Holy Soldier

Project Crossover [Video Game Crossover RP]

@Lmpkio@Bright_Ops@DracoLunaris@Etherean Fire@Zarkun@Guardian Angel Haruki@WingsOfBronze@RokkuHoshi@Crosswire@Nerevarine

I had some IOUs to meet this weekend. This game is next. I've been contemplating starting one of the Alpha missions...but I wanted for both Alpha missions to run to give all players something to do. I may hold off unless our new co-GM would like to volunteer to run one since his character is in Delta any way.

Who Believes In Fairytales?

Location: G' Whiz Sweets Shop

Ding! Ding!

Hunched over a wooden work desk with what appeared to be a pistol magazine, but what was actually a PEZ dispenser, was Hansel. The bounty hunter had several pill-shaped candies on his desk that he was feeding into the cartridge. Currently, he was feeding mints into it.

Ding! Ding!

“Gretel! Jemand ist am Schreibtisch! (Someone is at the desk)” Hansel informed loudly.

Hansel raised the light-blue pill before his caramel eyes, inspecting it for chips or protruding fragments. The last thing he wanted was for his dispenser to get jammed.

Ding! Ding!

“Gretel!” Hansel shouted. He paused, listening for a response, and when he didn’t get one, he sighed in exasperation.

The G’ Whiz was her sweets shop and yet he found himself working the front more than her. Setting down the magazine and tart, Hansel scooted back in his wooden chair and stood. With an irritable scowl on his face, he walked over to a white apron he had hanging up on an iron nail and donned it. Grasping the ties, he drew them behind his back and tied them into a slipknot. His footsteps were heavy on the wooden floorboards, creaking his way up from the basement to the shop above. Opening the basement door, Hansel closed it behind him and turned into the next open room to where the register and glass case with various sweet things were. Standing on the other side of the glass case, was…the most gorgeous babe he had ever seen!

The girl stood before the glass case in a white dress with a puffy skirt. The dress had a corset built into it that cradled her bosom like two marshmallow buns. Her stark-white hair hung like a curtain from her head and was cut to frame her face. It didn’t seem like her natural hair color for her brows were a dark brunette, but it didn’t distract from her overall beauty. Heck, even Gretel was a fake-blonde (good thing she can’t read minds…wait). Her eyes were large and blue like a doll baby’s and she had appeared to be frustrated until she noticed Hansel. Her pink, bow-shaped lips curled into a warm smile as though she were excited to see him. Folding her hands in her lap, the darling greeted:

“Good Evening, Sir!”

Did he have a grin on his face? He did didn’t he? Hansel brought a hand over his mouth to hide the lewd happy smile that had been on his face. He then turned his head to shout over his shoulder:

“Gretel, I got it! Don’t worry about it!”

It was time for the Candy Man to work his magic. Hansel stepped up to the counter with a lopsided smile on his face.

“Evening. What can I do for you? Everything I hope,” said Hansel.

The girl seemed to catch on to his flirt rather quickly as her cheeks flushed pink. Her hand rose to her mouth to hide her amused smile.

“I was craving something sweet, and then I saw your shop…”

“You’ve come to the right place. Is this your first time?”

“Yes. I don’t think I’ve been here…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

The girl brought both hands to her face to hide it as it glowed in her embarrassment. Hansel grinned at her reaction and figured that he should reel it back a little.

“Sorry I don’t get too many hot customers. I’ll behave myself,” Hansel promised.

The girl lowered her hands so that her blue eyes peeked over her fingers at…she read the name tag on his apron, “Hansel.” Dropping her hands from her face, the girl tossed her head to throw a few layers of her white mane over her shoulder. She tried to hide her smile behind a firm and mature expression as she said, “Well, Mr. Hansel. I am looking for some chocolate turtles. They’re my absolute favorite.”

Hansel picked up a yellow notepad next to the register and slid the pencil free from its spiral binding. He jotted down “chocolate turtles” and “favorite” and paused to look up.

“Favorite; go on…” he said innocently.

The girl arched a brow at him and turned her back on him. “Maybe I’ll just go look for them myself.”

Setting the pad down, Hansel bent over to cross his arms on the countertop. Resting his weight upon his forearms, he watched the girl as she browsed the store.

“The turtles might be on the shelf you’re facing.”

The girl paused and looked back at him before she then looked forward at a shelf with several rectangular shaped boxes stacked on it. She curiously walked over to it, picking up the first one that read Assorted Chocolates.

Resting his chin in his hand, Hansel directed, “A little lower.”

She put the chocolates back and checked the second shelf.

“Lower.”

Hansel’s brows slowly rose when he noticed the more the girl bent over the higher her dress seemed to rise. Lifting his chin from his hand, the bounty hunter watched her closely.

“Just a little more. Lower…looo~wer. Lower.”

The girl realized what Hansel was trying to do when she felt some air catch under her dress. Hansel was gripping the glass case as his metaphorical tail started happily wagging. He saw some frilly panties and the start of her cheeks until she suddenly killed it by crouching. Hansel groaned, grasping his heart and turning away from the counter as though he had chest pain. How could she do that to him!?

So close… Hansel whispered to himself.

After finding the box of chocolate turtles, the girl stood and walked back over to the counter, staring at the store clerk’s back while he was leaned over, clutching the back wall in what appeared to be pain.

The girl’s brows rose curiously. “Are you all right, Mr. Hansel?”

Hansel dragged a hand down his face and turned back to face the girl with another innocent grin. “Just a cramp. I’m good. Is that all?”

