Thriller The Sins of the Saints

Carl Weber
Boston Medical Center

"Her blood might be infectious." Carl said cooly, staring into Janssen´s eyes. Then Camden screamed something about DIE. They were all loosing it. All of them, loosing their nerves, their humanity. The attack was interrupted and Camden walked a step towards his son. A mistake, maybe. Looking at Angela he wondered if she would kill Camden.

What a Paradox. She was angry, because Carl did not allow her to save a life. Now she would probably kill another man whose purpose in life was to safe others.

It would have been funny with this bitter, dark irony . . . had it not been so unfitting. Who was worse? Humans or Caleb? At least those infected seemed to have little choise. "STOP!" Carl barked out. But he doubted they would. Humans and violence. Despite their insistence of not wiching for it, they used it first, once their social restrictions were lifted. Like animals looking for familiar territory. As if their psyche retruned home. To their point of origin. Perhaps war with the center of the humans heart.

And maybe that was why Caleb attacked all these people on sight. At least in the early stages of infection.

Raising his arms Carl watched their conflict unfold. It as like a laboratory for him. For the scientific question what was the basic nature of the huan soul.

They would obviously disappoint him.

They always had.

Tag: TSG, Spy

 

Angela Janssen
Boston Medical Center

?Die! DIE, DIE, DIE!? Angela almost turned immediately, but something in Carl´s look made her think. What was wrong with this man? Camden broke of his attack and she finally turne,d as he walked towards his boy. As he turned to surprise her, she cursed. She felt her heart break. Her mind burning from the intense clearitzy of the moment. And her finger pulled the trigger. twice. A third time, without her brain ever ordering her finger to do it. She did not aim high or low. Just into his center, as hurled himself at her, his syringe still in his hand . . .

You die. Camden. You die.

Was he infected? Most likely. Probably from the bo. Then she could be infected, too.

She thought fast and prepared to hurl aroud again to protect herself against whatever attack Weber would make.

Tag: LordT, Spy

 

Alex McRea


I felt a few different emotions and sensations when I closed the door to the house and realized that my brother was sitting nice and pretty right there, in sight of the door. Confusion was one. My brother never moves. He's lethargic, damn near a vegetable like in his actions. The other was anger. It had always been a thought in the back of my head that He'd been faking. John had always been lazy, always one to take the easy route. That he'd let me work my ass off and take care of him while he laid about, only to act normal while I wasn't around had crossed my mind. It also helped me explain how my channels would often change when I'd go out. Far fetched, but in this day and age...

Sitting my bag down I pushed it over to the side and took the moment to secure my 90two. I looked at the girl and nodded towards the kitchen table. "You can sit over there." Sighing, I moved over to my brother and went through the motions of talking to him, even though he'd likely act like a brick wall. "So John. I see you got tired of the basement. I wish you would have asked me before you decided to move the chairs around though. You know how I am about where my furniture goes."

Tag: Fins

OOC: Hit a bit of a writers block. Hitting a lot of em >.<

 

ooc: So, I´ve written a long and detailed update for all of oyu and the moment I hit the post button it was GONE! Gone. No idea how it happened. DAMMII! So, I am afraid I have no time to do another one right now. My update will come after Fins big announcment tonight . . .

LordT

 

IC: Vashti Schick
Corben's Inn, Nevada

"I know you will," "I trust you."

These words, spoken quietly, were the words that replayed in Vashti's mind as she went back into the truck and took out the small handgun and the shotgun as well as the shotguns ammunition.

Slinking back out of the truck she knelt, once again, next to Sharon. The shotgun lay next to her along with its ammo.

"There are two more guns in the truck in case you need them."

Shoving the handgun into her waistband, Vashti held on to the gun that The Man had given her. Two guns, if they didn't get the job done, nothing would.

Did she leave Sharon now? Did she wait for some kind of affirmation that Jackson was dead? No, waiting wasn't an option any longer. John had gone around and Vashti would come in the other way. Attack from both sides.

Not knowing what more to say to Sharon, the girl bit her lip and began her trek toward the diner. It was slower than she would have liked, but it was hard to walk, crouch, calm yourself, and ready a gun all at the same time.

Only seconds later there was a gun shot. And only seconds was what Vashti allowed herself to regain her composure. Someone had been shot, someone was dead. Please God, let it be the right man. Since she didn't know she would act as if it was John who was dead.

A few more steps and she was hiding against the outside wall of the diner trying to slow her breathing. A second gunshot rang through the air. Why a second shot? Had the first missed? Or did they each get a final shot in?

"It´s alright! You can come in!" . "he is dead."

Had Sharon heard? Did she know that the threat was gone? Tears flowed down her grimy face out of joy. They would be able to help Sharon. Everything would be alright.

Not feeling the need to crouch any longer, she began walking toward the door. Something stopped her. Someone was talking...in latin.

Her hand hit her mouth, covering it, preventing it from allowing the whimpers to escape. The relief that had been flowing through her was replaced by fear. Jackson lived. John had failed. But he had said that Jackson was dead! Then again, Gordon had once been suspected dead or close to it before he got up and attacked a second time.

Jackson may have seen her but she prayed he hadn't as she began to slowly walk toward the door.

Peaking through a window, Vashti saw John, lying dead on the ground. But where was Jackson?

How was one to kill a man when she didn't know where he was? How was one to kill a man who had already been shot and supposed dead? How did one who had only killed one man and that was by the will of God, kill another who had killed multiple times?

"God please be with me."

And with that, those final words, Vashti reached the open door of the diner, gun at the ready, to shoot the man who had once saved her.

Tag: TSG, Fin, Xany, TGI

 

IMPORTANT. IF YOU ARE A PLAYER PLEASE READ!

