Scattered Reflections - Mirror's Edge RP

You're suddenly shaked and wake up.

The first feeling you feel for what seemed like ages is your body being picked up. And lifted somewhat. Then you force yourself to hardly breathe trough your burning throat and lungs.

All The darkness is disorienting. Your feet skids across a slick floor as you try to remember what happened. A passageway seems to open.

Securing Your World.

Then you remember. You were on a mission. You are Runners. You were on each side of the docks as you were captured by...

The darkness seems to lift somewhat. You're sitted upon a surface and try to resist with your irresponsive body as you feel your hands being tied down behind you. You were captured. These people weren't ordinary blues. They'd send Runner Hunters after you. Pursuit Cops.

"Well, first and foremost, I welcome you to our facilities here in Pirandello Krueger." A voice says, sarcastically.

PK. You were captured by PK.

"Unfortunately Mr. Krueger is at an important meeting at the moment and can't attend to you right now. So let me introduce myself instead."

A huge hit of some kind seems to resonate in the room, along with a preceding moan of pain. You feel like you are in a room with a source of light above you and lined up with other people. This...bag, yes, there is a bag in your head, its hindering your vision.

"I'm your worst fucking nightmare. You're here to rat out your friends. Let me be completely clear about this: You are all gonna die here, and by my hands. The info you have will be decisive in regards of how quickly and how peaceful you're...expiring."

A series of blows seems to fall to every partner of this mission you can remember.

"Skylar. You don't look so free. Here's...an incentive!" A punch.

"Will". Another hit. "You brought me so much problem, where is your...willpower now, huh?" Will seems to take a good three hits before the voice is finally satisfied.

"Keaton. Our little traitor. You look like you have too many legs, Centipede. Care to borrow me some?" another hit, and by the screams, this one hit hard.

"Ilena. Captured like Helen of troy. I'm winning with this little frame of you either way. Either you talk first or die first, and make such a good example. I'm not fucking with any of you. I'm gonna beat you all to death." A kick seems to land on the girl and her chair seems to tilt and fall under her.

The voice did not seem to approach any of the others runners, apparently sitted on aligned chairs, but rather kept itself at Lena's side.

"You see, I see runners like pigeons. Most people think they're a nuisance, even feed them. For me they are a plague. I want nothing more than to see them splattered against the concrete."

"So, let's start with some simple questions, shall we?" Lena's voice faltered as if her throat was being holded. "Who is the Janitor? Where is November?"

A number of blows rained down before anyone could say anything. You could hear Lena's cries of pain. "I've got all the time in the world..."

A few moments passes in silence. "Wait! I Can tell you! I can tell you!"Will's voice echoes trough the dark chamber.

"Now that's a winner! This is what I want to hear, come here Will. Let me take off this thing in your head. "Go ahead."

Will's voice seemed less muffled. He gasped for air and then: "I can tell you are a pussy just fine with only listening to your voice, asshol-" A hit. Then another. And another. Will moans again.

"You have such delicate soft hands for a Runner. That should make you a hit with your fellow girls." The man said coldly. Then there was a snap of broken bones and a piercing cry of pain coming from Will.

"First we break your fingers - one by one -" another crack and a cry. "Then we get tools for ripping your nails off. Next we'll play with your hands until you beg for us to cut off your fingers." Will was still crying, but the feeling of being exposes never left.

"So, where are we again? Oh, yes. Who is the Janitor. Where. Is. NOVEMBER?"

edited 8th Dec '16 8:01:07 AM by Kyef

PK interrogations, Of course Amanda Logan had heard of them, and was familiar with how normal police interviews were supposed to be conducted and that at times they went too far. PK went far beyond that, their efforts to maintain stability coming mighty close to terrorism, which had convinced her to chuck in her job in cattle exports which at the moment had become crappy and made her think of the idea of someone using her former employers as a front. Now...now Amanda wasn't sure what she was. Not a Runner, not part of the loose coalition who fought against the state sec facism but...maybe an associate, though what they thought of her and whether that was a good or bad thing was something the woman had not decided yet.

