one, though." | |
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| Guardian | 25 Sep 2008, 01:42 AM Post #20 |
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Ryan's work day was done he flagged a cab to drive him to the cemetery were his great grandfather was berried. He walk up and down the rows of grave stones until he came to the ninth row he walked down it till he reached the sixth tombstone. His great grandpa was Sargent Major of the 96th marine rangers. His grave marker said. Mj. SRG. fuelter 1914-1942 A punishment to some, to some a gift, and to many a favor. Three purple hearts, Two bronze stars, one silver star. To brag about after death. He stood there honoring his brave great grandfather who died to serve his country a country of freedom a country of crime and hatred for one another. Ryan has had though many times of becoming a priest or joining the military to serve his country. He decided against it. When he turned to walk away he noticed shadows of people through the churches stain glass windows. He wanted to go pray for his great grandpa and also see who was in the church. He entered the church and noticed two men on the other side speaking to each other. Ryan knelt in one of the benches and began to pray. |
![]() NEW POEM ![]() Come Fight My BRUTE | |
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| DemonGirl00 | 25 Sep 2008, 02:05 AM Post #21 |
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Nika was just about to pluck up the courage to sit down in one of the pews, when she heard a faint tearing noise. Seconds later, a girl sprang up from the floor, just feet away, and took on some form of fighting stance. "Err," Nika began, "Can I help you..?" She wasn't exactly sure how she should react. Sure, she thought, this girl looks like she's about to attack me, but the question is why? Still unsure of whether to consider this girl a threat, she tensed, ready to strike, but remained in a semi-relaxed position. She was in no mood for a fight, and starting one wouldn't do much good. Revealing herself in a church, of all places, could turn out to be a huge mistake. So, she relaxed as much as possible, but still kept the thought in mind that a fight could break out at any given moment. |
![]() The week of August 3-7 is Band Camp, during which I will spend little time at home, much less on the computer. Check my blog for further details, if you so choose. | |
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| StormWolf | 25 Sep 2008, 05:35 AM Post #22 |
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Hartigan sat in one of the pews, blanking out on the statue of the Savior. He looked back to the man who asked him for matches, "No, I 'ain't no child of God, if I am, I'm a bastard child. The Big Man tends to frown on people like me..." Hertigan's phone began to ring, "...excuse me..." The detective stormed out of the church and off the cemetery before picking up, "The fuck you want?" He more demanded, than asked. Pulling out a cigarette and lighting it as he spoke into his flip-phone. "Don't fuck-heads like you know you 'ain't supposed to call someone during Confessions? Jesus Christ... And how the fuck do you still have my number?" |
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And then they murdered the whole world.... Spoiler: click to toggle This isn't going to end well... Spoiler: click to toggle ![]() Dissidia: Clash of the Titans - The Ultimate Final Fantasy ![]() | |
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| ConfusedAngel | 25 Sep 2008, 05:54 AM Post #23 |
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Selyna sat outside the church, already losing interest in the human. She never could keep her attention on humans unless they kept her interest. This human so far has not. She sat down on a headstone and crossed her legs, enjoying the darkness. Unlike most demons she could not hide her true-self and so therefore hid in the shadows. She enjoyed becoming the nightmare for some and a dream come true for others. Even though they realized in the end that what they thought they wanted, was not what they had in mind after all. She looked up at the sky and smiled, they always looked like tiny diamonds twinkling in the sky. She did not like this age, the age where they thought they had everything figured out. They had no fear of the night, no fear of darkness, no fear of nightmares. The only thing they feared were their weapons, the other humans on the street. This needed to change. Unfortunately that was not her forte. She flexed her wings and continued to stare at the stars, slowly sliding from the headstone to the ground. Why do humans fear the dead? She ran her hands over the grass knowing full well that a decomposing human was lying six feet down. The thought made her smile. I did not send you to lie about, dear one. I have given you a job. Now get off your ass and do it! She stifled a scream as she felt fire envelope her, searing her flesh and further ruin her wings. A single tear of pain slowly trailed its way down her cheek. "Yes, I have a job." With that she stood up and walked out of the graveyard and to look for the detective. He showed promise, so much promise. |
| What the hell is this anyway?! | |
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| Lumina | 25 Sep 2008, 04:20 PM Post #24 |
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Altira examined the girl and decided she had no idea that she was even an angel good she thought She decided that she wasn't going to act suspicious and stood up. If anyone was going to accuse her of being an immortal, they would think she was a demon since she looked nothing like an angel, even with her wings. Brushing herself off, she shook her head and went up to the priest, pretending to make a confession. She never believed in religion, but she knew that there was some sort of connection to the angelus from this church, so she hoped they would hear her and forgive her for being tainted by a demon. |
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| Ladie Luck | 25 Sep 2008, 08:38 PM Post #25 |
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As Hartigan walked away Mare felt slightly frustrated. He wasn’t sure exactly what he had hoped to hear from the stranger but he knew it wasn’t what he got. He felt childish, almost naïve actually, but he was fairly certain that he had wanted some attempt from the man to convert him. He had wanted some show of faith from a man carrying a gun and a knife on his person while begging aloud to the Lord for some kind of divine absolution. In those few moments he had almost felt a connection with Maxwell Hartigan simply because they were both armed and spiritually lost. So the guy wasn’t your run of the mill bible-thumper. Get over it. He sat himself down in his pew and sighed, giving his fingers a quick run through his tangled curls. He wanted to make himself move on but the truth was that he couldn’t. Instead he sat there, hiding away in some church hoping for some miracle of God. It didn’t have to be God necessarily just whatever the hell existed on that higher plane of absolute divinity. Somewhere out in that city there was a cult of lunatics hoping to spill his insides all over an altar and he didn’t think it was fair. No scratch that, life wasn’t fair in general. What he really thought was that he happened to deserve something more. He was human after all and that meant one thing. His world centered around himself. I guess what I want is some kind of intervention. I want something to believe in… something more relevant to my soul then the cocaine in my trunk and the money in my pocket leftover from selling that little Russian girl to some sick fuck with a suitcase full of cash and a thing for children. “Who am I kidding?” He mumbled and then laughed at the thought, momentarily shattering the silence of the church, enjoying the sound of his own echo. “God doesn’t want me.” He said aloud with a grin, continuing to laugh as he rose to his feet, gathered his things and headed toward the door. |
![]() RPA is undergoing an upgrade. Read everything you need to know about it HERE! | |
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3:42 PM Jul 11