Thriller The Sins of the Saints

"John Morris"
Charlesbridge, Prague

Morris smiled.

"I don't assume this is the only copy of documents pertaining to my existence. It is missing quite a lot, though."

He reached into his jacket to grab - a gun, a knife, - a lighter and a cigar. He tucked the file beneath his arm and reached into another pocket, this time pulling out a cigar cutter. He deftly chopped the tip off, replaced the cutter and lit the cigar. "A horrible vice, I know. But at least I don't drink. Well, often." Morris chuckled at his own joke, and took another look through the file.

"Ahh, yes, 1969. Stuck in a jungle in South Asia. What happy, heady days."

Morris calmly took the lighter and flicked it open. He paused, holding the file at arm's length. "Ashes to ashes, Herr Kleym."

The file burned away quickly.

The ashes flew into nothingness in the air, and Morris turned back to Kleym. "Now we talk prices, Herr Kleym, or to be more accurate, you talk prices while I make you one offer and one offer alone." The smile vanished. "Did you by any chance read the documents in that file, Herr Kleym? What a treasure trove of information! What a strange riddle! Pictures dating back to the Vietnam War, actions in Kosovo, Bosnia, Korea...and one face to link it all."

Morris grinned, lips thin and pale.

"A face like mine. And reports, documents, pictures that link that face to what some would call...terrifying events."

He gazed at the water.

"They tell stories about a simple soldier like myself. That my interrogations are too...involved. That I revel in breaking a soldier down to nothing. They say I kill for the joy of it. I've even heard them say I drink the blood of my enemies."

He smirked.

"They say a lot. And I'm the one you wish to make a deal with. The supposed cannibal, torturer, soldier for hire."

At last his gaze met Kleym's. All mirth was gone.

"This is your final warning, Herr Kleym. Are you still interested in doing business with Mr. John Morris?"

Tag: Fins

 

OOC: DarthRamza meant to say ?What do you know of Caleb?? in his last post. That is what I?ll use.

Central Commons - Boston Commons
June 6th, 2012
02:32

Dave backed away from John as he clutched his shoulder. A chunk of flesh still hung from John?s mouth.

?What do you know of Caleb??

Both turned towards the voice. Dave blanched at the twin guns, John merely spit out the blood chunk and grinned.

?I know more than you do.?

Dave watched in utter surprise as John, blood seeping down his chin, charged at the gun toting masked man.

TAG: DarthRamza

---

[b]Apartment 3F ? Chinatown
June 6th, 2012
02:32[/b]

The ringing of a cell phone interrupted Kincade?s search of the apartment. Not that it had been a very fruitful search. So far he had found nothing that even resembled a list.
The cell phone clicked on.

?Kincade.? It was Garrett?s voice. ?I forgot to tell you.? In the background Kincade could hear someone else ask Garrett a question. The voice was muffled but Garrett?s answer was clear. ?No, he?s not me. Now shut up.?

?Kincade, sorry about that, the list is in the fridge. Take it easy.? The line went dead.

[b]TAG: BartSimpson-SithLord[/b]

[hr]

[b]Boston Medical Center
June 6th, 2012
02:32[/b]

He sat there pretty much forgotten. His cloths were dirty, and his arms were scratched. He had a small cut above his right eyebrow that could probably use a stitch or two.

The boy, who appeared to be five or six, was brought in with his mother. The officer had told the Nurse that the family had been attacked on the streets. The father had been beaten to death and the mother was left for dead. They don?t know why the child was in as good a shape as he was. He was found holding onto his mother.

That had been three hours ago. Now he sat there. Waiting. His mother was in ICU and DHS was on their way.

And so he sat there. Alone.

[b]TAG: Spycoder[/b]

 

IC: Alex Rouse
Corben's Inn, Nevada


Alex glanced over the menu, though his focus was still on the girl whose name remained unknown to him. His head was darting back and forth, trying not to be too obvious, moving between the menu and the waitress. The handful of seconds that he could see her, something was different about her. As she conversed with the older gentlemen her composure seemed more solid than ever.

Steak and egg breakfast -cooked to order- with choice of hashbrowns or grits and a side of toast, biscuits, or cornbread muffin.

Her lips moved carefully and she spoke distinctly, like that of a leader speaking with confidence or certainty.

Chicken and dumplings served with cinnamon baked apples and a veggie of choice.

She offered her hand to the man and her eyes were locked on him, her look was so sure...what could they be talking about? Does she know that man? Perhaps it was her father? Alex tried at first to listen in to what they were saying, but the general noise in the diner drowned out the sound of their voices, and if caught eavesdropping he could never explain nor forgive himself. He looked up at the waitress again, this time met with a glance from her as she was leaning forward on the counter.

"Dammit Alex! You've been caught."

But again words failed him. Nothing was spoken. He just sat there, menu in hand, staring at the girl with an awkward smile and his mind still undecided.


TAG:SWBeauty, Corben's Inn people, Fin

 

John Henley
Corben´s Inn

"Excellent." Was all he said, when hearing the Corben´s still owned this place and he would get his eggs the way he had hoped for. Watching the woman go away, he had a look around. He felt lonely. The way he felt for most of his time since his wife was gone. Even among people he did. The unskilled advance of the young man to the second waitress made him smile. As did the waitress obvious sympathy for the elder man with the hat. Something was strange about that man. But people were strange these days.

