Realistic or Modern Reapers Saviors

[Mercy Anne]

Claire sat atop the roof of the Saviors' headquarters, a fortress whose looks deceived the untrained eye. The building was just high enough above the street lights for her to catch a glimpse of a few stars. As a child, she always dreamed of leaving the city and going somewhere deserted to count every star in the sky. She knows now that would be impossible, but she still dreams of seeing a sky full of stars. However, for now, the rooftop would have to do.


She leaned on the edge of the rooftop to look down upon the city below. She saw entire families laying together under one tattered blanket to fight the cold, and orphaned children huddled in groups to stay safe. Stray dogs rummaged through the trash, finally able to get a turn to scavenge while the homeless were asleep. She knew she was born lucky. She never felt starvation. She was never left to the elements, and she always had a place to call home.

​

The weakness of our enemy is our strength...



​

Prologue


(optional to read)
​

“Every day I see people moving about their daily routine without a worry in the world. The rich will pass children starving on our streets without a second glance, and the poor will pass them with a pitiful look. We have no middle class here, no one to help us. Everyone is either too rich to worry about us, or too poor to do anything about it. We fight off death with what little strength we have, but far too many of us lose the fight. Personally, I am one of the lucky ones. I’ve found a job that keeps my stomach full and my thirst quenched. I may not like what I do, but I must do it to survive.


“They came to me late August in an alley way between South Jefferson Street and 3rd. I was rummaging through Steve’s BBQ’s dumpster in hopes of finding a scrap of meat to keep me on my feet. One man was tall and moved with slow deliberate steps while the other, much shorter and chunkier, and couldn't seem to stand still. They were dressed as if they had just come from a funeral, and their scarred faces weren't too pleasant either. They offered me $500 if I would do them a favor. $500!?! I was lucky if I managed to scrape up $1 a week. Needless to say, I much too eagerly accepted and shook hands with the men, sealing my fate. They handed me a scrap of paper which had a name and an address and asked if I knew where it was. Of course I knew where it was; I knew every part of this God-forsaken city. Then they handed me a gun with one bullet. ‘If you can kill him with one shot, you’ll be dining daily at La Salon’ (the most expensive, most exclusive club in all of Darten). I knew I was getting myself into some deep shit when I pulled that trigger, but I needed the money to live. It was only one man…one bullet. I figured I wouldn't go to Hell for it. But then there were more…every week they came to me with more cash and more names. Soon I lost track of the bodies, and I lost track of myself. Every bullet took with it a piece of my soul, and sent me further and further towards eternal damnation, but I had made a deal. I couldn’t go back on my word. I wouldn’t go back on my word.


“Who am I? That’s none of your concern. My name’s long since disappeared from the books. All that matters is that I’m a Reaper, and you’d better run when I come your way, for your name may be on a scrap of paper in my pocket, along with one gun and one bullet.”



​

Story





Starvation fills the streets of Darten, and death plagues its inhabitants. The homeless fill the alleyways, and the cries of hungry children fill the ears of more fortunate passerby’s. Everyone who is lucky enough to have a roof over their heads is either too rich to give a damn or too poor to do anything. Though one solution brings many unfortunate men and women out of starvation, and that is to become a Reaper. Reapers are murderers, hired by a secret society whose name is not to be spoken of. Though they are paid generously, the men and women who accept the role of a reaper often live to regret it. They find their souls being torn away with every kill. Once their soul has been blackened with death, they are called in to become test subjects. Not caring about anymore about whether they live or die, and never planning on leaving or turning against the society, they are all willing to try anything. The society develops formulas that allow the reapers to become superhuman in a variety of ways. Some regenerate cells with lightning speed, some gain superhuman strength or speed, some become telepathic or telekinetic, some gain the ability to manipulate elements, and the list goes on and on. The idea behind developing these superhuman soldiers is make the society unstoppable and to ultimately send the world into chaos. But there is a force rising up against them.


Similar to the Reapers, there is a group who call themselves the Saviors. The Saviors' soul mission is to find and kill the Reapers in hopes of repairing the Country's chaotic misfortunes and restoring peace throughout the nation. They, too, have begun to create a superhuman army to fight back with all their might.


