[DeadPigeonGolem]

...
The guard, upon having the sexual morality of his mother questioned, snapped and threw a slopy haymaker towards Roland's head, which he easily dodged and countered, leaving the guard unconscious.

now to find the security center and get someone to destroy the tapes. oh, the joys of trolling.

Oooh! Another player to mess around with!

*phunt* *phunt* *phunt*

*sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeoooooooooooooooooooooooo.....*

Three mortars were now inbound on Roland's position. Hopefully, he'd get in the door before they impacted. Hehehe.

---

(( Incidentally:

((En route. I'll post... eventually.

He used white phosphorus mortars. They burn for about 60 seconds at more than 2000 K (which is higher than the melting point of steel), and it will naturally ignite every flammable object in the area. The burning particles can also embed themselves into flesh, where they will continue to burn, causing excruciating pain and sinking deeper into the victim's body. Water can only provide temporary relief, as the particles will spontaneously re-ignite the moment they dry. They must therefore be carefully picked out before re-ignition or doused with copper sulphate, which will prevent re-ignition. Worse yet, its smoke is highly toxic and can also injure or kill.
WP is generally used to clear rooms or trenches or other confined areas. He'd have to be crazy to use one outside, where the shifting winds might blow the resulting smoke back into your face. ))

Ezekiel is three kilometers away. Laser guided mortars with a 3,800-something meter range mean that I don't have to worry about that. ))

[blackshade10]

The hulking figure turned his head at the rather creepy shapeshifter. Staring for about half a second, a voice finally came from the opposing cyborg.

"This is my job. Leave, or die." He said simply leveling the giant machine gun he had with him on the opposing assassin. Without waiting for an answer, Smokescreen began to unleash hell, a stream of armor piercing bullets shredding anything that got between him and his target.

[Masked And Dangerous]

A tiny alert formed on the top corner of Morrigan's glasses. That meant that the police were en route, and that meant the window for getting clear would be short. "Shit." she said. This was supposed to be a hit and run, easy job. Kill the security, torture the target then place a bullet in his brain. Not hard at all right? No one told her that a bunch of fecking amateurs would start firing mortars and get the fecking garda on their trails from the get go.

Morrigan was slightly upset.

As she made her way up the stairwell, she listened as the shooting gradually stopped, and the screams started, then gradually stopped as well. "Don't tell me I missed all the action" she said, stopping on the floor below where her earstwhile partner was stationed in the parking garage. As luck would have it, this was when the man's security team was moving as quickly as possible towards the stairwell, attempting to keep their charge safe. "Target sited. How's the form, Smokescreen?" she asked over the hands free, watching through the door's tiny window as the security team approached. Moving away from the door, she opened her guitar case, and pulled out the old favorite, the Mossberg. Perfect for close quarters, and loaded with slugs to maximize damage versus armor. Time for a good old fashion stealthy ambush she thought as she moved to the next floor up, ready to take the group of guards through dynamic entry when they came through the door.

[Improbable odds]

It seemed that by the minute out intrepid group of anti-heroes drew ever closer to their goal, some however seemed to be doing such quicker than others. Notably it proved to be much quicker to avoid unnecessary firefights with either the local security force or your fellow contract killers and simply go for the target of their entire mission. That was precisely what Nathan was doing, albeit he was still a tad behind in terms of his own planned timeline.

"Oi Tom get it together lad. I still need tae git to the damned mark, hell I should have already started leaving by now. I swear I'll never drink again if it means I won't be late anymore." a lofty promise he had absolutely no intention to complete, but if nothing it it did server to focus him just a little bit more on the task at hand. For a man who was supposed to be disguised as a local worker Tom was strangely calm despite the very obvious attack that was current being launched against the parking garage he was currently standing in and the security forces who were doing a very poor job in keeping their area secure. However yet another guard seemed to take notice in Tom and his lovely red Craftsman toolbox, because he came sprinting up to him with a gun pointed right into Tom's gut.

"H-hold it! Where are you going and why are you here! This area is restricted to those with authorization only and right now any and all company personnel should have been evacuated. So talk, why are you still here!" the threat of a gun in his gut was enough for him to throw up his free hand into the air, though he never seemed to break his cool.