GM Note

Well, I wanted to avoid to make such a post, but for fairness sake I´ll let those of you who haven´t heard about it in on our current "situation". On 10th of August LordTroepfchen my Co-GM, best friend and long time collaborateur will leave the boards. And it will be a final good bye. The reasons and the background he will explain to you all himself in time, I am sure. We had prepared for that day, as I knew it would come for some time. In worst case I would have taken over for him. And you know what happens to good plans, do you?

Exactly.

Something did not happen quite as I expected it. My Boss has handed me a task that will ask me for my full attention for a span of time I cannot forsee (most likely between 3-6 month). In this time I won´t be able to provide my services as a GM and actually will probably be around here only from time to time. We also had a plan for such a case, actually. The plan was LordT taking over for me.

You see the problem?

Well, Sins of the Saints is far from being over. It might not even have truly begun. So many tales are out there to tell and I look forward to do so. But after this summer we´ll have to do, what most good TV series do. We´ll have a break. A autumn-break, so to say. Therefore . . .

The Sins of the Saints will go on hiatus from middle of August on. I´ll end my Chapters, prepare some storylines for the future and then end this game.

Will there be a sequel?

Yes. Season Two is already ordered. This is not me leaving SotS. Or locking it. This is me having to deal with something else and then return.

If any questions arise, please PM me. As far as you play along (means you´ll be active enough), I´ll end your storylines on a point where we can pick up later . . .

Thanks.

-Fin-

 

LordT informed me about three hours ago he had serious trouble with posting. When I tried to make his post for him, I experienced the same. Hit the submit button, nothing happened. So, my own update and announcment will have to be postponed. If you read this, it possibly actually means I got through with LordTs update.

---

[color=darkred][b]Chapter IX: We are Caleb/Prometheus play with fire . . . [/b][/color]

[i]Boston Medical Center[/i]

The shots hit Camden before he could attack her. There was hardly any chance Janssen could have missed him on that distance. Two entered his torso and one hit his leg. His movement towards his fellow doctor was cut short and instead he was hurled back to the wall. Blood began spread immediately. The wound have not been fatal immediately. But the shock made his limbs feel numb. his heart pounded in Camden´s ears. Carl did not react. He watched cooly. Almost patient. And then dropped his gun. Liam also did show little reaction. Just stared at Camden, then back to Angela Janssen and finally back to Camden again.

"So? Looks like you ran out of bullets." Weber finally said, pointing to her gun. The magazine had slid out, the slide was pulled back.

[b]Tag: Spy, TSG[/b]

[hr]
[color=limegreen][b]
Chapter VI: Darwin was right[/b][/color]

[i]Room of Jacob Zinsky, Upper Floor[/i]

Steps. There were steps. Not those of mindless madmen. Not of creatures of unknon origin or nature. it were they heavy boots of a man nearing the corridor. Clearly heard through the echo that was carried by the stony walls. Only seconds before he would be up there.

And the corridor they came form was the only way out. Rufus was trapped.

[b]Tag: Draco[/b]


[i]Flesh Hall, Downstairs[/i]

They did not do Beckfris the favour. Wherever they were gone to, nobody attacked. Nobody seemed to be there. Only him and the rotten corpses. Except. Steps . . . from behind.

"You must be the man they send to find me." A voice with heavy German accent asked from behind. The man stood mostly in the shadows. Keeping his frame away from the bowls of light that were projected from holes above on the ground. "At least you´re one of them, I think." The only thing visible were heavy leather boots. hiking boots. The man stood a few meters away from Beckfris and most likely watched him from the dark.

[b]Tag: The_Dark_Overlord[/b]

 

Doctor Camden Fossett
Boston Medical Center

Angela had turned around. Three simple sounds. With the first bang, he stopped midair. His body didn?t have time to react to the first bullet, as the second one struck in his upper torso, near the other wound. As he started to fall backwards, the next bullet slammed into his leg, knocking him backwards with more force. He collapsed against the wall, his eyes drooping considering low. The sharp pains with each intake of breath surely wasn?t good, but at the moment he didn?t feel like making a medical examination at the moment. The blood starting to come, leaking all over his doctor?s outfit. At the moment, he didn?t even feel like crying. Just sleep. Wonderful, blissful sleep. But he remembered from past experiences that sleeping wasn?t good. The shock suddenly went over Camden, and he lost all feeling. Roaming his eyes around as he panted over and over again, a heart beat slowly thrummed along in his ears.

?He-he-help-p-p-p. S-s-s-sorr-r-y.?

Camden begged Angela, panting over and over again. One small tear rolled down his face, but the overall shock froze him over. He couldn?t even move his head. Using his eyes like security cameras, twirling around the room, he saw Liam. Calm. Not even sorry for him. His son didn?t even care. Camden sighed, and in that moment he felt like letting go. But he couldn?t. Not yet. He had to see Carly one last time?

TAG: TSG and LordT

 

OOC: Apologies for the delay; RL. Will also be a bit slow to respond for a while.



IC: Sharon Cosner
Corben's Inn, Nevada

Sharon listened: the creak of a door, footsteps ... an agonizing stretch of silence ... more footsteps, quieter (she glanced up and tried not to groan; Vashti had begun creeping towards the diner, not being sufficiently experienced to wait for confirmation one way or the other before moving) ... then gunshots and John's voice, calling them in.

She frowned. That seemed too easy. She peered up again; Vashti had reached the diner and was looking into a window.

Now what? Sharon frowned and levered herself to her knees, gingerly - her left hand was still occupied with her shoulder, and her right was still occupied with her pistol. It was too awkward to re-holster, and she did not want to leave it behind... but she would not need to go anywhere. John and Vashti would bring the first aid kit out soon enough. Assuming it still had supplies left; Sharon worried for a moment that the bandages and disinfectants might have been used to treat Gordon and whoever else before they had died, then calmed herself with the realisation that Vashti would have known if they were.

Yet the nagging feeling remained.

