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3 days ago
Current Patrolling the status bar almost makes you wish for a nuclear winter.
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6 days ago
F to pay respects boys
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9 days ago
anyone else wanna run it back and do Civil War: 2 just for old times sake? Finna wanna play my battle hymns and die of typhoid like my ancestors
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17 days ago
how to friends??
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25 days ago
Our lord and savior still watches over us from the great beyond i.imgur.com/fsE5hZi.png
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Bio

Superboy


Meirl:







Roleplay:


Time RPing: Almost 8 years now
Level: High Casual to Advanced

Preferences: Flat is justice Science Fiction, Science Fantasy, Superheroes
Availability: None as of now. Totally swamped with my current games

Former RPs:

No Turning Back - Surviving The Abyss by @Sep

Battletech: Anabasis by @HeySeuss

Sticks and Stones by me!

Current RPs:

Pariah Online: A Voyage into the Intangible Aether by @Inkarnate

Ultimate One Universe by @Master Bruce

Valar Morghulis by @Sunset






Most Recent Posts



Op. No. KY-9914; Pvt. Malik Skaya
121st Battalion, Bravo Company, 1st Platoon, 1st Squad
Lothor Minor | Planetfall - Contact
APPROX. 1200HRS; 5 BBY



The rear of the Lambda shook as it broke through Lothor Minor's atmosphere. Malik Skaya wrapped his fingers tighter around his E-11, his gaze kept firmly on the floor as he counted down the seconds until they made planetfall. The nerves he'd gotten simply entering the shuttle returned now, the prospect of rushing into a volley of blaster fire made his blood boil with anticipation and anxiety. Violence and bloodshed had plagued Aquellan culture since its dawn. It was bred into each and every one of them at birth; those who refused to fight were seen as oddities at best and damned cowards at worst.

Skaya had spent every day in the Corps proving again and again that he was the warrior his people expected him to be. This was just another chance to prove his mettle one more time.

A panicked voice drowning in static screamed out from the cockpit. Skaya was too far from that side of the shuttle to understand it, but the tone in the pilot's voice and the way the sergeant spun around made the medic's heart jump into his throat. 'Contact? Already?' He wondered, only for the enemy to confirm his suspicions by firing upon the shuttle. The entire vehicle gave a sudden and savage lurch, throwing the sergeant to the ground and slamming Malik's head forward. He would've gone tumbling out of his seat if not for the restraining straps that dug into his shoulders between the gaps in his armor plating.

"Zina." He cursed under his breath, clutching his service weapon to his chest like it was his only lifeline in the middle of a storm. That rifle was the only damn thing Malik knew he could rely on. It was the only thing that would keep him alive once that lift fell and he went dashing headfirst into enemy laser fire. Everything else was just noise. Screeching, violent noise as he counted down the agonizing seconds until the fighting began- or they were blown out of the sky before he ever got the chance to fire off a shot.

The shuttle touched down, crushing a mass of trash underneath its weight, the ramp beginning to fall but a moment later. Skaya unhooked his straps in one, quick motion, rising out of his seat to the tune of the devil's piano that the enemy was using to pepper their transport. A thick, noxious fog rammed against Malik's nostrils as he filed out behind Sergeant Vytuia, adrenaline racing through his system as he mentally steeled himself for what came next.

A flurry of heat passed mere inches from his head, the blaster bolt striking against the hull of the shuttle directly above him. Vytuia's voice played in his ear through his helmet's built-in radio even as Skaya made his mad dash for cover. A large, flat piece of metal half-buried in a mountain of junk looked to be his best bet. It was was one of the wings of a long defunct TIE Fighter, he guessed; not that where it came from mattered as much as its ability to absorb enemy fire. Malik slammed his shoulder up against the broken wing, several more blaster bolts flying passed him just as he disappeared behind it.

