Ex Heroes [IC Thread]
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Extreme =&gt; Extreme Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: MzHyde on 27-07-2012, 01:03:44</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Ex Heroes [IC Thread]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MzHyde</strong> on <strong>27-07-2012, 01:03:44</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://i48.tinypic.com/16jnas7.png)</div><div align="center"><strong>IC Thread</strong></div><br><strong>October 20th, 2013<br>The Tombs</strong><br><br><em>Six months ago something happened at Yankee Stadium. Someone in the stands bit another person. The attacker was described as being disoriented, glassy-eyed, and cold to the touch. Within ten minutes his victim passed out. In the stadium's infirmary about fifteen minutes later, he died. Five minutes after that, he awoke. He attacked his nurse. The cycle began there. Like dominoes, we all fell, one by one. We hardly knew what hit us. The illness was so fast and so easily transmitted we could hardly defend ourselves against it. In the mad rush to escape the city during the panic that followed, all roads became choked with traffic and impassable. Civilians and authority figures alike retreated inward for safety, huddling in homes. That's when the criminals and looters rose up, robbing and killing. <br><br>That was another turning point.<br><br>It was when we found out that you didn't even need to be bitten. Moments after death - ANY death - you would rise again with an all consuming hunger for the living. The military showed up, of course. They sported high-tech land warrior systems, rode in tanks and flew helicopters. Shock and awe. Sad that zombies can't be shocked OR awed. The Battle of Yonkers was lost as waves of zombies continued to march forward, despite having holes blown in their torsos or their limbs removed. The army pulled out, leaving many of it's men stranded. <br><br>The hordes were endless and determined. They could not be swayed, feared, reasoned with, or persuaded. Earth's mightiest heroes were even falling by scores. Owl Girl, MechaniCal, Keepsie, The Mighty Brick, Dr. Quark, countless others devoured by the shambling undead. Even some so-called villains tried to fight away the undead with no luck. Now only a few of them remain in the city, fighting to protect the remaining survivors. <br><br>We don't know what's happened to the rest of the country, as communication is scarce. Just about everyone has gone dark, humanity crawling back into the shadows, re-learning old survival instincts, fighting to stay alive. We've been here in The Tombs for about four months now. It was hard to secure this building, but it's like a fortress inside. It gives us the protection we need and with the heroes to help us, we can keep this place up and running. Zombies constantly pound at the doors on the lower floors, so we've abandoned them in favor of living on the upper floors, lest the constant noise drive us crazy. Thankfully, us civvies can still get out via the parking garage and the neighboring building. It's amazing, but life has almost become routine here. There are almost a hundred of us here, not including the capes. We work, we keep this place running, we live day by day. The heroes spend their days trying to put a dent in the seemingly endless zombie horde, searching for more survivors, and scavenging for supplies. In exchange for their protection, we do all the work in keeping the building running. <br><br>Some people hate this arrangement and long for the outside, or just the freedom to not work their hands to the bone every day, but we have to do what we can to survive. I can only hope that the peace here holds. I'd say 'God help us all', but I don't think any just God would let this happen to so many good people. We can only help ourselves now. What little of us that are left, anyway. <br><br>I miss you more every day, Jessica.<br><br>-From The Desk of Detective Mona Temple, NYPD-</em>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Ex Heroes [IC Thread]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Primarch</strong> on <strong>27-07-2012, 04:22:15</strong>
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				<strong>October 20th, 2013<br>The Tombs<br>Saint Claude</strong><br><br>Saint Claude was something of a lone wolf within the Tombs. It was perhaps understandable, six months ago he was an assassin for hire. A killer of Superheroes. He'd put a bullet in your head for a price and if you were faster then a speeding bullet then he'd get creative. He always had been creative. His art teacher said so. Either way, he didn't encourage people reaching out to him. He had a knack for weapons so once he had joined up with survivors he had become something of a quartermaster of arms. Needed a rifle cleaned out? He could do that. Needed your sword sharped? He could do that. Course when you were light on your feet and an expert at getting in and out of a place without notice, you became handy at scavenging runs. So Saint Claude had made himself useful. Useful enough that the heroes didn't jump him and toss him in a cell at least. So he sat at a table in his own little corner, in own private spot. Making sure guns were good to go at a moment's notice. It was therapeutic. Some people liked yoga. The Saint had his thing. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Ex Heroes [IC Thread]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Mossberg</strong> on <strong>27-07-2012, 04:48:11</strong>