She glanced down at the assortment of cakes in the glass case, and then slightly leaned down to get a closer look. Hansel peered down at the cakes with her…more like down her cleavage. Her breasts looked ready to spill from her top, spill out like jello pudding. Oh God…this girl and some pudding was sounding very delicious at the moment. His conscience was already yelling at him to behave himself. Suddenly the glass case came rushing toward his face. His forehead smashed against the glass, cracking it and startling the girl. Latched onto the back of Hansel’s head was the hand of a really large black man who looked absolutely pissed off. He wore a black tank top with black jeans and Timberlands. Black was just his theme it seemed. His lips were twisted into a vicious scowl as he growled, “You son ova’ bitch. You think I didn’t see you peepin’ at Peep!”

Hansel slowly turned his head to the side so that the side of his face was smashed against the case. Blood was streaming from a cut on his face from the glass having cut it.

“Peep? As in Little Bo Peep?” Hansel questioned.

“Yeah, and I’m her Sheep she keeps puttin’ an ad in the paper about, Sucka’. Except she don’t really lose me. She just got short-term memory loss. She won’t remember yo ass tomorrow. I’ll make sure ov’ that.”

Short-term memory loss? That was…spectacular news! Bo grasped Sheep’s forearm and looked up at him.

“Sheep! Let him go. I don’t want you going to jail again.”

Sheep wrinkled his nose down at Hansel and pushed off his head as he withdrew his massive hand. Hansel bore his teeth, wincing as he slowly slid off the counter and sank to the floor. Bo gasped and quickly rounded the counter to crouch at Hansel’s side and inspect the cut on his forehead.

“I am so sorry! I forgot that he came with me,” Bo apologized.

You forgot that Big Bastard? Hansel thought. Reaching a hand up to the counter, his fingers walked over to the yellow notepad and snatched it up. He over-dramatized the pain he was in, peeking up to make sure the Black Sheep wasn’t watching him.

“No; I’m sorry. He’s right. I wasn’t being a gentleman,” said Hansel pathetically, while he quickly scribbled down his number and “Call me” on the notepad. Bo peered down at the message and quietly tore it from the pad as Hansel talked over the sound of the page ripping. “Just take the turtles for free. On me. I won’t call the cops on Blackie.”

Sheep snatched up the chocolates and snarled, “Let’s go Peep!”

Bo folded the message and tucked it into her cleavage. “Again I’m sorry, Mr. Hansel, and thank you.”

She stood and quickly followed Black Sheep out of the sweets shop as he scolded, “Next time you want somethin’ sweet, go to the other place (The Goody Basket)!”

Hansel remained seated against the glass case, grinning and laughing victoriously. The Candy Man scores again. The Black Sheep was right. She wasn’t going to remember him tomorrow or the next day or the next day or the next. Reaching a hand into his pocket, he removed a sucker and twisted the wrapper free before inserting it into his mouth. Crossing his arms behind his head, Hansel just smiled as he thought about all the naughty adventures he was going to have.

Who Believes In Fairytales?

@Drag@CrosswireI've been doing my RP rounds before the week starts up again. This game is next so I'll be working on a Hansel post. I plan to use two NPCs: Lil Bo Peep and Black Sheep (her "supposed" lost sheep).

Average Joes of the Verse

@Ink Blood

Merine and The Guardians

Name: Pisces
Lifespan: Several, several, several thousands of years like dinosaurs
Physical Description: The Pisces resemble a cross between a giant shark and a dragon. They have no limbs only razor sharp fins that resemble ship sails that they use to slice through other predators and long antennae that actually pick up electromagnetic frequencies (ie. ships). Their wide mouths can swallow ships and crush meteors. They have four sets of triangular teeth made for rapidly dicing up their food. The hide of a Pisces is so sturdy that it cannot only withstand the pressures of the deepest ocean trench, but the vacuum of space, making their hides extremely valuable. If one were to actually kill a Pisces, then their hides could be used to reinforce the hulls of ships and other armors. However, no ship has ever been able to catch one neither alive nor dead. The Pisces, despite their size, are capable of moving swiftly through water and are capable of breaching the atmosphere of their planet to chase their prey. The Pisces’s gills expel an alcohol that ignites from the friction of the molecules being forced through the vents. The combustion then gives the Pisces a jet propulsion capability that will carry the creature literally into space. The Pisces will not swim too far from their planet, and so after a few kilometers, they will lose interest and return to their home. Between their spade-like scales are what appear to be millions of white worms. The worms are actually cilia that allow the Pisces to sense irregular shifts in their surroundings. A ship breaching the surface of the planet can be detected by a Pisces 2 km away. A ship drawing close enough to be sensed by the Pisces antennae, ie. The Graveyard; can be detected by a Pisces unless the ship were to cut off all power generators and drift. The Pisces have a total of twelve eyes. Four are at the Pisces’s mouth. Two on the upper jaw and two on the lower. Three trail away from the Pisces’s jaw in the direct of its tail. The last two eyes are at the bend of its tail. One eye is on top, and the second is bellow on its abdomen. The eyes are not prominent. They are black spheres meant to blend in and be missed among the waving grass-like cilia. [Reference: [Image]]

Genders: The female Pisces are the largest and most aggressive. It is a tossup on whether they are the primary destroyer of ships or not for even male Pisces have destroyed ships. At maturity, the female Pisces begin producing eggs. It is because of the eggs that the female Pisces grow to gargantuan sizes. They are literally full of eggs, and if they cannot find males to pass the eggs onto, then they become extremely bitchy as Jim would call it. The eggs function similar to a virus. The females will chase down a male, wound the male until it can no longer run, and coil around the male similar to a beta fish in copulation. The male is then injected with a tubular genitalia that passes the egg from the female’s egg stores into the male. Males can carry at maximum 1,000 eggs. A female Pisces will often not be satisfied until she has copulated with at least 10 males to get rid of her eggs. Once a female Pisces has gotten rid of her eggs, then she becomes prey to be devoured by pregnant males trying to feed their young. The eggs, within a male duplicate the male’s genome, and whether or not the fry become male or female is random. The egg will develop inside the male until the fry stage before they will eat their way out of the male. Young Pisces are protected by larger Pisces because they are the future of the species. When they mature, then they become predator or prey just like the adults.