The tune above played out. I hung my head, I hung my head.

He smiled and nodded. Taking a sip of his coffee he tried to spot the young man from outside. But he was somewhere on his rack and couldn´t be seen. Then he returned watching the young man at the bar. Something was in hte air. Something that made his coffee taste more bitter. The eggs suddenly had the potential of never reaching his table. He had got familiar with this smell. With this aura of heaviness. It was the scent of death. And he set down his coffee and suddenly felt afraid.


Tag: Fin

 

IC:

Hamburg

Hikaru awoke from a very bad sleep. His head was dizzy.
Slowly he opened his eyes. Dim light floated through his window. It was raining again. He took his glasses.

Hikaru was used in getting up early. Usually he ate some rice, went out to train in the gym, so when he returned midday, his thoughts were freed and clear for the tasks of this day. His flat mates actually didn't know where he went, even if they were wondering about hikarus sport's bag, which was escecially long to pack his bokken. He would keep it that way. Gaijin had a weird view of martial arts, stamped by violent action movies. He didn't want to be challenged by a brute who just wanted to make fun of him.

This morning anyway, Hikaru felt he hadn't have enough sleep. He dreamed something weird but he couldn't remember.
He turned away his blanket to reveal his colouful Sailor Moon-Pyjama and got on his feet. Automatically he kneeled before his japanese bedstead and rolled it together, hiding it in his wardrobe.

His head was even more cloudy while standing. He coulldn't concentrate on today's tasks. He needed breakfast. All other things would have to wait. Without his ritual swordforms he weren't concentrated anyway.

He opened the door and went to kitchen without changing clothes. But when he just arrived there was a barrier between him and his beloved rice-cooker: his flat-mate Thomas.
Hikaru didn't know how people survived without sleep. His idea of living without sleep was going crazy or something. Probably it did, because Thomas was dancing even wilder than the oni in traditional japanese theater did. He had an i-pod in his ears and was jumping like he had flews. Hikaru hoped this wasn't the case. It would prove his father's opinion of gaijins right: They don't wash and smell like dogs!

But Hikaru liked Europeans and their legends and religions. He did always opposed his father in that. They weren't so bad at all. But this one was between him and his morning rice. Obviously deaf, he would not even hear an "Excuse me", so Hikaru needed another solution of the Problem.

He chose the japanese way to do: He stood in the middle of the door and waited for Thomas to discover him. Then he would give some signals what his intention was. It would probably take some time, but it was polite and Hikaru wanted his flat mates to like him.
Come on Gaijin, open your eyes.

TAG:LordTroepfchen, Sirak, Fin

 

Laura Blohm
Tarpenbekstr. 55

Yawning, she realized how late it was. God, hopefully nobody did block the bathroom. Pushing a T-Shirt over her naked body she was still yawning and fighting with her hair, as she went into the kitchen. Tom obviously had just returned. And even though she hated to admit, she loved how he had fun in life. Something she found incredibly attractive. Actually too much, lately. Robert still hadn´t called back and what Tom and her did a week beofre . . . was probably the reason. Remembering that, she greeted the Japanese guy instead. "Morning Hoshi." She smiled. "You don´t mind if I take the bath first, do you?" She was already at the door. "Thanks, too sweet of you. And could you stop staring at my legs, guys?"

And then she was in the small bathroom. Bathrooms in Hamburg sucked. all the older buildings had that very long and narrow bathrooms, were you had to crawl over the toilet to get into the shower. She hated that. She really did.

But she had not time to shower, anyway. Maybe when she was watching the Professors little daughter she could. If she remembered to take a towel with her. Instead she took a scrubber and began working on her hair. While her second hand tried to find the right magic wand to recreate what the night of crying had left of her face in her cosmetic bag.

"Dammit, why do I have to be such a fool!" Laura cursed and decided a ponytail and one of her nicer hats was the only chance to save her. She threw water into her face and breathed out. Then she took her cosmetic and opened the door, speeding towards her room again. As Tom had not yet realized the presence of their far to polite Japaneses roommate, she took one step back and grabbed one of the GEZ bills. Grinning she folded it together and threw it at Tom´s head. Then retreated to her room again.

Clothes were easy. She took one of her tight, black polo neck jumpers. The one in which she especially liked how her breasts looked. She added Jeans and her old but reliable brown boots. They had a little too much heels for her taste, but made her look good. Her tailored black coat that looked so much more noble and expensive then it really was and the black leather backpack and she was ready to go. Grabbing her Iphone, her keys and cigarettes she checked her mails a last time, before leaving frustrated her room. Robert, why don´t you call me?

"Wir sehen uns!" She yelled to the guys and had to run to catch the underground. She did her best to avoid Thomas. Who had not said or hinted anything about the night they had spend together.

When had her life began spiralling out of control like that?

Tag: Myself (I work on a series of combined with Fin, to tell Laura´s story)

 

Godot
Central Commons - Boston Commons
June 6th, 2012
02:32

As was frequently the case, Godot was tempted to allow John to attack him. After all, nothing would have served as a better confirmation or disproval of his existence than his own death - but then, if he was merely flesh and blood, he would not be able to stop Caleb. Furthermore, in death one was completely at the mercy of god - and Godot couldn't take that chance. Besides, he merely needed to interrogate John - and you really only needed the head and the upper body for that.