His first task was to crouch and peek, hoping to get a decent lay of the land before he decided the best course of action for taking the top of that hill. The first thing he noted was just how damned hard it was to pick out the natives from the terrain. They wore the same, drab browns and dirty grays that made up the junk and rock of Lothor Minor, allowing them to blend in even when they stood in plain view. There could be anywhere from five to twenty-five of them just on this hill and Skaya wouldn't know until they started shooting. The second thing he noted was just how aggressive they were. Even now, two of the bastards were running right at them with near-suicidal intent, like their lives didn't matter. Fanatacism, maybe? Or desperation?

Malik slid his scope up in front of his face, dragging it along the hillside. He counted out each individual muzzle flash he noticed, tallying them all up before moving the scope back over and double-checking his math. He popped up a shot whenever he thought he had a chance to land it, the E-11's stock smacking up against his shoulder with each gentle press of the trigger. Malik was no marksman, however, and the extraneous conditions on the field made his aim...questionable. "I count eight in total, including the gunner-" He started to speak over the comm, only for a blaster shot to fly right past his head and force him to duck into cover to avoid decapitation. That one came from somewhere else entirely. "Nine! Make that nine!"

Op. No. KY-9914; Pvt. Malik Skaya
121st Battalion, Bravo Company, 1st Platoon, 1st Squad
Lothor Minor | Planetfall - Contact
APPROX. 1200HRS; 5 BBY



The rear of the Lambda shook as it broke through Lothor Minor's atmosphere. Malik Skaya wrapped his fingers tighter around his E-11, his gaze kept firmly on the floor as he counted down the seconds until they made planetfall. The nerves he'd gotten simply entering the shuttle returned now, the prospect of rushing into a volley of blaster fire made his blood boil with anticipation and anxiety. Violence and bloodshed had plagued Aquellan culture since its dawn. It was bred into each and every one of them at birth; those who refused to fight were seen as oddities at best and damned cowards at worst.

Skaya had spent every day in the Corps proving again and again that he was the warrior his people expected him to be. This was just another chance to prove his mettle one more time.

A panicked voice drowning in static screamed out from the cockpit. Skaya was too far from that side of the shuttle to understand it, but the tone in the pilot's voice and the way the sergeant spun around made the medic's heart jump into his throat. 'Contact? Already?' He wondered, only for the enemy to confirm his suspicions by firing upon the shuttle. The entire vehicle gave a sudden and savage lurch, throwing the sergeant to the ground and slamming Malik's head forward. He would've gone tumbling out of his seat if not for the restraining straps that dug into his shoulders between the gaps in his armor plating.

"Zina." He cursed under his breath, clutching his service weapon to his chest like it was his only lifeline in the middle of a storm. That rifle was the only damn thing Malik knew he could rely on. It was the only thing that would keep him alive once that lift fell and he went dashing headfirst into enemy laser fire. Everything else was just noise. Screeching, violent noise as he counted down the agonizing seconds until the fighting began- or they were blown out of the sky before he ever got the chance to fire off a shot.

The shuttle touched down, crushing a mass of trash underneath its weight, the ramp beginning to fall but a moment later. Skaya unhooked his straps in one, quick motion, rising out of his seat to the tune of the devil's piano that the enemy was using to pepper their transport. A thick, noxious fog rammed against Malik's nostrils as he filed out behind Sergeant Vytuia, adrenaline racing through his system as he mentally steeled himself for what came next.

A flurry of heat passed mere inches from his head, the blaster bolt striking against the hull of the shuttle directly above him. Vytuia's voice played in his ear through his helmet's built-in radio even as Skaya made his mad dash for cover. A large, flat piece of metal half-buried in a mountain of junk looked to be his best bet. It was was one of the wings of a long defunct TIE Fighter, he guessed; not that where it came from mattered as much as its ability to absorb enemy fire. Malik slammed his shoulder up against the broken wing, several more blaster bolts flying passed him just as he disappeared behind it.