Where do you stand? What will you do to survive?





Reapers:


Damien Ethen


Ash Vitaly


Danil Veller


Saviors:


Claire Raphenel


Vyncent Bartholomew


Daniel O'Brien


Dimitrius Smith





Citizens:


Emilia "Azrael" Hazaguri



​

Darten

A city fallen victim to the war and evil that plagues the nation.





Reapers' Local Headquarters

Considered the most heavily fortified place in all of Darten, the Reapers' headquarters is a luxurious mansion where Reapers receive their jobs and try to enjoy what little life remains inside them while they can.





Saviors' Headquarters

Don't let its looks fool you, the Saviors' headquarters is fortified and luxurious within. They chose to locate themselves within the city to keep an eye on everything. To avoid being found by the reapers, they chose to renovate an abandoned apartment building.
​

♦Follow all RPN rules♦


♦No Godmodding♦


♦Be literate and post at least one paragraph♦


♦Be active! No RP killers, please♦


♦Both Violence and Romance are allowed and strongly encouraged♦


♦Put "RS" in your character post so I know you read the rules♦


♦Enjoy♦
​

 

[Bryant]

Damien washed the dried blood from his skin in the bathroom of the recently late H.J. Andrews' house. He avoided looking at the children's bath toys lined up on the edge of the tub, not wanting to think about how the children would react when they got home from school to find a hole in their father's forehead. His long legs easily stepped over the fallen body as he headed out the front door, kicking the man's leg inside more so he could shut the door all the way. The sky was dark and starless from the streets, but he looked up in search for them anyway. There was a point when he would look to the sky for hope, but now he just looked out of boredom. He tossed the scrap paper away in the nearest dumpster and put the hood from his jacket far over his face. He didn't like to make eye contact with passerby's in case he ever had to look at them again through the site of his gun. As he made his way back to his apartment, he saw the homeless shivering in the street. It was apparently a cold day, but he couldn't tell. Every day was warm. Every breeze, every drop of rain, every dead body was warm.

​

Earlier that week, Damien had sustained a leg injury after being hit by a drunk driver while walking home. The leg had not yet healed all the way, and his body would randomly decide to rejuvenate the injured leg a little more. This would cause him excruciating pain without warning, and he experienced just that outside of an old, abandoned looking apartment. He immediately leaned against the wall to get some weight off his leg, then slid down and sat against the building, holding his thigh as if the pain would magically go away. He closed his eyes and just breathed, trying not to let the pain become to overwhelming for him. After a few minutes, it passed and his leg felt a little better than it had before.

​

"I really should stop walking everywhere" he mumbled to himself. He owned a car, but rarely ever drove it. He knew he could make a quicker and easier escape without an easy-to-find car. Plus, driving in the city was a pain most of the time. It was just easier to walk. He reminded himself that everything would be better in a day or two, when his leg finally healed. But for now, he decided to take a smoke while he was sitting there. He looked up at the building, having never really explored this side of the city in a while. It appeared to be uninhabited, even though most buildings that were still standing were inhabited by someone due to the lack of room on the streets. But, he thought nothing else of it while he just leaned his head back and finished smoking.

​

 

[PKCV2]

The sound of a forehead cracking...such a satisfying sound to Ash. A man, late thirties lay dead in an alley. Removing the brass knuckles from her hand, she bent down to scoop up the corpse, knees buckling from the extra weight but she managed to lift and dump the man into a dumpster.


"Ack! Oh god!"


Ash turned the opposite direction, palms against a brick building, gagging as the smell of rotten food and assorted junk rose from the dumpster to assault her senses. A few minutes later when she got over the sick feeling she made her way out of the alley and into the streets, an obvious sheepish look plastered on her face, embarrassed that a dumpster had almost beaten her.


She walked alone, even with the ordinary citizens roaming the sidewalks Ash kept to herself, her ponytail swaying as she walked. She had no other destination in place so she was on her way to the Reapers Headquarters, looking forward to her payday. The thought of a payday created a little spring in her step as she eagerly walked/skipped down the streets.

