Jump to content

Sign Up Epidemic [M-LVS]


Recommended Posts

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]In most cities across the world, the government runs the place. The mayor, the governor, the police, and the numerous other federal officials that are tangled up in the beurocracy. They make the laws, and they enforce them. The people listen to them, and everything is reasonably peaceful. That's the way it's supposed to be, everyone knows that. But that's not [I]always[/I] the way it is.

Especially in Bolest City, home of the Epidemic.

The government doesn't run Bolest City. They've long ago been pushed out, reduced to just a hollow symbol of the life that might exist outside of the city limits. No, there is a different kind of leader in Bolest. The leaders are the members of a gang called the Epidemic. It is not a big gang - only five people big, in fact. But it is made up of five of the deadliest people in the world. They have the city in a strangle hold, regulating all the happenings and killing any who break their law.

But they are not all seeing, of course. Other gangs have popped up around the city - three, in fact. One is a group of ex-Epidemic, back before the leaders took off on their own for greater glory. Another is just a gaggle of high school punks who want to make it big. And the third...well, the third is a special case. The government, in the course of trying to eradicate the Epidemic, created four Biologically Engineered "Super Soldiers," that have now broken free of their control.

The world is falling apart for the shadow leaders of Bolest City. They're desperate, for the end of the Epidemic and the Super Soldiers, and all the gangs and sin that have permeated the city. So they've decided to do something [I]very[/I] naughty indeed. Because when things get hairy, sometimes, there's only one course of action left.


The government has called in four Professionals to take care of their...problem. Four expert killers, known for being able to handle any job they come across. Each one has been assigned to eradicate the Epidemic, the Failed Experiment, and any other gang members or criminals in the city. It's their job, and the Professionals will do anything to accomplish it.

But what nobody knows is that trouble is brewing for the Epidemic themselves. The legendary leader, the King of Kings, is slowly deteriorating under the weight of his own power. But, of course, all-powerful warriors don't just slowly die away. The King of Bolest City is not going to go out quietly. He's going down with a big, big bang, and the four Professionals are going to provide just the opportunity to tear the city apart, and leave an indelible mark on the world.


In Bolest City, there are currently five "Gangs" open to play. These are the Epidemic, the Professionals, the Experiment, the Virus, and the Illz. The Epidemic, Professionals, Experiment, and Virus are all hardened criminals, most of them embued with some super-natural capability. The Illz are just a couple high school kids who want to be gangsters.

[B]The Epidemic[/B] is composed of the Blood King, Old Death, the Carnivore, Sleeper, and the Mad Bull. Each one has their own area of expertise, the Blood King being an expert with bladed weapons, the aged Old Death a more old fashioned gunman, Carnivore the cannibal killer, mistress of poisons Sleeper, and the Mad Bull, a master of demolitions.

[B]The Professionals[/B] are four killers of unparalleled skill, their leader being the ambiguosly named V, a leather-clad master of seduction who screws, then slays. Also in his team are the equally mysterious T, H , and P. The four of them work individually, despite being on a team, and all have their own methods and styles for murder.

[B]The Experiment[/B] is made up of four genetically modified supersoldiers. They have been designated Operatives B-406, H-173, D-085, and W-902. B is the most vicious, a blood-thirsty fiend, while W is peaceful and seeks knowledge. D and H are both driven by revenge, D seeking his eventual death while H wants to survive his bloody vengeance. The four work in harmony, using their unique, animalistic prowess to take down the cops and assassins they face.

[B]The Virus[/B] are six ex-Epidemic warriors, who are seeking to crush the "Kings of Bolest" and take the city into their own hands. They are all exceptional fighters but, admittedly, they just weren't on par with the Epidemic at the time they cut the ties. But now, the Virus are stronger, and they are ready to get their revenge, with Carnivore's sister the most vengeance driven of them all.

[B]The Illz[/B] are the weakest of the lot, just being six bored, power hungry teenager, including all the standard stereotypes - the slut, the stupid jock, the goth who smokes, the stressed-out genius, the troubled outsider, and the slick leader who will lead them all to greatness. None of them are particularly skilled or exceptional, they just want power. And they'll do anything to get it, even sell the rest of them out.

The Blood King and P, the Professional, have been taken already, but all other spots are open. I'm hoping to get at least one in each gang before starting (even the Illz, though they're not entirely necessary, to be honest). Well, without further ado, here's the sign up sheet:

[B]Name:[/B] Standard. You're in an ambiguously placed American city, so make sure to have things fit. All names above are just codenames or nicknames, of course.
[B]Gender:[/B] Except for the ones mentioned above to have genders, which aren't many, feel free to go wild.
[B]Age:[/B] Illz are in High School, everyone else is older than that.
[B]Gang:[/B] Which Gang are you in?
[B]Weapon of Choice:[/B] What do they use in combat?
[B]Specialty:[/B] Except for the Illz, just about everyone has a little something that makes them special compared to the rest of humanity, be it increased reflexes, minor telekinetic powers, or whatever. Nothing extreme, no manipulation of elemental forces or anything, just little additions to the normal human condition.
[B]Appearance:[/B] The Experiment look inhuman, everyone else is pretty normal, though. Picture or good written description.
[B]Personality:[/B] How do they act, etc.
[B]Bio:[/B] Just three paragraphs or so on your characters history. Nothing fancy.
[B]Writing Sample:[/B] A short post from the mindset of your character.

My sign-up will be up soon. And just to let you know, despite the advanced genetics technology, this is pretty much modern day, weapons and clothing wise. Nothing fancy.

[B]EDIT:[/B] Forgot a marginally important bit on the sign-up - the "Gang" category. Please edit to list specifically which gang you're in.[/SIZE][/COLOR]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Name: Derrick Elsman aka Blind Sight

Gender: Male

Age: 35

Weapon: He uses a set of steel gauntlets and a series of daggers he keeps at his waist, totaling at 8.

Speacialty: He has heightend senses. He specializes in close combat. He is called blind sight for this reason, he is able to see without seeing, respond without knowing.

Appearance: A fairly tall man standing at about 6 foot. His hair is jet black and perfectly straight. It hangs at just below shoulder length. He dresses very presentably, usually in black suits. He is sometimes called the executive mortitian. The only sign of any darkness in his appearance is a scar just off the side of his right eye. He has calm and soothing eyes, and only lightly tanned skin. He has a somber alure to the opposite sex, but is much more interested in there blood then there.... Well, you get the idea. His build isn't slight, but he is not a muscular individual. He fights using his speed and reaction time he owes to his enhanced senses. He carries the scent of freshly pressed clothes and finely prepared individual. Fresh breath, clean hair and face, he looks like an upstanding member of society, but is in fact anything but.

Personality: He has a calm manner about him. He never seems tense or even angry. He uses this to his advantage in combat. He is an intelectual and loves to play mind games with his opponents. He derives an unseeable pleasure from the squirming of his opponents as he instills them with either feaar, anger, or total hopelessness.

Bio: Born to a simple family in a typical neighborhood, simple suburban living. Even from an early age he hated both his parents. They were so easily satisfied with there mediocre lives, he found it sickening. He had two younger siblings that were just as diluted as his parents were.

When he was in his teens he got his first job. He started working at a local pet shop, it was here he found his true love in life; Torture. He would take the small animals into the back room, when he was left to close the store, and see how long they could live once he had removed there hearts, or stomachs, or livers, or whatever else he could find inside there tiny bodies.

It wasn't til he graduated high school that he found another form of gratification in the form of gambling. He found a way to combine his two great loves in life; Money and torture. Watching a man squirm as his life was flushed away in a single deal of the cards, or a single roll of the dice brought him great exstacy. This was the world he wanted to be a part of.

He took to gang life easily and started his own little gang fora while, but quickly accended to a higher place. He moved up to the ranks of the leaders of this city and still dared to dream higher. But they were all suddenly hurled away from him, when he was cast out of this gang, known as the epidemic. He never frowned or screamed or even reacted in any negative way. He simply smirked to the news and walked away, it was so simple.

In the streets of Bolest city he easily one of the most horrid men to meet. He strikes fear in even the hearts of those he works with. He and the group known as Virus are planning to rise up and take the power from the epidemic. Derrick does it not for the power though. He does it so he can see that distraught and devastated look in the eyes of the city's king when he is left with nothing.

[B]Character Snippet[/B]: It was just another day on the streets of Bolest city for me. Another day of boredom, watching the rats of this city scurry about in such a meaningless way, like there lives meant something. I stepped out into the cool morning air and looked to the streets. Those pathetic high school thugs were standing on my street that morning. They now wish they hadn't been.

I decided to grace them with my presences as I walked to the sad standings, they seemed so desperate for power, so young and full of stupidity. I stopped a few feet short of them when they all turned to me at once. They looked to me as if they might want something from me. Ah, to be young again. A taller child in black approached, obviously of some importance in there group. He said to me "Hey old man. You sure a dressed awfully nice to be roming the streets. Where do you think it is your going?"

The others began to spread out around me, they had apparently decided to rob me. I set my head and closed my eyes, I coud hear there hearts beating ever so rapidly, like those of the rats from the pets store. I fixed my gaze on the one in front of me "My boy, what is it that you desire from me? Do you wish for money? If so, then I would gladly give you all I had. But you must show me something first."

The boy's head bobbed a bit "And that would be....."

I wonderd if he really would for a moment "I want you to kill your friends."

The others laughed a bit. I smiled and brought out a large some of cash, totaling about $1000. They all stopped and looked to each other, for a moment they all seemed content on the idea of jumping me all at once. But then he broke, the young always do.

It wasn't the leader, but the young girl standing just behind me. She suddenly jumped and killed the two boys next to her. The boy in front of me tried to stop her, but was greeted with a knife to the face. In a matter of only about 50 seconds, she had killed all her friends for only a thousand dollars. She stood in front of me "Now, give me the money. I need it, give it here or your next!"

I pulled the money out and pitched it to her "I said I would give you all I had."

As she caught the money I removed the eight knifes from my waist and drove them through her body. She went limp and fell to the ground, dropping the money at my feet. I reached down and picked it from the ground "I can't believe you would be as generous to give me back the money."

I reached out and pulled my knives from her body and continued on my way. These silly young ones, the would betray each other for money. Perhaps there was hope for this generation, as long as they satayed far from myself of course.
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[COLOR=DarkGreen][SIZE=1][B]Name:[/B] Kain Savage
Code name:[/B] T

[B]Gang:[/B] The Professionals

[B]Gender:[/B] Male
Age:[/B] 28

[B]Weapon of Choice:[/B] Three daggers that are carved out of bone with the blades made to the sharpest edge possible, one knife has the appearance of deaths cold hand reaching for the blade to serve his reaping upon the victim?s soul.

The second dagger is a carving of a man gripping his face and screaming with sheer terror as he is slowly devoured by a horrible creature.

The third has a group of people close together looking as if they are ghost, all of them screaming in anguish as if they are burning in the pits of hell. The blades on each dagger are about seven inches long for deep wounds when the puncture his prey. The edges are smooth so that they can enter cleanly and leave cleanly.

[B]Specialty:[/B] His reflexs are enhanced, nothing extreme but boosted enough to give him an edge to his patent technique of quick and effortless kills. He lacks in strength but doesn't see that as a problem; pinpoint accuracy is what he prides the most, when forced to; he uses his strongest ability to take a life with one, swift move. Aiming with the most vital spot on the human body. His ears are enhanced so that he can battle blind if forced to. His procision goes down but it provides a challenge to Kain and helps if he loses his eyes.

[B]Appearance:[/B] Kain stands at a height of 5'10" and has a normal build looking like an average Joe in size; he has long black spiked hair that comes to mid-back with red tips on the end of his hair. He wears a black cloak. He also wears black hard toed boots with a small spike stud on each heel; he has black pants with Chinese dragons stitched in with red or silver thread and a black shirt with a demon skull. He has dark green eyes with a face that looks young for age with a few scars here and there.
Personality:[/B] Kain acts like a professional when it comes to his job but does enjoy toying with anyone he can; he calculates each move to precise accuracy so that each blow he administrates counts. He regards others that are not part of his team as a threat and will do what is needed to be rid of the threat. He can be obedient at times but he mostly disregards warnings of potential enemies and goes about his business. He always maintains a blank face, showing very little expression of emotion to anyone.