Diving out of the path of John's assault, Godot opened fire with both guns, firing multiple shots at all four limbs and the groin - taking care to avoid, say, hitting the head or any vital organs, but not really caring if the kidneys or liver had to be sacrificed for the greater good.

He also wasn't particularly concerned with potential collateral damage, because unlike John, Dave was unimportant to him. Of course, if the other man had known what was in his best interest, he wouldn't have kept standing in the immediate vicinity.

TAG: Anvil

 

Episode One, Chapter Two
In Character: Dr. Camden Fossett
(NPC's: Gina)
Boston Medical Center, Boston

As Camden looked around the small area, he felt someone put their hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Gina, as she led him around the corner. As Camden walked forward, he noticed the injured child, in need of special attention, and hurried on, thanking Gina for her trouble. But she stopped him before he could go an farther. ?Camden, the boy was found with his dead father and injured mother. She is currently in the ICU. Just giving you a short bio, because that is all we know,? she said, and then walked on.

Camden approached the small boy, and noticed the cut above his eyebrow, the scratched arms. Camden noted the dirty clothing, along with the fact that he was five or six. Camden headed forward, and then stopped beside the child, the little boy, He felt something attracting him to the child, something nice and warm about him. ?Hello, little boy. What might your name be? And also, would you agree to follow me, as to heal your injuries??

TAG: Republic_Anvil

 

Chapter IV: An American Nightmare

A few weeks earlier . . .
Near Austin, Lander County


The FBI Agents raised their brows, as the new "suits" arrived. Brought to the site in a military helicopter and wearing no insignia, they behaved as if the present Agents were the local Deputies. Special Agent Duprix was not so impressed. The man had seen worth and if the eighties did not made him get rid his moustache, these greenhorns from Washington wouldn´t make him loose this case. "Gentlemen, this is an FBI investigation. Ongoing and I am afraid I have to ask you to leave!" He said in a stern tone as he approached both men from behind. They were wearing black suits and sunglasses. Had suitcases. And this look at the body they looked down on, that told him, they had seen bodies before. He was not that impressed. Violent times, they lived in.

"Special Agent, have you secured the facility? I mean the underground facility?" The younger of both asked. A man in his thirties, probably. Duprix looked at him, but nodded. The man handed him a paper. And Duprix fell silent.

"And this is the only body of the fifteen employees of the company?" The young man still asked. Duprix nodded again. A paper factory with a secret research station beneath it. Obviously some high profile operation. Probably even government financed. Duprix had gotten that far. "Kidnapped, probably." He said, realizing the paper he had been given had just made sure he would not get rid of these arrivals.

"Unlikely. Any leads to the attackers?" The young man asked and the older on touched the body down there.

"They seem to have spread. Car tracks into two different directions. We guess one has moved south, the other group of at least three cars moved north. May I ask you ,what connection you have to this . . ."

The young man did not allow this sentence to be ended. "Actually no. You may not. As I see, you will be no help. Please take your men and leave us alone. Now!" He said and turned to the elder man. Kneeling down besides the body again he sighed. "Two teams. The thief and the cleaners to cover his tracks. Second team probably did not even know the first one." He sighed. "And they knew what they came for and when they should. I bet we will find only one specimen missing." He said and bit his lip. Duprix was talking in the background, but was completely ignored. The elder man nodded.
"Call Rome." He then said and gave the younger a stern look. "We need a hunter. The best they can give us." He said with a rapsy voice.
The younger man nodded. "You have no trust in the officials here? Maybe . . ."
"No, this is too important. The specimen MUST NOT get into the wrong hands. You of all of us should know . . ."

The younger man nodded. "Of course, Bishop."

Tag: Nobody



Corben´s Inn

Joshua Rouse saw the attempt of his son to talk to that girl. In many ways the boy was still . . . a boy. They wouldn´t be here long enough for these two to develop anything. And his son hadn´t even answered his question about the trip, before charging of after her only to . . . well, fail at making contact in a way. Joshua had to smile. He had been like this in his son´s age. What an embarrassing heritage he had given his beloved boy there. And smiling he stood up and approached his son from behind.
"Two Coke Diet, please." he said to the waitress Sharon, who had asked his son if he wanted something, but had not been able to grab his attention.
His hand lay down on the boys shoulder and his voice was suppressed whisper, as he leaned on the desk and looked over to the object of his sons desire.
"Alex, you wanna have a good advice on girls from your old man?" He asked and smiled at the boy. Somewhere behind them the door opened.

Tag: Mecatolrex


Corben turned his back on the room, so his customers could not see him grin, as he intercepted Sharon and took her by the arm. "You know who that is? the guy you just served? You know WHO that is?" He grinned. Since Sharon had began working here, he had n

 

Alex Mcrea

Home, Middlesex
2012-08-06

The Light That Blinds...


I was never fond of bright lights, and sudden exposure to bright lights was my least favorite form. Admittedly my initial urge when the light flooded my vision, turning the world white, was to pull the trigger but thankfully my own version of commonsense kicked in. Zombies didn't use flashlights, and at the time the only other particular form of undead I was somewhat concerned about was Vampires. And so far as I knew Vampires weren't fond of bright lights themselves, and didn't actually need them to see in the dark. So I hesitated and I'm glad I did. The familiar voice of Sheriff Handerson caught my attention and at his request I lowered the gun. Mostly from not wanting him to have a reason to confiscate it.