 

[Bryant]

Damien heard the distinct sound of something heavy being thrown into a dumpster. Moments later, he saw a fellow reaper walking in his direction. He recognized her face and knew her name. He made a point to learn every Reaper's face in name. He didn't have much else to do with his time anyway. No hobbies other than using skulls as target practice.


"Ash" he called as she approached. He stood and removed the hood of his jacket from from in front of his face. He was always a gentlemen to ladies, meaning he would have to make eye contact for once. He wasn't sure if she would recognize him. He wasn't really one for striking up conversation at HQ, but rather just kept to himself. Most knew him as the man who played the piano, for he found a little joy from creating music that filled the mansion with a spark of life. He also didn't know how far gone she was. Women seemed to break down in the business quicker than the men did, but then again many women in the business are stronger than all the men. Some of the reapers who had lost their entirety to the business never even responded to their names anymore. They walked the streets like corpses, dead inside. Though Damien couldn't say much because he, too, was on his way to becoming a living corpse. It was only his love of music and the occasional contact with another living human that kept him sane.

 

[PKCV2]

Ash's head swiveled from side to side, examining the city as she walked through it. Dilapidated and dirty was all that came to mind, and this was where she was born and raised...now she was a murderer whose headquarters was a giant mansion, how far she has come...or was it how far she'd fallen, she switched between the two every now and then.


She heard her name called, startling her as she came to a stop, it was a man, as he lowered his hood she recognized him, she didn't know his name...frankly she was scared of the Reapers who had gone off the deep end. She looked at her feet, her voice coming out wavering and nervous.


"Uh...hello sir..d-did you want something?"


She always made an attempt to stay away from the Reapers like him, she only knew about him from the sounds of a piano that flowed throughout the mansion. Even then, his piano playing never eased her nerves about him, no matter how nice it sounded.

 

[Bryant]

When she spoke, Damien could tell she was afraid of him. He couldn't blame her, though. His eyes were an endless void at times and his people skills were lacking. He had killed more men than most other reapers his age. The only reason he wasn't completely gone yet was because of the brief year where his soul was brought back to life by a caring woman. That is, until it was ripped away once more by her untimely death. He had seen things, done things, that this young girl could hardly perceive of doing.


Though, by the looks of the blood that had gotten onto her shirt, she knew some of the emptiness he felt, even if only a little.


"I was going to offer a ride, ma'am." He said politely. His mother had always taught him that, no matter what, women of all ages were to be respected. "It's a long walk back to Headquarters. My car is just up the street"


He knew she must be heading towards HQ. Her hands were now bloodied and everyone always went strait for the money after a job, since money made the job more tolerable. He figured she would decline his offer. Most did out of fear. But, there was no harm in asking.

 

[PKCV2]

Nothing. The man said nothing which almost felt worse than having a normal conversation with him. The maddening silence caused her more unrest as she felt he was evaluating her, maybe to kill her, maybe to rob her, maybe to bloody her, she thought these kinds of people were unpredictable.


Instead of doing anything of the above, he offered to give her a ride, his voice was a mixture of monotone and politeness...maybe he wasn't so far gone.


What am I a hitchhiker now?


She thought to herself, trying to come to a decision. After a few moments of more silence, she decided to seal her own fate and accept his offer. She looked up to him, very much taller than her, and gave him an uneasy smile, smaller than her usual smile.


"Oh...sure, thanks."


There it was, if she died today than she died a hitchhiker's death. Steeling herself, she took position to the side of her fellow Reaper and waited for him to lead the way, resisting the urge to bolt.

 

[Bryant]

Damien half smiled for a fraction of a second, the closest he could come to a real smile nowadays. He could see she was still uneasy, but he couldn't blame her for that. He figured she knew he could kill her in an instant if he so desired. Lord knows he had the practice to do so. But he would never lay an angry hand a woman, so long as he had control of himself. The only thing that frightened him about dropping completely off the edge was the thought of losing himself, his morals, and no longer having control over his own body and his actions. For now, he would be grateful.