He will die for you, her older self screamed.

But he had not. He had shot the priest for her ... surely he would not have called out if he had missed, or if he had been the one getting shot. Sharon settled back against the truck, uneasy and unable to explain why... then abruptly decided that she would survive the short trek to the diner, if it meant seeing for her own eyes that the danger was passed.

She pushed herself up again and, slowly and cautiously, began trekking towards the building.

TAG: TSG, swbeauty, Fins ... no TGI

 

Daniel Beckfris
Flesh Hall

Fat zonk wasn't so jummy with a pair of bullets in his head, honestly. A bit disappointing but alive was perhaps better than dead.
Beckfris was startled in his thoughts of an unknown voice claiming that he was the prize of it all, he turned and searched the surroundings for the origin of the voice, it spoke again!

Boots, clearly strapped around some sort of leg, perhaps a person; who knew in this place?

"Aah, Zinsky. Finally we meet, I am so glad that you finally decided to join us. While I do enjoy the company of your friends they are a tad bit.." his eyes flickered for a split second "intense" he said and smiled.

"While I have no clue as to whom you refer to when you say 'they', I certainly am looking for you, or to be more precise, I am looking for answers and sources tell me that you are the man with the answers to all of my questions.. which have increased in numbers since I first set out to find you."

"And if you are worried for your life, perhaps you should be, you are no use to me if you have no answers but I guess you figured that out the moment I said that I were looking for answers. But on the other hand I have no need to kill you either, in fact, as long as you do not try to eat me I have a slight feeling that my precious bullets serve better in the heads of the zonks. Forgive me if I am dragging this out but you must understand, judging by your German accent and hiking boots you are Jacob Zinsky. Sources never told me about a second male with German accent.. Anyway, if I may continue"

Daniel Beckfris looked around himself and found a piece of cloth that had less bloodstains than others, with it he dried off his face from blood and stood confused for a few seconds looking for a trashcan until he realized that perhaps, trashcans were not priority number one in this hall. He decided to throw it on the ground and continued to speak with the boots.

"How you survived this place I do not know, but I have a slight feeling that you may have something to do with it. Having met an immortal man who seeks the symbols you have found opened my eyes to what is possible and not. If you are the source behind this place I give you my kudos, it is impressive. Now to the task at hand, my hand, I imagine you are not in any shape or mental strength to have any other task than surviving the day. This is of course only my speculations but until proven otherwise I will continue to hold that position. My task, you may wonder, is to stop this 'Change' as they, and when I say they I mean the general public, media, governments and so on call it."

He lowered his voice and changed his tone to a very serious one "So Jacob Zinsky.. tell me, how.. do.. I.. stop.. it? And do not tell me that I cannot. You found something in Africa, something so important that you abandoned everything and ventured here, to this place. Those symbols, what do they mean? What are they for? What are you scared of? HOW DO I STOP IT?!"

TAG: LordT / Fin (depending on your internets )

 

For LordT:

The Passenger
Nevada, Desert

"I have no idea." The Passenger. Karl admitted. "But Tony and I, we did not share the same interest, you know? Once we were like brothers. But he developed affections. A sense of purpose to guide him through the many years of waiting." Karl stopped and looked around. "In the last years I knew as little about his plans as he did about mine. When the Change began I was first suspecting him. Before I found out what had really happened." Karl looked stopped and turned at Sumiko. "I think this place looks perfect. You know?" He said and there was only desert. Wherever they looked.

Tag: Leigh

---

[b]Carl Weber[/b]
[i]Boston Medical Center[/i]

"And now?" Carl asked. The boy slowly walked to Camden. his face still blank. but probably it was all too much for him. Probably he simply did not understand. He dropped tohis knees and lay down on Camden´s leg, as the man sat at the wall. Bleeding from all wounds. "What now, Janssen?" Carl asked again. "He was infected. Most likely. Am I? Did I kill Mrs. Dale because I was infected? Or to avoid you operating a woman with her blood all over you in the middle of a highly infectious environment?" Carl asked and smiled. Then he handed her the shotgun. "Maybe you want this back?" He asked. "To kill me and the boy? So you are no longer burdened with the concern [i]we[/i] could be violent infected?" then Carl looked at camden. "She hit you´re lung and probably you artery in the leg, Doctor. I think it will be you to die, die, die." He sighed.

[b]Tag: TSG, Spy[/b]

[hr]
[b]
For myself:[/b]

[color=orangered][b]Chapter VIII: The Passenger[/b][/color]

[i]Desert, Nevada[/i]

"Who the hell is that?" The old man rasped and carefully set Andy down. Vincent turned and shieled his eyes from now dying sun. "Looks like a man running through the desert. alone." He said and took out his gun. "Maybe another survivor?" The old man asked. "No," Vincent replied, shaking his head. "Wrong direction. He´s coming from somewhere north." He sighed. The waved his hands. "HEY! HELLO! WE NEED HELP!" The man did stop running and turned. A young man, perhaps twenty something. Jeans and sneakers. A shirt. He also had a gun on his back. A rifle. Slowly he began to climb the dune they were on on. Vincent prepared his gun and put it into his belt. "Andy, I´ll try to get you up." He said and helped the girl stand. The man approached. His eyes looked feverish. His skin as if he had been in the sun far too long. A sunburn like that had to burn terribly. "Everything okay?" Asked the elder man. The man just looked at him and grinned. 2ho are you?" his raspy voice demanded to know. His arms seemed not to intent to get his weapon. But his smile had something sick, something maniac in it.

