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Wishalloy. Factory. Rogue subnaturals. Clearance to remove the cuffs. Deterrence against escape. Positioning. Isolation. Support and finish. Knowledge tumbled in his mind, puzzle pieces that never perfectly fit together. His ‘training’ with Gregory was pointless now. They would be positioned in different areas, taking the high ground in order to snipe enemy clockworks that may prove to be troublesome to the support team that was tasked with thinning out the horde.

Thinning out the horde that the titanic human spewed out constantly, endlessly. It was 2PM. No need for his night vision goggles. Gas leaks were a dangerous possibility. A need for his gas mask. He was ranged support. A need for his Desert Eagle. Close combat was dangerous without a dedicated weapon. A need for his machete. Wishalloy provided much of the same protection, but broke apart after multiple impacts. A need for his vest. They were in an urban environment. A need for his rollerblades.

There were many things he needed, much more than anyone else within the group, and the belt that the soldiers provided brought a smile on Brent’s face. Something to carry many things. He needed that as well. Pepper spray could be good to disable a human enemy. A baton provided bludgeoning force in case there was something he’d rather not cut. A knife to pierce, as opposed to cut.

“Hah,” he laughed to himself, “Slowly becoming a walking armoury, huh?”

But he wasn’t done yet. He was Brent Roless, the Arbiter who was only useful if he had objects to Overclock. He needed more. A scope to improve his accuracy further when it came to long distance attacks. Rappelling gear that could be overclocked to provide a swift descent if clockworks were rushing up the stairs. What else? His eyes scanned over the weapons available in the truck as everyone filed in. Machine guns. Sniper rifles. Flamethrowers. Rocket launchers. Everything that had been denied of him in his request was there, and after asking one of the soldiers, he was basically given permission to take them along, provided he could carry them?

It was too good to be true. It was too ridiculously tempting. Flamethrowers overclocked to generate enough heat to melt hordes of monsters to slag. Sniper rifles to pierce through an entire army and strike the very heart of the Factory. Rocket launchers to generate massive amounts of explosive power. But…

If he were so prone to falling to temptation, he’d just be a loser with an addiction.

His job was to provide support. Not to try to match Hazel in kills. His Desert Eagle, the one firearm that he had extensively practiced with, experimented with, will have to do.

Well, all this shit was pretty damn heavy as well.

After awkwardly loading everything up on him, Brent definitely looked like some sort of B-grade serial killing kleptomaniac, equipped with more weapons than he had limbs. If he could see himself, he would doubtlessly be laughing at himself, but as it was...all these things would give him a slightly higher chance of survival, a little more adaptability in a bad situation. There was no way he’d be able to pull off any sort of stealthy tactical maneveurs with rope slapping against his butt and all the things that were attached to his belt, was there? He’d probably be in deep shit if he had to hide, huh?

Brent slapped a helmet on his head, sat down as comfortably as he could, and let out a deep sigh. Google Maps had already told him the obvious: that the trip to Wisford would take at least three hours. He’d have to take all this off again in order to apply the wishalloy, huh?

“Welp, just how it is.”

His right hand loosely held the phone that they had been given.

His left hand remained in his pocket, tightly clenched.

His eyes stayed in place, transfixed by a target that only he could see.

No hesitation.

It was still three hours before the mission began.
In Deep Ground Online 12 Apr 2017 21:09 Forum: Casual Roleplay

“Yeah, would be super nice going up against that type,” Moe agreed, “Gotta show those foreigners why Purple Crown is the place with the biggest badasses in DGO.”

Any further discussion about this mysterious idol figure, however, had to wait as the brightly-colored duo entered the noodle stand. Whistling at the advertisement that promised ‘extra large’ variations of anything they wanted, Moe took a deep breath of the aroma next, her stomach gurgling again. It was truly a shame that there wasn’t any sort of ‘food challenge’ advertised, such as finishing an extra-extra-extra large bowl of ramen in 15 minutes, but…well, this was free, so it’s like she already won!

