Heavy Metal Inc. - [Game Thread]
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Extreme =&gt; Extreme Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: MzHyde on 12-07-2013, 07:35:02</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Heavy Metal Inc. - [Game Thread]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MzHyde</strong> on <strong>12-07-2013, 07:35:02</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://i1264.photobucket.com/albums/jj499/MzHyde/HeavyMetalLogo_zpsf2863b60.jpg)</div><br>At the expected time, all the mercenaries had gathered at the coordinates and, as expected, they were picked up. The Bon Scott screamed in overhead and lowered it's rear ramp to allow the newbies to board. Once they were all on, the ship took off again. A series of running lights led the way for the new crew, showing them the way up to the upper deck and from there, into the meeting room. The ship seemed abandoned, devoid of personell. Save for the screaming rock music playing over the speakers, it would be akin to moving around in a ghost ship. Once they were in the meeting room, however, things changed. The doors whooshed shut behind the newbies, leaving them in the small, round room with THE Briar bloodthorn, the Queen of Carnage herself. She'd made quite a name for herself on behalf of Heavy Metal Industries, doing a hell of a lot of work in an impossible amount of time. HMI had closed so many contracts in the past few months they were now in direct competitions with the top merc guilds in the Hagar System. It was obvious that Briar knew it. She had on a shit-eating-grin. She stood there, arms folded, standing before a display screen showing nothing but static. <br><br>"Evenin', skags! Welcome aboard the Bon Scott! Dio willing, it's gonna be your new home! Of course, before we get to any fillin' out yer fuckin' W2's or any of that shit, we gotta little test for ya. Think of it as yer interview. Only with blood. An' fuckin, violence, or whatever."<br><br>The redhead jerked her thumb at the screen behind her.<br><br>"Take it away, boss." From behind her, the static-filled screen cleared a little. Just a little. A vaguely human shape appeared and the room filled with the voice of HMI's mysterious benefactor. The voice was gender-neutral, almost robotic. It was clearly someone trying to disguise their voice, species, and gender. Briar didn't seem to give a shit. <em>"Thank you. Welcome to Heavy Metal Industries, all of you. As Briar said, we will be conducting a sort of interview. Come back alive, and you're in. Die, and we will mail your remains to your next of kin."</em> Not express, though. Fuck that. Standard shipping only. <em>"We have an open contract and your completion of it nets you employment with HMI, plus a portion of the reward we were promised. You'll find that working with us will make you quite wealthy indeed. Allow us to explain the contract."</em><br><br>The screen changed, turning from static to an image of some unremarkable city. From there it zoomed in on an area just to the north of the city, away from the hustle and bustle and into a more remote, wooded area. It focused on a set of buildings. The view was top-down, so it was hard to judge what was going on, but by all the police vehicles out front and one entire building in flames, it probably wasn't good. That, or a bitchin' party was going on.<br><br><em>"Morning Wood School for Girls has been under siege from the infected for three days. Ninety percent of it's student body and staff have become infected with Kellis-Amberlee, or 'KA', as it's known."</em> said Leader.<br><br>"Zombies. They're fuckin' zombies," quipped Briar.<br><br>Leader cleared it's throat, <em>"Quite. Yes, Kellis-Amberlee, named as such for the scientist who inadvertently invented the, ahem, 'zombie' virus while searching for a cure for the common cold and patient zero, respectively, turns it's victims into something akin to the undead. Their brains swell, they have high fevers, become immune to pain or fear, and are filled with homicidal rage. They are nothing more than snarling, clawing animals. The virus transmits itself through contact with bodily fluids; blood, saliva, etc. So the hosts claw and bite at anything they come into contact with in order to spread the virus. Local police forces have always had trouble containing it; that's why Iowa ceased to exist in 2015."</em><br><br>Briar snorted, "And nothing of value was lost."<br><br><em>"The person responsible is this man,"</em> said Leader, the screen changing to display a handsome fellow with thick, wavy dark hair - just a touch of grey at the temples, <em>"Briar, if you would?"