Love the idea! :)
Interested~!
Interested~!
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Mark had finished checking the crates of stolen goods and was about to leave when he heard sirens blaring outside. "Fuckin' SHIT!" hissed Mark to himself as he bolted the metal doors shut and cocked his gun. He was trapped in here wasn't he? Were they going to shoot? How many damn cops are out there? He had guns alright. Enough to last him a while, but the cops would just gas him out. Damn cops!
The sirens then disappeared into the distance. Mark was left frozen for a good while, wanting to make sure that they had really left. He could still hear his own heartbeat loudly. A sigh of relief.
*BANG* *BANG* *BANG*
The sound made Mark jump into attack mode again as he pointed at the door from the shadows. Then came a loud voice from outside. "Hey Scrapper? You in there still? Open up goddammit!". Mark recognised the voice as Blade's - another member of the gang, the getaway driver usually. Mark threw open the doors, none too happy about being startled like that. Well, not that he was going to admit it.
"Why the fuck are you here?" questioned Mark as he sat atop on of the boxes.
"Here to get supplies. We're all being shoved back into the ditches. Patrols are gettin' denser" replied Blade as he rummaged through the boxes.
"What's going on? Terrorists loose? Them cops not trying to get us right?"
"Nah. They seem to be hiding something though. A few stores were burning down. No one even tried to help. No ambulance. Nothing"
"Hey. You know what would be good now?" said Mark as he slyly looked back at Blade.
"Drugs?"
"Fuck no. The license to loot. We steal some cop suits and throw people against the walls. Empty their wallets. Bam! Easy pickings! Maybe even get us into special areas!" said Mark as he locked up the container. The boss wouldn't mind a bit of a delay.
"Kill cops? Are you nuts?!"
Mark grinned as he started his bike. "Hop on"
The two gangsters speed off on Mark's motorcycle, travelling along the sewer lines and alleyways where few patrolled. Whenever they would hear the loud engine of a tank or helicopter nearby, they would take an alternative route. They circled the streets for a while before they went into the red light district and came to a stop behind a prostitute business with a cop car parked out front. They headed up the stairs and sure enough, loud pleasurable sounds could be heard from behind the door. Apparently some cops wanted a time out. And a timeout they shall get.
Bursting through the door, Mark and Blade caught the cops by surprise. It didn't help that the three cops were naked from head to toe and away from their weapons. The prostitute screamed and fled onto the streets, causing wild hooting from a few beggars outside. During that hooting, Mark was beating the hell out of the cops who were too tired to fight back. Melee weapons were enough for this situation and soon there were three dead, useless cops.
"Well now what?" asked Blade as held up one of the uniforms, not really wanting to wear it. "Want me to take the cop car?"
"Leave it for now. We'll ask the Boss that" replied Mark as he listened to one of the shoulder radios. Shame he didn't understand any of the cryptic cop codes. 101? 15? What the hell? Bundling up the clothes into a duffel bag, Mark and Blade headed back outside. Their hideout wasn't far from here.
The sirens then disappeared into the distance. Mark was left frozen for a good while, wanting to make sure that they had really left. He could still hear his own heartbeat loudly. A sigh of relief.
*BANG* *BANG* *BANG*
The sound made Mark jump into attack mode again as he pointed at the door from the shadows. Then came a loud voice from outside. "Hey Scrapper? You in there still? Open up goddammit!". Mark recognised the voice as Blade's - another member of the gang, the getaway driver usually. Mark threw open the doors, none too happy about being startled like that. Well, not that he was going to admit it.
"Why the fuck are you here?" questioned Mark as he sat atop on of the boxes.
"Here to get supplies. We're all being shoved back into the ditches. Patrols are gettin' denser" replied Blade as he rummaged through the boxes.
"What's going on? Terrorists loose? Them cops not trying to get us right?"
"Nah. They seem to be hiding something though. A few stores were burning down. No one even tried to help. No ambulance. Nothing"
"Hey. You know what would be good now?" said Mark as he slyly looked back at Blade.