I rubbed my forehead with my left hand, letting my eyes readjust to the illumination as I listened to Handerson go into why he was here and why he had walked right in. Taking a moment to process what he'd said I finally replied. "No, I didn't hear you. I was in the basement." Handerson knew why, but I was in a somewhat unsettled mood so I went into the details anyway. "I got tired of the pain in the ass complaints about me watching my movies so I moved the God forsaken Living Room down there so it'd not bother the neighbors pretty little ears." The subject was something of great annoyance to me, it was fine for their dogs to come and **** all over my ******* yard but the moment I turned my TV on the Law had to be notified.

Not wanting the good Sheriff to go into a speech about neighborhood laws and other bull**** like that I moved the conversation along, "I don't remember leaving my door open by the way." Paranoid as I was, paranoid as he knew I was, did he seriously think I'd left the door open? I wasn't sure at the time, I didn't really feel like asking. No, instead I just flipped the light switch off to my left and looked around. "What sorta suspicious character are we talking about here? Whoever it is, ******* had better not of taken any of my stuff." I sorta doubted it, normally the only sorta suspicious activity in the area was some drunk ******* or druggie to out of it to realize it wasn't their home. Of course that was back when normal was the norm. This was 2012 after all.

tag: GM

 

Jackson Clay
Corben´s Inn

"Well, the Bacon Burger it is then." He said and forced another smile towards her. "With an Rootbeer, please." Jackson gave the boy at the counter another look, then the Country singer, who had obviously been recognized a few seconds ago. "And I wonder, my dear, if you would have heard of anything . . . unusual happening here, lately? As a servant of so many noble institutions, I am sure you wouldn´t have missed anything disturbing to the flock." In the corner of his eye he saw someone passing the window on his way to the entrance. He had memorized every face, by now. But except the great friendliness of this girl, he had observed nothing special about this place. Maybe he had been wrong. Or he was simply early enough.

Like a spider, Jackson. Hunt like a spider. With patience.

His eyes returned to Vashti to look at her when she answered, just the second the door opened.

Tag: swbeauty, Fin, others in there

 

IC: Vashti Schick
Corben's Inn

"A rootbeer and a bacon burger it is." Vashti wrote in her signature script on the little notebook in front of her. She went to leave, thinking this was the end of their encounter. He spoke again and she turned to face him one more time.

"And I wonder, my dear, if you would have heard of anything . . . unusual happening here, lately? As a servant of so many noble institutions, I am sure you wouldn´t have missed anything disturbing to the flock."

What a strange question. Then again, he seemed to be a curious and strange man. An older man came up behind the boy she'd talked to earlier and she wondered if that was his father.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Vashti brought her attention back to the man in front of her and tried to remember if she had heard of anything.

"Well, no, I really can't remember hearing or seeing anything strange recently."

Looking up, her eyes traveled to the door that was just opened.

"Except for that." She pointed to the door behind him. "That or I guess he, means trouble."

Glancing over to Gil, Vashti hoped he had seen Gordon Russ coming in.

"God please don't let him cause anything to serious." Praying mentally, she put on a brave face.

Tag: TheSithGirly, Mecatolrex, Fin, others at Corben's Inn

 

ooc: posting this for Sir_Draco who got problems reaching the boards.

Rufus Jameson
Palace

Frustrated he pulled the cigarette back to the package and looked down at Lilith. He smiled about her comment on her dress. "There is always a catch, is there?"

Then he followed her suggestion and got dressed. Indeed, he expected the whole thing to begin, soon. Just like her. Why would they have brought him here in such a hurry, when they have all the time of the world? He almost jumped out of the bed, getting into his jeans and taking his shirt. Fighting with the buttons and the tie for a moment, until he got it together. His gun vanished in his belt, at his back and his cheap jacket was pulled over his arms and shoulders to hid it. As he did, he heard something rattling in it. Matches.

Grabbing them from the side pocket, he gave Lilith a smile. And took the cigarette from package again.

"So, they are looking for someone. Someone I can better find than you guys. So it´s digging in the dirt for me, with better payment and in foreign languages, but hey . . . a man should earn his money, right?" He thought out loud. Actually watching her reaction, but without allowing it to show. The fire ignited, when the sulfur reacted to the heat of being ripped of the wooden desk next to his bed and he gently lit his cigarette, taking a deep breath.

"What do you think chances of the guy we´re going to fin for them are to get out of this alive?" Rufus asked. Mustering Lilith. "Just because getting someone killed will cost extra. You know?" And his second breath was soaked into his lungs. It calmed him, made him focus. But the taste of Nepali cigarettes sucked.

He still puzzled who Lilith was. The holy whore? The femme fatal to make this Nepal version of a film noir complete? Or simply the woman who was holding the strings and made them all dance to it . . . ? Maybe she was the killer. Killer´s in real life did look like killers. So maybe she would deliver the death blow to whoever was so unlucky to get their attention. Or she was forced into this, just as she had said. Dammit, she might also be here to get rid of witnesses, sunnyboy. Like you!

"Ready for anything." He muttered to himself.