</em><br><br>Bloodthorn sighed and rolled her eyes a little bit. She waved her hand at the screen, "Right, right. This is 'Handsome' Hal Hardlight, former leader of The Hardlight Riders, one of the worst piece of shit raider guilds in the system. I say 'former'" she even did the finger quotes here, "because.." <br><br>The screen changed, showing the same man. Ish. Kind of. The person the group was now looking at was horribly scarred. It looked like someone had given him a Glasgow smile to the extreme, leaving scarring going from the corners of his lips to his ears in a Cheshire grin. The rest of his face showed patches of rot and half his luxuriant hair had been shaved off to make way for large, obviously surgical, scars and, of all things, a bolt. Sticking out of the side of his head. He looked like Frankenstein fucked an ugly hobo in a dark alley. He looked like a dried out turd on a bad stretch of road. He was ugly, is the point we are driving home, here. The mad grin and twitchy look on his face showed that, yes, he was upset about this development. <br><br>"...I took a chainsword to his head about a week or two ago. At the time I was preeeeeeeetty sure he didn't survive it. Y'know. Top of his fuckin' head off an' all that. Shit USUALLY kills someone. Guy was an arrogant asshole who thought he and his gang were tough shit. Apparently, however, his gang members fuckin' <strong>LOOOOOOOOOVED</strong> the guy. So, some of his smarter cronies used science, some stolen KA, and a roll of duct tape, I'm guessing, to bring the fucker back to life. He ate their faces." The screen switched again, to still shots of Hardlight attacking his own gang members and, yes, eating their faces. <strong>JUST</strong> the faces, though, which strikes as fairly odd. "Eventually, and we're still not sure why, he made his way to Morning Wood and started spreading the fuckin' virus around. Apparently Hal, though undead, retains brains enough to do more than slobber, scream, and bite - though he's sure to do plenty of all that."<br><br><em>"Quite,"</em> Leader broke in, <em>"Your task will be to clear the grounds and take out Hardlight. We're sure there's some reason why he's doing this but, to be quite frank, we do not care. The contract says to clear the grounds, not interview the man. Complete the mission as you like. Questions?"</em><br><br><strong>Vixen Vickers</strong><br>You actually know Handsome Hal. You slept with him. Of course. He's not quite so handsome now, but you certainly know why his crew loves him so much. He's actually rather charming, despite being a blood-thirsty former gang leader turned zombie. Or at least he WAS charming. Dio knows what he's like now. Probably insane with rage. That's a good bet. <br><br><strong>James Morgan</strong><br>You recognize Briar Bloodthorn. You've heard her name before, obviously, but until now you've never actually seen the woman. You recognize her from Tranellore. She was with the rebel group that day of the ambush. She was leading a portion of the rebel forces that slaughtered some of your crew. You were both there for the money, obviously, but still. She done fucked up your bros. You saw her chainsword a guy you had beers with once. Then she used him as a human shield before throwing his corpse at another one of your friends and kill him, too. Granted, those two guys stiffed you for their part of the beer tab and they were kind of dicks, but still.<br><br><strong>Artorias</strong><br>You've basically been held prisoner on this ship for the last three days, ever since it picked you up. Sure, you've been fed, tended to medically, and you haven't been tortured (unless you consider the blaring rock music to be torture), but you HAVE been confined to your room. You had no idea what was going to happen until you were led, with the others, into the conference room. Part of you understands that they can't just let some stranger wander around the ship unattended, but on the other hand, it sucks being held captive. Sorta. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Heavy Metal Inc. - [Game Thread]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PhantomPistoleer</strong> on <strong>13-07-2013, 07:02:40</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://25.media.tumblr.com/3f7ac0355e6a7d875975b6bc89be65f7/tumblr_mkqxnaGpbS1rly7h0o1_500.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Vixen Vickers<br><strong>Age:</strong> 32<br><strong>Race:</strong> Human, Female<br><strong>Hair:</strong> Raven<br><strong>Eyes:</strong> Blue<br><strong>Height:</strong> 5'7"<br><strong>Weight:</strong> 110 lbs.<br><strong>Sexual Preference:</strong> Bisexual, Borderline Nymphomaniac<br><br><em>Oh, Handsome Hal.</em>&nbsp; She thought as she watched him eat Bill's face.&nbsp; <em>Oh, Bill.</em>&nbsp; And then Larry.&nbsp; <em>And Larry, too?</em>&nbsp; Then, Handsome Hal jumped at some guy whose name she didn't quite recall, but she remembered him.&nbsp; She never forgot the face of a man that spewed a hot stream of semen across her face -- unless of course the dickhead intentionally shot her in the eye.&nbsp; But she wasn't very good with names.&nbsp; Still, <em>...&nbsp; Too bad what's his face got it.