The Snowflake of Characters (A Character Development exercise)

(OOC: I don't mean to be rude or anything, but Willery Wyvernjack is feeling a little left out here, being unconscious in a helicopter and all. )

((OOC: just have him wake up, silly. I didn't say what the syringe did—I mean, we can guess it would incapacitate a human, but what it would do to an atlantien or a half-elf could be entirely different.))

(OOC: I don't mean to be such an eye-opener, but I don't suppose that Wyvernjack, as a half-elf, has a vastly different physiology from humans, does he? Perhaps he metabolises the drug far faster than expected? It is one suggestion.)

Commander Nascimento's eyes widen to the blood spattering his mask.

"Bloody fu—?" he utters in the face of horror. What the hell WHAT is he WHY is he?!

He glances Jose's bashed-in and mangled head, pieces of what once was a helmet and traces of skull in the snow, and the blood pooling which results. Primal fear shows up for a split second; but the fear turns to ingrained reflex and seventeen years of tough experience. Conscious thought gives way to animal action.

fire

Nasci, mere inches from Holz, slams his rifle's butt against the bridge of the nose (This offers few, precious seconds where which the victim is stunned) — following through, he pivots towards the new aggressor: a man, it looks like, a DANGEROUS man demanding for Yomiko Readman.

He is in the Danger Zone. The fighting mindset where anyone else coming up can be hostile. There is no time to think. Just shoot. Shoot And Go. Bob SAG it.

"Take her in!" he screams. "Get her to 'he choppa!!"

He fires his rifle's worth into the 'man.' IT's such a terrifying sound his gun makes; roaring and roaring and its cracks echoing the whole vicinity of the countryside. The remaining soldier, with Yomiko held slumped on his shoulder, crawls up inside the safety of the canopy.

Nasci empties the rest of his clip — and he too jumps right in the helicopter, shutting the doors tight behind. "FLY! We have The Paper in storage~! We have The Paper! FLY FOR ALL WHAT GOOD IS!"

The helicopter's rotors whirr faster and faster — and the aircraft hangs higher and higher into the night sky.

Inside, the canopy is a claustrophobe's nightmare, what with the constant humming of the engine and all. Yomiko rests, strapped into a stretcher, IV and blood tubes jabbed right into her veins. Beside this stretcher, the two miscreants have been roped up, arms to arms, back to back, lying on the ground.

On the other end, Commander Nascimento sits with his soldier in the seats, congratulating themselves for a job well done. It's all over now. Nasci pulls the mask from his head, revealing the gaunt face◊ of the hyper-tense man. One of his eyelids flutters, but he wipes his eyes on the sleeve and all is well.

What a shame though that he lost Jose back at the site. Oh well. People die, sooner or later. (Preferably later for him, in old age.) He can tell all about it back at HQ.

Sure enough, plenty of silver-gilded caskets lie waiting in storage.

edited 1st Jan '11 2:29:03 PM by QQQQQ

Arthur staggared to a stop, face slakening in confusion. There was the man—the injured man from the plow—overtaking him easily, slaughtering the soldiers on the helicopter with inhuman ease. As the helicopter shot skyward, he caught a glimpse of a familiar face, and he could only hope that she had seen him too. "Catch up with you later, Adelaide!" he shouted, and sprinted as fast as he could in the opposite direction. He crossed paths with Milo halfway and, without losing any momentum, grabbed the little man by the midrif and carried him over one shoulder. "Can't talk now, crazy man behind us." he gasped, and, locking the doors behind him, revved the plow up to its torturous crawl.

"Is he following us?" Arthur asked, eyes glued to the road. "Look out the back window, tell me he's not following us."

The winter night screams outside the helicopter doors. The Paper is secure, the man responsible for the mess on the ground dead. Filled with holes. The men closest to Jose look down at the chaos below with grief, disbelief, but above all, hatred.

They exchange brief glances, their eyes all telling the same story. They only wish they could've done it first. But they had been slow. Complacent. Now all they can offer their fallen friend is a final goodbye. To Jose, they each give a salute.

Sergeant Ian, feeling particularly brave, opens the door to spit on Jose's killer. He swings his head out the door, screaming in enraged triumph, "SAY HI TO THE DEVIL FOR ME YOU SONUVABITCH!"

He looks down for the body. But there's only one. His eyes widen in fear and what little light the night offers is eclipsed by a looming shadow in the doorframe. Its eyes glow with a hellbound glee, and it grins, the red light of its eyes reflecting off its toothy smile.

"How about you instead? Send Big Red my regards." The shadow grabs Ian by the arm and hurls him out the open door. It looks tot he rest of them, still grinning. It holds out its hand, still stained with Jose's blood.