"He should be just about here," she mused to herself. Amanda had managed to track down one of these freedom fighters and took it upon herself to confront him. See if he had information...or wanted it. The video on the thumb drive she palmed was something that could be taken further, maybe, get it to the press, see if maybe one of the warring clans wanted it, or even try and do that hacking and social media thing she saw in those video games and try and get the public to take a look at PK.

Should I become involved? Amanda asked herself, not for the first time. All she wanted was a steady job and the chance to have some type of life, but the footage she had seen and copied to share, it was wrong, no doubt about it. Just the same though, even if she believed someone had to do something about it didn't mean it had to be her. Just as she wondered whether it was wise to become involved the door burst open and a young man barge into her before she could blink. But the brief glimpse she got was enough to tell Amanda this was her man, who by now had vaulted over the stairway railing and jumped down. Not thinking to check and see whether he took the video as he smashed into her, Amanda followed, hearing the shouts of police in pursuit as she went over the edge and thinking quickly collapsed into a heap at the end of her descent, waiting for the officer to catch up.

"Civilian down," she heard him say, "Female. Suspect is too far to pursue. I'll change targets to her." She sensed the police baton by her head and began to get to her feet.

"He heading to street level." It was a lie however, Amanda thought that whatever the Runner's intentions were it was best to try and help him distance himself from the authorities.

"Don't move," the officer ordered. "We're going to have to take you in." Amanda didn't like the sound of that but thought it best to at least look like she was complying.

"Could you help me up please? I think I twisted my ankle when he knocked me to the ground." And she knew he was considering it, maybe considered copping a feel, Amanda thought darkly, and when she felt his hands on her she flipped the cop into a roll into the closest wall. His grunt told her he wasn't expecting that and Amanda sprung to her feet and quickly ran a hand over him to see if he had a weapon, but aside from the baton he was unarmed.

Damn it. Unlike most Amanda had a gun, it wasn't hers, but she still had a Military & Police automatic that might be useful. Even if there had not been a lack of firearms and ammo wasn't an issue she needed to be very judgmental of when and how she'd use it, just once could well bring a thunderstorm down on all their heads. It was a moot point now, the officer had nothing for her and Amanda broke into a run before he recovered, not making it two steps before there was a bright flash of light.

"November?" she asked, before attempting to strive for humor. "Most I know about it is that it's a sign winter is coming." The interrogator, torturer the victim reminded herself, did not appreciate the joke and winced in pain at the blow, thinking that maybe she wasn't far off the mark and there was a storm on the horizon, before getting serious. "Wait, wait! I had a thought about the janitor." The fact she was not currently being belted told her that maybe it was something worth sharing, so she got serious and tried to make it sound good. "Story I heard is that janitor refers to assassin. Some low class employee who works for Kruger or November or Glass or something, and one might be given a target by them while doing menial tasks like janitor. Cleaning up a mess." She turned, trying to get a look at whoever this sadist was. "You probably know more than I but that's the story."

edited 11th Dec '16 1:59:59 AM by tsstevens

The brute seemed to make a horn sound with his mouth, like the one when you miss a question in a tv pop quiz. Amanda felt gravity shift, the back of a hand tilting her to one side, her chair standing in two legs by the force of the blow alone, then coming back to rest at an horizontal position.

"Missed your chance. This matches hoaxes more than our intel. Who will be our next guesser to these million dollar questions? Don't think you want me to choose."

He walked with what seemed like a baton of some kind, passing it from one to the other of you in line, his creeping step echoing in the room as he strolled slowly, touching the bar on your legs and hitting violently at the bottom of your chairs.

"Who's gonna be, who's gonna be...the first to raise his hands will get a chance to answer. Wait for my signal."