&nbsp; I liked him.</em>&nbsp; But she sort of lost interest halfway through, and glanced down to readjust her large, taut tits in her leather corset.&nbsp; Appearance was of the utmost importance, after all.<br><br>She had considered what to wear for the longest time earlier in the day, but she settled in on her usual combat attire:&nbsp; a black leather catsuit with thigh high, high-heeled boots.&nbsp; She wore black leather gloves, too -- she didn't like to gloat, but she really had the gloved hand job mastered.&nbsp; It was the only reason she wore them, really.&nbsp; The catsuit was something she could easily get out of if needed.&nbsp; And given her inclinations, she always needed to get out of it.&nbsp; And fast.&nbsp; One hooped zipper dangled from her throat, and with one smooth motion, she could be exposed to all manner of ingress!&nbsp; She had already done it with two men at the same time on the way to the meetup.&nbsp; It had been a little messy, but nothing a quick scan with a compact couldn't fix.&nbsp; Still, she had missed a spot -- but thankfully, one of the crew members communicated to her with gestures that she had ejaculate on her chin.&nbsp; She smiled lingeringly at him as she wiped it off, and then blew him a kiss.<br><br>As she walked down the corridor alongside the other newbies, she continually glanced askance -- no man or woman being passed up to this sexual predator.&nbsp; Everyone had something about them that she could give them a good screw over.&nbsp; Her svelte figure squeaked in its leather shell, her musculature gleaming in the pallid light.&nbsp; Her heels stomped against the surface of the steel hallway, her determined gait only alluding to her sexual appetite.&nbsp; Her breasts jiggled, her hair bounced, her large, round butt swayed lovingly back and forth as she winked at passersby.<br><br>When confronted with the large, tanned, big-breasted figure that belonged to the Queen of Carnage herself, Vixen could feel her wetness seeping all the way to her ankles.&nbsp; She was immediately attracted to the woman's power.&nbsp; Equations that took economists hours to develop appeared instantly before Vixen, and she estimated Briar's wealth to be astronomical.&nbsp; This, of course, further increased her attraction.&nbsp; She was becoming a little wobbly -- so she slowly sat down and folded her legs, one over the other, as she allowed her hair to swing behind her shoulder.&nbsp; She fixed her glasses, and leaned back to listen.&nbsp; The men beside her were no slouches, either!&nbsp; She could have just reached over and grabbed them by the crotch.&nbsp; The meeting was an ordeal in sexual restraint, which was ready to burst as she was reminded of the hot nights she served as Handsome Hal's slut.<br><br>&nbsp;"The remaining 10% of the school..." &nbsp;she said slowly, &nbsp;"How expendable are they?"<br><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Heavy Metal Inc. - [Game Thread]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>LeSane</strong> on <strong>13-07-2013, 09:39:28</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/5k3W1xJ.jpg?1)</div>He'd felt as if the second options would of been the best. The empty void of space seemed less tortuous than the blaring heavy metal which for them was <em>'music'</em> Artorias bared to listen such for the past three days due to solitary confinement. For fuck sake! Did they not know how hard it was to sleep when all one could hear was the banshee like sounds of the instruments?&nbsp; There had been moments where he had decided to paint the walls with his very own blood via bashing his head against the wall just for it to stop. Yes... space would've been a godsend if he believed in such a falsehood. At least he had been offered meals. If he could eat that would've been a plus. The only thing that drove him was the idea of revenge for the wrongdoing that had befallen him. For that he would endure this hell and any other.<br><br>The Cyborg was the second of the three to enter, but the only one physically escorted so he could not wander the confines of the ship. Quite understandable no one would want someone like him skulking around unattended learning the layout of a ship as complex as this. He saw the woman for the second time he recognized her Briar Bloodthorn she had been the conversation starter of more than a solemn; more importantly this bitch had been the reason why his former comrades wanted to join Iron Wolf they had suffered with her success being rampant. However she would not know of them. Los Lobo use to be silent and secretive, yet looking up their names you could find some less than flattering track record, a bounty or two given the system. As Briar talked Artorias listened to her introduction for them he felt compelled for some unknown reason. Maybe he was catching the case of the fanboy fever or it was from the medication given to numb the pain from the wounds. He hoped for the second.