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Mind if I make it an even 10 people showing interest?
May 17, Somewhere in South Carolina, 7:24 AM

The crisply cool water of the creek soothingly chuckled among the rocks on a late spring morning. The dense verge of forest on the opposite bank was teeming with song birds, their voices adding to the relaxing splendor of the location. Above the creek ran an old steel truss bridge, only a few beams still maintaining a couple of stained, faded flecks of pale blue paint, the rest the slightly mottled, dusty rust-red. Duncan was hunched next to the stream, flexing his fingers in the water, wincing slightly as the water bit into the abraded bark of his skin. Wringing his hands together, he made sure he hadn't broken any bones, before slowly rising and shaking the water from his hands. Closing his eyes, he saw the distorted face of what was a man; and grimaced. It wasn't the first man he had nearly killed, he kept trying to remind himself that they were traffickers, of humans and deltas. Everyone from kids, to any Delta with a power they could sell, were they really human?


"Murderer." It fell from his lips with weighted breath as he crouched, bringing his hands to his temples. He likely was. The gurgling gasps of agonal breathing...He could hear it, echoing in his mind. He could see the room, the single dim light bulb, the child with sunken eyes, malnourished, yet so despondent, they didn't even seem to react to what they witnessed. There were three others he found in the chaos that came next. He left the two he escaped with outside of a hospital, and took off.

Electronic chirping pulled him out of his own head. He retrieved the phone from the pocket of his jacket, to watch it shut off from low power. A deep breath dragged in, shuddering, before he released it. "Need to move," whispering to himself, helped to motivate his mind. Rising, Duncan pocketed his phone, and looked over the serene view one last time, hoping previous night wouldn't tarnish this memory. Turning, his heavy boots tearing up some of the dew-wet grass, and sandy soil, as he climbed the embankment back to the road, where his beat up International waited. He paused to check the rear bench, clean. The bloody rag was now floating down the stream to wherever it may end up. He rounded the front of the large truck, and climbed into the driver's seat, the door slammed closed, with a bit of a rattle. The engine fired with the raucous clatter of an old diesel, and he pulled away. Heading south.

Following the last things he had coaxed the man to say, "Radko. Charity Beach."

June 11, Charity Beach, Noon

Duncan was still unsure exactly what he felt about Florida, the heat and humidity were strange, though the intense sunlight did make him feel more...alive somehow. He wasn't sure if he really photosynthesized anything, but he did feel like the bright sun invigorated him much more than normal, back home in Alaska. Still, he reclined on the bench, overlooking the beach from the boardwalk, his head exposed, with the dull brown scale-like bark-skin soaking in the sun, his dull yellowish-green hair, close cropped, shaven on the sides. He wore simple clothing, the lightweight, long sleeved hooded shirt of light grey, and a pair of durable blue jeans, over work-worn steel-toe boots. He took a sip of the bottled water he carried, and watched the people below. He was genuinely curious what this festival was going to be like, and torn between hoping nothing would happen, or that some idiot would decide that tonight was the perfect time to abduct another child, so he could have another chance of getting another lead.
Heh, it is something I had been toying with back in 2014, designing a modern light tank/tankette. Overall, it was intended to be a more modern vehicle, (Regular 50mm gun [Using case telescoped ammunition, akin to the 40mm CTA], not electro-thermal), a standard 3.0L V6 diesel, and a realistic top speed of 70ish mph. This is the 4th iteration of the design, had one that was finished, and much more detailed, but clearly designed for two crew, and armed with only a 20mm pretty good relative idea of how large the tankette I actually plan on using is. The one in the CS is a bit longer, but otherwise very similar height and width.

And yeah, the missing bits are WIP, just got tired as fuck last night and needed to go to sleep. Finish them in a bit.
Name | Jim Reeves
Age | 42
Gender | M
Ethnicity | Caucasian
Height | 200
Weight | 5'9"
Appearance |
Location and Date of Confinement | Chicago, October 26, 2211
Crime | Illegal Weapons Manufacture and Sale, two counts. Three second degree murder.

Mental Health State | Excited for his chance, and eager to show off his greatest creation

Personality/Habits |

Skills/Talents | Mechanical engineer, Electrical engineer, weapons designer, armoured vehicle designer.