[B]Bio:[/B] Kain grew up as a regular child so that he could learn the basics of life, well, he thought he was living a normal childhood. But his parents had contacted an academy that was funded and founded by the King of Kings and they gave Kain?s parents way of introducing puzzles into his daily life without him realizing it. So through out several years he grew smarter, playing games other children didn?t play.

When he turned ten he was old enough to be sent directly to the academy, where he further enhanced his abilities. He became an excellent killer with years of training; he developed his technique while in the academy that got him the recognition that made him one of the ?Professionals.? They witnessed his disregard for life and the perfection of Kain?s technique and skills. He earned the position of Professional by passing rigorous test and challenges that showed his abilities to their fullest.

When he had completed his test and challenges he emerged with scars that spotted his upper body, as a reward for being so effective and efficient he was given and injection that altered his all around genetic make up to allow him to surpass human reflex limitations. It wasn't a major boost that he would have liked but it did offer him the chance of being a spectacular member of the Professional. He has done jobs that regular men would fear and quickly reject to avoid death.

Kain feels nothing towards this; he has killed dozens of humans, abominations and even punk kids who desire power, fame, riches or anything that they would believe they could obtain from taking his life. And he has shown them no mercy. He has since been moved to Bolest city with the team to maintain control, and maybe cause a little chaos of his own.
Writing Sample:[/B] Kain looked out the window of their current base of operation, monitoring the streets he could see and the build of the land. Looking for the variation in height, steepness and the kind of landscape it was. Seeing if any recent factors would effect his performance if he was required to hunt someone down at that very moment. Calculating like he always did, the team had split up as they usually did; preparing themselves as they always had.

Kain watched the people pass, seeing the change in size, shape, height, and width; measuring what he estimated their strength and speed were just from the way the walked or the way they sway or moved their arms back and forth. He was too observant for his own good, he constantly would do this every new base of operation; he would watch and learn about his environment and its inhabitants. This was the way he learned about what level of threat the people served as and how they would be best dealt with if they were becoming a problem for their current employer.

To him they posed no threat, no problem to anything the team would do. The rivaling gangs however were is current problem; he had yet seen anything from them so he could not do a proper estimation of their abilities. The buildings they he could see from his perched spot were also obstructing his view of anything beyond them. Their height was impressive and the size was good for cover if needed from aerial attack. Kain thought a lot about improbable scenarios, he always thought is was better to be prepared for anything then unprepared for improbable.
?I wonder how much longer we must wait before we can see these rival gangs in action.?[/B][/COLOR] Kain spoke aloud to himself, it echoed in the room he was stationed in. He went back to his observing; double checking every person that passed. He didn?t want any surprises from these people. He watched carfully as he twirled one of his trust daggers inbetween his fingers.[/SIZE][/COLOR]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[SIZE=1][B]Name[/B]: Lucifer Payne a.k.a ?Old Death?
[B]Gender[/B]: male
[B]Age:[/B] 24
[B]Gang:[/B] The Epidemic
[B]Weapon of Choice[/B]: Lucifer?s only carries one gun and quiet frankly, that?s all
he needs. [URL=http://snowman.ascuk.net/rb_00008.jpg]Here[/URL] is a pic of the gun that Lucifer carries in his jacket. This gun has been passed down from generation to generation. In good condition, it packs a heavy punch on it?s victims. To Lucifer, The ?Raging Bull? is like a part of him. No one touches the gun, unless they want to be staring at the end of it?s barrel.
[B]Specialty:[/B] Lucifer has a gift of great hearing. Either hearing a small conversation between two people or hearing footsteps that are quiet as a cat approaching behind him. His hearing saved his life a lot of times when someone comes for a sneak attack. To find information he wants, he could be twenty feet away from two people talking and still hear them. He is grateful to his gift for it also helps him to seek out his enemies. One footstep is one bullet in your chest.
[B]Appearance[/B]: [URL=http://pantransit.reptiles.org/images/2001-10-28/wolf.jpg]Here[/URL] is a pic
[B]Personality:[/B] Lucifer let?s his gun do more of the talking. He doesn?t speak his mind much and doesn?t interact with others. He doesn?t like cry-babies and would love to send a bullet to their heads. Nobody would like to get on Lucifer?s bad side. The bad news of that is you never know if your on it or not. His expressions never do change on his face, except when he?s pissed off. He doesn?t show mercy and you better be grateful if he ever does (bad odds). In a fight, if Lucifer has to reload once, your something surviving that long.
Lucifer loathes the sun and prefers the rain over anything. During a sunny day, you can find him under a tree or anywhere with cover. Nobody knows why he hates the light so much, because he never talks about that. He loves the sound of rain dripping on the ground. Maybe that?s the only thing he loves, besides his priceless revolver.
[B]Bio:[/B] Lucifer Payne was born in a small city and was raised in that city until he was fourteen, when that night everything changed his life. His life was not going to well, his parents were in debt and they fought many times. Lucifer thought it was no big deal and hide in his room when they calmed down. Tonight though was different, the fighting was know going for hours and Lucifer was getting tired of it. He went out of his room to complain to his parents when he spotted his father was on top of his mother, choking her to death. He went over to pry him off, but was slapped aside as he continued the assault. Ever since he turned ten, he was allowed to fire the ?Raging Bull? revolver at cans in the backyard. Without thinking, he rushed in the kitchen and gripped the handle of the gun from the closet. He ran back in the living room as he saw his mother dead on the floor. His father, breathing heavily, raised his hands, begging his son to put the gun down. Full of rage, he popped the gun up and fired at his father, who blew back to the wall at impact. He felt as though something was crawling up his back as he wanted more. Wanted more blood. He quicky ran into the closet again and grabbed the carton of bullets and put them in his pocket. He ran out of his house and found a woman on her porch. The old hag that kept telling him to stop crossing her lawn from school. He took a few steps and aimed at her head without her ever knowing. Bang. Twenty murders that night as rain was cast over the small town. The police investigated and never found out where the Payne?s kid was.
If you never guessed, Lucifer ran away from that small city and traveled north. He wasn?t afraid on where he was going or if he might get caught by a policemen. He felt that the only person you can love is yourself, if you love anyone else. Your going to get hurt. That following week, he needed supplies while traveling. He went into a small market near another town. The old lady smiled and asked how he was. She was answered with a bullet between her eyes. He grabbed bunch of food and clothing and placed them in his bag. Why is her doing this? Killing people? Traveling? That?s something hard even for him to say.
After ten years traveling from state to state, killing and stealing he found a city. The city was called Bolest City. A city that wasn?t controlled by the government. A city that was run on a gang called the Epidemic. He?s been traveling for so long that he felt he should stay in the city and live a life for alittle while. Though he didn?t want his skills of killing to go to waste, he decided to join the gang. Of course, he had to kill a dozen of men in under one minute. Easy? It took only six bullets, Lucifer didn?t have to reload to kill the dozen. It only took twenty-eight seconds to kill them all. They allowed to join and he?s been living live there ever since.
[B]Writing Sample[/B]: Lucifer Payne a.k.a. ?Old Death? age 19
The rain was pouring down on Lucifer ever since he had arrived at the port city. Sirens could be heard from miles away, at least to him. He walked down the sidewalk, alone and hungry. He?s been on an empty stomach for two days now. He approached a stop sign when he could hear crying and a sniff. He turned to his right at a dark alleyway. Curious, he walked down the ally and found two dead bodies and a little girl in the middle. She was covered in blood and seemed unhurt. He could remember his parent on the floor, dead. He turned towards the sidewalk and ready to leave when she stopped him.
?Can you help me? My mama and papa... aren?t moving.? He sniffed again, trying to dry off the tears. He turned back to the girl and stared down at her. She raised her hand and pointed at the door behind her.
?Those....men went in there.? He looked up as rain was flowing down his sun glasses. Why not? He walked past her as he opened the door. The room was blended with black and red. Men could be heard from afar, laughing and cussing at each other. He walked all the way through and stopped at a poor table. Across the pool table sat the quiet men that looked up and saw Lucifer.
?Who the hell is this guy?? From Lucifer?s right came a large-fat man with a shotgun in his hands.
?Who the **** cares?! Kill that son of a *****!!? The fat man pulled up his shotgun, but fell back by the impact of Lucifer?s revolver. The members jumped as they pulled out there guns, but we?re stopped by bullet?s in all of there chest. Their leader sat on his couch, in total shock of his dead men around him. Lucifer walked over as he tried to huddle in a tiny ball.
?Come on man! Here, take this!!? he threw out bills from his pockets at Lucifer as they bounced off his gut and onto the floor. He slammed his foot on the man?s chest as he screamed like a little baby.
?Have mercy!!? He cried as tears ran down his face.
?I don?t.? He fired at his head as he died instantly. He put away his gun as he picked up the dollar bills. He will finally eat tonight. He walked out to see the girl still there.
?Did you get the bad men?? She still had tears coming down her face. He walked past her, but stopped midway.
?Yea....? [/SIZE]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1][B]Name:[/B] Errol Bola, alias the Blood King or E. Bola
[B]Gender:[/B] Male
[B]Age:[/B] 37
[B]Gang:[/B] The Epidemic

[B]Weapon of Choice:[/B] Errol's main weapon is a short, straight-edged Japanese sword, kept in a jet black saya with blood red cord wrapped around it and the hilt. The blade itself has small serrations to make it more dangerous for the opponent. In addition, he carries a supply of throwing blades, and a switchblade hidden in his boot for emergencies.

[B]Specialty:[/B] The real thing that makes the Blood King deadly is that when he gets hurt in battle, he becomes a little bit more deadly. Why? Because his blood containts a low-grade acid that can cause damage to most people but, thankfully, not himself due to a heightened healing rate that can usually keep up with the corrosion.

In addition, his physical capabilities are heightened, namely his strength, which is raised to the point he can drive a knife through bone like it was butter, and his reaction time that occasionally makes things seem like they are moving in slow motion. However, the muscular stress of his physical prowess, coupled with the acidity of his blood, is slowly eating away at his body, killing him.

[B]Appearance:[/B] The Blood King truly seems regal as he strides into a room, standing tall and proud at his impressive full height of 6' 5", his narrow golden eyes hidden behind exspensive sunglasses and his wavy black hair slicked back in utter perfection. His features are sharp and narrow, and the cold air that surrounds him leaves one thinking of him like the knives he cherishes. His skin is a dark honey-color, and is covered in tribal designs.

He is generally seen wearing a blood red silk shirt, over which he has a billowing black trenchcoat with, unsurprisingly, dark red lining. Black slacks and heavy boots finish off his ensemble, with a situdded belt, fingerless gloves, and a heavy silver skull necklace adding an extra touch of danger.

[B]Personality:[/B] Errol is the lord of Bolest, and so he is, rightfully, quite cocky. He exudes charisma from his very skin, and his ego is almost greater than his power. A self-confidant smirk is almost always affixed upon his features, and he knows that the world around is his for the taking. When talking, he always keeps himself the center of attention, speaking in a loud, clear voice that rumbles like thunder.

But when bloodlust fills his veins, his personality shifts. No longer is he a charismatic King, but a sadistic killer who cuts his opponents to shreds but in just the right way to keep them breathing a little bit longer. He knows the right spots to hit, the perfect cut to make to let loose the howls of agony from his opponents throat. Death is his art and blood is his paint, and he will spread his craft across the streets until they are awash in gore.