[b]Tag: Spy[/b]

[i]Corben´s Inn[/i]

(approval of TSG)

"Wasn´t I right?" The voice was directly in her ear, although Vashti knew if she turned nobody would be there. She could feel the breath of the man. But he was not breatinh.g he was dead and in the kitchen. He talked to her anyway. "I told you too shoot him. Henley died because you choose to shot me. You choose to shot me and not him. you see that, now? You see that?" He laughed a bit. "Now you will see what he is able to do. You will see." And the man was gone. Just the second the gun hit Vashti in her face and swept her from her feet. Sharon only saw Vashti collapsing, as a shade from the Inn attacked her.

[b]Tag: TSG (please first), swbeauty, Xany[/b]

[hr]

[color=darkred][b]Chapter IX: And Prometheus played with fire . . . [/b][/color]

[i]Middlesex, Alex House[/i]

His brother did not react. Actually the motuhless girl obviously did not listen either. Instead she walked over into the living room. Looking around. Obviosuly confused. Then she turned to Ale brother. Stared at him, as he stared back. At the wall. Not moving. Not walking or talking.

She gestured and waved. Looked at Alex questioning. Then her eyes widened. She ran to the living room again. Looked at the watch hanging htere. she pointed at it,

 

IC: Sumiko Nakamura
Nevada, Desert



"I have no idea. But Tony and I, we did not share the same interest, you know? Once we were like brothers. But he developed affections. A sense of purpose to guide him through the many years of waiting."

A curious look crossed Sumiko's face as she listened to Karl?s words. He and Tony were really that close once upon a time? And what did he mean about affections and sense of purpose? Everyone had some sort of affection towards someone or something in one way or another, whether big or small, obvious or secret. The same with purpose. He spoke of them as if they were negative things, things that drove both Karl and Tony apart. Karl then stopped and looked around. She watched his back as he spoke

"In the last years I knew as little about his plans as he did about mine. When the Change began I was first suspecting him. Before I found out what had really happened."

Curiosity dissolved into confusion. Karl had suspected Tony had been involved in the mysterious change. But how much more did Karl know? About the change? the plane crash? everything? If anything. She was very tempted to pick his brain about what he had just said but then he turned to face her. Maybe she would quiz him when they weren?t in such a vulnerable position.

"I think this place looks perfect. You know?"

He said, indicating their surroundings. Sumiko raised an eyebrow and shrugged, immediately regretting it as the movement aggravated her weakened arm.

"Perfect? How so?"

Perfect was the last word that Sumiko would have used to describe the desert that surrounded them. This vast lonely land, nothing but sand and rock, everything dead, suffocated by the intense heat. The heat...Sumiko stopped abruptly, a woozy feeling washed over her for a few moments as the combination of the heat of the desert and the fluctuating levels of pain from her injuries made themselves known once more. Taking another sip from her water bottle she closed her eyes for a few seconds and took a deep breath, fighting the dizzy feeling away as best she could muster. Trudging across a desert was no easy task in normal circumstances, never mind the situation they were currently in. Sumiko sighed softly and looked at him

"Forgive me, Karl-san, but as much as I enjoy admiring the scenery, how much further away do you think this Inn is? We have to hurry so we can get back to Andrea-san and the others..."



TAG: LordT, Fins

 

Andrea ?Andy? Rebecca Baker
Nevada - Desert

Her reply to his question went short. He was probably brewing over how depressing her life had become. Andy sipped some more water, savoring the delicious flavor that rolled past her parched lips and slithered down her dry throat. She smiled again, staring up into the strange sun that lay above her. Then the whole carrier she rode on shook, and she almost fell backwards and into the old man. Climbing up the dune, Vincent was sweating, and Andy wanted to suggest drinking some water, but withheld this information. She had lived near or with her father for sixteen years, and she knew how hard headed men were. Once all of them had topped the dune, they stopped. The old man spoke, and Andrea?s eyes roamed back, trying to catch his face.

"Who the hell is that?"

The mysterious old man rasped outward, and Andy shivered from the frightening voice that the old man had. In the last times she had heard him speak, a few hints of knowledge were hidden in his voice, and he had something that a grandfather would feel. Now. Now, it was like he was drained, which carrying her shouldn?t be much of a problem. She only weighed one hundred and twenty pounds, and might have lost ten pounds in the crash. Vincent raised his hand to shield his eyes, and Andy caught that look. She followed their gazes and saw someone running along the way. He said it looked like a man, and she sighed.

?I think Vincent, I could draw that fact.?

The old man suggested he was a survivor, but Vincent said he was coming from the North. Andy nodded, realizing this wasn?t normal. No sane man ran through a desert in the middle of nowhere. Vincent suddenly raised his hands in the air, waving them and shouting for help. Andrea smiled in relief. And maybe some worry. They had found a man. But where was anyone else. Vincent then added to her that he would help her stand. Dizzy from laying down so long, she stumbled and collapsed into the sand on her knees. Waving Vincent off, she rested her hand on her machine and stood tall and strong. As the survivor approached, veering from his original direction, Andy squealed. His face was a deep, scarlet, a burning sunburn. How long has he been out here?

Then she saw the gun. He had a rifle on his back. Andy stepped behind Vincent for a moment, noticing he had taken his gun out. As the man approached, Andrea winced. He looked hideous. The burn hurt her. The old man asked him some questions, but the man just smiled. A frightening smile. A smile of a murderer. A maniac. When no one spoke up, Andrea stepped from behind Vincent, putting her hands on her hips. She winced again, but hid it by lowering her head and shuffling her feet for a couple of moments.

?Listen. I am Andrea Baker. This is Vincent Doyle. He is?an old man. We are three of the five survivors of Flight 2440, that went down back there,? Andrea pointed from person to person, then back to the plane, ?Now. Tell me who you are, where we are, and how we can get help. And I don?t want that silence. Also, I want you to get that gun and throw it down the dune. We?ll throw ours, but only after you. So, answer me.?