He led her two blocks down the road in silence. He wasn't much of a talker. He was awkward and shy around girls, having only ever been truly intimate and open with one, not counting the mindless and heartless intimacy he had with ladies of the night before having met his fiance of late. Girls almost frightened him at times, thought not enough for him to lose his chivalry.


They reached a parking garage and only had to go a few feet inside before reaching his car. He had purchased a spot directly in front for easy access to his only mode of long distance transportation. The car was covered to protect it from scratches and the elements, and he pulled the cover off in one fluid motion. A solid black Lamborghini Aventador was revealed. When purchasing the car, Damien figured he would go all out since he didn't know how long he had to live anyway. He lifted the door open for her to get in and then carefully shut it behind her before getting into the driver's seat. He flew out of the parking garage and hit the street at high speeds, though he was careful not to jerk the car when he turned so that she would remain comfortable. Once he was out of the main part of the city, it took less than a minute to reach the heavily guarded mansion. As they pulled up to the front gate, all he had to do was open the window and the guards recognized him immediately and let him in without identification. He found a spot close to the front doors and was out of the car and at her door in seconds. He once again lifted the door for her and waited for her to get out before closing and locking the car.


http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gWCupmU9boc/T-sLfA2UbVI/AAAAAAAAGHU/tqrlB2wgUzk/s640/matte-black-lamborghini-aventador-1.jpg

 

[PKCV2]

The pair walked down the streets for about two blocks, neither said anything and they were left undisturbed by the locals, most likely because of the man beside Ash. Eventually they reached their destination, a parking garage. Stepping inside, his car was close to the entrance and it shocked her. The sleek, black car sat waiting for them, she didn't have the money or desire to purchase a car like it, she didn't even know what kind of car it was. The most she had ever spent with her ill-earned money on was a temporary bodyguard...there was a point in time where she didn't feel safe in the streets being the runt of the Reaper family.


She stood to the side and patiently watched the man open the car doors, which surprised her as they slid upwards. She was staring at the alien car for a few moments until she realized that the door was being held open for her, a gesture of a gentleman, something she never got to experience. She plopped herself onto the seat.


The car zoomed through the city, at such speeds that Ash had never experienced, the buildings melded together into blurs as they passed by. She was gripping the edges of her seat the whole ride, her knuckles turning white.


Once they arrived at the familiar mansion and passed through inspection, the man had once again opened the door for her. Stepping out, she glared back at the guards. This guy had gotten through inspection so easily and yet every time she arrived she went through pat-downs and inspections...perks of being the runt she guessed.


"So...thanks for the ride, I should go get my money...see you around whoever you are."

 

[Bryant]

"Anytime." Damien said to her with a slight nod.


He decided while he was here he might as well go inside. Before he could even get inside a heavier man in a nice suit with a warm smile on his face burst open the front door exclaiming "Well if it isn't Mr. Damien himself! What took you so long? Normally you're back within the hour!" Damien, emotionless, walked past him inside saying "My leg was acting up."


He plopped himself on one of the chairs in the grand living room and stretched out his leg as best he could to try to get comfortable. The fat man followed him inside while whistling twice, a signal for one of the scientists to come. A short, small man of 40 years scurried quickly down the stairs and looked around until he found where the whistle came from. "Ah, is your leg still not healed?" the short man said as he lifted Damien's baggy pants just enough to see his still bruised up leg. The perks of testing a new serum was that you no longer received medical attention from a real doctor...only from scientists.


"I wonder if there is some sort of nerve damage that is preventing your brain from telling those cells in the area to regenerate. Let's see-" he took a scalpel out from his lap coat pocket and, without warning, sliced open a part of Damien's leg. Damien grabbed a firm hold of the chair arms in an attempt to control his anger that the man would just do that without asking or even giving him a warning. The scientist stared at his leg for a few seconds and then stood back. What appeared to be blue flames emerged from the wound. Damien clenched his jaw and grunted, his breathing heavy as he laid his head against the back of the chair, fighting the pain of the healing process. He closed his eyes and tensed every muscle in his body until the pain had subsided. He looked down at his leg and watched the final scar vanish.


