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Post by Edzilla on Nov 8, 2012 7:29:49 GMT
Novembers closing in, New York can be a cold place this time of year. But you cannot lay dormant, at least not this year. People, different colours, creeds and social stature are dieing. Man and women, child and pensioner, senators are murdered in the same number as the homeless. Now the death count has reached 19. Death number 19, the First Lady. Police have been trying to find the killer for so many months. Everyday message are shown on the News, how the psychopath who is doing this is one step from the electric chair. How he'll be in within the next month, the truth... far different. No policeman or detective wants within a mile of this case. Wives and children are threatened, the killer has struck anywhere at anytime. Deaths from California to Vermont, the killer has grabbed the worlds most powerful country by the neck and is watching it suffocate, one death at a time Recently the Chinese government mocked the USA for being held to ransom by a petty killer, the man who issued the statement was found dead just a day later. The kill was minutes from geographically impossible yet it was made, the message was clear even if it wasn't written. Stay out of my business, or China is next. No more statement were issued on the topic. The kill has a two recurring features, all of the kills are linked except 5. Normally the deaths are related to a member of the still living. Secondly all of the corpses are found next to a self winding music box, constantly chiming away a rhythm of some song, different in every case, often ironic, for example the wife of a detective, heavily involved in the case , was found dead with a music box playing "Wet Sand" by the red hot chilli peppers,face down in a fairly empty area of North Miami, water slowly washing over the body which lay on the sand of a beautiful beach. The victim was said to have drowned, although not forcefully. These whimsical little boxes have earned the killer many names such as the Musical killer, the chiming homicide and the tune assassin. Only one has stuck, first dreamed up by Fox News, the Rhythm Murderer a name which did not make people run for the hills, there were no screams, not even a sound. Only the gentle noise of the music box and a whole nation held in silence.
I figured I may as well start another one up, it has been awhile, however this time we will have some variation, this is not a high octane rp. Yes there will be moments of shooting, but most of this is based around plot and character development.
Name: Age: any you wish Nationality: I would expect atleast one or two of you to be American, however you can be of any nationality, atleast one different would make the story slightly more interesting. Profession: police officer, journalist, civilian are all suggestions, you could probably be a criminal Appearance: As always make it descriptive i.e. how tall, eye colour, weight, build, hair colour, picture links are great as always Bio: If your a civilian you should be linked to the murders in some way. Either way make this as long as possible. Race: Your human, in a none magical world, no psychic powers or super powers Equipment: essentially what your character always carries, keep guns to a relative minimum, although anyone including civilians can have a hand gun (this is America after all)
I won't be playing any characters, although I will be playing NPCs and the killer. So basically this RP is about long, descriptive and developing posts, which could lead to a number of endings, if the killer is killed, by chair or personally you win but that's only if you do the rift things.
Now post
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Post by Esiphas on Nov 8, 2012 8:21:50 GMT
Name- Jack "Dash" Dashwood. Age- 23 Nationality- British Proffesion- Assassin. Appearance- Jack is a tall man, 6'10" in height. He's not easily missed in a criwd, but he does have a knack for finding hiding spots. He wears a Huge Black trench Coat and a Wide brimmed Black fedora, With Waist length black hair, which is always straight. He has dark green etes, which shine in tge light, and has a Friendly, easy to trust smile. His hands are riugh, covered in hard skin, but firm. He also carrys himself eith natural grace, despite his height. Bio- Jack began his Assassin Career in England. A large amount of money would be paid to him, And he woul eliminate Anyone. His weapon of choice is a Custom mafe Crossbow with Additional range, A self winding, Auto reloading device, crwated by Jacks Uncle. Jack was known as "Bolter" during his Career, and in the 5 years he was in the game, he was only caught out once. Jack was set up by his client, And Arrested on Charges of Murder and Possession of Illegal weaponry.
Jack Spent 6 months in jail, A time he found relaxing. The guards could never understand his Calm manner, total politeness and his lack of resistsnce. He grew quite friendly with the Guards, not enoygh for them to drop their guard, but enough he was allowed Alone Shower time, Special meals and Even an Escorted Visit to his disabled Grandfather- Hands cuffed, of course. Jack fully admitted his reasons for taking up Assassin as a career choice- he Was heavily in debt, and His Grandfather neeeded surgery.