"The girl. Please."

(OOC: Ohhhhh shit.)

Nasci wishes it's a nightmare — seeing the hideous grin. He considers pinching himself on the arm, but he can feel his jaws lock, utterly stuck, and the cold sweat dripping his brow.

But who is he to chicken in the face of horror? He is Commander Nascimento, one of the top ranking tiers of the Elite Retrieval Team, and before that, the Encounter and Assault Recon unit. If anything, horror should be having nightmares of him.

The winds howl through the open door, spreading snow like confetti inside.

"I am Nascimento," he finally says. "I pick up whoever I am told to pick up. Not Terrorists, nor Vigilante Rebels, nor the likes of you shall stop me. If you want The Paper from me, you want death."

He smiles, cocking a round into his rifle.

"Or, otherwise, feel free to take a ride along back to HQ too — as long as you don't make a racket," he adds jokingly.

edited 1st Jan '11 2:47:37 PM by QQQQQ

Willery heard muffled sounds of the conflict happening around him. They were so distant...

But then, he heard the rushing of water, and he felt as if he were being lifted out of an ocean of unconsciousness.

He woke up and attempted to stand, only to find that his limbs were bound with rope, hog-tied behind his back. The Eldritch Gun, he remembered, was taken by the ice lady... he'd have to try something different.

When a Warlock gains their power, whether through pact or bloodline, it is unrefined and crude. It needs something to flow through, to control it, for it to realize its full potential instead of being wasted in every direction. That was what the gun was for - to make sure the blasts kept going in a straight line instead of careening all over the place.

The effects of pact energy being channeled directly through the body of the Warlock is dangerous, as it can overwhelm them, loosen their grip on sanity, or even shorten their lifespan. But Willery decided it was a risk worth taking, rather than being abducted by strangers who would do even more terrible things to him. He closed his eyes to avoid alerting the soldiers that he was awake, and spoke the words that the star aliens had given to him in a dream. The words were not of any language known to man, elf, or dwarf, and for the uninitiated to use them was to drive themselves insane. He channeled the energy as it began to flow through his veins, a sort of skin-crawling sensation all over. The energy finally visibly appeared at his fingertips, and materialized into hordes and hordes of beetles.

The first thing the beetles went for was the rope, as it was the organic material closest to their hungry mouths. After chewing through that in a matter of seconds, Willery moved his hands back to his front and pulled off the many loops that bound his feet.

But the beetles had minds of their own, and started swarming around the cabin of the helicopter like a plague. Willery had to cover his mouth to avoid accidentally eating one. (They were probably good protein, but the tranquilizer still had him feeling a little nauseated.) He stretched his hand over to the pocket of the ice girl, and reclaimed his pistol, cradling it like a baby. "The New World Order can never take our guns away..." he cooed.

(OOC: Feel free to do anything with the beetles. They are Wild Cards, after all.)

edited 1st Jan '11 2:48:21 PM by LilPaladinSuzy

(OOC: This is a serious case of Poor Communication Kills, isn't it?)

Shaken, Milo sat where he'd been thrown and turned incredulous eyes on Arthur. What just happened? Did he seriously just grab me and carry me back to the snowplow?

Nursing bruised dignity, Milo turned around and scanned the road behind the snowplow. "I can't see anyone," he said stiffly. "Who might be following us?"

Arthur did not answer, eyes glued to the road. Milo turned around and sat properly, legs sticking out in front of him. He wished he knew what was going on. Might as well have stayed here to start with, he thought miserably.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" he said.

edited 1st Jan '11 2:55:54 PM by LoniJay

Malcolm smiled. "Sure, I'll take a ride. I kinda want to meet the man responsible for this young lady anyway. By the way, you want these back?"

He uncurls his left hand, and lets drop a clip of spent rifle bullets.

Nascimento looks on the puffed-up, ballooned rounds dropped upon the floor. So all this time..

But then, he smiles again — to the point of spitting the face of the venomous hitchhiker. "What a senseless waste of armour-piercing rounds. Thanks." Nasci never blinks, nor breaks eye contact at all. And he most certainly buries down all the rage welling at his heart. If the 'man' shows his back..

"So I won't have to mourn the waste of one clip," Nasci says, teeth gritted.

At the corner of his eye, he notices what looks like bugs spilling out from the pockets of the tied-up captives. He still stares on at the 'man.'

"Mind if you can stomp all these bugs out.. for both our sakes?" Maricón.

edited 1st Jan '11 3:14:06 PM by QQQQQ

Arthur looked back for himself and relaxed at the sight of the empty road. "S-sorry. The guy," he said "the one in the plow with the—" he made a vague gesture to indicate a bloodsmeared face "—he just killed a guy and took a few rounds to the vitals and then he didn't die." Arthur stopped the plow and looked out the back window again.