"Drugs?"
"Fuck no. The license to loot. We steal some cop suits and throw people against the walls. Empty their wallets. Bam! Easy pickings! Maybe even get us into special areas!" said Mark as he locked up the container. The boss wouldn't mind a bit of a delay.
"Kill cops? Are you nuts?!"
Mark grinned as he started his bike. "Hop on"
The two gangsters speed off on Mark's motorcycle, travelling along the sewer lines and alleyways where few patrolled. Whenever they would hear the loud engine of a tank or helicopter nearby, they would take an alternative route. They circled the streets for a while before they went into the red light district and came to a stop behind a prostitute business with a cop car parked out front. They headed up the stairs and sure enough, loud pleasurable sounds could be heard from behind the door. Apparently some cops wanted a time out. And a timeout they shall get.
Bursting through the door, Mark and Blade caught the cops by surprise. It didn't help that the three cops were naked from head to toe and away from their weapons. The prostitute screamed and fled onto the streets, causing wild hooting from a few beggars outside. During that hooting, Mark was beating the hell out of the cops who were too tired to fight back. Melee weapons were enough for this situation and soon there were three dead, useless cops.
"Well now what?" asked Blade as held up one of the uniforms, not really wanting to wear it. "Want me to take the cop car?"
"Leave it for now. We'll ask the Boss that" replied Mark as he listened to one of the shoulder radios. Shame he didn't understand any of the cryptic cop codes. 101? 15? What the hell? Bundling up the clothes into a duffel bag, Mark and Blade headed back outside. Their hideout wasn't far from here.
My post will be coming up today. :)
What's the setting going to be? Can I write my posts as Dear Diary entries instead of letters? Can I keep a character for myself?
Lo, can I just check with you if it's okay to introduce a gang buddy for Mark? Considering Mark's current situation where he's alone, I can have more things happen if there's two of them. Would there be any details you need for the gang buddy? Mark will still be my main character though.
Eh, I'm not actually expecting Mark to become a power god. He's more like the type who dies alone in a corner sadly laughing to himself. I'll leave out the humour (sorry about that).
So I feel kinda dumb for sending Mark away from the escape route, but then that's what Mark would do. He's not one to run. Lo - please let me know if that's okay. If it throws a wrench in the works, I can edit. Also, let me know if the container's contents are alright. I don't plan for it to be a shopping centre, but figured that what a gang's container would have.
Also, also, bras are fun to rapidly spin around. I like to put a bit of humour in my posts... :P And to cover my ass in case 14C (Aus) can be misinterpreted as an underage size overseas, here's a conversion chart.
Also, also, bras are fun to rapidly spin around. I like to put a bit of humour in my posts... :P And to cover my ass in case 14C (Aus) can be misinterpreted as an underage size overseas, here's a conversion chart.
Mark sped along the highway in the opposite direction, silently laughing at all the suckers who were too chicken to stay. Looks like everyone was falling for the media. How bad could it be anyways? Probably just a flu thing were they'll give out vaccines. And since... if there was a bomb or something...uh...
Mark stopped. No, can't be a bomb. Those sirens would have blared by now. Or maybe something new was announced over the media and he didn't know about it. The fear was slowly surrounding Mark like a pack of wolves about to dine on their meal. It seemed more and more people were running. Was it better to do what everyone else was doing and leave as well? Leave whilst there was still time? Heck, if there was anything, first come first served. Mark looked back along the road. His bike would be really handy when it came to squeezing between the lanes. Maybe it would be best if he -
The loud screech of metal slamming and being crushed, made Mark cry out like he never had before. He didn't remember what he shouted but, damn he sounded weak. Where was the sound coming from? How fast was it? Was this it? Him turning into bloody roadkill? The gangster did all that he could - cover his head and hunch over, hoping that he wouldn't become a splattered mess. Then everything fell silent. Was he dead? Where was the pain? He could hear again... his heart beating rapidly, the sound of engines slowly moving away. Mark's other senses slowly came back to him. It took a moment for the gangster to recollect himself. He was scared shitless. His hands were shaking. Dammit! Stop shaking!