"Well, it appears it's working just fine" the short man said. "No shit" Damien muttered as he regained himself. "It's probably just going to take another, I'd say, twelve to fourteen hours until it's nice and healed. Must have been damaged pretty bad." The fat man simply smiled and nodded saying, "You'll be fixed up and back on your A-game in no time, Damien! Why don't you take a couple days off, just be sure." He patted Damien's shoulder and left to attend to other matters.


"We're working on something to make the healing process better, sir. It's just...it's easier to make a perfect serum than to fix a broken one. But we're going to see what we can do to help." The scientist said, though he obviously had no intentions of wasting his time to make Damien feel more comfortable. He turned to leave but Damien stood, towering over him, and grabbed the back of his lab coat, pulling him nearly off his feet. "If you do that to me again, I'll kill you" he growled to the man, obviously not happy about what he had done. As his anger rose, so did his external heat. Suddenly, the man's feet were back firmly on the ground, Damien's hand having burnt off the section of the lab coat he was holding onto. Like a rat, the terrified man scurried out of the room. Once he was gone, though, Damien took a deep breath to control himself and settled back into his emotionless facade.

 

[Hub Cub Bub Rub]

Four.


The number had a foul connotation to it - enough so to make Danil far more nauseated than the stench of blood that permeated the air did. In the middle of the room, a body lay face-down in a pool of his own blood - Alvin DeCaprio. A fellow tenant of the same apartment complex he lived in, conveniently enough. The thin walls of the building brought with them a slight danger to the little struggle that Alvin put up - he was sure that the sounds weren't too different to the typical noise that neighboring tenants made at...all hours of the day, really. Slightly concerning, when you think about it. He moved over to the window of the apartment, staring outside at passers by for a few moments before quickly drawing the curtains and moving to leave; not before wiping his boots on the doormat to prevent blood from tracking.


He left the complex rather quickly, stepping out into the musty street. Unscrewing the filter of his mask and sliding it into his pocket, he inhaled deeply - going without the stench for so long was an almost alien idea to him. "...Payment. Right.", he muttered quietly to himself, the ambient sounds of the city far too loud for him to even hear himself speak. Glancing around his surroundings, he let his arms drop to his sides limply as he walked at a relatively quick pace, careful not to step on any of the less fortunate folk resting on the pavement. He continued at that pace for the better part of two hours; getting from the heart of the city to the mansion without a form of transport was quite tiring.


He arrived at the main gates shivering rather profusely; arms folded over his chest like they'd help him fight the cold. He glanced to the guard, and then raised a shaky, gloved finger as he reached into one of his pockets, procuring an identification card and the scrap of paper he'd been given the night before, sidling over to the guard's booth and holding them out to him. His free hand moved to his mask, tugging it off to reveal his face. A minute to Danil felt like an hour in the biting cold as the guard looked to and fro the card and Danil, before nodding his head and offering the two articles back to him. The gates slid open slowly, and he sidled his way inside, tugging his mask back on. Pushing through the main doors, he made his way over towards one of the benches in the entrance hall, taking a short while to revel in the warmth the mansion offered. He needed it.

 

[Bryant]

Damien strolled around the room, bored. He noticed that as people came in from outside, they were shivering. Damien had no idea that it was that cold outside. He noticed the fire was dwindling in the fire place, so he reached in with his bare hand and shifted the logs until the fire roared to life again. His arm didn't have a single burn on it from the fire, only some soot that he easily brushed off. He then went to a few of the other rooms that had fireplaces and lit the fires with a flick of his finger.


As he passed by the piano, he brushed his fingers across the keys. He wasn't really in the mood to play today, though he still admired the beauty of the instrument. As he walked calmly back through the front entrance, he noticed a man in a hazmat suit. He had heard of this man. Many had never even seen his face because of the mask, but Damien was not really bothered by that. There were many things that reapers did that seemed strange to some, and normal to others.


