Recent Statuses

5 yrs ago
Current "You don't get be surprised then" -Eso, 2016
5 yrs ago
Don't forget the golden rule of comedy, everyone. Random =/= Funny.
5 yrs ago
Instant demonic didgeridoo -SH4DOW 2K16


Heyo! So I'm R31GN, a nickname I picked up when a director fucked up the pronunciation of my name big-time, in cringelord L337 speak so I can use it as a username wherever I go. I originally started RPing on the PlanetMinecraft Forums because... I was a cringey weeb piece of shit? Stopped that after a dickload of drama (Fuck you, BlackFTW/SilentAero. You're a prick.), started RPing again here awhile ago, but stopped for some reason that honestly escapes me. Came back here again just recently to improve my writing skills in my free time.

As such, I exclusively deal in Advanced nowadays, though I might be tempted into High-Casual. I'm into about any homegrown setting, but those taking place in an existing universe (Star Wars, Warcraft, Warhammer 4K, etc.) are a turn off for me. Not to say I'm instantly opposed, I'm just far more likely to be critical.

I am an avid stalker of Polyphemus ever since my last account here, mostly because we shar(ed?) a lot of common interest and ended up being in quite a few RP's together. Also he's a sexy hunk of man meat, mmm mmm.

I dig gritty shit, I dig superheroes, and I dig fantasy shit.

I have an irrational hatred of all things anime/mango/whatever. Not jokingly.

I don't do 1X1 shit, not since the Dark Island incident tm.

I sexually identify as Tucker from Red vs Blue, my pronouns are Bow/Chicka/Wowwowself

Most Recent Posts

"So prone to violence, that is one of your greatest faults. A failure in your evolution, a vicious reminder of the past. You answer with violence? I shall retaliate with my own. Filth needs to be cleansed."

Jesse let out a feral growl when the two fired shots were ineffective. He cycled another round into his revolver, and leveled it again at the artifact. Fully intending to fire again out of anger, Jesse began to squeeze the trigger, when a mechanical body began clawing itself from the cavernous floor. The automaton was in bad condition, it had likely been buried there for far longer than one should bury a machine of war. Jesse's aim flicked towards the robot almost casually, until it was followed by six more identical forms. In his cybernetic eye, Jesse quickly marked the six with floating skulls, before he began to slowly back up.

With ever so slightly shaky aim, Jesse lined up the barrel of his gun with the glowing eyes of the nearest robot, before it was dropped to the ground by a burst of fire from Callum. Jesse hissed out a curse of frustration, already shifting his aim to another combatant. Even as he did so, the robots seemed to have a similar idea, firing on the group in kind. Jesse spun to the side with all the grace of a first-year ballet student, narrowly dodging a blast of blue energy. As he continued to backpedal, he lined up his shot one final time, pulling the trigger as soon as he found the triangle of red light within his iron sights. Red met red, and the robot crumpled in on itself, seemingly out of the fight.

"Cleaning the filth is my job, jackass." Jesse spat, pupils shrunk down to tiny black pearls of hatred.

Wasting no time, Jesse cycled another round to his pistol, and pointed his extended arm at another of the robots. Again his firing was interrupted by one of the machines, as it approached him with deadly intent. Jesse quickly shifted his pistol to a two-handed grip as he whipped around to face the bot, just in time to see very clearly the blue laser flash from an arm cannon. The flare of energy struck his pistol directly, and glanced against his left hand. Recoiling in pain, Jesse flung the smoking pistol towards the mouth of the cave as he himself fell to the ground.

The robot approached Jesse, black mark marring the side of the head where Jesse's panicked shot had glanced. It stood over the prone man, torturously slow in taking aim between his eyes. Jesse slowly backed away on his elbows, locking eyes with the artificial killer as he scratched the skin from his elbows in panicked escape. He grimaced as his burnt hand rolled across the hard stone floor.

"That's it, then, nothing to say? Just silent execution?" Jesse said as the machines arm lined up with his face. He grinned wide as he heard a high pitched whine from within the machine.


Smoke trickled into the air of the cavern, accompanying the newly crafted hole marring a once pristine face. Jesse coughed out a laugh as the robot fell backwards, carried by the force of the bullet entering its head.