She realized she might come off as slightly rude, but all she wanted was to get home and back to San Francisco. She wanted to see her father, go shopping with her friends, watch the news and worry over other people?s problems. Not hers. She could still hear the news coverage she had heard before she had left. The population of Kiel has disappeared. The news man was obviously shaken up from the matter, and Andy had wondered if anything could happen to her. And something had?

TAG: Fins

 

Doctor Camden Fossett
Boston Medical Center

Panting repeatedly, his pain intensified. Angela had not yet replied to his pain filled request, but he knew she was pressured by the consuming frustration coming from Carl. He noticed the man looked at Angela, asking her something. Then he saw Liam. His child. Laying onto his leg, the boy?s face was a neutral emotion, and Camden doubted the boy was in a right place of mind either. Then Carl looked over at him, and he tuned his ears up.

"She hit you´re lung and probably you artery in the leg, Doctor. I think it will be you to die, die, die."

Camden stopped thinking rationally. He remembered his last moments with his beautiful wife, her long brown hair normally straight, not a curl in it. He whispered her name in his mind, remembering everything they had been through. The loss of money funds had been hard when it had finally struck their family. They had always relied on money. That caused so many arguments, and that might have drove him into Gina?s arms. That, and the fact that he was a selfish man who hadn?t been to church in a year. And now, he felt like he needed one more final plea to the Lord. Because he might soon be joining him.

?Dear Lord, please pay heed to my request. I don?t want to live. I don?t deserve to live. But please, please let my wife and foster son have many years of prospering. Many, many years. And Angela. She deserves to have a wonderful life. And Carl. He was the man who brought me through most of this. Please, please protect my family, whether they be blood or biologically related or not. This will be my last request.?

He closed his eyes, and one tear rolled down his cheek. He remembered their wedding reception. He missed those times.

***

The radio played a song by John Henley. A beautiful ballad that brought some sadness. But for these two beautiful dancers, dancing at their wedding, people tapping feet in the background, it was the best moment ever. Carly?s laughter echoed through the reception hall as her sister got out and started clapping her hands, patting her on the back. Camden planted a wet kiss on her face, enjoying this moment. Elizabeth backed off, and together they danced together, in fluid, equal steps.

Run on, for a long time.
Sooner or later, God?ll cut you down
Sooner or later, God?ll cut you down
Go tell that long tongued liar
Go and tell that midnight rider
Tell the rambler, the gambler, the back fighter
Tell ?em that God?s gonna cut them down

?I love you Camden. I have never loved a single man more than I love you now. I don?t care if we have child. Just as long as we are together.? Carly had her arms wrapped around his neck, pecking him on the lips. He had smiled at her, and together they danced. Spinning, tapping their feet. The taste of the cake still in their mouths. Together they were one. Without one, they were none. ?I love you Carly. And remember this. When I die, heaven hope I die before you, always know that through anything, ANYTHING, I will love you. Forever, Carly.?

?Forever.?

TAG: TSG, LordT

 

Angela Janssen
Boston Medical Center

Angela looked down to Camden. The colleague she had just killed. Killed. Was he infected? Maybe. Maybe she was. There was no way to know. Maybe she could not realize she was. maybe that was part of the infection. Angela dropped her gun and stumbled back. "You cold hearted bastard." She hissed at Carl Weber. then looked at the boy. The poor boy, lying on his fathers leg. "I´ll get him and get to the quarantine team. they must have estblished some kind of . . . " Except they wanted them all to die. and what if she was not infected, but the others . . . stumbling back she began to cry. she turned and ran down the corridor. Away from the others. Away from Weber and dying Camden and that retarded little boy . . .

Tag: Spy, LordT

---

[b]
Jackson Clay[/b]
[i]Corben´s Inn[/i]

The pain remained. the wounds would not kill him, but they hurt. So he had problems dragging his leg to the darkest corner of the room, as he heard steps outside. The gun of Henley was still ready. The corpse on the ground still fresh. Jackson stopped breathing, stopped thinking. He gave himself to the situation. This scent . . . like roses . . . was it Vashti? maybe there was a reward for all of this, after all. not that he deserved . . . his foucs shifted back to the moment, as the door opened. Right in front of him. "Don´t move. Or I´ll kill you." He simply hissed from the dark. Trusting she would understand he could do that. "I don´t want anymore blood to be spilled, but I will. And the lord won´t make me fail, for I do his bidding. You must know that. Deep inside you must feel you serve the devil, my child." He looked out, no sign of sharon yet. He was speaking low, so she would not be warned. but if she had not run now, there was no more escape. Jackson knew that. It would end here. It had always been meant to end here.
[b]
Tag: Xany, Fin, swbeauty[/b]

 

Thomas Schröder
Tarpenbekstr. 55, Hamburg

"Yeah, actually I did." he said, coming out of the kitchen. He smiled at the two dead bodies. 2amazing, it really gets easy over time. you know hoshi, I killed eight people, seven today . . . oh wait, no. I can´t have killed Robert. he is here. so I probably imagined killing him in kiel then. very vivid imagination, though." He turned and left for his room, without saying anything to the idea of letting them go. instead he opened his cupboard and began to dress. "you know I slept with Laura? Yeah I did. Funny is it?" He took of his clothing, carefully lying down the gun on the bed. "You can´t take her eyes of her, Robert can´t satisfy her anymore. But me. I get to sleep with her. besides all this . . . things I think about her. All these fantasies . . . " He took out the dress and began to get hte clothes on. 2How did you manage to get out of kiel, Robert? Hm?" He kept on talking, ignoring anything but his voice, for now. "How the hell did you return from the dead?" He sat down and changed his shoes, now wearing his newest Adidas runnung shoes. A break in style with his new suit he had put on. If the world was going to hell, he wanted to leave a good looking corpse. "Are you a Zombie or something?" He asked from his bedroom and smiled. He grabbed under the bed and took out a box. It had never been used, but he had not managed to give it away or sell it yet. His flatiron. "You know what? I´lll just assume it is your secret. so let´s try to find out, do we?" He made his way back to the main room, where the other two were chained to the heater. "So, what do you say, Hoshi? how long will he last until he tells me everything?" He asked, grinning. He wasn´t even sure if Robert was still alive. he surely was not conscious. But hey . . . did he care?

