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The Nights and The Days

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Children born of the Sun will always seek it...

Children born of the Moon will always covet it..

These are truths that are unavoidable.


Many years ago, our world was split into two, after the many wars that occurred between both sides.

Sol, the world of the Sun, where light is the sole truth...

Luna, the world of the Moon, where shadow is the firm idealism...

Both worlds, the same, yet different. The split was unavoidable. The Ancient Ones could no longer stand to see their mortal races fight endlessly.


In Sol, the Sun always rises, and has never set, eternally blue, clouds shrouding the heavens. The rain here is pleasant, but it never snows, for the heat of the Sun would not allow such a thing. People walk among the roads eternally, living comfortably in the warm rays of the Sun. It is quiet here, like a lazy summer day. No progress is made here. The people of Sol are eternally stuck in the medieval ages, when the world was split.


In Luna, the Moon is immortal. The few rays of Sol's Sun that reflect on the moon are the only light here, save the myriad of stars that coat the blanket of infinite night. Here, progress is key. In the cold, endless night, technology is the triumph. Unlike the people of the Sun, who are pleased to simply sit idly by and let their lives go on, the people of the dark earn happiness through other means - whether it be sins or other dark actions. Crime here isn't unusual, since materials are the only way for people to enjoy themselves in this dark world. Nightclubs and prostitution run rampant, plus black markets and other things hidden in the shadows.


As such, both worlds have their pros and cons, and have lived this way for a thousand years. But recently, a few select people have felt... pulled. Those of the Daylight who have been chosen feel like they are incomplete, and people of the Moonlight who have been chosen feel a similar way. They are not pleased with their lives.


There is only one way for the worlds to meet, and it's been sealed. But the seal is weakening. The door is cracking open, allowing the lights of both worlds to cross.

But the Ancient Ones have gone silent and have said nothing of why this would be. Why are the worlds opening to each other again? What will happen if they meet once more, these people of the Sun who are content to simply exist, and these people of the Moon who desire nothing more than progress?


That choice is up to you, chosen ones.







Character Name:

World: (Sol/Luna)





Personality: (optional. I'll trust you to play well.)

Trinket: (Something from their world. This will be more explained later, after everyone has one.)







Username: lycrawaterz14

Character Name: Antoinette

World: Sol

Age: 19 or so

Gender: female

History: She was born into the light and knows nothing else, she loves everything golden and new. Her mother passed due to illness, but she bears no ill will because of it. She has the best green thumb and cares for all creatures. She doesn't know this, but she is a natural born inventor. She loves nurturing and building, watching progress is exciting. She's never developed this, but as of no she is excited to be married, though it is arranged and she knows not to whom.

Appearance: Bronzed hair from the sun, and eyes that reflect the sky. She is slender and thin, and lithe in build. She loves white in clothing.

Personality: (optional. I'll trust you to play well.)

Trinket: Her mother's music box, crudely made from metal of the earth melted in a forge. She treasures her device more than anything, as technology utterly fascinates her.



Username: Doctortear

Character Name: Lavellan “Kestrel” Slavica

World: Sol

Age: 26

Gender: Female

History: Born to a noble family, Kestrel never had to worry about her livelihood. The perks of having her mouth full of silver spoons greatly outweighed the cons when compared to peasant life. As she was a middle child, Kestrel did not receive the bulk of her parents’ attention and the desire to be noticed by them faded from her mind at an early age. Unfortunately for Kestrel, her parents did not neglect to use her for their own benefits. To her great outrage, Kestrel was placed into an arranged marriage at a young age to some lord’s son far over yonder. As Kestrel did not take her fancy with such a situation, she openly made her disgust of the circumstances clear and made herself as undesirable as possible. This, of course, proved to be a waste of energy as Kestrel was sent out to her fiancé at the age of fifteen. Though the two married and stayed as such for three years, their marriage was a loveless one with Kestrel doing as she commanded and her husband using her as nothing more than a plaything.


After an deplorable accident in which her husband found himself on the wrong end of an assassin's blade, Kestrel decided to flee from her live as someone’s trophy wife and start herself anew. Kestrel found herself partaking in the life as a sailor. Kestrel fell in love with the open sea and the thrill of the dangers that came with it. She adopted the nickname “Kestrel” which was an affectionate name that her fellow sailors bestowed upon her. She never contacted her family again and did what she could to make sure they wouldn’t find her. She slowly climbed up the ladder of power and eventually became a captain of her own at the age of twenty and scored a beautiful carrack by the name of The Red Lust which is her glory and pride.

Appearance: Fitting, comfortable clothing that is tightly secured where it needs to be and loose everywhere else is what Kestrel will wear. A white cloth blouse that hangs loosely from Kestrel's body is secured by a scarlet bodice that firmly grips her chest, though it does little to fully conceal her bosom. A brown, buccaneer jacket hangs on top of of the bodice. A cutlass baldric with several slits for different types of weapons acts as a sash that is wrangled over both Kestrel’s jacket and underclothing. Two sheaths located on the back of a belt that crosses over itself is the home to rugged twin daggers. Black captain jack boots settle upon Kestrel’s feet. Gold-painted bracers are locked down on Kestrel’s wrists. Her long, black, wavy hair is let loose and untamed. Her rich, caramel eyes that sparkle with mischief contrast wonderfully with her dark skin. She has a diamond-shaped face with flushed cheeks, raised cheekbones, and thin eyebrows. Her nose is comparable to a button with a dipping bridge. Her pierced ears are barely visible in the cascade of black hair that consumes them. Kestrel’s body shape is an inverted triangle with her athleticism showing through the muscles coursing through her body.

Personality: After years of being dragged around by a collar, Kestrel has decided that she wants nothing more than to be in control of her life and do what she will with it. She is heavily independent, depending on no one for anything. She loathes being forced to stay in a single place for too long and yearns to do whatever her heart desires. She is highly sarcastic and isn’t afraid to tell a plethora of bad jokes. She has a dark, and somewhat inappropriate, sense of humor and often jests at climactic moments. Kestrel is not a patient woman and would much prefer to find a shortcut than wait around for something to happen. She loves the thrill of danger and can appear dauntless at times. She is not afraid to dive headlong into danger and will often drag others into possible calamity as well.


Though not extensively yielding when it comes to foreign concepts, Kestrel is rather flexible when it comes to change; she is rather willing to accept something unknown to her if she finds it harmless or truthful. Kestrel can often come off as brash or loud-mouthed to strangers as she often acts as such. She likes to live a free-lifestyle and is not offended if someone sees her as shallow for doing so. Flirting is one of Kestrel’s favorite pastimes and she immensely enjoys it when someone flirts back. She is amiable to an extent and will show endearing compassion to those she considers her friends. Kestrel finds comfort in those who are similar to her or, at the very least, tolerate her actions and do not question her behavior. Those who appear to uptight, strict, and judgmental to Kestrel won’t have to worry about interacting with her for too long as she do whatever she can exit the interaction and stay as far away from them as possible. Arguing easily bores her and, as such, Kestrel is prone to simply walk away in the middle of a steamed conversation.

Trinket: A small horn fashioned from a deer’s antler. The horn is secured upon a white gold necklace.

Other: For fun, Kestrel learned how to play the lute.



Username: Thaelasan

Character Name: Bartholomew "Bear" Vincent Starlight.

World: Sol

Age: 22

Gender: Male

History: Bear is a natural steampunk inventor by trade, having been taught by his father as - one day - he would be taking the family business. His family was the family which invented the zeppelins used by most of Sol for trade. As such, you'd think he'd be proud.

He, strangely enough, has not been married or considered it, as he is always too engrossed in his work to pay attention to things like that. Though his parents keep pushing him to do it. Of course, with his background, it would probably be easy to earn a woman's hand by money alone, but he isn't interested in doing that.

But, like most people of Sol, honor means little. He's just happy to be of help, in any way he can, though the money from that honor helps with buying more things to build with.

He currently runs a laboratory in northeastern Apollo. (( Which other characters can start in)), called the Starlight Steamworks.

Appearance: Like his nickname suggests, Bear is a large man. Standing at 6'5" and muscular from his years of working in the factory and heavy lifting, he looks more like a fierce woodsman than an inventor. A lot of people don't believe he's the owner of Starlight Steamworks the first time they meet him. But he doesn't mind. He has braided facial hair (in order to avoid getting it stuck in machines) and a pair of goggles he wears whenever he's working. He normally has them up in his brown hair when they're not covering his green eyes.

Personality: (optional. I'll trust you to play well.)

Trinket: His goggles, which were given to him by his father and have been passed down through generations of the Starlight family line.



Username: TehUltimateMage

Character Name: Randall Knight

World: Sol

Age: 22

Gender: Male

History: Randall is a young man working as a farmhand. He has some skill in smithing, honed during the colder months, under the instruction of his uncle Thompson. There is always plenty of work to be done on the fields in the world of eternal sun. Everyone in his immediate family were all standard peasants who have owned the same lands for generations, and as the oldest of nine children Randall never really had a moment for himself. He didn't mind it, though. He loved his duty of taking care of his little brothers and sisters, and the mindless work sowing and reaping gave him plenty of time to think how fortunate they were to have such a bountiful harvest year after year. Life was, and still is, good.


His community was really tightly knit, almost as if they were a secondary family. Trade and sharing between people was almost second-nature. Through observation, Randall has learned a little bit of many trades, though is not particularly good at any with the exception of smithing, under the instruction of his uncle Thompson. He has considered many times to become a full apprentice under him, although he is hesitant if his family would accept him leaving the farmwork, especially since many of his siblings were ready to find lives in other towns. Not many wanted to stay behind to help in the fields, so Randall took it upon himself to continue the tradition.


Unlike for some of his younger siblings, it never really occurred to him what really happened outside his village, and Randall had only a vague idea of how city life worked thanks to his annual trips to Apollo with his parents to trade wares and visit some aunts and uncles (there, he has to be on his best behavior on the off-chance that he might catch someone’s fancy). In towns, even simple technology like pocket watches still baffle him, and the king and the nobility seemed more like mythical creatures than people just like him. Nevertheless, he trusts them just as he trusts his neighbors, even if he accidentally makes mistakes when it comes to his manners.


Appearance: The medium-long hair on his head is untrimmed and in a bedhead, but his golden locks look as if they shine under the eternal sunlight. His skin is tanned from the light, though there is a visible tan line on his upper arms. Under his clothing his skin still carries honey tones, though it is much lighter in color. He doesn't mind being messy and has some dirt on him at all times -- under his nails and on his shirt, for example. He wears a simple pinkish tunic paired with just as simple cotton shorts and sandals in the hotter months; for colder times it is rare to see him wear more than a single jacket lined with sheepskin. The only time anyone would see him wear more than two layers would be the dress shirts and dapper suits his mother puts him in for formal gatherings in the city. When he does get stuck in formal clothing, he always wears it a bit loose and 'improper', with his shirt untucked and the collar flipped.


He stands at about 5'10 with powerful core muscles as well as definition on his arms and shoulders. He is built for work of manual labor and it is not uncommon to see him help out other families if they need help with moving things. His hands are large and rough. His facial features are surprisingly soft for someone who works outside so often. His face is round, having kept some of his baby fat, and dimples form on his cheeks when he gives a wide smile. He has sharp eyebrows above gentler hazel eyes and a high bridge of the nose. He makes an actual effort to keep clean-shaven, though stubble seems to always find a way to grow in on the sides of his face.


Personality: Having grown up in some of the more rural areas of Sol in communities where everyone knows everyone else, Randall treats even strangers with complete trust. He is generous and willing to share what little belongings he has so that everyone can be happy. A gentle giant, he wants to do everything that is just and good yet he knows that people will always disagree on many things and that it is impossible to solve all of Sol's problems himself. He often tries to play the neutral party in disputes, trying to peacekeep even if he doesn't completely know what is being argued about. It's the thought that counts.


He is often hesitant to make major decisions with the fear that he might not pick the right choice. He is indecisive for the smallest things, and would rather that someone else make the choice for him so that he can follow. On the other hand, when the choice is finally made, he makes the extra effort to see it through no matter what. It's the same for his iron promises. He will never break them. Some call him a foolhardy idiot who can't think for himself, that his niceness will get him robbed, or that his determination would get him killed. He admits that he might be, but he would take his chances any day.


He considers himself not very good with words and doesn’t completely understand figures of speech. His way of talking is direct -- but when there is a chance that his words may be found offensive, he will not say them. Otherwise, he is a friendly soul to all new people he meets.


Trinket: A simple steel sword hanging on the wall in his house. It has not much value in of itself, discouraging thieves, but it serves him well when Randall needs it.










Username: Esko_the_Wolf

Character Name: Tulvir

World: (Sol/Luna) Luna

Age: 19

Gender: Male

History: he is a total thug, a delinquent, a troublemaker. Throughout school, he has been. He has lived on the streets since he was 8, when his parents were murdered. He lived as a thug since then, selling his body and occasionally drugs. He most often lives in an abandoned treehouse in the nearby forest. Wander there if you dare. He used his charming looks to get his way.

Appearance: he is blonde with strangely red eyes, and he has some stubble on his chin. He is rather attractive, and he uses that to get his way, like I said above. He is muscular, and rather tall. He often wears a shirt with no sleeves, showing his muscly arm and some tattoos. He wears tattered shorts, and the only thing on his feet are socks.

Personality: (optional. I'll trust you to play well.) he is cunning, and uses his surprising amount of smarts to get around in the wild. He loves to joke around and have fun. In many different ways. I shall figure the rest out as we go along.

Trinket: He has a dagger that he stole, finely crafted with a dragon wrapping around the handle.




And a two!


Username: Esko_the_Wolf

Character Name: Esko Arkus

World: Luna

Age: 19 1/2

Gender: Male

History: he has always been the brainiac, the smart one. The not-to-strong kid. He was that kid who worked for grades and focused on their education more the having fun. He lived in a fairly average family, with plenty of technology and education tools to work with. His father got sick recently, and the sickness is rather severe. The family has to cope and work harder for money then usual.

Appearance: Eskoooooo

Personality: (optional. I'll trust you to play well.) he is rather quiet, focusing more on learning then playing. He loves something that can challenge his brain like puzzles and brain teasers. He also loves art and computer stuff. When his work is done, you can find him drawing, reading, or doing various activities on the computer. I might think of another thing as we go along.

Trinket: his laptop. It was gifted to him by his grandpa before he died of Pancreatic Cancer. Esko feels it is too special to let go because of that.



Username: Thaelasan.

Character Name: Number 2213. (Garas "Gar" Thenas Barold.)

World: Luna.

Age: 21

Gender: Male

History: 2213. Those are the numbers that were given to him upon his induction in the National Security and Safety Force (NSSF). It was one of his proudest moments, if he could feel something like that, but it was to be expected. All men of age should join the NSSF for at least 10 years at some point in their lives. Since he had no wife or family to care about, like many of his age, he did it now.

As such, like all the others, he is not called by name - he is another number.

His family is like many of the others - common, but lives in the Athena high-class area. He can't remember why, like most.

Appearance: Short cut, white hair. He has purple eyes, thanks to genetic manipulation. He normally wears NSSF combat gear and a pair of sunglasses (as his purple eyes are sensitive to light). He is 6'1". He's slightly lean. His skin is pale, like most people of Luna.

Personality: (optional. I'll trust you to play well.)

Trinket: A necklace, from his mother. He doesn't really know why he keeps it. Perhaps... memory? He doesn't even remember her name, really.



Username: Thaelasan.

Character Name: Hallea Willa Noras.

World: Luna.

Age: 20.

Gender: Female.

History: Hallea has just graduated from all of her schooling. As such, she is currently searching for a career which suits her, as a master of electronics. She is capable of hacking, but as most of the world of Luna is electronically controlled, hacking is the most illegal crime, punishable by mutilation or death. But, then again, Hallea has never considering doing it. There's no point.

She has also considered prostitution to get by, but decided against it. As such, she is currently trying to make ends meet and make up her mind, since now her parents are no longer legally obligated to support her at her age.

Appearance: Long, silver hair and a pair of cat ears adorn her head, thanks to genetic manipulation, which increases her agility and reflexes. As a young girl, she voluntarily underwent the procedure.

Her eyes have catlike pupils, which make her eyesight in the dark more powerful. She is 6'00", but lithe. She is well-endowed.

Personality: (optional. I'll trust you to play well.)

Trinket: A ring from her foster father, who she does not remember. It plays a hologram of her parents saying "I love you.", though... that can't be true, can it?



Username: KuroKishi

Character Name: Valerian "Raven" Remington

World: Luna

Age: 28

Gender: Male


History: Valerian Remington was born to a lone mother, one Mirrah Remington, and inherited her last name because her lover was nowhere to be seen after the act of copulation. He grew up in a small apartment on the outskirts of a small city, more corrupt than the average town. His early life was full of hardships. He would either do small tasks for trusted people or sit at home and read books in order to pass the time. His mother would resort to methods she often left unexplained - for her son's own good - to acquire something interesting to read for him and to keep the family of two fed and warm... as often as possible.

Sadly, he lost his mother after she became the victim of organ failure. Her lone kidney was unable to handle the stress of two at once, and her body was flooded with toxins that lead to her collapse and then ultimate demise a few hours later, in a small corner clinic. Valerian was left to fend for himself at the age of 15. Though his body was frail and weak, he was smart for his age, and he figured out that living on the streets by himself would be his end. Instead, he joined a small gang and became an errand boy, in order to both have the funds needed to survive and the security. He grew attached to the leader, Mark Molls, who was the only one to actually welcome the child warmly and trust its young innocence. He was the one to teach him everything he knew - from practical skills... to tools of the trade. Said innocence was lost rather quickly, as after he turned 16, Valerian started to run contract work. Killing, thieving and bribery became a huge part of his life. Years passed by and his sense of remorse slowly faded away. He still felt bitter for every evil he did, but... none really affected him that much.