"I used to be like that too. All business, no play. As it turns out, it gets real boring real quick, sweetheart." Pushing himself to his feet, Jesse dropped his smoking Pitbull pistol to the ground carelessly, strutting with purpose to the mouth of the cave. Luckily enough, the remaining robots seemed to have diverted their attention elsewhere, at least for the moment. The feeling of relief was very short lived -as he approached Taka and Scarleth, Jesse felt a blue bolt whizz past, dangerously close to his neck.

Jesse tilted his head in curiosity as he stalked towards Taka's workings, very dangerous looking indeed. He almost stopped to assist the two, but kept walking when he heard a very succinct command from Scarleth-

"Haul ass and get out of here. I got this."

Hardly one to disobey, Jesse didn't look back as he picked up his pace. He hated the thought of the universe losing such a pretty face, but he was sure he could get over it. Plenty of people who were payed to look like that, and those types were far less likely to take any of his limbs than the hired assassin. Jesse only saw it as a win-win. If Scarleth were to make it out, the Federation would be far less likely to blow all their heads off. If not, well that's one more Black Star member he could mark off of his hit list. He grinned, giddy with anticipation as he took cover behind the transport, wide eyes marked with black pinpoint pupils tracking the chaos. Jesse raised his voice, speaking into his comms.

"How you doing back there, Ghost?" He intoned, creating a comm channel between the two of them, remembering what had happened to the last member of their crew that had been split off from the majority. He considered contacting the resident dragon as well, but figured that he could handle just about anything this planet could throw at him -after all, he hadn't seen any Hobbits on the icy planet quite yet.
Freddy Copperfield
The Slums ⚙

"I don't wanna wake him up."

"Someone's gotta."

"Why don't you do it?"

Freddy slowly drifted into consciousness, his blurred vision pulsing in and out of focus. He jerked up suddenly with a start as he regained his bearings. Calloused hands slid desperately against paper, accidentally shoving a large pile of paper to the floor, before finding purchase on the rigid wooden surface of his desk. He raised his head, eyes scanning around the room quickly. Atop the desk at which he was seated was a large spread of paperwork, heavily marked with red pen. One sported a small dark circle -about where Freddy's face might've been resting just a moment ago. Alongside the papers was a slice of butterscotch pie, and a stack of coin. Before Freddy stood a pair of imposing figures, just in the doorway.

"That works, too." One of the two commented, crossing her arms. Lizzie seemed to always have a grimace on her face -bred in the slums of The Core, Lizzie had a rather gritty disposition. Some might call Lizzie short tempered, volatile, the like. Freddy preferred to see her as passionate. Though the tall woman was generally considered abrasive and loud by most, few brought it up to her face, as she always was looking for an excuse to start a fight. She looked down at Freddy, and raised an eyebrow at the half-eaten pie on the desk, which he quickly shoved to the side as color rose to his cheeks.

"It's real important, sir." Spoke the other figure, a man of massive proportions wringing his fingers just behind the doorway. Jack Dime shuffled forward, one hand nervously scratching at his backside. The man was strong, smart, and not bad on the eyes -a natural gang leader, if he weren't so damn timid. The man rarely carried a piece even, out of fear. As he approached closer to the desk, he pulled out a file full of papers, handing them to Freddy. The older man rubbed fatigue from his eyes, before his fingers fumbled to grab the papers. He flicked through them absentmindedly, eyes scanning them through a pair of small reading glasses.

"Johnathan Gills? What are 'ese for, he late on 'is payments again?" Freddy asked, rubbing the bridge of his eyes as he dropped the papers. He continued before they could respond. "Go to 'is place, tell him not to worry about any interest, just the payment. That'll get him to pay up. After he does, take a fingah for me." Freddy muttered, waving a hand to dismiss the two. Lizzie stepped up closer, pushing the papers back to Freddy.

"Not quite. There's more. Katy Kandor. Emily Smith. Joseph Hunter." Lizzie said, pointing to the individual pages in the file.

"Them's the tenants from apartment 23, yeah?" Freddy interrupted, recognizing the pattern.

"That's right. Don't think we can plan on collecting rent from any of them, though." Lizzie said, eliciting a confused look from Freddy. Before he asked, she flipped to the back of the file, where multiple photographs of dead bodies were enclosed. "Dewalt sent us these just an hour ago. Everyone in the apartment, torn apart. Said he had some trouble pulling any cash off of them -something about it being hard to tell where one body started and another ended." She said, emotionless. Freddy looked at the photos for just a moment, before shutting his eyes tight and shoving them to the side. He rubbed his eyelids, standing up from his desk.