Legend tells of the largest Pisces, a goddess, called “The Empress” by astrobiologists. The Empress is the largest Pisces. She is immortal as far as aging and forever produces eggs. Unlike the usual female Pisces, The Empress is docile and nonaggressive. When she’s nearby, she releases a sonar-like song called “The Siren’s Song,” which calls all males to her. Male Pisces find The Empress irresistible and will willingly swim up to her to be impregnated by her. The Empress, however, does not coil like the females due to her size. She doesn’t have to for the males impale themselves on her birthing tube. Males cater to The Empress feeding her other creatures when she’s hungry or even willingly sacrificing their own bodies to feed her (the non-pregnant ones at least). The males answer her every beckon, thus why the astrobiologists consider this behavior to be similar to royalty. The Empress, unlike other Pisces, carries a unique bioluminescence of greens, blues, and purples that she will flaunt about her scales. A female becoming an Empress is extremely rare. There is about one every million years, and when a rival Empress is born, the females will battle to the death. When a Pisces dies, their carcass is often devoured by other Pisces. When an Empress dies, her death triggers a feeding frenzy among the Pisces. An Empress’s blood is so potent that Pisces from around the planet will detect it in the water and will rush to the carcass. It is essential that Pisces devour the Empress for her unique genome adds to the evolution and preservation of the species.

Homeworld: Merine is dominantly water. There is no land or even islands. There are no shallows and so the planet is completely sustained by the various creatures that reside there. Merine has no sky. The atmosphere is water, so basically Marine is a giant water bubble. The sphere is believed to be maintained by the three moons that surround it. The three moons are referred to as Guardians: The Red Guardian, The Blue Guardian, and the Green Guardian. The races on these moons protect Merine, and it is the gravitational forces of the moons that orbit around Merine that allow the planet to keep its spherical shape and not pop. Astrobiologists believe that if Merine were to pop, then several of its species with the capabilities of navigating through space like the Pisces will seek a new biome. This will turn the Merine creatures into invaders, which may not pose well for other civilizations. The three Guardians radically worship Merine to the point that they send their dead to the planet believing they will be reborn as Pisces. They study the creatures and maintain journals about the biome. Whenever a colonist vessel, warship, or any ship drifts too close to the planet, the Guardians do not warn the ship but allow nature to run its course. The ships and its crew are often destroyed by the Pisces and become a part of the ring that surrounds the planet known as The Graveyard. The Graveyard is every pirate’s; thief’s; antiquary’s dream come true. There is all sorts of salvage in The Graveyard that many merchants can make money off of. The smaller the ship, the better it won’t get detected by the Pisces. The day cycle is every six hours. The moons will rotate and blot out the sun, so the sun never rises or sets. For six hours it is day and for six hours it is night, and when a certain moon blots out the sun, it is that moon which will be seen glowing. The Red Moon, the Blue moon, or the Green Moon.

Society: Merine doesn’t have a society. It is basically one giant aquarium. The Guardians have societies that revolve around Merine. The Guardians are all predominantly into Marine science, living in coexistence with Merine, and worshipping the Pisces. Travelers to Merine would gain more knowledge by visiting The Guardians, but visitors are often destroyed once they decide to navigate The Graveyard to get to the planet. The Guardians do not make an effort to contact and warn the visitor ship for they believe in letting nature run its course. If visitors approached the moons first before the planet, then they would be welcomed by the peaceful, “fish worshippers” as they are called. They don’t really like that label, so I wouldn’t recommend it. The races on each of the moons correspond to the color of their moon. The Red Guardians are red-skinned and completely humanoid in appearance resembling humans. This is the same for the other two moons: blue and green. The three moons live in harmony with each other, sharing Merine cultures and worship, and are always developing new and innovative ways to preserve the species. The Guardians have never really had to go to war due to the Pisces keeping all ships at bay. They have only ever received visitors from peaceful colonies and governments. Even though The Guardians have never had to go to war, they prepare for the day when they will have to protect the moons and Merine. Believe it or not because of their mutual and harmonious coexistence and because of the spoils of The Graveyard, they were able to share their technology to fund a Merine Defense Force. The Merine Defense Force is under the belief that they serve The Empress. While no one of the current timeline has ever seen The Empress, there are ancient recordings of her existence. Guardians who claimed to have seen her whether physically or in their dreams are often called Prophets. The Guardians live in an equal society where no gender is superior to the other, and they are pretty open about love across all sexualities. This may be the most hippiest civilization one will have ever visited. The Guardians reproduce similar to Human, and it is believed that it was Humans who colonized the moons long ago. The red, blue, and green soil of the moons bled into the Guardians complexion overtime, giving them their distinctions. The Guardians are xenophobic and so never leave their moons. The Guardians utilize a democracy but there is no overall ruler of the three moons. Forums are held on either of the three Moons, and the Prophets act as representatives of their moons. All visitors to the moons are treated as guests until they prove otherwise, and all visitors to Merine are just chow.