<br><br>The briefing continued and he did not even bat an eye as he watched the gruesome images of this undead man eat his <em>'friends'</em> faces,"Seems you botched up and this is the result huh? Even the great Queen of Carnage makes mistakes. Thats a fuckin riot." talking for after being silent for his entire three days giving way to a dirty scottish accent. It echoed in a low static way which seemed eerie. So many things had happened that if she wanted to beat his ass then so be it she could fucking try all she pleased. "What would people think if they knew I wonder?" his sarcasm showing through. The leader of HMI had given them a mission that was basically a clean up job. Give everything that looked apart of the job the finger, kill it viciously, never look back on it, and repeat the process. When they were asked if they had any questions the raven haired woman beat him to the punch asking how expendable the last remaining none undead were. The first impression seemed well off now that she threw that upon the table for all to see. She was willing to sacrifice the weak and helpless for their own gain. Had to hand it to the woman some credit he labeled her nothing more then some gun toting bitch that fucked whatever and whenever she pleased. Now she was still that, but you could throw cold hearted tag somewhere in that. Eh.... it was something.<br><br>When it was his turn as he asked one that he alone wanted to know,"When this is over I need info on a few people. Eight to be exact. Can you do that for me?" placing a hand on the side of his helm that had the number nine on it with a large gash mark from what seemed to be a sword cutting deep into the armor, but not enough to harm him. It showed more than Artorias would let on,"If you can promise me that then I'll kill whatever you throw in front of me." an aura of killing intent filled the room showing the determination behind his words. It stifled the air making it heavy only for it to subde, yet it lingered once it he calmed down.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Heavy Metal Inc. - [Game Thread]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>IrishWolf</strong> on <strong>13-07-2013, 15:38:10</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://i142.photobucket.com/albums/r94/anIrishlad/Sky_side_concept_bounty_hunter_by_Darcad_zpsd8d5b8f6.jpg)</div>The third to enter the briefing room, was James Morgan. His foot steps were light, those of man used to moving in such a manner, so not to give his position away. He had followed some buxom, blackhaired woman, in what he cold only describe as a leather fetish outfit, aboard and had kept behind her as they walked along the running lights. A small smile was on his lips, as he watched a very delightful ass sway side to side, even after they were joined by a second man? He wasn't so sure of their new companion's sex, given their appearance. Anything could have been under that armor but the sense of smell of his pet, being transmitted into his brain, was sure they picked up male human mingled with machinery. <br><br>He had come aboard like a vagabond, if a well armed one. Slung over his right shoulder was his Galactic Arms Mk IV Battle Rifle and over his left was a large pack, rather like a seabag, filled with all the odds and ends one might pick up in life. An old uniform, spare cloths, tool kit for his weapons, souvenirs, a shinny rock he had liked as a child and sitting on top of that, a score of magazines. He wore some of his better cloths, green shirt, black pants, combat boots, fingerless gloves and a reinforced vest, pouches bulging with more ammo. At his side of course, was a creature of scientific meddling. Silent and deadly, it stalked besides the man with a cat-like grace. Its eyes watched everywhere, making sure that he wasn't caught unaware, as he ogled. <br><br>That smiled vanished right off his face, however, when they reached the briefing room. Looking up from the swaying butt, he found nightmare made flesh, making him freeze in place at the back. Before them was Briar Bloodthorn. He knew the name, he knew her reputation and he knew she'd be connect with this Heavy Metal Inc but he had never known the face. Or rather, he didn't know the face and name were connected. He knew that face, it had seen it in the flesh once and in his dreams for five years now. It was hard to remember every detail of that day, every face of the enemy but there were those that stick out among the vague mob of rebels and their mercenary allies. The red head chainswording more then a handful of his brothers, was hard to forget. <br><br>Hands tightened on the straps hanging off his torso, the gloves hiding a white knuckled grip, as breath came sharp in his throat. Palms itched with the need for his knives but he mentally forced them not to slip down to the belt around his waist. He could feel his pet crouching besides him, ears flat, spine raised and ready to launch itself towards an old enemy. It was illogical to hate another mercenary, it was just a job and nothing personal when they clashed but he couldn't help it. She had helped kill his family. Bile burned in his guts, as he settled down, just the screen was showing reanimated version of Hal Hardlight. The smile returned for a brief moment, as the second of the trio, made a quip about Queen of Carnage. A harsh, nearly growling laugh rumbled in his throat, as he rolled his shoulders, readjusting the weight they were carrying.