Background | After university, he was recruited to a small armed vehicle firm, designing, making, and selling armed vehicles to corporations, security contractors, and militaries. However, after a couple of disastrous failures, the owner of the company shuttered everything, sold all the equipment to another company, and ran. Leaving 120 employees in the lurch. An outside company that had been holding some vehicles, trying to sell them, got in touch with Vingmar Dwase, one of the sales reps of the now defunct company, and sold the vehicles back to him. Vingmar, through a few family and friend contacts, found a buyer: The Santeria Cartel. He started recruiting people he knew, selling their services to the Cartel. Jim, was one of those men.

From rifles to armed vehicles, he made and helped to sell them to the Santeria Cartel, fueling greater violence in Mexico, and beyond. Eventually, gangs tied to the Cartel, based in the states wanted their own heavy equipment, as their feuds and wars were getting ever more violent. Jim was helping to broker the third deal, when they were caught, and captured by the FBI.

Name | Rigdog
Configuration | Vehicular
Class | Delta
Height | 1.75m
Weight | 7.4 Tons
Fuel | 120 Gallons of Gasoline (435 Miles)
Piloting Method | Reclined, sitting. Typical tactile controls for driving, voice command to direct the AI Fire Control
Appearance |

Rough idea...

Armament |
50mm CTA ETC main cannon. Can be switched at will between HE-FRAG and FPAP (Focused Plasma Armour Penetrating) ammunition. +51 Degrees elevation, -10 Degrees depression. Feeds from three, 15 round magazines in the turret. ROF of 200 RPM. Has 36 spare rounds stored in the hull, which must be loaded into the magazines, manually. FPAP can achieve approximately 320mm against RHA.
8x68mm Gatling Secondary. 4 Barrels, rate of fire can be selected between 750 and 4000 rpm. Feeds from a 4000 round drum, via a linkless belt feed.
Defenses |
Aluminum armour, maximum resistance to 20x110mm autocannons on the frontal arc.
APS that is fully automated, fires explosive, fragmenting warheads to defeat incoming projectiles (kinetic energy projectiles can be destabilized, however if they still hit the vehicle, they could still destroy it).
Limited Electric Forcefield, a powerful defensive shield that can defeat most forms of attacking the vehicle, for a limited time, before needing to cool off, and recharge the system. When activated, both weapon systems, and the APS are disabled, as the shield is indiscriminate of what it stops. In conjunction with the absurd velocity that the tankette can achieve, it is Jim's "Escape" card if he gets into a situation that he cannot fight his way out of.
Auxilaries |
Elevating mast sensor suite. Extends to 15m, when the vehicle is stationary. Equipped with optical, IR, RADAR sensors, and a RADAR of its own, is capable of detecting vehicles out to 20 km, and its maximum range is 42 km (IE, it can pretty much pinpoint a vehicle's location out to 26km, but further than that, it gets much less accurate, until at 42 km, it is reading "something, over there."

Special Abilities |
Enhance (Speed/Acceleration) x4
Shield x3

The RigDog is named after a "breed" of genetically modified canines used in dog fighting contests, the first cases of RigDogs being used, were in matches that were effectively rigged, as only a few people knew about the modified dogs, which is where the name came from. Since then, they have essentially taken over the illegal sport.

Like its namesake, the tiny tankette is a dangerous opponent. While small, and adorable, it packs a powerful main gun, able to deal with most most threats (given good positioning). However, one of the most absurd aspects of the vehicle, is its outright speed. Using advanced segmented polymer tracks, long travel, electro-pneumatic suspension and advanced drive system it is capable of in excess of 80 mph on roads, and 60mph over moderate terrain. With it's boost functionality, on smooth surfaces, it can even top out at over 120mph.

((Yes, I designed that tankette thing. Not recently, had the concept hanging around for 4 years.))
And here I thought it was only pilots who got the glory!
Are the vehicles loaded with all of the ammunition they get a the beginning? Or are they able to be reloaded at some point during the "Wars"?
Started by diving into some good old 36 Crazyfists tonight:

From there, looked up some other Alaskan music, and came across Bearfoot:

Then, figured I'd finish off the night with the best part of the Hobbit:

Frick the one that would make my character best is a friggin anime ughhhhhhhhhhhhh

Ruler inc nobody likes your frickin appearance rules!

You do not speak for everyone.
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