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| Xeogaming Forums - - Posts by Rogue |
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Rogue If you're reading this... You are the Resistance         Since: 08-17-04 Since last post: 416 days Last activity: 224 days |
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| ((Don't mind the break in the currently consistent story going on. I assume that if this is anything like the show, many of the characters aren't in the same place and by means of fate all become tied together eventually, so here goes the start of Cally's story))
Las Vegas, Nevada Lina fondled her drink tray as she waited for the bartender to fulfill the order she put in. While Jared prepared the Amaretto sour and two martinis, Lina placed her tray on the bar and adjusted her uniform, pulling her skirt up a bit and yanking down the front of her top. Jared winked at her as he poured the gin. "Working on those big tips, are ya, Lina?" he jested, grinning to the patrons at the bar as they chuckled and momentarily glanced in her direction. "High rollers," she smirked. "Gotta give 'em what they paid for." The bar patrons nodded their silent understanding, as she continued to tug at her low-cut bodice-like, black, suede vest the Montecito designated the official uniform for the cocktail waitresses who exclusively served the high rollers. Her matching skirt, already scandalously short, had a slit over her left thigh. A name tag reading, "Montecito Resort and Casino," with "LINA" below that, was pinned to the vest, hovering over her left breast. Her longish dark brown hair, pinned out of her face, otherwise hung freely down her back. "Boom goes the dynamite," Jared joked, loading Lina's tray with the mixed drinks. She looked down to check how much her cleavage stuck out, picked up her tray and turned to leave, just as Jared called her back. Whispering a few things to her, out of earshot of the men at the bar, Lina giggled loudly, held her tray high, turned, and headed to the private VIP lounge. "What gives?" one of the barflies asked, elbowing the guys next to him. "Just thanking her for last night," Jared said slyly, with a devil-may-care smile, as the guys at the bar hooted and high-fived. *** Lina made her way to the closed off lounge after going through a labyrinth of hallways with the occasional security check. Upon finally arriving in the secret high-roller area, she swiped a security card on a panel on the door, causing it to beep and swing open. The dimly-lit room, completely clouded with cigar smoke, held three gamblers immersed in a game of high stakes Texas hold 'em. The other men in the room consisted of two security guards and the dealer. As Lina entered the room, the guards waved a metal detector over her. Though casino and resort staff were usually not checked, it was the importance on the men in the room that were cause for the extra precautions. "Goddamn it, just let her through before my drink warms up!" one of the gamblers shouted. "She's clean, anyway, boss." One of the guards confirmed. "Ah, Miss Lina's return to grace us with her lovely presence once more," another gambler said as she bent over to place his martini in front of him, letting the men enjoy the view as she did so. The third man remained silent and sternly kept his eyes on his cards. "What do you think, Miss Lina? Should I fold or raise?" the second gambler asked pulling her into his lap revealing his hand of pocket 8s while caressing her thigh. "That is a tough one, Mr. Talos. But I think..." Lina smirked and threw a few of Talos' chips in the pot. "...this does call for some action." "Mr. Talos raises $900,000," the dealer announced. "Oooh, luck be a lady tonight!" Talos jeered. The other two men called, dropping what chips it took to even out the betting at which point the dealer laid down the first flop--Ace of Spades, 3 of Clubs, and the 9 of Diamonds. Lina, never really being one for gambling or cards these days, let her mind drift to other things as Talos continued to run the tips of his fingers up and down her leg while he sipped his drink in his other hand and watching the other gamblers raise the stakes. On the turn, the dealer put down an Ace of Clubs. "What a shame, Mr. Talos," Lina said. "Dead man's hand." Instantly, two uzis, with silencers attached, appeared in Lina's hands from under the table laying the two security guards, the dealer and the other two men to waste just as quickly. Springing from Talos' lap, Lina kicked him backwards to the ground while he still sat in his chair, resting the spiked heel of her boot on his right arm which seemed to be reaching for a gun. With his left hand, he raised it in surrender, as both guns were aiming for the space between his eyes. "Wait, wait, WAIT!" Talos protested. "Who sent you?!" "Does the name 'Rawlins' ring any bells?" "Rawlins? He's dead. What of it?" "You have your answer." "Your name. What is it?" Talos demanded nervously. "Callisto Roxton. At your service." She nodded her head and dropped a mock curtsie. Talos' eyes widened and he began to laugh as though the name tickled him. "Somehow I knew you'd be coming if ever one was sent. I'm honored." "That makes one of us." She shot, creating a spring of dark blood, leaving the marred flesh of what used to be a human face, at her feet. (Last edited by Rogue on 11-20-07 05:27 AM) |
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Rogue If you're reading this... You are the Resistance Since: 08-17-04 Since last post: 416 days Last activity: 224 days |
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| I seriously can't express my extreme elation over the ending of tonight's episode. I was actually jumping up and down screaming, "He's alive! He's alive!!"