One day, he was sent to kill a young family of two. Sense of nostalgia washed over the young man as he opened the door of the house and walked in, only to see the mother's eyes wide with fear. She went silent, however, and soon quietly offered him everything she had - from belongings to body - so that she wouldn't harm her child. He could see her son, in the other room, reading a book. They continued to live, even if their life was miserable... and the only reason they were to be killed was a debt of few credits that the family owed.

That was the day Valerian disobeyed. He buried the family using the connections he had made through the years, then informed the officials of the location of the gang. Of course, they were bribed and not only took no action, but threatened him with 'harassment' for his 'baseless accusation'. So, he was left to use what he had learned through the years to do what he could best - kill.

He went into the base one night and emerged three hours later, blood covering his entire being. A mass murder of 23 criminals, with only one survivor left - their leader. The police searched for him, but he disappeared too easily in the streets that he had learned throughout his lifetime. Now, Valerian is known as Athena's vigilante. Of course, in a world of corruption, he has few allies and a small amount of power... but he will go on.


Appearance: Valerian's clothing is all about safety. It's tight enough so it cannot be grasped, but nothing that restrains his figure. Armor is not too rare, but it's often only in small, limited quantities.

He wears a black shirt that has its sleeves pulled back to the elbows, along with slim, mettalic forearm guards and black, kevlar-laced impact gloves. His chest is adorned by a form-fitting ballistic vest, whilst a long strap goes over it and holds a few bullet cartridges. He wears a simple pair of dark cargo pants that are thin enough to stick well against his skin and a pair of black runners - the only remaining memory of his past. All of this is very often covered by a gray coat, which has also been bulletproofed with multiple layers of tiny aluminum pieces on the inside and fiber-like kevlar on the middle.

Under all of this, Valerian is a rather common male. He stands at an average height and has a body right around the middle. He hasn't bothered to lose the 'fat' on his body and has instead transformed it into muscles, because a slim, muscular body is for an athlete - and he is a fighter. His dark brown hair is cut semi-short and formed into a simple faux hawk that often turns into a mess of hair. His eyes are a deep azure color that are often kept hidden away from other's gaze. He has a mostly oval face with a sharp chin that accentuates his jawline. His nose is sharp and short, whilst his lips are thin and slightly wide. His eyebrows are angular and average in thickness, whilst his cheekbones are less-emphasised than usual.


Personality: Valerian is a person that is just inbetween two phases. He has emerged from a world of dark that has only been filled with evil. Now... he wishes to be a man of good. As such, at times, he may come off unnaturally cold. That is by no means something he wishes to do, and he will sooner or later apologize, if someone is offended by this.

His casual persona is cautious and not very trustworthy. Not many people are his friends in this dark world, and as such, he keeps random encounters short and in few numbers. People in this world are often dark, too, so he does not find much of a reason to try and get friendly. Before, though, when he was still in the group, Valerian was a true friend. He protected his comrades, whether verbally or physically, and enjoyed their company. He also made it evident by spending his precious little time with them and giving them gifts.

Love... is something Valerian has yet to experience. He has read of many things in his youth, including love, and all of them seem like a foreign experience. However, he is one willing to try new things... if they don't prove to be his own blind downfall.

Stress is not easily handled by him, unfortunately. A mass murder and a traumatic childhood have made him a man that does not handle problems well. Things which he can take care off only make him uneasy and anxious... whilst anything unsolvable is a huge source of issues for him. Headaches, small breakdowns and sleepless nights are common for him. Though not usually one to care, people that help him get through these problematic phases will become favorable for the young man.


Trinket: A tiny, dark blue key. It was a gift from his mother for his third birthday, and he has kept it with him since then. It is kept around his neck by a thin silver necklace that he often keeps under his shirt because of its reflective nature.


Other: Valerian is right handed and has a knack for using the environment to his advantage. This is mostly limited to freerunning and improvisation.



Username: Ayesthine

Character Name: Diomedea “Dio” Murphy

World: Luna

Age: 35

Gender: Female


Dio’s parents were the equivalent of middle-class entrepreneurs; her mother had made her own way in the world, rising from the slums to live as close to the center of Athena as she could afford. Her relative success encouraged her to give her unborn child the best chance she could, paying for expensive genetic modifications. She chose to infuse her child’s DNA with Procellariiforme genes, granting Dio muscular avian wings, an advanced metabolism, and a frighteningly high internal temperature. Contrary to her mother’s expectations, grafting avian wings onto her daughter’s body didn’t grant the child with powered flight. Dio’s wings allow her to glide and parachute across Athena’s city-scape, but she can’t take off under her own power. Not easily, at any rate.

Her mother, in spite of this letdown, pushed her daughter to succeed. She groomed Dio to join the NSSF, filling the girl’s head with ideas of heroism and grandeur (or what passed for it). When Dio became a legal adult she rushed to enlist, but her large, ungainly, seemingly useless wings disqualified her.

Frustrated and jobless, Dio joined the police force. She spent her life busting drug rings, tracking down petty criminals, and tearing down the numerous and shadowy fight clubs that stirred beneath the city.

This job gave her purpose, and it became her life. The things she saw hardened her, and tragedy was a daily occurrence. In spite of this, some part of her was glad to make a difference. It was no secret that Athena’s police force openly took bribes to turn a blind eye to crime and violence. This frustrated her to no end, but it only served to encourage her to throw herself into her duties.

As she grew older, she became increasingly disillusioned. She could see all the amazing things Luna could do with gene surgery. If you were rich enough, you were practically immortal. Why was it, then, that this city was so corrupt? Why could wealth not be spread equally for the benefit of all? She could see no end to the advantages of this. If everyone was equal, why would crimes be committed? Why was violence, drug abuse, and criminal activity so rampant in this world of incredible technology?

She grew restless, her job and its duties no longer enough to occupy her. She started to wander the city in her time off work, watching people live their lives, thinking quiet thoughts. She started to long for something more.


Dio is thin and lithe, her avian anatomy granting her a light, muscular body. Two long wings with brown-and-white spotted feathers sprout from her lower back, just underneath her human shoulderblades. Her skin is ochre-colored, pale like the rest of Luna’s inhabitants, but tinged a warm yellow. Her face is bird-like, with large light-brown eyes, a small roman nose, and thin arched eyebrows. She cuts her dark blue-black hair close to her scalp, leaving a two-inch strip longer than the rest in a short mohawk. Typically she wears her police uniform, rarely changing out of it. It consists of dark metallic body-armor, custom fitted to allow her wings to pass through the back. Any other clothes she has are dark and form-fitting, usually with short sleeves and a low-slung back (again to allow her wings to move). She always has a pistol nestled in a holster on her hip.


Dio is uncompromising at best. She sees upholding the law to her best ability to be her only purpose in life, and she sticks to it. She doesn’t allow anyone to insult her or anyone around her, and she will crush any potential arguments into the ground. Like most of the inhabitants of Luna, she has no experience with “soft” feelings. While she would agree with the concept of compassion, she doesn’t know such a thing can exist. As such, she doesn’t really believes in second chances, and is incredibly scrutinizing of anyone she deems suspicious or criminal.

Trinket: An old service revolver. She doesn’t really remember where she picked it up, but it’s been with her for her entire career. She takes pains to keep it in good condition despite the fact that it is obsolete technology.

Other: She eats nearly constantly, and gets grumpy and irritable when she’s hungry.



Username: TehUltimateMage

Character Name: Claris Day

World: Luna

Age: 26

Gender: Female


Claris makes her living as a lucrative seller of paints and dyes she creates. But before that, spraypaints were rendered illegal by the state many years ago in an attempt to quell the surge in vandalism. The largest distributors were shut down and smaller sellers were quickly closing shop or integrating themselves into the black market. As the goods became harder to acquire, street art died out in the city of Athena. That is, until someone only known only as The Ectoslime -- named from the way how their ghostly apparition leaves behind a splatter of neon green to sign his work -- brought street art back with surging force. Wickedly fast at doing his work and then cleaning up to leave without a trace, he was, for a long while, the only one filling the otherwise gunky and industrial walls of brick and steel with colorful paintings done in a matter of minutes. The city was determined to scrub them clean and catch the vandal, without much success Besides, there were a lot more serious crimes and more urgent matters in the city than simple defacing.


Around this time, Claris was a regular junior in school with fairly middle-ground grades. Not one to socialize much, she always seemed tired and spacey in class (even having been caught sleeping multiple times) and no one knew why. No one knew about her endless hours during her free time toiling in her garage with sometimes toxic elements in her search to create the perfect color and texture for the paints she created on her own. Her family was fairly standard fare; she lived where the majority lived, in the lower-middle class where hard work was valued to make a living, and high school scores might have meant a better future. Claris herself decided to cheat the system right under the noses of the adults and become an independent inventor -- in the name of progress, as Luna's creed goes.


Because there was so much focus on the sciences, languages and logic in her society, Claris wanted to bring a resurgence of art in the darkness. It was a noble dream she couldn't hope to do alone. But she tried.


In total secret, she created her own brand of pressurized paint complete with a gun-like airbrush system and got to work. She started small with her graffiti, hood up and face obscured, in places that were not often frequented, and slowly worked her way up to busier and busier alleyways, always signing her work with the splash of neon green. She realized eventually that she must train her body as well as her art if she were to evade both shady people and the city cops. Her favourite spots were the alleyways between buildings, where she might take a quick smoke before getting to work.


As word about the mysterious phantom graffiti artist got around, Claris began to deal her paints in secret, now that her mandatory schooling was over and she was able to leave her parents. Seven years later, she still hasn't been caught as her only crimes were repeated cases of minor vandalism. She was not high on the priority list, and people were beginning to enjoy her work. Nevertheless, she still remains a very secretive person when it comes to what she does in her free time. She has almost dropped completely off of the radar.


Appearance: Standing at around 5'3 and on the willowy side, Claris is on the shorter side of the females of Luna, making her seem younger from afar. Her narrow shoulders and petite figure are a fine advantage when slipping around the cracks between buildings, and her strong limbs help her scale walls and reach to higher spots. White gloves of durable leather, stained with paint sprays of many colors, cover her hands. Rough patches are present on the underside of the gloves' fingers to improve her grip on items and on surfaces.


Claris prefers to be distinctive, yet anonymous. Her clothes cover her entire body -- simple long-sleeved cotton garments with hoods up paired with rough jeans -- are black or white and are marred with patches of color that glow under the all too common blacklights of Luna. Her most distinctive item is a black and neon respirator mask that covers the bottom of her face and her nose. It protects her lungs from paint fumes and dust using air filtration technology. She also wears a pair of mirrored safety glasses that perform the dual purpose of protecting her eyes and obscuring her identity. Her steel-toed boots are of black leather and rubber and always surprisingly clean.


When she unmasks herself for official (or somewhat shady) duties, Claris has white wavy curls tied into a low ponytail that reaches down to the middle of her back and with a few short strands falling into her face. It is dyed a peachy color at the tips and is tucked into her outer hooded jacket when she is painting; it is otherwise let out and free flowing. Her eyes are a brilliant green, set lightly on a pale and angular face with full lips. She goes the extra mile to widen her eyes with eyeliner and hide her blemishes with makeup. Her regular clothes -- when she is not acting in any particular role -- are bold statements of pastel colors and dresses with flowing fabrics. She is almost flat-chested.


Personality: Claris is a firm believer in her own values. She listens to authority and says the right things just so that they would stop bothering her, but if left to her own devices she will do whatever she herself deems right, regardless of law. She seems quite air-headded at first with a knack for telling stories and funny anecdotes, her aloof expression and even her occasional clumsiness, but she has quite a sharp mind behind her clueless face. Closer friends will realize she becomes quieter once they get to know her better. She enjoys the company of people as long as they don't get in the way of her work and she is known to be quite frightening when people touch her things -- not because she fears for their safety, but because she's afraid they might break or put her tools out of order. Claris in general is quite organized; not a single thing gets misplaced or goes unaccounted for whenever she leaves an area.


With a tongue for lies, Claris is a slippery snake to get a hold on by the authorities. She uses her sweetness to deceive for the purpose of saving her own skin; and yet, she would never lie to deliberately put anyone in danger. She's an optimist and an idealist with determination to follow through with her work, sometimes refusing even to think about worst-case-scenarios. To avoid unnecessary trouble and to have as much control over her actions, Claris avoids having close friends. Some people who know about her underground paint business joke that she's been married to her art.


Trinket: One of her many two-filter respirators (like this one). Some parts of it are painted neon green and glow under blacklight. It was one of her first ones, and one most represented in fan art of The Ectoslime.


Other: Claris is quite mysterious. It will be impossible to know all about her during your first encounter, but feel free to know about the famous graffiti ghost, The Ectoslime.


Username: MyaMouse

Character Name: Isabelle Brithe

World: Luna

Age: 17

Gender: Fem

History: When she was a young girl she was pretty much an orphan. She lived on her own until a boy called Jackson Brithe took her in and his parents practically adopted her. Jackson became not only her brother but her best friend and brought out her inner muscisian. She strove to perfect her music on an old beat-up acoustic guitar she found. On her 16th birthday Jackson got her a brand-new electric guitar. She treasures it and together they make music.

Appearance: Isa.

Personality: To be RPd

Trinket: Her guitar from Jackson

Other: I seem to be in a music-y mood lately.


Username: MyaMouse

Character Name: Jackson Brithe

World: Luna

Age: 18

Gender: Male

History: At the age of 11 he met a girl named Isabelle and convinced his parents to adopt her for some reason. He didn't know why he wanted to but he felt a connection to her. The two became best friends over time and on her 16th birthday he got her an electric guitar. He was pursuing his own career as a DJ, and she got him the best headphones she could buy with her small amount of cash and a tin can of robotic scraps. He treasured the present and still has it today.

Appearance: He has blue eyes and blonde hair.

Personality: To be RPd

Trinket: His headphones

Other: poptartFINALTINY.gif


Username: zakku_uchiha

Character Name: Mina Rayne Petrovsky

World: (Sol/Luna) Luna

Age: 22

Gender: Female

History: (( Creator has requested to RP this. Request has been granted. ))

Appearance: Mina is a short, thin young woman, standing just around 5'2" and weighing just under 100lbs. Thin, brunette colored hair is kept cut short in the back, just barely covering the nape of her neck, while the sides reach just below her collar bone, adorns her head. Thin lips, a short, perky nose a deep brown eyes are set perfectly on her small face. All of this is set on a slender, toned, athletic frame, her bust in the lower C category, but kept under wraps (literally) so as not to cause a disturbance in her movements. Despite the lack of sun, rather no sun at all, Mina has a paled hazelnut complexion, that compliments most of her features.

Usually, Mina is seen wearing one of two types of clothing, that being loose baggy clothing, usually a loose tank top and baggy pants and a pair of minimalists, or something more fitting to her figure, consisting primarily of tight, midriff bearing tops and short-shorts that cover the bear essentials with a pair of stockings and more 'classier' shoes (usually sneakers). What she is often seen wearing is a loose tank top that clearly shows where she has wrapped her chest and a pair of baggy, cargo-type sweat pants and her minimalist-style shoes.

Personality: (optional. I'll trust you to play well.)

Trinket: Despite not having any kind of fascination for jewelry or trinkets, Mina does wear a black neck band embroidered with a silver lining that makes a tribal pattern. Obtained from the one person she ever truly cared about and the one person who personally requested Mina to end their life in the way that would satisfy her the best.







1. People of Sol are still living in the past, so they don't know modern terms. Keep that in mind when playing as them. In fact, it is advised that you talk in Old English, such as using Thy, Thou. Think Geoffery Chaucer.

2. People of Luna LOVE progress. This is a stated fact, whatever that progress is. They're almost geniuses. Their schooling is normally top-notch, unless your character was a delinquent (which would be cool to see). They have been told for years that they need to research so that if Sol ever comes back over, they'll be able to defend themselves. They DO NOT KNOW that Sol is stuck in the past.

3. You WILL NOT FIND guns in Sol unless they are MUSKETS. That is the only thing I will allow. You probably won't need them anyway, but I am stating this for later. I will only allow weapons from the Colonial Period AT MOST.

4. There ARE pirates in Sol. Even though peace exists, and material gains aren't really necessary, some people love life on the high seas and taking risks. But they don't normally destroy ships or steal a lot. Usually, they're just pleased to float along.

5. Think Steampunk for Sol and Modern for Luna. That's pretty much it. Sol's engineering is completely based on recreational purposes, mainly, while Luna's is based ENTIRELY on warfare and defense. They don't know how to relax or enjoy themselves. In fact, many in Luna act in a similar fashion to androids. They don't understand similes or metaphors. But that's for you to roleplay. I'm just giving some pointers.

6. DO NOT suddenly walk through the door until later. This is the only real rule. I want to see everyone roleplay for a bit in their own worlds, meet other characters in them, and find out more about the "Door" before we just simply waltz through or however it happens. If you have read this rule, put "I'll wait for the Sunrise" if you're Luna, or "I'll wait for the Sunset." if you're Sol. This rule will be removed later.

7. I may add more rules at any given time, so check back here occasionally.


And for anyone who is curious, yes, this Roleplay's idea came from the two Avicii songs. I have no idea how, but I felt it was slightly funny, so I said it. If you have not heard them yet, you should.