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				&nbsp; &nbsp; Rand stood on the roof of the Tombs and looked out over the city. It seemed like the zombies had been loose for years instead of merely months. Looking down to the ground over the edge of the roof he watched the mindless corpses batter at the doors and windows. If he thought it would do any good he would kill some of them. There were hundreds if not thousands of those things in this neighborhood alone though. Shaking his head he walked over to a little target he had set up. The target was a small wooden box stuffed to capacity with old clothes that had too many holes to even be rags. Checking it once more to make sure the clothing was very tightly packed in it he nodded once to himself and turned away, walking twenty feet and turning back to face the target. Taking a folding knife (http://www.houseofrage.com/knives/Gunsite.jpg) from his left hip pocket he flicked it open and held up his right palm. There were many scars across the palm as well as one around his wrist and some on his forearm. Using the knife in his left hand he stuck the point into his right palm, pressing until his blood started to pool around the blade. The cut didn't really hurt, not anymore. Rand had done this many times by now. He wouldn't have been able to keep track if he had wanted to. Pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket he wiped the knife blade and put it and the cloth back in his pocket. Rand activated his power of hemokinesis and blood started coming from the hole in his palm rising and forming into a sphere about 2 inches in diameter. Once the sphere was formed he compressed it until it was half the size. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; Raising his right arm and pointing his palm at the target Rand launched the Blood Bullet at the target. The ball of compressed blood flew to the target in a flash. When the bullet hit the target it smashed through the wood side, spraying splinters, and continued through the clothes and out the other side where it continued for a little more distance before smacking into a metal heat vent and splattering all over it. That was one of the reasons he practiced on the roof, the blood could be washed away by any rain. He preferred to not think of the disgusted looks he had gotten the one time he had tried doing it inside. Some of his allies, hero and civilian both, thought his power was unsavory at best. Dismissing the thoughts from his head Rand walked over to the box and inspected it. Bending down some he could see clearly through the box and clothing. He checked the other side to see if the clothes were pushed out or what. Seeing nothing but some splinters standing out he smiled. He had finally been able to compress the ball the right amount to have twice the penetrating power than he had had before. Rand chuckled when he thought of what he could do with a bigger bullet. He didn't need to look at his palm to watch as he used his power to pull the blood that had oozed out onto his palm back into his hand and send platelets to the hole so it would scab over quickly. Grabbing his canteen of water from the table next to the box he unscrewed the cap and took a drink. It was important for him to stay hydrated. He learned that the hard way one day. That day his blood had thickened. When he went to use it he had a hard time controlling it for some reason. Since then he had been sure to drink about a gallon per day. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; Satisfied with the results and not wanting to waste too much blood in case something happened today Rand headed to the roof access door. Holding the door he used his foot to push a cinder block out of the way. Going through the door he started walking down the stairs as the door banged shut behind him. Going down a couple flights he exited the stairwell on the floor with his room. Turning down the hall he walked at a steady pace until he came to his room. It was an old office or something. All Rand knew was it had four walls and a roof. Opening the door with his key he went in and left the door open about a foot, hoping he could get a breeze through his open windows. Inside there was a bare mattress in the corner, a chair by the window, a trunk with his clothes and possessions, and a box of books neat the chair. Sitting in the chair he picked up the book he had been reading and opened it to the page with his bookmark. Rand kicked his heels up on the windowsill and started reading. While in prison he had developed a taste for solitude and reading.