"Oh my, my apologies officer! I was jus' headin' for the stairs now, on me way out. I swears it on me mother's grave!" he gave his best honest smile along with a good whiff of his whiskey laden breath. The guard sighed, lowering his gun for just a moment as he spoke. A very, very poorly thought out move. "Listen here asshole I don't care about you or your moth-" he was cut short and promptly muffled when the wide of that toolbox came swinging around and hit him square in the side of his dome, sending him sprawling a couple of feet away into a heap. The blood leaking from his head indicated that there would probably be a nasty gash, but otherwise he would probably live if someone found him in time. Still the man would wake up with one hell of a headache, alongside missing his security badge and his weapon.

"Oh I always wanted one of these!" he said as he strode over to the small machine pistol that lay a couple of inches from the guard's now limp hands, kneeling down as he set his toolbox on the ground to make sure everything was fine. Wiping a bit of blood from one corner unto the sleeve on the guard's suit Tom made sure to unclip the badge from the man's breast pocket and attach it to his own. The pictures didn't match, but it would fool anyone at a distance. The weapon he had acquired was a compact little number mass produced by the Russians, great for hiding in a coat(or in this case a toolbox) back from the cold war. Nothing fancy, but great for the guy who liked to hide his weapon. It was a Scorpion machine pistol, and it would provide him a hell of a lot more firepower than what he had come with. Taking his new toy in hand Tom stood up, adjusted his collar and strode right easily up to the door leading to the stairs. He was on the ground floor and he would bet his bottom dollar his target was heading upwards, perhaps he had some sort of helicopter waiting? Tom didn't dwell on it to much as he readied his machine pistol and slowly opened the door, ducking inside to begin his ascent up the stairs. The poor bastard was going to get sandwiched between two very ill-intentioned assassins.

[Kithrune]

"FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-!!!!!!!!!!"

Roland saw the mortar as it flew towards him and quickly ducked behind the large doors at the back entrance, shielding him from the blast.

As he closed the door he herd another load clang and felt as one person's mind went blank and another felt a twinge of happiness, mixing with calm.

Calm?!

The pinprick of calm in a sea of mortal terror struck Roland as vulgar. The only people who would have the gull to be happy in this situation were psychopaths and trained killers, neither of which Roland cared about much. as he rushed forward to meet this calm and collected SOB he began to put some fear into him. teach him a lesion for being so disgustingly laid back.

((Tom is beginning to fell waves of fear))

[Eltharrion]

Mistblade quickly released the body carried in his hand, leaving it to be turned into swishcheese while falling down, and pulled his arm in front of him. Metal quickly bend, and he took off the few shots to his haste-made riot shield, combined with the wall's stopping power and not getting any real wounds. Luckily they made walls thicker than paper here.

"Oi, what gives? I got paid too for this, and no one likes those who turn to themselves and just walk away. We are carried by the same boat, on the river of fate that is. We might as well row to the same direction, to get there faster. I have my treasure chest at that dock, and so do you. I'm not going around to try get your share!"

Mist then simply made a move to the hallway where Smoke was, but before stepping out, Mist transformed his arm back to the normal metal implant arm in secret: there was no point revealing anything about this double-faced personality than was needed. Even the finger blades pulled bit in, seeming less intimidating while he pulled his arms up into a national "I come in peace" sing, arms on the sides of his head.

Though, at the same time he was modifying the inner layer of his skin to bulletproof material and increasing the muscle mass in his legs for faster dash movement. You never took chances in your life.

[blackshade10]

The weird guy got about half a second as he finished his little chat to realize that the giant cloaked figure didn't seem to care much for what he said. Highlighted by the 'dink' of a grenade ricocheting off the ground into his face. Followed by a spray of armor-piercing rounds. The giant figure unleashed at him, at the same if not faster pace than before.



((As a note, if he takes any of that, it's gonna tear through that bullet-proofing. Dive for cover bro!))

[Duke Nukem]

The only joy for Septre was in the pain of others. It killed for pleasure and without reason- save an undirected hatred for mankind. His form was grotesque: pale, fetal, with muscles that were barely more than threads. Only cybernetic attachments kept him alive, though perhaps death was preferable to the torment of his existence.