His first task was to crouch and peek, hoping to get a decent lay of the land before he decided the best course of action for taking the top of that hill. The first thing he noted was just how damned hard it was to pick out the natives from the terrain. They wore the same, drab browns and dirty grays that made up the junk and rock of Lothor Minor, allowing them to blend in even when they stood in plain view. There could be anywhere from five to twenty-five of them just on this hill and Skaya wouldn't know until they started shooting. The second thing he noted was just how aggressive they were. Even now, two of the bastards were running right at them with near-suicidal intent, like their lives didn't matter. Fanatacism, maybe? Or desperation?

Malik slid his scope up in front of his face, dragging it along the hillside. He counted out each individual muzzle flash he noticed, tallying them all up before moving the scope back over and double-checking his math. He popped up a shot whenever he thought he had a chance to land it, the E-11's stock smacking up against his shoulder with each gentle press of the trigger. Malik was no marksman, however, and the extraneous conditions on the field made his aim...questionable. "I count eight in total, including the gunner-" He started to speak over the comm, only for a blaster shot to fly right past his head and force him to duck into cover to avoid decapitation. That one came from somewhere else entirely. "Nine! Make that nine!"
Silent Night, Holy Night #3


???

Everything was black.

It had been so dark in the warehouse that Jaime couldn't see his hand in front of his face, but this...this was different. He could feel this darkness. It weighed heavy on his shoulders like an invisible thumb pressing against his back, moments away from squashing him like the insect he was. The shadows around him were thick enough that he felt slow pushing through them; it took considerable effort just to blink.

"Where the hell am I?" He muttered, his breath ragged. He was growing tired just trying to remain standing.

"That's a good word for it." Another voice echoed through the dark, bouncing around on the streams of shadow like the bang of a gunshot echoing through a canyon. Jaime couldn't tell where it was coming from; like it was sounding from everywhere yet nowhere all at once.

Something sharp pressed into the small of his back, slashing through layers of chitin and living metal until it kissed his flesh and drew a drop of blood. Jaime spun around, swinging his arm like a baseball bat to strike at whatever had stabbed him, but his arm found nothing but empty, noxious air.

"Hell." The sharpness slipped along Reyes's cheek as the voice called out in a taunting tone, dragging the unseen blade down his jawline, retreating a moment before the Blue Beetle could land a counter blow of his own.

Reyes felt heat rising in his cheeks. "Sorry, but I've met the devil and he is so much more intimidating than you." He held his hands up in front of his chest, listening carefully for even the slightest sound around him. The blaring static from his malfunctioning helmet made that quite difficult. Jaime waited, keeping perfectly still right up until he felt another strike land on his back. It tore through his armor with disturbing ease, taking another long chunk from his back and sending a spray of blood through the blackness.

He was struggling to keep it together. Every cut and stab caused him immense pain. Khaji Da had gone silent save for the obnoxious ringing in his ear, and the armor was doing next to nothing to protect him. Reyes felt exposed. And he felt alone.

"You're not like the other one." The shadows hissed again, menace and rage laced into every reverberating word. "Barely putting up a fight!"

'Other one?' Jaime furrowed his brow, his mind racing with questions even as he felt another agonizing slash race across his chest. He buried his concerns and swallowed his panic. He couldn't die here. Not after everything else he'd gone through. If the Silver Surfer couldn't kill Jaime Reyes then this two-bit phantom didn't stand a chance. He counted out the seconds in his head, his body turned slightly and his elbow locked in preparation. 'One. Two. Three-' Then he let it loose like a rocket, flinging it back just as he felt the knife touch his back. The elbow struck true against something solid. Something that audibly cried out at the contact.

"Ha!" Jaime celebrated, spinning around to throw another wide punch in the hopes of following up on his success. It went wide, but it did little to impede his reinforced morale. "Knew you weren't a fuckin' ghost!" It was a person- maybe a metahuman. If he could hit them, and if he could hurt them, that meant he could win.