Damien wasn't quite sure what to do with his time. A few days off was a long time for him, seeing as how he hadn't had a day off in months. He noticed that HQ seemed rather full today, probably because a lot of the apartments in the city struggled to maintain their heat in the cold times. For the new reapers, Their pay was just enough for them to get by. But the longer they were there, the higher their pay and the more luxurious life they could live. The raises were repayment for the loss of self these people would experience. Sometimes Damien wished he had never agreed to shoot that first man. But other times he sees the people starving to death in the streets and is thankful he is no longer one of them.

 

[Gh0st]

Daniel walked along the sidewalk as he made his way to the location that the Survivors were in. He had only arrived at the city a week ago and had spent the majority of the town getting himself situated. Finding himself a place to live and food to eat with the little money he had was tough. However, he was fully aware that he was incredibly lucky to get his hands on those things. After all, the city itself seemed to be constantly starving.


Not much had change since Daniel was a boy. The noises and smells of the city hadn't changed after so many years. Even the dark alleys and street corners filled with the homeless remained the same. But with so much time passing by, some things were bound to change. Things like the bars that were filled to the brim with people looking to have a good time or the music, laughter, and dancing people did even though it was all going to hell around them It seemed like there simply wasn't money or hope for any of that any longer.


As Daniel reminisced about the old city, he wondered of what would happen when he arrived to the Savior's Headquarters. That is if anything happened at all, no one really knew if they were even real. Even so, Daniel had dressed for the occasion. He wore a dark blue, untucked dress shirt with a black tie, a black suit jacket, black pants, and black combat boots to top it off. Perhaps his formal apparel was the reason that people kept glancing over at him as he walked. Daniel guessed that the katana (samurai sword) slung on his back was a more likely cause. That didn't stop Daniel from carrying it around. The katana was the weapon all Samurai like him carried no matter where in the world they were.


Coming to an abrupt halt, Daniel snapped out of his deep thought. Grabbing the piece of paper from his pocket, he looked at the address and then at the building before him. He was certain that he was at the right place, but the old apartment complex in front of him isn't what he expected to see. However, it made sense to Daniel that their HQ would look run-down to match with the city. It was the perfect way to stay hidden and live anonymously. Sticking the piece of paper back in his pocket, Daniel walked up to the front door of the building. Hesitant at first, he knocked the door three times and waited. He really hoped that they would take kindly to him, however, he knew that it wouldn't not go that way....

 

[Mercy Anne]

Claire watched as the city came alive before her eyes. Well, as alive as it could be. The lucky ones made their way to their jobs, no matter how gross their jobs were. Claire knew it was about time for her to start working as well. Having not slept at all the night before, her mind plagued with the images of her dead family, she groggily walked back down into the Saviors headquarters. Until she got inside and felt the warmth once more, she hadn't realized how cold the night had been.


Inside, the abandoned apartment complex had been renovated to feel like more of a mansion than an apartment. Claire was about to go adjust some logs in the fireplace when she heard a knock on the door. She pulled her gun out from underneath her shirt and walked quietly to the front door, peering out the peep hole. She didnt recognize the man standing there, but his eyes weren't the same eyes the reapers had-dead voids. She kept the gun in her left hand so it was hidden behind the door as she opened the door partway.


"Can I help you?" She asked as she looked the man over.

 

[Gh0st]

Patiently waiting at the door, Daniel used this time to carefully look at his surroundings. He noticed some of the homeless wearing heavy, torn coats as they shook and quickly came to realize that it was a particularly cold night. Daniel hadn't noticed due to spending freezing winters in the mountains training with his master. The man was usually lighthearted and very driven by the pursuit of a good time, but a much younger Daniel did not experience this side of him in the early years of their training. When it came to their training, Daniel's master had been strict making him train in freezing temperatures during the winter months. Back then, Daniel had hated him for it, but now he was very grateful for the discipline.


As Daniel's mind wandered, the door swung open and a girl about his age appeared. He looked down at her and his eyes explored her body for a moment as he searched for weapons. Immediately, Daniel noticed how she kept on hand hidden care fly. Clearly, she was concealing something.


"Can I help you?" the girl said to him.


