WE NOW RETURN TO THE MAIN ZFRP-VERSE!
~KUWAHAWI PELE-PELE FREEWAY~
"This is probably a bad idea," said Stephen over the engine's impatient growl.
He wasn't totally inaccurate. The car in question was a beat-up Toyota AE86 Sprinter Trueno, a relic of the 80's that had somehow lumbered along into the present day in defiance of time itself. The question of where or how it had been acquired had never been answered, since the person who'd purchased it - Murdoc - had responded with "never again" and then buggered off to get drunk. The engine made weird knocking noises if it went above fifty, the clutch was a little sticky and somebody had drawn a penis in Sharpie on the bonnet. It was not an ideal car to race in.
But then Murdoc had made a bet with some shark-man that he could beat their time in the mountain road that connected Kuwahawi's central city with the coast. And then an even more pissed Noodle had announced that her Wendigo boyfriend could trash both of them. Stephen, who was nowhere near as drunk, had tried to be polite about it, but the glint of the shark's teeth in the sunlight had shut him up long enough for Murdoc to slam two thousand dollars onto the table. And by the time he realised what had happened, Noodle had already downed her eight can and dragged him off to do practice laps.
Which was why he was here now. And reiterating that he thought that this was a bad idea.
Tuesday, 27 February 2018
Thursday, 22 February 2018
Night of Blood (Part 2/4)
WARNING: The following contains the death of an alternate universe version of a character. The character's owner has given consent for this to happen, and this does not affect the main ZFRP Universe. Reader discretion, however, is advised.
~EARTH ZF-025, WORLD OF BUILD~
The Teapot.
The security of the Cosine family's facilities and homes were notoriously easy to break. This was perhaps due to arrogance on the behalf of the family - because everything they made was of the most advanced and esoteric technology they could find, they assumed it couldn't be broken. Or maybe they were just negligent in their own security measures. In this case, however, the Teapot had long been abandoned - the original owners had long since moved, having found better and more secure places to do their work in. If they even remembered the place existed
It meant that Night Rogue and his company easily hacked their way through the security lock, turned off the cameras and got inside without setting off a single alarm.
They'd emerged into the Teapot unscathed and unchallenged, the Guardians and the Smash behind them. But they were wise enough to know that even now, victory was not immediately assured. Most of the time, break-in's had been foiled because the villain felt the need to announce themselves, or make an attempt to blackmail or coerce the person within into doing their bidding. This gave the victim the chance to muster a response, usually in the form of automated turrets or their own powers - if the agressor was lucky. If they weren't, it meant the Kobbers raining down upon their heads like a thunderstorm of angry fists, swords, guns and lightning bolts.
Night Rogue did not announce himself. There was no worth in wasting the breath to do so. He merely shot the lock straight off the door leading into the rest of the building, kicked it open and walked onward, his assembled squadron following behind. Blood Stalk, seemingly deliberately, brought up the rear - the excuse he gave was that he wanted to avoid any surprise attacks from the rear, although it seemed half-harted even by his own standards. Rogue knew he was lying, and Stalk knew that he knew, and thus they were all content together.
Reaching a junction between corridors, he turned to address his troops. The Guardians, about twelve in total, stood impassive, awaiting their next order like the soldiers they had originally been programmed to be. But the six huge, hulking Smash amongst them were milling about impatiently, letting off the deep, rolling growls a tiger gives before it smacks somebody in the head and caves their skull in. They were rapidly losing interest - and unless they found it again, then the nearest object or person was going to suffer for it.
Thankfully, Rogue knew what to do about that.
"Secure this base," he rumbled. "Form perimiters around the main research laboratory - nobody gets in or out unless it's me. Recover anything electronic you can find, and destroy anything that isn't. Then erase all traces from her servers. I don't want that wretched family tracing this back to us. And if anything related to the Doctor's work or Project: Build comes up, you bring it to me. Understand?"
The Guardians nodded their assent and marched off, the Smash close behind. Some of them, however, stuck with Rogue, standing to attention and guns at the ready. These were his personal guard, those programmed to defend him with their operational lives and ensure his safety. They would stick with him no matter what other orders they were given, which was a plus for Rogue - less chance of him getting surprised or penned by a canny enemy.