Tag: Sinrebirth, Fin

 

Chapter III: Safe From Harm


Near the St. Thomas Church, Boston

Sam Lyon was obviously confused, overwhelmed by the surreal situation. But Olvier Banks was not. Another veteran of the near-eastern conflict, he was just about to leave his bus, as he saw the men beating down someone. He raised a brow in curiosity and then realized he knew the victim. Nick Costa.
"Nick!" He gasped out, but could not even decide to help his friend and member of his veteran circle. The old instincts were back immediately. Banks had been special forces. A so called Black Ops. First for the army, then a few years Xe to earn some money. He had killed a lot in his five turns out there and a man of his skills could not fight "soft". The first of them was ripped down so fast, the other had little time to react. The boy got a kick while the next already felt his arm twist and break. The scream cooled the others down, instantly. The looked at Oliver, who dragged Nick out from under them and suddenly they all turned and went there way. As if nothing had happened. The man in the suit looked down on Nick as if he did not understand what was going on, at all.

"You´re okay, bro? What did you do to them? They really hated you!" Oliver gasped out, holding his friend. And cleaning his face. One of the rips felt broken, but otherwise he was badly beaten up and bleeding from a few spots, but okay.


Tag: WiseJedi, Nick



St. Thomas Church, Boston

Roland was now uncontrolled crying. His hand grabbed the fine grid between him and the Father McEneny. It was clearly visible, he had blood all over it, with small pieces of . . . skin and flesh.
"I . . . I . . . I couldn´t do anything else. They forced me, you hear me? Father. The Devil. The Devil . . . oh god, my kid! My KID!" He cried out, and at that moment he ripped open the door of the confessional and staggered out of it like a drunk. His crying was still clear to hear. "LIIIIZY!" He cried out and hammered his hand into one of the benches. The second time he hammered something into it it was his head. Blood began to spread from it.

Tag: BobaMatt


McRea´s House, Middlesex

"Dunno, have a look around. Tell us if anything is missing. Tell me, Alex. You´ve been drinking?" Handerson was not the subtle kind of questioner. He said what he wanted to get rid of, usually. Before Alex could answer, he saw something lying there on the old desk, that was mostly the only thing left of his former living room. Simply because it was to big to be brought to the cellar.

"The guy has killed someone." One of the Deputies said. Handerson´s look told Alex, the Sheriff had planned to let that question go unanswered.

On the white piece of paper, which looked like an unused piece of copy paper, was written something. An address?

Industrial Drive 3. Corner Somerset Street. Warehouse.

That was all written there. What was a little more disturbing was, it looked a lot like the handwriting of his own brother.

Tag: Kahn

---

[color=purple][b]Chapter V: Einstein was right[/b][/color]


[i]Charlesbridge, Prague[/i]

[b]Kleym[/b] felt his shirt tighten around his neck. And cleared his throat. He was aware that things had grown increasingly odd, lately. But this man was something to fear. Only one thing could frighten him even more. The person watching such an seemingly ageless predator, as if that was nothing to worry about. Kleym had killed to get this file. Not personally. He had never taken a live himself. But his helpers. And it had been worth it. But now there was no way back. He was with Morris, or he would have to answer the men he had stolen from alone. [b]Morris[/b] getting to them first, was actually his only chance.

"I . . ." He coughed out and then forced his face to smile. While he grew pale. "I decided by coming here, did I? And my price is non-negotiable. One." He seemed to hold his breath for a second, but was more calm and confident when he returned to speaki

 

IC: Sharon Cosner
Corben's Inn, Nevada, USA

"Two Diet Cokes, coming right up." Sharon scribbled a quick note and turned back to the counter, fully intending to get two cans from the fridge.

Instead, she was intercepted by a widely-grinning Gil Corben. "You know who that is? the guy you just served? You know WHO that is?" Sharon blinked, nonplussed; she certainly didn't, nor had she ever seen Gil this excited in the (admittedly short) while she'd worked for him. "It´s him!"

Still mystified, Sharon switched to Martha, who had come up to them holding up an old CD case. "John Henley!" she giggled, obviously enthusiastic. "The Country singer!"

Oh. Sharon blinked, widening her eyes. Now she understood. "Ohh."

Oh, indeed. That explained it, actually - she had, simply put, never been a fan of country music. She had grown up listening to pop-rock in Chicago and her tastes hadn't changed much since then. She might've heard his songs before (and now she also belatedly realised one of his songs were playing - the lyrics matched the title on the CD cover) but she could apparently talk to the guy without having any idea who he was. She glanced over her shoulder at the man, then back at the CD - yes, that was him. Well now, you learned something new every day.

"Is that really him??" Sharon grinned, tilting up the CD cover to get a better look. "He looks so young! I had no idea - does he come here often?"

TAG: Fins, all in Corben's Inn

 

Thomas Schröder
Flat, Tarpenbekstr. 55

Dancing, his eyes snapped open, as something hit him. He realized someone was nearby. Aaaah, there he was. The Japanese student with the stick somewhere where the sun was never shining. Thomas grinned. A broad gin. Something had to be done to show this guy the pleasures of life.

"Hoooooooooooshi!" He danced before him. "What can I do for you, pal." And waving around his arms, he looked at Laura, as she passed by. "Have I missed you showering, honey?" He asked, but she was already gone and he turned back to Hoshi. "You know what, I fear for your studies, my friend." he said and continued dancing. "You are missing an essential aspect of our culture. Culture. Cul, cul cul turey." He hissed out. "YEAH!" And made way for Hoshi to get wherever he wanted to. Looking after Laura, the fact she ignored him after having slept with him annoyed him mildly. But not too bad. Not as bad as the fact he had probably missed her running around with nothing but her T-Shirt again. Oh these amazing legs.