People argued about how many there had been, but everyone agreed that there had been at least four since last winter- five if you counted Ashley Tolle (many held the opinion that the little Tolle girl’s death must have been some kind of bizarre freak accident). The first everyone was sure of was Carlos Rupe, who had been found the day after in the area of turnpike construction on Peros Street. The boy, who was seventeen, had been found mutilated and buried into the muddy earth. The body of a friend he was with had been recovered from the docks twenty-five miles away, in Westgate. The fish had eaten this gentleman's eyes, three of his fingers, his penis, and most of his left foot. Clutched in what remained of his hands had been a Nissan steering wheel.

More often, the victims simply disappeared. They went to the subway tunnel, or the abandoned hospital, or the bridge drainpipe at the beach and never came back.

Septre had always been successful when killing children. The older ones could be used without knowing they had been used- altering the information they received, causing them to act as he wanted. He had even murdered the older ones over the years, but he preferred to draw the police to them, dazed and uncomprehending. Adults had their own terrors, and their glands could be tapped, opened so that all the chemicals of fear flooded the body and salted the meat. But they were cautious, discerning. Children were innocent and untainted- a child wants to hug everyone he meets. Their minds and emotions were very simple, and one could often be summoned up in a single phrase… and if bait were needed, what child did not love a robot?

---

A call came through to the SWAT antiterrorism unit at 11:35 pm. It was an emergency call from someone claiming to be security at the party of a corporate sponsor. The call was also directed towards news agencies, and a message bearing police encryption came to the office of the party itself, warning of impending attack and demanding the evacuation for everyone involved.

Down 4th avenue, the ground reverberated slightly. Pedestrians walking between nightclubs felt something that might have been an underground train. The steady vibration which had been running through the downtown streets grew to a passing hum that shook the earth.

[Eltharrion]

Zan was bit lucky, so to say. Though he had expected some sort of reply, the first bullet got him unprepared. By sheer luck, it only scraped his right arm, sending a drop of blood flying trough the air.
Shit, this dude got something heavier on him!
The next thing his reflexes did was to make frontal un-human speed dash to the figure's left side by accelerating to max speed on spot, avoiding bullets aimed at the location he was standing in by just half an inch. While running by, claws extended again in the left hand, and scraped heavily to Smoke's armor. Zan knew it wouldn't really deal any damage, but the impact was still heavy, maybe even dazzling the guy for a second.

Next he just dashed off to garage opening behind Smoke. He had already lost some precious time in his plan, so it was time to kick off next three steps.
Instead of going around the place, he simply smashed to the wall, nearly making it explode inwards, and landed to another large spaced room half a floor lower. There, he simply grabbed a pillar and tore a half-meter cube out of it before throwing it back to the crack he had made, sending debris flying over the place to Smoke and blocking the wall once more. He didn't even look down to a security person he had crushed under collapsing wall by accident.
He's not gonna get hurt with that. Well, gives me some time, at least. Now, to the step seven that is...

Zan was going through the memory of place's blueprint, original plan and radio frequencies target used. He got some good intel, and then dashed off to the next hallway, while pumping his systems and healing off the wound Smoke had shot into him.
Target was getting close, at least if their plan was to be believed.

[DeadPigeonGolem]

((IN the interests of rebooting what I thought was an incredibly entertaining role play))

In the distance, a dull roar, then suddenly a limo blasting through the barriers at maximum velocity. Its tires squealed as it turned the corners of the parking garage, shooting for the ground floor and the exit. With a crash, it blew through the security barriers and roared east ward, skidding around the fireball in the street.

As often happened in situations such as these, all plans had just been shot to hell. The target had reacted with unusual swiftness and was escaping!!


....or was it? The target had numerous clones, after all.


((Choices:

A) Pursue van, the target probably doesn't have any clones ready to deploy yet.
B ) Stay and search the building. That limo came out way to quickly to be legitimate, it must be a decoy.))

((Seriously though, sorry for taking over (if only for one post), but this had great potential and I thought that giving a bit of a choice would help necro the thread.))