"Goddamn it. Call Dewalt, Foal, and Herman. We're goin' for a walk." Freddy said, pulling his gun from the desk drawer, and tucking it into his belt.


Walking down the road, Freddy's crew did not cut much of an imposing figure, but anyone who had been in the slums for more than a day knew better than to interrupt the party. They murmured amongst themselves as they walked, introspecting the possible causes of apartment 23's massacre. Freddy frowned, feeling something very off in the air. He put a hand up, getting the attention of the group. "Oi, is it just me, or is there a 'ell of a lot less gunfire than usual?" Freddy asked, looking around with narrowed eyes. Feeling a chilled drop of water splash on his face, Freddy let out a sigh, and lit a cigar. Puffing out a cloud of smoke, he felt a comfortable warmth reinvigorate him.

"It's probably nothing. Don't get so worked up, Teddy." Spoke the rough voice of John Dewalt, a man who seemed to perpetually have a gun in hand. Freddy shrugged, taking another puff before he again began walking. It didn't take the group long to arrive at the building, sanctioned off by Watchman tape. Not missing a step, Freddy ripped through the tape blocking off the door as he strode into the apartment, greeted by the weak chime of a bell, and the heavy stench of death. He coughed as he walked in, quickly switching from breathing through his nose to through his mouth. Even that didn't help cut down on the smell, so he held his handkerchief up to his nose, breathing through his would-be gas mask. Many of the corpses were lined up here -or at least they had been in the photographs. All that remained were pools of blood and scratches across the walls.

"What happened, Dew? The spooks take the bodies or something?" Asked a trembling Dime.

"Nah, can't be. White hats never clean up the mess for us -something weird is going on here." John answered gruffly.

"Whatever it is, I ain't a fan. Dime, you and Dewalt start lettin' next of kin know. Sooner th' better. Herman, Foal, Lizzie? You're wif me. We've got some sleuthin' to do." Freddy said, making a large sweeping motion with his hands.


The four made their way to the nearest mag train, Freddy's preferred method of transportation. When the passing bullet train was forced to slow in anticipation of an upcoming curve in the rail, Freddy and his crew took the opportunity to board. Less than legal, yes, but certainly expedited. When they arrived in the car, Lizzie spoke up.

"Usually the train's busier. More than... zero people." She said, obviously made uncomfortable by the lack of people aboard. Freddy stepped forward, making his way up through the car. Completely deserted, which he found odd. The group had boarded on the second car -it was unusual to find an open space in any of the first five cars. He frowned, hand moving to his gun.

"Somefin' about today is rubbin' me the wrong way. Keep 'em eyes wide open, dunno what's goin' on but I reckon it ain't gonna be pretty." The man grumbled, head perking up as he heard a curious sound.

Clink... Clink... Clink...

The sound echoed throughout the car, followed by a loud crash from behind. The group whirled around to find the source of the noise, Lizzy and Herman each whipping out their weapon of choice. In the car behind them, loud banging, scratching, and unearthly howls could be heard and almost felt, reverberating throughout. Lizzie moved towards the door that separated the cars, fire in her eyes, but was stopped by a gentle hand on her shoulder. Freddy pulled her back, raising a heavily ringed hand to put a finger up to his lips as he backed away from the door slowly.

Lizzie, disgruntled, holstered her weapon and followed Freddy. He pulled out one of his tablet computers, and quickly flicked through the applications, before he found his messaging application. A notification popped up, signaling a missed message.

>D: Shit hit the fan Fred, call ASAP

Fred's naturally shaky fingers struggled to type out a response as he rolled his cigar around his mouth.

>F: What's wrong Dimes?

>D: Everything's deserted. Watch is on high alert. Something's fucking with our slums.

>D: ...They're saying some crazy shit.

>F: What kind of crazy shit?

Freddy's only response was a spinning circle, infuriatingly slow as it politely notified Freddy that he had a poor connection. He frowned, sending off a second message.

>F: Stay safe out there.


>Message failed. Try again?