Once upon a time, a Human colony that drifted too close to Merine was copulated by a female Pisces, believing the ship to be a male. Her tube penetrated the hull of the ship and pierced one of the colonists impregnating him with one of her eggs before her birthing tube was severed. The female became enraged and the colonists were forced to abandon ship. Escape pods flew to The Guardian planets and the Guardians were able to treat the Human colonists and return them to their space stations. However, one human was not allowed to go back for the Guardians realize he bore the egg of one of their gods. The Guardians treated the Human, John Parson, like a god. They gave him everything he could ever desire, but it was only for the sake of the egg inside of him. The Guardians learned about Humans through John, and learned how greedy they were. John became fat off of The Guardians worship. He breed with some of their females, producing half-Guardians that are called The Children of John to this day. The embryo inside John was able to develop into an adolescent inside him. It was during a banquet that the child was suddenly born bursting through John’s abdomen that Humans would find gory and horrific, but is forever painted about, recorded, and retold in The Guardian’s culture as a holy event. The child was half-Human and half-Pisces and was feral at first. They kept the child in an aquarium and studied him, teaching him their language and culture. When the child became a teenager, he learned that Saint John had been his father and that he had murdered him when he was born. While The Guardians found his birth to be holy and fated to happen by The Empress, the Human side of the child found The Guardians to be full of shit. The boy escaped his aquarium, escaped The Red Guardian Moon, and was never seen again. However, The Guardians know he is out there somewhere and eagerly await his return.

Alignment: The Guardians are not a part of the IFU for they never leave their planet and only selfishly care about their own and Merine’s existence. All are guests to The Guardians until they prove otherwise. All are food to Merine.

Gotham City: Shadow of the Bat

Left to Right: Stefano Calabria FC: Adrien Brody; Joseph "Joe" Miller FC: Joseph Gordon-Levitt

Something's Fishy
Tricorner, Decommissioned Naval Yard
Gotham City South, 0405

Flash. A bright glaring light engulfed Stefano, stirring him from his slumber as his hand rose to his face to shield his eyes. He squinted through his fingers at the flood light and the four shadows around it. One of the shadows strode toward him and swung a tin pail in his direction. Cold water slapped against his body, startling him into alertness. The other two men approached, grabbing him by his wrist and leg. A fist slammed into his face. His nose went numb as a sharp pain passed through it. Instantly, Stefano began to squirm, crying out in horror as he was dragged to the floor. He curled into a ball as he was kicked and stomped. A hand snatched his hair and raised his head as another fist slugged him in his right cheekbone.

A hand was raised, and the three thugs immediately stopped, looking back at the fourth man who sat in a steel chair behind a canvas and easel. The room had gone eerily quiet. Stefano remained hidden behind the arms that protected his face and his curled legs that protected his stomach. He was shaking all over, peeking through his forearms with horrified eyes. Was he still in the hideout? Where was Joe? Stefano cautiously raised his head and peered up at the men who stood around him like feral dogs. They were wearing nice suits, similar to the group that had attacked the docks. Oh no; had they been caught? Joe! What happened to him?

Stefano sat up further, using his forearm as support as he raised his hand before his eyes, squinting through the glare of the lights.

“Who’s there? What do you want with me? What have you done with Joe?” Stefano shouted.

The floodlight was turned off. The abrupt change in lighting caused Stefano to grasp his eyes against the darkness that dance before them in the form of black spots. When his eyes had a moment to adjust, the only light in the container was the white light cast by the lantern on the desk. The man behind the easel was completely obscured by the large white canvas. He saw a pair of long legs and a hand holding a palette of paints. Stefano’s brown eyes shrank, face paled, and a chill skittered across his skin. It couldn’t be. His jaw clenched tightly. The soft patter of brush strokes was the only sound that managed to wade through the thick silence.

“D…Dante?” Stefano wondered aloud with uncertainty.

The man’s second hand came into view slowly lowering from the canvas clenching a paintbrush. Stefano didn’t receive an answer. Again, silence. It was driving him insane! It was Dante! It had to be! Walking over to stand to the painter’s right was Joe, gazing down at Stefano like a saint did a damned sinner.

“Joe! Joe, what’s going on?” Stefano questioned. Joe would answer him!

Joe just stared at him as though he didn’t even know him. The painter finally spoke and his voice had been from a man he had once served. It was different. It was deeper and darker. It made Stefano uncomfortable:

“I’m surprised that I still remember your face. Do you know what I’ve been working on?”

The voice was nonchalant and empty. Stefano was immediately overwhelmed with grief for it was the voice of Dante Marconi. The Guilt and shame overcame him, causing him to weep pathetically instead of answer the mafioso’s question.

“Dante forgive me please!” Stefano exclaimed. On his hands and knees, he started to crawl pathetically toward Dante. “I regret leaving the family! I regret it!”

“Of course you would beg for forgiveness now, chickenshit!” one of the thugs growled before he kicked Stefano in the ribs. The attack triggered a series of assaults. Stefano curled into a ball once more, weeping as the thugs started beating him again.

“Stop!” the painter bellowed.

The three thugs quickly stopped and stepped back from Stefano nervously.

Dante asked again, “Do you know what I’ve been working on Stefano?”

Stefano shook his head as tears continued to roll from his eyes and strings of snot mixed with blood from his probably fractured nose. Dante stood, the tall six-foot-four man was dressed just as impressive as he remembered. Black suit, wine-red undershirt with a black satin tie. He had a silver tie clip, a nice watch on his wrist, and his suit was so crisply-pressed that his pants legs were like the edge of a blade. His eyes were hidden behind black sunglasses. He was bigger than what Stefano remembered. Had he put on some muscle?