His celebration was cut short when he felt a weight land on his back, forcing Jaime to stumble forward and nearly fall. Limbs wrapped around his waist and another around his throat. A moment later he felt something impale through his shoulder, slicing up muscle and sinew with ruthless efficiency. "DIE YOU BASTARD!" The shadow roared right in Reyes's ear as it pulled out the knife and plunged it right back in a few inches to the left. "Won't- won't let you hurt me again-"

Reyes took hold of the arm around his throat, squeezing down on it with all of his strength. Even if the armor wasn't doing much to protect him it still offered him the overwhelming physical prowess needed to snap bone between his fingers. The shadow let out a pained, almost pathetic yelp as Jaime broke its wrist and dragged it from his back. He threw it to the floor, an audible CRACK! sounding as it made impact.

"You came at me!" Reyes snarled between panted breaths, holding steadfast to the broken arm to keep his attacker from scrambling away. He shuffled forward, his hand moving through the dark until he found something solid to take a hold of. Now he had...whoever it was pinned to the ground. All they could do was flail and thrash uselessly against the infinitely stronger Reyes. "Now who the hell are you?! Where'd you take me, and where'd my friends go?!" He demanded, ignoring the pain that stretched across his body.

The metahuman wasn't speaking anymore. All it gave were anguished whimpers as it continued to fling itself around in a desperate and useless bid to escape from Beetle.

"What 'other one' were you talking about? Another person-"

"Another MONSTER!" The shadow person screamed. Now that the fighting had stopped and Jaime was close enough to it to hear, the voice sounded feminine. And it sounded angry. And scared. "Let me go, damn it- LET ME FUCKING GO!"

Jaime felt his heart drop into his stomach. He'd been called a lot of things over the last few months. Criminal, terrorist, murderer- but that was a new one, and it hurt a great deal more than all the rest. Jaime loosed his grip, only holding on enough to ensure she couldn't slip away without causing the metahuman too much unnecessary pain. After a moment's hesitation, he willed his helmet to peel away, exposing his sweat-soaked face. His human face.

Struggling to keep his voice even, Reyes spoke as calmly and quietly as he could. "I don't want to hurt you." He promised. "I didn't come here to hurt you. I just wanna talk."

She stopped thrashing, though she still refused to speak. The static that once clogged his hearing left with the helmet. Now all he could hear was their shared ragged and pained breathing. Silence otherwise hung with the same weight as the darkness. Minutes passed before the other metahuman finally spoke, her throat raw and her voice ragged with pain. "The other one would've killed me by now." She muttered hoarsely. Again she went quiet, and again she waited a few moments before coming to a decision. "Okay. I...trust you."

Then Jaime felt the floor give out from underneath him.

He fell through the black, emerging to the blinding light of the moon and the stink of old fish in the air. He was back in Metropolis, standing over a woman perhaps only a few years his elder. Her dark flesh and curly, black locks were as slicked with sweat as his own, and her eyes were glazed over with pain and exhaustion. Reyes slipped his hands off of her only to slip them underneath her arms to keep the taller metahuman from falling over- it took a great deal of effort for Reyes not to collapse with the extra weight placed upon his torn and cut shoulders. "You really did a number on me, chica." He groaned, stumbling toward a nearby stack of crates that they could rest upon.

She just laughed, practically throwing herself at the first box they came upon. Despite the questionable quality of the wood, it looked like the most comfortable thing she'd ever sat on at the moment. "Expected more from you, to be honest." She rasped, a hint of an Indochinese accent peeking through.

"Hurtful." Reyes chortled. He took a second to catch his breath, casting his gaze around their lonely surroundings. Tall, abandoned warehouses stretched on for miles all around then. The one he, Paco and Brenda had entered was just on the other side of the street, yet there was no sign of their of his companions. "Where'd they go?" He asked, casting his gaze over toward the unnamed metahuman.

"...I don't know." She answered, a hint of fear in her voice. "I didn't take them with me. Just you."