"... quarantine..." came the voice of someone in the distance. Mark looked up to find the tank moving along the highway, crushing and pushing cars away.
A quarantine? It sounded believable... but Mark didn't want to give in. He didn't want to become just another panicky member of the public. He was a gangster, a proud thug. He was not scared of stupid quarantines! He had to check on the container and report back to the Boss. Mark reached for his phone, only to curse at the networks being down. Maybe... That is... unless his Boss had also left by now.
Was this really a quarantine? Or was everyone scaring each other because they were scared? Then again... the switched off media channels... The tank. But a quarantine for what? Terrorists? Must be pretty big to call out tanks like that. Can't be terriorists... they'll let people out, not restrict them... Maybe prisoners escaped or something.
If this was a quarantine, the container would be the safest place. If this wasn't a quarantine, then the Boss would want to know if cops found the container! Mark throttled his bike again, going up to full speed as he went deeper into the town, in the opposite direction of everyone else. His heart felt strange and his hands were still shaking, but Mark hoped he was right.
Mark soon reached the gang's container, hidden deep within an old construction site. Good... the place was clear. He unlocked the huge metal doors, cursing as they were now rusted enough to be hard to push open. He wheeled in his bike and then closed the door, breathing a sigh of relief. Why did he just do that? Relief for entering a container? The crowd mentality must be getting to him. Mark flicked on the torch as he went to check the boxes one by one.
Jewellery 'n' cash - check. Drugs were somewhere else... Expensive electronics - check. Guns - check. Wine that he couldn't drink - check. A FREAKIN' 14C BRA? Getting distracted, Mark lifted up the lacy... thing and stared at it for a good moment for two. What was a bra doing here? Oh now he got it... heheh. Funny. Mark began to rapidly spin the bra around on his finger for fun. Well, not that he liked women much, but the bra was funny.
*spin* *spin* *spin* *flies off*
Mark stopped. No, can't be a bomb. Those sirens would have blared by now. Or maybe something new was announced over the media and he didn't know about it. The fear was slowly surrounding Mark like a pack of wolves about to dine on their meal. It seemed more and more people were running. Was it better to do what everyone else was doing and leave as well? Leave whilst there was still time? Heck, if there was anything, first come first served. Mark looked back along the road. His bike would be really handy when it came to squeezing between the lanes. Maybe it would be best if he -
The loud screech of metal slamming and being crushed, made Mark cry out like he never had before. He didn't remember what he shouted but, damn he sounded weak. Where was the sound coming from? How fast was it? Was this it? Him turning into bloody roadkill? The gangster did all that he could - cover his head and hunch over, hoping that he wouldn't become a splattered mess. Then everything fell silent. Was he dead? Where was the pain? He could hear again... his heart beating rapidly, the sound of engines slowly moving away. Mark's other senses slowly came back to him. It took a moment for the gangster to recollect himself. He was scared shitless. His hands were shaking. Dammit! Stop shaking!
"... quarantine..." came the voice of someone in the distance. Mark looked up to find the tank moving along the highway, crushing and pushing cars away.
A quarantine? It sounded believable... but Mark didn't want to give in. He didn't want to become just another panicky member of the public. He was a gangster, a proud thug. He was not scared of stupid quarantines! He had to check on the container and report back to the Boss. Mark reached for his phone, only to curse at the networks being down. Maybe... That is... unless his Boss had also left by now.
Was this really a quarantine? Or was everyone scaring each other because they were scared? Then again... the switched off media channels... The tank. But a quarantine for what? Terrorists? Must be pretty big to call out tanks like that. Can't be terriorists... they'll let people out, not restrict them... Maybe prisoners escaped or something.