[image=http://planet-interview.de/fileadmin/Bilder/Galerie/Daniel_Bruehl_323_03.jpg]

Tag: Ben_Stormrider

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All others later . . .

 

ooc: too all Germans. WHAT THE FREK IS WRONG WITH OUR SPELLING CORRECTION???

Laura Blohm
Car, Streets, Land of the Living

The realiztion she was dying was not the irritating fact. Irritating was, she still lived. She was still alive and well. Relatively well. the feeling left her limbs, breathing seemed to cease. She seemed to fade away. but pain was not present. Suffering. Had she brought this upon her? had she changed the future? In the other future she survived. She had travelled back in time, so she had been alive.

in this she died. had she won? What? what had been the prize? What was it she had prevented? what could she prevent? Perhaps alica dying? had she travelled back in time to save the child? Would she sacrifice herself for that? Yes, she found deep in her heart, she actually would.

Don´t go to your father. What would have happened had she not warned herself? How had she found the means to travel through time and space? She would never know. She could not even entirely rule out, that it had all been made up. Maybe it was an imagination of a danger her consciousness could not see or accept? But why her father? Why him? Had he ever retruned to Germany? As far as she knew he had left the country the day after . . . it . . . and never came back. trying to call her from time to time. To deny what he had done. To deny his guilt. And suffer from her ignorance. Because he thought he deserved forgiveness. It was HIS position to decide. His authority. And he had forgiven himself, so why hadn´t she?

Laura had phantasized about traveling to Afrika to kill him. But she had never done such a thing in her life. She was peaceful. Or she had been, before killing cops in Garages. She had never done it . . . and maybe that was something she was guilty of. Had she made it possible for him to do it to others? To other girls?

The car stopped and she half regained consciousness.

"Where are we?" She asked Markus. Was he praying? God. She had not yet considered him to have a hand in it. If he existed, he was obviously done with them.

Maybe he was right about them. About them all . . .

Tag: Mitth, Fin

 

IC: Markus J. F. Christianson
Car, Streets, Land of the Condemned

Despite his heart beating so loudly in his ears, the rushing of his own thoughts with the horrors created by the ideas planted, and the sound of a weakening life breathing behind him all conspired to drown out the ruling qualities of what was once a mind of faith and reason. Now, fear deeply crouched within his mind, etching out an existance that seemed to forever as the realization that not only what might happen to his daughter were realized, but that they both were still here. . .living in what best appeared to be an Revelation to the end of human creation.

A voice, soft in volume and rough in quality, asked a simple question. His mind gave back only a simple answer as he paused in his prayers, "Am Santornkai 60, Elb City in downtown Hamburg. If this GPS is still accurate, and I'm understanding the signs correctly."

He looked back at her. Seeing the woman through the veils he had attributed to her, she seemed no angel. Her heart did not conform to the knowledge he yet knew, unless she was an avenging one, and he doubted that greatly. Demon, possibly but not one seethed or steeped in any ancient or able evil ways. Human, the blood, the wounds bore testament to that and heavily gave it witness. Genes, her genes cried out a different story in many ways, and that yet kept the title of fellow human from her.

"Someone said they could save you, and my daughter. That is why we are here. Maybe someday, when this. . .this is over we could discuss what we are." he stated simply as he pulled back on his satchel. The car was stopped, the engine once more off, and soon the doors would open soon to either their benefactor or their doom.

TAG: Sirak, Fin

 

Chapter VII: Family and other problems . . .

Tarpenbekstr. 55, Hamburg

"Will you hurt him?" The voice of Alicia was almost feinting, as she spoke. Her eyes looked up to Thomas. he had obviously forgotten about her, but she had watched him every move. "I don´t want you to hurt him. He is a friend of Laura." She remarked. Sounds came from the stairs. robert regained consciousness. "Bastard!" Was all he could hiss to Thomas. Then his head turned to Hoshi and he coughed. "You need to help him, Hoshi. I know how that sunds, but you need to help Thomas find Laura." he coughed once more. "he will do what I failed to. He will save us all. Perhaps . . . " And looking up to Thomas again and to the flatiron in his hand he almost smiled. "You can begin now."

Tag: Ben, LordT


Somewhere Downtown, Hamburg

The moment he left the car, a priest seemed to stand right in front of him. Stress could have made him oversee him, but actually he appeared to have come form nowhere. The streets were empty. Abandoned by all life. Signs of streetfighting and burning carsd the only testament of the violence that seemed to infect the city like a pandemic.

[image=http://images2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20070614191745/lostpedia/it/images/thumb/a/a4/Yemi_Promo.jpg/200px-Yemi_Promo.jpg]

"You did good, Markus. He is very proud of you. I´ll take Laura now and bring her to her father." He smiled cooly and nodded to him, before turning. "He will save you, Laura. He forgives you." The man smiled and lay his arms around her legs and neck to lift her out of the car. "Your daughter is in the Tarpenbekstr. 55. In a flat in the second story. It´s a bit far away from here, but if you hurry you can still make it there to safe her." The priest said and nodded to Markus. "Laura won´t need you, now. She is save." And with that the priest lifted her up and turned to go towards the door. "She is with her father."

[image=http://www.bib-bremen.de/mediac/400_0/media/HH-Sandtorkai.jpg]

Somewhere above the shape of a man could be seen looking down on this scene. His lips trembling in anticipation, as the priest made his way in.