Edited by Thaelasan

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Username: lycrawaterz14

Character Name: Antoinette

World: Sol

Age: 19 or so

Gender: female

History: She was born into the light and knows nothing else, she loves everything golden and new. Her mother passed due to illness, but she bears no ill will because of it. She has the best green thumb and cares for all creatures. She doesn't know this, but she is a natural born inventor. She loves nurturing and building, watching progress is exciting. She's never developed this, but as of no she is excited to be married, though it is arranged and she knows not to whom.

Appearance: Bronzed hair from the sun, and eyes that reflect the sky. She is slender and thin, and lithe in build. She loves white in clothing.

Personality: (optional. I'll trust you to play well.)

Trinket: Her mother's music box, crudely made from metal of the earth melted in a forge. She treasures her device more than anything, as technology utterly facinates her.


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You know what, screw this. I am joining.



Username: Esko_the_Wolf

Character Name: Tulvir

World: (Sol/Luna) Luna

Age: 19

Gender: Male

History: he is a total thug, a delinquent, a troublemaker. Throughout school, he has been. He has lived on the streets since he was 8, when his parents died of murder. He lived as a thug since then, also selling his body and occasionally drugs. He most often lives in an abandoned treehouse in the nearby forest. Wander there if you dare. He used his charming looks to get his way. God knows if he is a virgin...

Appearance: he is blonde with strangley red eyes, and he has some stubble on his chin. He is rather attractive, and he uses that to get his way, like I said above. He is muscular, and rather tall. He often wears a shirt with no sleeves, showing his muscly arm and some tattoes. He wears tattered shorts, and the only thing on his feet are socks.

Personality: (optional. I'll trust you to play well.) he is cunning, and uses his surprising amount of smarts to get around in the wild. He loves to joke around and have fun. In many different ways. I shall figure the rest out as we go along.

Trinket: He has a dagger that he stole, finely crafted with a dragon wrapping around the handle.

Other: I shall wait for the sunrise



And a two!


Username: Esko_the_Wolf

Character Name: Esko Arkus

World: Luna

Age: 19 1/2

Gender: Male

History: he has always been the brainiac, the smart one. The not-to-strong kid. He was that kid who worked for grades and focused on their education more the having fun. He lived in a fairly average family, with plenty of technology and education tools to work with. His father got sick recently, and the sickness is rather severe. The family has to cope and work harder for money then usual.

Appearance: Eskoooooo

Personality: (optional. I'll trust you to play well.) he is rather quiet, focusing more on learning then playing. He loves something that can challenge his brain like puzzles and brain teasers. He also loves art and computer stuff. When his work is done, you can find him drawing, reading, or doing various activities on the computer. I might think of another thing as we go along.

Trinket: his laptop. It was gifted to him by his grandpa before he died of Pancreatic Cancer. Esko feels it is too special to let go because of that.

Other: I shal wait for the sunrise to come.





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(( I actually kinda meant for the sheets to be PMed. Lycra was the exception because of... well she is the exception.

Esko, could you please edit yours a bit for grammatical errors? Also, you don't need to say "God knows if he's a virgin.." if he's known to sell his body.

Don't worry about touching prostitution as a light topic here. This is a PG-13 teetering on TV-14 Roleplay due to the fact that drugs WILL be mentioned in certain aspects, though not the ones we know.

I did forget to mention that. Luna's drug market has two top sellers - Sunlight and Daytime. I'm serious. Sunlight is something akin to LSD that makes people begin to have a high sensitivity to light but also makes it like the entire world is full of sunlight - the world they covet.

Daytime is basically a drug which works as a stimulant. It's used in certain underground fight clubs to increase a person's resistance to pain. As such, it's HIGHLY illegal, moreso than most others. Sunlight is actually a prescription drug in small doses.. Since their lives are kinda miserable in this industrial world.

Luna is divided into the slums and the pristine parts of the world. It will be more explained later, but in the center of one of Luna's biggest cities - Athena - there is a tower which reaches to the Moon, and this is the highest class area ever built. Most of the world is slums around this. There aren't many more towns.

Sol, however, is more equal. It's a monarchy. Luna is a corrupt democracy. ))

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((Okay, good to know. I tried to edit what was needed and wrong on Pages, which is the iPad equivelent to Word, so I corrected mistakes that could be corrected on there. Thael, you should recieve the pm soon after this.))

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Also, for future reference:


Arranged marriages in Sol are uncommon but happen among the higher classes. However, there isn't much differential between nobility and non-nobility. Slavery is outlawed, so it's all about the money you have. And people don't really determine worth by money there anyway. Everyone in Sol is pretty much Lawful Good. I'm serious. They feel no need to be wicked or malevolent.




In Luna, having children randomly without a license is actually a crime. In order to have children, you must pass an IQ test, which is extremely difficult, to see if your genes are worth placing back in the pool. Also, most people just sign up as singles and donate eggs or sperm by themselves... Love isn't really... A thing.

People in Luna do not understand "Love." Though romance is allowed in this RP, most people in Luna who are together are just together to take care of a child they were paired to take care of. They treat each other like normal individuals and leave each other after the child has been supported. The government pays for most children being raised, and since most of the education is automated, it doesn't really cost anything for schooling.

As such, love isn't really something you learn about or understand. Most emotions are subdued like love.

Also, there is a limit to the amount of children you are allowed to have in Luna, since there aren't any diseases that haven't been cured by now. Medical science is so far ahead that people don't get sick or die. They have yet to force an age restriction (meaning that people past a certain age, as part of population control in most cities... would be killed or allowed to die) but it seems to be teetering on that. The value of a life is not really high here. Their currency is also based on years of life, since genetics can make people almost immortal.

You gain years as you work. you lose them if you don't or if you buy things. Think strict 1984 type leadership.


The RP for Sol characters take place in the capital of Apollo, a giant, steampunk city where trade is bustling, people converse, everyone is normally pleased, and the culture abounds.

For Luna characters, it takes place in the capital of Athena, a large, futuristic city where flying cars are everywhere, trade is strictly regulated, and the populace is... existing. Vices are rampant.


If you have any further questions, please PM me. I will be making an OOC soon.

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Wow. That is very interesting. A rather interesting place for a thug in the streets and a kid who focuses on grades.



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I'll be making my THREE character sheets soon.


MY SHEETS ARE MADE. The RP may begin. I will be posting introductions for my own characters soon.


Also, please at least post a paragraph per post. :3

Edited by Thaelasan

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It is Vanthen 24, 3012. Luna Calendar.


You all have been selected as members of the newest unit of NSSF. Congratulations. I am sure you all feel quite privileged to have joined such a covert unit. If you do not, you are foolish.

As you all know, you are now servants of the State, of Athena, and most importantly, servants of War President Canadrey. Failure to perform at your highest standard will result in consequences. You fight without regret, or mercy. You will act upon every order given to you. This is the one, true rule.

Never defy a direct order.

Is this understood?


Now, all of you have one task today. As your first, introductory mission, you will be tasked with the elimination of a drug operation distributing illegal pharmaceuticals in downtown Winters. Is this agreeable? Good.

Each of you shall be equipped with: A radio, that must always be active. It may only be turned off for - at max - five minutes at a time, and this time is meant for bathroom use. Your radio goes both ways, and is always open. Do not leave or lose it or you will suffer the consequences.

A rifle, standard. Fires stunning pulse shots if the switch is turned to the left and lethal plasma bolts if the lever is activated and turned to the right. If it is activated, headquarters will be notified and we will be confirming your action. If you do not radio in at that point, you will suffer consequences.

A stun pistol. This is your most used weapon. You will only ever receive one. Do not lose it, or... well, I believe you should understand now.

You're not juveniles any longer. You are men and women of Athena. You will rise to the expectations placed before you or discharged without honor.

Do not fail your country. Do not fail us. And do not fail the War President.





The intricate metal brought back memories. He rubbed a gloved finger down the side of it, trying hard to understand fully what kind of memories those were.

Were they sad? Happy? He couldn't tell. He was confused. Befuddled. What exactly did he keep this for? Why could he not bring himself to throw it away?..


My little child... My precious little Garas.... I made you a present..

What is it, mother?

I told you not to call me that... It's so formal.. You can call me mommy if you like. Can you do that for me?

But... they told me that I shouldn't do that.. That.. that wasn't good for a child of the state to do..

But you're my child... But it's fine. Don't worry about it...

What did you... get me... Mommy?

Oh! I made you this... I want you to hold it close and think of me... whenever you need to..

But.. why?

Because I know that life here is hard... and I know that things aren't easy for you.. School is hard, isn't it? So, whenever you feel like you need someone to hold... and I'm not there.. just hold this in both of your hands.. and think of me...

Are you leaving, mommy?

No. No no no... But one day, they'll make me leave you so that... ... well let's not worry about that for now, ok? Let's just... let's just enjoy the time we have now.... It may.. it may be all we have left...


He pressed it close to his chest, feeling as though something within him was welling up and threatening to leave his eyes.

"Number 2213?"

Gar quickly looked up, at attention.

"What is wrong with your eyes?" the soldier in front of him asked, concerned. "There is water coming from them. They are red. According to our education, this is crying. But why would you be crying?"

"I do... not know."

"This is said to be an expression of joy or sorrow, from our ancestors. Do you require some form of assistance? Our mission occurs soon. Will this action impede your performance?"

"No no. Not at all." Gar waved the man away. "I may still perform at my peak efficiency. I will not fail the War President."

"As you say." the man said quietly, walking away while adjusting his belt.


"...Computer... what is... what is crying?" he asked, turning to his wrist.

A small, hud screen sat upon his arm, where it had been for years. All high-class children of Luna were implanted with these at birth, which monitored every part of the body during growth and development. The true module was implanted on a person's spine.

"Crying?" the computer replied quietly, in that familiar monotone. "Why do you place this inquiry?"

"Because I appear to be suffering with it."

"Suffering? It is not a disease. It is a normal reaction. We are apparently quite sad."


"You are feeling very depressed, and I feel the same. I know not why. It is apparently linked to that-"

Before the computer could finish, the intercom erupted and Gar remembered where he was.

He was currently seated on a military plane, used for their current mission. The sound of the wind became louder as the back of the plane began to open up for the drop off.

"We shall be approaching the landing site in a few moments. You will land on the roof. The ground support will come up the stairs while you head down. Eradicate all targets on the way down the steps. Ensure each kill. Take their ARMs as proof, as always."

A unanimous "SIR, YES SIR" came from everyone in the room, if a bit quieter from Garas. He sat there, still perturbed, as he rebuilt his gun from where he had taken it apart to check it. It was a simple matter, taking less than five minutes with his precision.

He loaded it quickly, ensuring all the ammo was there. If they were hostile, he was advised to immediately switch to lethal ammunition. Those who took offensive action against workers of the government would be given the death sentence anyway. Those who surrendered would receive less strict punishments - such as removal of fingers and toes, and even eyes, based on severity. Slightly barbaric for how modern they were, but as the prison system was reserved for the higher classes, the lower class criminals always received the butt of the stick - if Luna people even still used that old idiom.

As the wind howled outside the plane, Garas sighed.

A mission to be performed. No questions to be asked. No things to be said. It was a simple matter of doing his duty. That was how his life was supposed to be now. How it had always been.

And he had never questioned it.




"A simple matter."

The large man sat at a table, busy tinkering with some small gadget at the table professionally.

"Can you truly rebuild it? As it is?" the man sitting next to him asked. A young girl - the man's daughter - sat with tear-stained eyes.

"Of course. As I said, it's a simple matter really." the man replied, grinning. He was quite large and looked like he had no place fiddling with these sort of devices.

If you had asked the other man, he would have immediately responded "Yes, I was certain he was just some manual worker for this place." But, instead, the truth was very much different.

"So you are... really THE Sir Bartholomew?"

"Oh please, don't call me that." Bartholomew waved his hand dismissively while the other worked on the device. "Call me Bear. Everyone does."

"I... uh... can see why." the man replied, staring at the large male with an appraising look.

"Hehe, I'm a big, old fellow, aren't I?" Bear said, grinning, then looked back to his work. "But I love this sort of work. Course, being big has its advantages."

"I see." the man coughed slightly. "There's a lot of smoke in here, isn't there?"

"Is there?" Bear replied, frowning. "Dammit... You there, little girl."

The young lass looked up, interested. She had been kicking her feet back and forth in the chair, bored.

"If your father will allow it, please go over there and pull that lever." Bear pointed at a contraption on the far side of the room.

"Is that.... safe?" the man asked, confused.

"Oh yes." Bear replied, as the girl obliged and skipped over to it. She pulled it without hesitation.

A sound of whirring gears accompanied a chorus of fume-gates opening as the vents were opened for the steam and smoke to escape. The curtains pulled themselves open, hung upon an automatic pulley system.

"Marvelous.." the man commented in fascination.

"Oh, that isn't anything at all, I assure you." Bear said, taking a pair of calipers and a small lens to what he was working on. "That was just a small side project I finished a while back. I'm proud of it."

"If you would, I'd commission you to build something like that for my home... It's tiring opening those blasted things all the time." the man leaned over, smiling. "My my... It looks more beautiful than when I bought it too."

"Heh. I did some refurbishing on the parts. Whoever sold this to you should have been ashamed of their decision. It's got the original gears and everything. Nothing was ever replaced."

"Ah. My wife's father made it for me... as part of a dowry.. I was going to give it to my daughter.. But she er..."

"Dropped it? I could tell from the cracks." Bear sighed. "Eh. It's nothing. I'll just have to replace the glass with the right circumference and one of the gears. That's about it. It'll run like... Clockwork."

"Ahah!" the man laughed. "I'm glad to hear it. So I can leave it with you?"

"Why would you leave something that's already finished?" Bear asked, turning his chair around and presenting the man with the watch, in its entirety. "A bad decision, if you ask me."


"I told you. A simple matter." Bear said, standing to his full height and stretching. "If you can't pay me now, that's fine. Put your name down if you feel you need to pay me, but I don't need your money."

"Are you ... certain?" the man asked, pocketing it.

"Of course. Fiddling with those things is my favorite past time." he popped his large knuckles easily then pulled his goggles from his eyes. "But if you do need any further help, just ask me anytime. I'm almost always open. Or.. ask one of my students. They could use the training."

"I will be sure to do so! You run a very good business here, Sir Bear."

"Just call me Bear." Bear asked. The two shook hands. The young girl departed with her father as the two of them happily left the place.

"Hope it works for a long time to come!" Bear yelled after them, hands on his hips. He turned back to his table, slightly thankful to be rid of distractions. Though he loved helping people, his latest invention was his current pride and joy.

The Starlight Steamworks was famous for its constructions across the city of Apollo, and farther than that, but most people found it hard to believe such a large man was its manager. However, after seeing his work, their disbelief was quickly turned to surprise and fascination. He'd even been knighted, once, after repairing the Queen's Royal Zeppelin, which no other inventor had managed in the span of three months.

Well, then again, his family HAD invented the damn zeppelin in the first place, which had led to their wealth and status, among other inventions.

"Another customer gone without needing to pay?"

Bear jumped slightly as he turned from his desk, placing both hands on it. As he turned, he saw a familiar, slightly aged fellow with a pair of spectacles. He was dressed in a robe, with a shaven beard and hair tied in a band.

"Hello, Abercrombie.." Bear frowned. "What business do you have here?"

"Of course, I came to see what my old friend was working on..." Abercrombie smirked. "But I'm treated to yet another display of charity. Don't you understand that your actions are making the rest of us inventors look bad? We're losing customers because they can come to you for free!"

"Then why don't you just do the same thing I do?" Bear shrugged.

"Because I cannot AFFORD to do so." Abercrombie snapped. "And it's worse because your work is better than mine! You're strangling the market, Bear. Sooner or later.."

"If you need materials, I already told you you can always use mine."

"And I don't want your charity, Bartholomew." Abercrombie poked a finger in his chest. "Besides, I came with a bit of news."

"And that is?"

"I have been promoted!" Abercrombie said. "I'm finally on the council of Inventors!"

"...I thought you already were here with us."

"No! I've been sending in my inventions for weeks hoping for a response! Finally, my invention of the Steamship Remodel was accepted!"

"You always did have your head in the water, Aberi." Bear crossed his arms. "I'm happy to hear it."

"Yes!" Abercrombie patted Bear on both shoulders. "Now I can finally be taken seriously by these other damn inventors, including you."

"But I already took you seriously." Bear cocked an eye.

"Yes but.. but now you have to take me... EVEN MORE SERIOUSLY!" the man held up a finger. "Far more than ever before!"

"That's.. uh..." Bear turned back to his table. "Well I'll work on that. But I'm trying to-"

"What are you working on, anyway?"

"Oh just an automaton."

"...A what?"



"You didn't know we're working on those?"


"The Council of Inventors has been trying to form sentient machines for the past three years, Abercrombie, before I even entered it. How have you not known?"


"Because you had your head in the water again."

Bear reached behind himself, pulling a cloth off a bundle in the corner.

From the bundle emerged a pair of spindly legs forged of iron and other like materials. Steam fired off it as it stood to its full height, surveying its surroundings.

"What the devil is that?!" Abercrombie asked, hiding behind Bear.

"The Starlight Spider Automaton." Bear said, holding out his hand. The small machine darted up it, coming to a rest on Bear's shoulder, where it seemed to sit.

"WHAT IN THE WORLD?!" Abercrombie exclaimed, darting backward. "How?!"

"Simple. Cycled heat." Bear stated, allowing it to walk from arm to arm. "I could show you the schematics...."