Then he seemed to stop again at Lena's fallen chair and hit it like a drum, repeatedly.

"Time's up, everybody!" He shouted this lingering sequence.

edited 9th Dec '16 2:24:03 PM by Kyef

The girl slowly opened her eye, swollen as they may to look again at the floor that she laid herself against- waking up to painful, sharp ringing around her ears. Tinnitus from loud noise and impact to the head resulting in a concussion, a rational section of her mind reasoned. Ilena slowly heaved and trembled, raggedly taking in air into her lungs as she coughed out phlegm, bile and spat out a few droplets of blood mixed into it. From the jolts and throbs in her chest- fractured ribs, possible damage to the bronchitis and the trachea.

The world is a daze, a veritable blur of sensation and odd blend of colour that slowly formed shapes and coherent volume again. She gulped, hurled out bile and phlegm out again to the steady rapport of the baton and several bruises and fractures around her shin. Existence is pain, another part of her reasoned to another blow to her legs, the sensation blossoming and dulling in seconds as shock settled in. She coughed, wheezed and let out a small whimper, her mind too scattered and fractured at the moment to comprehend this nonsensical stream of noise from the grey mass in front of her. A verbose stream of gibberish that faded into blissful silence, as she slowly blinked again and the world slowly faded into dark.

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"...what..."

Will's voice faltered, in a low tone.

"What are you testing, huh? You know November is dead."

The man walked round to his position.

"Oh, my dearest Will. I'm actually kinda sorry now that it had come to this. C'mon people, I just wanna kill you all and be done with this. How about starting with something simple? Who contacted you?"

edited 10th Dec '16 8:06:04 AM by Kyef

"...", Ilena replied with silence and unsteady breathing. A moment, a two- ah, her throat is not as swollen as she initially thought. She hazarded opening an eye, and looked around again as her vision cleared up. The swelling have died down as do the pain, not being as bruised nor beaten as she initially thought. She winced again- her shin throbbing occasionally where she tripped and fell against a menagerie of pipes on the rooftops as she attempted escape from PK operatives jumping her. One of them certainly swung a little too hard at her where it connected against her head, she said to herself internally and groggily.

Now that this person is not beating her she coughed and hacked again, worried that he actually will start doing so. She can't quite remember who either of those person are- not having made much contact with them nor talked with them much at all. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it shut. Saying something out of hand might not elicit the reaction she wanted out of this man. And she wouldn't want this fellow here to start wailing onto Will, whom she actually does know.

BEEN THERE, DONE THAT

Suddenly, the scream turned into laughter. Sharp, barking, laughter. "Lewis....Right? I recognize your voice."

Centipede shifted in his seat. "First of all, don't call me Keaton. I'm Centipede." He leaned back in his seat. "Second, Is this your first time? I've been in that position before and I assure you that you're doing a quite frankly appalling job."

He grunted again. "I'm hurting, but I'm not scared. At all." Centipede decided not to point out that instead of catching the actual assassin, they'd only captured the decoy. Of course, he'd let it register if the assassin actually pulled off the hit.

"Cocky as ever, aren't you, pal?" The man walked walked over to Keaton with a few steps - apparently Will was close by. He gave light taps on his face and grabbed his shoulders.

"Well you're bluffing, I can read your poker face with this hood over it. I'm sure this is your way of trying to avoid thinking of what comes next. I mean, what would be worse?"

"The shower where we strip you of all clothes and evidence tracing back to us? Being suffocated by our truck's exhausters? Having a brick tied to your feet so the fish can dine what remains of you? Being wiped clean of the records, so nobody will ever found out you existed?"

A strong hand held his neck tightly, tilting Keaton's head to a side.

"On my side...I dunno what to look forward the most. You were always a prick, even before becoming a flea like those guys. Stupid fucking hunter hunter converted to prey."

The baton was pushed against his air pipe.

"Then again standard body disposal would be too easy for you. We'll make an example out of you to anyone who crosses PK. You just hitched a wild ride, bloodsucker."