[B]Bio:[/B] Errol Bola's parents knew they were in for trouble when, at the age of five, the young boy went out in the yard with his father's rifle and shot the first thing he came across - a stray dog - just to see what would happen. Later in life, he'd cite the moment the bullet hit the animal as the moment he fell in love with blood. For the next 32 years, he has escalated in blood lust until becoming the demon he is today.

He was a poor student from day one, not because of lack of intelligence, but because he was the worst kind of trouble maker. He bullied anyone smaller or weaker than him, usually in the most toxic and violent manner possible. In fifth grade, he and a small gang of other boys targeted a new student and, while the others held him down, Errol stole his clothes and gave him a black eye, a bloody nose, and wrote "*****" on his chest in big red letters.

In his spare time, he vandalized local buildings, practiced shooting squirrels when his parents were away, and got in fights with anyone who would stand against him. By the time he reached high school, he was notorious in the city, especially among children. If there was a person in his classes, they were either one of his sycophantic allies, or a target. By now, his acts of violence had accelerated to group beatings, and he now used knives and fire as weapons. His most cherished possession since Junior year has been his switchblade.

It was no surprise that Errol went on to become the Blood King of Bolest city. He traveled the nation for awhile, amassing his followers as quickly as possible, and swiftly rising to the level of Blood King. His new found passion for weapons and murder was brought to further levels by every knife or sword he obtained, and every opponent he left bloody in the streets. Eventually, he returned to Bolest to rule it, with the top members of the Epidemic.

But now, as he coughs up blood after fights, he knows that his time is running out. The self destructive nature of his power is catching up with him, so he'll need to go out fighting. And, and he hears tell of three rival gangs and a group of assassins hired to kill him, he knows just the way to go down.

[B]Writing Sample:[/B] [B]"Oh Jesus...oh, ******* Christ! My eyes! My ******* eyes! What...what the **** did you do to me!?"[/B]

The whimpering man that cowered before the Blood King was huddled over in a corner, clawing at his eyes in a futile attempt to rid them of that painful sting that was rendering him blind. Errol grinned viciously and dragged a finger along the cut on his palm with which he had put the fool in his current condition. The knife he had sliced himself with was already imbedded in his opponent's shoulder, but that probably didn't even register. The acid was already mingling with two people's blood as the fool scratched his face up in frantic agony.

Errol let his boot-clad foot come down hard on the gun his would-be assassin had been wielding. There was a satisfying crunch as the faux-wood-plated hilt cracked and the metal dug into the pavement. This killer had been pathetic, Errol hadn't even had to [I]try[/I] to bat the weapon away, but it was still best not to take risks. With the pistol rendered useless, he stepped forward, sliding his sword from out of it's sheathe.

[B]"Do you know who I am?"[/B] Errol asked in his languid tone. [B]"Well, of course you do. You couldn't live in this city and not know who I am, right? Still, I want you to tell me, who am I?"[/B]

[B]"A killer! A ******* rat!"[/B] The man spat out his insults with pure venom, but all he recieved in return was the loss of his foot. He screamed in utter agony as the blood sprayed forth from severed arteries, drenching the cleanly cut bone in crimson.

"I said, who am I, wretch?" Errol said, raising his weapon again. This time, he'd take the arm.

[B]"E-Errol Bola,"[/B] the man whimpered. Again, he shrieked as he lost his arm, cut off at the shoulder. [B]"******* ****! The King! You're the mother-******* king, alright!"[/B]

The Blood King sneered. A quick learner, this one. But not quick enough. The sword went smoothly into his stomach, and blood bubbled out of his mouth as he moaned, no longer strong enough to cry out.

[B]"Wrong again, little assassin,"[/B] Errol chuckled. He drove the weapon in further, until it burst from the man's back, severing his spine neatly. [B]"I'm God. Tell me, tell me that I am God."[/B]

But he could only gurgle and weep now, his tears turning red as they mingled with the blood. Errol sighed and twisted the sword sharply before drawing it out again. The man fell back, a spasm wracking his body one last time before Errol put him out of his misery with a quick, decapitating stroke. His head rolled slowly away, coming to rest with blinding eyes facing the heavens, his mouth twisted in a final, agonized scream.

Errol took out a cloth and quickly cleaned the blood from his blade. It was swiftly returned to its resting place, and he turned to return to the plush red seat he had been sitting in not ten minutes before. The people facing him were silent, but he merely smiled at the waitress standing beside his chair.

[B]"I gave you my order,"[/B] he said, pleasent tone not even trying to mask the blood lust that still coursed through his veins. [B]"Now, fetch."[/B]

She was gone in an instant, and Errol chuckled to himself. At least assassins were good for something.
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[center][size=1][b]Name: [/b]Project G-173 (although most just call him "G")

[b]Gender: [/b]Male

[b]Age: [/b]36

[b]Gang: [/b]The Experiment

[b]Weapon of Choice: [/b]G doesn't truly need any weapons. He is one of the most powerful hand-to-hand comabatants you are ever likely to find, combining his genetically-enhanced super-strength and speed to make darting, yet bone-breaking blows against his opponent. He can drive his hands through bone and metal, and has an innate knowledge of the human anatomy, making him dangerous to face in combat. He is trained in several different forms of martial art, which he combines to create a deadly fighting style.

However, when circumstances become grave, G has a short sword strapped to his back, although he very rarely needs to use it.

[b]Speciality: [/b]G has the ability to control an amount of a certain type of hormone which is released into his blood. Through the genetic engineering he underwent, this is produced naturally by his pituitary gland. He can release controlled amounts of this hormone into his bloodstream simply through thought.

The effect this hormone gives is to greatly increase his intelligence, as well as his speed and reflexes. This means he can react to things almost twice as fast as a normal human, sometimes even before they have occured. This means he can dodge bullets, predict attacks and think things through much more quickly than usual.

He also has the standard abilities of any super-soldier, namely increased strength and agility, and heightened senses.

[b]Appearance: [/b]G looks normal enough, standing at 6'4", with jet black hair styled into lazy spikes, which occasionally flop down over his face. His eyes are crimson, a by-product of the genetic engineering that allowed him to have such strength. There is a serial number printed on the back of his head, but he has long since allowed his hair to grow over this, hiding a remnant of a past he wishes to forget.

His body is not very muscular, but this lack of muscle structure is made up for by the immense strength stored inside each of his muscles. His body is covered in scars, something which happened unexpectedly during his creation, and he wears a tight black t-shirt and black trousers, with soft-soled black shoes on his feet and a black waist-length jacket, which he hides his short sword under.

His only real physical disfigurements are a set of sharp barbs, formed out of irregular bone structure, which protrude from the skin on his arms, down from his shoulders, where they are larger, to his wrists, gradually getting smaller and smaller as they go down. He also has a set of these barbs running from the base of his neck down to the small of his back, getting bigger into the middle, and then smaller down to the bottom. Usually these barbs are hidden by his clothes, but when he is going into battle, they get longer, and usually rip through any clothing he is wearing.

[b]Personality: [/b]G has been driven partially insane by his genetic engineering. He is now masochistic and unneccessarily violent, but he goes about these traits in a calm, collected sort of way. His icy-cool exterior hides a seething mass of insanity, paranoia and other such mental handicaps.

His mind has blocked out everything, except one thing. Lust for revenge. This is all he can see, all he can think about, all he can do. He searches for revenge in an attempt to regain his sanity, something which a small part of him knows will never happen.

[b]Bio: [/b]Project G-173 is all he has ever known. From his awakening, to his rebellion, to now, all he has known of himself is his serial number. He is a product, an item, not a human being, no longer a man but a weapon, used only for destruction.

He knows that he was a man once, but that is as far as he knows of his past. He was 27 when they began the genetic treatment on him, but he may as well have been a child for all he knows. 9 years, the treatment lasted. 9 years of his life forgotten, destroyed by scientists with no care for his personal health.

He was used as a weapon against the gangs that ruled Bolest City, sent out by the government that created him to destroy those who now ruled over the government.

But his lust for revenge against the men who did this to him took him over. He wanted to find them, to find out his past and then to destroy them. That is all that will make him happy.

But he doesn't wish to die during this quest. He wishes to survive it, and to take his life back. He works ferociously alongside Project D-085, who also wants revenge, but he wishes to perish along with those he kills. His relationship with D is stronger than it is with B or W, as they are both driven by the same thing. But he works in perfect harmony with all three other Experiments.

[b]Character Snippet: [/b]He was crouched atop a telegraph pole, silhouetted against the bright silver moon. He smelt the air, taking in the scent of rubber, iron, canvas. These were washed with the scents of dirt, and blood.

Government troops. Rubber boots, metal body armour, canvas bodysuits, covered in dirt from the ground and blood of their innocent victims. A smile crossed G's thin lips, revealing a mouth full of slightly pointed teeth. It was almost time.

He leapt down from the telegraph pole, landing on the ground with a thud. It was a drop that would have killed any lesser man, but G was a super-soldier, designed to be more tolerant to injury than a human.

He blended into the shadows perfectly, sneaking silently towards the soldiers. They were armed with automatic rifles, grenades, tear gas, and riot shields. This was not enough.

G darted out of the shadows towards the men, the barbs on his arms ripping through the body armour with ease, slicing across their backs. Spines were severed. But when the others turned, he was gone again, leaving only three men, lying on the floor, their spines sliced in two.

[b]"What the hell?" [/b]said the captain, [b]"Everyone, weapons ready!" [/b]The group cocked their rifles, and took aim all around. Hmm. They were well trained. Time to reveal himself.

G stepped from the shadows. The men turned and pointed their rifles at this single figure, who had blades running all the way up his arms.

[b]"Halt! Do not move any closer, or my men will be forced to shoot!" [/b]shouted the captain. G smiled, that devilish smile of his, the fangs in his mouth glinting in the moonlight. He closed his eyes, and, with a single thought, released a small amount of his specialised hormone into his bloodstream. He felt it rush through his body, and suddenly, he could almost tell what the men were thinking.

He took a single step forwards, and the captain shouted:

[b]"I warned you! Fire!"

[/b]The men began to shoot, but their target was gone, now high above them, the blades on his arms rushing towards them. They sliced through metal and flesh, ripping bones apart, tearing limbs from their sockets. All that could be heard were the screams of eleven government soldiers as they were mutilated.

One of them crawled away, the skin almost completely torn from his face. One eyeball was a bloody mess. His left arm had been torn from it's socket, and his right leg was mutilated beyond repair. He crawled desperately away, leaving a thick trail of blood behind him.

[b]"You think you can get away?" [/b]said a harsh voice from above him, [b]"You are far too badly injured to escape." [/b]It was G, standing over him, the head of his captain dangling from his hand, blood pouring from the bottom.

G reached down, and punched his hand through the soldier's plate armour, straight through kevlar, skin and bone, punching through his ribcage to his heart. He felt the soft pulsing of the man's main organ, and squeezed his hand around it...

[b]Finally finished, along with edits you wanted, ULX[/b]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[SIZE=1][B]Name:[/B] James Cartwright aka ?Carnivore?

[B]Gender:[/B] Male

[B]Age:[/B] 32

[B]Gang:[/B] Epidemic

[B]Weapon of Choice:[/B] James doesn?t really carry any heavy weapons; he prefers to tear people a part himself without the use of a gun. He does, however, carry a combat knife. James finds it?s a very useful weapon in close combat and helps cut through the tougher people.

[B]Specialty:[/B] James has strong, sharp teeth, and a powerful bite to go with it. This is also the same with his nails, stronger and sharper than normal, enough to rip the skin off someone?s face if he wanted to. Another animal characteristic is his hair, thick hair on his arms and even on his face that makes him seem more vicious and animalistic. He is stronger than normal, strong enough to hold down his victims while he attacks them. This could be due to his childhood when he would attack and fight with his brothers, but his strength is quite something, a little too much of a something to be just from his violent past.