Dante grasped the sides of the canvas and picked it up. He walked over to Stefano and stopped before him, holding the canvas parallel to the floor as he looked it over. After he gave the painting one last inspection, he flipped it over so Stefano could see it. There was a man in the picture with his wrists handcuffed to the faucet of a white porcelain bathtub. The man’s mouth was agape with agonizing screams for from the faucet spilled blood and it was on fire. The surroundings about the tub were an inferno. The man was him; and even after having not seen Dante in months, it was terrifying how well his boss remembered his face. He had captured every detail.

“No; no please!” Stefano cried.

Dante dropped the canvas on him and stomped his shoe against the painting. He smeared the painting all over Stefano with his foot as the man squirmed and continued to cry “No!”

“That’s exactly how you’re gonna die, Stefano!” Dante snarled. His lips rolled back as he bore his teeth like fangs in his anger. “You cowardly piece of shit! You would abandon me for The Penguin! The Penguin who tried to murder my family when we were starting out. Surely, you could have picked someone else to disgrace yourself under!”

Stefano slid out from under Dante’s foot and wrapped his arms about Dante’s other leg as he groveled, “Please forgive me! Take me back! Please! I won’t leave again!”

Dante gazed down at Stefano as his lips pressed into a straight line. “I never abandoned you, Stefano. But you abandoned me when I needed you.”

“I’m sorry; I’m sorry; I’m sorry,” Stefano wept, burying his face into the cotton material of Dante’s pants leg.

“Do you know what kind of Hell I had to go through to come back here?”

Dante glanced to his left and right at two of his thugs, giving them a silent command. The thugs nodded and quickly passed Joe as they left the container. Dante’s hands went to the first button of his suit jacket and descended, undoing each one. He rotated his shoulders, muscle shifting beneath the red material of his undershirt as he shrugged free of his coat and handed it to the third thug. As he started unbuttoning his cuffs, the low heavy grind of what sounded similar to a cement block being dragged across asphalt was heard. The two thugs returned dragging inside the container a white porcelain tub similar to the one Dante had painted. The thugs kicked the easel aside and stopped the tub in its place.

Dante had rolled up his shirt sleeves, exposing his wide forearms and the red, pink, and yellow scars that made up his flesh. The scars were thick and wavy, and though the rolls of his sleeves stopped at the crook of his elbows they went all the way up to his shoulders. The backs of his hands were similarly scarred. Stefano turned his head to peek up at Dante with a single eye as he continued to cling to the mob boss’s leg. He saw the scars where layers of his flesh were melted and stripped away.

“I’m not the same man you remember,” Dante told Stefano as his hand rose to the leg of sunglasses and removed them.

Stefano recoiled in fear when Dante presented his large, cybernetic spheres. They jutted from his head, the red pupils whining as they darted down to peer like lasers at Stefano. Stefano screamed in horror, crawling back away from him and earning himself Dante’s rage. The corner of the mob boss’s lip raised in a nasty glower before he reached down, grasping Stefano by his collar and effortlessly dragging the man across the floor toward the tub.

“No; no; no!” Stefano shouted over and over as he kicked and clawed at Dante’s hand.

Dante’s fist twisted into the material of Stefano’s shirt, his knuckles pressing against Stefano’s windpipe. Stefano rasped, choked, and kicked. Dante released Stefano’s collar once he slid him violently into the tub. Stefano’s back met the porcelain wall, and he rocked forward in a poor attempt to escape only for Dante’s hand to lock about his throat. Gasping again, Stefano felt the weight of his body pulling on his neck when Dante lifted him and choke slammed him into the tub. Stefano laid there winded, his legs sticking out of the tub. Two of Dante’s thugs reached into the tub to grab Stefano’s wrists as they yanked him into an upright position. They stretched his arms out toward the faucet and a third thug crossed the chain of the handcuffs around it before snapping them onto Stefano’s wrists.

“No! Let me go!” Stefano shouted, jerking back on the cuffs. He pressed his feet against the wall of the tub and pulled back, trying to yank the head of the faucet free to free himself. Dante’s thugs just socked him in the face to discourage him. They grabbed him by the hair and hammered his face with vicious punches until Stefano’s head dangled with ropes of blood leaving his nose and lips. The salt of his tears began to cause the wounds on his face to sting.

Dante had reached into his pants pocket to remove a cigar case and popped it open to retrieve a cigar. He slipped the cigar between his teeth as he returned the case to his pocket. He removed a cutter next and removed the rounded end from his mouth to give it a cut before returning it to his mouth. One of his men walked over to Dante to set a red gas can at his side. After returning his cutter, Dante removed a flip-lighter and took the cigar from his lips.

“I’m gonna send you to Hell, Stefano,” Dante muttered as he rolled the end of his cigar over the lighter’s flame. Once the cigar was lit, he returned it to his mouth and bent over to pick up the gas can. He began slowly pouring the gasoline over Stefano as the cigar-less corner of his mouth unzipped in a lopsided grin. A grey plume left his teeth on an excited hiss as he doused Stefano’s head.

Stefano coughed and kept his eyes tightly closed. The fumes of the gasoline were asphyxiating and he shook his head to hopelessly rid his hair of the liquid.

“Don’t kill me please! Take me back! I’m sorry!” Stefano screamed on strangled coughs. “Joe! JOE!”

Ah, shit, Joe thought as he watched Stefano. He didn’t want to be the last person on Stefano’s mind just before he died. The man was screaming his name as though he was his lifeline. He felt the eyes of the other thugs on him, but he never looked their way. Dante was going to light Stefano up. Even if he did try to save him, he didn’t know if he would be successful after Stefano had recoiled at the sight of the boss’s face.

