ONL

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski Location: Chapel (V) -> Standing outside of the Chapel Skills: N/A

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Alexander had stood up and walked away, simple as that. Away from Freedman and his confession which wasn't a confession, away from his friend and fellow Baby-boomer, away from the Chapel that which represented the only constant anchor in a troubled man's troubled life. At this point he didn't even think about it. His legs moved on their own accord, evacuating Specialist Polawski out of the shithole that was the jungle of Vietnam. He didn't think, nor speak a single word. He couldn't feel anything, refused to feel anything, until he felt the wet drops of water roll down from his grey hair and down his cheeks.

The rain. He stood out in the rain, helmet-less and without anyone to follow down a narrow dirt path. He was alone and safe, hard as it was to comprehend.

Come you Masters of War…

Alexander came to his senses, standing in the pouring rain and getting soaking wet. If Manny had passed him already or was close behind him, Alexander had no way of knowing. He'd simply blacked out, just like he'd done during Quarantine; like he'd done so many times before; like the first time it happened - May 20th, 1971. It had been a Thursday, the day before a Friday they would be over with their patrol. They had all been dead-tired and close to death so many fucking times. On edge, that's it. So that the blacking-out had returned, it troubled Alexander.

Ol' Mugsy stood for a solid minute, just trying to figure out…what? Alexander was looking for answers to a question he didn't know he'd asked. Had it been Freedman, or Manny? He…he did not know, and it scared the living shit out of him.

Alexander fell to his knees, one foot soaking wet to the core while the other was content being a peg-leg for an old veteran. Alexander, who had never slept as well as he did the last week and never felt more safe, was tired. Tired and scared. Scared of what he'd found in the basement of the Education Center, in the room Aeron had given him a key to. Tired of the relentless attack on his personal HQ and…and…Alexander could pull out his own hair, fingers grasping tightly at his own scalp as he tried to repel those manic thoughts. How much longer could he hold them back? When would he fail?

He'd already failed so many others.

Alexander struggled back onto his feet, steeled himself, and started walking back to his apartment. He needed to change.

And I hope that you die, and your death will come soon.
I'll follow your casket on a pale afternoon.
I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your death bed,
And I'll stand over you grave and make sure that you're dead.

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Nigel Cooper Location: Gymnasium (K7) Skills: N/A

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Nigel had gotten that kind of look many times before. The Look, capital L, when someone were either trying to decode the archaic lines which Nigel were performing of the stage that which was life, or actively thinking of him as a fool with too much time on his hands. Perhaps the Professor had been true, that buys never really grew up. Nigel was about to elaborate in clearer terms like the teacher he had been, when to his surprise Medic came to his aid in a most unusal way.

With knowledge.

"That…that is correct. It is not often I meet others I can talk about that subject." Nigel said back to Medic, throwing his support to the scholared man after Volt's snickering. Clearly in jest, Nigel would have rebuked the haughty words against those in wisdom and knowledge. The mouth-rivalry continued between the two of them, including references to cartoons Nigel had never heard, much less read himself. In the end Nigel added his own opinion on the subject. "Who says one can't master both the books and the battles? Fight during the day, read during the night, so to speak."

Nerva, the first of the Five Good Emperors. Having finished changing into proper training clothing, Nigel nodded in agreement to Medic's choice. "I can back you on that. Peaceful transitions of power is an underrated part of a functional society. I mean, 2000 was one precarious election year here in this state, and even that was mild in comparison. Don't know if I miss that or not." Nigel chatted along, stretching out like Medic in preparation for to coming session.

World of Light

The Heavy

Level: 1 (5/10)
Location: Lakeside
Tag: @Lugubrious
Word count: 926 -> (2 EXP)

It would appear that the physical presence of Heavy Weapons Guy once again was dominating the battlefield. Not only in the sense that he had knocked the Shield senseless after bypassing his very signuature weapon, but that his bellowing taunts had caused their enemies of BLU to cease their very assault on the RED Motherland, much to Heavy's delight. Standing tall and strong as he did, he could not help but look in a mix of joyous glee at the mesmerized BLUs, and with murderous hunger as he was still not ready to give their enemies any respite.

"What is the matter? Are you afraid? Shamed? I am still alive and eager to fight!"

Heavy's second taunt was so frightening to the enemy, that when he heard a loud bang from his side, the head of the enemy Assassin exploded into a million, tiny and bloody pieces of brain matter. Heavy as at first surprised to see his intimidation work as good as it it, followed by a deep and joyous laughter. "Ohohoho hahaha! That slaps me on the knee!" Whether or not he realized it had been their own Infiltrator firing that shot or not, it mattered little. Heavy's mood was only improving, and with a lack of enemies to punch, Heavy turned to the last sorry BLU that stood on his way.