[B]Appearance:[/B] [URL=http://oneshot.anifics.com/xmen/sabertooth.jpg]Here[/URL]

[B]Personality:[/B] The codename Carnivore is a pretty accurate description of James, especially with his personality. He has an obsession with blood and death, death of other people that is. He doesn?t really care who dies or lives unless they?re on his side, the only people he really cares about is the Epidemic. He?s vicious, angry, sick and twisted, and he doesn?t hesitate to kill people. Though he?s in a group he?ll only take orders from the Epidemic and no one else, there?s no reason to so he shouldn?t have to. He can think for himself, he?s not a mindless killer who kills people when told to, because if someone who could rightfully give him orders told him to commit suicide for no reason, he wouldn?t do it. James won?t do something unless the reason is good enough for him? if it involves killing then it?s always good enough for him.

He?s never been a good person, never been helpful, never wanted to help anyone. He?s always been a very intimidating bully who threw insults at the smaller children and used his advantages properly. He isn?t a man of words or a diplomat, though when he does speak to the enemy it?s never words of encouragement or thanks, it?s always teasing, mockery and anger. He loves to mock people, bully them around if he can, because it makes him feel better and it?s in his nature. Make him angry, though, and he loses his will to talk and begins to wonder how your blood will taste.

[B]Bio:[/B] James comes from a long line of cannibals, pretty unknown throughout the world simply because of the fact that they don?t want people to know about their bloodline. However, James? grandfather was responsible for their last name, Cartwright. Originally it was Cartibeus, but his great grandfather ended up making the name Cartibeus well known with his actions and the fact that they were cannibals wasn?t very well hidden anymore. After the incident with James? grandfather the rest of the family decided there was no need to go around eating other people anymore, thus ceasing their tradition. James was born into a somewhat normal family with two older brothers and two seemingly normal parents, all of which had seemingly forgotten about their original name and what it meant. That wasn?t the case for James. He was very different from them and seemed instinctively determined to carry on the family?s tradition, no matter how sick people thought it was. He started acting more and more like his infamous great grandfather when he was able to walk, run and punch people properly. James would spend a lot of his days picking fights with his brothers, constantly attacking them, biting them and digging into them with his sharp nails. He seemed determined to kill them, and even his parents. James was a vicious boy, he didn?t care about much, and he caused a lot of pain and arguments in his house, as well as a lot of suspicious among neighbours wanting to know what all the fuss was about and why his two brothers ended up with some many cuts. Basically, James was tearing his family apart, piece by piece, and he didn?t care. How he had learned of his family?s past is unknown, all that was certain was that he knew and he was using everything he gained from the past to his advantage.

When James was ten he attacked one of his brothers more viciously than ever before when he gave him a lot of crap. James was angry at the fact that he was being called names and the fact that, despite all his hurting of them, they hadn?t learnt what he could do. At this point it was obvious that his jaw and teeth were stronger than normal, since he successfully ripped his brother?s arm off. This was a terrible sight for his parents and was a terrible lose for his brother, it wasn?t long until James found himself living with his incredibly strict auntie and her champion husband, a weightlifter. James was never close to his auntie, nor were his parents, it was obvious that he was put there to be kept under control, especially since he could never fight off his auntie?s husband. He did try, far too often, and always failed to overpower him.

During his high school years James became a bully, a very good one at that. He was a large boy for his age and didn?t take crap from no one, if they did give him crap he would reply to them by trying to chew off their arms. He hadn?t forgotten what his family used to be, he hadn?t forgotten what he was meant to be, and because of this human blood and death was something he found pleasure him. He had been to numerous high schools, being thrown out of one after the other due to his vicious and violent behaviour. That didn?t stop him. There was one instant during his last year in school when he attacked a girl and lived up to his family?s real name by eating half of her alive. This wasn?t kept quiet so James had no choice but to run away as far as he could and not look back.

Luckily he found a nice place to stay? Bolest City. He made a name there, known for his savage way of killing people and his undying thirst for blood and murder. Whatever he did after that didn?t matter, he had escaped for the authorities and was free to do what he liked, eat what he liked, kill whom he liked.

[B]Writing Sample:[/B] Everyone knew James; he was the big kid, the scary kid, the guy who would get in your way so he could push you out of his. Everyone knew James, and they were all afraid of him, too. People would dare each other just to insult James while he was in the same room, but no one would insult him above a whisper in case he heard. He would attack people when he wouldn?t get caught, he?d force them not to tell on him, but he didn?t care to be honest. It was his last school year; being thrown out would make no difference. He hadn?t learnt anything from school anyway; he was only good at the physical activities.

School used to be fun when it started, there was no respect for James, he had to earn it. In his last year nobody was ready to mess with him, it was kind of boring, to be honest. Though there was always the thrill of a new kid. Sure, people would bully the new kid at every school James had ever been it, but it was a different case for James. New kids in the last year didn?t know what he was capable of, and they always thought that because they were in the last year, too, they could do anything. They had no respect for James because new kids didn?t know him, and no one was going to tell the new kid about James? maybe out of fear, maybe for the entertainment.

John Anderson was the new kid, he was pretty tough, or so he thought. Being a new kid he didn?t want to be pushed around, he only talked to a few people occasionally and he normally knocked someone back when they ran into him on the corridors. Fortunately, he hadn?t had a run in with James? yet.

It was an average, boring day in English, nothing much was happening. Half the class was asleep from Mr. Burn?s babbling? something to do with exams? James didn?t know. He was half asleep himself, seated at the back of the class next to his ?friend?, Peter, the short-*** badass, small kid, big punch. Lucky he was small; James took up most of the table.

?Hey,? James grunted, pushing Peter?s head forcefully. ?Who?s the new kid?? he asked. He knew there was a new guy in school; he just hadn?t bothered to ask who he was.

?You don?t know?? Peter would have laughed, if he were a little taller and about five times stronger. ?Uh, I think he?s called John or somethin?, I dunno. Think?s he?s some kind of hotshot, pushes people back if they knock him, don?t take any ****. A lot like you in your first year if you ask me??

At that remark James slammed his fist down on Pete?s hand, making a loud bang that caused the teacher to look up briefly. James gave him a sarcastic smile when he continued to ramble. ?I?ll put your head on a stick in my garden if you say that again, you little piece of ****!? he snarled. He took Pete?s exercise book and aimed it over at a black haired boy sat at the front. He was fairly tall, causally dressed and seemed like a sort of emo-goth, really. ?Teach him,? he growled. He chucked the book across the classroom and almost jumped up in triumph when it smacked the new kid right on the back of his head. The teacher looked up briefly and eyed James suspiciously.

?Detention.? He stated bluntly. James didn?t care. He was looking at John, who had turned around and was glaring at him hatefully. He looked tough indeed, but he was nothing.

?Loser.? John mouthed from across the room. James? eyes widened.

?That little ******? monster?? he grunted. ?He?s ******? dead meat. I ain?t staying for that stupid detention, I?ll corner the little ****** outside, you wanna watch?? James told Pete. Pete just gave a vacant nod while James cracked his large knuckles. ?Chop suey, he?s chop suey??

There was a part of Pete that wanted to tell James that he didn?t want to watch him dismantle some poor misguided hotshot, but there was a bigger part of him that was afraid to say no. You can?t be friends with James without sacrifices; you can?t be friends with James without enduring a few broken bones now and then.

It was after school, everyone was going home, excluding James, who was waiting for Pete. He limited patient was reaching it?s limit. He didn?t want to beat up the John boy without Pete by his side, it felt good when people were watching. He liked to entertain. Looking down the corridor, James noticed Pete was running up the corridor. James wasn?t waiting anymore; he waved his hand at Pete, an indicator to follow, and made his way towards his victim.

He was leaning against the gates to the school; waiting for a girl he had met whom he had agreed to walk home with everyday for the past week or so. Sarah was her name; they had gotten to know each other pretty well. Why wasn?t she here? She was normally on time. Maybe she had detention? Sighing, he looked over to the main school doors, and watched a large boy come towards him. Ah, he knew him. James. He had never spoken to him, but he wasn?t going to be intimidated.

He whistled at James. ?Hey chicken ****, let?s see how tough you are when you?re fightin?, you big fat bully!? Alright, John had to admit, it wasn?t his best insult, but it certainly got James going. There was even a twinge of fear in John when he saw James run forward.

John tried to smirk proudly when James was right in front of him, actually hoping he would stop and see his smirk, but James didn?t. Like a rhino on a mission, James charged with his hand out, slamming his palm into his victim?s face and digging his claws into John?s hair. He kept charging with John in his grasp until his tiny prey smashed into the wall.

James felt as if John?s skull had crushed under the force, but that wasn?t the case. The blood may have told a different story. ?Chicken?? snarled James. John had gotten up and was making his way towards the road, out of school, out of the school?s hands. ?Oh, and I?m not fat, I?m on a strict diet.? He snarled again, thwacking John with the back of his hand. None stop assault was James? way, so he smacked him again with the back of his fist. And again. And again, until he suddenly felt it seemed a little feminine.

?Jesus Christ! What the hell is wrong with you?? blurted the new kid. James stopped momentarily, and shrugged.

?Uh? I guess I?m a psycho or something.? He said, dumbly. Creativity kicked in at that moment and James grabbed John?s black hair and began to drag him around. ?You?ve got hair like a girl,? he commented. John dropped to the floor and James decided to pull him along. He began to drag the new kid along the roadside, picking up speed as he ran and feeling like some kind of god when he heard jeans ripping and, possibly, skin. He stopped and turned around to see a thin trail of blood on the concrete from John?s back and legs. Well, that wasn?t going to do.

John was quivering, or so it seemed. He wasn?t a hotshot anymore. And James was going to make he had respect from the new guy now. Letting go of John?s hair he stood over John and looked at him. There was a strange urge to remove his skull and taste his blood, an urge James was used to. He grabbed John?s shirt and pulled him closer, like he was going to hug him, but instead he sunk his teeth into his neck, an act of a vampire, a pleasure of a cannibal. He kept at this until he was satisfied, until half the skin and flesh was removed from John?s shoulder blade.

John fell limp on the floor, gasping, moaning and quivering uncontrollably. James wanted to eat him, really, he did, but Pete was coming. He didn?t want to do that in front of a short-*** yet.

?You?ve got a wild temper?? Pete gulped.

James smiled a toothy smile and looked down at John before wiping his mouth. ?Wasn?t hungry today, I guess??[/SIZE]

Eh... sorry about the writing sample length ^_^;; can't help it...
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[size=1][b]Name[/b]: Felix Newlan (Fee-Licks Noo-lehn)

[b]Code Name[/b]: H

[b]Gender[/b]: Male

[b]Age[/b]: 16

[b]Height[/b]: 5?11??

[b]Weight[/b]: 149 lbs.

[b]Gang[/b]: The Professionals

[b]Weapon of Choice[/b]: Two [url=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v673/LanHikari89/blades.png][b]blades[/b][/url] he keeps sheathed on his thighs.

[b]Specialty[/b]: Felix has always been fast, faster then any normal human. He has slightly lower then average strength (still higher then most humans), and his accuracy can falter at times, but his speed more than makes up for both. He?s been known to attack enemies more then 7 times before they realize they are being attacked. He believes that if you can outrun someone and hit them before they realize what?s going, it will create a moment of surprise as well as fear.

[b]Appearance[/b]: Click [url=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v673/LanHikari89/Greysm.png][b]this[/b][/url]. Just ignore the spear.

[b]Personality[/b]: Ruthless. Fast as hell. ?Don?t blink when you?re fighting him. If you do, you?ll probably end up dead on the floor with a pool of blood around you.? He was nice to his friends, and that was about it. He loathed his enemies, whoever they were. He wouldn?t stop until they were dead. His nice personality would have made him a push-over. Luckily, he could and often would scare his friends through means of his speed. He was cocky too, especially if he knew he was better at something then you.