Stefano was vomiting. He was hunched over in a puddle of vomit and gas. His mind was swimming. He was dizzy. The fumes would probably kill him before the fire did, Joe mused.

“Joe; Joe please. Joe,” Stefano begged.

Joe bowed his head. God damn it...

“The Penguin found Stefano to be useful,” Joe spoke. Joe peeked up to see Dante still pouring away. He continued, “You might be able to use that boss.”

Dante lowered the can, dropping it at his feet and grasped the fat cigar in his fingers, giving it a few puffs before he removed it from his mouth. “Has Stefano been sucking your dick, Joe?”

Joe continued to casually gaze down at the floor with his hands in his pockets. “You could still use him. He’s your best inside man.”

“I got you on the inside, Joe. I don’t need a fuckin’ rat.”

“I’m a nobody on the inside. Stefano was runnin’ the show at the docks when I picked him up. He’s still loyal to you.”

Stefano was no longer moving, and Dante suspected the fumes had caused him to faint. It was always better to burn someone while they were conscious. It wasn’t long before Dante’s thugs were dunking Stefano into the river with his handcuffed wrists still bound to the tub faucet that Dante had kicked free. Despite having rinsed the gasoline from his body, when they tossed him flat on the bank, Stefano still wasn’t moving. Dante leisurely sucked on the end of his cigar, his red eyes gleaming in the twilight. One of the thugs nudged Stefano with his foot before looking over at Dante and shrugging.

Slowly Dante’s eyes rolled over to Joe as a grin crept onto his face. “Go give your girl a kiss.”

Joe’s eyes widened momentarily before he sighed in exasperation. Was that what they thought?

I should have let him burn, Joe thought, but he hadn’t wanted his name to be on Stefano’s dying lips. It had just irked him.

Joe walked over to Stefano and crouched next to his head. He pressed two fingers to his neck, and then gazed down at the unconscious man. As much as Joe wanted him to wake up then and there, he knew it was too good to be true.

“You said I needed him alive, right?” said Dante still wearing a smile.

Joe looked back at his boss and then the three other thugs. One of them had a Polaroid camera and was waiting to take a picture. Joe scowled at the guy. The camera flashed and the thug grinned in amusement, snatching up the photo that came out. He delayed long enough. If he didn’t do something, then Stefano would surely die. Joe tilted Stefano’s head back and pinched his nostrils together. He then leaned down, paused for a moment over Stefano’s lips to whisper, fuck my life before he pressed his mouth against his.

Ooooooo!

The thug took another photo while they all chuckled away. The first breath hadn’t been enough and Joe was starting to get pissed off. He continued to give Stefano mouth to mouth until finally after the fourth breath, he coughed. Joe stood dragging his jacket sleeve across his mouth. Stefano coughed and wheezed, rolling over onto his side. His lungs were on fire and his head felt like someone had drove a nail into it. He pressed his forehead against the cool wet mud as he continued to gasp and suck down fresh breaths of oxygen.

“He’s yours now Joe,” Dante told him. “If he betrays me again, then you will have betrayed me as well.”

The mob boss swiped the cigar ashes away with his thumb before pressing it against the end. Whatever heat was absorbed by the rough callous on his thumb and he pocketed the cigar before he turned to head back toward the naval yard. Joe just stared irritably down at Stefano. What a thorn in his side…he hadn’t expected to really get stuck with him. The act had become a curse.

The other thugs grinned at him as they turned to leave. The one with the camera waved the photo and him giving Stefano the kiss of life.

“Yeah, you go wank to that,” Joe jeered. He then nudged Stefano with his foot. “Let’s go. Walk it off. You’re lucky to be alive. I thought I was gonna burn with you, and let’s get something straight. Next time you’re at Death’s door, don’t say my fuckin’ name. Call for God, Jesus, your mother, whomever, just don’t call me, got it? I only saved your ass because I thought you’d be useful to the boss and apparently, he thought so too.”

“My throat and lungs are on fire, and my head feels like it’s splitting,” Stefano groaned. “I think I would have rather burned than feel like this.”

“Oh don’t worry; I’m sure that’s still an option. You know, I’m responsible for your ass now. So if you fuck up, we’re both fucked!”

“I’m sorry, Joe.”

Joe bent over to grab Stefano by the arm and help him to his feet. He slung his arm across his shoulders and supported him as they both returned to the naval yard.

Project Crossover [Video Game Crossover RP]

@Lmpkio@Bright_Ops@DracoLunaris@Etherean Fire@Zarkun@Guardian Angel Haruki@WingsOfBronze@RokkuHoshi@Crosswire@Nerevarine

I'm going to start posting every Sunday (your Saturday). I know college for some of you folks is eating up your time, but there are a lot of games dying because of posting delays. What makes it frustrating is that the delay is temporary and not permanent seeing as when students are out of college for the summer, then they go desperately looking for RPs *eye roll* If you can't find the time to post once a week, then post when you are able to. I just won't be slowing the entire game down because of 1 or 2 people. It has to keep moving or it'll stagnate.

Gotham City: Shadow of the Bat

Left to Right: Stefano Calabria FC: Adrien Brody; Joseph "Joe" Miller FC: Joseph Gordon-Levitt

Something's Fishy
Tricorner, Decommissioned Naval Yard
Gotham City South, 0310

Their escape had gone smooth. Too smooth that he couldn't feel comfortable. Nothing went right in Gotham. It might not go wrong right then, but it always did later. Karma was a bitch. As much as he liked to believe he and the trash bagger had gotten away Scott free, he didn’t feel free. His nerves were encasing him and he couldn't escape.