"But aren't you worried I'd... I'd steal them?" Abercrombie put his fingers together.

"Of course not. Why would my old friend steal something like this?" Bear shrugged, the spider robot repeating the gesture.

"...Well.. if you're so adamant.. then please..."

The Sun outside beamed down as the two of them spoke and conversed about the theory of Cycled Heat and other things pertaining to automatons. It was still in the sky, as always, as Abercrombie departed the lab, much more informed about robots than most of his era.

"Come back anytime!" Bear waved as the man left, sighing. He turned to the robot, rubbing its "chin" with a finger.

"And you and I need to visit the council building for a bit of a presentation."




(( EDIT: Hallea's will be postponed for a bit because of subplots.



)) Edited by Thaelasan

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(( text wall wacko.gif ))




Esko was fiddling with a Rubix Cube again. He was finished with collage work, so he was working on puzzles to pass the time. Come on, I solved it many times before. I beat it in LESS time before! The boy had soon finished the puzzle. He had no books to read. He took out his tablet and started to doodle. That was always his last resort. He eventually dozed off.


(( I know, pretty boring, huh?))




Tulvir smiled, sitting in the shadows of an alleyway. He was counting the amount of money he collected today. He had gotten really lucky this time. Not only did quite a bit of chicks come in, he had nothing to sell. He sold it all. He chuckled to himself as he put the cash away. What to do next?


((Haha. Never can my skills reach as high as the mighty text walls of Thael))

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Hard asphalt was under her feet with each step she took. As more and more of her alter ego faded into urban legend, Claris had found the freedom to break away from the expectations of people she didn't even know. No one suspected the city-famous painter to be a woman, and she intended to keep it that way. No one would even saunter a guess, so long as she didn't act suspicious in her business. Because it was too close of a coincidence, yes? The Ectoplaslime -- or simply Ectoslime -- the appearance of a phantom painter right before the creation of can underground paint shop. Simple economics, she would say. Supply versus demand: people wanted to copy the artist, and for that, they demanded paint, which she was happy to supply -- for a price.


And yet, there was something magical in donning the white clothes of the graffiti ghost to do her job herself. Like the secret heroes of the comics of old, complete with a mask and all. There was a lot that was lost in this current world, she found out many years ago: there was so much from the past that they had discarded. Paintings, books, lyrics, most of it had been burned to useless ash in the transition to the society they had. A real art apocalypse. She had heard of the masters, but never really learned about them from how they kept a tight rein on education. Although from fragments she had found in the underground, she knew enough. Art was a method of expression unlike any other. It was said to be a reflection of the world around it.


The fact that most art was destroyed spoke volumes of what kind of world they lived in.


Claris was an idealist. Others -- only a small circle, really -- called her mad. The government feared that art would spark a revolution, and they were right to be afraid. Rebellion was exactly what she wanted to force with every statement she performed. She was fully aware of the consequences, for this was far more than simple vandalism. It was a hit against the foundations of this world.


She shook the pair of cans in her hands. It was a rather beat-up hunk of aluminum metal scratched in many places, cast and pressurized herself. Many more of these existed in the city, in the hands of delinquents everywhere, labeled with the appropriate colors but otherwise unmarked. No one could trace them back to her that way, and there was more than though scrap metal in the city.


She put her breathing mask over her mouth and tightened the elastics. No use getting killed by her craft before getting killed by the state. From the back she would have looked like any other young delinquent prowling the streets with their hood up to hide their head, set aside only by the daring fact that she wore white in a place otherwise frequented by people who wear dark clothes to fade into the shadows. It was another foolhardy move to be a bright target in a dark world, they said. She didn't care.


She began her work with strokes of green and red that glowed under the purple lights filtering in through the streets. The paint worked because it was fluorescent, absorbing the ultraviolet rays many of the Luna lights emitted and releasing it as visible light. Simple science learned in school. She worked quickly and in silence, laying down her shapes and glancing around her from time to time to make sure no one was around. If worst came to worst, she would have to run and come back later -- though Claris was no stranger to brawls if it came to that.


She swapped her colors out for the black and blue held in holsters on her belt, her hands working around each other as if they were separate entities. She might not have been a genius in her class at school, but there was no doubt she had immense skill in this lost art. Whatever talent she had at first, she built on in secret.


Filling in one bit of the wall at a time, she transformed the otherwise dull scene into a psychedelic wonderland. Sometimes she based her work on what she saw when less-than-legal substances were involved. A lot of it was inspired by how she imagined a world that was brighter. The brightness of the predominant neon greens shone on her skin and reflected in her eyes when she gave it a closer look. She tentatively ran a finger over it to make sure it had dried. Quick-drying for quick works, washable for easy elimination of evidence for would-be artists… The only thing she needed to work on was a way to make it smell less distinctive. She couldn't really smell it through her mask, but she knew that anyone around would know something was up from the strong scent. It was in her advantage to work fast, in all cases. Give them a peek before vanishing without a trace, as she was so good at doing.


When she was done, she holstered the six cans back onto her waist. It was a relatively short job done for fun. There was no need for those big prototype paint guns yet. Those would be reserved for another time.


Using the rest of her neon green, she sprayed the ground around her. Stepping on a dumpster to gain some height and some privacy, she took off her hoodie, reversing it so it showed black instead of white and revealing her exposed belly button and her white hair for a split second. She flipped her hood back up to hide her hair again and pulled the bottom of her sweater down so they hid her belt with the paint cans.


Claris took off her mask and scrunched her nose at the smell. She fumbled in her pockets for a fire and a smoke as she walked away, careful to observe anyone around. She struck her lighter with her thumb, brining the light to the tip of her cigarette and shielding the fire with her other hand. The sweet but sharp scent of the smoke she breathed out hinted that it wasn't regular tobacco rolled up in the paper.


She paused. The smoke let her relax, but there was definitely someone here in this otherwise desolate alleyway. Her bright green eyes darted to the side. Was it a bum of some kind, or…?


"Yo." She stopped in front of the young man, whose blond hair was matted with sweat and his sharp features covered with dust as he sat in a corner. He looked tired, but too satisfied for his own good. She put two and two together. She could see how some of the weaker female souls would be entranced with him. Good for him! He had a job. Young guy, though. He was probably smarter than he looked, but be might be useful. She chewed on the end of her cigarette, fully aware that she looked like a young man herself, breathing mask around her neck. "What 'chu doing here, sitting like a bum?"


((P.S. I've been listening to Radioactive by Imagine Dragons for four hours straight to write this post. Here's some actual glow-in-the-dark graffiti for you to look at.))





He sighed. Not another of these dang balls he had to attend. All he had to do was stay put and simply look as noble as a country boy could be, and to absolutely avoid embarrassing his Aunt Jerry. He loosened the cravat at his neck. It couldn't be helped. He was just a clumsy boy in a setting which didn't fit him at all. All the girls wore such pretty gowns. The clothing of his own gender was pretty lacklustre in comparison -- why was it that men couldn't wear suits of various colors, decorated with lace and beads?


He lifted his head up to observe the ceiling. The hall itself was lavishly decorated, with a high vault from which hung several sparkling crystal chandeliers. Sunlight filtered through the stain glass windows of the gigantic room, casting brilliant colors onto the patterns of the white marble floor. Paintings and rugs adorned the walls, with every surface polished until it gleamed. Randall had never seen so many brilliant things in one place; only in Apollo did the nobility feel fit to make a grand display of their wealth to share with the people who attended their events. More people peeked through the interior balcony area, but most of them were gathered in the atrium, where a large space was cleared for dancing couples. The chamber musicians were playing in a corner, providing music to the event. Musicians were another thing Ralph was normally alien to, and so was dancing.


He couldn't understand it. It was just moving in unison to the music, right? With a fair maiden holding you, and you holding her as well. Randall stood to the side, standing a little straighter and stiffer to avoid catching the gaze of anyone in particular, whether it would be a young woman asking him for a dance or an older relative of his encouraging him to mingle. If only he could find the path to the balconies he could see...


He scuttled to the snack table, taking a glass teacup graciously filled with sweetened tea by the servants. There was a brilliant display of cheese and meats cut in small, half-bite cubes. Making sure no one was looking, he grabbed a handful and made a brisk walk for a less busy space.


((ugh. I'll finish this in the morning.))

Edited by TehUltimateMage

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Tulvir looked up when somebody talked to him. The delinquent stood up. "Well, LOOKIE what we have here? Somebody coming over for a chit chat." He looked at this person. "Just, you know, counting cash. None for you, though." The kid looked at the cig. "You got one of those to spare?" He had a fake smile. He didn't often get his hands on one. If he did, he made it last.


((Short posts neeeerr))

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Claris tilted her head to the side, frowning, then fished a cigarette from the box in her pocket. It wasn't uncommon for her to come into possession of the commodities of the underworld. Hah! Counting money. How funny. He probably earned only a fraction of what she did, the poor kid. She rolled the cigarette between her fingers before tossing it to the young man along with her lighter, a small item painted various psychedelic shades. "Keep 'em both," she stated simply. "Think of it as a present. I'm feeling charitable today."


Perhaps it would ease his nerves a little; the smoke already made her body and brain relax. Many wondered about the advantages of reduced alertness in dangerous places, but it cleared her mind. "They call me Claris. You could say I'm a delinquent," she said, a twinkle in her eye. "This is my usual spot."

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Down in the streets of Luna, far below the high rises of Athena's grand citadel - the Arrow of Artemis - it was currently raining.

It wasn't unusual for it to rain. Evaporation and such was handled by the tower itself. The water which fell upon the passerby who decided to walk in it was actually runoff from the plant farms of the tower, which gave food and air to the city.

Without the light of the Sun, the first hundred or so years of Luna had been horrible. They had believed themselves cursed by some God, unable to grow food to support themselves. Trees began to die. Only scarce few plants survived, and those became cultivated by the Moon Farmers.

However, knowing what caused it did nothing to change the fact that it still drenched areas of the town almost daily. Civil engineers had developed gutter-like contraptions which flowed along the sides of buildings. But they had been built years ago, and those in the lower-class areas weren't kept well. Water leaked from them constantly. It was just another thing to suffer through.

Some poets of Luna had once - once, before their emotions and romantic thoughts had all but faded away entirely - said that it was quite a beautiful sight, this eternally, moonlit rain.

But they had been fools. The rain chilled to the bone. It caused sickness. It was filled with additives used to keep the plants alive. And it was constantly recycled.

It never stopped raining poison in Luna.

But, far above these watery streets, above the roads which scaled the Arrow of Artemis (for cars which still used them), beyond the buildings of the ten most wealthy and prestigious families of Luna, a single man finished speaking to a microphone.

War President Altonas Canadrey, sovereign commander of Luna's immensely efficient and powerful military war machine. With a sweep of his hand, he led over a thousand armed units within Athena alone, capable of eradicating whatever enemy dared to stand before him.

His long, black-white hair lay upon a suit covered in medals and war ensignias. The cloak of Luna, decorated with the symbol of Athena's staff and Artemis' bow, was clasped over his right shoulder. Silver white gloves were placed upon his hand. Purple eyes surveyed every movement in front of him with almost emotionless scrutiny.

Many had come before him, indeed. They had tried to usurp him, and failed, and he had slain them without mercy. His code was strict and unforgiving. His one, unavoidable, unbreakable law, was simple, if one wished to keep their lives:

Always obey a direct order.

Of course, this had met with much resistance in the early years, but those without leadership quickly fall into line. If the leaders rise, you slay them, or subjugate them. The easiest way to control the masses is by controlling those they are faithful to. Men. Heroes. Gods. If you can make those three serve you, all at once, then your control is absolute. Monarchs knew of the value of being backed by the Gods. What man would turn upon a king who said he was giving the orders of an immortal being far beyond their comprehension? When blind faith is involved, it is as easy as herding lost sheep back within a pen, even if that pen is decorated to look like a castle.

But a pen is a pen.

He brushed his hand across the podium, uninterested, moving a speck of dirt from the surface. For a moment, he reflected upon this.

"How droll. " he finally whispered, after a long moment of silence. Behind him, two of his loyal servants bowed as he moved between them. They knew not to question his thought processes. It was best to simply listen and not ask.

He moved with calculated steps, heading back through the corridors of the peak of the Arrow as he always had, back to his study, where he would stay until the next speech took place. As for what he did inside of his study was anyone's guess, if anyone cared to try. Some said he kept a god prisoner there, forcing him to speak to him and give him advice.

He placed his hand on the door, stopping for a moment. The two servants behind him stopped as well as he held up his hand.

"Kings. Presidents. Tyrants. Messiahs." he said firmly, not giving them a glance, but his words directed to them both. "They are all synonymous with one thing - Leaders."

He took a moment for them to absorb what he said as he turned around, his gaze stern.

"A leader is not determined by what he does, but what the public considers him to be. If I kill a man in cold blood before a group, I am deemed a murderer. But if I kill a heretic before an entire nation, I am deemed a holy crusader. If I crush a kingdom for its territory, killing all who inhabit it, I am considered a monster. But if I convert a kingdom to my side through foreign trading an affairs, eventually annexing it, I am a peaceful lord. It is not the actions, but the methods of how they are made.. or rather, how they appear to have occurred."

He drew his blade softly, the soft hum of metal sounding quite loud in the silence as he bared it in his right hand.

"And what is it considered if I decapitate one of my close servants, who is currently carrying a knife, hoping to become some form of martyr for stabbing me while my back is turned?" he whispered, his voice chill. "Am I a cold-blooded killer, or am I acting in self-defense?"

He sighed, taking the blade with both hands. One of the servants gave the other a glance. The other servant remained silent.

"But let us consider, for a moment, the consequences of my action should I slay him, here and now." Canadrey stated. "Of course, another assassin's life is ended, as fitting of the punishments decreed by Luna's laws. But, what of those who hired him? If, for instance, he was hired by a small group and paid a (I hope) fine price for my blood, then the repercussions of my killing reach only them... But if they were, perhaps, hired by a large, unanimously decided group, who have deemed my life negative, then the murder will be seen as the killing of a martyr, and will fuel the creation of even more blind fools, heading into the slaughter."

He sighed, bored. He flicked the blade once.

The servant who had been silent gasped once, and then went still, as his head toppled from his lifeless body without a sound. The other servant held his tongue, but had broken into a cold sweat.

"Unfortunately for you, Anmos, I really don't give a damn how many come after my life..." Canadrey said, cleaning his blade on the man's corpse. "In fact, I welcome them to try. It provides entertainment that distracts me from this.. bleak, eternal existence I lead."

He sheathed the blade with as much deliberation as he had withdrawn it, giving a glance to the servant who still lived.

"Oh come now, Paran." Canadrey sighed, patting the man's head condescendingly. "He may have been your brother, but he was a traitor. And if you do not believe me, feel free to check his sleeves."

Paran gave them a glance, swallowing loudly.

"No. Not at all sir. I will trust your better judgement."

"Precisely." Canadrey said, opening his study door. "However, I expect this body (and the blood) to be gone before the delegates arrive. I don't want them to think poorly of my decorum."

"Of course sir."

"Oh, and bring me a drink while you're at it."

"...Any.. preferences, sir?"

"Red wine." Canadrey smiled, noting his servant's obvious, slight displeasure. "Spiced."

"Uh.. right away, sir." the man saluted expertly and began his work of removing his brother's corpse from where it lay.

Before Canadrey headed into the study, he held up a finger.

"Oh, and by the way, when you report to your assassin guild later, or whoever you both worked for.... make sure to give them ALL the details of your failure. I want them to know I'm a bit of a challenge to handle."

The servant looked absolutely shocked, caught in his guilt, as Canadrey walked into his room, shutting the door with a click.

And then all went silent.

Down below.. the rain still poured.




"Number 2213?"

"Yes?" Garas asked, lifting the radio to his mouth.

"We've got a bit of a standoff down here, further within the complex. Leader of our squad is calling in for reinforcement measures. Your location is the closest to ours"

"What do you need?"

"Head down the eastern steps of the complex to the thirteenth floor. There's a man there who appears to be armed with explosives and artillery. That's all we can see via the infrared and the cameras which they haven't found and destroyed."

"Are you sure.. this is a job for me?" Garas asked, confused. For some reason, he felt like he was getting the butt end of the stick.

"Of course. We're keeping him from fleeing from the upper levels by shutting off the stairs. We worry sending anyone more than you will make him panic and do something drastic. As such, since (according to the files) your speech skills and leadership have been above most in the current regiment, we are asking you to negotiate with him."

"I'll do it." Garas immediately accepted, feeling slightly special. Shooting these people - even with non-lethal rounds - felt weird. It would be nice to see if he could simply talk it out.

He opened the first door from the room he was currently in and peered down the staircase. Sure enough, there was no one there, and no one seemed to be trying to run up the steps. From what he could gather, the stairs where the flanking team was was on the other side of the building, in the fire-escape. He had no idea if there were any other exits, save the elevator, which had been deactivated remotely before the drop off.

He turned back to the room he had been in, giving it one last appraisal. Two of the people who had followed him to this floor - Numbers 2214 and 2211 - were standing in the room itself. One was at the window, aiming out in case the drug dealers called for reinforcements. The other had his gun aimed with non-lethal ammo at the five who were tied up in the middle of the room. They were currently discussing the rights of the five individuals, checking for ARMs, and ..

He heard a gunshot. Well, if they didn't have proof they were Lower Class or Higher Class... that was how they were dealt with. He heard a few cries of resistance from the others who were tied up before the gun was pointed at them again, and they went silent.