[b]Bio[/b]: Felix was born to a very young family, both his parents only in their very young twenties. His parents were very intelligent and taught him how to speak, study, and walk at a young age. Younger then most children. When he was about 6, he was entered into a Pee-Wee Track & Field team, and instantly fell in love with running. He excelled more then any other child on the team and participated in many events such as Hurdles, Sprints, and occasionally a long-distance event. To be on the team, he had to keep up his grades. The 1st grade was very difficult, but he proved successful and passed with good marks. He stayed on the team for another year, but wanted to quit after only half a year. His mother passed away three weeks before his seventh birthday.

He was devastated; his mother was a very big part of his life. She helped him practice for Track, as well as help him maintain his high grades. After her passing, he wanted to stop Track and almost immediately his grades slowly started to fall. His father, trying as hard as he could to cheer him up, finally succeeded. Felix decided his mother wouldn?t want him to act that way, so he got his grades up again and felt more motivated then ever in Track. Track was a way for him to forget about everything. He had gotten much faster then the other children.

Six years passed, not a problem in the world. His father would try to help him out in anyway possible, and he loved him for it. He enrolled in a special academy that not only taught him everything school did, but also the ways of combat.

He was happy with his life. When he thought about his mother though, a pain would shoot into his heart. It was a painful reminder of his past. Other then that, he was satisfied with life right now. Except for the occasional girl problem and difficult subject in school. He was 13, and was going into High School. Slightly worried, he tried to be as friendly as he could without being a push-over. He made friends with a lot of kids in his and other grades, especially the kids that were in their Junior and Senior year. High School was much more difficult then he anticipated, but he still kept up a 3.84 G.P.A. High School was also more difficult in two other ways. He had to keep up his grades to be on both the Track and the Combat team. Because High School separates sports into different seasons, he had to wait until the Spring Season, the last season, to run in Track. He made the Varsity Team his freshman year, and impressed many people by getting first in almost all of his events. He was above average in combat, but his speed is what truly impressed people. While training one day, he got a letter. A very simple one, plain as well. All it had said was the following: ? ?The Professionals? would like to invite you to take a test. The test will take part on the 15th of XX, will be at 8:00 AM, and you will be required to bring a weapon of your choice. Be prepared.?

Confused, he went that day to where he was told to go. A lone man was there and gave Felix a letter. ?Kill me, and my three companions. If you do, you will be accepted.? He didn?t understand, but did as the letter told him. He did so, and the battle was an incredibly difficult one. He came out with scars on his shoulders and chest. He was accepted though, and that was what mattered. He quit school, his father moved to a large city, and he stopped being nice. He then became a ruthless killer with unfathomable speed. He loved the rush of heading towards a kill. He changed.

[b]Writing Sample[/b]: I?ll put this up soon; I?m still working on it.


[b]Note:[/b] [b]Blades[/b]=Picture of Weapon
[b]This[/b]=Picture of my appearance

I noticed some people didn't post up what gang they intended to be in. Are we not supposed to?

I'll edit anything if need, Xion.[/size]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]A few notes:

[B]Blayze[/B] - Two things, actually. First of all, after reviewing the names for the Experiment and Professionals, I'm thinking having it be H-173 might get a little confusing with the H in the professionals. This is my fault, but I kindly request you switch the H to another letter. Might get a little confusing. Also, the Experiment are supposed to look inhuman, if only slightly. A few cosmetic enhancements should fix things right up.

[B]Lan[/B] - The character of P is reserved, but H is still open. Hopefully, the nominal change won't alter things too terribly much for you...?

Also, in general, there are quite a few "speed" specialities, I'm noting. I'm editing mine to add a little variation to things, and it would be nice if a few other good samaritans could, as well. Having 5 lightning fast warriors and maybe 3 with other powers would get a little redundant, wouldn't it?

Given the number of sign ups already posted, I'm thinking I'll start this up sometime next week. Keep your eyes peeled.[/SIZE][/COLOR]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[size=1][color=#7D8593][B]Name-[/B] Raymond ?R.J.? Jackson Junior; also known as the Witch Doctor
[B]Gender-[/B] Male
[B]Age-[/B] 31
[B]Gang-[/B] The Virus
[B]Weapon of Choice-[/B] R.J., more often than not, has no need to use weapons and prefers to use his body and mind as a weapon but when it comes to it, the [B][URL=http://world.guns.ru/handguns/turk_kanunis.jpg]Kanuni S[/URL][/B] has the decency to help him out of trouble, which is kept in a holster on his left waist.

R.J. also carries around [B][URL=http://www.syracusewingchun.com/butterfly.jpg]Butterfly Swords[/URL][/B] that are carefully sheathed in a black scabbard. Along with that, R.J. has assortments of spike darts which can allow him to do many things.

[B]Specialty-[/B] R.J., one of the Virus gang members, has powers dealing with the mind. His powers include telekinesis, telepathy, clairvoyance, and other mind-dealing powers. These powers came to R.J. at a young age and since then have begun to grow, allowing him to control and master them but also, giving him new ones as well. At times, it becomes a strain for R.J. if he should use a power near its limit, as well as using newfound power. Strange enough, though, he also has the ability to mirror others? powers with and in essence, become their equal but this can only put a strain to him as it takes great energy to concentrate whereas the mirrored person has had years of control.

Other than having these mental abilities, R.J. is peculiarly in tune with the weather; as if he were a forecast or foreshadowing what was to come. He also has a slight ability of using the weather to his advantage though it is very slim. As well as having strange powers and abilities, R.J. is a spectacular medical technician who could diagnose a person without knowing their heart rate, age, and whatnot.

[B]Appearance-[/B] [URL=http://img397.imageshack.us/img397/5238/kiros3yw.jpg]R.J.[/URL]
Standing at an even 6 feet, R.J. has a fair complexion considering that he is mostly African-American with Italian descent. One could say that he is ?Tall, Dark, and Handsome,? the very few qualities that women love about a man. He loves to wear formal yet casual clothes, the type that can be worn anytime and still appear decent. His favorite attire consists of his faded jeans, white undershirt, striped polos or dress shirts, and ends it with a black blazer. There are times, though, that R.J. will mix up the look with whatever he can find, which is always what happens. R.J. has several tattoos- one located under his forearm, two bands on each upper arm, and four on his back, and several piercing- two on his brow, left cartilage, and two on each lobe.

[B]Personality-[/B] By far, R.J. is possibly the most level-headed, calm, and rational member of the Virus gang, if not the only, as well as one of the oldest. He has a cheerful smile that could light up a room, which can be very unusual for vengeance-ridden ex-Epidemic soldiers, but nonetheless he tries to make the best out of every situation, no matter how bad they can get. For R.J., there are no surprises in life, to him, God had already used the good surprises on him already and left him with the bad.

To the world, R.J. may seem like an innocent person who probably is the joker of the group, but to those that know him, see that he is beyond the innocence any longer. Due to great numbers of traumatic events in his life, R.J. left his childhood years ago and became the man that he is now, a person who uses the better terms of life by using the bad to do good but a part of him has been dormant for so long and those that know him wonder when he would snap and that dormant, hibernating part awaken.

[B]Bio-[/B] [B]Bio-[/B] Camden, New Jersey, the most dangerous city under Bolest City, where there was nothing but criminal activity. It was a city where policemen weren?t capable of making the streets safe, a city where violent crimes, murder, and robbery occurred almost every day, but it was also a city where many miracles were born. One miracle was called Raymond Jackson Junior, a baby boy who was early in his birth but happened to be a healthy baby when born. Though growing in a vile city, R.J. had a close relationship with his parents, who were the only family that lived in Camden. They cared for each other and took care of each other, which taught R.J. good virtues. He watched his family through learning eyes, understanding and experiencing each and every different movement, emotion, and talk that came to him. He soaked everything that his family unintentionally and intentionally taught him to a great degree.

Yet around the age of eight, R.J.?s parents were murdered in cold blood while walking through the park with R.J. swinging between them. He was traumatized greatly, questioning why this had happened to him and who would do such a thing to two people who tried their hardest to turn Camden into a better city. R.J. couldn?t comprehend with that fateful night and with no one to go to in Camden; he was sent to his grandmother who lived in Bolest City. It was a year later in Bolest City that he had begun to experience a great change within him. This was the beginning of his transformation, changing him into who he is now.

Fear began to consume R.J.?s grandmother and she had no choice but to send him to an academy that would help him control his ?witchcraft?, as some call it. Yet, unbeknownst to the two of them, the academy wasn?t exactly a helpful center but more of a disciplinary detention that would turn children into stoic robots. It was at this academy that seemed to torment R.J. vigorously, giving him this tortured mind filled with unwanted mental pictures of what he has to experience everyday.

Years have gone by and R.J. still remembers the days at the academy. He hasn?t a clear idea as to how he escaped that hellhole but he knows he wouldn?t return to it and go through the life he had to live again. It was clear, though, the name that he received while there, it was probably the only thing that he remembered that was significant. They called him the Witch Doctor and to this day, he could still hear the agonizing screams that rang out like bells on a summer day, tearing apart the mental and psychological beings of the people that had begun their work. It was still vivid but to this day, R.J. hadn?t ever unlocked a shred of that part of him again, but there is no doubt in his mind and everyone else?s that the lock which closed that part would open and wreak havoc.

[B]Writing Sample-[/B][/size][/color]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[SIZE=1][B]Name:[/B] Dante Greyman
[B]Codename:[/B] V
[B]Gender:[/B] Male
[B]Age:[/B] 28
[B]Gang:[/B] The Professionals
[B]Weapon of Choice:[/B] Dante is a man who prefers to use his hands. He makes the most of every shot, striking at vitals or vulnerable spots on the opponent every time. His agility allows him to land a rapid succession of strikes to an opponent, which can be devastating. His fists serve as gauntlets of a sort when his skin hardens, so the blows rained upon his opponents never ruin his precious skin that woman find so attractive.

He holds to secondary weapons, though. One is a beautifully adorned dagger that rests at his left side. He usually uses this if he needs to perform a swift kill, in which case he will sneak up behind his opponent and slit their throat. At his right side is his handgun, and that rarely ever sees any action.

[B]Specialty:[/B] Dante?s powers aren?t so different from Kain?s. His senses are heightened, especially his eyesight. His vision gives him pinpoint accuracy, and he his heightened hearing allows him to hear everything, even the sound of an attack from behind. He isn?t fast, however. He?s just agile and stealthy, giving off the illusion of great speed. The true ace he has in combat is his increased skin density.

He can harden his skin during battle, causing it to become as tough as steel. This ability is useful in hand-to-hand combat as it provides his punches with a little more power, and negates most damage done by blades and bare fists. His skin does little to protect against bullets. The genetic make-up that tightens and strengthens his skin decomposes when exposed to bullets.

[B]Appearance:[/B] [URL=http://hyung-taekim.org/displayimage.php?album=24&pos=37][Dante][/URL]
He retains his youthful handsomeness, and his aura is seductive and persuasive regardless of whom he meets. He stands at 6? 1??, with beautiful black hair that has blue-gray streaks in it. His eyes are a majestic crimson color, and are very enticing, but usually rest behind a pair of square-rimmed lightly tinted shades with cross designs on the sides of it. His body is well-toned, and though he isn?t of body-builder status, you?d be hard-pressed to find any fat on his body.

His usual attire is that of a businessman?s, as he prefers to look slick and professional. His outfit is always pressed and well-kept, even if he doesn?t plan on wearing it for long. On his left wrist is an expensive silver-black watch, around his neck is a silver cross with a silver-black chain, and on the middle finger of his right hand he houses a ring with three silver crosses, silver borders, and a black, gravelly background.

[B]Personality:[/B] Dante is a cool, collected strategist in every aspect. In battle, his moves are precise, accurate, and almost impossible to predict. Though his movements appear random to opponents, every move flows directly into another, and he can easily predict a battle through to the tiniest detail if provided with a decent amount of information about his opponents. He?s very rarely taken by surprise, and if he is, he regards the battle with more intrigue and excitement.