The Vanguard. Poor, tiny baby man in armour.

Heavy lumbered forward like a giant Siberian bear approaching a foe, standing on its two hind legs and looking menacingly down at its unfortunate victim. This as too easy, but it would be fun nonetheless. Heavy, following the slowly retreating Vanguard, grab hold of his armoured left arm and easily picked up the tiny man. Vanguard punched and prodded at the Russian giant man, but Heavy only laughed at his meager attemps at escaping. Lifting Vanguard by his arm above his own head, Heavy lowered his other arm and curled a massive fist, shooting it up harder than a speeding freight train.

BOING

Vanguard flew straight up into the air a few yards, before plummeting down again and hitting the sandy ground with a thud. Heavy chuckled, looking down at his unmoving opponenty and taunting him one last time. "The burning you feel? It is shame."

As if right on queue came the Announcer's voice over the speakers, declaring team RED as the victors of the match. Heavy instantly looked up, cheering and laughing as always, jumping up into the air while he shouted "YES!" What followed could be best described as a circus bear with a surprising control over his own point of gravity, squatting down and starting to dance to a tune playing from somwhere unseen.

Heavy's Victory dance

After Heavy had danced around the Red Point a few rounds, the music ceased to play and Heavy stopped accordingly. The match was won, the battle over for now, and now they had a few minutes to fraternize with the enemy. Yes, Heavy enjoyed the heat of battle and knocking around some skulls as much as any massive Russian man armed with fists of steel and a minigun, but he was social as any other sane mercenary in his line of work.

The Shield, coming back to his senses, attempted to get back on his feet after Heavy had given him a good knock-out blow, only for a massive hand to appear before his dazed face. Heavy stood over his formed foe, extending his hand out to the fellow giant man like the good comrade his was. The Shield, at first sceptical, shot Heavy a smile and a manly chuckle as he accepted the help. With the help from Heavy, they got Shield standing on his two feet in no time, the shield proper strapped to his back. "I have to give it to you Heavy, you really got me good. But you listen to what Totem and Infiltrator says; without your precious Medic, you'd be…what do they say?"

"Toast. You mean RED would be toast? Maybe, maybe, but we still on this battle. It was good fight! I will make sure to give you fair chance next time, Shield…to run away! Ahahaha!" Heavy joked with Shield, hands clapping his own belly of Russian muscle and fat, wiping away a tear of laughter as he turned to find the Medic and give his beloved doctor a big hug as thanks for helping him.

As Heavy was about to shout out for his doctor, Soldier took the word and pointed at somewhere over Heavy's shoulder. Heavy, confused as to what in the world he was talking about, turned in anticipation to be pranked with like so many times before. Once Demoman had replaced his Sandwich with one made of only bread and salat. NO SAUSAGE! It had made Heavy as angry as a bull…wait, who was Demoman, why was he thinking about a black, Scottish cyclops, and why was there a giant camel standing next to their sandy, Egyptian battlefield?

"Oh oh…Is this new BLU weapon? Tiny baby men need giant camel to win? Doctor, what is that thing?" Heavy asked out loud, scratching his bald head as Medic walked up beside Heavy and scratching his own chin, looking just as confused as Heavy did. For that matter, everyone on the map looked in either wonder or horror at the giant, mechanical camel. Medic finally answered, though the answer as as enlightening as one could expect. "In my medical opinion, I have never seen anything like this before."

"Then this is bad. Very bad."

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski Location: Chapel (V) Skills: N/A

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Alexander continued to breath heavily, in and out with determined motions of his chest - A chest that carried a ton of weight, picked up over many years of living through the bullshit he'd been through. So much shit that it as enough for twice his lifetime, and yet he was still very much living his current one. Alexander breathed out one last time, not noticing Manny making his way up the stairs and joining their little confession. The black mass throwing itself against the barriers of sandbags, jungle logs and pre-fabricated bunkers he'd put up around his little HQ of mental stability, it had grown stronger over the past two weeks. On the other hands, perhaps his defences had been neglected, or simply worn out over time in safety.

Regardless, Alexander was growing tired of carrying the troubled past all alone. All the things he'd experienced; all the things he'd done himself.