Jaime was relatively sure she was telling the truth- which made him all the more worried. They should've been there. "Guys? GUYS?" He called out as loudly as he could, listening to the sound of his voice echo through the warehouse district. No reply came, save for the returning reverb of his own cry.

"GUYS?" He asked again, shoving himself off of his resting point. Jaime only made it a few feet forward before he tripped and stumbled, landing on his knees. "Where the hell did they go?" The only answer the night had for him was silence.
G R A V E S

• Tʜᴇ Dᴜɴɢᴇᴏɴ •



Graves was nearly taken off his feet when Arnaakus shook the dungeon interior like a child shaking his present on Christmas morning. The sheer force of the demon's rampage was enough to make him stumble, his halber'd butt jammed hard in the stone to keep him from tumbling onto his back. "God damn it!" He howled, his expression twisting in an ugly, angry snarl as he stared up at the towering titan that threatened to end them all. Their backline was hitting the thing with everything they had, but it had barely made a difference. There had to be something they were missing here; some weakness they hadn't exposed.

He wasn't given the time to think it over, though, as Arnaakus had started his next attack. A gargantuan arm of frozen ice as tough as steel and taller than Graves was beginning to sweep across the chamber with frightening rapidity. Rael had grabbed Tiferet and dragged her away from the incoming hand, but Graves felt his stomach sink as he realized he wouldn't be able to avoid it: too slow to go around, too heavy to go over, and likely unable to survive what was coming his way.

'Don't think about it.' He told himself, his eyes shifting to those around him. There had to be something he could do. Flower boy was closest, and though he looked a deal more agile than Graves, the Blood Knight wasn't taking any chances. He sprinted over to Ochre, a hand wrapping about the scruff of his neck. "Climb!" It was the only word Graves was able to get out before the sweeping limb was nearly atop them. He reeled back, tossing Ochre with all of the strength he could muster, watching for that brief second before impact as flower boy managed to scramble over top the arm and fall off the other side, safe and sound.

Graves and Vulcan weren't so lucky.

There was a sickeningly loud crunch like the sound of a beetle being crushed under a man's heel. Graves felt his breath catch in his throat, his lungs compressing as several bones began to snap and break in a concert of violence and cruelty. Something hot and sticky dripped down his face, and there was this...enormous pressure all over his body. He couldn't explain the sensations in any sort of meaningful language; his mind was too clouded by shock to properly grasp that he was inches away from having his organs flattened in a mass of gore and blood.

Then the pressure was abruptly brought off of him, and he felt himself fall away from the wall. Crumbling stone landed atop his back as his face slammed against the floor. He struggled to take air into his lungs with short, desperate gasps, the agony in his body amplifying with each passing second. The shock was beginning to wear off now. He was becoming more aware of his surroundings; more aware of the fact that half of his limbs refused to budge. Graves forced his only working arm backward, fumbling around for his potion belt. His fingers brushed through a great deal of broken glass before he managed to find one that had managed to survive the impact.

Even as he lifted the healing potion to his lips, he was keenly aware that he wasn't the only one lying on the floor- but he was the only one that had started moving.

Despite his condition and the pounding ache in his head, Graves was more than able to hear the explosion that rippled out like thunder from Arnaakus's head. Someone- maybe Landon, or the Pyromancer- had landed a lucky blow directly through the demon's eye, and the resulting explosion had blown a giant chunk out of Arnaakus's skull, revealing the glowing mass of what could only be assumed to be its brain. Realizing its predicament, the beast let out an agonized roar, lifting up one arm to protect it's exposed organ while the other began to smash into the ground in the vague direction of its attackers in the hopes of squashing them like the obnoxious little gnats that they were. Each blow caused the room to quake, sprays of broken cobblestone and dirt flying in every direction to make the scene even more chaotic than it already was.
Silent Night, Holy Night #3


???

Everything was black.