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Ex Heroes [IC Thread]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AndyZ</strong> on <strong>27-07-2012, 19:02:15</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://img40.imageshack.us/img40/8152/v309619combolasplit1.jpg)</div><br>Far above the city, Vanessa floated cautiously, looking out over the streets and checking locations.&nbsp; It wasn't a glamorous job, but she wasn't overly interested in glory and valor.&nbsp; Far too many people had died already, and it wasn't as though mowing down zombies would stop the onslaught.<br><br>"East Fifth Street," she radioed back to HQ.&nbsp; "The bookstore looks to be mostly untouched.&nbsp; It probably got ignored during the initial rush and just nobody's been here in the interim.&nbsp; The corner deli looks to have been completely ransacked; even the windows are broken.&nbsp; Boards cover up everything in the jewelry store, so somebody might be trying to wait it out, or already failed in that attempt."&nbsp; She had to stop thinking in terms of why someone would do something; it was getting way too depressing.<br><br>All the flying was making her head start to spin.&nbsp; "I'm coming back.&nbsp; It's starting to get a little hard to think straight.&nbsp; Anything you want me to check on the way back, or anything like that?"<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Ex Heroes [IC Thread]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MzHyde</strong> on <strong>27-07-2012, 20:21:21</strong>
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				<strong>Oct. 20th, 2013</strong><br><strong>Lina Lyons, aka HercuLina</strong><br><strong>The Tombs, Roof</strong><br><br>Lina was standing on the corner of the rooftop, her cape fluttering a little in the breeze. She wasn't far from where Bloodthorn was practicing his... powers. Eew. The man's abilities disturbed her, but she understood that not everyone got to pick and choose. Hell, most heroes didn't. At least he wasn't Dough Boy (power; being fat) or The Waitress (power; able to throw serving trays with a hundred percent accuracy). In any case, she wasn't worried about Bloodthorn right now. She was keeping contact with the heroes out on patrol and Vanessa was the last one to come back. Lina was always concerned about Vanessa, the two of them rather new to this whole hero thing. Vanessas power, however, was still largely untapped and much more complex than her own 'punch stuff and go fast' suite of abilities. At the radio call, she responded, "No, come on back. Don't push yourself too hard yet, we don't want you dropping out of the sky into a crowd of Exes. Thanks for the report, I'll have them update our city map and we can send a team to the jewelry store later to check it out. Thanks, Vanessa."<br><br><strong>Mona Temple, Human Representative</strong><br><strong>The Tombs, St. Claude's Room</strong><br><br>Mona Temple wasn't new to The Tombs. She'd been one of the first there, in fact. The Detective had led a group of survivors and police officers there during the initial outbreak. It had been one of the only fortified places remaining that they could get to. With some luck they'd managed to secure it, but only the arrival of the heroes had kept it from falling. The two groups had worked together to make the building into the fortress that it was today. It ran, more or less, like a well oiled machine. Everyone had a task to do. There was rarely time off, but that was the kind of life that had to be led during the so-called zombie apocalypse. When you fought day by day for survival, it left very little time for soap operas and games of hopscotch. Mona herself was a tough, no-nonsense kind of woman. She'd been just about everything in her long and storied life; a loving daughter, a sister, an orphan, a gang member, a mercenary, a police detective, and now, a survivor. She'd picked up her fair share of scars in that time, most noticably, the gunshot that almost killed her. The Detective had made some powerful enemies during her mercenary days and those enemies happened to be the leaders of some of the city's major crime organizations. They'd kidnapped her sister, lured her to the docks, and shot the little girl right in front of Mona. <br><br>Then, they tried to kill her. Tried was the operative word. The bullet passed right through her left eye and, somehow, she survived. The eye patch she wore was a testament to the fact that, if you were going to try to kill this woman, you'd better do it right the first time. She tried to make amends for the grave mistakes in her past, move on with her life. It's why she joined up with the NYPD when they extended the offer. It's also why she tried to protect as many people as she could. She'd never let what happened to Jessica happen to anyone else every again, if she could help it. <br><br>Dressed in her usual slacks, vest, white dress shirt, and tie, she headed down the hall to St. Claude's room. The Detective stepped into the doorway and rapped on it with her knuckles to get his attention. Sometimes it could be hard to break him out of his trance when he was working like that. "Do you have my weapons ready yet? The first model CZ 75 with a walnut grip and the Colt 1908 with the trigger guard removed." <br><br>If Mona had a super power, it would be those guns. While not as supernaturally accurate as St. Claude, Mona was a hell of a shot and she picked her weapons carefully. The CZ 75 was accurate and made out of high quality steel, the custom walnut grip making it even better. The Colt 1908 was the kicker, though. She used it as a backup weapon and kept the tiny pistol hidden under her sleeve, strapped to a spring loaded device that could slide the weapon into the palm of her hand with a flick of her wrist. The trigger guard had been cut away to make shooting even faster. The perfect surprise for an emergency. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Ex Heroes [IC Thread]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Primarch</strong> on <strong>27-07-2012, 20:46:01</strong>
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				<strong>The Tombs, Saint Claude</strong><br><br>"Come in." called Claude as he heard someone knocking on his door. The walls of the room were lined with weapons, most were for general use of the people given permission to use guns in the day to day duties of survival, some were weapons that belonged to particular people. Weapons he was repairing or fixing or doing some kind of modification or maintenance. The Saint had plenty of his own weapons, he had a generous collection of weapons before the outbreak, after the outbreak he had his choice of Police Stations and Military units to plunder. Two dozen automatic rifles and ammo to match were good "let me join" presents, that ammo had ran out quickly enough, before some people realized just what rationed supplies really meant. <br><br>Saint Claude was adorned in a black armoured bodyglove. He had a facemask but he wasn't wearing it, no need. The digital age was over, there was no record of who he was or who he used to be. His life was his and his alone, he was just Saint Claude now. He had been sitting at a table in the very center of the room and swiveled around in his chair once he heard the door opening. When she stepped in Saint Claude nodded his head towards a workstation on the left side of the room. "Ready for collection." he replied, the suit didn't have any outwardly visible electric components but his voice an electric twang to it. Mona Temple had seen the wars, she had the battlescars. The Saint could respect that, respect her. He eventually rose from his seated position, the man was a walking armoury. Even in the safety of the base. He had a pair of pistols strapped under his arms, his hips and a smaller pair on his legs. Nevermind the knives and other tid-bits. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Ex Heroes [IC Thread]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AndyZ</strong> on <strong>27-07-2012, 21:04:01</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://img40.imageshack.us/img40/8152/v309619combolasplit1.jpg)</div><br>Day after day after day, it was starting to get more and more difficult to understand how she was going to keep it together.&nbsp; She used to wonder why people said that the dead were the lucky ones, and while she certainly didn't want to be dead, there was a small part of her that envied the possibility of simply resting forever and not having to wake up.<br><br>Of course, the flip side to that was the possibility of dreams.&nbsp; Vanessa hated her dreams, because they were never good anymore.&nbsp; If she overexerted herself, though, her brain just seemed to shut down and she didn't have to worry about nightmares.<br><br>She fluttered down onto the roof, landing gently and rubbing her temples.&nbsp; Her bed was far too far away for her to try to walk all the way there, and her brain felt too overworked for her to possibly fly there.&nbsp; Nobody would mind if she just laid down for a bit, maybe for five minutes, to rest up before the walk to her bed...
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				Title: <strong>Re: Ex Heroes [IC Thread]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Geeklet</strong> on <strong>28-07-2012, 14:50:42</strong>
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				Jinx had managed to secure herself a small little room of her own, away from the main living areas, to use as her own personal little workshop. As of right now, it seemed as though everything was in working order, and the girl had managed to secure some down time, so she was in there, working on a pet project of hers. The door was shut, but if one were to walk down the hall, they'd see lights flickering inside, and maybe a spark or two shoot out the bottom. The light show stopped, there was a pause, and all of a sudden... <strong>"DAMMITALL!"</strong><br><br>She was close, but she couldn't get things working quite yet. Perhaps a break was all she needed. She stepped out of the room in a white tanktop and some coveralls that were rolled down to her waist and tied off there, her clothes and body still smudged with grease. She began to walk down the halls, unsure at first as to where exactly she was going. Maybe the roof to get some fresh air. Maybe that was all she needed.
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