For a moment, there was a silence as Daniel thought carefully about the question. What could only have been seconds seemed to be hours before he answered. Speaking fluently, Daniel began answering her question in Japanese before cutting himself off as he realized he was falling into old habits.


"I'm here to see the Saviors" he finally told the girl. His voice was smooth and calm with a small hint of an Irish accent trailing off of his tongue.

 

[EvilLaugh]

He was finished. After so long, he was finally finished.


He lifted the result of his hard work to further inspect it for any sign of flaw, for any mistake he could have made when he designed and assembled the magnificent weapon. He found none, drawing a small nod from him as he tested it's weight. Perfect. He lifted it, faster than the eye could see and leveled it at a target several yards away from his current position. He pulled the trigger not much latter, his arm not even shifting.


The only sound the echoed around the empty hall was that of a piece of glass, not even an inch across, shattering. To him, it was the sound of progress. He lowered the weapon, quite a large pistol yet still easily concealed, placing it back on the table before him before taking up the main piece of equipment he was working on. His masterpiece.


He flicked the lights closed.


A stock of a large rifle was snugly pressed into his shoulder while he looked down the sight. Silently, the long barrel extended outward even more and light bordering between the X ray and ultraviolet spectrum shot out as an invisible beam. Through it, he could see several fragments of glass resting on the floor. Each shard was visible with perfect clarity, despite the absence of visible light the room and the reduced size of each fractal. If he pulled the trigger, he assumed he would blow a nicely sized hole behind another three to five walls, assuming they were made with military grade bullet resistant steel and thick concrete of course, each sporting a large opening of their own. Again, his work was perfection. He would never expect anything less.


The first weapon was like air in his hands, quick, ever present and ultimately, inescapable. The second was death itself, silent, unexpected and just as inevitable. No one was around, so he had to give himself a pat on the back, he had come a long way from modifying, taking apart and essentially replacing every part of, an old dart gun.


He sighed tiredly, not gaining any sleep the last few days, hard at work completing his latest creations, tools to avenge the death of his parents and finally rid the world of those Reapers. The entire project itself took a year, give or take a month, in total work time, and that was in between hunting down the filth that orphaned him. He worked himself to the bone until his fumes were running on fumes, tirelessly testing, altering and fabricating materials, exhaust systems propellant an ammunition till he could build the most efficient and silent killer. He would only rest after passing out, luckily never during a mission. And now his task was done.


Now he could rest.


If only the strange sound of bone tapping wood did not make it too his ears, or the voices that followed. Sometimes he had regretted placing a bug on the doorway, but he had placed it there for a reason. Better not leave the blonde to be the welcome committee. He thought, irritated, as he holstered the pistol, its twin, left the rifle on the table and began walking to the staircase, or the elevator. It was a long walk up to the main floor, and he simply did not have the time for it.

 

[Mercy Anne]

Claire looked the man over once more. She noticed the katana on his back but could see no other visible weapons. Somehow, he had known this to be the Saviors headquarters, meaning he had probably been referred here or given the location information by a fellow savior. She opened the door the rest of the way and said, "Come in, please" closing and locking the door behind him. She lifted her shirt and re-holstered her 9mm pistol.


"This way" she said in a soft voice, leading him towards an office. The office belonged to no one but was used by everyone. Since she had been with the Saviors for at least a year, she had the authority to welcome people into the Saviors if she deemed them fit enough.


"What do you have to offer?" She asked as she sat on the front of the desk, her legs crossed.

 

[Gh0st]

Daniel stepped inside the Headquarters and followed the girl. As he did so, he took the opportunity of analyzing the building from the inside. Like Daniel had predicted, it was much different on the inside from how it was on the outside. It was a place of luxury and comfort as opposed to the city's slums. This made Daniel a bit curious. He instantly began wondering how they made their money or how this building was built without no one noticing?


The place overall gave Daniel a strange feeling. He wasn't used to seeing big mansions or anything of the sort. In fact, he'd spent the majority of his life living in a small cottage with his master. Before that he had lived in a mansion with his parents, but those times felt like they happened in another life.