“Master,” she said with a toothy grin, “Gimme the fattiest pork you got!”
Bouncing up and down on her seat as the cleanly-dressed chef got to work with preparations, Moe’s eyes glittered as a plus-size bowl of calories was presented to her, the steam warming her face as she dipped a spoon into the broth and took a sip. Too bland for her tastes…but still amazing! Following that up by dashing chili flakes all over her meal until it was as red as hell, the girl swallowed once before getting to work, slurping away at the spicy hell. No doubt, her weight was going to bear her sins, but…Moe was a growing girl!

Surely all the fat will relocate into her breasts, right?

Letting out a satisfied sigh after finishing half the bowl, Moe turn to Itsuko and realized that the blondie was already onto a next one. Wow. No wonder she had no girl friends. A godly metabolism like that was definitely something worth getting jealous over. Fascinated at how quickly she ate, Moe asked, “Yeah, it’s super good. Gotta share this place on my feed some time, but…wow, you a food eating champion or something? Can’t tell if you can even taste it at your speed.”

“…and tch. Got to fight but also got wrecked. Mannnnn, the speed meta suckssssss.”

She groaned some more, before bringing the bowl to her lips and shutting herself up with some more spicy goodness. At the end of it, there was a creamy red moustache over her lips.

“Seriously though, backliners and dodge-spammers. Super annoying, am I right?”

Curfew ended at 5AM.

Which meant that, past 5AM, he was free to do whatever he wanted.

If he woke up at 5AM in the morning and spent half an hour before and after to prepare and then rest up, he still had an excess of three hours before classes. And because his priorities was on attaining ‘skills’, he didn’t need to rest his body nearly as much. Callan, Sander, and Chris can become physical gods if they wanted.

He needed skill.

And that’s why he was awake at 6 in the morning, vicious rain whipping against the dark blue jumpsuit that covered his body entirely. A transparent, perfectly spherical bubble kept the rain off his face, the rain sliding right off the non-existent material, while, within that bubble, futuristic shades covered his amethyst eyes, filtering out the rain from his vision and turning ‘living’ beings into blobs of color.

An overclocked raincoat, keeping him dry, warm, and undeterred by the rain.

Overclocked infrared night vision goggles, allowing him to find targets even within all this visual ‘noise’.


A magenta beam flashed through the torrential downpour, piercing through a concrete wall before spiralling into the right leg of a colored blob. It exited out the other end before the blob fell over, squirming. In this weather, at such a distance, Brent couldn’t hear the response at all. Which was fine with him.

This was just target practice, with a Desert Eagle overclocked towards accuracy.

Legs, arms, chest, head. If he couldn’t pick off six different targets from a more or less standstill target at this range, that was pathetic. Right. This wasn’t a ‘success’. This was not yet ‘winning’. This was just a rehearsal, for when such accuracy actually mattered.

He breathed out, his breath fogging the bubble momentarily. His fingers, the only parts of his body not covered by the raincoat, were chilled to the bone, but still, Brent leveled his aim towards the next targets within his vision, wandering aimlessly about within buildings. Their heat signatures disappeared as they crossed inbetween each window, but that was fine.

He could still extrapolate their movements, still predict where their limbs will be swinging.

More shots split the rain. Some missed entirely. Others missed their mark. A few hit. Rain steamed off the overheated firearm, and Brent lowered it, releasing a deep breath. It was enough for now. He could hardly feel his hands, and his accuracy was dropping with each shot due to that numbness. Still not at the point where he could decisively end a fight with a cracked head.

The stainless steel hand cannon was holstered and he pulled out his machete, just in time to hear a voice call out from behind.

Ah. Guards once more. Holding umbrellas that certainly didn’t prevent them from being drenched in the rain. One gestured towards the blade with his gun, and Brent sighed, sheathing it.

“Sorry guys. I would have come over if you just messaged me, you know?”

No response, as always. Wouldn’t hurt if they showed a little more personality, really.

“Well, whatever. Just lead the way I guess? I’ll hold the umbrella too. Keep us all…oh, right, you’re already wet, so it doesn’t matter.”

A bit too much? Brent laughed at his own jab anyways, before they started prodding him with their guns.

Yeah, maybe next time, he should bring a thermos of hot chocolate with him. Give these peeps something to be cheered up about.