<br><br>A sneer rolled across his mouth for a moment, when the raven haired woman inquired about the remaining survivors of Morning Wood School for Girls and how expendable they were. His remaining biological eye focused on the screen, as he swallowed the need to spit. Oh he had done terrible things for pay, the least of which was quashing people fighting for their rights but the Red Hand had never cut down civies. Rebels? Sure thing. Violent mobs? You know it. Factory workers who had murdered or taken their supervisors hostage? Damn right.<br><br>"This wont be a habit" he asked slowly, none of his hate in his voice, reaching down to rub the smooth skin of his pet, "Fixing your blunders I mean?" 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Heavy Metal Inc. - [Game Thread]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MzHyde</strong> on <strong>14-07-2013, 02:41:31</strong>
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				Briar laughed loudly. If they were trying to rile her up, it wasn't working. "Please, you skags! My 'blunder'. I decapitated that fuck. You want me to fuckin' torch every dude I gut so they don't get brought back to life from now on? You two chucklenuts think you can stand here an' insult me?" The redhead grinned jovially and motioned at Artorias, "You, Tin Can, I fuckin' saved yer worthless ass life. So don't talk about blunders when I hadda pluck <strong>YOU</strong> outta the deepest backwoods buttcrack of empty space. You wouldn't be fuckin' sittin' here if it weren't for me." Her gaze flicked to James, the amazonian woman waving a digit at him, "An' <strong>YOU</strong>, prettyboy, I remember MY company kickin' the ever loving shit outta YOUR company on Tranellore. You assclowns 'blundered' into the most obvious ambush I ever laid in my damn life. So both of ya, cram it."<br><br>She maintained that grin and the mirth remained in her eyes. Briar could dish it out as well as she could take it, in all respects. A few snide remarks from prospective members wouldn't damage her ego any. It would probably take a nuclear warhead to damage her ego, actually. They should probably start building bunkers out of it. Egonium. Bloodthorn drew her attention to the company's newest piece of tail and wagged a teasing digit at her, "HMI doesn't harm civvies. Property destruction is all part of the job an', fuck, that's what those places have insurance or whatever for, but killin' innocents ain't somethin' we do. We don't have many rules here, but that's a big one. Make sure ya protect 'em. Otherwise, we're no better than Hammer &amp; Flail, or those pissants from Iron Wolf."<br><br>At that point a little holographic figure popped up in the center of the room. It was semi-transparent and blue, female, dressed like some kind of biker chick. She had messy black hair and darker blue circles around her eyes and darker blue lines running from the corners of her mouth. She even had a little cigarette dangling from her lips, trailing fake electronic smoke. It must've been designed by Briar, but the redhead didn't look like the type to be any kind of programmer. Briar seemed more likely to get a computer to work by punching it repeatedly than attempting any fancy lines of code. Either way, the AI spoke.<br><br><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font">"We're over the drop zone,"</span> it said.<br><br>Briar grinned, "Great! Let's get this show on the road, then!" Glancing at the recruits again, she set her hands on her hips and grinned, "We're gonna circle back around in an hour. Either you've got the job done, or I go down there an' collect your remains to mail home. One way or the other, I'm gonna drink a lotta beer to celebrate. Good luck, skags!" Grinning and snapping off a mock salute, she watched them go.<br><br>Go?<br><br>Yes. The floor dropped out, rather unceremoniously, from under all three of them (four, technically, if one counts the live animal). The drop was ten feet at best, so none of them should get hurt. It was rather astounding how the ship had managed to get over the drop zone. It hadn't even felt like they were moving! Damn smooth ride. 