fake lights. Read 1093 times


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fake lights.
« on: October 01, 2013, 05:00:23 am »
The sky was a shade of violets and dark blues, dotted with spots of light, the unreal stars of this synthetic sky that the world now embraced. Below it, loomed Hell's Gate as always, kept away from the public eye by an enormous steel wall, hidden behind an image much like their synthetic sky, the colors just a bit off, just enough to let the public know it was there. A constant reminder that was far more difficult to forget, unlike the fake sky that could be ignored if one really tried.

The city, despite Hell's Gate's looming presence, continued to expand, metal frames built on concrete foundations dotting various areas. It was here, amongst the construction, so dead at the middle of the night, that their target headed, hiding away where the shadows lurked.

In Leon's ear, his communication device crackled to life, a voice void of any emotion coming from the other end, the doll, Willow her specter undoubtedly searching every crevice for the rogue.

Behind him, a pile of metal bars exploded, their target's power. JB-213 had a talent for explosions, although the objects couldn't be living, which was extremely fortunate. Things would have been far more complicated if 213 could execute his powers on the living. It was also necessary for JB-213 to touch said object before it could explode, thus he must have been close by.

"The military is using contractors now?!" 213's voice echoed around the incomplete structure. He must have seen Leon teleport away from the explosion and its debris. Leon's grey-blue eyes scanned the area in front him, gun in hand, 213 was so close, but as long as the Delacroix man had no idea where he was located, his power was useless.

No doubt Willow was still looking, but with so much darkness and her single specter, it would take some time before the doll could find JB-213.

His ear piece came to life again, a voice, distinctly female and sharp, coming from the other end. Her voice a considerable contrast from the doll that had once filled it. "If you can't get him into range I can't take him out, 748. Use your star voodoo or whatever - just fucking get him!"

Impatient as ever, Leon thought, eyes continuing to scan the area fruitlessly. Crixa may have been having better luck. It was considerably important to get 213 from a distance as close combat was far too risky with someone able to cause explosions with a single touch. JB-213 couldn't explode living things but everything they wore was fair game.

It seemed obvious that the best option was for Cassi to snipe him, although JB-213 wasn't going to let that happen easily.

"Negative on a visual of JB-213" Leon responded, one gloved hand at his ear, the other holding onto a plastic red lighter, expertly clicking away.


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Re: fake lights.
« Reply #1 on: October 02, 2013, 12:18:51 am »
Crixa dangled his legs off the metal bar that would one day be part of supporting the fourth floor of whatever this thick skeleton was going to be. Cold on his ass, too. He flipped the collar of his jacket up. From London, this outwear, the large funnel-neck was supposed to provide anonymity from the cameras there. He'd bought if for vanity, of course.

In the box to his right, his secret weapon hissed. It kept him company while he looked at the beautiful fire that billowed out fast, where Duo13 would make his appearance. Completely unlike the patterns Lucky48 was able to preform, this contractor had to follow fairly straight lines. There were only so many locations the next explosion could appear, since he had to move on foot.

Another inception of energy, striking out like a cloud hungry for existence. Remaking the night air in lava. "Lucky48. I see. Duo13 just got underneath me. Boots, if you want you can lock on my position, if you've got the angle. 'Course you can keep the scope on me just because it's going to be a show, too." He rested the box on his shoulder, held it there firmly as he jumped to the second floor, and whatever bar was there to support him. Crixa zipped up all the way, until half his face was concealed. There would mostly be a rustle of silver hair and twin coals charged with a challenge for the contractor on the ground. This perp was fast. Better startle him.

"Orreah!" was enough to get most people's attention. Crixa descended in an arch, landing well - what had all that ballet training been good for, if not this? - with the box still leaned on him. He started unwrapping it quickly. "Army still has some humans on it's payroll, too, Two-one-three." he said, buying time as he tossed the lid to the side. "You can't explode living things, yes?" A smile the Contractor couldn't see through the protective collar. Crixa rushed forward, while there was nothing but the ground for the opponent to touch.

The box was left in his wake, empty. Crixa spun once on his toes, a good distance from 213. At the end of the lap, he extended his hand, his arm. That limb was infinitely longer, and reached to paint a breaking velt across the face of the enemy. Crixa held him at bay with the hand that followed, a trusty glock barking metal tips at the lashed Contractor. "Heard you can't explode living things." he said, swinging his long weapon. "This is something I picked up through the broken window of a pet-store." The snake curled it's tail around his wrist before he flicked it out again, its head well caught in Crixa's grip. He held the gun up, squeezing the handle hard as he lashed with the living whip again. He didn't imagine such an obvious attack would strike a second time. That's why he'd brought the gun. Hard to change mags with a snake in your other hand, though, and he was running low, he knew.

"This is Crixa. He on my twelve. My close twelve."