"What do you think about Laura, hm? You Japanese guys are said to be digging the volleyball player type. Right?" He asked and watched at the door, as if he expected her to return any second now.

In his head the idea of a Krieger remix took shape. Maybe it was not that good an idea, considering Sony´s policy . . . frek it. The Change was coming. And if there was anything smart about the Change, it would eat up Sony!

Tag: BenStormrider, Fin

 

Rosheen Sharma
-North of Chinatown

He clinched his teeth as he heard the gunshot, but he knew what to do. His ears registered where the shot came from and he also saw in the reflection of the windshield of the police car a flash that inidcated where the shooter must be standing. After getting hand signs from captain obvious that someone had been shot, Rosheen signaled that he was about to go in.

He breathed halfway deeply then, without warning ducked into the building and fired three shots where he saw a man with a gun standing. Once he was in the store, the darkness adjusted itself to his eyes and he could see better, but he had no time to enjoy the lighting and instead dove behind the counter for cover, ready to return fire if he had missed. Hell, even if he hadn't missed. This guy did not exactly seem like the kind of guy who would cry about his wounds and then peacefully surrender.

Rosheen waited a coupleof seconds before aiming his gun back over the counter, looking for the killer while also searching for other hostages.

Tag: Anvil

 

IC: Markus J. F. Christianson
Bremen Airport Hotel - Now ESTI Command

"Ah." he queitly commented as he took one last look at the flames roiling throughout China, and the blatantly terrible repurcussions that it could possibly cause. Especially with the standing size of the Chinese military, let alone the possible numbers if they performed a mass recruitment, a thing that an outraged populace might even welcome. Something to make most analysts blanch and check the maps for distances and ship or air accessability of their location.

The monitors Jonas pointed out didn't hold that much interest to him, not even Kiel. Not beyond a sigh at the desolate nature, an intrigue as to what it could be bothering three towns, but his focus was still bothered by something that had probably given him one to many nightmares of late.

Jonas sighed. "We got your working place over there." He pointed to the corner of the room. "But if you want an advice from a man who´s been in here for a week or two . . . clean up your life first, then go to work. Once you´re in, there is no out. The Change never sleeps, never waits, never stops to surprise you." He nodded, clapped his shoulder again and turned to several analysts.

As the analysts talked he looked at the screaming shadow, feeling his own hackles raise, his own fears...even though he knew he had nothing to fear but God, and even then it was not a fear like most understood. It was a fear of not having done what He would have wanted of him.

Still, he feared for his daughter, and that when he arrived only a stain in horror and pain would be left to greet him.

"I need a car. Full tank." it was asked more like an uncertain question than a commanding request to Jonas, but well, it was hard to put any steel in a voice that is holding back a floodgate of fear. Some voiced in worries for his daughter, and even his Ex-wife, but some unvoiced such as the question of...is that smear on a wall my father crying out in agony for however long it stands intact? Is my brothers fate any better?

One had to be answered, that was his legacy. "GPS or a map to Hamburg as well." yes, those words came out a little bit stronger, more like a statement than a question. Now if he could just hold it together....

TAG: Fin

 

Hikaru Hoshi
Hamburg

Finally Thomas was aware of Hikaru Hoshi. Thanks to Laura, who threw some papers at Thomas. She was so... well, actually SEXY when she showed her legs.
My Heroine, Hoshi thought when Thomas made some room for him to move into the room. He bowed a little before he straightly went to his state-of-the-art rice-cooker. This thing was essential for every modern asian (especially those who were living in west culture) because it had a timer included. Hikaru had it programmed on his usual breakfast. The rice was cooked half an hour ago and was now kept warm for hours.
Hikaru took a sheet of nori from the fringe and got himself as much damping rice as he could get in his hand and formed it to a fist-sized ball, while answering to Thomas, unsure if he would even hear his words inspite of the i-pod:
"Arigato, Thoma-san. I need to feed my stomach before I feed my mind with anything other. You can teach me your aspect of culture later."

Hikaru grabbed a bottle of isotonic lemonade out of the fringe and wanted to vanish into his room when Laura said a loud good-bye. "Tschissi!" Hikaru responded in a try of accurat german.
Back in his room Hkaru packed the bottle to the bokken in his sports-bag and added his perfectly white gi and his black hakama while eating his rice-ball. He needed his iso-drink when some of the rice got stuck in his throat and made him cough. There were better breakfasts, but he just needed a quick one.
After that he changed clothes into a common jeans and a T-shirt. A look at the window reminded him to the rain, so he added a pac-man pullover with a hood. With his jacket,an umbrella and yellow rubber boots he was armed against the weather outdoor.

With his sports-bag in hands, he said goodbye before opening the door and left the appartment to get to the gym.
"Sayonara, Thoma-san! See you later!"

TAG: Fin, LordTroepfchen

 

Something Dark is Coming . . .

2nd February 1986, Library of the Linguistic Faculty, Humbold University, Germany

Prof. Dr. Sebastian Falk had been reading and when he was reading he forgot the world around him. He had not realized, that the day had passed and it had grown dark. Had not realized the young people, students mostly, around him vanish one by one. Only occasional when one of them dared to say goodbye he had looked up and nodded. He had not realized a man was standing in front of him, waiting to be recognized. As that did not happen, the man, a priest as his clothing revealed, coughed. And when that did still not worked a coughed again. Louder.