The train itself shook heavily, akin to a plane going through turbulence. A loud thud resounded, shivering the locomotive again. Freddy frowned, looking to the windows of the bullet train. He saw a glowing blue blur, before the train thudded again. Pulling out his small leather bound journal, Freddy jotted down a few notes, before being interrupted by yet another shuddering of the vehicle -this time feeling as if they had just run over a body. Another identical bump followed -then another, and another, and finally one massive bump. Everyone on the train could feel it -the unnatural shriek of the train being derailed from its magnetic line. Freddy hit the floor, arms spread wide to bring Lizzie and Foal down with him. The trio braced themselves against the floor, followed closely by Herman.



When he awoke, he was wreathed in flame and smoke. The train has splayed itself across the road, burning a charred mark of carnage in it's wake. Shaking his head to properly awaken himself, Freddy saw a pair of Lizzies walking away, supporting a pair of Foals on their shoulder. Freddy squinted, raising himself up to his feet slowly. Slowly, the two pairs of people blurred into one, limping down the street. Freddy took a deep breath, quickly checking that his faculties were all in order, before sprinting after the two of them. Though he appeared old and weak, Freddy had plenty of juice in him yet.


Came the commanding voice from above. Freddy looked skyward, spotting the interceptor as it flew towards the sky. He put an arm around both Lizzie and Foal, leaning in close.

"Either of ye seen Herman?" He asked gruffly, ears still ringing. He guided the two of them towards the nearby exit ramp as they walked, slowed by Foals limping. A dark stain bore through his pant leg, slowly growing. As if in response, a loud scream was heard from the train wreckage. Herman leapt from the broken window of the crumpled train, superhuman speed pushing him towards the group. He was cut short as a blue glow sped behind even swifter. Claws punctured bone and flesh alike, stopping Herman in his tracks.

A low gurgle followed a spurt of blood from the burly man's mouth as his bright blue eyes glazed over. He reached behind him in a futile gesture, hand brushing gently across his murderers flesh. A frenzy of action, the glowing blue creature seemed hardly finished, as it brought it's claws down, rending the flesh of Herman's corpse. It let out a harsh growl, before sprinting towards Freddy and his entourage. Though the creature made uncannily fast progress, it was struck down before it made any significant distance -where it once had a head filled with toothy spikes, after the loud report of a gunshot, this head was replaced for the most part with large red-hot chunks of metal.

Freddy grimaced, holstering The Chunder, as he looked down at the headless corpse. "Are the two of ye okay? We need ta find somewhere to hole up 'till we can figure out what in the bloody hell is goin' on." He said, scanning the area. He motioned to Lizzy and Foal, and they followed him to the road, where they walked close to a line of buildings obscured in shadow.

Arkheus Identification Card
Bureau of Public Citizen Management

N A M E :

Fred James Copperfield

A L I A S E S :

The Landlord
Slum King
The Bottle Man
The Teddy Bear of the Slums
King of the Core
Angel of the Slums
Poor Man's Martyr
The Rat Prince
The Lowesman

G E N D E R :


A G E :


J O B T I T L E :


P R O F I C I E N C I E S :

Business Man- First and foremost, Freddy is a man of business. His people skills are his pride, and he has yet to fail to cut a deal.

Stamina for days- Thanks to his prosthetic lungs and heart, Freddy's body is capable of working for far longer than the average person. He can run, jump, and dance around for hours on end without feeling fatigued.

Masochist- Freddy can take more than his fair share of pain, having extremely high pain tolerance.

Street Rat- Growing up in the slums of the Core, surrounded by gang activity, Freddy is good with his hands, and more than adept at the various trades of the street -all sorts of pilfering, plundering, pugilism, and philanthropism. The back alleys and dark streets of the Core, Freddy knows better than his own face in a mirror.

Money Man- Especially by Core standards, and even by the standards of other sectors, Freddy is by no means short on funds. His business is a lucrative one, and a gift that simply keeps giving. Though he doesn't show it in appearance, his pockets may as well be lined with gold and green.

L I M I T A T I O N S :

Scrapper- Freddy is a scrappy man, and can be relied upon to hold his own in a fight, if not just for his pain tolerance. However, he is in no way a trained fighter -far from it in fact. Anyone with a scrap of formal combat training can likely sweep the floor with Freddy, be it in hand to hand or firefighting.

Dull Knife- Freddy is clever, and quick on his feet when it comes to social situations; however, he is very far from a bright intellectual. Solving problems in the physical world, be it based in mechanics, computational, or mathematics, Freddy is lost.

Clean Hands- Freddy considers himself a good person, and goes to lengths to uphold this image. While he has harsh mood swings, these are largely offset by his gentle personality. This tends to hold him back in his illicit dealings, and the upholding of his leadership role.