"I don't…well maybe I do know how to tell you, Freedman. It is because…" Alexander fought to formulate the monsoon of thoughts and experiences crashing into eachother in his head. He stuttered, closing his mouth for a moment and biting down hard. The old Mugsy would have let it simply ebb out into nothing, before standing up and going to do some other shit. Beatrice would have supported his silence, while Thalia and Thana would have respected it. Sergeant Jackson would have demanded it, but Judith…No. She wouldn't.

"You probably know that Aeron…The General, I mean. We both fought in 'Nam back in our youths. I…I don't really know how to give it square to you, just that…" Alexander punched himself mentally, forcing back a trail of tears from escaping the iron shutters that were his eyes. He continued his confession. "I can't forgive myself because…because…"

Alexander was thrown back to a certain place at a certain time, or were it a culmination of many different scenes into one? Because to him it looked like Eden, the hellscape they had infiltrated and wrecked havoc at, except for the people they were fighting. They looked different, very different, enemies from a different time and place. Alexander was armed with the Coll 1911 .45 ACP, aiming it at what he thought was a Eden asswipe laying dying on the floor. It had to be, because if not, it as someone completely different, but who suffered the same fate. Pulling the trigger, the man was dead, calling out a name.

His name.

"Because what I did caused so much pain, so much suffering to the very children of God, and…What I had to do later, I don't regret. That is why I can't forgive myself. Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord."

Alexander failed to hold back a pair of years, flowing so gently down his cheeks as he said those words, not finally seeing and hearing Manny talk to the two of them. Feebly Alexander wiped those tears from his face and straightened himself, looking between Freedman and his very good friend.

"It was a war nobody with their right mind thought as just. Those who did had no idea what bullshit it was. Didn't even Court Martial me...hypocrits." Alexander said, and with that stood up and began to walk away. He had to be for himself for a while now.

"I see a red door, and I want it painted black. No colours anymore, I want them to turn black…"

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Nigel Cooper Location: Following Volt -> Gymnasium (K7) Skills: N/A

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Back to reality so to say, or back into the rain to be more specific. After having just come out of the pouring Gulf of Mexico-rain, it was back to jogging through and in-between the falling drops of warm rain Nigel had just escaped from. Nigel though to himself that he better just get used to it. After all, he was growing more and more fond of staying in CMB, especially now that he was making companionships with different members of the Floridian-Military civilization; Thana, Thalia, Joaquin and others. Now to prove his worth, with steel or fists.

Nigel was given his answer as they pulled up to the Gymnasium, nodding in understanding as he mentally attempted to bring forth his knowledge of the arts of martial fighting. Just their bodies, like Greek Pankration of the Olympics, of which Nigel had limited skills. He was a swordsman, not a brawler for Mars' sake! "No weapons, got it. I'll prepare myself mentally to face the iron fist of our local Amazon then."

The Gymnasium was as good as one could expect in the event of the world ending, so Nigel was in no position to complain about its state. Warm, but dry. They were going to sweat either way, so why bother? Nigel duly noted Volts' words and followed after him into the men's lockers, giving Thalia a look of "Let's get this fight done." It didn't take long for Nigel to follow suit after Volts and Medic, wringing off his clothes and revealing a worn but well-kept body of a warrior, some scars and muscle visible to those looking. Changing into the new clohes, he sighed audibly at what he should have expected.

Sportacus, the name he did not chose, yet was haunted by. Was this his curse?

"Well…It is a long story." Nigel would have preferred to not answer, but where would he go? That question would haunt him for as long as he ignored it, and at this rate it had clearly spread to the whole of the Camp. There was no escaping. "Two of the survivors I came in with, Wayne and Hank, decided it was a funny jest to call me after a cartoon character. I'd prefer Spartacus, a real historical figure, but I assume that galley is long gone now. I used to go by Hadrian, but…Oh it matters not."

World of Light

The Heavy

Level: 1 (2/10)
Location: Lakeside
Tag:
Word count: 1327

The battle was just beginning. No, not just a meagre battle, but a full-fronted war. A Patiotric War to drive out the neferious forces of BLU away from the Point in the middle of the desert battlefield, a clash of forces of red and blue. It was intoxicating! The Heavy bursts out in his loud, bass tone of laughter, surely echoing across the entire map and some distance away towards the pyramid and dunes surrounding them. This was going better than expected, though the Heavy himself rarely expected anything but a good fight. This was good, very good!

Heavy continued his suppressive fire from Sasha the minigun, watching with the greatest of glee at the sight of blue figures in the distance taking cover. "Cowards, baby cowards! Come and get me…" was Heavy's battle taunt, cut off by the next sight of something big coming out of the BLU's exit. A huge man with an even huger shield came ruining Heavy's day, the shield taking up most of his suppressive fire and allowing the members of BLU to continue with their advance. The Knight was right in his damnations. "Da! We must capture Point before big shield man do! Скорее!"