[image=http://www.inside-digital.de/img/news/n2932.jpg] [image=http://z.about.com/d/lost/1/G/m/1/-/-/Yemi.jpg]

That finally got Sebastian Falk´s attention. He raised his head, looked confused around as if he did not know where he was but managed to smile politely then. "Wie kann ich ihnen helfen, mein Herr?" He asked.

The black skinned priest returned the smile. His was a little more helpless than the Professors.

"Professor Falk, I am afraid I do not command such knowledge about languages as you do. Would it be asked for too much to keep the following conversation in English?" His accent was heavy. Some country from southern Africa. The Professor was a little surprised. Again he looked around but then nodded and waved with his arm to offer them an a seat. He appeared to be surprised to be addressed by someone. The priest sat down.

"Of course not. what can I do for you, Father?" Prof. Falk put a piece of paper between the pages where he had stopped reading in the book in front of him and turned his attention now fully to the priest.

"Let me introduce myself. I am Father Mengo Haile Maciste from the Catholic Church of Ethiopia. I have come here because wherever I went, I was told you are the man I need to talk to. I have heard you speak 47 languages, Professor. And read as many? They say you are the Einstein of Languages. And also as skilled in mathematics." He said, his polite smile never vanishing. Prof. Falk breathed out and took his glasses from his face, cleaning them. "That is a very rough comparison, that holds little value, except sounding . . . meaningful." He said and looked at the priest who now laid a slim black metal-briefcase onto the table. Looking at the briefcase as if his eyes could pierce the metal shell he then turned his face up again.
"But the estimation of the languages is rough but correct. There are many ways to master a language, though. and if there is any way I could call myself a true master of even one of them, is highly doubtful. But enough of that. What problems do you have that my colleagues did suggest you´d see me?" The Father smiled only at the lecture. obviously he was a polite and patient man.
"I have a text, Sir. A text of almost 800 pages and nobody can translate fit for me. Not even a word." He said and opened his briefcase. He removed a single page of text from it and handed it to the Professor. He gave it a long look and sighed. Pushing his glasses up on his nose he neared the text. "I thought someone with your natural ability and skill in deceiving codes and languages of all kinds might be just the person to see about this riddle then." The Father folded his hands and the Professor ignored him altogether.

His were on the text. Copied to a single white piece of paper.

"It is Ge´ez." He then said. "But early. Proto--Ge´ez probably. From the time before the Aksum Empire. This is only a copy, i guess. From the way they use their glyphs . . ." The Professor stood up. He went to the books behind him and took one. "Classical Ge´ez is a rare language. Ge'ez consonants have a triple opposition between voiceless, voiced, and ejective obstruents. The Proto-Semitic emphasis in Ge'ez has been generalized to include emphatic p?. Ge'ez h

 

Somewhat of a later joiner but..

GM Aproved!


Name: Daniel Beckfris
Age: 45-55ish looking.
Nationality: Swedish
Faith: While he doesn't denounce God, gods or any higher sentient being. He doesn't really care.
Appearance:[image=http://www.bewilderedsociety.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/2markstrong1.jpg]
Special Skills/Areas of Expertise: A real genius, studied Social Engineering, computer science, string theory, physics, biology.. well, just about anything.
Equipment: Briefcase, suit of excellent quality, credit card, cellphone, cigarettes and a golden zippo lighter.
Bio:

Son of Baron Carl and Baroness Agneta Beckfris he was born into the Swedish noble society. To his parents joy he showed clear signs of being a young genious. And at the age of twelve he had already graduated High school and was shipped overseas to the University of Oxford to study just about anything, which he did with great success. Mastering several subjects and published quite a few essays in both string theory and human cloning. While not revolutionary ideas, still impressive for someone at the age of 17.
His relationship with his parents is good. Like a good son he calls them on regular occasions to check up on the family affairs and how they are doing. Daniel Beckfris can be described as a charming well mannered man with a strict sense of loyalty to his work. Always well dressed and always polite, never angry but never quite satisfied either. Talking to Daniel for a while and you will notice that while he listens to what you are saying, follows you in the conversation his mind is really elsewhere.
Daniel is of noble blood and prides himself of being it, not that it gives any certain benefits outside of Sweden, it still comforts him to know that beside being one of the smartest on the planet, he's also a little bit better since he's.. well, noble. And nobles are always better, don't you agree?

The big change in his life came at the age of 21. It did not include any dramatic events such as explosions, death in the family or a sexual experience with an older man in a public sauna. While some of these things did happend the most important event was quite small and insignificant in the eyes of the observer.
Daniel Beckfris was simply sitting at his desk in his four room winter apartment in Rome (he hates the northern cold) working on some new theory that would revolutionize medical research when he suddenly realized that he simply didn't give a rats ass about medicine, science or any of all the things he'd been studying for the past nine years.

With this newfound insight he slowly turned his office chair and looked out his window and thought "Well, what am I going to do? Kill myself? No, seems rather dull. Get a normal job? Seems even more dull. Well.. what about if I destroy something? Blow something up. Terrorists seems to do it quite efficiently, and explosions are always fun."