Keaton felt the bottom of the baton hit hard against his temples, and seconds after he was receiving spit on his chest, disoriented as he was with that blow.

"Garbage. Anyone of you here care to tell me something worthwhile not to share his fate? Maybe I should bring in the toys, then."

"We just told you what we know." Amanda guessed, in that instant, that whoever this goon was he held know interest in information. Torture was merely enjoyment to him. "One minute someone runs past, the next there's that Kruger security or whoever they were everywhere." That simple fact made the pain slightly more bearable. Could it be used to their advantage? Make him lose control?

I'm not ready to die just yet. But if it came to that, this was just some low level goon, at least in Amanda's mind, which likely meant that his bosses would be angry if he got no information, if he went too far. Would that work? Not even listening to what else was said, she tried something else.

"What answers do you want?" she demanded, knowing that she was about to face a world of hurt. "You said yourself even if we knew the Runner's hidden base it wouldn't matter. Why would any of us say a goddamn thing if it makes no difference either way?" And that was the bait, whoever this was had to be after the Runners. Otherwise why go to such trouble? As for finding them...well Amanda had to admit she had no idea but maybe the idea she did would grant a reprieve.

"...", Ilena replied in mum as she shut her mouth and her lips trembled, hands trying to wriggle free of her bindings. She listened to her running mates' back and forth with their warden and interrogator, nervously flitting eyes between the three. She winced one at the blow.That have to hurt- she can feel it even from where she is lying down after all. If he loses control now, however...that's a worrying prospect, she reasoned. Ilena have heard of the stories. Martial law, interrogation, secret police.

"Історія повторюється знову і знову.", her grandmother's words echoed in her mind-an oft repeated sentence by her mother and father as well. The crackdown, the state police, the army, mass deportations or culling of select group of the populace by means heinous and reprehensible, they told her. Perhaps- this is what happened to her parents...

No matter. For now, she must first get out of here. Leave the bleak outlook at the back of her mind first.

Watson looks at the many little blinks on the screen, typing away and flicking at it with precision. He looks down out the glass, and sees the runners he was sent to rescue.

"I really hope this shit is worth it," he mumbles under his breath.

"Alright, done. Lights out."

-

The lights cut out, followed by the big booming voice. Watson smirks, puts on his face mask, and lowers the bill of his cap. He runs and climbs down the pipes and through the nooks and crannies with little to no sound.

Ilena looks up with surprise as the door opens. A PK guard stands in the doorway, staring forward blankly. After about a second or so, he collapses on the floor with a thud. A short Japanese-looking sword of some kind is buried in the nape of his neck. A dark figure draped in black steps out the dark and pulls out the blade from the corpse. "Disgusting," he says to himself as he steps over the dead body.

"Okay, no time to explain. Drake sent me. We have three minutes before the deadlocks on the doors wear off. Haul ass, your friends aren't gonna release themselves. Watson rids of the lashings tying Ilena to her chair with clean slices. He sheathes his wakizashi and steps out the room to help keep watch.

He cracks his neck twice, exhaling. "Good to be back in the game."

As 'Lewis's body falls limp to the floor after exiting the room for checking with the lights, Lena does her best to recompose herself and untie her allies, revealed one by one as she removes the hood on the ones that had covered faces.

There were a few surprises, primarily the lack of serious injuries, best she could tell on this lights. A swollen chin or forehead, a little green or purple skin from a blow here or there, probably everyone got their heads pounding and had a dizzyness between them, but really Will and his two broken index fingers was the worst of them here. He wouldn't shoot a gun in a while.

"Glad Drake sent you. I'd normally be pissed about killing people, but fuck that guy - I'd do it personally if I could. Some people are beyond repair"

He says as his plastic bracer bindings come off and he tries to cope with his two very twisted fingers on one hand each. "Motherfucker."