Small Picture- Planning ahead doesn't really fall under Freddy's skillset. He prefers to roll with punches as they come, and improvise -mostly because he can't put together a plan for shit without it falling down on his head.

Shiver me timbers- Due to drug use, stress, and years of muscular use, Freddy has slowly been losing control of his body over the past years. He is extremely clumsy, and very much unsuited for any delicate handiwork with his perpetually shaking hands.

Pop goes the gangbanger- While his less than official prosthetic organs allow him to operate at double-time, Freddy must be aware of his use. Abuse of the artificial organs could lead to their failure -a death warrant.

Flame-retardant pants- Freddy doesn't lie if he can help it. He hates people who lie to his face.

L I K E S :

Long walks on the beach.



Being in charge.



D I S L I K E S :

Children, immature people.

The word 'no'.


Needless negativity.


I M P O R T A N T P E O P L E :

His right hand man, Billy Foal.

His (admittedly estranged) son, Fred Copperfield Jr.

As the ragtag group of criminals, low lives, and general neer-do-wells reconciled, Jesse relaxed, somewhat at ease as the scum of the earth gathered around him. He leaned back low against the computer terminal, using the barrel of his revolver to keep his head propped up in a somewhat upright position. He frowned as he listened to the others speak. Henri, Taka, Scar, and Call each seemed to have something to say, normal enough, but another voice he couldn't quite put his finger on joined in on the chat. He was almost certain he didn't recognize the voice, and he couldn't really tell where it was coming from. Jesse frowned, tapping lightly at his ear with a free hand while he passively watched the others.

"We didn't do anything to him. He did it to himself. Started to go on about 'voices in his head' that drove him mad. He put one of his guns to his head, we tried to stop him and he turned them on Max and me. Jumped us like animals, then his head blew up like a ripe watermelon against concrete, as you can see. The fucking feds weren't lying." Callum said, recounting the tale in brutal detail. Jesse frowned at this story, and rubbed at the base of his neck nervously.

Following Callum's direction, since he was as lost as the others, Jesse jumped aboard the transport. On the thankfully short ride to the location of the artifact, Jesse sighed with frustration. "Damn feds. They just send us out to some icy asshole of a planet to get fucked over by some mind-control artifact thingy? Like we're some kinda "Self-Destruction Team"? He complained, turning a laser cartridge over in his fingers.

On their arrival in the cavern, Jesse took note of the bodies scattered across the floor, but paid them little heed. He was far more focused on the artifact, the source of all their trouble. He frowned, looking up and down the pillar on which it was perched. Walking just a few paces in front of Callum, Jesse stumbled back when the artifact assaulted his mind with an onslaught of ringing and light. Jesse felt sheer agony ringing out through his ears, and took it as a cue to push on further. As he approached the artifact, he felt an intensely powerful urge to raise his pistol to his own head -a feeling he had to put all of his effort into as he fell to his knees.

On his knees before the artifact, Jesse felt his mind race through images he had tried so hard to forget. It seemed every time he had been hurt took this opportunity to resurface. In amazing clarity, as though being taken back to the moment, he relived the pain. Fifteen lashes across his back. Stabbed in the shoulder. Shot in the knee. Jesse rose up higher. Head smashed through a table. Arm twisted too far back. Broken nose. Jesse was now on his hands and knees. Overdose on stardust. Head smashed through a TV. Shrapnel in his eye. Jesse shakily rose to his feet, and leveled his weapon at the artifact. Somehow even clearer than the others, he was taken back to the moment -the moment she left him.

"...never want to see you again."

Jesse let out a gurgle of a shout as the last vision hit, sending him back down to his knees.

"Never want to see you again...

Never want to see you again...

Never want to see you again..."
He repeated, over and over, hands clawing at his own face before his voice broke, falling into a wheezing, desperate laugh. As the ringing subsided into a steady pulse, Jesse lowered his hands to look back up at the artifact as he stood onto shaky feet.

"Primitive creatures of flesh, bone and blood. Have you come here for death? I brought these you see before you here, ended their fragile existences. I toyed with their thoughts, twisted their speech and deified myself before them. They discovered this artifact, aspired, begged to learn more. I gave them what they seeked, it was too much for simple minds. I absorbed their memories, accumulated their rumination to then cleansed this world of further filth. Now you have come, all of you of ill repute and sin. All of you failed mutations and creations. You stand, now kneel before me." Spoke the artifact.