Two mercenaries of BLU were already at the point when Heavy had shouted to the Knight. Time as short, like Heavy's stubby little legs, so he ran as fast as he could fowards towards the enemy. The Soldier and the Assassin. Both focused their fury at the Heavy, who thankfully had been anything but an ordinary man, would have been very dead - Not big surprise! Rockets flew at him like the glorious Katyusha, and tiny Assassin of BLU lashing out at him with her blades. The pain was immense, but not more immense than the Heavy was, causing only medium injuries to the Russian Bear. Some of the rockets found their mark, fewer than the blades of the Assassin, like BLU Demoman, Sniper or Spy had caused him before. "Aawgh! Tiny Dagger Lady will pay!"

Heavy was ready to fight back the Assassin and Soldier as best he could, with a good pair of fistcuffs and possibly some good bite of the Sandwich, when his TEAM became great credit! From the cover of the side burst forth the Knight to mace the Soldier, while the Viking Raider took quick care of the Assassin. Heavy was for a brief second sad he would not get the joy of murdering them, but the sadness blew away as soon as it had washed over him. "The Point! Quick, get on Point everyone!"

The BLU Shielf was took quick for Heavy though, taking position on the Point. Worst of all he was making quick work of the Knight with too much of a mouth and not enough fist, according to Heavy at least. Breathing heavily and having dropped Sasha for his expected fight with other blues, Heavy was ready to face a rather painful demise at the hands of the Shield, only taunting him with a "It is GOOD day to DIE!"

That death never came, however, as Heavy felt a brief but sharp pain in his back. So brief in fact that it could only mean one thing. Heavy grinned broadly as he felt the healing power flow through him and watching his wounds bind themselves before his very eyes. His best friend in the whole world had just entered the battle. "Medic! You are great doctor! Let us kill BLU now!" Heavy shouted with morbid joy, picking back up Sasha and advancing on the Point.

It was time to do some heavy lifting.

The Point was slowly but surely turning red as Heavy and Medic stoon on it, revealing the RED logo emitted from the Point holographically. Soon the dynamic duo were accompanied with Knight and Raider, giving Heavy confidence that this match would be a victory for RED once again! "Good! Heavy was afraid this would be boring match." Heavy quiped back at the spooked Knight, feeling the weight of Sasha in his hands and the confidence in his fellow red team mates by his side. Outnumbered and surrounded? Heavy had to grin and chuckle. A deep, Russian, manly chuckle.

"They are no match for us! Tiny, baby men need more numbers than us to fight. HAHAHAHA!"

The sight of the Spartan charging into Shield's…well, shield, and Inkling dashing past and under the enemy team with an ink bomb. She reminded Heavy very much of his nemesis Scout. Friendemy? Rival? Something along those lines, if Heavy could remember who Scout was. GAH! Why were these strange thoughts so intrusive today? Heavy was there to fight, not think! Heavy shook the thoughts out of his head, turning to the Medic at the sight of a wounded Inkling. "Medic, care for Inkling! I have pain to give team BLU…"

An anger was brewing inside of Heavy. One not just brought forth by the slaying of two of their comrades, but by a primal anger that had rested in Heavy for many years. This anger he was about to unleash upon his enemies, both with lead and fists. "DIE COWARDS!" Heavy shouted at the top of his lungs, wirling up Sasha and unleashing a fury of lead down range at the Assassin who had made her presence known dashing back and forth in an attempt to unsmart the REDs.

It was too bad Heavy had yet to meet anyone able to outsmart bullet.

The gunfire surrounded the Assassin, yet was unable to ultimately kill her outright. Instead the cloak'n'dagger figure as forced to take cover behind an obelisk. Good enough, as Heavy then turned his fury towards the Shield. [b]Clik-Clik-Clik![/] Damned! Out of bullets! Heavy screamed out in anger, dropping Sasha to his feet as the Point turned completely red like BLOOD, charging the Shield. It was time to end this, as more of both teams fell around them. "You, yes YOU! I will squash you like bug!" Heavy taunted the Shield, raising both his fists up in a boxer stance, striking out at his shielded opponent with as much fury as he could muster from his Russian deep.