It had been so dark in the warehouse that Jaime couldn't see his hand in front of his face, but this...this was different. He could feel this darkness. It weighed heavy on his shoulders like an invisible thumb pressing against his back, moments away from squashing him like the insect he was. The shadows around him were thick enough that he felt slow pushing through them; it took considerable effort just to blink.

"Where the hell am I?" He muttered, his breath ragged. He was growing tired just trying to remain standing.

"That's a good word for it." Another voice echoed through the dark, bouncing around on the streams of shadow like the bang of a gunshot echoing through a canyon. Jaime couldn't tell where it was coming from; like it was sounding from everywhere yet nowhere all at once.

Something sharp pressed into the small of his back, slashing through layers of chitin and living metal until it kissed his flesh and drew a drop of blood. Jaime spun around, swinging his arm like a baseball bat to strike at whatever had stabbed him, but his arm found nothing but empty, noxious air.

"Hell." The sharpness slipped along Reyes's cheek as the voice called out in a taunting tone, dragging the unseen blade down his jawline, retreating a moment before the Blue Beetle could land a counter blow of his own.

Reyes felt heat rising in his cheeks. "Sorry, but I've met the devil and he is so much more intimidating than you." He held his hands up in front of his chest, listening carefully for even the slightest sound around him. The blaring static from his malfunctioning helmet made that quite difficult. Jaime waited, keeping perfectly still right up until he felt another strike land on his back. It tore through his armor with disturbing ease, taking another long chunk from his back and sending a spray of blood through the blackness.

He was struggling to keep it together. Every cut and stab caused him immense pain. Khaji Da had gone silent save for the obnoxious ringing in his ear, and the armor was doing next to nothing to protect him. Reyes felt exposed. And he felt alone.

"You're not like the other one." The shadows hissed again, menace and rage laced into every reverberating word. "Barely putting up a fight!"

'Other one?' Jaime furrowed his brow, his mind racing with questions even as he felt another agonizing slash race across his chest. He buried his concerns and swallowed his panic. He couldn't die here. Not after everything else he'd gone through. If the Silver Surfer couldn't kill Jaime Reyes then this two-bit phantom didn't stand a chance. He counted out the seconds in his head, his body turned slightly and his elbow locked in preparation. 'One. Two. Three-' Then he let it loose like a rocket, flinging it back just as he felt the knife touch his back. The elbow struck true against something solid. Something that audibly cried out at the contact.

"Ha!" Jaime celebrated, spinning around to throw another wide punch in the hopes of following up on his success. It went wide, but it did little to impede his reinforced morale. "Knew you weren't a fuckin' ghost!" It was a person- maybe a metahuman. If he could hit them, and if he could hurt them, that meant he could win.

His celebration was cut short when he felt a weight land on his back, forcing Jaime to stumble forward and nearly fall. Limbs wrapped around his waist and another around his throat. A moment later he felt something impale through his shoulder, slicing up muscle and sinew with ruthless efficiency. "DIE YOU BASTARD!" The shadow roared right in Reyes's ear as it pulled out the knife and plunged it right back in a few inches to the left. "Won't- won't let you hurt me again-"

Reyes took hold of the arm around his throat, squeezing down on it with all of his strength. Even if the armor wasn't doing much to protect him it still offered him the overwhelming physical prowess needed to snap bone between his fingers. The shadow let out a pained, almost pathetic yelp as Jaime broke its wrist and dragged it from his back. He threw it to the floor, an audible CRACK! sounding as it made impact.

"You came at me!" Reyes snarled between panted breaths, holding steadfast to the broken arm to keep his attacker from scrambling away. He shuffled forward, his hand moving through the dark until he found something solid to take a hold of. Now he had...whoever it was pinned to the ground. All they could do was flail and thrash uselessly against the infinitely stronger Reyes. "Now who the hell are you?! Where'd you take me, and where'd my friends go?!" He demanded, ignoring the pain that stretched across his body.