Jesse frowned, as his cybernetic eye put a highlighted outline around the artifact, and a label reading "Asshole". Breathing heavily, jaw hanging just slightly ajar. "Blah blah blah, blah blah. You going to make us kneel, or just try and talk us to death?" Jesse spoke, dipping down to grab his revolver. In one fluid movement, he took a pivoting step backwards, cocked the revolver, leveled it, and fired a single shot at the artifact. Bloody red light flooded the cavern for just a brief second as the weapon disharged.
C O N R A D " F O U R S " P A T R I C K

"Perimeter alarms just got tripped too- someone's in the building." Fours said nothing when K-Ton made the announcement, waving the group down. With slow, precise movements, Fours slung his shotgun over his shoulder, and pulled out his magnum. The movement was followed only by a silent scraping of metal on metal, and the light click of a safety being toggled.

Fours' eyes tracked Luciel as she sprung into action, ever eager for a fight. Fours admired the shining spirit the girl bore, though he certainly didn't appreciate her lack of finesse. He frowned as she pressed her back to the wall directly adjacent to the door, preparing to attack anyone who would dare come through. His eyes narrowed to a scalpel point, as visions danced through his head. The door splintered open, shrapnel and dust making a cloud in the air that swallowed the rookie, leaving behind a brutalized pulp of gore and wooden shards. Fours shook the image from his head, only for another to shove it's way in. Light penetrated into the room in horizontal columns of dust. Each spread of light opening into the room was punctuate by a loud bang, moving in a quick waving from right to left. As the spray of piercing rounds fired into the room, they found resistance in the body of the rookie, shock from the bullets keeping her suspended on her feet long after life left her glazed eyes. One more vision lurked in the side of his vision, distracting the medic -a massive aberrant blue figure smashed through the wall, an alien form of nightmares, whose massive metallic footfall brought the rookie down with a gut wrenching crunch.

Fours pressed his fingers to his eyes, finally succeeding to erase the unwanted thoughts of brutality from his mind when Berne pried Luciel away from the doorway. As if on cue, a voice chimed up over the comms. "This is Iron. We got several people coming - militia colors and they look armed. Good arms too - within range. Permission to fire?" Fours' eyes widened, marginally, at the comment. He had admired Iron's professionalism for as long as they had worked together, though her constant silence was something unnerving. Hey certainly appreciated the fact that she was wise enough to stray from the line of fire -there were very few occasions he had the need to patch her of any wounds. Yet, her silence was certainly unnerving at times. The knowledge that eyes are constantly watching, placing their ironclad judgement on any and all under their gaze.

"Jason, as much as I'd love to kick-start my fledgling political career with a storied speech, I can't imagine a full-armoured ODST is going to be a paragon of diplomatic virtue! It would be...appropriate for us to split up, we are limited in our resources, but I cannot tolerate any injury to our charges. Fours and I will find the ring-leaders... Your good self, and Kensington over here, will watch the crowd" Fours listened to the plan of the leader, nodding his head as the man spoke. Fours tried his best to not think too hard about orders given by Berne. As a medic, Fours was out of a job if everything went according to plan. Always better he focus on the present, leave planning ahead to the more foolhardy and optimistic. Fours' preparation consisted instead of repeating a mantra in his head of medical procedures, whatever he thought might be useful in the coming shitstorm.

"Knock knock, knock knock. Here come the peacemakers." Thought Fours, staying just a pace behind Berne.

"No more chatter, Fours. It's just you and me, now..." Fours heard some chatter coming from the others as he followed Berne into the staircase, but did not pay any heed. As Berne had so succinctly put it, it was just the two of them. Two walking armories of men, against a raging wave of protestors, their only assurance for survival a pair of sniper rifles and some canisters of gas. Fours shuddered at the thought of something going wrong. Iron could drop a few adversaries at most, and tear gas would do more harm than good, should the ODSTs get overwhelmed. He considered making a statement along those lines to Berne, but remained silent at his orders, simply raising his pistol to head height as he followed closely behind.

Fire already has this, but I'm posting it here just to let y'all know it's finished.
Soooo, anybody gonna post, or should I throw another up?

I've got a couple hours free, I'll see what I can throw out
@R31GN Would James have been willing to sell Maren LSD?

Yeah man
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