To the side of the Russian giant and the Shielded brute duking it out, stood the Spartan having taking up the fight with the Assassin. Behind them all still stood Medic, dillegently shooting Inkling with his healing beams after her grivious injuries. It was a bloodbath, nearly literary. Heaving loved it, truly loved it. Throwing his weight behind the next punch after the other, the fight continued around them. The Point was still red, but only for now. The Dwarf rushed at Knight, circling around him faster than any dwarf was supposed to hasten, while the Knight failed to land a crucical blow at his short-heighted enemy. Where the others? The Totem had fallen, defeated on the ground, while the Spartan got the stab in the back that only a true Assassin could inflict. A bloodbath indeed. How would this end?

Heavy's punches struck time and time again at the shield of Shield, each blow causing the fellow big man to kneel more and more. One last blow was needed to get the Shield knocked out, and it was Heavy's great wish to grant. After a series of blows from his massive fists, Heavy grabbed the side of the shield and pulled it towards him, causing it to flip enough for Heavy to lock eyes with Shield. Heavy grinned and laughed his usual laugh, showing his teeth to the soon dead baby man. "Nighty night, baby shield man!" With one last big punch, Heavy's fist flew straight at Shield's face, knocking the man back quite the distance, shield still held firmly in the man's hand. Whether the man was dead or simply knocked out was up for grabs, but for now there was only one big man left standing out in the field.

"RUN! RUN, I am coming for you all!"

World of Light

@Lugubrious Next round, as in perhaps a little collab after next update yes. I'll try to get a post for this round out tomorrow. It's been a tough week so far.

World of Light

@Lugubrious I'll try to write out the battle for now, perhaps next round. But for how long will the battle continue before the other heroes show up?

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski Location: Chapel (V) Skills: N/A

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Alexander's gaze lifted itself suddenly from observing the pool of rain water that accumulated around his shoes, looking down to the ground floor and seeing another person having entered the Chapel - Manny. He'd been so silent that Alexander's decision to speak with Freedman had blocked out his perception of his fellow Baby Boomer, now much to his shame. Looking down at Manny sitting at one of the benches, Alexander waved down at him and gave off a nervous chuckle. "Oh, Manny! Didn't hear you come in." It was a simple greeting to his friend, seeing just have much water dripped from him as well.

They were two old hounds soaking wet, and probably smelled like it too.

Ol' Mugsy had other questions to ponder hard on, however. He knew he'd been asked tough, inner questions if and when he decided to talk with Atticus, and now Freedman, but what he had been just asked was a hard answer to search his soul for. It was a damn good question, just one he had avoided answering for so many years. Had he forgiven himself? The hard, cold and black mass threw itself against his barrier, launching assault upon assault at his position he needed to defend at all costs. Failure was not an option.

Failure, for who?

Alexander took a deep, weighed breath at the question still lingering in the damp interiour of the Chapel, yet to answer Freedman as he was asked about the court martial. It was why he was there, wasn't it? Alexander lifted his head up to look at Freedman, hearing how he'd been on both sides of it before. Alexander commended him for that, for being open about his past. He did it with such ease, such graze and matter-of-fact. How?

"It does…the way it's been explained to me, it sounds like it. Being fair, I suppose, and I hope." Alexander feebly replied, folding his hands tightly and fighting the urge to look away from Freedman's caring eyes. Aeron had spoken about them fighting in a new war, one against the Dead. That much was true, just that Alexander never really had left the old war behind. "What? Oh, yes I…I think so. I don't know." Was that true? "No, never really spoke with the kid, only saw and heard him from a distance. Maybe I see myself in him, somehow. Can't say I did things right when I was his age…Never a court martial though."

With one last heave of his breath, Alexander straigthened himself up and looked emptily in front of him, holding back years upon years of assaults against his own defences, holding down the black dread deep inside of him. With barely a whisper, Alexander finally answered the first question Freedman had asked him.

"No…no I don't think I have. I don't think I ever can. Only the Lord can..."

"Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord." Alexander said to the dying man, slowly pointing his Colt at his head. "Forgive me Lord, but this one deserves it."

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Nigel Cooper Location: Quarantine (W) -> Following Volt Skills: N/A

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It as apparent that those having just been playing pool and poker had some history behind and between them, guessing from the tone of language they threw at each other. Verbal skirmishes, diplomatic insults and taunts charged at your enemy, all things considered it seemed light-hearted to Nigel. He himself was and never had been good at such oratory fistcuffs, save from the last incident with Thalia's cousin in the Mess Hall. Be it intentional or not, he'd made a friendly rival back then. If that relationship was going to develop into what he witnessed inside Quarantine, Nigel did not know truly if he found joy in it or not.

Okay, perhaps a little. A man of scrolls and swords, he still needed practice with the tounge.