Trusting they could handle this floor - and, honestly, not wanting to be around the new addition to the morgue that had just been made - Garas went through the door and headed down the metal steps, pistol out and held in both of his hands to steady his aim at the slightest movement.

When he finally reached the final step, he muttered a few words to calm himself, touched the pendant on his chest, and then placed his hand on the doorknob.

He opened it slowly, gun first, as he entered the room.

In the center of the room, indeed, was a lone man, facing away from the door. Garas tried to determine how to best get his attention without shocking him.

He lowered his own gun and called out quickly, hopeful.

"Hey, ... sir?" Garas said, struggling for words. He wanted to add something more, but what else could he say? He couldn't promise this criminal anything. Everyone knew the punishments for each class who decided to deal in contraband. He could only hope this was a Lower Class or Higher Class member. Anything else, and they would have nothing to lose by taking a few guards with them on their way to meet their makers.

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Vanthen 24, 3012.

Log number 813.

Valerian "Raven" Remington's Journal.


"...Today's a risky day. I finally got enough support from my operatives to conduct a small raid on a rather peculiar storage a few days ago. Security was tight, as usual, but the team worked well together and we quickly got rid of them. Miraculously, we managed to acquire a whole bunch of Year injectors. Not that the antibacterials and usual medicine are bad, but... the Years we'll get out of those boxes are gonna be really useful, especially for the ones of us that are still part of the 'real' world.

To be honest... I've barely gotten any sleep these three days. First night after operation was the worst. I barely managed to convince the doc to give me a sedative after two days of no sleep, constant headaches and... breakdowns. Slept over 16 hours last night. All because of one chemical dose...

Woke up this morning with a slight headache. It subsided after a quick pain reliever, thankfully. Talked with Atros about the operation sometime in the afternoon. His group is moving down toward the bay, apparently. He said they'll probably be here by the evening, since there was a sonar deployed near the southern beach and they had to keep very low so as to not be found. I postponed the mission for now, against many people's objections. We couldn't afford getting caught by the goverment.

Let's just hope they manage to reach us in time... no one knows when the Security Force will find out about this and rain down hell on us. Raven out."




The young man of the same name blinked softly as he stared at the moon outside. It was shining down on him, its full form filling him with both hope... and worry. He silently supressed the feelings whilst his hand moved to his neck and retrieved the small key from his neckline. His eyes focused on the blue shape...


Valerian! Mom has something for you, hun.

What?! What is it?!

Oh my... impatient, as always. You know you can't get a gift if you behave badly like that, Val!

... Yes, Mom. Sorry about that, I was overjoyed!

Ah... it's okay, sweetie. I know you love times like these. We don't have much... but you still enjoy what little you have with your tiny soul. Such a good child...

Erm... sorry, mom, but can I see your present?

Oh! Sorry, hun, I just... remembered something. Here, have this. I want you to keep it near your heart... and, whenever you need me, just know that I'll be there, for you.

Mom... you didn't have to... it's beautiful.

No. This is barely anything, honey. A key costs nothing to make. You deserve much more. You live in a place that is far from suitable for looking after a child... You miss me, don't you? When I disappear every often? So... when I'm not here, keep this key close to you... remember me...

Why do you say that, mom? You... won't disappear like dad, will you?

No. But one day... one day, mom will no longer be as strong as she is. She will be frail and weak... and, one day, she will no longer live. The only thing that will keep you hoping... will be the key... to another life...


Silently, the man shut his eyes, leaned back and took a deep breath. He let the necklace fall under his shirt, then lifted his hand to wipe the wet feeling from his eyes.

"Sir?" A young voice came from behind him, causing the man to immediately straighten up. He quickly turned around and spotted a young boy.

"Oh, Miles?" The man asked softly as his figure turned toward the room. His arms slightly split open and the child bolted forward, then embraced his lower body. Though shaken by the speed, the older man remained in place and placed his hands silently on the boy's shoulders.

"Raven... why are you sad?" Miles' tiny voice echoed out from his feet after a few minutes of silence. The kid lifted his head up toward the bigger man's face and gazed at him with a sad expression. Small streaks welled up in the young boy's eyes, but they were carefully wiped away by the man's hands.

"That... that is something all of us live through, boy. Sadness... is a part of all of us. Pain... is a part of all of us. We may be oblivious to it at first... but, sooner or later, it consumes us... and rips us apart, if we don't do something about it." Raven replied confidently as he silently made the boy let go of him, then turned to gaze out through the open window.

"Sorrow, joy, anguish, happiness... all humans have these... emotions. It is as much a part of us... as the warm, thick, crimson water that fills our veins and keeps us moving." He continued, whilst his body lightly leaned on the edge of the window.

"Thus, your question... is not correct. What one must truly ask, young friend... is why we live. Why we continue to exist in a world, darker than the sky we see every night..." Raven finished with a soft sigh, then turned back toward the interior.

"Get moving, Miles. This is no place for a child... such as yourself." The young man answered the child which momentarily ran off to keep away from the danger that was coming. Silently, the elder released a sigh and continued to stare at the outside.

Soon. The other forces were arriving in an hour... so it was a matter of time for them to leap into action and secure the port.




It had been almost sixty minutes since the last words that Raven had shared with the young child. A small beep from the man's figure signified something for him. He raised his hand up instinctively and placed it over his ear.

"Commence the operation, everyone! Do your best." The young man spoke into a hidden earpiece, then silently pulled down the zipper of his coat. Once it was open, he braced himself, then slowly moved through the window. He slid down the building's side, then rolled once he came in contact with the concrete floor and finally reached the port's main floor. His hand went out, pulled out a concealed weapon from the inside of his cloak and took it in both hands.

"Everyone down!" Multiple voices echoed out from behind the administration building of the port. Civilians immediately lied low as the assailants moved through the deck. An alarm suddenly blared out from the speakers, indicating that security was already informed. Shots started to raise noise within the once quiet port, which made the young man groan, his voice filled with irritation.

God dammit... they're resisting... time for plan B... Valerian thought to himself as he aimed down the sights of his weapon and fired off a shot. It sailed through the air and hit a ground-bound AC transformer. The bullet went through the weak aluminum hull and pierced the circuitry inside. A loud shock echoed out, followed by a boom, after which the lights on the deck were killed, submerging the platform in black.

"Put on night vision. Move quietly, keep to the shadows, and keep kills to a minimum." Raven commanded through the intercom as he retrieved a hidden device from the back of his belt. He silently attached it to his right ear, then folded the display over the corresponding eye. A second passed by as it powered up, went through the basic booting process and activated fully.

Now shrouded by the dark, the man rushed forward and leaned on a nearby container's wall. Though it was darker than before, the moon was still shining over them. The fact it was currently a full moon was not helping, either. However... the shadows were much more emphasised right now, so they could easily keep out of sight by sticking to them.

Footsteps echoed out from around the corner, catching the man's attention. He silently prepared himself as a pair of legs swung past him, followed by a whole body. Once some distance was made, the one in the shadows sprang into action and immediately looped his hands around his opponent's neck. Seconds went by as the man struggled in his embrace, but soon went limp. Raven drew the man back, toward the corner. He silently placed his body down, then turned around. Spotting the guard's weapon on the ground, he lifted his leg and slammed his foot down on it, turning the intricate work inside into a chaotic mess. Then, after brushing some hair out of his eyes, the man ran off.




It was now around half an hour since the successful siege of the port. After restraining all the guards, the engineer in the group repaired the damaged box and the whole platform was brought back to life. Having seen this, the once hidden submarine resurfaced and docked within. The loading process was almost over by now.

A few of the rebels were already working on the main floor on the bay. They were hauling packages and boxes, filled with medical supplies.

One of the boxes fell on the ground, causing its driver to go red with shame. Less than a few seconds later, Valerian appeared in front of his control cabin, his visage dark.

"You dropped 20 shots, 2 sets of antibiotics cases and at least 20 cases of medicine..." He remarked as his eyes softly went over the items that had been lost. His face twitched with anger as he looked at the ruined materials and thought about the damage. An annoyed groan echoed out from him as he swung to the side of the vehicle and swung the door open.

"God dammit... just get on board, you don't really have a lot of work anyways." Valerian replied, causing the once worried man's eyes to go wide with suprise. Releasing a soft sigh that barely left his mouth, he watched the male exit the machine and then move toward the docking platform to join the most rebels that were now getting into the submergible cruiser.

"Boss!" A voice echoed out from his earpiece and quickly caught his attention. He raised his hand up and pressed the button on the side to answer.

"Yes?" He answered firmly, his body turning around and starting to move toward the small office of the shipyard company.

"NSSF. They're inbound. ETA on landing... two minutes." The woman from earlier explained, causing Raven to stop at the entrance. His eyes went wide as he planted his arm into a wall nearby, the kevlar barely managing to absorb the shock exerted on his gloves by his punch. He knew that the submarine would take time to fully submerge... He needed to create a distraction so it could get out in time.

"Groups Alpha and Delta, move to the deck and keep away anything that can damage the sub! Beta, Charlie, remain in the office and fight back. We're gonna buy as much time as we can!" Raven commanded through the earpiece as he put his gun away. Seconds after he had spoken, the entrance in front of him burst open and men from the two squadrons first mentioned flooded toward the deck. Valerian silently switched the channel on his earpiece as he walked into the building.

"Atros, shut the doors, seal everything and submerge immediately! You have around two minutes before NSSF rains down hell on you! Keep low, do NOT try to assist us and just move to the checkpoint." The man yelled out as he scaled up the stairs, then swung one of the doors in front of him open and shut it behind himself.

"Sir, we can't..."

"Do you want to live, or do you want to die? You are the PRIORITY of this mission, my friend, and I will not let the VIP fall! Get those supplies to safety, now!" Raven continued, his voice laced with anger. A sigh came from the other side, filled with regret and worry.

"...Good luck, Raven."

"Thanks. Now get going." The man replied, then switched the channel yet again. He lifted one of the chairs on the floor and placed it down properly, then took a seat on it and gathered his breath.

"Everyone that has been following me today... thank you. I shall not, will not and cannot stop anyone from running here, if they wish to. But... if you wish to deny this opression, even if for a little... stay and fight... for the ones that no longer wish to stay under that damn Canary's rule." He spoke out, his voice shaking, yet firm. He removed the device from his ear, then crushed it in his hand and threw it off into a dark corner.

A few moments passed by as he stood in silence, wondering how to further buy time for the submarine. His eyes wandered around the room... and noticed a small workbench, covered with different, seemingly useless items. At least, to the normal observer.

"...Perfect..." Raven whispered to himself as he rose up and rushed to the desk. He started to work with everything that his eyes could see.

Three prime chemicals, mixed together into a concoction... along with a evaporizing loop... a small, remote trigger... a power source... and a simple way to spread the fumes...

He mixed three seemingly obsolete liquids until they turned into a bubbling solution with a strange gray color. Then, he used some tubing, a heat sink and a small container to create the evaporating section. He connected the top of the evaporator to a medium-sized fan with a high spinning cycle, then added simple circuitry and connected it with a heat blade from his utility pouch. Finally, he attached the sealed, uranium-cycle battery and remote activator from his visor to the crude contraption. After making sure everything worked, he took a step back and looked at what he had made. This... was a simple chemical bomb that could wipe the entire facility... and he knew just how.

Placing the entirety of the project in a small bowl, the man rushed off. He went to the far side of the room and approached the corner. There, a huge fan was spinning fresh air into the room. He drew a knife from his belt and opened the small case on the side, revealing the circuits inside. First, he cut power to the device. Without any power, the fan slowly ceased to spin and stopped fully, cutting the fresh air supply that once came into the room.

Using a wire from earlier and his trusty heat blade, he attached two ends on the circuit. Though they weren't soldered well enough for a machine of this size... it would power the machine long enough to spread the fumes throughout the whole facility. The machine whirred to life, but this time, the fans blew wind from within the room into the vents and through the entire system. For now... it was only a vent that didn't work properly.

"One flipped switch... and I can kill everyone within a 5 mile radius." Raven spoke to himself as he softly smirked, seemingly proud of his contraption. He turned around, went back to the chair and attached the activator to the bottom of his right glove. To hide his true weapon, he attached a tiny wire to each of the releases of the grenades on his pouch. They were flashes, really, but their large, robust size and coloration were exactly like a frag's. The explosion from a jury-rigged frag grenade... could create a small hole in the building and cause the entire thing to crumble down. Even the NSSF knew better than to risk the wrath of the 'Red Imploders".

It was time... to wait.




Only after a couple minutes did the sound of landing troops start to fill his surroundings. Random bumps along the building's surfaces echoed through the corridors as the soldiers landed along its metal plate-covered roof and walls.

Strange movement from the upper corner of his vision caught Raven's attention. He lifted his gaze up and his eyes came in contact with the surveillance apparatus on the wall. It had been inactive earlier... and now, it was focused on him, its crimson orb glowing and shrinking as the lens around it moved in a circle. He softly waved at it with the hand that still held the release wire on his belt, whilst the other lied flat on his hip. Sounds from upstairs caught his attention. Someone was coming down here, and he was in quite a rush. It seemed that the NSSF had found him.

The door behind him swung open and the dimly-illuminated storage room was bathed in the light coming from the entrance in front of the stairs. A voice, both young and confident, called out. Sir, it beckoned.

"Me... Sir?" Raven replied softly as the young man behind him walked deeper into the room. He let out a quiet chuckle which soon faded away and was replaced by the spinning motion of the fan and the anarchy outside. Slowly, he pushed with his feet and turned around to look at the other persona within the cold, damp room.

The boy was probably around his 20's. Probably even 20. He had a lean figure that was still pronounced in the right places, such as the biceps and the chest, but was ultimately more suited for the average man, not a soldier. His hair was short and strangely silvery white, whilst his eyes were covered by a pair of dark sunglasses. However, hints of purple color peered at him from the top of the frames.

"Heh... you truly know how to embarass people like me." The man spoke out with a soft smirk. Of course, his left hand was still holding on the trigger wire, but it was slightly slumped. His right one was still flat down, with the thumb folded into the concave inner part that had the switch attached to it. The man softly gestured with his head toward the left, where a pair of chairs sat.

"Grab one, make yourself comfortable... we could have a talk... for both parties' benefit, I think." The elder spoke out as he slightly pulled backward with his own stool.

"Let's start with your name. You better not use those stupid numbers you are called every damn day, too... I want your real name, and in return, I can share mine." He softly proclaimed, though his voice dipped to seriousness around the start. His left hand softly twitched as it grasped the metal clasp, still attached to a wire. The gun was left on the floor, as a welcoming gesture.

"I truly don't suppose that you want to call me Raven, right? I mean... Number 2213 is... bleh. I won't comment on how stupid it is."


(( I won't be outdone - for the first few posts, at least. happy.gif ))

Edited by KuroKishi

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The tension in the room was almost tangible, no matter how much this "Raven" fellow wished to dismiss it. It existed, and it held Garas in its thrall as he moved to sit beside the man, gun in his lap, his thoughts of hostile action gone - for now.

"My name... is .. Garas Barold." Garas frowned, slightly confused. For some reason, saying his name now, in front of this man, felt strange. But in the back of his mind, he remembered that the radio was on. Well... the first signs to successful negotiation was to establish trust. Swallowing slightly, he reached quietly to the radio on his chest and flipped the "BREAK" button to active.

"We have five minutes to speak before the radio begins to emit a loud alarm... and then we will both be in deep trouble." Garas said, using some of the lingo he had grabbed from the people along the way. Casual speak wasn't his forte.

He clasped his hands together, feeling the rush of adrenaline as he realized just what he was doing right now. For some reason, the tension within him was really mounting now. Something was prodding at the back of his mind. Why did this man's smile make him feel so uneasy, so afraid? Something was off.

The explosives on the man's belt were obvious flash grenades from this range, though still concussive and dangerous if used properly. But the man kept fidgeting with his glove every so often...

The realization came to him, and the fear only grew.

"Mr. Raven... that's a dead man's trigger in your hand, is it not?" he asked, though he feared the results of his query. "You.. you have no intention of leaving here peacefully... You.."

Now he knew exactly what that smell was that was now tingling his nose.

Where the both of them sat, they were dead men. These chairs would be where they left this world, together. Raven had never wanted to leave this building. There was no point.

For a moment which seemed like eternity, Garas sat with conflicting emotions. The NSSF had blindly walked into a deadly trap, one set by a mastermind who sat in front of him now. An entire regiment of 20 good men would be taken along with all the hostages they had... And he was sure their deaths would be viewed as martyrdom by the people who were helping them.

"You.. You did this.. to help somebody, right?" Garas asked, feeling nothing but anxiety now. No matter how much he chanted to himself mentally and tried to restrain himself, he honestly just wanted to hug his mother right now. His questions sounded weak. He hadn't been trained for this sort of situation in the slightest, not this sort of fool's errand. Why, Dear Moon, had he even entered this place in the first place!? His heart was racing now. Quickly, without thinking, he reached in his jacket and grabbed the shining, familiar pendant with his right hand, clutching it.

"I am sorry. Forgive me.." he whispered, both to Raven, and the thing in his hand. "I am... I am really afraid right now. I admit it. I should not be.. but I am... We are both going to die here, are we not?.. Can you.. can you at least let everyone else leave?... I do not mind.. dying... if they are safe... Oh what am I saying.. I do not want to die.. Not here..!..."

His mind was conflicted. He felt like such a weak child rather than the man he had just been. But he had never been tested for this sort of dangerous environment. He was just man with a mission. He had never once considered the fact he could die. Canadrey.. the teachers.. they had all made it seem like those of Luna were protected. Invincible.