My feelings could probably be mirrored in this Snickers "Feast" commercial: |
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Rogue If you're reading this... You are the Resistance Since: 08-17-04 Since last post: 416 days Last activity: 224 days |
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| Note: If you are reading this thread, you are aware there are spoilers abound regarding the latest episodes of Heroes. You've been warned multiple times and I am warning you again now. Stop don't come whining to me that I spoiled something for you. Seriously.
SPOILERS!! While I would have been very unhappy with Mohinder, I don't think I would have hated him or regarded him as the worst character. He was probably thinking that by taking out Bennet, he would be saving Niki and getting him out of the way. What's more, he seemed to be showing remorse in the van on the way back to their homebase. Seriously though, I'm so stupidly happy that Bennet's still alive. He's my favorite character (next to Hiro/Ando, of course and followed closely by Sylar, Nathan, Matt and Mohinder  , but they aren't near as deep as he is). I loved him even when people were so completely sure he was evil. You know, until they saw "Company Man."
I noticed this about the show last season, but it was pointed out last night as well, EVERYONE has father issues (and in the case of the Petrellis and Sylar, mother issues as well): - Hiro -- Last season was just trying to live up to Kaito's expectations, and was then trained by him. Altogether one of the more positive father-son relationships on the show. - Claire -- Has a deep connection with Bennet, although at times very conflicting. Then of course there's the matter of Nathan being her real father, who somewhat fails at stepping up to be that. - Matt -- Obvious reasons. His father walked on him and went on to slowly take out what other original "heroes" he could. - Mohinder -- His father being a genius geneticist who cracked the list of who would develop an ability never really gave Mohinder a chance at a close relationship with him leading Mohinder to hit the books with avengeance to be a highly respected professor like his father until the day he discovered his father was murdered. The rest goes on from there as Mohinder heads to NY, becomes a cab driver, and meets Eden. Little to Mohinder's realization, he was actually the second child, only born to save his sister with his fresh stem cells, though it was already too late. - Niki/Jessica -- Daddy wasn't nice to little Jessie... - Nathan and Peter -- A lot of mystery surrounds the late Petrelli patriarch. It's still not completely clear if he was killed, committed suicide, or had heart problems (which is obviously the cover story). Apparently Daddy Petrelli could read minds as Angela's been slowly revealing with her dealings with Matt. Ah, Angela. Sold her soul to protect her sons, did she? She was also backing the entire push for Nathan to allow kid-bro Peter to kill a good chunk of New York last season. - Sylar -- Virginia apparently didn't give little Gabriel much attention when she went off into her own little world. After coming to the realization that he just might kill people who don't have abilities and she was too busy with her snow globes, Gabe and Virginia had a little accident with a pair of scissors. - Bennet -- Granted we haven't actually seen Bennet's father, but the Company does just as well for this issue. Be it Bob, Thompson, or the Company as a whole, Bennet's definitely been its figurative rebellious teenager trying to bring his daddy down. One could argue that the new characters, Maya, Alejandro, Monica, and Kensei/Adam don't have parental issues, but you never know. They are new. Kensei/Adam could claim Hiro created him and his disregard for others. Other characters that might be considered having issues: Micah's relationship with Niki/Jessica and D.L. While they both try their damnedest to be good parents, several issues keep getting in the way be it Linderman, Jessica's need for action, or any other personality that's beginning to emerge in poor Niki's head. |
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Rogue If you're reading this... You are the Resistance Since: 08-17-04 Since last post: 416 days Last activity: 224 days |
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| Las Vegas, Nevada
Cally walked with determination into the empty hallway, carrying her tray with the empty glasses in front of her, aware that someone was watching her around a corner. The door to the lounge, eased shut behind her. Continuing at her normal pace to prevent any conspicuousness, she turned a corner and doubled her pace, hearing the footsteps behind her quicken as well. "Cally!" She stopped, recognizing the voice. "Ag," She mumbled, then sighed in relief. "How much time do we have?" She asked turning to the one who called her. Agwe ((pronounced "Aug-way" in this story, though it may also be traditionally said as "Agg-way." More on him in the Discussion thread if necessary)), previously "Jared" the bartender, stood nearly a foot taller than Cally having dark skin and his head completely devoid of even the stubble of hair regrowing. "Security changes shifts in 4 minutes," He informed. "Did you have any trouble with the cameras? "The system has been down for the last 20. We should be safe, but we gotta move." They both began to walk at a very quickened pace, traversing the Montecito's hallway maze. A bartender and cocktail waitress walking together wouldn't be out of the ordinary, but with a few bodies discovered in a locked room, anyone with an entrance card would be called for questioning, especially one waitress who would normally solely serve the men in that room. "Karina'll be pleased to know her husband's murderer is dead." Cally huffed. Agwe nodded. "Didn't we take the job for his drug smuggling and weapon trafficking?" Cally grinned. "You say tomato, I say cocksucking murderer." (Last edited by Rogue on 11-21-07 02:06 PM) |
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Rogue If you're reading this... You are the Resistance Since: 08-17-04 Since last post: 416 days Last activity: 224 days |
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To be honest, I don't really buy into a lot of the crap people pitch around for Thanksgiving, especially considering the somewhat shady history of the cult we all know now as the Pilgrims.  Hell, my last Thanksgiving was spent at a Hometown Buffet with Zoso and his and dad and brother, having a lot of conversations and then going to see "Tenacious D: The Pick of Destiny" together.