Nigel turned to Volt after parts of the battle of mouths between him and Tesla, giving him a smile of appriciation as he and Medic were invited to join him and Thalia in the sparring. It was a pleasent surprise to be invited like that, like a Romanized Gaul being invited to visit a bathhouse. It marked another step into the process of integration, if not assimilation. "That would be great. I promise to earn my salt, so to speak. Lead the way." Nigel said back to Volt, beginning his march into what could become an arena, only to stop for a moment to take in Wayne being his normal self.

Some things didn't change then. Good, don't change too much, Wayne.

Following the small group of fighters, Nigel turned to Medic and Volt who in all fairness would lead their little battle. "So in what manner will we combat? Weapons or only fists?"

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski Location: Chapel (V) Skills: N/A

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Before the world had ended abruptly into an inferno of shit hitting the fan and just the worst of days turned up to 11, Alexander had gone to church on a regular basis. Regular, as in at least four times a year; Christmas, Easter, the anniversery of his father's death and once when Judith wanted to visit. More often than not he'd sit there more than those times, but he wasn't really attending. More than anything he was sitting in the back row, silently for himself as he tried to hear. Not the sermon up front, but a higher voice in the background. He never heard it, though sometimes he made himseld believe he'd felt it.

After the end of the world those visits had been reserved for only taking shelter in a church tower or something. It was only recently that he'd found the presence of God again, and still only in the sense of believing in his existance, yet without feeling Him. Attending the church services with Atticus had given him new vigour. Still, going to the Chapel made the barriers he'd constructed while out There come down, plank by blank, stone by stone.

Whether that was a good thing or not was yet to be seen.

Alexander stood in the opening of the Chapel for a good solid minute, hearing the voices of Bass and Freeman up from the second floor, but not hearing their actual words. Old habit of blocking out what other people said in church, people spoke of private matters there after all. He wasn't the older mother of an Italian New York family after all. He didn't notice Manny entering either, having stepped further into the Chapel as Freeman spoke to him from the second floor banister. A smile forced itself onto Alexander's face, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. "Well I had planned on speaking with neither. The Lord is probably occupied with forgiving me for all my bullshit…and I usually speak with Atticus, but…"

Alexander sighed, falling into deep thought with his eyes staring empty before him, as if contemplating his recent words. Sighing again, Alexander looked up to Freeman once more and gave himself up. "But I suppose you'd like to hear my old musings. At least you answer. I'll come up, if you don't mind?" Alexander said up to Freeman, finding his way to the stairs and making his way up to the second floor. Traversing the stairs with the pegleg was harder than normal walking, but with a little effort and puffing, Alexander found his way upstars. "Good morning, Freeman. I see today's court martial has caused quite the chance in schedule in the Camp. Can't be an entertaining change of pace, can it? At least I don't think so…"

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Nigel Cooper Location: Quarantine (W) Skills: N/A

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The room had been more occupied than Nigel had expected to be honest, now that his recent introduction into the room had given his eyes ample time to actually search for who were present there. Beside Ash and Thalia, whom he had directed his greetings to, he now saw several other residents of CMB and some not-so-long citizens of that military society - Most importantly Wayne and the child sitting on his lap. Again Nigel looked upon the scene with the usually psychotic Wayne, not docile as a lamb while he was baby-sitting, feeling whoever had written this drama had strange plans for them all. Or perhaps he had been wrong about Wayne after all?

Nigel gave Wayne a brief wave, greeting his old 'friend' if he could be called that, before turning back to the others most relevant to his presence in Quarantine now. Ash and Thalia, and Volts and Medic. It was apparent that Ash had the same idea as Nigel, settling down for an activity in order to clear his thoughts before the exercise of the law later that day. "Good, I thought the same. We're all going to need a clear mind if we're to be questioned; Da mihi factum, dabo tibi ius." Nigel responded in what felt like a rehearsed line, the outcome far more theatric than the intention had been. Though this he meant, for he would do his best to present the facts and nothing more. From experience he had learned to keep his emotions out of important decisions, however difficult it had been.

Like how he'd refused to leave Robert dead on the road at first, at least until he was certain the man was truly gone to the afterlife. However pious and trusting the man had been, he had been a good man.

It was at this point Thalia had accepted his proposal for a duel, though she had raised a fair point; with what? Fists and pool cues? The unintended sight of her unbuttoning her shirt gave Nigel an akward moment of embarrasment…Nigel averted his eyes briefly, looking up at Volts as he offered them to use the gym. "Perhaps…perhaps next time then, Thalia." Nigel answered her, then looking over to Medic and his wish to spar. Nigel wasn't sure if he should feel relieved or…something else. But he wasn't about to turn town a chance for some good melee.