But instead, he would die here, in a slum, by some sort of bomb this man had cooked up. This was his murderer. This man right in front of him. Well, he supposed there were worse people to be killed by.

"Well... I suppose if that is how it is... I will see you on the other side?" Garas joked weakly.

Moon, he didn't want to die...


(( Moon is like God to us. Dear Moon! Oh Moon! Moon dammit, I guess. Their religion completely changed after most of them decided the Gods abandoned them, so now they do not call upon Gods but the Moon itself, whom they believe is a diety, as well as any Gods who serve the moon in ancient lore. ))

Edited by Thaelasan

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((wall of text alert sorry not sorry))


Dio sat above the city, one arm hugging a metal railing, the other propping up her chin. From her perch, she could see the slums of Athena laid out like a map. She swung her legs up, silhouetting them against the lights below. After a moment she let them fall, the heels of her boots thudding against the dull brick building. The sound echoed for a moment before the roar of the streets beneath her swallowed it up. She squinted down at the distant roads, the streetlights and neon signs that lit up the endless night melting into brilliant pinpricks. The fragments of light were trapped between her eyelashes. A few sirens went off, their wailing cries muffled by distance and the thick velvet darkness. She blinked her eyes open.

There’s so many people in this city, but so little life to go around.

Sighing, she rubbed her eyes with the back of a hand. Soft rain fell on the landscape around her, drenching the blocky buildings, staining their bricks darker and darker shades. Luna lived in a seemingly endless drizzle. It almost made you wonder how the cityscape hadn’t been eroded away, worn smooth by the endless streams of water. Dark liquids pooled on the roads, the sidewalks, the rooftops, each puddle reflecting the haze of kaleidoscopic lights that lit up the city. The drops of rain glittered in the moonlight as they fell, sprinkling the sky with streaks of silver.

From up here, the city almost looked beautiful, if you could ignore the grimy, sleazy atmosphere. The Arrow of Artemis glittered in the distance, a beacon of cleanliness and pace, but the buildings of the lower city squatted around it, their facades grotesque and homely. The few lights in this district only served to lend extra menace to the night. The city was beautiful, perhaps, but only if you were very forgiving and didn’t know what lurked in the shadows.

Dio smirked, amused by the cliche. When you got down to it, everything and everyone here “lurked in the shadows”. It was unavoidable. This world was doomed to perpetual darkness.

It was her job to police these shadows, hiding and watching and calculating, scanning the maze of alleyways for crime. It was supposed to be her job, at least. Finding crime was a cinch, since there was a hell of a lot of it. Stopping it was another matter entirely.

She stretched luxuriously, sighing and raising her arms above her head. She cracked her gloved knuckles, relishing the feeling, then extended her cramped wings. She’d lost track of time up here. There was an exceptional view. She’d have to come back here to watch the night again. Taking a cursory look around, she noted the position of this particular building, committing its location to memory. It was about as peaceful up here as Luna could get, apart from the Arrow. She’d have to remember this and come back on long nights in the future.

Grabbing the steel fence beside her, she stood up, balancing precariously on the edge of the building. She unfolded her smudgy brown wings and fanned them through the air, the rain rolling in beads off the slick waterproof feathers. Taking in a lungful of cold night air, she let the invigorating chill melt through her foggy thoughts. Her mind cleared, her eyes returned to the sight beneath her feet.

Apart from some distant ruckus on the other side of the city, there wasn’t much happening. Not many people were out and about at this time of night. Not people Dio was particularly concerned about, at any rate. The only things that move below were streetwalkers, rebellious teens out past curfew, late-night workers; no one she felt like bothering. She’d have to go digging if she was going to uncover anything serious, and it was late enough in the evening that she couldn’t be bothered to go through the effort. There were better ways she could spend her time.

Yawning, she pulled out her handheld computer and checked the time. She was officially off duty, so she wasn’t obligated to do anything else for the rest of the night.

I could really use a drink.


Dio pumped her wings, testing the wind and loosening her muscles. Pushing against the concrete, she leapt upwards, turning to land heavily on the top rung of the fence. The soles of her boots clanged against the cold metal, her wings churning the air to help her balance. The fence wobbled underneath her weight, but she kept still, waiting for the lurching to cease. She steadied herself, taking yet another deep breath. For a moment she stood on the fence, outlined against the sky, then in one swift, coiled movement she leapt off the building.

Her wings unfurled, capturing the mild breeze. She drifted for a while, watching the buildings and streets rush past. The wind from her flight pulled her clothes tight against her body, yanking down her hood and making her eyes water. Quickly, she swiped away the tears and pulled on a pair of tinted goggles. Wheeling to the right, she steepened her glide, zoning in on an open street a couple hundred yards in front of her. The city rose up around her as she descended, swallowing up the noise of her wings. She twisted upright a few yards above the ground, breaking her fall with a few strong wingbeats. Her landing was noiseless, the only sound the whistle of her breath as she sucked in air. Mouth twisting into a wry smile, she let out a quick and breathless laugh.

Glad I didn’t fall on my face that time. I swear, this censorkip.gif never gets easier.

Tucking her wings close to her sides, she broke into a jog, wrenching off her goggles with a gloved hand. She hopped onto the sidewalk, her feet keeping time with her breath as they smacked against the concrete. She adjusted her hood, flipping it up over her head to keep out the rain, and tugged her facemask over the bridge of her nose. Half her face concealed, she darted down the empty streets.

As Dio passed darkened alleys and intersection, she shot them a cursory glance, more out of force of habit than any concern for her own safety. She counted the streets she passed, taking note of their names. She knew roughly where she was, but it didn’t hurt to be sure. It wasn’t difficult to get thoroughly lost in this accursed labyrinthine city.


A streetlight a few blocks ahead lit up the entrance to a small corner store. The pink fluorescent open sign hanging on the dusty window flickered on and off, winking at the darkness. She slowed her pace, letting herself catch her breath. She walked the last few yards to the entrance, the crackle and whine of neon lights greeting her. The store’s sliding door glided open with a silky, oily sound, welcoming her. An electric jingle from deep within the building sounded her arrival, betraying her presence to whomever was inside.

Dio pulled down her facemask, brushed off her hood, and took a last deep breath to slow her heart. She ducked through the darkened entrance, bowing her head to avoid the low doorframe. She stopped a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the deep gloom inside the store. The man at the counter looked up at her, pursed his lips, then bent back down over his tablet. The glow of the screen washed his face in a pale blue light.

“Just a moment,” he said, holding up a finger. He touched a button on the wall, flooding the small, crowded room with a soft light.

Dio winced and threw up a hand to shade her eyes. She blinked rapidly, waiting for the bright white glare to fade. The man at the counter cleared his throat

“Can I help you, lady?” he rasped, his tone betraying his annoyance.

Navigating carefully through the overstocked shelves, she walked over to the counter. She reached into a cooler set in the wall, yanking open the clear glass door. Scanning the bottles inside as quickly as she could, she grabbed one, the warmth of her fingers melting the thin glaze of ice covering the glass. Turning, she shut the door with a foot, and set the bottle on the counter.

“Just this, please.” she said, reaching into her jacket for her wallet. Flipping open the fake leather pouch, she tugged out a card and swiped it through a reader on the side of the cash register.

The shopkeeper sighed, dropping his tablet in his lap. He punched a few buttons on the register.

“You’re all set.” A couple of beeps confirmed the transaction. Dio nodded. “Want a bag for that?” The man asked, his voice tired.

She shook her head and grabbed the bottle. She twisted off the cap and took a swig, the liquid burning its way down her throat. She sighed, capping the bottle again.

“You wouldn’t happen to know of any dealers in the area, would you?” she asked, eyeing the shopkeeper. She turned to the side to take a look at a rack of packaged food. She grabbed a few bags of dehydrated fruit and tossed them on the counter.

The man stared at her for a moment in silence. “What’s it to you, eh?” His voice was skeptical. “You some kinda cop or somethin’?” She shrugged and swiped her card again.

“If there was anyone in the area, they'd be small time. Nothin' the cops should be worried about, ya dig?” He cleared his throat nervously. “Not that there is, mind. Anyone here, I mean.” He nodded to her, then to the cellophane bags on the counter. He rang the fruit up quickly, refusing to meet her eyes.

Dio twitched her lips, holding back a smirk. “Have a nice day, sir. Stay out of trouble.”

She pocketed the bags of fruit, uncapping the bottle to take another sip. Retracing her steps through the store, she exited the building. The doors glided shut behind her back.

Flipping up her hood again, she wandered slowly down the sidewalk.


It’s almost too quiet. No sirens, no shouting.

She shivered, not from the cold, although the air was biting.

What was that one line- “Tis now the very witching time of night.”?

The stillness of the night brought back excerpts of old books she’d been forced to read in school. Who were they by, again? The dark romantics? The supposed masters of dark imagery and thrills?

Her teachers- and nearly everyone else around her, come to think of it- had taught her that the feelings described and induced by those works were unfounded and extraneous. They only got in the way of progress and pure analytical thought. They had moved past those feelings as a species, apparently. The goosebumps on her arms beneath her thick body armor begged to differ.

In spite of the gloominess of the silent streets, Dio enjoyed nights like these. Not that she would admit that, or otherwise acknowledge it. She enjoyed nights when it was just her, alone with her thoughts, her only company a bottle of cheap alcohol and the echo of her footsteps. For a while, it let her block out the world. Almost made the rest of her life seem worth the trouble. Times like these was when she felt the freest. She could think freely, breathe freely, move freely. She could do things at her own pace and in her own time. No one yelling at her, not having to yell at anyone else...


She turned a corner, stifling a yawn. A wall rose up in front of her, demanding her attention. Its bricks were splattered with brilliant neons, the glowing paint tracing out surreal pictograms. Dio stopped in her tracks. She examined the wall critically, noting the splash of neon green on the ground. This wasn’t your average tag, scribbled hastily in cheap paints by some street punk. This was the work of a savant. Or, at the very least, someone with a lot of skill and enthusiasm. Pulling off a glove, she reached out to touch the paint. It was dry, the only texture belonging to the cold gritty wall beneath it. The paint was fresh enough to stink of aerosol fumes and toxic pigments. This was relatively recent. The artist could very well be nearby.

Lost in thought, she absentmindedly opened one of her bags of fruit. She shoved a handful in her mouth and chewed quietly.

Her superiors had instructed her in how she should treat “vandals”. Of all the criminals in this twisted city, Dio couldn’t scrape up enough righteous injustice to feel like tracking them down. Graffiti gave the city color, literally and figuratively. Who was she to destroy someone’s work, even if it was crude, or if it smacked of “rebel propaganda”. At worst, graffiti was the product of an angry kid blowing off steam through a little bit of vandalism. That was hardly a stirring rally cry. Propaganda be damned.

She took another handful of fruit, munching thoughtfully.

There were actual rebels within the city, among any number of hardcore criminals. It made no sense to go after “vandals”, when gangs were stealing and killing and getting jittery kids hooked on whatever new drug they had cooked up. Those things were dangerous and impactful. It made no sense to crack down on petty stuff like graffiti when the city was in danger of becoming a warzone. Although, to be fair to the more affluent members of society, defacing of their property most likely seemed to be a more pressing problem than a bit of scattered violence in the world below.

She thought it was amusing (or at the very least ironic) that the characteristics Athena discouraged so emphatically- daydreaming, self expression, artistic talents- were so fully encompassed in street art. Objectively, she could understand the urge to outlaw this behavior. At first glance, it seemed to inspire dissent and destructive behavior. That was the commonly accepted theory, anyway. Years ago, when this particular brand of vandalism had been stamped out fairly thoroughly, there wasn’t necessarily a decline in dissent and destructive behavior. There was probably an increase.

This Ectoslime, or whatever their real name was, the mysterious master of graffiti- their arrival had triggered a surge in paintings like these. You couldn’t go anywhere without seeing something scribbled in fluorescent paint. It was amazing how something so simple and seemingly benign could send the city into a frenzy. Not that it particularly mattered what she thought. No one asked her for her opinion.

Dio took one last look at the strange piece of artwork. Shoving the bag of fruit into her pocket, she swigged deeply from her neglected bottle. She finished off the drink, swallowing the potent alcohol with a satisfied sigh. She recapped the bottle, squinting in the glare of a streetlight, and massaged her forehead with her free hand. Her thoughts were scattered all over the place. She tried to wrangle them, move them into a more constructive direction. As much as she had her doubts about a lot of laws she worked to uphold, it probably wasn't a good idea undermine them, even in thought. They served a purpose. Whether she agreed with that purpose or not didn’t make a difference, and it was useless to expend energy complaining about something you couldn't change.

In a few more blocks, she’d find a building to climb and glide on home. It wasn’t far to her lodgings from here, but she didn’t feel up to walking the rest of the way. She was tired as hell and chilled to the bone. With a bit of luck and some more alcohol, she might be able to snag a couple hours of sleep. Rest seemed to be harder and harder to come by these days. She was slowing down. If she didn’t have plenty of Years in the bank, she’d pass it off as getting old. She couldn’t reconcile all the things she’d seen and done, and it was worrying her.


She massaged her temples again, twisted down the cap on the bottle as far as it could go. She shoved the empty container into a pocket on her hip, where it clanked softly against the holster of her gun. Slowly, she stretched her wings, then retucked them a little more loosely against her back. Staring up at the rooftops, she turned another corner, scanning the dark buildings for a fire escape or a ladder.

Too absorbed in her own thoughts to notice the occupants of the alley, she looked around for something to climb. Seeing nothing, she clicked her tongue and turned away, her eyes passing over the duo deeper in the shadows.

Frowning suddenly, she turned back. She looked at the duo again, trying to read their faces in the half-light. The embers from the smokes cupped in their hands glittered, catching her eye. The mild breeze wafted the smoke her direction. Taking note of the smell, she crossed her arms, one eyebrow raised.

“You two alright?” she asked, skeptical. One of the two, a boy with stark white hair, looked bedraggled and worn. She pursed her lips, trying to withhold judgement. It wasn’t uncommon to see a few haggard looking teens smoking in an alley, but something about these two made her uneasy. Years of on-the-job experience had given her a deep sense of trust in her instincts, and she wasn’t about to betray them now.


((nope, I definitely couldn't have split it up or made it shorter. it's fine don't worry about it.))

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(( Really nice wall, Ayesthine. happy.gif ))


The man sitting on the chair narrowed his eyes as the soldier drew closer. However, he returned to his calmer stature once the boy obediently turned off his radio. Five minutes... good enough, for now. He had a bargain chip and only one hostile to get past.

However, his visage turned to one of curiosity as the young man next to him noticed something even he wasn't aware of. He glanced down at his right hand and saw how it unconciously fumbled with the trigger.

He had revealed his trump card early, apparently.

Raven listened to the man's words as he continued, guessing correctly that he was, in fact, holding a bomb switch that could send them all away. He silently rose up from his chair, took a few steps toward the wall opposite of the boy and stopped in the middle of the room, still turned toward him.

"Mm... I was almost sure the vent would flush the smell out... but I guess you aren't called NSSF for nothing." He revealed to Garas, his voice slightly shaken and nervous. He dropped the small trigger wire, along with his left arm, and instead revealed the switch on his right hand. He had his thumb over it, ready to press the button at any second.

"A simple chemical mix I learned a long time ago... If I activate this, it will run through the entire venting system of the building and effect everyone inside of it. And... let's just say the gas you'll inhale, were I to press this button, would kill you within a couple minutes. At worst." Valerian spoke out confidently, his finger softly going over the surface of the plastic reciever. He watched the boy as he reacted to the death threat hanging in the air. The peculiar object that he retrieved from the inside of his uniform really caught his attention. Immediately, he walked up to the soldier, ignoring both hostility and hostage position and instead grasping the hand that was still holding the tiny locket.

"You... Garas... where did you get this from?!" He retorted, his voice spreading through the small room like an agressive echo. He silently analyzed the pendant, his blue eyes going over every detail on its surface. Sweat appeared over his brow as his nervousness increased, sending shakes through his body that threatened to make him lose his composure..

Then, seconds later, he let go of the device and stepped back. He couldn't die here. He had to know more. He had a new reason... to live on.

"Listen, Mr. Barold..." Raven began, his voice laced with uncertainty. "Right now, I am going to go through the door behind me, scale up the staircase, enter the corridor and use one of many exits I know of to escape the building."

He silently stepped backward and toward the exit. His back soon came in contact with the frame of the door. The sensation of sweet freedom coursed through his body and sent tingles down his spine, but he was still not fully out of it.

"Now... I take a step through this door and leave." Raven spoke out as his left hand went behind him and fumbled with the door's handle. Though he knew making use of a young man's panic was lowly as he could get... he couldn't die here, and he was not going to risk a fight with a bunch of soldiers. One was already enough trouble.

The door finally opened and swung open, allowing the figure at the entrance to slowly walk out and onto the stairs. He drew back the door using the handle, but left it semi-open.

"And... in return for my life... I grant you the life of the others within this building... and my name. I am Valerian Remington." The man spoke out softly. His hands were shaking, but he continued nevertheless. Quickly, he removed the device from his glove and threw it toward the boy's lap, then momentarily sealed the door.

As soon as the two metal surfaces came in contact, he was off. He turned around and pushed off the wall, then used the momentum generated to scale up the stairs in a heartbeat.

Panic flooded his system as he wondered where to go. Thankfully, the adrenaline flooding through his bloodstream also improved his senses, and he picked up noises from the left.


He immediately turned toward the right and ran down the floor, then made the turn toward the left. The man sprinted down the corridor, his eyes searching for any hint that could help in his escape.