'Smooth' was not, however, an apt descriptor for how things were going outside. <br><br><div align="center">(http://i1264.photobucket.com/albums/jj499/MzHyde/School_zpsf8c94201.jpg)</div><br>Morning Wood was one of the three remaining private schools on Earth. Well, there were <strong>TWO</strong> now. One was a boy's school and the other was a highly exclusive barber college. Schools in general were going rather extinct, only to be found in the massive metropolises on the east coast of the US, the center of Japan, and in Canada. But nobody really counts Canada. Morning Wood was currently infested with zombies and part of it was on fire, so attendance was at an all time low. The crew had been dropped just inside the gates and before them lay a sprawling, fenced-in institution. A wide pathway led up to the main buildings, which looked like they belonged to some kind of church or monastery, not a school. The buildings were constructed of sturdy stone with wood accents and roofing. Lush green grass spread out to the left and right, the occasional tree dotting the landscape. A real treat on this smog-choked rathole of a planet. They were probably fake. That would explain why they weren't brown and on fire. <br><br>Currently, there are about a dozen KA infected school girls in short skirts running at the entire group of mercenaries, screaming bloody murder and gnashing their teeth. They all look rather the same, thanks to the rapid decay of their flesh and the matching uniforms. People tend to lose their individuality once they contract KA and go kill crazy gaga for the taste of long pig. A single bite could mean the virus is contracted and once that happens, you're a cannibal corpse within the hour. Contact with any bodily fluids in open areas can lead to it, too, so the mercs would have to watch the splatter and maybe invest in some goggles. A final note; the uniforms the girls are wearing have ANGEL systems built in. Most clothes do and these are no exception. With packs of screaming teenagers running at the newbies, trying to shoot them down before getting chomped on would be a risky proposition. It would be like trying to repel tweens at a Justin Bieber concert (Comeback Tour; Belieber In Miracles, 2045). <br><br><strong>Everyone</strong><br>So, there's like a dozen zombies running at you all. That's neat. Should do something about that. After, though, here's a puzzler; where do you go? The small building at the end of the main path is boarded and nailed up haphazardly. That's probably where any survivors are being held. The building to your right looks tempting. The doors are blown open. The path of destruction obviously begins here. Maybe this is the way Hardlight went? There's a little winding path in the distance, leading to the wing that is currently on fire. This, in turn, leads to a clock tower. Clock towers <strong>ALWAYS</strong> scream 'Evil Lair'. Maybe there's something up there. Pretty fuckin' dangerous, though. You should probably talk it out as a group, because going your separate ways would be a death sentence. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Heavy Metal Inc. - [Game Thread]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PhantomPistoleer</strong> on <strong>14-07-2013, 06:49:03</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://25.media.tumblr.com/3f7ac0355e6a7d875975b6bc89be65f7/tumblr_mkqxnaGpbS1rly7h0o1_500.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Vixen Vickers<br><strong>Age:</strong> 32<br><strong>Race:</strong> Human, Female<br><strong>Hair:</strong> Raven<br><strong>Eyes:</strong> Blue<br><strong>Height:</strong> 5'7"<br><strong>Weight:</strong> 110 lbs.<br><strong>Sexual Preference:</strong> Bisexual, Borderline Nymphomaniac<br><br>Vixen Vickers was disappointed that she couldn't harm the innocents, not even for fun, but like any seasoned gun-toting mega whore, she didn't show it.&nbsp; Instead, she simply smiled her lascivious, lip-licking crimson smile, her artificially stained pearly whites gleaming with want -- the people around her were so hot that they made her teeth sweat.&nbsp; But before she knew it, she saw herself dropping from the vessel, and hit the ground hard.&nbsp; She slowly turned over and rested on the side of her money maker, and suddenly snapped back her raven hair.<br><br>&nbsp;"That cow!" she hissed as she got up, all the time permitting her movements to accentuate her firm posterior.&nbsp; She then turned around, and raised an eyebrow at the incoming horde of zombies.&nbsp; Her left hand extended outwards, and a long cylinder slid out from a sheathe in her wrist.&nbsp; Then, once in her grasp, she brought both hands to the shaft, and jerked to her left side in a swift, imperious motion.&nbsp; Then, she moved the cylinder in a wide arc before her.&nbsp; As she moved, the shaft elongated to three feet, and a katana formed in her hands.&nbsp; She raised it to the samurai's defensive position.<br><br>&nbsp;"All right, boys," she said, smiling. &nbsp;"If we get out of this, it's blow jobs for everyone."&nbsp; She winked, and then rushed into combat, running exceedingly quickly for being in high heels.&nbsp; As she neared the group, she touched a button on the side of her glasses and a protective mask formed over her face.&nbsp; With one quick slice, she commenced her dirty work.&nbsp; And she loved it.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Heavy Metal Inc. - [Game Thread]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>IrishWolf</strong> on <strong>16-07-2013, 02:24:04</strong>