Daniels first attempt was to simply blow up a single man, as a scientific test. Could he do it? Push the button and end someone else's life? Would he get caught doing it? Said and done one late night after a busy week of attaining explosives and producing a wireless detonator he kidnapped an elderly man and drove him to an old abandoned industrial district. There he tied the old man to a chair, placed the explosives in the mans lap and walked away.
The man of course begged for his life. Daniel walked to a safe distance and looked at the man he was about to blow up, tried to feel any compassion, any.. empathy. Nope, nothing.
Boom!
Suddenly there were old man parts every where and Daniel Beckfris felt a joy he'd never felt before. This was awesome!
No one had seen him, no one had heard the old man. The car was stolen, he had made sure that he left no dna or fingerprints. Not a trace, and just to make sure he drove the car to the other end of the industrial district, set the car on fire and went on his merry way home. He was going to outsmart the legal system, Daniel was going to outsmart everyone and blo

 

Alex McRea

Home, Middlesex
2012-08-06

I Drink Alone...


"Drinking?" I asked, less then pleased at the question, mostly cause of its asker, "Why yes Sheriff, My well known addiction to caffeine has developed into something that puts me to sleep. No my head might feel like I topped off a bottle of Red Label but no, I haven't had anything other then Coffee." I waved any further question on the subject off with my hand as I moved off into my former living room. I didn't really keep anything in there but the desk, so the note was easy to spot. Mostly cause I didn't use the desk anymore.

As I moved over to the desk one of the deputies let slip something, that from the look on the Sheriff's face, he wanted kept quiet. "Ah I see. Somebody died so you come rushing to the gun crazy redneck's house." I rolled my eyes to myself and picked up the piece of paper. It was an address, but, the handwriting. It looked like John's. But it couldn't have been. Thats what I thought. John hadn't been doing much of anything in, forever. He sure as hell wasn't writing addresses on pieces of paper.

Shaking my head for a second a read the address outloud, "Industrial Drive 3. Corner Somerset Street. Warehouse. You're suspicious individual known for leaving notes and addresses Sheriff? Cause unless I'm just not rememberin' I didn't put this here."

Tag: GM

 

ooc: Some interesting additions and a rather intruiging backround piece you had there, Fin

Jackson Clay
Corben´s Inn

Jackson Clay followed her look and saw the man on his way inside. Beneath the blanket was a rifle. Something compact. He got that at first look. Surely he was trouble. Looking around most had not yet realized he was coming their direction. They would be taken by surprise.

"Does he have any trouble with you peole?" Jackson asked cooly, as if he had perceived no danger and sipped from his coffee. This was more than a disaster. Man made disaster wherever he went. This was foremost an opportunity. Looking into the black of his coffee he allowed his second hand to rest at the table, not too far away from his old pistol. He needed to keep the girl nearby, or she could easily get into the line of fire. "He surely looks like a troubled man." He kept on speaking. If she only replied, she would not reach the counter. The most obvious target of the man.

And in his heart this dark spot opened again. This darknesss he so desperatly tried to bury. But the Lord did not allow that. The taint of his soul he had brought upon himself was now the Lords and the Lord could do with it what he wished. The verses of an ancient greek came to his mind. As they did so often, lately. There is a time for everything . . .

Tag: Fin, swbeauty, others

 

Central Commons - Boston Commons
June 6th, 2012
02:00 ? 03:00

Godot?s bullets found their marks, and John?s rushing attack suddenly turned into a staggering attempt to overcome inertia.

He failed.

John slammed head first into a low brick wall. He heaved himself over onto his back before becoming very still.

Blood pooled out from the bullet wound in his leg. From the rate at which it grew Godot must have hit an artery. The man would be dead in a matter of minutes in the bleeding was not stopped.

TAG: Darthramza

---

[b]Boston Medical Center ? Boston
June 6th 2012
02:00 ? 03:00
[/b]

[i]?Hello, little boy. What might your name be? And also, would you agree to follow me, as to heal your injuries??[/i]

The boy looked at Camden. It was the first movement he had made since he arrived at the hospital. He didn?t speak. He only cocked his head quizzically to the side at Camden, as if unsure that this man was real.

Which is understandable for a traumatized child.

And Camden could see it in the boy?s eyes. Pain, that?s what those eyes have seen. Death is the thought that ran through the boy?s mind. He had seen his father murdered, and his mother had only a small chance to survive the night.

The boy reached out to Camden and took the young Doctor?s hand. That was apparently the extent of the boy?s willingness to answer the Doctor?s question. But the message was clear.

Yes.

[b]TAG: Spycoder[/b]
[hr]
[b]Boston Family Pharmacy ? Boston
June 6th 2012
02:00 ? 03:00
[/b]

As Sharma looked over the counter he saw the man with the gun standing there still facing the window. His eyes, now adjusted to the darkness, picked out the dark liquid running down the man?s chest.
The man?s knees gave out as he pitched forward. Dead before he even hit the ground.

Next to him was the body of a young woman, a bullet hole in her temple.

Just then Sharma heard the screeching tires of a large vehicle outside. Through the window he could see a police bus, the one he had called for, unloading a SWAT team.

[b]TAG: Blubeast1237 [/b]
[hr]
[b]Boston Medical Center ? Boston
June 6th 2012
02:00 ? 03:00
[/b]

Angela hung up the phone. Everyone she had called, from friends to colleagues, everyone that owed her a favor, had told her that there was no new outbreak of Angola-Ebola anywhere in the United States.

Add to that the fact that Anderson had taken the elevator to the morgue, a kind janitor had informed her that the key made the elevator a non-stop trip, and you had something fishy going on.

[b]TAG: TheSithGirly [/b]