The same could be said outside of battle. His seductive mannerisms allow him to chord along any woman he so desires into his bedroom. He elaborately weaves his way with women, and is known to be seen at bars almost every night of the week. He has a high alcohol tolerance, so he can seemingly drink without end. To his comrades Professionals he is faithful and loyal, and he is quite close to Kain, despite that fact that they do not often see eye to eye.

[B]Bio:[/B] Dante was a gymnast and was skilled in aerobics as a child. He was light as a feather, despite his normal appearance. He would challenge children at his school and make bets on the fight, always for himself. He won every battle he was ever engaged in, regardless of the size of his opponent. Eventually people stopped betting altogether, as no one would bet on his enemy. He grew weary of his countless wins and diverted his attention to school work, attempting to become a scientist.

His school years were relatively boring after that. His studies were no problem, not a student at the school nor man he had come across could best him, and he could have his pick of any woman he pleased, despite only being 16. He decided that he needed some excitement, and bargained away his abilities to the whichever gang was the highest bidder. He did this for four years, until eventually the government hired him to attack a gang during one of it?s meetings. However, when he reached the destination for his ?mission? he was confronted by a series of traps and a horde of government officials.

He easily made quick work of them all, and he was thus confronted by an important government official, who offered him a job as the leader of The Professionals, a government gang of sorts. He happily accepted, thinking of this as a way to better challenge himself, and as a good chance to meet women. He was brought back to government headquarters where his training was continued, and he was placed under a succession of tests to validate his abilities and that he was worthy of the status of Leader of the Professionals.

He has been doing this for 8 years, until yet another chance at adventure came to him. He and the other Professionals were ordered to take care of the ?Gang Problem? in Bolest City. The very offer caused him to lick his lips with lust. The City was a breeding ground for chaos, and the woman there were more beautiful and aggressive than any others in the country. He could have his fill of bloodshed and sex all in one day. He made haste to the city, and took to the streets right away. He?ll have his fun, and he won?t let anyone stop him

[B]Writing Sample:[/B] Dante rolled over in the hotel bed and ran his hand down the side of the woman laying beside him. Light shone through the blinds of his room, illuminating the woman?s beautiful features. She was smoking a cigarette between her pearly white teeth, one would wonder how she maintained them. She looked down at Dante, bent over and kissed him on the lips. She put out the cigarette and gently twirled her index finger in circles over his chest.

[B]?That was wonderful, V. Hmmm?I?d say I owe you a little something later on.?[/B] Dante flashed his teeth and licked the woman?s ear before grabbing his cup of wine and taking a long drink. The woman stood up elegantly, her naked body a wondrous sight to behold. She strode tantalizingly over to the bathroom and twirled around. She bent over so that her chest swayed, and she blew him a kiss.

[B]?I?ll be taking a shower now, but don?t be a stranger. I would love the help.?[/B] She walked off, leaving Dante grinning to himself. He sprung out of bed and dressed quickly, making sure all of his things were gathered. He removed every trace of himself from the room and drew his handgun. He looked to the bathroom regretfully.

[B]?A shame to deprive the world of such a beauty.?[/B] He walked into the bathroom slowly. The water was running loudly, and the room had already steamed up. Her voice flittered from behind the shower curtain.

[B]?Baby, is that you? Well come on in, then!?[/B] She opened the curtain only to stare face to face with Dante?s handgun. Before she could scream he shot her twice in the head, and blood sprayed onto the shower wall. Her limp body fell gracefully to the floor, but she still made quite a ruckus. Though blood dripped down her face, she still looked beautiful. A noise from outside of the room caught his attention, and he bent down and kissed her forehead.

[B]?Thanks for the good time.?[/B] He sprung up, putting his handgun back in place, and confronted her bulky bodyguards. They were both massive men, but they wouldn?t be able to touch him. The first man pulled out a gun, but when he looked up, Dante was gone, and then suddenly the man was on his back. Before he could question what happened, his neck was slit and he could no longer talk. The other stared on in horror until a foot connected squarely with his jaw, sending him spiraling backwards. A series of blows struck him in the face afterwards. He was disoriented and could barely think, but he hear one last thing before everything went black.

[B]?Do you know how to fly??[/B] Dante spun around and kicked the goon right in the chest, launching the giant from the thirty story window. Dante sheathed his blade and dusted off his hands, then spun on his heel and casually walked from the hotel room.


[B]OOC:[/B] I hope everything is in order, ULX. PM me if you need anything changed.[/SIZE]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[SIZE=1]Spence, Trevor saved P for me, silly. He mentioned it before the sign up form.

[B]Name:[/B] Poe 'P' Leo. Due to her unfortunately cute first name, P only goes by her code name.
[B]Gender:[/B] Female
[B]Age:[/B] 32
[B]Gang:[/B] The Professionals
[B]Weapon of Choice:[/B] P uses a variety of weapons, each of them fitting into whatever kind of complex battle plan P formulates. Her first weapon of choice, and the one she uses most often, is a black [URL=http://www.weprintcolor.com/stockimages/construction/images/Black%20metal%20crowbar.jpg][B]crowbar[/B][/URL]. P isn't a person to slowly go into a battle--she rushes in without a care in the world and the crowbar has always seemed to fit this trait perfectly.
Her two minor weapons are poison darts and a stun gun, both of which she uses to paralyse her targets. The blow darts are slim and silver, each of them containing enough poison to render a grown man immoveable within seconds. P is an expert shot and could hit her target from 150 feet away.

[B]Specialty:[/B] P's fascination of paralysis is helped incredibly by her speciality. That being her ability to aim like no-one else. She has exceptional eyesight and her accuracy is rivalled by no one else. She has studied human anatomy for years and knows exactly what spots to hit with her darts, making her a deadly opponent.

[B]Appearance:[/B] [URL=http://hyung-taekim.org/displayimage.php?album=12&pos=0][B]P[/B][/URL]
A note about her appearance: P is, as some would politely put it, a little odd. When in battle, she tends to form a rather manic grin and an unmissable spark in her eye. If one weren?t being so polite, they'd tell you she was a crazy woman.

[B]Personality:[/B] P is considered to have some sort of a split personality. While socialising, which she enjoys doing frequently, P is charming and smiling, a woman full of confidence and happiness. She's a people person and an expert at starting conversation. She can squeeze even a few laughs from the most serious business men and is in her element when at large events and parties.

However, once in combat, the other side of P is seen. The crazy side. Her expression changes as she heads into a battle and anyone who's heard the rumours would run as soon as possible, preferring not to find out if P lives up to her nickname of 'Slaughterhouse'. She has no style and no form of fighting and uses her crowbar in a most horrific way. When P is finished with her opponent, the only thing left to show that they're human would be their DNA. P, quite literally, looses her mind at the sight of blood and goes into frenzy. The other professionals know to stay well away...just in case.

P, being the generous person she is, will always buy the drinks and invite people out for dinner. After she's got the blood out of her hair.

[B]Bio:[/B] P, despite her chattiness, isn't usually one for talking about her past. She doesn't consider it to be traumatising and she wasn't beaten as a child...she just doesn't think her hunting trips and butchery work wouldn't interest most people.

She was raised by a quiet and modest mother and a popular, amusing father. Both parents were doting and loving and treated their only daughter to whatever she wanted. Then there was her grandfather.

He had been a soldier, or so he told P's parents. In fact, he'd been an interrogator for a secret underground agency working amongst all sorts of criminals and warlords. Interrogation in those kinds of groups usually involves torture, then questions.

At the age of 16, P made the mistake of expressing her interest in war history and asked her Grandfather about his past while she was staying with him. He believed she was of the right age and, guessing she would understand his stories, told her everything. That day changed the girl's life and something inside of her had changed.

She didn't change visually, but for the next five years, 'evil' P was brewing inside the girl. While she isn't clinically insane, her love of fighting and bloodshed would lead others to believe otherwise. Her grandfather frequently took her on hunting trips to improve her skills and was amazed by the teenager?s exceptional aim. P also worked on a farm with her grandfather during the summer holidays, helping with the animals, both alive and dead. Working with knives wasn't really for P, she preferred throwing things.

Occasionally P will write to her grandfather and tell him her thrilling tales. She also writes home to her parents, informing them of how well she's doing as an interior designer. They're very proud of her.

[B]Writing Sample:[/B] P leant against a table top, silently watching two men playing a game of cards. V and H looked at each other sternly, a smirk hidden behind both of their gazes. P usually watched their games, despite the fact she had no idea what was going on most of the time.

[B]"So..."[/B] she began, but was silenced by a look from H. She mumbled something about drinks and went off to fetch some, wondering where T had gotten to. Ten minutes later she returned to her fellow Professionals and set the drinks down, thanked by a couple of nods and grunts.

[B]"Jeez, you guys talk like there's no tomorrow..."[/B] the woman sighed, flicking some hair out of her eyes. "Liven up, will you?"

[B]"You know I can be lively..."[/B] V began, but H cut him off.
[B]"Indeed, and I don't think we want to go there."[/B]

P giggled and sipped at her soda water, watching the game once again as if she knew what was going on.

Lately she hadn't had much to do...nothing she viewed as interesting, anyway. The boys always had fun picking a few bar fights and cracking drunken skulls, but that kind of thing wasn't for a lady like P...cracking skulls had become tiresome a few weeks ago, and now she wanted a [I]real[/I] fight. A fight she could really feel burning in her blood and testing her muscles to the limit. A fight like the one T had been talking about...

[B]Note:[/B] P isn't really crazy, per se, just thought I'd point that out. She's a sweet girl, honestly.[/SIZE]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[color=darkslategray][size=1][b][Name.][/b] Gin "The Fox" Montergra.

[b][Codename / Nickname.][/b] Fox, Rum. Prefers the name Gin.

[b][Gender.][/b] Male.

[b][Age.][/b] 29.

[b][Gang.][/b] The Virus.

[b][Weapon of Choice.][/b] Gin uses a simple sword. The saya is laquered with red, and the blade itself is a bloody red splashed with the normal steel color. A small rune is etched in continuation along the blade's length, varying by one or two extra lines. Deceptively simple, Gin has used it for years and years without being killed, and the blade not being damaged beyond repair. He calls it Shinsou, which in japanese means, Divine Spear.

He has also studied seveal forms of martial arts, and had an operation in which he had parts of his bone drilled out in his hands, and metal stubs inserted that had spikes on the tips that make his punches deadly as a heavy blow with a finely-crafted mace. If he leaves the stubs out, the bone and the skin will reform within mintues, and can be opened again quite easily upon a simple word, due to the special nature of the procedure. This, however, slowed his recovery time on everything else and takes him approxmiately twice as long as the normal human to recouperate.

Shinsou uses one of his most special abilities, however...
[b][Speciality.][/b] Gin "The Fox" calls one of his special abilites the Dance of the Snake. Shinshou becomes immensely flexible, and becomes like quicksilver, able to cover any distance by elongating itself. The blade seems to permenately stay in this for for as long as it wants to. This is an incredibly useful technique.

Another one of his skills is to "Teleport." Gin wills all of the particles of his body to a location he has seen, and he moves there. This drains a minimal amount of power, almost too miniscule. If he uses to go too far though, he has to rest before attempting to move again.

[b][Personality.][/b] Gin has two reasons for being called The Fox. The first is his "Teleportation", which leads him to be extremely cocky. And his face...it seems to be stuck in a permenant smile. What he is smiling about is always secret to most, but he's happy and cheerful at all times, and not even death of friends will wipe the wide smile off of his face. The only thing that can deter his cheery look on life is if you either take away his blade, or you take away his drinks. Then Gin can get ruthelessly violent until he gets them back, in which he reverts to his normal, overhappy self.

This has lead most people to think that he's bipolar, but he simply smiles and tells them that it isn't so in his wonderful drawling accent. One thing that he loves along with hard beverages and swordplay is women. They find him adorable, and he's taken this as inspiration to become a skirt-chaser and a romanticist. Indeed, Gin "The Fox" deserves his title, and is a very complex man.