While Thanksgiving shouldn't have to be a reminder to be grateful for what we've taken or been given in the past or for what beauty there is in the world, sometimes it takes a holiday that calls for seeing family you normally wouldn't see, a day of gorging oneself past the point of where saying you're full midway though would have been the truth, and possibly the promise you make to yourself never to do either at the same time again as you spend untold hours in the bathroom afterwards that can really make you think about the things in life you might take for granted. So all cheesiness aside what's made you feel a little humbler this year? All of the things for which I am thankful... - For the fact that both of my parents, after undergoing some serious medical treatment this year (a lump removed from my mom followed by a couple months of chemo, and tissue removal and a couple weeks in the hospital for my dad after discovering his severely diabetic condition), are both still alive and were able to take a couple vacations together this year. Though we still fight sometimes, I love them both and am glad they're still around for the occasional conflict. - For having an understanding boyfriend who embraces my crazy and often geeky nature, follows me to the ends of the earth and beyond and still has the courage to tell me when I might have gone too far. Brandon helps keep life very interesting. - For what friends I have and those I might one day meet. Admittedly my current circle of friends that I still see on a regular basis is somewhat smaller than in past years, but I've never felt completely alone in the world (at least not since the awkward high school days). Even the board's members help me feel a connection with others in times of despair. - For the strange brew of people that is Rocky Horror. It's not only been the reason I met Brandon, but it's been a stepping stone to the person I've become. I met Christina there, as well as Becky, Marty, Chef, and Levi who would form a band with Brandon. I went to hell and back with a lot of these people and it's given me a lot of great stories to tell. - For the world of conventions and sci-fi societies that have created a perpetual and ever-changing homecoming for me. Not only have conventions kept me from going insane over the years, they've also made me feel as though I'm not alone in the world -- nothing can beat many of the experiences I had this year at my conventions. God save the man who founded Comic-Con International. I'll probably write in more as I remember them. For now, these are the most important things for which I'm happy and grateful. Yes, it's probably silly to you to hear I'm thankful for conventions. Seriously, though, as inane as the idea might sound, cons have probably saved my life. (Last edited by Rogue on 11-21-07 01:49 AM) |
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Rogue If you're reading this... You are the Resistance Since: 08-17-04 Since last post: 416 days Last activity: 224 days |
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| I just want to drop a line saying I'll be out of town for the next couple days as I'm driving out to Arizona with my boyfriend to have Thanksgiving with his family out there.
As it is, my character is obviously not in the same place as the others, being a hit-woman and all, so I'm sure everything will run smoothly without me anyway. Hey, not every character makes it into every episode *cough cough Sylar lately cough cough wheeze* |
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Rogue If you're reading this... You are the Resistance Since: 08-17-04 Since last post: 416 days Last activity: 224 days |
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| ((OOC: Thanks, guys. It's been a really long time since I've done any sort of role play, and I'm still learning the ropes sometimes.))