“He’s gonna hunt us down,” Stefano muttered staring wide-eyed between his feet at the belly of the boat.

The former trash bagger looked back at him nonchalantly, his teeth gnawing idly at the corner of his inner cheek. He didn’t look bothered at all. How could he be so calm?

His associate shrugged and looked ahead at the approaching bank. He cut the engine and hopped out of the boat to plunge waist deep into the water in what Stefano felt was a good way to ruin a nice suit. Beneath the plastic he had worn earlier, the guy wore clothes a person wouldn't normally wear if they were planning to play in the sand. The man guided the boat onto the bank and tugged it onto shore. Stefano stepped off the boat into the mud, grimacing a little as his shoes sank into the squishy sediment. He wasn’t a diva, but who liked getting mud caked on their shoes? After glancing down at them, he looked up at the former trash man like a child desiring guidance.

The former trash bagger smiled and waved him over. “I gotta place not too far from here where we can shack up until things calm down.”

Stefano followed him. He didn’t know why he did or why he trusted him. The guy had a nice honest face, and he had helped him escape. He didn't have to do it. He could have left him there to die. Was he planning to hand him over to The Penguin as some sort of redemption? Stefano stopped and raised his chin a little as a defiant scowl weighed heavily on his lips.

“Who are you?” Stefano asked.

The former trash bagger stopped and gazed back at Stefano curiously. He studied his mannerisms for a moment before he replied, “Nobody important.”

“Answer the question,” Stefano said curtly.

The former trash man turned to face Stefano, tucked his hands into his pants pockets and parted his lips to answer him when Stefano snapped, “Take your hands out of your pockets!”

The man removed his hands and raised them in surrender so Stefano could see them.

“My name is Joseph Miller. People call me Joe,” Joe answered.

“Why did you help me back there? Why didn’t you escape and leave me?”

Lowering his hands, Joe smiled and explained, “I’m gonna be frank with you. I knew how important you were to The Penguin, and I felt if the cops had arrested you, you’d squeal.”

“What!? Me? Squeal!?”

“I said I was gonna be honest, didn’t I? So I thought if I saved you, I could turn you into The Penguin to save my ass…”

Stefano stiffened in shock. He knew it!

“...but then I realized The Penguin would just kill me anyway. As I said, I’m nobody. He has to put the blame on somebody and I don’t see him putting the blame on you. You got somethin’ he likes.”

Stefano deflated a little. “What are you gonna do now?”

Joe peered up at the sky in thought and stroked his chin with his fingertips. “Leave this shithole that’s for sh’or. I think I’m gonna go to California.”

Stefano began gloomily staring down at the ground again. What was he going to do? He didn’t want The Penguin to catch him. He was afraid of what the man would do.

“Can I go with you?” Stefano asked.

A large smile expanded on Joe’s face before he broke into laughter. “Man, you’re like a puppy dog. Hell no, you can’t come with me. Everyone will recognize your face.”

Stefano gave Joe a dejected look, distress creasing his face. “You really think I have that much notoriety?”

Joe waved a dismissive hand at him and grinned. “Nah, I was just fuckin’ with you. You can come with me I guess.”

Stefano exhaled a breath of relief on a laugh that the two shared. Joe was...a comical guy. Joe waved Stefano along.

“Come on before the sun starts risin’. It’s not far.”

They walked up the bank onto a cement turf to a naval yard that was long decommissioned. Old rusted containers and warehouses were stacked about claimed as housing by the homeless. Stoners were slumped in the doorways and dealers were dealing inside. Stefano gazed ahead at Joe hoping he wasn't planning on sharing the space with the riff-raff. It wouldn’t have been a bad cover, but it might have brought them unwanted attention. The Penguin had birds everywhere. They steered clear of them, walking at a distance that even if they were noticed, they couldn't be recognized in the twilight.

Unfortunately, Joe did seem to own one of the containers. They stopped before a red one that was covered in graffiti and sealed with rusted chains and a padlock. Joe grasped the lock and jerked the chains to make sure they hadn’t been compromised, and then crouched down to lay flat on his stomach. Stefano glanced left and then right, making sure they weren't being eavesdropped on. He watched Joe dunk a hand into his pants pocket and fish around inside it for a cardboard Starbucks card. He had two more drinks to go before he got a free one. Joe then proceeded to slide the card between the cement seams and managed to prop up a brass key. Plucking the key free, Joe stood and held it up before Stefano with a smile.

“Voila!” Joe presented with a pleased smile.

Stefano didn’t show much amusement, desiring more to get out of eyesight.

Joe faced the container and unlocked the padlock. He pulled the chains free, dropping them aside for now and grasped the handle to open the door. The door opened and before them was a simple rectangular interior arranged to be a room. There was a bed against the back wall with a steel bedpost, spring mattress, and a desk and chair against the adjacent wall. A lantern-style lamp was on the desk. Joe walked in spreading his arms in presentation.

“This is it. Suite 2B in the five-star Hobo Hotel,” Joe presented.

Stefano stepped in and out of Joe’s way when the guy swiftly passed him. Joe stepped outside to pick up the padlock and chains, and closed the container door. Dropping the chains and lock in a corner, he stepped over to the desk, cut on the lantern, and began rummaging through his pockets. He removed a Ziploc bag of cigarettes with a lighter and a pistol. Stefano’s brows rose.

“You have a gun on you?” said Stefano in surprise.