Blood Stalk emerged from among them, idly swinging his blade.
"Leave nothing to chance, do you?" he drawled.
"I've played the game of war for long enough," was the reply. "You pick up a few tricks on the way. Now, follow me - I've a score to settle, first thing."
With all that said, Rogue turned his back on his supposed ally, the metal of his armour glinting from the overhead lights and began to march. His stride was one with purpose, every step showing the silent, stoic determination of a soldier carrying out his duty. Obediently, his Guardians followed, weapons holstered in case of sudden accident - even with the security down, they were prepared.
Behind them, Stalk chuckled as he realized what was going to happen.
"Oh, this is gonna be good..."
~EARTH ZF-025, WORLD OF BUILD~
The Teapot.
The security of the Cosine family's facilities and homes were notoriously easy to break. This was perhaps due to arrogance on the behalf of the family - because everything they made was of the most advanced and esoteric technology they could find, they assumed it couldn't be broken. Or maybe they were just negligent in their own security measures. In this case, however, the Teapot had long been abandoned - the original owners had long since moved, having found better and more secure places to do their work in. If they even remembered the place existed
It meant that Night Rogue and his company easily hacked their way through the security lock, turned off the cameras and got inside without setting off a single alarm.
They'd emerged into the Teapot unscathed and unchallenged, the Guardians and the Smash behind them. But they were wise enough to know that even now, victory was not immediately assured. Most of the time, break-in's had been foiled because the villain felt the need to announce themselves, or make an attempt to blackmail or coerce the person within into doing their bidding. This gave the victim the chance to muster a response, usually in the form of automated turrets or their own powers - if the agressor was lucky. If they weren't, it meant the Kobbers raining down upon their heads like a thunderstorm of angry fists, swords, guns and lightning bolts.
Night Rogue did not announce himself. There was no worth in wasting the breath to do so. He merely shot the lock straight off the door leading into the rest of the building, kicked it open and walked onward, his assembled squadron following behind. Blood Stalk, seemingly deliberately, brought up the rear - the excuse he gave was that he wanted to avoid any surprise attacks from the rear, although it seemed half-harted even by his own standards. Rogue knew he was lying, and Stalk knew that he knew, and thus they were all content together.
Reaching a junction between corridors, he turned to address his troops. The Guardians, about twelve in total, stood impassive, awaiting their next order like the soldiers they had originally been programmed to be. But the six huge, hulking Smash amongst them were milling about impatiently, letting off the deep, rolling growls a tiger gives before it smacks somebody in the head and caves their skull in. They were rapidly losing interest - and unless they found it again, then the nearest object or person was going to suffer for it.
Thankfully, Rogue knew what to do about that.
"Secure this base," he rumbled. "Form perimiters around the main research laboratory - nobody gets in or out unless it's me. Recover anything electronic you can find, and destroy anything that isn't. Then erase all traces from her servers. I don't want that wretched family tracing this back to us. And if anything related to the Doctor's work or Project: Build comes up, you bring it to me. Understand?"
The Guardians nodded their assent and marched off, the Smash close behind. Some of them, however, stuck with Rogue, standing to attention and guns at the ready. These were his personal guard, those programmed to defend him with their operational lives and ensure his safety. They would stick with him no matter what other orders they were given, which was a plus for Rogue - less chance of him getting surprised or penned by a canny enemy.
Blood Stalk emerged from among them, idly swinging his blade.
"Leave nothing to chance, do you?" he drawled.
"I've played the game of war for long enough," was the reply. "You pick up a few tricks on the way. Now, follow me - I've a score to settle, first thing."
With all that said, Rogue turned his back on his supposed ally, the metal of his armour glinting from the overhead lights and began to march. His stride was one with purpose, every step showing the silent, stoic determination of a soldier carrying out his duty. Obediently, his Guardians followed, weapons holstered in case of sudden accident - even with the security down, they were prepared.
Behind them, Stalk chuckled as he realized what was going to happen.
"Oh, this is gonna be good..."
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