With the death of the first lady, The FBI contacted Britain, asking for Jack. His reputation as a Huntsman, as well as an expert on stealth and quiet Killings, had reached America. Jack was, at first, reluctant to go- His family needed his support, and he was a wanted criminal. However, at his Sisters urging he lconceeded- his sister had veen a huge admirer of the firat lady. Jack left Jail, and was transported over to America on a firat class luxury jet. His job- paid for by a promise of Lesssened jail sentance- was to Help find the Rythm murderer. Race- Human, Causican, Male. Equipment- Weapons liscence, His crossbow, a pair of light handguns. (all provided by the CIA).
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Post by mantisstalker on Nov 8, 2012 8:42:57 GMT
Name: Zack Finch Age: 32 Nationality: An Australian that emigrated to America at the age of 30 Profession: Self proclaimed Private Detective (technically he would be a civilian) Appearance: Zack is a well built middle aged man about 6'7 in height, dark brown eyes, with a rather unrecognizable, unsaved face that carries little intimidation with it other than the long scar that runs from his bottom lip to his chin. He has a full head of black close cut hair that is usually covered by a tattered brown bowler hat. Other than that he wears a set of simple brown trousers with a brown shirt, covered with a tan ankle length trench coat. He's pretty hard to pick out in a crowd but often finds that others don't think he's up to the job because of his plain features.
Bio: Even when Zack worked for the department of homicide back in Perth he was considered down right unlucky. He could count the amount of cases he had busted on one hand and the number of rejections he got from women where near impossible to consider. Despite this he never let it get him down always having a sort of apoco-optimism about his life, always hoping it would come out all right in the end. And after nearly six years on the force they did and he achieved the impossible, he managed to get a girl. They met soon after he decided to quite the force and both wanting a fresh start and decided to move to the land of the free, America.
However it was soon after this that life remembered how funny it was to make Zack's life hard, and he soon found himself jobless in a unknown country with a wife to support. But even this didn't last long however as after another day of unsuccessfully finding a job he arrived home to find it ablaze with nothing but a small music box playing "Disco Inferno" next to the door. Ever since he has been searching for who killed his true love, becoming a self proclaimed P.I to to support himself. He now lives in his small office with nothing but a loaded peace and his forever positive personality to keep him company. Other than the odd meal little other than his underlying craving for revenge keeps him running.
Race: A hairless ape better known as a human Equipment: 45. magnum with extra ammo (even though he hardly hits anything with it.), a set of handcuffs, what little money he has and a hip flask of whiskey for those cold nights.
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Post by The ranger on Nov 8, 2012 13:30:07 GMT
Name:Yuri Vladimir Stucove Age: 45 Nationality: Russian Profession: Forcefully retired Russian Secret Police Appearance: Yuri is 5'9 200lbs built in pure muscular structure, he has a rugged looking beard and a scar down his right eye his hair is croped short black, he has blue eyes, pale skin. Bio: Yuri was part of a secret police force in Russia. one of the hardest police forces in the world. he stopped crimes and murders by himself until the day he was forcefully retired by the prime minister in Moscow. days later he took a plane to America for vacation until he heard of the murders, this would be his chance to keep doing something he loves Race: Human (duh)
Equipment: Trench coat brown with a soviet hammer and sickle over the world on his back of the coat and the word CCCP on the front right. a Russian wool hat with the hammer and sickle on it, a Markov pistol silencer, extended mag and enhanced sights. a soviet Desert eagle. a Markov quick release holster. his flask of vodka and a pipe to smoke like a old guy.
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Post by Rakuall on Nov 8, 2012 17:38:01 GMT
Mantis and Carnofex, I think by race (since human is the only option) Edzilla is looking for Skin tone. Caucasian, Asian, Black, Native, Indian, etc.
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Post by Edzilla on Nov 8, 2012 17:43:21 GMT
Not particularly, I was just trying to make the point that this is a rp set in the modern day, so no 40k aliens or mutants or demons etc
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Post by Esiphas on Nov 9, 2012 11:48:12 GMT
When are we starting?
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Post by Tyamius, Shadow Lord on Nov 9, 2012 14:27:04 GMT
Name: Timothy "Blackjack" O'Connell Age: 29 Nationality: Irish, immigrated around age 3 Profession: Ex Military, Navy SEALS Appearance: Bio: Blackjack was discharged after the assassination of Saddam Hussan, his team disbanded and he had no one. His family was all dead and he had never bothered to branch out and start a family before he went into service. He was one of the best stealth operatives the service could ask for and now with the murders he has been called back into action to watch "Dash" and capture whoever was causing the murders. Equipment: Backpack, MREs, Lockpick set, comm device, Two P226 MK5 pistols, Weapons license, and a MP7 SMG. MP7 is small enough to fit into a backback. P226 MK5s are in shoulder holsters.