[image=http://moviesection.de/v3/img/datenbank/1075499333nichts2.jpg]

Tag: Mitth, Sirak

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[color=orangered][b]Chapter VIII: The Passenger[/b][/color]

The man looked at Andy, as she introduced herself. If the story of crashed people did do anything with him, his features did not betray this feelings. he seemed to be perfectly uninterested in it. After a long moment he finally took of his gun. An old hunting rifle, as it looked and looked on it. He finally just looked up and nodded. "I am Caleb." Was all he said then. And he raised the gun to aim at Andy. Vincent was faster. His gun out, he gave three shots at the man. The first and third hitting him. The man collapsed and even now tried to raise his gun. "Stay here!" Vincent hissed and slowly stepped down, aiming at the mans head. The man still tried to find the strength to raise his gun and his lips were moving. "STOP IT!" Vincent yelled. The man managed to draw his gun to him and Vincent gave him a forth shot, right into his head.

"I got headache." The old man behind andy said and dropped to his knees. Looking at Andy he shook his head. "Must be the heat. Right?" Vincent leaned over the dead. Then he looked into the desert. "Must have come from somewhere around." He said to himself then looked up to Andy and the old man.

[b]Tag: Spy[/b]

[hr]
[i]
by LordT, for sake of completeness of this update . . . [/i]

[i]Dunes, Nevada[/i]

Karl sighed and turned to Sumiko. "To get rid of you. Nothing personal, but I cannot allow Tony´s pawns to remain in the game, when I can do anything about it. After all, this is a game of all or nothing . . . " And with that he hit Sumiko into her face with his fist. He was surprisingly strong. As she tumbeld down the dune, he followed her patiently. his features showing only cold determination.

[b]Tag: Leigh[/b]

[hr]

[color=orange][b]Chapter VI: Darwin was wrong[/b][/color]

[i]Me and LordT

 

IC: Sumiko Nakamura
Dunes, Nevada



"To get rid of you. Nothing personal, but I cannot allow Tony´s pawns to remain in the game, when I can do anything about it. After all, this is a game of all or nothing . . . "

Sumiko felt the colour draining out of her face at these words and a sensation of shock ripped through her as realisation dawned. He had tricked her, deceived her, lured her into a false sense of security with fake promises and now she was like a fly trapped in a spiders web. She was Alone, weakened, venerable, miles away from any sort of help. There was no-where to run, no-where to hide. And his man was going to kill her.

"Gyah!"

Sumiko yelped as Karl's fist connected with her face violently, knocking her off her feet and sending her tumbling down the sand dune. She cried out in pain as she fell, rolling multiple times before losing momentum and rolling to a stop, doubled over in a crumpled position in the sand. She breathed hard, squeezing her eyes shut, as some of the sand had managed to invade them. The punch from Karl was surprisingly strong, her face was stinging awfully and her head was pounding. She felt blood oozing from a newly bust lip, the iron-like taste of blood surfaced in her mouth and Karl?s strike had re-opened the gash on her cheek, fresh blood tricking down her cheek and dripping from the contour of her jaw line. She raised her head from off the desert sand and looked up the dune, her eyes wide, scared, as the figure of Karl descended the dune towards her calmly, a menacing figure against the harsh desert sky. His face was of only cold determination as he continued to walk towards her. In the silence of the desert air Sumiko could hear the sound of her heart beating in her ears, going at a million miles an hour.

?Why?...What do you mean...pawn??

She managed to choke out weakly, as she pushed herself awkwardly up onto all fours in the sand, her head spinning

?I know next to nothing about Tony! It could have been anyone seated next to him on that plane!

She managed to shout, her words a little stronger this time, anger surfacing in her voice and look of deep betrayal in her eyes as he continued coming towards her. Closer and closer with each step, that expression, menacing, dark. Cold.



TAG: LordT, Fins

 

Daniel Beckfris
Flesh Hall

Zinsky clearly had lost it, perhaps the dead were not such good company after all. "Now listen Zinsky, get a hold of yourself!" Daniel kept his distance but began moving towards his right, getting a clearer angle to his conversation partner. Who or what was behind it all mattered little to Daniel, god, the devil, aliens, communists, North Korea.. It was all the same, something that was stealing his prize!
"You read those symbols, you understand them.. And now you are dead, I get it.. it is not what you wanted, wished for or whatever. You may feel that it is all lost but you must have read something! A small chance, a glimpse anything that could be a chance to stop this!"
Daniel was getting stressed and furious at this nut case.
"I do not care what this being is, that is not why I am here.. if you have no answers for me then fine, sit here and rot the rest of your undead life away. But if you have something.. what does it matte if you reveal it to me or not?"

TAG: Fin

 

Fins Approved (Provided Emotions and Responses Near End)


Andrea ?Andy? Rebecca Baker
Nevada - Desert



The man simply stared ahead at her, chewing over her words that she had used to cut off any response Vincent or the Old Man could apply. His face displayed a look of uninterest also, and the unnerving burns sweltering on his face distracted Andrea?s vision. Rolling her eyes, she glanced to the ground below her. She unfolded one of her arms, the one that had been undamaged by the gun shot wound, and reached over her neck, feeling of the bandage. A swift sting vibrated down her arm and across her neck. Wincing her sapphire eyes shut, she envisioned her father. He stepped forward in the darkness, and behind him stood the stewardess from the plane, her silencer gun gripped in her hands. Dry blood caked along her arms and in her hair, and an eerie grin came on her face.

?I don?t care about your father.?

The stewardess woman?s voice echoed in the dark recesses of Andy?s mind, and she clenched her teeth shut, biting her tongue. She felt the dull iron taste of blood leaking in her lips, but for now she was preoccupied by other matters. The stewardess pulled the trigger, but the gun in her hands made no sound, hushed by the silencer. Andy?s father?s face tightened up, his lips opening and closing in a gesture to make sound. But no sound came. The stewardess still stood there, her eyes lit up with insanity. Andrea didn?t try to get to her father. Because she didn?t care. She didn?t want to help. When did he help her. Andrea realized then that she had not cared for her father in sixteen years. Ever since he hadn?t let her see mother. And in shock, Andy let the stewardess?s laughter fill her mind.