The metahuman wasn't speaking anymore. All it gave were anguished whimpers as it continued to fling itself around in a desperate and useless bid to escape from Beetle.

"What 'other one' were you talking about? Another person-"

"Another MONSTER!" The shadow person screamed. Now that the fighting had stopped and Jaime was close enough to it to hear, the voice sounded feminine. And it sounded angry. And scared. "Let me go, damn it- LET ME FUCKING GO!"

Jaime felt his heart drop into his stomach. He'd been called a lot of things over the last few months. Criminal, terrorist, murderer- but that was a new one, and it hurt a great deal more than all the rest. Jaime loosed his grip, only holding on enough to ensure she couldn't slip away without causing the metahuman too much unnecessary pain. After a moment's hesitation, he willed his helmet to peel away, exposing his sweat-soaked face. His human face.

Struggling to keep his voice even, Reyes spoke as calmly and quietly as he could. "I don't want to hurt you." He promised. "I didn't come here to hurt you. I just wanna talk."

She stopped thrashing, though she still refused to speak. The static that once clogged his hearing left with the helmet. Now all he could hear was their shared ragged and pained breathing. Silence otherwise hung with the same weight as the darkness. Minutes passed before the other metahuman finally spoke, her throat raw and her voice ragged with pain. "The other one would've killed me by now." She muttered hoarsely. Again she went quiet, and again she waited a few moments before coming to a decision. "Okay. I...trust you."

Then Jaime felt the floor give out from underneath him.

He fell through the black, emerging to the blinding light of the moon and the stink of old fish in the air. He was back in Metropolis, standing over a woman perhaps only a few years his elder. Her dark flesh and curly, black locks were as slicked with sweat as his own, and her eyes were glazed over with pain and exhaustion. Reyes slipped his hands off of her only to slip them underneath her arms to keep the taller metahuman from falling over- it took a great deal of effort for Reyes not to collapse with the extra weight placed upon his torn and cut shoulders. "You really did a number on me, chica." He groaned, stumbling toward a nearby stack of crates that they could rest upon.

She just laughed, practically throwing herself at the first box they came upon. Despite the questionable quality of the wood, it looked like the most comfortable thing she'd ever sat on at the moment. "Expected more from you, to be honest." She rasped, a hint of an Indochinese accent peeking through.

"Hurtful." Reyes chortled. He took a second to catch his breath, casting his gaze around their lonely surroundings. Tall, abandoned warehouses stretched on for miles all around then. The one he, Paco and Brenda had entered was just on the other side of the street, yet there was no sign of their of his companions. "Where'd they go?" He asked, casting his gaze over toward the unnamed metahuman.

"...I don't know." She answered, a hint of fear in her voice. "I didn't take them with me. Just you."

Jaime was relatively sure she was telling the truth- which made him all the more worried. They should've been there. "Guys? GUYS?" He called out as loudly as he could, listening to the sound of his voice echo through the warehouse district. No reply came, save for the returning reverb of his own cry.

"GUYS?" He asked again, shoving himself off of his resting point. Jaime only made it a few feet forward before he tripped and stumbled, landing on his knees. "Where the hell did they go?" The only answer the night had for him was silence.
Finna gonna work on a post today. Maybe read some'a the IC too, since I'm kinda behind on it and am definitely not just starting page two.
Actually posting? In my UOU thread? Ha.

also has anyone else noticed that uou looks a lot like an uwu face??

Op. No. KY-9914; Pvt. Malik Skaya
121st Battalion, Bravo Company, 1st Platoon, Alpha Squad
Lothor Minor | Entering Atmosphere aboard Imperial Shuttle
APPROX. 1200HRS; 5 BBY



Little time was given to Skaya to speak with his squadmates, the chaos of deployment sweeping him up and forcing him into formation with the rest of the troopers. He fought to remain still and at attention, choking down the jittering in his hands. A thousand worries were running through his head even as Sergeant Vytuia tried to ease the tension they all no doubt felt. It didn't do much for Malik's nerves, his gaze flickering about the rest of the team.