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Post by Esiphas on Nov 9, 2012 15:07:03 GMT
Awww, Come on, A watch dog?
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Post by Yuno on Nov 9, 2012 15:49:14 GMT
Name: Rei Rin'Sayuri Age: 19 Nationality: Japanese Profession: Professional Coder and Hacker Appearance: Rei is of obvious Japanese decent, her hair is short and choppy black with streaks of white and blue dyed into it. Her eyes are unusual for her culture in that they are grey-green. Although an American might not realize it, Rei is exceptionally beautiful in her home country. Bio: Rei Rin'Sayuri was born to two middle class Japanese parents who had little time for their daughter in their busy work schedules. That was fine by Rei, she never expected attention and found many ways to occupy herself. Around the time she turned 11 she had developed a deep interest in coding and more particularly hacking. By the time she was 16 she was known across 3 continents by her hack name "Amaterasu" for her daring and always successful hacks. By the time she was 19 she'd seen jail time for one of her top secret security hacks. After this she calmed down a bit and stuck to hacking google and apple for money. Having never seen a college degree in her life she was lucky enough to nail Google's latest expansion and land a job working for them. With this she moved to America already having learned their language for a hack several years before. When the murders began she started using desk time to research the murders and compare police files on it. Race: human Equipment: She wears black converse shoes, black jeans, and a usually messy band t-shirt. Unless she's at work then to keep them quiet she wears black heels with a pencil skirt and white button down. Her equipment includes top of the line cellphone, a tablet, and a laptop.
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Post by Edzilla on Nov 9, 2012 16:59:53 GMT
Well we got the right sought of amount, so now if you want, you all approved.
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Post by Yuno on Nov 9, 2012 18:42:51 GMT
The sound of people shuffling about in their cubicles, typing, clicking, a little flirting, and the habitual sound of paid time wasted. Rei sat in her squishy spin chair one leg folded over the other in what she'd learned was considered lady-like. She sipped at a mug of tea while studying the screen looking for where the code had broken down. On the next screen she had left a program running that was breaking into several journalist's computers at once...she needed to know what they knew about this Rhythm killer. She grinned as she found the missing piece and coded in fixing the issue. With one hand she opened a new email and sent her boss the fixes with the other she pulled out her cellphone briefly responding to some texts from her family. Her phone rang and she picked it up, "Hello this is Rei." she said in perfect english although her accent was still strong. "Hey Rei. It's Cali. Listen did you get my email about some breakdowns in the coding base?" she sighed, "Yes I did..this isn't my department...so why am I seeing it?" She heard Cali pause and she took advantage of this moment to check her hack pleased to see it was several hours off of breaking through. "Well I thought you might...I mean you're the company's new girl for this..." Rei sighed, "I'll find it for you, but you owe me." She hung up setting to work on finding the memos in question. When she finished that it was time to go for the day. The walk to her penthouse wasn't far. She walked through the door as her dog Yuki came running in barking. She grinned as she put her bag on the counter and pulled off her coat talking to the dog in Japanese. She moved to change into her comfortable clothing and feed the dog before sitting down to her desktop. She pulled up her hack remotely from here pleased to see it finished. Her eyes fell over the articles, photos, and secret sources these major writers didn't let the world in on. She opened her laptop and began looking up the songs the killer had used recently. Once she had that she began on a program to detect any similiarities and musical taste... Her cellphone rang and she picked it up, "Hey Rei." She smiled lightly, "Hey Joe...whats up.." she pressed the phone against her shoulder and continued typing. "Bunch of us are going to the club." She hummed into the phone still working, "We wondered if you might like to come?" Her fingers flew over the keys, "Sure. What time. You know I'm not old enough to drink right. At least not in this country." "Yeah neither am I, we'll getchu in. Don't worry. Meet in an hour at the Pumping Jive?" She agreed clicking the phone and glancing at the clock. She'd have to leave soon. She stood walking the dog outside and then moving to find a hoodie to wear. She pulled it on and put her phone in her pocket. She pulled her tote bag over her shoulder and walked out the door.