If this was a quarantine, the container would be the safest place. If this wasn't a quarantine, then the Boss would want to know if cops found the container! Mark throttled his bike again, going up to full speed as he went deeper into the town, in the opposite direction of everyone else. His heart felt strange and his hands were still shaking, but Mark hoped he was right.
Mark soon reached the gang's container, hidden deep within an old construction site. Good... the place was clear. He unlocked the huge metal doors, cursing as they were now rusted enough to be hard to push open. He wheeled in his bike and then closed the door, breathing a sigh of relief. Why did he just do that? Relief for entering a container? The crowd mentality must be getting to him. Mark flicked on the torch as he went to check the boxes one by one.
Jewellery 'n' cash - check. Drugs were somewhere else... Expensive electronics - check. Guns - check. Wine that he couldn't drink - check. A FREAKIN' 14C BRA? Getting distracted, Mark lifted up the lacy... thing and stared at it for a good moment for two. What was a bra doing here? Oh now he got it... heheh. Funny. Mark began to rapidly spin the bra around on his finger for fun. Well, not that he liked women much, but the bra was funny.
*spin* *spin* *spin* *flies off*
My post for Mark is a little optimistic, but that's because as a thug, he sees the evacuations as opportunities. Then it'll slowly dawn on him how bad things really are. He's currently heading off deeper into the West side of town.
Name: Mark 'Scrapper' Winters
Location: Thug Hideout, West part of town
Time: 7pm
Mark and several others in his gang sat around the TV though they weren't really watching it. Beer bottles and junk food lay across the table. Mark had identified a few profitable houses and they would need to go stealing tonight, but for now there was nothing to do. Including the boss, there were five in the gang. One was drunk, another on a high and the third was nowhere to be seen. Mark was boringly flicking through all the channels, as if trying to put on a light show for himself.
The boss however, looked concerned as he stood by the window, staring out on the streets. "Something's wrong. It's too damn quiet down there" said the Boss.
"Well, from the looks of it, the city needs to evacuate...!" said Mark as he stopped on the news channel. Mark and the Boss looked at each other for a moment before both of them bursted into laughter. Yeah right. Thugs evacuating at a time like this. This was the best time for raids!
"You know what? I bet's it's one of them net hoaxes gone wild!" scoffed Mark. The phones all went dead before they flashed that strange message. Mark stared at it for a moment before shrugging it off. "Looks like the hackers are in on this too. Hehe, sounds kinda fun" said Mark, amused by all that was going on. After all, it's not every day chaos happens right in front of your face.
"Nah. It's a reason for the cops to bust all of us. Kill us too if they want. Scrapper. Go check on the box" said the Boss, throwing Mark the container keys. The 'box' contained all their stolen wares and if the cops got to it, then it would be bad for business.
"Sure thing" said Mark as he caught the keys. He grabbed his Desert Eagle as well as a spare clip, tucking them into the pocket of his pants. Next was his Kukri - a weapon that didn't rely on ammunition. Tying the final knot on his bandana and then zipping up his jacket, Mark gave his Boss a back wave before heading out the door. He smiled at his Ducati as he started the engine - it would be a fine night out. Plenty of pickings.
As Mark tore down the streets, an uneasy feeling started inside of him. It was unsettling to see traffic all going in the opposite direction. People seemed panicked for some reason. Heh, stupid fuckers. Looks like they fell for whatever prank some kid's playing. Well let them continue their own chaos. Mark had a job to do. The container wasn't far - it was at an old lot, buried between other containers. There were a few barricades along the way, so Mark just swerved and took an alternate route.
Mark then heard a familiar sound - one that he should dread. Police chopper overhead! Dang those snipers in the sky. What were they doing? Following him? Mark slowed down on the road before he stopped and watched as the chopper flew off into the distance. It seemed to be circling? No wait. There was another... two more. Three police choppers in total, not counting the news. Mark scanned the skyline. There wasn't any signs of fire or explosions. Just what was the hoax about anyway? Why did everyone seem to be so in on it?