Las Vegas, Nevada Not long after Cally and Agwe made their escape from the Montecito, changing clothes and personalities in the process to avoid any recognition, police, FBI and Interpol swarmed in to investigate the situation. In many ways all of the law officials present were all too thrilled to see a scumbag like John Talos go down. That is, if it were Talos. Fingerprints confirmed it was, but there wasn't much left of the poor sap's face to do any direct identifying. While Interpol tried to lay claim to the situation as they'd been looking for Talos for quite some time, lately to have him answer for the new Kalashnikovs the Sudanese Janjaweed were using, the FBI insisted on seeing the investigation through. "What are we looking at here, boys?" One of the FBI agents, Mortinson, asked his corresponding agency members. "I'd say based on the ammunition and grouping we're looking for a couple of standard issue UZI SMGs. With the way some of the bullet holes are burned, looks like silencers were used," one started. "Oh those crazy Israelis," Mortinson threw in. "Rick, what can you tell me?" "Lotta lead in the room, sir. Christ, LVPD's ballistics is up to 63 bullets in that wall alone," Rick reported. Mortinson's brow furrowed. "63? I don't think our suspect would have had the time to reload and get away unscathed if he's got two magazines of ammo in the wall on top of what he pumped into these guys." Mortinson gestured at all of the bodies. The room, abuzz with speculation, didn't notice the entrance of a darkened figure who walked into the room, surveying the scene, until his eyes fell on one body laying in the corner. "There had to be multiple shooters!" one agent exclaimed. "Another thing we're trying to figure out, sir--" Rick continued. "No one's finding any murder weapons, empty magazines or even any casings. It's like someone picked them all up and left with them afterwards. This happened almost within the hour, sir, I don't think anyone could have just taken their time rounding up all of the evidence before the camera system kicked back on." "And what if I told you..." The previously ignored and altogether mysterious man who'd come in undetected began, with an obvious British accent, "That this is all just the work of some silly, little girl who conjured up her own little unlimited ammunition guns and spirited them away with a flutter of her eyelash?" The room went silent. And then... "The fuck are you talking about?" "Who are you?!" "Who the hell let this drunk in?" "Security!" The mystery man mumbled to himself, "No ... I thought you wouldn't believe that." He slowly ambled his way out the door, leaving behind the shot up carcass of a cocktail waitress in a tight, black suede vest with a matching skirt, a slit going up her left leg. Her long dark hair pinned out of her face. "LINA" on her name tag. "Oh, Cally. What am I ever going to do with you?" he murmured, amusedly to himself. The VIP lounge behind him was filled with the senseless and confused shouting of agents trying to put in their two cents. "Maybe they had a vacuum cleaner!" "What if they hired an illegal to pick up all of the shells as they were dropped?" "Gentlemen! Gentlemen, please!" Mortinson shouted over the mass which quieted in unison. "We have 7 dead, no evidence. We're not turning up any fingerprints on what bullets we've pulled. The hotel's been searched and all staff have been accounted for. There's no tape of the shooting. We may be looking at a dead end. This case is closed until further notice." With that the lounge door closed behind George Wilford. (Last edited by Rogue on 11-21-07 06:08 PM) |
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Rogue If you're reading this... You are the Resistance Since: 08-17-04 Since last post: 416 days Last activity: 224 days |
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| Before reading over the answers, my immediate thought was to just shoot the guy, but immediately I wondered why I would have a gun and if I could really claim self-defense and so on. And then I really did go over why this guy might be attacking and then I just thought there wasn't really all that much to go on.
Yep, I'm somewhat on the left.
Still I did initially want to kill the guy. |
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Rogue If you're reading this... You are the Resistance Since: 08-17-04 Since last post: 416 days Last activity: 224 days |
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Originally posted by Super Hiro 
Happy birthday, Only 17? Still have time to commit a few crimes and maybe only get a slap on the wrist by our surprisingly neglectful justice system. |
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Rogue If you're reading this... You are the Resistance Since: 08-17-04 Since last post: 416 days Last activity: 224 days |
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| It's day 18.. I think. 17 or 18.