He didn't know a single man that stood beside him. He didn't know which of them he could trust to have his back and which of them he needed to be weary of. The academy had beat it into Skaya's head that he needed to be able to have full confidence in each and every trooper in the Corps, but experience had taught him otherwise. This was his chance to make a good first impression and he had to do everything in his power to keep from screwing that up. In an effort to calm the storm in his soul he did as he had done since he was just a bo: he bowed his head and gave a silent prayer for protection and guidance.'Keep watch over me and stay my enemy's hand,' He thought, his jaw clenched to keep his teeth from chattering. 'give me either the strength to triumph over this foe or the will to pass into your presence with grace and honor.'

The sound of a hundred boots against steel rang out as they loaded into the transports. Malik slipped down into his chair and strapped himself in, his rifle laid out on his lap as he fought against the urge to bounce his leg. Anxiousness and excitement swirled about in tandem in his heart, sending waves of adrenaline coursing through him. This wasn't his first mission- far from it, in fact- but he could never shake that initial surge of emotions that came with stepping aboard the transports. Once he was seated and Vytuia began explaining the mission, however, Skaya's full attention shifted to his squad leader. He mulled over every word and considered every possibility, taking in the holographic map and committing it to memory- he needed to be able to successfully navigate the facility on the off chance that his Heads Up Display malfunctioned.

Once the time came for questions Malik cleared his throat, bringing up a hand to catch the sergeant's attention. "How important is it that the facility remains intact?" He asked with a tilt of his head. "Will we be able to use thermal detonators inside or should such destruction be avoided?"

Op. No. KY-9914; Pvt. Malik Skaya
121st Battalion, Bravo Company, 1st Platoon, Alpha Squad
Lothor Minor | Entering Atmosphere aboard Imperial Shuttle
APPROX. 1200HRS; 5 BBY



Little time was given to Skaya to speak with his squadmates, the chaos of deployment sweeping him up and forcing him into formation with the rest of the troopers. He fought to remain still and at attention, choking down the jittering in his hands. A thousand worries were running through his head even as Sergeant Vytuia tried to ease the tension they all no doubt felt. It didn't do much for Malik's nerves, his gaze flickering about the rest of the team.

He didn't know a single man that stood beside him. He didn't know which of them he could trust to have his back and which of them he needed to be weary of. The academy had beat it into Skaya's head that he needed to be able to have full confidence in each and every trooper in the Corps, but experience had taught him otherwise. This was his chance to make a good first impression and he had to do everything in his power to keep from screwing that up. In an effort to calm the storm in his soul he did as he had done since he was just a bo: he bowed his head and gave a silent prayer for protection and guidance.'Keep watch over me and stay my enemy's hand,' He thought, his jaw clenched to keep his teeth from chattering. 'give me either the strength to triumph over this foe or the will to pass into your presence with grace and honor.'

The sound of a hundred boots against steel rang out as they loaded into the transports. Malik slipped down into his chair and strapped himself in, his rifle laid out on his lap as he fought against the urge to bounce his leg. Anxiousness and excitement swirled about in tandem in his heart, sending waves of adrenaline coursing through him. This wasn't his first mission- far from it, in fact- but he could never shake that initial surge of emotions that came with stepping aboard the transports. Once he was seated and Vytuia began explaining the mission, however, Skaya's full attention shifted to his squad leader. He mulled over every word and considered every possibility, taking in the holographic map and committing it to memory- he needed to be able to successfully navigate the facility on the off chance that his Heads Up Display malfunctioned.

Once the time came for questions Malik cleared his throat, bringing up a hand to catch the sergeant's attention. "How important is it that the facility remains intact?" He asked with a tilt of his head. "Will we be able to use thermal detonators inside or should such destruction be avoided?"
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