"But if he's not on the road, where's he gone..?" And then he saw him, against all logic, framed in the door of the fast-retreating helicopter. Arthur looked at the Carl, towards the mansion, and back towards the helicopter. "We should go after it." he said, shifted into reverse, and paused, looking once more to the Carl. "I—I could probably drop you off first, though. Somewhere safe. If you want."

"I'll try my best hoss, but giants aren't known for their precision."

Malcolm unsheathes a knife from the folds of his trenchcoat and goes to work. He skewers the beetles on the knife like some sort of barbecue, stomping the ones he misses. They give him plenty of opportunity. After all, he seems to be the only thing they ignore.

After a good few minutes, he sighs. "Soldier boy, I think we might have to land this thing. They're eating through the fuel tank."

Adelaide looked up suddenly. "Can beetles swim?"

Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed a nearby bottle of water and poured it into her hand, where it expanded beyond the realms of believable surface tension. She splashed the water against the fuel tank and pulled it back again, repeating this, enlarging her bubble with the helecopter's frost until the fuel tank at the very least was safe. She swung the bubble around once more and splashed it against Malcolm's head.

"You're a jerk." she said poutily, and returned the bubble to protecting the tank. If asked, she would blame it on the drugs.

edited 1st Jan '11 3:36:28 PM by DaeBrayk

"No," Milo snapped. Drop me off somewhere safe? What does he think I am? "If you're going somewhere dangerous, I can help. I'm not a child."

What did he mean, the guy they'd left in the snowplow? He'd been unconscious when Milo had left him here. And Arthur had all his clothes.

Milo looked behind him again, at the strange machine hovering impossibly in the sky. How does it stay up? It doesn't have any wings, he wondered. Then a thought struck him. It was in the air...

"That thing," he said to Arthur, "What's it called? Is it an air lift? Because if it is, I think it's scarf.... I mean, I think they're the injured lady's friends."

edited 1st Jan '11 5:47:10 PM by LoniJay

Holz is grimacing, watching the chopper fly off. Tch. He'd given the man one free shot, and the annoying suddenness of it left him in little position to shoot the damn thing down.

"Everyone alright?" he shouted. "And is anyone willing to follow that thing?" The sword in his hand liquefies, flowing over his hand in a tight glove of metal. "Because if not, I fear that I'll be departing."

Malcolm sits on the floor, absentmindedly stabbing what beetles remain. Over the crunching, he hears Yomiko's shallow breathing. He shrugs off the fading adrenaline and remembers why he hijacked the helicopter in this first place. Not for fun, although it certainly had been. Not out of curiosity, although it had certainly been a factor.

He did it so he could repay his debt. With caution, he approaches Yomiko. The soldiers all turn their attention to him, a few grip their rifles, ready to fire.

"Relax, would ya? Just sit back and keep your eyes on the sky." Malcolm says, although the soldiers show no sign of relaxing any time soon.

He sighs, and gets to work. He removes the cotton glove on his right hand and exposes his flesh to the elements. The skin ripples and a fine grey dust floats from the lines of his palm. They drift down and fall on Yomiko like the snow outside.

A moment passes and he puts his glove on again. "It's not much but it should do the trick."

Within moments, life signs stabilize. Breathing becomes steady and the tension leaves the body.

(OOC: I want to post right now but I'm slightly lost. What just happened?)

(OOC: It's a retrieval group KSPAM, so you know — you would think they would offer up more than 3 units for the group, but it seems with the limited budget they're having, this threesome arrangement is the best they can do. One commander, with two subordinate soldiers. Malcolm has tossed out the two soldiers. Nasci is feeling lonely )

Nasci offers only a grimace at the 'man', watching with all the distrust there is in the world. "If you.." He raises his rifle, despite knowing the bullets won't work. "If you harm her in any way, I will make you take! Understand?" Not a good threat at all.

He focuses his attention on the two waking captives — noting their rope lying in tatters with the mush of dead bugs. "You two. Don't move a single, solitary muscle." Nasci trains the rifle upon the both of them. The barrel of the gun bouncing, alternating between the woman, and the man. "Know where you are mengs? You're on the Polar Express to Hell. The conductor: me. Know why you're here? Because you did something very naughty, you bad little children. Santa Claus is gonna see you. God knows what he offers to naughty noughts.. peh. A coal. If you're lucky."

He nods his head to his own little joke.

"I know for certain you won't be getting any toys this Christmas."

...