[b][Apperance.][/b] [url=http://img29.imageshack.us/img29/9581/ginken3wv.jpg][Here.][/url] Gin is the one on the top left, with the smile. The man below, Ken, was killed years ago in an accident.

Gin wears most things that he owns as two styles: Simple and elegant, with a touch of comfort. Around the house and his fellow Virus, his robes are his most chosen attire. When going out in public, he trades in the comfort for casual, donning a white undershirt and a black button up shirt, leaving the top at his neckline open. Along with those shirts, he wears dark blue jeans with a pair of Vans shoes, tan in color.

[b][Biography.][/b] Gin Montergra was born in not where you'd think, exactly. He was born in Japan, but soon was exiled at the age of 14 for killing a man after the accident that took his friend's life. His last name was different, but he changed it upon entering the united states. He had been studying english from the age of 5, when he was learning Japanese at the same time. He's rather proficent in both and his accent made them ask no questions when he was coming from Japan, and told the airport security that he was a tourist returning from Japan.

In the city of New York, things were brewing in Gin's insidious mind that were just wrong, from drugs and fights on the streets for more drugs, becoming a hired assassin at arms, to the occasional woman that he made time for before she was killed by another man to deter Gin from his job. However, he had an unwavering loyalty to his clients, and he soon gave up the drugs to better protect the women he had loved-and himself. Many guess it's at this time that his joyful personality kicked in and he became the man that he is today.

From New York, a job brought him to Bolest City and the Epidemic. They accepted him with open arms, and he was moving through the crowd quickly, establishing himself as the one that would never be shoved down. However, he began to see the flaws in their system, and how they were tearing the city apart too fast and with too much wild abandon. He tried to leave but was hooked in until he commited the ultimate treason and killed one of the old members, and was soon kicked out.

From there, Gin wandered for what seemed like ages, using his incredible funds from his Epidemic days to sustain him and his hotel rooms that he rented. Whispers of an organization called the Virus, formed of Ex-Epidemic, reached his ears after a while. The prospect at bringing Epidemic appealed to him and he soon joined. Since those days, he's become much more strong, and slightly more inclined to drink.

[b][Writing Sample.][/b] [i]They were all around, eyeing him with poison filled glances. Gin just kept smiling. With his eyes upwards as he smiled, it looked like he wouldn't be able to see a thing. The deep and audible roar of gunfire echoed around the walls. Was it the Illz, was it those one guys...the Professionals, was it some underlings hired by someone else? Either way, he'd kill them all. It was a simple exercise for him as he stood there. Hell, Gin even sat down on a bench and pulled out a small thing of liquor, taking a drink as one of them decided to strike.[/i]

As they brought the makeshift weapon down on Gin's head, he drew Shinsou and easily blocked it, as upon impact the blade flashed and elongated to a distance over 4 feet long. He took another drink and set it on the bench, turning his gaze upwards to the attacker. That damn smile was permeated on Gin's face, and it would be etched in the mind of the man that tried to kill him for as long as he lived.

[b]"So, kid...who's ya leada' n' all that?"[/b] The accent of Gin's must of surprised the young kid, because his face froze up for a second and then he scowled, aiming a kick at Gin's kidney. Gin giggled and threw the kid up into the air a short ways, and letting him fall to the ground. Before picking him up, Gin reajusted his shirt and pants as they had gotten slightly discomfortable from the sudden action. He picked up the young man and asked again.

[b]"Kid, c'mon, jus' gotta tell me who's ya leada'. Not 'dat hard, y'naw?"[/b] The young man before him seemed determined as he twisted himself up, locking his legs around Gin's arm and snapping back suddenly. Gin dropped him and the kid smiled triumpantly.

[b]"Auden's my name. I'm the leader."[/b] Gin had a classic look of, "What the ****, mate?" on his face. He shrugged and blinked, and the smile never left his face. However, the kid lept at him, pulling out a hidden and obviously not imitation, kunai. He nicked Gin's side. Gin opened his eyes then, showing them his crimson-colored eyes. He didn't stop smiling though, no. He pointed his finger at Auden as he grasped Shinsou and the blade shot out, tracing up his arm. Gin had lined it with poison he had made earlier that day.

Gin looked around at the group of high schoolers before him. One of the girls cought his eye, with three necklaces and a white ribbon in her brown and black, laquered with random blond, hair. He closed his eyes again and sheathed Shinsou as it melded itself into a small pocket knife.

[b]"What's yer name, littl' girl? I's think I recognize ya from's somewhere...black arms deala', mebbe?"[/b]

[b]"Syris."[/b] She said rather silently and Gin turned his foot, laughing on the inside as his lips curled even more into that sadistic [i]smile.[/i] If the Illz were this weak, but had an arms dealer with them, this could be fun...much more fun than he had though. Bringing a hand through his silver-white hair, he retired for the day.[/color][/size]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[SIZE=1]A fascinating little RPG Trevor, I look forward to taking part should I make the grade.

[B]Name:[/B] W-902, chosen designation, Boland.

[B]Gender:[/B] Male.

[B]Age:[/B] 34 years, 5 months and 3 days.

[B]Gang:[/B] The Experiment.

[B]Weapon of Choice:[/B] [URL=http://www.heckler-koch.de/media/Produkte/psg1.jpg]Heckler & Koch PSG-1[/URL]. Some say there's no honour in the way Boland kills, that unless he can see the fear in the eyes of his enemy up close before he dies then he is no different from a murderer, and thus he has no honour. Boland disagrees however, it's his belief that true fear is not exposed in close quarters combat, that when you slide a knife into your foe's jugular he's already resigned himself to his fate, and what you see is not his fear of you, but his fear of the beyond. For Boland killing is different, he is the personification of death itself, cold, silent and utterly final, when the round leaves the chamber he doesn't even blink, and when that bullet cuts through his enemy's heart then you see true fear, the fear of a man who hasn't even realised he's dead.

[B]Specialty:[/B] Like each super soldier created, Boland was forged to be the perfect weapon, a weapon capable of hitter harder, faster and more lethally than any soldier that came before him. But each member of The Experiment was not intended to become an army of one, each would compensate the weaknesses of the unit with the strengths of the one, thus Boland was trained to be the greatest marksman the Earth had ever seen, to kill from such great distances that he might as well be God. However where he is truly different from his brothers lies in the absolute control he wields over his bodily functions, his ability to increase the accuracy of his sight to near telescopic levels, to control his heart-rate and pulse to simulate death, to slow down his metabolism as to go days without food and water if necessary without suffering ill effects. Combined with his training, he is the perfect sniper.

[B]Appearance:[/B] [url=http://adventkane.250free.com/Pearce.jpg]Boland[/url].

[B]Personality:[/B] It is said that the greatest marksmen on Earth are those comfortable with spending long periods of time in isolation, those capable of extreme patience, and finally and most obviously, those who are very self reliant. What is not said, is that the best snipers in the world have to be utterly devoid of emotions, a sniper cannot hate his target, cannot feel remorse for having eliminated his target and most certainly not become angry should the target manage to evade the shot. While undergoing his genetic enhancement, Boland was also trained to suppress every natural emotion he had ever felt, fear, joy, sadness, lust, wrath, all completely blocked out, and all done completely voluntarily. Subject W-902 now demonstrates extreme tranquillity with his surroundings, polygraph analysis of his reactions to arousing, amusing, distressing, pleasant and saddening images are nil.

[B]Bio:[/B] "[B]Who are you ? How did I get here ?[/B]" Most people would have been terrified to ask those two questions, maybe I should have been too. He looked down on me with a kind of humoured expression, as though he was entirely too pleased with himself, it was obvious I was in some kind of military facility, as it was also obvious that this man was some kind of military scientist. "[B]You don't remember coming here ?[/B]" His accent was Austrian, but his pronunciation indicated his English had been picked up outside his native land, I decided to play along, see exactly what he knew and then work my way from there. "[B]No, perhaps you'd be kind enough to refresh my memory.[/B]" The statement was genuine, I just hoped he'd answer. "[B]Well you were recommended for the program by your commanding officer, and when we approached you about it you seemed eager, and volunteered. From there it was a simple journey to this facility, where we have been conducting medical tests to gauge your suitability for this endeavour.[/B]" He snapped his fingers, as the answer to my memory problems had hit him. "[B]Ah ! I just remembered, that tranquilliser we gave you may have caused some short term memory loss, my apologies for the inconvenience.[/B]"

I exhaled slowly, as if yawning. "[B]And what endeavour would that be doctor ?[/B]" He gave me a toothy smile, a smile that set off every alarm in my head. "[B]Well your government is conducting this research to create the next generation of soldier, conventional training, combined with gene therapy will hopefully provide troops highly superior to even the most specialised veterans. Sadly there may be some memory loss, however given the potential gains one would have to look at this as a great opportunity, think about it, from you perhaps the next generation of super soldier, that is, the generation after you, may be created.[/B]" One by one the alarms in my head began to quieten, I didn't trust this doctor, but I couldn't sense he was lying, and if what he was saying was try then I agreed with him. I thought about what I might be giving up, mom, dad, my childhood, the memories of my service, and the more I thought about it, the more my doubts got smaller and smaller. "[B]When do we begin ?[/B]" He looked at me somewhat baffled, as though I was the first person to actually not give a **** about potentially losing my entire life up until this moment. After a moment however he just shrugged his shoulders and smiled happily, "[B]We can begin immediately...[/B]"

"[B]Subject W-902, are you fully aware of your mission ?[/B]" I knew this voice, I just couldn't place from where or when, but I did know what he was talking about. Bolest City, Epidemic, and my mission to kill them and anyone else who threatened the mission. "[B]Yes sir.[/B]" I couldn't see him through the glass, and his voice had been put through a synthesiser to mask whoever might have actually been speaking, but it was something in the pronunciation that seemed familiar. The rest of the conversation involved my own specifics in the mission, each subject had been assigned a particular target, one that most suited their particular talents, my target was Errol Bola, AKA King Blood. Forty-eight hours later I found myself staring at the desolation that was Bolest City, I didn't concern myself with the expressions of the other operatives, we had a mission to do complete and that was my only concern.

[B]Writing Sample:[/B] Bolest City, Day 67, Judgment Day.

I found an abandoned church this morning, in truth I?d stumbled upon it by accident while scouting potential vantage points or perhaps I didn?t stumble upon it at all, and was in fact guided to this sacred ground for a reason. The doors hadn?t been opened in months, perhaps years, and the stench of decay was so well preserved you?d think the killing inside had only occurred hours previously. I waded through so many dead bodies, men, women, children, the elderly and newborns, it had been a massacre, a massacre committed no doubt at the behest of some leader and carried out by his willing lackeys, how many families had died here in the sight of God ? By the time I reached the alter, the tears had already started to roll down my cheeks, I can?t say I was sad however, I don?t know what sad is anymore, maybe my heart just felt what I couldn?t. Poor bastard, he?d had his throat slit from ear to ear, and what was left of him wasn?t a pretty sight, but it was enough to help me make up my mind.

?[B]I?m out.[/B]? I was probably the last to actually decide to desert but the first to voice my decision out loud. ?[B]What the **** d?you mean ?[/B]" D had been the first to respond, as I?d expected, that lunatic was more concerned with her eventual glorious death than she was with the mission, with eliminating the Epidemic. ?[B]I mean I?m done, done with taking orders on who to kill, and done with killing altogether.[/B]? Most people would try to mask their blunt confession with some kind of intimidating expression on their face, but genuinely I wasn?t concerned with what they thought of me, in the end I had to justify my sins to God and God alone, and I wasn?t prepared to continue killing people for any cause other than his. ?[B]I know the rest of you have experienced the same doubts I have, doubts about why we?re doing this, all I ask is that you be honest with yourselves.[/B]"

?[B]So you?re out, that mean you?re out of the unit too ?[/B]? A long time ago I became wary of G, underneath all that cool exterior was a furnace or rage, or insanity, but today was just another day in his books, and the question was just another question. ?[B]No, I?m in until the mission is completed, until E. Bola and Epidemic lie dead at our feet.[/B]? I held his gaze unflinching, we just stared at one another for what appeared to be hours, until finally his nodded his head ?[B]Thought so.[/B]? B and D just looked on, probably assessing their own decisions, but whatever their thoughts I wasn?t really concerned, Bolest City was an easy place to disappear in, even for a super soldier. ?[B]I?m off for a while, anyone want anything brought back ?[/B]? They shook their heads, our hideout wasn?t the most glamorous of places, but abandoned military property had the advantage of being left abandoned, at least most of the time, and it gave us a place to plan out exactly what we were going to do. The rain outside was angry, pelting down against man, animal, anything that dared walk the streets in this weather. I kick-started the motorbike, and headed back to the church...[/SIZE]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

[size=1][color=slategrey][b]Name.:[/b] Emily Syris Amaia.
[b]Gender.:[/b] Female.
[b]Age.:[/b] 16.