Raven came to a grinding halt as he saw something on the wall. He quickly scanned the object and momentarily nodded to himself, then rushed forward once again.

There was an escape.

His hand went out to his right and grasped the corner of the wall, allowing him to swing down the staircase with alarming speed. He barely stopped himself from tripping by grabbing onto the railing, then dashed around and further down the spiral staircase.

"He went that way!" A voice echoed out from upstairs which made Valerian panic even harder. He ducked into a small room on the side, shut the door and leaned on it.

His heart was almost beating out of his chest. It refused to calm down and instead continued to pump blood around in quantities way too unusual for his bloodstream.

Deciding that it wouldn't stop anytime soon, Raven turned around and reopened the door. If this was to be a weakness... then he'd just turn it into a benefit.

Rushing out of the room and swerwing to the left, he ran down the corridor loudly. Footsteps came from the stairs as he reached the end of the hallway. Bracing for impact, the young man shut his eyes and turned shoulder-first toward the door, then slammed into it.

The rust-worn hinges on the frame broke rather easily as he sailed through the metallic arc and fell onto the ground with the wide sheet of steel. He pushed himself off the ground and continued moving forward. Now, he was on the deck.

Exfill... exfill... he thought as his body struggled to gather its breath. However, he ignored the burning feeling that was spreading through his lungs and instead contined to move.

He broke into a sprint and hastily dashed down one of the three aisles, formed by the cargo on the shipyard. A fault in the ground betrayed his footing, causing him to fly forward through the air. He managed to react on instinct and rolled forward. As he rose to his feet again, he noticed the pain that was spreading through his leg.

Cursing mentally, Valerian approached the edge of the dock. The scent of the sea clouded his senses, whilst the sound of water rushed to his ears. This was once a beautiful spectacle that people would often admire and swim within... but the sea next to Athena was just another dump for the corrupted water that flowed down from the farms. His eyes shifted nervously through the landscape around him, in search of something. Soon, he found it.

He rushed forward and came to a stop in front of a small, seemingly normal box that was planted into the ground. His hand was balled into a fist and then sent into the surface of the rectangle.

Suprisingly, it gave way easily and broke off in a couple pieces. The jagged edge and the small amount of dust left within, along with the chunks, indicated this was plastic.

His arm dove within the black maw of the shape and grasped around, in search of something. Seconds of silence passed by as the man worriedly moved his hand, then finally found his object of interest and momentarily drew it out.

He was left with a loop of interesting rope. It was nylon and seemed tough, but obviously had nothing to do inside of the average box. This... was something left specifically by one of the guards that worked here, but was in contact with the rebels.

Unbinding the rope, Raven attached one side to a nearby light pole. He threw the other over the edge. Grabbing a piece from the middle, the man looped it around his waist and grasped both sides of the rope with his hands. Then, in a matter of seconds, he walked over the edge.

The sensation of the world turning sent alarms down Valerian's nervous system, but he supressed them and instead held on tightly. He slid down the rope, the friction caused by the nylon that dug into the kevlar creating heat along his hands.

The man moved down the side of the dock, as if defying gravity, until he reached a peculiar hatch on the side. He kept hold of the rope with his right hand and drew a heat blade with his left. Swinging worriedly, he missed his target a couple of times, but ultimately managed to sever the small locks that kept the door attached to its steel frame. With a groan, the piece of metal detached itself from the bulkhead and flipped over, then plummeted into the sea.

Immediately, Raven grasped the edge of the hole with one hand. Once he was sure he could do this in one go, he let go of the rope, flipped his legs upward and then dove leg-first into the tunnel. The scent of the 'fresh' water outside gave way to a sickening, nasty odor. He slid through the liquid inside of the service tunnel for a few meters, then finally came to a stop somewhere down the middle.

This was one of the officials tunnels used to get rid of farm water. In all honesty, it was the ONLY actual official tunnel made by the goverment to remove sewage water used during production of groceries. The rest... just ran down the streets and eventually reached either small ponds or the sea.

Crouching inside of the small space, Raven moved forward confidently. He shut his eyes, covered his mouth and nose with one hand and used the other to navigate along the beams.

Soon, he emerged into a small, oval chamber, where multiple water flooders met. A lone ladder moved upward and into the underground section of the city. He immediately leapt on it and scaled upward.

With a grunt, Valerian pushed off the manhole cover and emerged from the small entryway. He silently resealed the hole with the plate of metal, then rose up. Wiping away the smears left on his body and brushing his clothing off, he zipped his coat up, placed both his hands in his pockets and hid his gaze behind the dark collar of his clothes.

He emerged from a hidden alleyway and reentered the busy crowd that lined the underground market.

For now... he was safe.

Edited by KuroKishi

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Tulvir looked at the person. "I'm Tulvir. That's what they call me. I roam around here, didn't know that somebody else hung here. Welcome to the Shadow Realm. That is what the delinquents around here call it." He looked at the new person. "So, is it you responsible for the awesome art around here? Knew a it wasn't Fartsy who did it..."


Esko had walked out of the building, playing with another puzzle as he walked outside. He fiddled with it as he wandered along the streets. He sat down on a bench and fiddled with the puzzle, bored out of his mind.


((My posts are stumps compared to the mightie walls of these other guys.


Any Luna person is free to bump into Esko. I honestly have nothing for the poor guy to do))

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((yo Esko, I don't think your character would be able to figure out Claris's connections to the graffiti that easily.))

Edited by Ayesthine

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Garas stood immediately to his feet as the man headed out the door, leaving him with only his name to go by. As it began to close with a click, Garas frowned, holding out his hand.

"Wait!" he said feebly, confused. The man had left him with his name. Valerian. Valerian Remington.

He still had two minutes before the radio began to blare... In that amount of time....

What did he truly desire, in this life? Would his mother have wanted to do what he was doing now, taking down Lower Class drug dealers and ending their lives so coldly?

He grasped the pendant in his hand, turning around and looking behind himself.

Behind him, the soldiers who treated him like a number. But, ahead of him, a man who had been the first to call him by name. For some reason, that felt worthwhile.

He grabbed the radio from his holster and held it out the window, bringing himself to do it.

"Are you watching, Mommy?" he whispered, pulling back his arm and preparing.

As the soldiers below watched, he hurled the radio out the window and ran to the door Valerian had exited through. He was still carrying the trigger for the bomb in his hand nonchalantly. As soon as the first soldier saw him, after he threw his radio, he aimed his gun at him.

"Number 2213! You have openly shown defection!" the soldier yelled. "Stand down or I WILL fire!"

Garas turned slightly, trigger in his hand. The guard's eyes widened.

"Be free." he whispered, pressing the button. The resulting explosion of chemicals sent a fume throughout the entire building, which had been mostly evacuated following his final call in - when he pressed the emergency button on his radio.

"Dammit!" the soldier cursed as he put on his mask while Garas followed the sounds of Valerian's footsteps down the stairs, past the fleeing guards as the smoke began to fill up the complex. He had no idea why he wanted so urgently to meet this man, but he felt this was only right. He felt this man could tell him what he needed to know, about the pendant, and about his emotions.

He pushed past two more guards who gave him blank stares. These weren't friends or people. These were numbers. The real person was running away from him.

"Wait!" Garas called to Valerian, as the man ran down to the docks. Garas realized he was very far behind, and the guards were catching up to Valerian's location. Frowning, Garas retrieved his rifle and fired three shots of stunning ammunition. The guards fell, shocked into unconsciousness.

"WAIT!" Garas yelled louder, as the man headed down into one of the service tunnels. Garas quickly slipped down the side of the pier, following him by grabbing the rope and heading down. Valerian was already inside the hatch. Did he think that Garas wanted to arrest him?!

"No! No! Stop I don't want to arrest you!" Garas protested. In his haste, he lost his grip of the rope and fell. He slammed into the murky waters of the service tunnel, the water splashing around him. Thankfully, it hadn't been a large drop, but it still stunned him for a moment. He drew out his pistol but thought against it. If he shot him now, the man would be even more likely to be afraid of him.

"I swear to you! I'm not-" Garas spat, trying to speak though his head was ringing. His voice echoed through the tunnel. He checked his person, making sure he hadn't dropped anything in his descent.

As he clutched his chest, he felt icy fear grip him.

The pendant!

He searched the waters where he had fallen, panicking. It was the only thing he had that meant anything to him at all. He sloshed water around haphazardly as he searched. He then noticed a glint of silver being carried away by the current. Another rush of water followed as he realized the farm's reservoirs were about to be dumped.

The farms kept a lot of the water at once in large vats. But sometimes, some of the water needed to be released to make way for cleaner water for cycling. If it dropped now...

The roar of water was getting louder now behind him. His adrenaline rose as he ran forward, lunging to grab the pendant. Now the entire tunnel was nothing but a roar. He now realized Raven had planned this all in the event of his necessary escape - the water would wash away all traces of where he had been, and he would be safe from danger. Any guards who followed him, however...

He grasped the pendant's chain just as the water overcame him. He was carried by the current, like a stick in a river, helpless. He could see an opening now, and heard someone climbing up a ladder.

It was an exit! Safety! It had to be. One of his hands still firmly clasped the pendant while the other grabbed hold of the bars of the ladder, his mind racing. The water was threatening to make him lose his grip. He sat there like this for a long moment as the water continued to pound against him on its way through the tunnel. He could barely breath, the stagnant liquid continuously covering his face.

But, after a long while, his head finally emerged from the waves, sodden and completely drenched. The water level receded, leaving behind the usual slight river of filth. Sighing with relief, Garas checked his hand.

The pendant, though a bit dirty and wet, sat in his open palm, gleaming in the dim light. He noticed that the manhole had been replaced. He climbed up the ladder, noticing with some interest that a few marks had been dug into the cement of the service tunnel wall, probably to mark for the criminals who used it what they were about to enter, or perhaps a remnant of the engineers who had once built it.

He pushed up on the metal, lifting it quietly as he peeked his head out.

He could just barely catch a glimpse of Valerian's familiar jacket as the man headed into the crowd.

"Damn!" Garas swore quietly. How was he going to catch him now?!

"'Ey! Watcha doin' dere, son?"

Garas almost jumped out of his skin as the manhole cover was lifted off of him. His gaze lifted upward until he was staring into the eyes of an old, bedraggled man with long, silver hair, wrinkled skin, a beard down to his stomach, and a few missing teeth. One of his eyes obviously had cataracts.

"Hold on dere. You a friend o' Raven's, boy?" the old man asked, cocking his head. "Well damn! I though that boy would ne'er get no friends. He's a cold one. Well, leastways as I know him. I don't know nothin' bout his pers'nal affairs, o'course."

"I'm... having problems understanding you sir. I'm sorry." Garas said slowly, confused. He emerged from the manhole, realizing now just how drenched he was. So this was the feeling of ...cold. It did not feel pleasant.

"Oh shoot, boy! You stay like that, yer liable to get a cold! Well, I know that ye probably got some fancy med'cine to take care 'o that, but why not nip it in the bud fore you get it, right boy?" the old man said, lifting up a blanket from nearby and placing it on Garas' shoulders.

"...I am confused." Garas admitted, pulling it tighter around himself.

"So am I!" the old man grinned, patting him on the shoulder. "They say I'm an old fool for helping out people like you. Personally, I like to think I'm jus' carryin' on the line o' tradition! Folks should be nicer to each other, ya agree?"

"Uh.. yes!" Garas said, suddenly realizing what the man was asking. He'd been appraising the man since he'd met him.

"Oh! Right! The name's uh... what were my name again?" the man asked, rubbing his head. "Oh! Oh yeah! Reld! Reld Murnon! Right? Right! Yeah."


"Reld. Like weld. But with an r." Reld replied. "Though most people just call me Rel, or R. But you can call me whatever you like. I don't care none."

"You speak... oddly." Garas commented, unsure. "Are you ill?"

"Uh... nah. Can't say I feel sickly." Reld rubbed his head again. "You mean my mannerism of speakin'?"

"If.. that is what you call it." Garas was forgetting why he came out here in the first place.

"Just my accent boy." Reld crossed his arms, smiling. "But enough about that, sure nuff. You friends with Raven?"

"Valerian?" Garas made the connection almost immediately.

"Yep. Boy howdy!" Reld nodded. "He left you behind, didn't he? Probably off to run an errand. I can give ya his ARMs connection number, if ya like."

"Yes! Please!" Garas grabbed the man's shoulders. "I have to speak to him!"

"Woah woah woah. Slow down there boy." Reld assured. "I'll do that after ye warmed up a bit and calmed down. I heard the water down there. You coulda drowned. Don't you feel scared or somethin'?"

"...Not.. particularly... I guess.. Because of my mother?"

"Is she with you?"

"No.. but she gave me this pendant-" Garas said, showing it slightly.

"My god! That's pure, genuine silver, ain't it." Reld said, awestruck. "Haven't seen pure silver in years. That stuff's high class stuff. You high class?"

"Yes.." Garas admitted. He knew how a lot of the lower class felt about high class people. "Do you wish to have your blanket back, then?"

"Hell nah. You can keep it as long as you like." Reld waved his hand dismissively. "I'll go give Raven a call, get him up to speed. You just get warm, ok son?"

With that, he left Garas and headed over to a nearby box where he sat down. He then brought his arm up to his face where his ARM was and typed a few keys in.

"Raven.. Raaaaven." Reld whispered, sighing. "C'mon, answer boy. Don't leave this poor kid out here all day."

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In a world where darkness reigns, where ones emotions have been dulled by Martial Law and restricted living conditions, there is someone who has found a form of joy. A form of self-indulged pleasantry, of arousal and gratification.


Within a dimly lit house, in the lower district, shattered glass and broken furniture littered the floors. Within the dining area, the ceiling lamp swung to and fro and muffled cries faintly rang in the halls. Whatever had occurred was certainly recent as the smell of fresh blood began to permeate in the air the closer one got to the dining room.


Restrained to a chair by ropes and chains, a man who had been stripped of everything but his undergarments struggled to get free. A small, young woman sat upon his lap, her head resting against his shoulder as her fingers slid across the man's bloodied chest, stopping in the center where she began running up and down the man's sternum.


"You sure did put up a struggle, didn't you? Well, at least we can finally have some fun."


Leaning closer to the man's neck, the young woman nipped at his neck, pinching a small part between her teeth until blood began to be drawn. Of course, this enticed the man to curse and struggle against the restraints once more to no avail.


"Why? Why me? I'm not a bad person, my genes are sufficient to pass on."


"Is that what you think? Is that what they told you? Let me ask... how efficient are your genes if a girl half your size was able to subdue you? Pity I wasn't able to do it without receiving any injuries myself, but it got me all worked up and ready."


What occurred henceforward was extremely graphic and gruesome, but the NSSF knew exactly who had been responsible. Mina Rayne Petrovsky, a 22-year old young woman who had once served in their ranks. Few knew the reasoning behind her expulsion, but those who did never felt comfortable investigating her scenes. They were gruesome and always left the investigators uncertain, uncomfortable, questioning the very foundation of their training.


Sitting on the edge of one of the towers in the upper district, Mina was humming a tune to herself as she looked out across the cityscape. Grasping firmly on the edge, Mina threw her legs out and above herself, coming into a handstand for a brief moment until she propelled herself onto the main part of the roof, holding her hands above her head like a gymnast awaiting their score.


"Who should I play with today? There was a lovely mother and child that I might be some decent entertainment. Then there's those two brothers in the South and that ex-NSSF guy just to the East of them. So many choices and so much time. I'd like to see if NSSF ever tries to... apprehend my cleansing. I do leave notes, after all."

Edited by zakku_uchiha

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Raven exhaled softly as he finally felt the familiar sensation of serenity rush through his body. He silently moved through the massive crowd that flooded constantly through the busy underground street and followed it onward for a bit. Though he wouldn't admit it to every passerby, this was where he had grown up. Amidst this neverending mass of people.

Slowly, he reminescened about the past whilst subconciously walking on. This was the same street that he had been on when he first met his former gang. This... was also the same place where he had done his first 'mission'. Pain echoed out through his being as he mentally cursed at himself for his past mistakes. He wished to punish himself, but at the same time, he couldn't bring himself to. Something in him always made him move onward. Maybe it was the feeling of guilt and remorse that troubled him, or maybe it was the chance to still make up his faults by helping people.

He had a reason to live on. And now... it was even more important.

Rather suddenly, he snapped out of his thoughts and noticed a point of interest toward his right. Immediately, he sprang into action. Shoving rather roughly past a couple of the unknown denizens in his way, he ignored the strange looks sent his way and walked out of the ever-moving crowd. His path took him toward a seemingly random spot. One would argue it was something ordinary. For him, it was an entry to another part of this world.

Valerian walked forward and momentarily leaped off the sidewalk. Landing softly on the ground next to the walkway, he moved past a small, dirt-covered sign and walked through the small square. His hands went out of his pockets and pulled down the zipper on his coat.

Voices of many patrons filled his ears as he approached the small corner, filled with establishments. His eyes wandered through the signs as he came to a stop and looked at his surroundings. He was tired, he needed to get off the street, and he needed a drink. However, this was not his goal. At least... not the end of it.

He gathered his breath and started to move yet again. His legs pushed him forward as he ran through the open, flat area and approached a small shop. Immediately, he extended his hands forward. The low rooftop proved easy to climb as he caught on the edge, then momentarily scaled up its side, his trained legs and arms making easy work of the damaged facadé.

After pulling himself up and rising to his feet, Raven moved his hands to dust himself off. He lifted his gaze from his clothes once he was done, thne stopped for a second to admire the scenery. Humans on one side, moving monotonously down a seemingly endless highway... and an array of buildings, scattered all over the place and covered by a chaotic mix of lights on the other.