Keaton had a kick to the groin that he still felt but other than that was alright, and Lena herself still felt her neck a little too cramped for comfort, but she'd live. Same for Breeze, who was the wholiest of them at the time and seemed really thankful.

There was also the oddball. A girl who was there with them but didn't look like a runner at all. The second voice nobody recognized, but she was free either way, with a few bruises on her head too. Probably introduction was due.

Those of you inclined to look trough the room actually find a table behind the chairs that had most of your equipment there - anything that resembled what seemed like guns was actually removed from them.

"Now ain't that convenient." Skylar says as she hurries to equip herself with her gauntlet back on her knuckes.

edited 14th Dec '16 1:21:36 AM by Kyef

Keaton walked over, kicking Lewis so he rolled over. "Wasn't Lewis." He deadpanned before walking and getting dressed. "Kid was a little shit."

He looked at the others. "Who are you all?" He asked, spinning his karambit on his pinky finger.

"There isn't much time left. We can leave the introductions to later. First, we deal with the problem at hand." Just as he had finished his sentence, Watson did a jump and flicked his ankles in mid-air. When he was back on the ground, his shoes had wheels beneath them. He adjusted himself before skating off. "Come on."

edited 15th Dec '16 4:47:47 AM by 37court

"Did they hit your head too hard in there, kid?You were just caught with those people on the docks" Drake voice sounds trough the comms you pass around and equip on your ear, and it instantly feels you with relief - The runners with comms, that is.

"I'm tracking you now using Faith's route trough the place. You're on PK lair. Sirens will sound and those runner cops will be closing in on you any second - get-going-people!"

Ilena's shoulder heaved as she saw that everyone else in the room was relatively unharmed- save for the interrogation technician on the floor that, she gagged a little with the thought, was murdered by the very man that claimed to have arrived to save them.

She grew a little queasy as she pushed the image of the dead man away, focusing her thoughts on checking on her fellow captives first and getting her belonging back to where they belong- on her harness, belt and in her pockets. As she put on her headset and earpiece, it cracked to life and for the first time in a stretch of stressful events, a familiar voice! Listening attentively, she nodded to the voice in her comm in a silent affirmative to no one in particular.

A quick check made sure nothing was lost- and kept her eyes away from the bladed implements her erstwhile friends have in their hands. A second glance and a little load lifted itself off her mind- nothing was lost, including her phone and tablet. An appreciated relief nonetheless, considering the slight throbbing in her head from when she was caught quiet earlier on. Making sure her rigging were secure and all her kit are accounted for, she gave one glance to the cooling corpse of the PK on the floor and muttered a quiet "Sorry." Then she took off, running after the man like her life was depending on it.

Watson turned every few seconds or so, making sure the runners kept up. Eventually, they reached a monitor overlooking the facilities and the city. The surveillance room. "All accounted for?" he asked. The African-american gave a sharp nod. "Good." Watson turned to face the screen. The sun was rising, glowing a beautiful orange against the towering skyscrapers. The light shone against him, showing off his full-body tattoos. He turned back to face the runners. "Alright, im supposed to escort you guys to my cabal's hideout to lay low for a while. The underground tunnels will be troublesome for most PK forces. It's not fa-" He was cut short by the sound of a door being kicked open. Two PK runners emerged from the doorway. "Fuck." "Run."

edited 18th Dec '16 1:16:44 AM by 37court

"Someone's whose family was murdered by someone mixed up in this, I think," Amanda said by way of reply, which may go some way to explaining why she seemed loopy. Or maybe it was just the torture. Her USB drive was gone which was no surprise, and aside from that there was the clothes on her back and little else. "Maybe whoever is behind what all this is has answers."

And besides which, Amanda mused, someone here probably wants to try the same thing we went through to get those answers. It didn't have to be her, but someone would be nice.

"I was afraid what we went through is exactly the sort of thing someone in authority is responsible for. Who wants to find out what makes them that desperate?"