Anyway, people are putting out more videos like this: So yeah, Heroes is ending in a couple episodes, as will several other shows. Looks like things like Deal or No Deal are coming back. Oh well. I don't watch much television these days anyway. More time for reading, I guess. |
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Rogue If you're reading this... You are the Resistance Since: 08-17-04 Since last post: 416 days Last activity: 224 days |
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| ((OOC: So as it turns out, I have a little bit of Internet access at the place I'm staying. Just a little something to add while I'm here))
"Donnie was a good man, full of life. A good husband and a loving son and brother--" the preacher droned on. Cally glanced at her watch again through her dark glasses. "Every dead man was 'full of life,'" she mused, mildly rolling her eyes. It was obviously not the first funeral she'd been to and it most likely wouldn't be the last. Cally'd always hated how every eulogy was pretty much the same: a declaration of being a "loving" this, a "dedicated" that, followed by an eventual rounding out of the stiff's hobbies, and then of course... "... spending his days surfing the many beaches along the California coast until that one fateful day. Donnie was in the wrong place at the wrong time. God had a plan for Donnie--" the preacher continued. "Here we go..." "--and it involved meeting his maker at the hands of bad men. Donnie could not have known what evils he was encountering every day in his daily job. His job which helped him pay the bills, support his wife, Emily, and what future children they were planning to have together. A job that would eventually lead to his untimely end." All around, people were sobbing. Aching. Cally smoothed out her skirt and sighed heavily. It wasn't fair that she reaped an innocent man before his time, but funerals were always the same story time and again. A family comes together to grieve--united in sorrow. Cally's mourning period for her parents consisted of push-ups at 3 a.m., cold showers at dawn, and a slap on the wrist whenever she'd shed a tear, revealing weakness. There wasn't any tenderness in her Spartan training. Either way, Cally may have been hard, but she wasn't inhuman. Guilt occasionally seeped through the cracks, although it was often stifled. Still, all the years of hating cold-blooded murderers not a day went by that she didn't wonder if she was just as bad. "I can't believe you actually went to the dealer's funeral, Roxton." Cally didn't turn around. She knew that accent anywhere. "I'm not in the mood for sparring right now, George," she said. The funeral group at the cemetary was small, with many seats set out near the grave. Cally sat in the very back, away from the family and friends. George stood directly behind her folding chair. "I swear, you are absolutely the most peculiar hired gun I've ever acquainted. If you're going to feel so bad about it why don't you just turn him into a duck or something? Can't testify against you then, can he?" "Enough, George." "So where's Agwe?" George prodded. "He's just as responsible as you are, isn't he?" "It's his weekend with his daughter--Now if you don't mind..." "Oh, Callisto, who are you fooling?" He firmly clasped her shoulders. "Stop playing Inigo Montoya for a minute. It's time to drop the revenge thing." She promptly stood up and walked away, George power-walked to her side. "So I heard from the widow that she received a very hefty sum from a 'Jane Doe.' Enough to pay all of the funeral expenses and a bit more, even. That wouldn't be from a particular person's Swiss bank account, would it?" She walked a little faster. He grinned, allowing her to slowly out-pace him. "Would it?" he called. She started running, leaving a grinning George in her dust. (Last edited by Rogue on 11-24-07 05:14 PM) |
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Rogue If you're reading this... You are the Resistance Since: 08-17-04 Since last post: 416 days Last activity: 224 days |
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Originally posted by !X! Shit, looking at those symptoms, I have clinical depression. I seriously think it's a blanket term for feeling lousy about life, which everyone does feel most of the time. Life's not going to be a barrel of monkeys (who the hell came up with this analogy?!) all the time. It's going to be boring, painful, tedious, unfair, and then you die. That's life. Suicide is for the wimps. |
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Rogue If you're reading this... You are the Resistance Since: 08-17-04 Since last post: 416 days Last activity: 224 days |
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| Admittedly, I had to teach myself most of the things that go along with sex. I don't know about anywhere else, but where I live most of the students here that go through sex ed aren't taught anything valuable--it's always "Abstinence is the best policy" without going into contraception, how to deal with STDs and so on. My parents only started asking or trying to talk about it AFTER they figured I was already sexually-active (and this was 2 years into the current relationship I'm in now placing me at 20 or 21).
Personally I think parents should suck it up and not be afraid to talk to their kids about sex and other natural processes. Teach them that while it's good to wait, there are plenty of options open to them. Because if they don't, they're going to learn it from their friends, which is often the worst way to learn it (especially when you have friends who think Coca-Cola's a good spermicide). When I was 13 and kissed for the first time and the guy kept trying to get his hand under my shirt (which he didn't, so there ), for a couple months after I worried that I was pregnant. Seriously.