[b]Gang.:[/b] The Illz.
[i] - Stressed out genius.[/i]

[b]Weapon of Choice.:[/b] Madsen m/50 submachine gun - Denmark Model.

[i]Caliber.: 9x19mm Luger/Para.
Weight.: 3.17 kg empty.
Length (stock closed/open).: 530 / 800 mm.
Barrel length.: 200 mm.
Rate of fire.: 500 - 550 rpm.
Magazine capacity.: 32 rounds
Effective range.: 100 meters.[/i]

[b]Specialty.:[/b] N/A.

[b]Appearance.:[/b] Fairly small in appearance, Syris stands no more then five feet in height and weighs 100 lbs. With bright eyes; one is dark brown the other is unnaturally a deep shade of red. Her hair is black with small random locks of vivid brown and blond coloring. Syris's hair is short only reaching three inches past her chin. It is held up by a dull white ribbon in bun while loose strains fall forwards, curling to accent her face. She has long bangs that are splitting at the side and reach to the center of her cheek.

Around her neck, Syris wears a small butterfly necklace over lapped my two more beaded necklaces. Each seem to over lap, creating crosses leveling around her neck down to the golden butter fly pended. Other then this, her clothing style is quite plan. On her upper half she wears a dark grey evening halter top. Three small black and blue button down the front. It's ending is lined in a darker shade of grey. Lower down she wears a black scorch. Fitting tightly it reaches half way down her thighs. Three fourths where the skirt pieces folds over it is lined with the same buttons.

Upon her lover half she wear black knee high stockings, imprinted with a floral design pattern. Syris wears plain white tennis shoes. On her arms she can usually be seen wearing three small bands on each forearm. Always fallowing in the same color pattern of yellow, green, and pink. These small bands are actually the end to the long, black, fingerless gloves she wears. Usually has a sleek white head set on. Over all of this Syris wears a standard blue military recoil's jacket.

[b]Personality.:[/b] Viewed as one of the more intelligent and cold students at her school. She is annoyed quite easily and seems to have a short temper. However, being intelligent she does not express her annoyance very often. Letting it out slowly through some small annoying habit such as tapping her foot, breaking things, or picking up a fight with one of the other Illz members. Her temper and anger often times forces her to disappear for short periods of time.

Syris does not like others easily she is alone and isolated. And in her belief it; suits her well. If she'd not need the other Illz members Syris would have killed them all long ago. Her conscious is fairly weak and guilt has very little to no effect on her anymore. Being desensitized to violence and pain, she's a well rounded fighter for a high-school girl. She covers her tracks and can actually be called caring by other students. Despite how much she detests being called thus.

Syris can usually be heard randomly speaking of ways to inflect pain, through self mutilation.

[b]Bio.:[/b] Born into small family located in Bolest City. Syris was the youngest of four children. That number soon became two, after her older brother had died at a young age and her elder sister was murdered. The two remain children grew up fair enough with no real thought of their deceased brother or sister.

Both children were taken care for. Both children given the proper things needed to grow as most children would. Both children were loved. Both children were equal. And both children were happy, but more so her brother then her. As most sibling do tend to think, Syris thought also that her parents loved her brothers and sister growing up. One by one she [i]made[/i] her problems go away. And in turn, she became happier.

Her father, a former Recoil solider, and her mother, a former surgeon, Syris's family had no problems in terms of living status. Nor had her family had any problems with the crime activity bubbling beneath the surface of Bolest City. They were all actually quite happy and Syris couldn't stand it. Because happiness was a sin and to find happiness in Bolest City was a sin. Due to how unorganized, not only, the government but the gangs as well. For a very long time, she brooded over this. Growing all the more angry as the years passed by for such ill decorum. Syris started selling weapons to various gangs. With no questions asked, she'd turn a blind eye to all of the criminal activity. Her father never noticed the high increase of Military S.U.F. weapons on the street or the gapping hole in the Military storage house.

During her first high school year Syris met Chase, an odd Goth who seemed to always dally in other cliques, and in turn she met Travis who was friends with Brittney... And eventually the chain continued on from one friend to another. Meeting the Illz grouping until she finally met Auden. The cool, sleek, over all well, rounded leader who was trying to make a place for him-self in Bolest City. During her second year of high school, she joined the gang known as the Illz.

They'd get a tactics planner. She'd get power and a few escape goats to boot.

[b]Writing Sample.:[/b] Syris's nimble fingers worked faster. Applying a small amount of rubbing alcohol to Auden's arm before applying a light, almost transparent, layer of gun powder. She glanced up at him, mumbling beneath her breath, she took the lighter from Chase's hand. He moved back a step taking the cigarette out of his mouth. Syris stood, opening the lighter and flicking the switch.

Auden had gotten the wound earlier that day when he had ran into Gin. Gin had been alone, and Auden had thought he'd able to take him down. Increase the Illz hold and power and help build up their reputations. Gin went easy and let Auden go. Auden had been wrong.

[i][b]"Is that going to even work?"[/b][/i] Chase cocked his head over to the right, letting his hair fall over his eyes.

[b][i]"Yeah, but..."[/b][/i] She nodded, with a fake smile of composure, trying to reassure Auden, [i][b]"It's going to hurt like hell."[/b] [/i]

Syris looked up again at Auden. From his shoulder blade a long, blunt, trail of skin was missing all the way down to his hand. Twirling in a snake like shape. The open cut was lined with poison. Travis and Brittney stared over from behind Chase. Standing she took a step back from Auden touching the flame of the lighter to his skin.

They watched and listened as his skin sizzeled and small explusive lights sparked along Auden's arm. He bit down on the bottom of his lips as his flesh bean to burn, boil over, and heal. After less then fourty seconds the wound along his arm hand healed over. Light wispy trails of smoke rising from his arms the air pockets underneath his skin started to harden. Auden's arm blistering, he scrunched his nose as Syris moved to let Brittney work. Applying medical paste and bandages along his arm. Brittney screeched, disgusted at how his flesh had boiled and at the thought that Auden hadn't screamed.

Walking away Chase fallowed after her. Grinning broadly as the half used cigarette dropped out of his mouth. He placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her.

[b][i]"That was nice of you."[/b][/i] he said happily, [i][b]"Always like doing things the hard and violent ways?"[/i][/b]

She smiled and continued to walk [b][i]"I don't know what you're talking about.[/i][/b]

[b][i]"Your mom was a suregeon right? You probably have a medical crap load of medical stuff in your house. You could have made it a lot easier on Auden, and now that whore 'gonna have nightmares for the rest of the week."[/i][/b]

[b][i]"I think Auden deserved it, he's not strong enough. Epically alone. I don't think Gin was really trying, Gin isn't even part of the Epidemic."[/i][/b]

Chase stopped for a second thinking brief before continuing after her. [b][i]"What that guy said, was it true?"[/b][/i]

[b][i]"It's a secret, I don't remember selling him anything though."[/b][/i] Syris looked back at Chase, pressing her pointer finger to her lips. [i][b]"I'm pretty sure my parents don't know either. If they knew, so would the military. And then I'd be gone."[/b][/i]

[b][i]"You should be cautious then, he'll hold it over you if he needs to."[/b][/i]

[b][i]"If he does, I'll just have to take care of him won't I?"[/b][/i]

Chase took the cigarette stub out of his mouth. It had finally burned out. He tossed it aside on the ground. [b][i]"Where has Mino been? I haven't seen him since last week."[/i][/b]

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 3 weeks later...
Actually read the instructions this time. And the other significant post for my gang. XP

[B]Name:[/B] Brittney Nami (Britt or Brit-Brat for short)
[B]Gender:[/B] Female (The way the instructions are worded, "hermaphrodite" is an option)
[B]Age:[/B] Sixteen
[B]Gang:[/B] Illz (the slut/whore with a cause)
[B]Weapon of Choice:[/B] Explosives. Homemade explosives. Crude, but effective. She backs 'em up with a switchblade for melee goodness.
[B]Specialty:[/B] None. Does an affinity for explosives count?
[B]Appearance:[/B] Found a pic. Britt mostly resembles Uyo ( here: [url]www.artoki.co.uk/gallery/originals/ori-uyo.htm[/url]), except A) she's brunette with brown eyes, not purple-ette with purple eyes, and B) no mike, wings, or background. REMEMBER THIS IS NOT IN ANY WAY MY WORK, I'M JUST LINKING THIS POST TO ARTOKI SO PPL CAN SEE WHAT MY CHARACTER LOOKS LIKE.
[B]Personality:[/B] Britt is sexy, and she knows what to do with it. She chooses her battles carefully, seduces them, and plants a bomb someplace they won't know until it's too late. Nowadays, she runs distractions for the Illz gang, flashing her stuff in public so the people are staring at her-- not at Chase robbing the likkr store. With her friends, Britt is acid and rude and very pessimistic, but actually very sweet and will frequently find ways to do small favors for them while still acting harsh.
[B]Bio:[/B] Born Brittney Nami Lachance, she dropped her last name when gunmen associated with the Epidemic gunned down her family when she was 12. Shortly afterward, she discovered that she could influence men (and occasionally, women), earn money, etc., with her body. (INSERT XXX GOODNESS HERE)
Then she met Travis as a frish in high school. Somehow, he could resist her charms, even when she had the baddest seniors licking her feet and peeking up her skirt... Bewildered by his power to NOT WANT SOME OF THIS, she hung around to get to know him better... and when the Illz gang finally became official, Britt was right in there with all of them.
[B]Writing Sample:[/B]
"Dammit!" muttered Chase. "That was my last cigarette." He looked at the stub dolefully and stuck it in his mouth anyway, his eyes tracing where the smoke ought to go.
"You really should quit that," Syris said casually, knowing well that he wouldn't. "How many people die from lung cancer caused by smoking each year?"
"Half as many as get gunned down by the Epidemic each year," Britt sighed, striking a very fetching pose and toying with her knife, bitter at the memory of her parents.
"Besides," Travis teased, "What are we going to do about your lack, Chase? Rob a 7-11? On the Epidemic's block?"
There was silence a moment.
"We could," said Auden, his arm (I think it was his arm) bandaged. "But the risks far outweigh the gain of a few cigarettes. If we got [I]anybody[/I]'s attention at this point..." he gestured at said arm, letting that make his point. "If we had to get your cigs, Chase, we'd have to go legit."
Britt laughed, a sound like a priceless glass plate being knocked off a table by a hyper two-year-old. Her chest heaved with the laugh, and somewhere, somehow, a hentai fanboy died of happiness. "Legit? As Travis said, on the Epidemic's block? A snowball's chance in hell of being legit for anything but murder victims! Tell me, where's Mino?"
Awkward pause.
That night, there was a commotion at a Spek's Corner Likkr Store. A young woman had started an unprovoked striptease just outside, and while everybody was out enjoying the show, a storeroom wall exploded, as if a creative bomb had just been placed there. No injuries were reported, though the store mysteriously lost...
... eight cartons of cigarettes.
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now

  • Create New...