A small smirk spread along his lips as he resumed his movement. With a confident stride, he approached the edge of the rooftop. In front of him was a platform that linked a bunch of the nearby roofs together into a single, flat deck.

Coming to a halt less than a meter from the edge, Valerian smiled and then rushed forward. Nostalgia swept over him as he recalled how he once used these parts of the city to learn how to freerun.

The edge came just in time as he dug his feet into the ground, then pushed off. The muscles in his legs obeyed and sent him flying over the gap. As his body approached the other side, he dove forward and landed with a slight roll, in order to lessen the impact on his body.

He was getting close.

Sprinting quickly after rising up, he moved through. The world turned into a blur as he rushed onward even harder, the sound of metal echoing as he stepped on it repeatedly. Soon, it gave way to the softer clicking that was made by contact with concrete.

Though his vision was a mess, he still knew these streets perfectly. He ran down a lengthy alleyway and then slowed down. It only lasted a moment, however, as he approached a corner and pushed himself off the wall to his right with one leg to gain speed quicker.

Rushing down the narrow passageway, Raven watched the light in front of him grow brighter and brighter. Finally, after what seemed like eternity for his body, he burst out from a dark gap.

He came to a grinding halt as his feet dug into the dirt floor. Once he stopped properly, he bent his upper body downward and placed both hands on his knees. Ragged breaths filled the small, abandoned street with sounds as he struggled to calm his burning lungs and throbbing heart down. It seemed in vain at first, but slowly, he could feel himself improving.

A couple minutes passed by as the adrenaline in his bloodstream normalized and his vision regained its usual vibrance. He coughed a few times to clear his airways, then softly shook his head.

Ignoring the slight pounding that resulted from his strenous running, he pushed his body upward and finally stood upright. At least it was over now. His goal was here.

The scene in front of him was one that he had memorized to the smallest detail. This was a place he had frequented during his youth. He shut his eyes and softly inhaled the cold air. Though it was filled with whoever knew what... for him, it held a sweet aroma. His senses were filled with a scent - one that always gave him hope, even in the worst of situations - as he softly exhaled and allowed a silent smile to spread along his lips. This was his own haven.

His eyes wandered up, followed the long, metal pole next to the concrete building and reached the top. He gazed at the old, worn sign. Tubes of glass, filled with neon, went on and off at random intervals.

Long ago, back when all the letters worked properly, this place was called "Lone Warhawk's Café". However, most of the installation was already damaged, sabotaged or simply lost. The remaining lights on the sign seemed random, but every so often, they would shine in a proper sequence and reveal the current name of the place - "Leah's Café".

His gaze wandered back down and peered through the large windows of the small café, whilst he started to move toward the shop. It appeared mostly empty, save for a few 'shady' gentlemen that were sitting off in the far corner. Someone was serving them - or, at least, trying to, as that person was being a bit harassed by the men on the table.

Raven groaned softly and furrowed his eyebrows as he quickened his tempo. He wandered past the ancient robotic figure that would often greet the visitors, but was now a hunk of rust with barely any electronics inside.

He set a foot on the 'Welcome!' sign in front of the door, which, in turn, caused a small jingle to ring out through the room. The damaged servos on the entrance groaned as they slowly moved and allowed entry to the shop.

"...sure you don't wanna try prostitution, babe? You got a real nice rack on you!" A voice from inside echoed out as the man stepped through the door. He gritted his teeth in frustration, whilst his hand turned into a fist. He definitely wanted to avoid trouble after the raid that occured just a moment ago, but if they continued, he'd deal with them all the same. He moved with head bent down to one of the stools on the bar, then took a seat on it. No words came from him as the door behind him sealed itself. Slowly, he raised up his head to gaze at the table in the corner.

Sure enough, there were three idiots.

One of the punks was barely in his early 20's. He had a rather matching hairstyle - sides cut to the skin and the middle left absurdly long, then formed into a spiky mohawk with a sickly green color. He was wearing a tight white shirt under a biker's vest, along with dark jeans with chains. A single holster held a crazilly-colored gun within it. A typical thug, in Raven's eyes.

The second was... trying to be more normal, but kind of failing. He was probably around 23, and, at least, he was trying to match his matureness. The golden locks styled into a curtain-like shape and the stubble growing along his chin were befitting of an adult, yes, yet his clothing was not. It consisted of a gray tee, along with the trademark vest that all three wore, and a pair of stained, brown pants. The man had a rifle attached to his back, which had notches and cuts, but was otherwise in good shape. He was the most serious of the three, really.

The third... was borderline crazy. His age was probably 15, but he seemed the worst of them all. The boy's hair was a mess - caked in different colors that had been left to soak into his 'slim' afro, but not fully, it consisted of a rainbow-like top that faded into dark curls on the bottom. He was clothed in a white shirt that had splotches of paint on it, as well as dark green overalls that were slung over both his shoulders and bore many colors, just like the top. Thankfully, he was only armed with a small shank. Quietly, Valerian turned his gaze to the one serving them.

Fidgeting ever so nervously to the side of the table and across one of the young males was a young woman. She was a little shorter than Raven and had a slightly slimmer than average figure. The female was truly well-endowed and had an almost hourglass figure, save for her slightly wider-than-average waist. Her hair bore a vivid, dark red color that went to darker tones at some strands. It was slightly wavy and fell to her lower back, whilst the front was formed blunt, with the central part falling over her upper forehead with a convex shape and the sides flowing down her shoulders.

Her features could be only described as soft. With narrow eyes that were sometimes hidden by her hair, a slightly smaller nose, mostly full lips and a small square chin, she truly seemed alluring. She wore a simple outfit, consisting of a buff yellow shirt, dark, full lower-body stockings and a black, knee-length skirt, all covered by a white apron that fell a bit short of the bottom's end.

Oh for god's sake, just come over here and serve me... ignore those idiots... Raven thought to himself as he softly pressed on the bell left on the counter, then returned his arms to their original crossed position.

"O-oh! I'll... I'll just go serve the new customer and be right back." The young lady spoke to them, offered a soft smile and turned around momentarily, her visage filled with uncertainty and a hint of fear. Her red eyes came in contact with his azure ones, however, as she approached the counter and took her spot behind it.

"... Want me to take care of those three?" Valerian asked the woman softly. She nodded slowly to him as her hands worked to mix up the customer's usual choice of alcohol, then lifted the glass up and set it down a bit shakily on the counter. He huffed softly, took the shot and raised it up. Then, he placed the glass edge on his lips and drank up.

A stinging feeling echoed out, but soon subsided, as the alcohol was absorbed by his bloodstream. He let out a relieved sigh, placed the glass down and shook his head. Then, after a second, he pushed himself off and rose up.

"Alright, you three... shop's closing." Raven softly proclaimed as he placed his hands in his pockets and strode up to the table. The three on it slowly stopped their banter and turned to stare at him.

"What the hell do you mean 'shop's closing'?" The afro began as it rose up and placed a hand on the blade's holster. The man opposite of him immediately lifted his hand to stop him, then rose up himself to stare at the newcomer on an equal level.

"Listen. We just came here and we ordered some drinks." The mature one said, causing the man in front of him to narrow his eyes. Finally, the third person from the group rose up, as if in shock.

"What?! We ain't banging the chick?! censorkip.gif no!" He exclaimed loudly, then pushed the table over. It fell on the ground with a loud clatter.

"I don't care if some idiot with blue eyes comes up here and tells me to get out! Get out of the way, you-" The mohawk said as it approached the man and attempted to jab a finger into his chest. However, Raven caught his finger.

"You three better leave. Now. Before you anger... Nevermore." Valerian proclaimed, causing the trio to suddenly take a step back. The man that had approached him immediately dislodged his finger and literally took a seat again, out of sheer fear.

Silently, the three males walked past the man, their hands on their weapon's handles... and then proceeded to bolt out of the shop and into the streets outside.

"Finally..." Raven exclaimed as he bent down and lifted up the metallic table off the floor. He groaned softly as he let go of it and turned around to the counter. The woman behind it smiled softly as relief washed over her.

"I knew you'd be coming today, Val. Glad you were just on time, too," She said, then softly giggled, as if the threat moments later had never existed. The man in front of her only replied by sitting down and offering a small smirk.

"And you've always been the Lucky Leah, I'd say." He proclaimed after a couple of moments, earning a nod from the crimson beauty. Silently, she started to work on the man's usual round of shots, whilst he swung around on the stool and faced the dimly-illuminated streets outside.

A familiar tingle from his arm caught Raven's attention and made him stand up. He turned around, nodded softly at Leah and then momentarily walked out to the front of the shop.

He lifted his right arm to his face, then folded open the metallic guard. On the upper piece's inside was a peculiar screen. It was shining softly and covering his face in a blue light.

He was being called. At first, the number seemed unknown. However, upon closer inspection...

His finger moved to the screen and pulled the interactive symbol toward the right. The image turned red for a moment, indicating that the call had been terminated, and then returned to the usual, warm blue home screen.

Slowly, Raven opened a program from earlier. The system booted up after a second and the keyboard that covered his skin lit up, revealing the QWERTY design. In a minute, he typed out a small message, then linked it to his original caller. It wasn't really safe to call people, nor was it to respond like this... but a message to a number whose owner he already knew was no problem. Deciding to wait outside, the young man turned off the device on his right arm and then flipped the cover back down. Seconds later, he drew a small, curious pack from his pocket, along with a lone lighter.

His hand flipped open the metal top with a move from the thumb, whilst the other one drew out a lone cigar. He shut the cap with a twist of his hand and placed the whole pack back in his pocket.

Lighter in one hand and cigar being placed on his lips by the other, Raven lit the end of the small item. Clutching the small tube between his lips, he then inhaled deeply, feeling the flavor of the tobacco as it flooded into his lungs.

He softly removed the cigar from his lips as he coughed a couple of times, the sensation still foreign to his body. However, willingly, he lifted it back up and inhaled yet again.

This was a new habit, really.

Smoking killed, his friends would say.

What didn't really kill in this damn world anways?

Might as well pile on the poisons that shredded our body every day.


Yo, old Reld,


I'm at Leah's café. Can't wander about right now. Come meet me if it's urgent.



Edited by KuroKishi

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Reld waited a few minutes for a response while Garas sat in the corner, blanket pulled about him tightly. He was still shivering, but at least now he felt a bit more comfortable. He had never felt... cold before.

The Upper Classes had the best ventilation and heating that could be provided in the Arrow of Artemis. Of course, in eternal night, the city was always cold, sometimes even freezing where the electricity could not reach. As such, there were certain parts of the town in perpetual winter, the parts which couldn't afford traditional heating methods.

"What is happening here?" came a voice.

Garas looked up. Reld was still concerned with the communication he was attempting.

In front of Garas stood a young, beautiful woman, with a very odd addition - a pair of feline ears, and pupils to match. She was currently scrutinizing him thoroughly, standing at the entrance to the alley. A laptop was under one arm.

"I am confused." Garas commented, pulling the blanket even tighter about himself. "And this old man is assisting me."

"Is he?" the woman asked, stepping further into the alley. She knelt down next to him, placing a hand on his forehead before he could react.

"No fever." she said. "Your temperature is normal. You are shivering because of the cold, not sickness. I see."

"You are concerned?" Garas asked, cocking his head.

"Mainly because you are associated with Reld at the current moment. If you were not, I would have left you here." she whispered, standing back to her full height.

"What do you propose?" Garas questioned, looking up at her.

"Nothing. Reld will handle you. I must be off. I have things to take care of. I was making sure you did not wish Old Reld harm." she muttered, adjusting her laptop in her arm. "But you are dressed as an NSSF soldier. Are you one?"

"I was." Garas replied, slightly anxious.

"You will not make many ... friends down here wearing that form of attire. You should quickly change the way you look, especially if you wish to enter some of the more... high-class establishments in this area. There are people known to attack NSSF on sight." she recommended bluntly.

"Do you know of where I could procure new clothing?" Garas asked.

"Perhaps." Hallea said. "But as this does not pertain to me, I would rather not-"

"It does now!" Reld suddenly said, bursting between them. "Seems Raven's done gotten to yer cafe!"

"Your cafe?" Garas asked. Hallea seemed slightly annoyed.

"That means he is alone. With my sister." Hallea grimaced. "I must stop them before they begin to breed."

Garas looked absolutely befuddled now. She, however, turned on her heel quickly.

Reld laid a hand upon her shoulder.

"Can ye take this poor boy with ya?" Reld asked quietly.

"His presence would slow me down. And I will not be affiliated with an NSSF soldier. People would be less likely to procure my services." she frowned. "..And those of my sister."

"Boy, take off yer jacket and gloves. And yer mask. I'll keep them for ya." Reld commanded.

Garas obeyed, removing his wet clothing. Hallea turned away, displeased.

"Now I must carry around an exhibitionist. This day gets better and better."

Garas finally finished pulling off his jacket. The gloves came off easily. All that was left now were his pants and the pendant around his neck. Reld took the wet clothes and placed them in a corner of the alley carefully, laying the rifle on top of them.

"Keep the pistol. It don't look no different than anyone else's down here, and it'll give you more of a chance of being taken seriously, though I ask ya don't use it, okay?" Reld patted the boy's shoulder.

"Why are you going to such lengths to assist someone of the Higher Class?" Garas finally asked.

"Because we're all people, boy." Reld grinned. "'Sides, makes me feel good to help, ya know?"

"I thank you, immensely." Garas embraced the old man, though he knew not why. Reld seemed slightly surprised, but hugged him back. Hallea sighed.

"Are you finished? I wish to be as quick as possible." she said disdainfully.

"Oh. Of course." Garas said sheepishly. The two began to leave the alley, joining the crowd of the night.




They walked among the neon lights and running water of the downtown area of Winter.

Winter was a fairly large district. It wasn't named because it was cold, it was named because of the founder of the town - Aldred Winter. Of course, it was only a subset of Athena, and nothing more.

It was 85% lower class, 5% no class, and 10% higher class. As such, it had the highest numbers of lower class members among most districts. It wasn't even mentioned by Canadrey when he normally mentioned parts of Athena haphazardly in speeches, nor was it covered by news. To Athena's superiors, it didn't exist.

And the people preferred it that way.

A few people hawked their wares from open stalls as Garas cast his eyes upon all the people and locations they passed. Hallea, however, kept her gaze firmly forward.

"You act like a higher class member.." Garas commented after a moment, hoping to break the silence.

"Because I am one." Hallea said sternly.

"Then.. why are you here?"

"Why are YOU here?" Hallea replied. She kept walking, but it was obvious from her tone that she didn't enjoy being questioned.

"I.. don't know really."

"How do you know Raven, anyway? He does not affiliate with the NSSF, as far as I know." Hallea gave him a passing glance.

"...Long story." Garas held up a hand. "But I feel he knows something about my past, about why I cried."

"Why you... cried?" Hallea said, vexed. "You cried?"

"Yes. It has been happening ever since I left my home and joined the NSSF. When I look at this pendant. I see images. Memories. And then..." He frowned, forlorn. "Then I cry, it seems."

"Nostalgia, perhaps. Remove the pendant, if it causes that sort of problem." Hallea shrugged.

"I cannot. It is all that is truly mine." Garas said.

"Then how can Raven help you?" Hallea responded.

"Because.. Because he called me by name, and he seemed to know something about the pendant."

"Something you don't?"

"I don't know." Garas said, placing a hand on his head. "I just know he can. I feel it."

"Odd. Perhaps you are just mentally sick." Hallea smirked, her joke cold. "In any case, once we reach the cafe, I am no longer responsible for you - and if you wish to stay, I would prefer if you bought something."

"Understood... thank you." Garas said quietly. She gestured, pointing at a building in front of them. Sure enough, when it flickered, the neon sign above the door read "Leah's Cafe."

"Are you Leah?" Garas asked.

"Both my sister and I are Leah, though she prefers the nickname. I do not. If you call me it, I will assume you are hitting on me, and I may be enticed to punch you in your vitals."

"...As you.. say." Garas replied. Hallea headed inside and immediately began to search the room with her gaze. A few of the customers gave her a wide birth as her nails began to extend from her hand.

Her target spotted, she rushed towards Raven, her clawed hand bared and prodding his chest - probably painfully. She hissed.

"It is not my job to handle your loose ends, Raven." she seethed. "And if this was an attempt to pull me away while you violated my sister, I WILL end you. I told you that if you two have sex in this establishment, I will-"

Garas grabbed her shoulder calmly, hoping to ease the tension. She gave him a furious glance but then sighed.

"Fine." she sheathed her claws and wiped off her shirt, irritated. "I have work to do anyway. Fallea?"

"Yes, dear sister?" Fallea replied, arms crossed.

"Do I have any new requests?"

"Only the one, from Anolis again, about his ARM."

"I told him to stop pressing the keys so hard, time and time again!" Hallea sighed. "Just... just send him to my office in a moment... I do not need this today."

"Very well." Fallea said, laying a hand upon Raven's back and massaging it lightly. "And as for Raven?"

"Do as you like. Just do not do it here." Hallea commanded, walking off. Garas turned back to the pair, frowning.

"So... so.. uh..." Garas said, bowing formally to Raven. "Please... I followed you here... I left the NSSF... I came all this... all this way because.. I need to know what.. what you know about the pendant."

He continued to bow, hoping for a favorable response. As he bowed, he gave a quick glance to the room.

He noted that.. it was slightly empty. Was it closed for the day?

Edited by Thaelasan

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