"Good…okay, that's fine by me. Where do you want to duel?" Nigel asked Medic, stretching his arms in anticepation of finally wielding a weapon again, be it metal or wooden. Thalia checked with Nigel one last time however, reaffirming her wish to duel. The name she called him wasn't half bad either, giving him a reason to smile at her. "Praetorian, eh? I can live with that, you Joyous Poem."

World of Light

The Heavy

Level: 1 (0/10)
Location: Lakeside
Tag:
Word count: 850

"Mission begins in thirty seconds!"

Thirty seconds of waiting, thirty seconds too many for the giant brute of a Russian tapping his feet in great anticipation for the match that was about to begin. Well, from experience Heavy knew that it would be more akin to a bloodbath than a normal match, but really what was the difference? Heavy was just eager to get out there and give BLU a piece of him and Sasha.

Thirty seconds until the members of Builders League United would begin their very bad day.

Heavy watched Knight step forward to the orange gate just in front of them, apparently installed to "give both teams a fair and equal chance" according to some kind of list of rules. Heavy had never seen said list of rules, and if there really were, there weren't anyone to enforce them. All the better, Heavy always liked a good fight, not a fair one. Heavy put down his beloved Sasha, the minigun, and stretched out his hands, popping the joints of his massive fingers. The clock continued to tick down.

"What, there is smell here?" Heavy asked the Knight with curiosity, giving the air a good sniff as he tried to locate this smell. Victory? No, Heavy could not smell it no matter how hard he tried. He'd never smelled victory, and the smell he did recognize was not that which Knight spoke off. "No comrade Knight, that is only smell of Sasha. I oiled her just after previous bloodbath."

The next question and lines conversation made Heavy more animated though. "Yes, where is the Doktor? We must have Medic ready to heal tiny, baby Inkling and others, unless they hide behind me and Knight." Heavy quiped back at Knight and Spartan, picking up the minigun again and swirling the barrel a couple of rotations. The gun must have weighed a figurative ton, which Heavy managed to both hold and maneuver around with ease, though not invincible with. That is why he got more animated at the lack of Medic, for he missed his good friend's presence. Who else would be there to heal him and make him credit to team?

Heavy would have agreed on his prefence with the healing beam of the Medic, had not the Administrator's voice cut through the heavy tension that surrounded them in their little caged spawn. Three seconds. Heavy turned around, eyes searching for his Medic. Two seconds. Heavy faced the gate again, his massive fingers clutching tightly around the minigun, muscles in tension and ready to move. One second! "Medic! Hurry, Doktor! We must run and fight!"

"Fight to the death!"

Heavy couldn't wait any longer for Medic, rushing out in a jog from the RED team's spawn, following Knight, the Raider and the Priestess out into the open. Turn left, continue forward and through several buildings, Heavy finally reached the battlefield proper. It was time, but not before Heavy shouted something back at the Knight and his inspiration song. "Comrade Knight, I am not fat, but am hungry for BlU skulls of enemy baby team!

Moving forward as fast as he could, which for a giant bear of a man wasn't too quick honestly, Heavy had to leave both Medic behind him somewhere still looking for his weapon back at base, but also a strange sensation in the back of his mind. Heavy did not know what it truly was, only that it was getting in the way of him killing those pesky revisionists of the BLU team. It was almost a memory, a whit of something refering to a previous life, or world? A bright light, death, then nothing? No, Heavy could not put his finger on it, not the least because he was holding said finger on the trigger of the minigun, ready to do some killing. If anything, perhaps he was hungry. He still had the Sandwich safely tucked in his pocket...Nah, it was probably nothing.

The advance continued until Heavy and the other fighters entered the middle section of the map - a big, open central plaza of what could have come out of ancient Egypt, with the old constructions, sand and pyramid in the distance. Heavy payed little attention to those details however. To Heavy there was only one important task to focus on now - the enemies entering his sight on the far western side of the map. "I spy with my little eye..." Heavy began taunting with his booming voice, a thick Russian accent laced with tremendous power and joyous fury as the powered up his minigun. "Cowards, I spy cowards! Tiny, baby cowards of BLU!"

Heavy ended his taunt by opening fire at the distant enemies, slowing his pace down to a crawl as bullets flew out of his minigun, aimed at the enemy team. This was his job, his life and world now. Nothing existed outside the dunes of sand just on the other side of the fence. There was only his RED team, himself and Sasha.

It was a good day to be giant man!