And that's just little old, save-it-for-marriage, unexperimenting me. Imagine how it could be for 13-year-olds now. Many who just want to be loved and accepted and who might mistake sex and foreplay as their way to both. Pretty scary thought. |
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Rogue |
If you're reading this... You are the Resistance Since: 08-17-04 Since last post: 416 days Last activity: 224 days
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((OOC: Playing catch-up))
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Costa Verde, California The next morning, after Cally spent the night driving back from the funeral near Las Vegas, she trodded up the stairs of her Costa Verde apartment building. She hadn't bothered to let herself cry. She didn't see any point in letting the dam burst after 20-some-odd-years and it would NOT be to please George Wilford. She unlocked the door, let herself in, slammed the door behind her, turned around and latched it. Her living space was rather sparse and she didn't bother keeping animals. Though she would have appreciated the company it wouldn't have been fair to a dog or cat to be left alone for weeks on end sometimes. She tiredly walked into her living room, taking off her coat, dropping a prayer card for the late Donnie Rosenburg on a side table with the others, kissing the tips of her fingers and placing them to a picture of her dead parents. Noticing a red light blinking on the answering machine, she walked over to it, pressed the button and paused to listen. "You have 2 new messages. Message 1 received today at 8:11 a.m." "Callisto? Hi, it's Karina! I just wanted to call and thank you so ... so ..." Karina's voice audibly gave away that she was beginning to cry if she wasn't already. "so... VERY MUCH for all the help you've given me. I can't express my ..." She choked on her words. "... my unbelievable gratitude. You're an angel. I know this will never bring Richard back, but Erin and I feel so much safer now. She's getting taller, Cally, you should come visit again soon. And she hasn't had any nightmares or wet her bed since she heard about Talos. If there's anything ... ANYTHING we can do, just call us. OK? I'll talk to you later." Cally smiled a little more contentedly. It was things like this that were thousands of times sweeter than any pay-off for a job. "Next message. Message 2 received today at 9:28 a.m." "Callllllllllllisto. Cally. Miss Roxton? If you're there, pick up the phone." Cally sighed. Fucking George. "Look, I want to apologize for confronting you yesterday. I know there's only so much you can do when the chips are down..." He paused. "Heh sorry, bad pun." He cleared his throat. "When you're in the business, you have to lose a few pawns here and there to win the game." She rolled her eyes and walked into her bedroom, where she could still hear the recording, to change clothes. "We have to talk," George continued. "I need your help for something big. It's not a job, just an assignment. You're the only one I can trust with this. You know the number." Click. Down to a bra and underwear and looking for something else to put on, she heard a floorboard creak. Standing perfectly straight, with her back to the approaching body, she continued to give the impression that she was still looking through her wardrobe. As she felt the presence closing in behind her, she closed her eyes and tried to sense where they were in the room and in relation to her. At about 4 feet away, when she could hear the other person breathing, noting that they were a bit taller than she, Cally turned quickly delivering a roundhouse kick directly to the other person's face, knocking him face down to the ground. "You're not going to call me back right away, Roxton?" The body, George obviously, said. "I said I was sorry. What more do you want?" He let out a chuckle. "Goddamn it, George!" She put her hand out to help him up. "What the fuck are you doing sneaking around here?" He looked at her hand and back up at her. "I dunno, the vista point is pretty scenic from down here." His eyes settled on her chest, barely covered by the scant, lacy garment. She took her hand away, but didn't bother covering up. Shame, like tears, was something she gave up many years ago. And besides, in his mid-30s, she was sure it wasn't something he hadn't seen before anyway. "I wanted to fill you in more on the assignment," George began, rising up from the floor. "You couldn't just call me or something?" "Didn't want to seem desperate leaving multiple messages," he jested. A bit exasperated she turned back to her wardrobe, unclasping her bra, and dropping it, by the strap, onto the wardrobe's door. He continued, never taking his eyes off her now-bare back, "You're going to need to go by another pseudonym for this caper. It's of the utmost importance that you be very thorough in your fake persona as well." Cally reached into her wardrobe, pulled out a fluffy, light green bathrobe and draped it over her shoulders, not bothering to tie it shut as she whirled around to face him, looking him in the eye though she noticed his gaze continued to drift low for a bit before wandering back to her face. "It's another pick-up job. Meet me at this address in an hour," He handed her a scrap of paper. "Put everything together, IDs, birth certificates, childhood toys, everything. Here's a file to give you an idea of someone who might have been distantly associated with our target. Callisto, you're the only person I know who can get this done right," he reassured her and further handing her the papers gathered together in a folder. *** An hour gone by Cally was sitting in a beat-up silver '86 240 DL Volvo in a parking lot near the address George gave her. She'd mentally detailed everything about it from the broken speedometer to the faded pink, strawberry-scented evergreen tree-shaped air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror and even to the clunking sounds in the drive line from the male and female splines rubbing each other the wrong way. Machines were always easy for her. As were documents. A moment later, George was standing outside her car door, rapping on the glass. She opened the door and stepped out. "Nice ride," he said. "What do you get for MPG?" She rolled her eyes mildly and closed the door. They both started to walk toward the building. "You're his mother's second cousin, Andrew Graves, whom she hasn't seen in several years," Cally started. "You remember when he was born, being at his parents' wedding and so on, but haven't seen him since he was 3 due to a falling out you had with his father. You've seen the file, you know when this all was. I'm your girlfriend, Mia Bolanco. We've been seeing each other for 4 years and have thought about getting engaged on a few occasions, but due to a miscarriage we had a couple years ago, things haven't been the same, thus we fight continuously but still function well together." "Well that certainly does explain a few things," George smirked. "Anyway, here's the guardianship paperwork and all that," Cally said, handing off a peach folder with various papers stuffed in. They got up to the door. George opened it, holding it open for Cally to walk through first and he followed her inside. A couple of secretaries were typing away in the front office. A mid-50s-looking woman with dyed red hair, horn-rimmed glasses with a beaded chain attached to the edges so that her glasses wouldn't fall too far should they slip off, a slightly wrinkled face, red lipstick, a pink cardigan hanging over her shoulders and homely grandmother smile looked up at the approaching couple. "May I help you?" She queried. "SHIELA MORAN" appeared on a plastic faux-wooden desk name plate in front of her. "Yes, Ms. Moran," George responded. "A Mr. Graves here to see Principal Hicks concerning a current student if he isn't too busy." "Not at all. Right this way," Shiela said, standing and guiding George and Cally to the principal's office. "Jim," she said knocking on Principal Hicks' door. "Someone here to see you about a student." "Come in!" Was heard from inside the office. "What's this all about?" Hicks asked as "Andrew" and "Mia" entered, Shiela closing the door behind them and leaving their meeting some privacy. George took a seat. "I'm afraid this concerns one of your students. Eddie Powter." He began. (Last edited by Rogue on 12-20-07 04:23 PM)
Rogue |
If you're reading this... You are the Resistance Since: 08-17-04 Since last post: 416 days Last activity: 224 days
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Celebration High
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George ran from the office, running in the direction he was sure Eddie went. Cally calmly turned to the principal, her back straight while sitting in the chair across from him. "We're really sorry about this. Eddie's been through a lot as you can tell. It's not easy for a child to lose his parents so early. Would you mind if we looked for him and had a little talk? I'm sure the appearance of family he hasn't seen since before he can remember and being told that he has to leave all of his friends behind isn't something he wants right now." "Usually visitors need to check in and fill out some paperwork. Legal reasons, you know. Can't have people coming in and abducting anyone," he chuckled. "Yes, of course," Cally nodded as well, smiling sweetly, radiating the feeling of understanding. "But seeing as these are special circumstances, I don't see a problem with it," he said. "I mean, we have quite a bit of paperwork already proving who you are here." He patted the file on his desk. Cally grinned. "Just put on one of these," he further said, pulling a couple of name tags from his drawer and placing them on his desk. Both had a blue outline with "Hello! My name is" printed at the top, and "VISITOR" Sharpie'd in the white box. "Here's one for Mr. Graves as well." She stood up and bent over his desk to collect the name tags. "If you ever need to reach me, or if you're looking for a good photographer or anything, here's my card." She handed him a business card--"Mia Bolanco" below where it read "MOST VALUABLE PHOTOGRAPHERS." The logo on the card appeared to be a typical piece of clip art: a 35mm film camera with an elongated lens. Oddly enough though, there appeared to be some sort of S-shape reflected on the glass of the lens. Hicks didn't notice this, however, after gladly accepting her card. With that she excused herself and strolled out of his office, donning one of the name tags, following where George had run, still calmly walking in that general direction. A second later, the bell rang. "Lovely," she mused. She was sure George was pissed wherever he was, and though she should be aggravated right along with him, she continued her slow pace through the hallways. She oddly found pleasure in George's discontent. Besides, he was making her do most of the work anyway. Cally sauntered through the tidal waves of teenagers rushing to get to their next classes and those idling around in the halls with their friends. Running around them would just tire her out too quickly, draw attention to the situation and cause more trouble than it was worth. So she walked, smiling at the occasional teacher who'd walk by. (Last edited by Rogue on 11-26-07 06:09 AM)
Rogue |
If you're reading this... You are the Resistance Since: 08-17-04 Since last post: 416 days Last activity: 224 days
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Celebration High