?I am Caleb.?

Andrea?s eyes opened instantly, facing the muzzle of the man?s rifle. Her lips opened and closed like her father?s had, and she watched the man?s finger wander to the trigger. Slow motion came upon Andy and everything around her as she saw the man?s face. Three loud shots made a loud bang in her eardrums, and she reached her hands up to her cheeks, pushing them in. She expected flying lead to pound into her face, but instead the rifle fell away from her face, following some way down the dune. Andy watched, her mouth opened part way in shock. She watched the man plummet backwards down the hill, his blood smearing the sand. Turning her head sideways, she faced Vincent, who had his gun pointed directly at the man who claimed to be Caleb. His fingers twitched toward his rifle, and Andrea shouted out.

?Vincent! Don?t kill him!?

?Stay here!?

Andy silently fumed as Vincent ignored her comment, pointing his gun directly at the man. He shouted for him to stop. The man ignored Vincent?s pleas, and pointed his gun directly on Vincent. Dashing forward, propelling her legs behind her, she attacked Vincent, trying to not only push him out of the way of the shot, but trying to save the young man under him. Vincent fired his gun anyway, before Andy could reach him, and the man?s face became a bloody pulp. His rifle slipped from his fingers and his arms flopped sideways, blood splattered everywhere.

?You killed him. You killed him! You FREAKING killed him!? Her voice rose in tone as she spoke to Vincent. But when a pair of knees hit the sand with a soft thump, Andy twirled backwards in her daze, glancing at the old man on the ground. He seemed to be having head pains, so Andy listened to him."I got headache. Must be the heat. Right?" Andy stared at the old man. Who was he? She would have to find out, and whether by force of gratification, she would. Ignoring his question, she stepped toward the man, pulling his fingers open and taking the rifle from them.

?Now, you need to explain yourself. No excuses.?Andy pointed the rifle at her feet, but she was facing the old man, and it could be seen as aiming it at the old man. Andy was done dealing with old men like her father. Wiping a tear from her eye, she frowned

 

IC: Sharon Cosner
Corben's Inn, Nevada

Vashti went down. Sharon swore under her breath and forced herself to go faster. Henley must have been mistaken - now they were in even more danger than before.

By the time she reached the inn door - stumbling a little over the steps - the bleeding had slowed and the pain had receded to a dull throb, but her arm stubbornly refused to lift more than a handspan. Grimly, Sharon transferred her pistol to her bloodstained left hand. Years ago, a broken right arm had forced to learn to do things left-handed, including fire a weapon ... but her aim wasn't as good, and there was still Vashti to consider. She did not want to hit her by accident.

Why do you care so much? She's a waitress. A nobody. You didn't even know her a month ago, and in another you'll be far away.

Yes ... but she had come to like Vashti and the Corbens, these last few weeks at the diner. They were simple people - not unintelligent, but uncomplicated - and fair, honourable, kind. Good people. Just the qualities that made them easy prey for people like ...

Sharon shook away that train of thought. It would do her no good. Now, tactics: her opponent had thus far proven to be a devious and resilient combatant... but he was here for a reason, and so was she... but was his reason for being here to counter her mission, or simply to kill her?

If it was the latter, she was already dead. He controlled the inn, and its supplies with it. She could leave and search for another first-aid kit somewhere - the gas station, perhaps - but there was no guarantee she would find one, and she wouldn't last long with this injury. It was only a matter of time.

If it was the former, on the other hand ... he might need her alive yet.

Sharon sighed. Then, with the tip of her gun, she pushed open the door.

TAG: TSG, swbeauty, Fins

 

Laura Blohm
Santornkai, Hamburg

Her father? "Vater." She could hardly talk, but she had to warn Markus. Her future self had told her not to . . . not to . . . go to her father . . . "Dont. Not. Father . . ." She whispered and felt lifted into the air. The man . . . who was the man . . . why was her father here? he had left the country. a long time ago he had fled. why was he here? what had made him . . . return?

"No." She coughed out and felt the feeling leave her body. It was almost over. Would she save herself if she went to her father? Maybe it was alright to do now? maybe she had changed it all? Or it hapened exactly the way she had envisioned it through her other self. What? what happened if she met her father? would she murder him? Like she had made it up a million times? Would that be the mistake?

"Vater. Bitte . . . Nicht . . ." She almost felt his cold hands again. Felt them. Everywhere . . . Like the touch of death.

Please.

Tag: Mitth

 

IC: Markus J. F. Christianson
Santornkai, Hamburg

The man appeared as though from the ether, and from such he nearly expected him to return like so many ghosts seemed to be doing these days. Though rarely they seemed to ever do so alone. So he froze.

Stunned, yes stunned is the word for it. Praise being added on in a perfunctorily vague manner did nothing to ease him out of it. After all, whom did the man mean by Him? Yes, man. He could not bring himself to call more than he could know, which in times like this was little to none.

His daughter, an address. . .what he had been, in part, fighting death for. The location of his daughter was now supposedly laid out in his lap for delivering this girl-thing. . .to her father? Mumbling, always mumbling was the girl since she was shot, but now. . .though jumbled her words might of been there meaning was clear. This, this she did not want, and whatever he could say about her, she had tried to protect his Alicia.

"Wait." he found himself saying as his hand reached to grip the priests shoulder, "You expect me to take your word as you take my only living link to my daughter that you are not lying to me. For all I know in this unfamiliar country this is an address for a Pizza Hutt and I'll loose not only my daughter but the only resource I have to finding her. If your. . .employer is her father, surely he can understand my misgivings. One father to another."

TAG: Fin, Sirak