The club was loud, the music pumping as the name promised. They had indeed gotten her past the door. Lights of all colors flashed as people drank, flirted, and danced. Drugs were being passed around with little care for the law. Joe had taken some and then pulled her to the floor under the pretense of learning how her culture danced. She grinned, the Americans didn't come close to how hard she'd partied in Japan. The grinding body smacking that Joe called dancing was nothing compared to some of the things she'd seen...and done. She grinned as he pulled her off the floor towards a darker corner where he started kissing her neck. She pulled out her phone checking the two programs, "I'm hurt, what's more important than this." his speech was slurred by drugs and booze. She grinned kissing him briefly before pushing him away, "You're drunk. Go home Joe...the party isn't for you." he stumbled after her as she pulled on her hood accepting a pill from a junkie as she went for the door. She could hear him screaming her name all the way home. She took the pill and fell asleep on a high.
Morning came quick and bright. She turned on the tv and climbed into the shower scrubbing the scent of club and sweat off her body. "Another murder found this morning, a young man Joe Scalona" she fell out of the shower turning up the volume as she saw the face of her coworker plastered across the news.
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Post by The ranger on Nov 9, 2012 22:12:19 GMT
the plane ride was rough from Moscow to America, and Yuri hated flying. he looked over the notes again, murders with old songs. Yuri robed his brown and took a drink. a U.S official contacted him back in Moscow. a free plane ticket and a nice hotel room only if he helps stop this guy. he sighs not liking it but it was work money, the vodka in him helped drift to sleep slipping into a dream. the air was filled with smoke as him and 2 other busted in a door moving threw a warehouse AK-74us raised . it was a trafficking house and he didn't not like it in his town. 2 targets on a catwalk as him and his 2 squad mates fired dropping them both . each cleared a room one at a time firing on any hostiles in the area he came to a room where a man was upon a young girl. Yuri riped him off her and shoved him to the ground getting on top him and punching him in the face reputedly until there was nothing left to punch. they discharged him that day forcing him into retirement. he woke up as the plane started to land the young lady walking down the ile, not that bad to look at.
the plane landed and the government official met him right away taking him to the blacked out van and to the hotel, giving him all detail and info about the murders. Yuri nodded and drank as he steeped out and dragged his thinkgs to his room as he sat down on the bed and turned the TV on watching the news. that's when the new murder happened. at that he grabbed his coat made sure he had some cash and his guns as he left the hotel and took a taxi all the way there
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Post by Edzilla on Nov 9, 2012 22:21:44 GMT
The man walked up to the stand, almost every single eye in America rested on this man. Every single voice was held and every single mind was in panic, even if the faces showed a awe like sorrow. This wasn't a funeral but it sure felt like it and it it was, this man was the minister. Who'd have known the president would ever have to play the part. "Citizens of New York, it is with greatest..." He paused, his tongue stuck on the word. "Sadness, that I must tell you," it was obvious for the whole of America and indeed the whole of the planet, this mysterious assassin had reduced one of the most powerful men in the world, to fighting back tears. "Your... First Lady... my wife, died in hospital, of asphyxiation..."
4 hours earlier
"Where is my husband, what the hell is going on!" A look of distress was plastered over her face. A rather bulky looking man, his faced concealed by dark shades, "standard procedure, it's for your own safety." His expression seemed relatively calm, even if it was barely visible in the darkness of the bunker. A switched was flicked and the First Lady's face was lit up, the look of fear even more prevalent. "But I want to be with my husband!" She was very stubborn. "It for his and your safety, now calm down!" She scowled, "your just trying to limit the damage." The face of the tall man changed, as if he'd just been caught out. "Look it's not a choice, and this is the safest place on the planet, nothing could hurt you here, helll its even got hot water, so relax, your safe." The scowl on her face didn't leave, she just walked off into the massive bunker. What she didn't know is that somewhere a key had been pressed, the boiler had been hijacked. Now carbon monoxide spilled into the bunker, it's luxuory was the First Lady's doom. By the time she was found, she wasn't conscious and by the time the medics had reached her, she was dead. Atleast it had been painless, many other received far worse.