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Taking her time to get back outside to George's car after he'd called her to say that he "successfully" got the situation under control, she went about constructing the pneumatic syringe in her head. Unlike a simple gun the syringe was much more of had-to-get-this-right-or-you-might-kill-someone sort of device, not that guns wouldn't explode in your hand if you didn't get all of the facets the right shape and size, but pneumatic syringes weren't meant to do what a gun was designed for. Instructions on how to put the damn thing together was one of the many resources she was left with after the Company contacted her the first time. She'd found it odd that they left severely confidential materials to someone they'd just met, at least so they'd claimed. But what was the syringe when compared to the volumes of weapons and artillery manuals she'd had to read and pour over since she was a kid? The anatomy books, the automotive guides, the occasional "Particle Excelleration for Dummies" and anything she could get her hands on? It completely defied logic that she could make something from nothing, but then again she'd met people who could fly without having any means of doing so, people who reanimated dead organisms, people who transported themselves in and out of the fabric of time, and people who've somehow mastered gaining the powers of others without physical contact of any sort. The syringe was almost ready. She'd just gotten done mentally adding the serum and the injector head when the device fell from the air in front of her into her hand as she strutted to the car which had come into sight a few minutes prior. George noticed her coming in the rearview mirror and got out of the car to approach her. "What the blazes took you so long?!" George demanded. "I could have used your help up there! Instead you're smelling the roses and jeopardizing the mission!" "You can't just run around a school like that, Wilford!" She defended, poking her index finger in his chest to make a point. "A grown man running after a student at a high school? Obviously people are going to think the worst and try to keep us from him. I had to stay back and make sure the damned principal didn't suspect anything when you bolted like that." With that she threw the gun-like injector into his hands, forcing him clutch it to his chest. "Don't talk to me about jeopardizing missions!" She spat as she got into the driver's side and closed the door behind her, forcing him to get in the passenger side. He was somewhat thankful that Eddie was unconscious and probably hadn't heard her castrating his ego like she often did. He didn't mind her fury from time to time, but not in front of the kids. Hard enough getting any sort of respect these days without having a woman, somewhat shorter than he, defiantly crossing his every move and emasculating him whenever she had the opportunity. It was moments like these that made making her feel guilty about the life she'd chosen much more deserved. Sure, he'd killed his share of innocents--those who were in the wrong place at the wrong time, whom it would have been convenient to kill off rather than try to flay out a situation to them or even those he was instructed to take out despite their not having any real guilt. But he didn't go to their funerals. He wasn't sure if Cally's respect for the innocents she'd laid out was a flaw in her armor or something to be commended, either way she didn't seem all too proud of it and it was a way for him to easily bait her. She backed up the car and they drove away toward the clandestine facility. Finally some silence at last, George thought. Picking up emo kids who'd rather throw themselves from roofs was so much easier than having a conversation with this harpy. After a couple hours of driving in silence with the occasional bout of labored and heavy breathing that would arise in the backseat before bedding back down, they arrived at what appeared to be a business park. George got on his phone immediately to say, "We're here," hanging up the phone once again. Cally drove around a building where an industrial roll-up door rose. The person raising it, waved at Cally and George before stepping away to let them through. Cally then drove the vehicle into the building where the door was immediately pulled back down behind them. (Last edited by Rogue on 11-26-07 08:18 PM)
Rogue |
If you're reading this... You are the Resistance Since: 08-17-04 Since last post: 416 days Last activity: 224 days
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I do not hate Mohinder in any way. He's one of my favorite characters on the show.
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Xeo was just implying that should HRG really have been killed off he would have been completely upset with Mohinder. I didn't really see Mohinder as evil for shooting Bennet. It looks like he may have been the one to use Claire's blood to save him even (we really don't know, though). All in all, I just assumed that to save Niki he felt he had to shoot Bennet to save Bob. Either way, it looks like Bob's about to get his own just desserts at the hands of his daughter.
Rogue |
If you're reading this... You are the Resistance Since: 08-17-04 Since last post: 416 days Last activity: 224 days
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Because that game just needed more poser dorks joining up because they saw it on TV?
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I've never really gotten into the whole MMORPG thing. It's just been nothing but the bottom of the barrel for those two lately, hasn't it?
Rogue |
If you're reading this... You are the Resistance Since: 08-17-04 Since last post: 416 days Last activity: 224 days
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Originally posted by One Shot One Kill I think what Logos was implying (and not that I mean to put words into his mouth) is that aspects such as STDs, contraception and all of that should be taught, but parents shouldn't be pulling out the Kama Sutra to go over positions and such. That part is instinctual as he so says. | ||||||||||||||
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