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				"Ha" James half grunted, "We might hav....."<br><br>Whatever else he was planning on saying about Tranellore was lost, just like the solid floor under his feet. For a wondrous, fraction of nanosecond, it felt like he was floating and then he was falling. The indignant screech in his ear and the shock flowing through his cybernetic link with his pet, more then told him that he wasn't the only one being dumped from the belly of the Bon Scott. Leaning forwards, he rolled as he hit the ground, doing at least one full flip before coming to a stop on his kneels, automatically unslinging the weapon and bring it to his shoulder. His pet landed on all fours and hunched down, hissing in rage, while glaring up at the departing vessel. <br><br>"Fucking bitch" grumbled Morgan, his eyes already picking out which of the figures running towards the little group was closest, the muzzle of his weapon trained on them, "That fucking bitch." <br><br>It took him the space of a breath but he forced his finger off the trigger. It wasn't like it wouldn't be easy to smash those civilian grade shields. Two solid metal slugs traveling at the border of supersonic and hypersonic speed would overwhelm them, with a third hitting the human body unopposed. It was more then fascinating, is a morbid sense, the effects of such a shot. At such speeds, the hunk of metal hit with an explosive force and could rip a body apart. Of course that would just turn anyone he shot into a uncontrollable biological bomb, spreading their sickness.<br><br>As his companions readied for battle, James stood up and yanked one of the bayonets at his waist from it's sheath. In one quick motion, he snapped it into the lugs on the barrel of his rifle, listening to the hum of a energy filled blade, before yanking his bag off. Without looking, he shoved a hand deep inside, felt around and yanked out a pair of masks. Pulling the first over his head, he slide the clear faceguard into place and switched on the rebreather. Turning slightly, he slipped the second mask over the face of his pet, already sending wordless instructions to the muscled beast. It was more feelings and images then commands he used tell the predator to not engage this enemy, conveying sickness and death in the foe. The beast growled low and it's tail lashed but it obeyed, remaining behind him. <br><br>"Blowjobs for all huh" half mused Morgan, as the chick in the fetish outfit starting running forwards, "Sounds like a good reason to stay alive."<br><br>He glanced over at the armored figure, the one who had made the first jab at the so called Queen of Carnage and once again thought that it might have been a good idea to have invested in some sort of armor. While it was true that an ANGEL system was good for anything being thrown or shot at you, once you got within the field, it did squat. Some kind of body armor would go a long way in a hand to hand fight but he had always needed the money for something else. Now it seemed like it might bite him in the ass, or at least the lack of it might allow some slobbering infected to bite him in the ass.<br><br>"We should stick together" said James, reslinging his pack, "No need to get mobbed under or ambushed from behind. We do this right and we'll one up that bitch Bloodthorn."<br><br>Without another word, he charged forwards, after the chick, his pet loping along behind him. He held the rifle like a spear and as he rushed the closest infected, thrust the blade through her eye socket. While he might not need to be that flashy, showing off his skill, he wanted to make sure anything he killed stayed dead. With infected, an electricity cooked brained was the right way to go, if one couldn't cleave the skull in half. Yanking the bayonet free, he turned on his heel and struck again.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Heavy Metal Inc. - [Game Thread]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MzHyde</strong> on <strong>17-07-2013, 06:37:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Artorias landed wrong, twisting his ankle and tumbling to the ground. The momentary sign of weakness was all it took for the pack of rampaging teenage zombies to turn their attention upon him. 'Dogpile' would be a word that could be used to describe it. 