Joe unzipped the Ziploc bag and fed a cigarette into his mouth before he flipped the chair around and sat in it. He glanced over at the gun on the table and then up at Stefano.

“Yeah. Don’t you?”

Stefano didn’t answer that question. It disturbed him a little that Joe could have put a bullet in his head if he had wanted to, but then why would he? He had needed him before right? Joe removed the lighter from the Ziploc bag next and cupped the end of his cigarette as he lit it. Setting the lighter on the desk, he waved over to the bed.

“Go ahead and sleep. I’ll take first watch. You look like you need it.”

Stefano hesitated. “You’re not gonna disappear on me are you?”

Joe arched a brow at him and smiled through his cigarette. Grasping the fag between his pointer and middle fingers, he removed it from his lips and exhaled a grey sigh. “No, man. I promise I won’t disappear on you. I think it’s better we stick together. That way we both can make sure we won’t go squealin’ on each other.”

Stefano slowly nodded. He still felt a little apprehensive about Joe’s trust. It irked him how he seemed like such a swell guy. Giving in, Stefano walked over to the bed and took a seat. The springs gave under his weight, squeaking a little. He reached down to unlace his muddy shoes and slid his feet from them. He then unbuttoned his jacket and loosened his tie, removing both to set at the edge of the bed. Stefano gazed at Joe once more and then laid down upon his side, drawing his knees up a little. He watched Joe until he couldn’t no more, studying the man’s expression as he stared at the wall. No; he was thinking. He was deep in thought perhaps planning their next move. His vision blurred as his eyes grew heavy. He couldn’t hold them open anymore. Stefano fell asleep.

World Warriors: The Nomadic Fist (Quirky Fighting Game Influenced Roleplay)

Location: Hospital

---

Hospital Samaritano
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

It had been a two hour operation to stitch the child’s stomach and cleanse the various wounds that streaked his skin like crimson zebra stripes. The nurse approached the child’s hospital room to check on him, verifying the name on the door with her clipboard. With a nod, she grasped the doorknob and opened the hospital room door only to freeze in shock in the doorway.

Her dark brows leapt up her forehead and brown eyes grew in surprise. Lying in the hospital bed was not a child but a man. He filled the bed and the white blankets were haphazardly hanging off his lap and the edge of the mattress. The nurse frantically looked over her clipboard before her startled eyes returned to the slumbering man. Quietly, she crept over to his bed, hoping to inspect the hospital band that had stretched to near snapping about his wrist. This was the patient!?

The nurse continued to investigate the person before her. The cuts that had streaked his body were faint white streaks against his olive complexion, and the bandages they had wrapped about his abdomen were split in some places. The fact that she could even see his bandaged midsection led her to the shredded hospital gown that protected what remaining modesty he had. What was going on?

Her eyes trailed back up his body to his face and the sight of his grey, gleaming eyes peering at her through cracked lids made her freeze like a deer in headlights. Gideon stared at the woman as he slowly drew himself from sleep. There was a surge of ki signatures spiking erratically and stirring him from his rest. It was a shame. The hospital bed had been the most relaxing and peaceful break he’s had since he escaped Daedalus. The staring and silence between the two of them started to become awkward and Gideon slowly peered down at his body to realize that he had reverted back to his adult self in his sleep. His wounds had healed quicker than what the nurse had anticipated, but they weren’t going to heal completely if he didn’t feed his cells.

“Food,” Gideon requested weakly. “…please.”

The nurse slowly backed out of the room. She briskly turned and started back into the hallway, and Gideon hoped that she did as he requested. Pressing his palms flatly into the mattress, he grimaced as he weakly sat up in the bed. His body started to shrink, his bones, muscles, everything contracting into a compact child state as his ki diminished. The last thing he wanted was to lure whatever chaos was going on nearby to the hospital. What worried him even more was he didn’t know how long he had been in his adult state, and if any of his enemies had tracked him down.

The little boy closed his eyes. His body felt heavy and weak, and he concentrated all his blood flow and energy into the reparation of his damaged cells. Upon opening his eyes, he saw the nurse return spouting crazily in Portuguese as she dragged one of the doctors over to his room. Her mouth fell open when she saw the little boy sitting in the bed, the same boy the doctor remembered. The doctor looked at the nurse as though she was insane. The nurse tried to show the doctor the strips of stretched and torn cloth scattered about the bed, but the doctor thought maybe the boy had been frustrated or troubled.

The doctor approached the bed and asked Little Gideon, “What’s wrong, boy? Are you all right?”

“Hungry,” Little Gideon answered.

“It’s okay. We will go get you some food. I’m just going to give you a quick examination.”

Little Gideon nodded and avoided making eye-contact with the nurse. Last thing he wanted was for her running around raising hell about what she had seen. He hoped that she would just forget the whole thing. The doctor pressed the cold stethoscope against his chest, asking him to inhale and deeply and exhale. Afterwards, he removed the broken bandages and inspected the stitches on his stomach, noticing that the boy’s skin had strangely started to grow over them.

The doctor muttered to himself in surprise, his eyes widening as he probed the injury gently with his finger. The nurse pointed at Little Gideon, speaking frantically in Portuguese. Little Gideon suspected that she was telling the doctor he was abnormal. This was why he didn’t like hospitals, but he didn’t have much of a choice. As soon as he got some food in his stomach, he was going to escape.

Pokemon Gijinka [Always Accepting!]

@TalijaKeyYeah, I was getting tired of that bull lol. It was running me down.

Pokemon Gijinka [Always Accepting!]

@TalijaKeyI think I'm going to put this game down. It's lasted longer than expected, but with the inactivity, I don't see a point in dragging this on.