Eh whatever. It's all about the pickings. But before that - the box. Better make sure no cops were crawling all over it. Mark continued down the road, turning into the quieter streets. Hey, if everyone was leaving, then it'd mean he would be able to break into the mechanic's shop and steal some free parts for his Ducati! This is going to be great night! Freeee bike parts! Well okay, so maybe the hoax might not be a hoax. But whatever it was, it was to the gang's benefit. After all, they could always loot the entire town and then leave! A win-win! HAH!
An explosion seemed to go off far in the distance. It made Mark stop in his tracks, frowning as he tried to discern what it was from. Air bombings like the movies? Can't be. Feh, maybe just other looters going about their business blasting shops apart.
Location: Thug Hideout, West part of town
Time: 7pm
Mark and several others in his gang sat around the TV though they weren't really watching it. Beer bottles and junk food lay across the table. Mark had identified a few profitable houses and they would need to go stealing tonight, but for now there was nothing to do. Including the boss, there were five in the gang. One was drunk, another on a high and the third was nowhere to be seen. Mark was boringly flicking through all the channels, as if trying to put on a light show for himself.
The boss however, looked concerned as he stood by the window, staring out on the streets. "Something's wrong. It's too damn quiet down there" said the Boss.
"Well, from the looks of it, the city needs to evacuate...!" said Mark as he stopped on the news channel. Mark and the Boss looked at each other for a moment before both of them bursted into laughter. Yeah right. Thugs evacuating at a time like this. This was the best time for raids!
"You know what? I bet's it's one of them net hoaxes gone wild!" scoffed Mark. The phones all went dead before they flashed that strange message. Mark stared at it for a moment before shrugging it off. "Looks like the hackers are in on this too. Hehe, sounds kinda fun" said Mark, amused by all that was going on. After all, it's not every day chaos happens right in front of your face.
"Nah. It's a reason for the cops to bust all of us. Kill us too if they want. Scrapper. Go check on the box" said the Boss, throwing Mark the container keys. The 'box' contained all their stolen wares and if the cops got to it, then it would be bad for business.
"Sure thing" said Mark as he caught the keys. He grabbed his Desert Eagle as well as a spare clip, tucking them into the pocket of his pants. Next was his Kukri - a weapon that didn't rely on ammunition. Tying the final knot on his bandana and then zipping up his jacket, Mark gave his Boss a back wave before heading out the door. He smiled at his Ducati as he started the engine - it would be a fine night out. Plenty of pickings.
As Mark tore down the streets, an uneasy feeling started inside of him. It was unsettling to see traffic all going in the opposite direction. People seemed panicked for some reason. Heh, stupid fuckers. Looks like they fell for whatever prank some kid's playing. Well let them continue their own chaos. Mark had a job to do. The container wasn't far - it was at an old lot, buried between other containers. There were a few barricades along the way, so Mark just swerved and took an alternate route.
Mark then heard a familiar sound - one that he should dread. Police chopper overhead! Dang those snipers in the sky. What were they doing? Following him? Mark slowed down on the road before he stopped and watched as the chopper flew off into the distance. It seemed to be circling? No wait. There was another... two more. Three police choppers in total, not counting the news. Mark scanned the skyline. There wasn't any signs of fire or explosions. Just what was the hoax about anyway? Why did everyone seem to be so in on it?
Eh whatever. It's all about the pickings. But before that - the box. Better make sure no cops were crawling all over it. Mark continued down the road, turning into the quieter streets. Hey, if everyone was leaving, then it'd mean he would be able to break into the mechanic's shop and steal some free parts for his Ducati! This is going to be great night! Freeee bike parts! Well okay, so maybe the hoax might not be a hoax. But whatever it was, it was to the gang's benefit. After all, they could always loot the entire town and then leave! A win-win! HAH!
An explosion seemed to go off far in the distance. It made Mark stop in his tracks, frowning as he tried to discern what it was from. Air bombings like the movies? Can't be. Feh, maybe just other looters going about their business blasting shops apart.
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