There was nothing to be happy about.

Of course this was what they were brought in for, instead of having it be announced during morning classes. The blurred image of a monstrosity of gears and cogs, nuts and bolts. The announcement that this was a category three threat, something that was just as, if not more powerful, than the golem that Shane had turned into powder during a time that seemed so long ago. Except this one created more monsters, spewing them out like a demented factory.

A subnatural that had fallen so far, that hated this world so much, that it became a monster instead.

A clockwork titan that served as the fortress of the subnatural. The strikers should be strong enough to tear through such a frame.

An army of inorganic beasts. Unless something had changed, Hazel should be more than capable of cleaving through them all by herself.

A town turned to smithereens. Most likely, it was the supporters, the ones that had to help with evacuation while not possessing much offensive ability, that had their work cut out for them.

He was in a duo with Gregory, the ‘healer’ with that curious projectile ability.

“Long range support meant to assist both supporters and strikers,” Brent muttered, slowly internalizing the information. His hand, still cold to the touch, went for his gun once more, stroking the hefty grip. It wasn’t comforting at all, but it was still…what? An object that promised some degree of protection? An object that promised to make him ‘useful’ because he wasn’t useful by himself? Hah.

This was going to be fun.

A meaningless smile formed as the meeting was adjourned and everyone was lead to the cafeteria. His head was already spinning, already thinking, spitballing all sorts of ideas. Sophia to track down where exactly that subnatural was within that clockwork giant, if they were there at all. Hazel to turn into the ultimate shield, leading Allison over to the point that Sophia detected.

And from there?

All Allison would need to do is graze that subnatural with her own sword, and all those creations should disappear. It would take time for that subnatural to regenerate that massive army. Enough time for the strikers to descend and turn that bastard into paste.

Then, unexpectedly, Brent recalled what had happened last time he thought of a ‘good’ plan. How quickly everything fell apart. How much harder everything was compared to the simulated ‘best’ scenario. How ultimately, he lost. How he failed them all.

Didn’t mean he had to be a bitch and give up just because of that, right?

Lean meats and fruity salads found their way onto his tray, filling it up halfway before Brent decided he wasn’t all that hungry yet. Spotting his extraverted kickboxing instructor, the Arbiter was about to call out to her, maybe make some joke about how she must still be sleepy if she wasn’t going about tracking down her team members and discussing strategy, before stopping.

Right, they could die before the day ends, huh?

He settled for sitting at the same table and shooting Angelic a small smile.


He wouldn’t push it if she wanted the conversation to die there.
Just did rolls for the hell of it.

Turns out I'm a 10 year old shota in a speedo, punching out monsters with gravity magic while working for an asshole of a lesser spirit. Also lugs around a fatass backpack with a familiar attached to it.

Might be worth.

Oh, tough skin eh? Nice, nice. Moe always did like someone who could take a punch, even if it was a verbal one that was basically half a compliment as well. And, like basically everyone else that mattered in Purple Crown Academy, of course the blondie was going to have complete confidence in the depth of her coffers. “Sure sure,” Moe chimed along, following after Itsuko with her arms trailing behind her. Maybe in a duo, the juxtaposition between ‘cool’ and ‘cute’ would be enough to convince the store owner to give them discounts due to attractiveness?

Naw, perverts like that would probably already be routed out of the vicinity of Murasaki City, considering how many abnormally good looking young students there were. All of them had a screw loose, of course, but still. Attractive crazies were better than ugly crazies.

Letting out a low whistle as a particularly handsome individual walked on by, Moe blinked when Itsuko suddenly spoke up. “Sorry, what was that?” she asked, an eyebrow raised. An idol coming over for a few days? What was this, an exchange program? Or maybe…

“Wow, she one of those eternal transfer students that just float around schools beating up the student body while they have no idea how her avatar works, and then transferring again once they figure out all her tricks?”

Moe tilted her head to the side. That was pretty negative, even for her.
“Or is she just planning on making her solo debut here? Dunno who though. Maybe just some no name member from KGS116? Probably would be on tabloids if she were anyone big.”
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