Daniel walked to the office, his footsteps so light and swift that they made no sound. He took note of the gun the girl had holstered, he had no intention to fight, but he wanted to be prepared for that. As they walked into the office, Daniel turned to the girl as she took a seat and asked him a question.


"I know some people in this city. A lot of them powerful and potentially useful to you. I'm a skilled fighter who also shares your determination and passion towards stopping this city from crumbling apart" he answered the same hint of an Irish accent still present.


Daniel remained standing as he looked at the girl sitting across from him, waiting for an answer.

 

[Mercy Anne]

Claire brushed some hair out of her face while he answered. She nodded and motioned towards his sword, "Do you choose to fight with a katana? Or do you have other weapons? And what sort of training do you have?" She picked up a clipboard from the desk and flipped through a few papers while waiting for an answer.

 

[Gh0st]

Realizing that this might take a while, Daniel took a seat across from her as he took in her question. "Yes, I choose to fight with a katana, but I am skilled with a gun. I haven't shot one since I was a child, but if I have to I can do it quite accurately. In terms of swordsmanship, I am a master in Kenjutsu, Battōjutsu, and Iaijutsu. As well as Kendo" he replied pronouncing the Japanese words like a native would.


"Also, I've trained in Akido, Karate, and some Ninjutsu" Daniel continued as he tried to remember the years of training, but stopped there thinking it was probably more then enough.

 

[ModernRanger]

A door on the opposite end of the office swung open, banging ever so slightly against the wall. Dimitrius stood, silhouetted by the light from the room he had just exited. He wore black jeans and combat boots, his torso covered by a white t-shirt and a leather jacket with a light amount of white fur on it.He had a distinctive sword, sheathed on his back but other then that no other weapons could be seen on him. Around his neck hung a silver pendant, one that had been with him all of his life. He took a few steps forward and soon noticed the two in the room. He recognized Claire easily, he had known her for a year now. A respectable amount of time, although he had been here the longest. He had been brought into the Savior program when he was very young. They had pulled him off the streets, which didn't matter it was not like anyone was going to miss him.


It was the other one he did not recognize, it seemed as if Claire was interviewing him for a Savior position. Dimitrius walked over behind where Claire sat.," Good Morning Claire, is this a new recruit?" He asked, nodding his head towards the man sitting across from her.

 

[Mercy Anne]

"Indeed, he is" She said as she smiled at Dimitrius. "Apparently, he's quite skilled with a sword as well. What do you think? I'm all for him. The more the merrier, right?" She smiled at Daniel as well. "Where were you trained, if I may ask? I'm not sure of any place around here where you could learn all of that"

 

[Gh0st]

Upon seeing the smiled on her face, Daniel relaxed slightly more. Thankfully, things had gone as smoothly as he had hoped for. He quickly turned his attention away from that to the new arrival in the new. Like himself, he carried a sword on his back but other then that no other weapons that Daniel could see. Upon hearing her question, he turned to the girl once again.


"I was trained all over Japan, mostly in a small island nearby. It didn't have an official name due to its size, but Master use to call it Jigoku. In Japanese Buddhism, that would be what we call 'Hell'" Daniel answered. The slight Irish accent sounded almost strange to him. H hadn't spoken English in so long that hearing his old roots felt weird.

 

[Mercy Anne]

"Wow. You were away from all this treachery and yet came back to join us?" She hopped down from her seat on the desk to extend a delicate hand to him. "I would like to personally welcome you to the Saviors" she said cheerfully. "I'll have to see your swordsmanship later, though. I'd like to know what all of those practices are. I haven't heard of most of them, to be quite honest."


((ooc: sorry for the short posts. I'm working atm))

 

[Gh0st]

Daniel stood up taking her hand and shaking it his expression a bit blank as he took everything in. "Well, I was born in this city, I couldn't let it waste away" he told her. "Thank you very much for having me. Anytime at all that you want to see my swordsmanship I'll be glad to demonstrate. Oh, by the way, my name is Daniel. Daniel Kens-" he added, but stopped as he almost used his Japanese last name.


"Daniel O'Brien" he finally finished. "I'm glad to be a part of this"