At this point the Vice President took over ,"that will do sir, I will finish it for you." He looked out to the crowd as the President left, the sound of a car promptly leaving the only audible sound in New York. Unusually the Vice President seemed fairly resolute, a small bulwark amongst a country near collapse. "It is believed she died from carbon monoxide poisoning, however we have a message for this cowardly murderer, this country will not stand idle while you go about your despicable acts." He took off his glasses now looking towards the Empire State Building. "Be afraid, we will find you and we will kill you." He abruptly left. Yuri got into the taxi, mentioned some place name, the drier didn't listen. Instead all the doors locked as the driver pulled on a gas mask, that was when he knew something was wrong. He felt his eyes grow heavy as he realised that the room was filling with gas. He started laughing confirming it was nitreous oxide, laughing gas. With that thought he blacked out. The feed on Rei's computer stream ended, Jack's TV was turned off. They were in far safer areas than the Russian. He was flanked by two men, taller and no less strong. He was being led down a corridor, lit by blue lights that gave the plae a dingy appearance. He wasn't safe, no one in this part of New York was. Organised crime ruled this area as warlords, the main two groups constantly competing over territory and money, both though owned infamy beyond compare, the police had simply cordoned this area off years ago, the problem deemed unsolvable years ago. The 3 men reached the end of the corridor, a black wooden door was opened and he was shoved inside. There he saw a desk, two men armed with automatic shotguns, one man sitting behind the desk noticeably less of a figure than the others. "Yuri,my friend," he was of Dominican descent, his accent obviously told so. "Perhaps you don't know me, my name is Domico Santos, but you can call me Juan.." He smirked, "Sorry for the kidnapping, hate to do that to... friends but I couldn't imagine another way of getting you here." He stood up and walked over to a impoverished looking drinks cabinet and retrieved a bottle of vodka. "I got this especially for you, apparently you like it... or perhaps I'm stereotyping you." He laughed, actively amused by his own joke. "Anyway, your fairly famous around here, your exploits in particular." He opened a draw under a desk and pulled out a file. "I'm sure you've heard of the Rytmn killer, a genius I must say, we want you to find him and brig his body back, alive preferably. In return you will receive 30 million dollars, a high place in this corporation plus we will arm and assist you throughout your assignment." His face went from amicable to stern ,"I'd suggest saying yes, otherwise you will never leave this building... we have a special room for you.." His face became friendly once again ,"so what do you say, wouldn't you love to be doing what you were born to do again?"
"Sad isn't it, she was a remarkable lady," the man was suited in blue with a velvet red tie. He was looking into a surgical room where several surgeons carried out an autopsy . "I hope you enjoyed your flight, in took a while to get you out of prison, who knew David Cameron could be so stubborn.. Anyway, I'd like you to follow me to my office 'dash'." He began to walk down the hall, on either side doors with operations none of the public knew. The corridor stretched for what felt like a mile, only after seeing it could he know the true scale of the Pentagon. After a conversationless walk they arrived at the mans office. A name card sat on the mahogany desk, reading 'Mark Thomas' the name didn't register but the position did, FBI. "So I'm sure you've heard of this Rhythm murderer and what he's managed and how we are apparently one step away from catching him." His voice became grave ,"that's all a lie, we have no idea where this guy is, what he looks like, we don't even know whether he is a he... " he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver box which had a wind up crank on it ," your British, maybe you recognise the song," He pulled the crank , it began to spin fairly rapidly, he'd heard the song before, but he'd never listened ,"Breathe" by the Prodigy. "How tasteless, but we can deduce something from it, the song is primarily about hallucigenics so that might be his next weapon, sometimes he leaves a note, that how we knew that the president was the target, but It was slightly more cryptic than we imagined." He looked at the assassin, his voice becoming very matter of fact, "we need him dead or alive, you will not receive any backing and you cannot take any credit. The people must know that America dealt with this man, even if we didn't. Should you succeed we will give you whatever you want, sky's the limit... Understand." Before he could answer, he saw out of the corner of his eye, a man looking into the room, although he didn't know him yet h would be soon. The marines hard eyes felt piercing, full of cold, perhaps he felt the pain of the rest of the country.
OOC- Namine and Mantiss, I give you the challenge of getting yourself involved, you can try and team up with the others or you can act independently, it's your choice, but I've set it so you both just seen the Presidents speech, Rei at her computer.
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Post by Tyamius, Shadow Lord on Nov 9, 2012 22:46:32 GMT
A rap came at Mark Thomas' door. "Sir! Timothy O'Connell, reporting." A thick accent hung on his words as did the light touch of whiskey, still left over from the night before. "You must be Jack, funny we share something in common, the name's Blackjack." Tim cared not for what the mission was only to get back to his favorite pub and knock back shots with his only remaining friend, the bartender Jeremy.
"I'm your watchdog, Dash, and I'm probably the only one who would ever catch you should you make a break for it." Blackjack was cocky in every sense of the word, he was in the top 5 snipers of the country, the best lockpick in a decade, and the 7th best tracker in the world. Jack was on his target list years ago when he was freelance but now he simply was another dog of the military for the time being.
"Sir, I was told to inform you that the President has been moved to Haven 306, and awaits your briefing on who is on this job." Blackjack said turning back to Mr.Thomas.
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