'Gross' would be another. The KA infected girls were whipped into a frothing, homicidal rage at the prospect of fresh meat. Canned, too! Armor is great for helping to stop against ranged attacks, cushioning blows, or just making you look super badass. It is <strong>NOT</strong>, however, good at stopping a baker's dozen adrenaline-riddled, zombified, flesh hungry girls from ripping, twisting, wrenching, and prying until you come out of that armor like a turtle out of it's shell. Not that Earth had turtles anymore. Not after they were wiped out in the Meme Wars of 2015. You get the idea, though. With a final, vengeful cry of <em>"Choke on 'em! Choookkkeee on 'emmmmmmm!"</em> as the girls pulled him in half, Artorias died. Regretfully, the zombies did not choke on his organs. <br><br>Clearly, the zombies were much more dangerous than anticipated. One-on-one they'd be easy prey, but the school was packed full of the daughter of every rich bastard in the country. As a pack, they were much more deadly. It made the prospect of ranged combat rather shaky, meaning the remaining mercs would have to get creative, or rely on melee. The edge they had over the zombies was their intelligence. KA victims were base creatures driven only by their need to feed and spread the virus. <br><br>In any case, a number of options still lay before the duo.<br><br><strong>Everyone</strong><br>So, there's like a dozen zombies <del>running at you all</del> eating some face. That's neat. Do you do something about that? You could take the time and try to dispatch them now. You could also just book it, 'cause fuck this shit. Your job is to kill Hardlight, not axe every zombie in the school. What do you do? The small building at the end of the main path is boarded and nailed up haphazardly. That's probably where any survivors are being held. The building to your right looks tempting. The doors are blown open. The path of destruction obviously begins here. Maybe this is the way Hardlight went? There's a little winding path in the distance, leading to the wing that is currently on fire. This, in turn, leads to a clock tower. Clock towers ALWAYS scream 'Evil Lair'. Maybe there's something up there. Pretty fuckin' dangerous, though. You should probably talk it out as a group, because going your separate ways would be a death sentence. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Heavy Metal Inc. - [Game Thread]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>IrishWolf</strong> on <strong>19-07-2013, 03:56:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A second teenage schoolgirl met with true death, as the crackling blade of Morgan's bayonet slammed into the back of her head. The sharp point punched into her skull, right at the point where her spinal cord connected, severing that all important nerve highway and killing her instantly. He pulled the weapon free, as she collapsed like a boneless sack of flesh, only to hear a enraged bellowing from behind him. Not looking back, he instead gutted another girl of the pack that had changed in from their collective front, as a secondary image flashed through his vision, being received through his bionic eye from his pet, as the creature turned to see the source of the noise. His stomach churned slightly, as the death and devouring of Artorias was play before him in high definition. <br><br>"Fuck" spat James, recovering from his slash to the girl's stomach and driving the bayonet up through her jaw, into her brain. The body spasmed, as the energy from the blade jumpstarted her nerves, until he jerked it free of her skull. Not even watching the body drop, he scanned for infected before him, knowing those behind were busy tearing about what had been a cyborg. Finding none a head, he knew they needed to get out of the open and start looking for the target. Glancing to his left, he reached out with one hand and grabbed Vixen's arm. Holding on tight, he pulled her along behind him as he dashed for the broken open building on the right. It looked like it belonged in some sort of pansy ass warzone, the kind some call brutal wars but real professionals would call sunday picnic.<br><br>"Come on" he growled, "We'll play with them once we kill Hardlight." <br><br>His pet was already moving but not towards the smashed open doors. He had already decided that his scout wouldn't be of much use, not with infected stalking the grounds. Against the living, wounds would be acceptable, something that could be patched up but with the Kellis-Amberlee virus in the mix, any would could be fatal. Instead, the sinewy beast bounded over the outside wall of the building and leaped. Hard claws sank into the cheap fake stone, as the lean creature scrambled up the corner, keeping well away from the windows. It would keep watch on the outside, to make sure some horde of flesh starved zombie teens didn't catch the two mercenaries unaware while they searched the building for their target.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
		</dl>
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