A warmth spreads from the tip of Yomiko's skin all the way to her heart and lungs. It prickles like the calm current before lightning. It is blissful. And the numbness disappears.

whap-n-whap-n-whap (Helicopter? Yes, it is. That must be the airlift.)
hooooooownnnn (It feels blistering cold on her naked skin.. oogh. Why does it feel wet?)
"..it's not much, but it should do the trick." (Who's there?)

These sounds, even in the distance.

Yomiko Readman opens her eyes. Her glasses' fogged lenses make every sight a plethora of blurs and sparkles. Risking near-sightedness, she tries looking above her glasses — gosh, her eyes sting — she gets a marginally clearer view of the place. It looks like a cramped space, the yellow light at the corner. What is that she's covered with? Little specks on her coat..

Aghh.

She tries to move, an arm, a leg, but restraints pull against her movements in their tracks.

Beyond, she sees figures in the distance, moving around hesitantly. Maybe they are saying something, but she can't tell what over the noise of the helicopter blades.

It seems a long time before she is able to break the dried scum of saliva gluing her lips together, and croak out (something).

"Urrrnnngg.." Yomiko moans out her mouth.

edited 1st Jan '11 8:14:09 PM by QQQQQ

"I didn't mean to... Sorry." said Arthur. "It's called a helicopter. If they're friends with the woman then that's good to hear, but they're certainly not friends with my sister, and the man they've got with them isn't a friend to anyone at all. If you had seen him..." Arthur winced at the memory. "Noone in that helicopter or with that man is safe, and if we try to help them, we won't be either."

Arthur pulled up behind Ben Holz and rolled down the window. "We're going after them...it's kind of a tight fit in here and it isn't exactly fast, but you're welcome to join us."

In the helicopter, Adelaide sat quietly. She could explain it all later, and they were safe as long Wyvernjack didn't have his—his gun. She glanced down at her pocket and barely stopped herself from plunging her hand inside. It was gone, and that could only mean... She tried to catch the soldier's eye, tried to make him see that it was important, and, with the hand that Wyvernjack couldn't see, beckoned him in closer.

edited 1st Jan '11 8:44:39 PM by DaeBrayk

((OOC: Let me get this straight... There was a bus accident and Yomiko got seriously injured and called for a retrieval team to get her fixed up. Malcolm found the retrieval team suspicious, and decided to kill one of them before they could escape. Now the retrieval team with Yomiko and two other people are flying back to base, with Malcolm and everyone else in pursuit. Am I correct?

I just want to understand what is going on, so I could add my own character or two. He is really an experiment to see if I can write characters like him. You'd probably notice what kind of person he is if he comes out properly. Oh and is it alright if under some circumstances he speaks/thinks in the small all caps text? ))

edited 1st Jan '11 9:10:38 PM by EldritchBlueRose

((OOC: Nearly, Malcolm is actually on the helicopter. He's hijacked it. And I don't think small caps would be a problem))

Not quite correct; Malcolm is in the helicopter with the retrieval team, Adelaide, Yomiko and Wyvernjack. Ninja'd.

Milo and Arthur are in a snowplow in pursuit. Holz is possibly about to join them.

There was also a character of AC Drawings, but he seems to have disappeared. edit: Oh there he is.

edited 1st Jan '11 10:41:36 PM by LoniJay

The man appeared on the roof of the snowplow, he knew his work wasn't done. This was an odd situation and he needed to have all the details. He had heard of this organization but had no intel. He decided to extend his brain to the helicopter and search every mind in there to discover the situation. The glow blinked on his forehead again and his eyes glowed even brighter than before, piercing into the night like a pear of high beams.

He took a hold of each head like the monstrous Kraken as it curled it's enormous tentacles around a collective of ships. Each golden tentacles squirming around the innermost thoughts of each person, grabbing every thought in the consciousness and subconscious that said "paper" and "organization" and he took back into his depths appropriately. He then began sifting through the proper information, seeing what he meant to learn.

Willery was just about to slide the gun back into the holster on his belt when he saw the ice lady beckoning from the other end of the helicopter, motioning for him to come. He remembered the first encounter where she had tried to take his precious pistol from him and hid it accordingly under his jacket. Then he did what any cautious, rational adult would do.

"Neener neener, you government shill!" he taunted, sticking his tongue out and putting his thumbs in his ears. But he realized that his tinfoil circlet was falling over his eyes, so he turned around to readjust it.

(OOC: My last post of the night. I need a sleepy. But before I go to bed, I wish to share this with you folks, as hopes for the New Year.)

Sifting the mental files of the helicopter's inhabitants, Psy-Kick finds this resulting information:

And that seems to be all that Psy-Kick may find for now, without delving to merciless mind raping.