World of Light

Heavy Weapons Guy

Heavy Weapons Guy

Game Origin: Team Fortress 2

Personality: It would be misleading to say that Heavy is a simpleton. Yes, he is but a simple man, content with the small things in life, especially three things; One, his joy in violence. Heavy will be the first one in the group to jump headlong into the fray, be it armed with his trusted minigun "Sasha" or his two, bare fists, ready to knock some heads. He's not a killing maniac however, we must hope to dear God, but finds the thrill of it unmatched, and thus has little care for his own safety. Two, his friends. While he jumps into the fray of combat with second thought, he makes sure to stand between the fray and those he holds dear; the Medic at the top, and the rest of Team RED at a close second. He would take a bullet - and has taken more than one can count - for his friends, to whom he is most loyal. Three, food. What else is there to say?

Background: Heavy Weapons Guy, hailing from the Siberian wastes of the glorious United Soviet Socialist Republics, spent most of his time serving his new employers of Reliable Excavation Demolition (RED) and working alongside his colleagues. As what you may ask? Well, as mercenaries of course! Shooting, blasting and fist-fighting his way across sand-filled compounds against their rivals in the Builders League United (BLU), Heavy was fighting to pay for his family still home in Mother Russia. There isn't much else to say about Heavy and his past, except for his Degree in Litterature and skills as a poker player.

The daily meatgrinder of mercenary work came to an abrupt end (for a second time after the robots attacked) when another colour attacked Heavy and his team, or both teams to be more exact. Was light a colour? No matter, the important part was that Galeem, the Lord of Light, attacked both teams in the middle of their 'business', destroying both teams, the whole map and the entire world. There was no Medic to heal him, no Engineer putting down a dispenser and no Scout to taunt him in death. And Heavy was angry.

Specialty: Tank
Level: 2
Experience: 8/20 (23.01.21)
Powers:

• Sandwich: While also serving as a healthy snack for The Heavy and possible allies, the mysterious Sandwich has the power to heal significant damage and injuries just by being digested.
• Showdown: With a flick of the wrist, the Heavy mimics a quick-draw Pistol Showdown and shouts before blowing out the imaginary smoke from the "barrel". This attack has the chance of killing an enemy outright in one blow, or severly injure a stronger enemy.

Strengths:

• Strength of a Siberan Bear: As his apperance suggest, Heavy is a incredibly strong Russian giant, much stronger than the tiny baby men of BLU. Heavy can lift things most men never could, and then some. Whether or not he should is a completely different matter, but he will certainly try.
• Taunter: Taunting your enemy into submission is an art it itself, one Heavy has plenty of from his days in RED. Heavy has the ability to call out to his enemies, throwing mean names and insults at them to gain their attention, focusing their ire at him instead of his comrades. After all, they are so small, it's funny to him!
• "Get behind me!": As the designated tank of team RED, Heavy is used to soaking up damage directed at his comrades in arms. Heavy can take more damage than most normal humans could, shrugging off minor wounds with his bellying laughs in Russian. Not invulnerable by no means, but this Russian bear can take one heck of a beating.

Weaknesses:

• Slow runner: Not blessed with a strong constitution, nor particulary long legs, Heavy is a slow runner, easily falling behind his faster compatrions. He's meant to take on the enemy head-on, not chase after them.
• "Less talking, more fighting": Violence is more often than not the answer to Heavy's problems, at least according to himself. He wasn't hired by RED to talk in long, boring board-meetings with BLU after all, he's there to fight it out. Heavy thus has the tendency to fight instead of talking, much to the dismay of his less violent friends. Don't get on his bad side.

Spirits: (See Spirits section for details. Start with none)

Kindred Spirits:

• Medic (TF2)- His very best friend and most useful teammate in RED. This German doktor with the medical knowledge of a genius and ethics of Frankstein always has Heavy's back, blasting him full of healing energy. The two of them working together, nothin can stop them!
• Bentley - The Brain (Sly Cooper-franchise) - Although they have never personally met, in some way and form they once shared the same destiny. While quite the opposites, with Bentley the brain-gifted, wheelbound turtle, they both live their lives at odds with normal society; one a mercenary, the other a thief, both fiercly loyal to their friends and their causes.
• Gordon Freeman - The One Free Man (Half Life) - Dr. Freeman, Gordon Freeman, The Free Man, Anticitizen One, a man of many names yet few words. They both hail from similar worlds, both are formidable fighters in their own right, able to defeat an enemy against overwhelming odds.

Inventory:
-"Sasha" the Minigun, Heavy's main weapon of choice
-The Sandwich