Roleplay Part 10

yep, we are waiting for you.

 

EPIC LONG POST TIME! cough * I totally didn't forget I was in the rp*cough.
I got up and moved twoard benji. "We're taking time becuase we must think as we go, no point in going ahead and getting everyone killed, now is there?" I moved forward and sat down again. "And besides, I'm old now. Hard as it is to admit I'm not in tip top shape anymore. And my stress has aged me! I CREATED WEAPONS FOR THE WAR! I HELPED MAKE THIS WORLD DIE!!!!"
I fell on the floor crying I couldn't speak anymore.

 

Umm...

 

I looked over at Odessa who had light up a smoke, this caused a small grin to spread across my face as I shook my head. "I wonder how that cat likes the smoke in the cat." I thought to myself. My attention was then directed elsewhere as Joe got up and walked over to Benjamin. He exchanged a few words with him for he laid down on the ground crying. I bursted out laughing, it wasn't even that funny but for some reason I just kept on laughing.

Fear can do that to a man.

 

benji is crule

 

I stood up from my meal, and walked out of the shabby bar. I felt it is time to go home, and see my family, I wondered if there was any caravans back to the Market.

*CROSS-RED-LINE-POLIS-4TH-REICH-TRANSPORTATION
Market, VDNKh, Kievskaya

Well, the Market was listed as the first stop, why not? I walked to the counter, and bought a ticket to the Market.

Twenty minutes passed until I heard "Now boarding Cross Metro Transit!" I quickly ran over to the cart with all of my gear, and took a seat. I was with about twenty others, now I am currently in transit.

 

Urrh...
You'll have to apologize my absence, it was due to exams and the likes, in addition to a funeral, that, shortly put, was in a place with limited internet-connection. I'll slip a post in here, but there are more exams to come, so, if not otherwise stated, I'll just be tagging after the group.

I had with my short attention-span managed to completely forget the facial-scanners "malfunction" when scanning my face, and now that I finally remembered it again I was sitting a train, which, as a digression, probably was the most amazing place I could remember ever having been.

I was sitting in the front of the wagon, while most others had positioned themselves in the back, and there I did as I usually do when sitting down; checked the leg and checked my gear. The leg was fine, but the bottom rubber padding had started wearing of, something I noted in a notebook I had acquired while in Polis, not trusting my own memory. Otherwise, the string of the crossbow had snapped, probably after long exposure to wear and tear.

At that point I felt a most horrible limpness spread first trough the remaining part of my left hand, and then moving on to the rest of my left body. With my left "hook" I was then pressing the hard-backed notebook down onto my leg, still hastily scribbling down my unruly markings.
I had been left-handed before the... accident... my right-hand writing was still at the level of a six year olds, at most...
What a... starnge thought to think at such a moment, I thought slowly to myself, the toughts pressing their way through masses upon massers of dense slimy brain-liquid.
And what a... h... horrible time to get such a seiz... seizure; one of my last recognizeable thoughts, as i with a bloodshot eye looked back to the other people on the train. They were carrying on with theirs.

One final signal, one final impulse of nerval electricity reached my concioussness before the horrid dreams of mental illness completely overflowed my besieged fortress of self-awareness and humanity: Oh...
Please don't let there be spasms. Or froth...

But there would be.
My notebook dropped to the floor, and the unsharpened pencil rolled back towards the back of the train as I started my agonising travel through twisted, dark memories I had lost long ago.

For replies that might follow my post, I'll be sure to check at least once day, if not more, to write a not too short "re-reply".

 

Just to be clear, you guys can't get to the Emerald City via train or tunnels. It was stated in the book that the tunnels leading to the University station had collapsed, blocking it off from the rest of the Metro. This is why the Emerald City is deemed a myth, because people in the Metro cannot access it. Its basically the canon's version of Atlantis.

Light finally filled my life again. When my eyes flicked open, I gasped and my fingers clenched around the object nearest to me, a nightstand. I sat myself up from the mattress, glancing around the damp room I inhabited. The impulses in my brain only sent signals asking one question. The orbs in my skulls only sought for one person. Yuri. Where was Yuri? The thought echoed in my mind until I became frantic. As I soon found out, he was not among the inhabitants of the room. It was only the figure and I. The shadow, a tall and bulging man with a trimmed grayish goatee, was seated upon a chair in the corner of the dimly lit room. The upper portion of his face was covered by the shadow a nearby shelf portrayed along the wall.

"So you are finally awake. About time, you've been out for the past three days. I was starting to think that I knocked you to hard, so hard that you might not wake up.", the shadow said with an eerily familiar voice.

At first, I cocked my head to the side, as if to hear him better. That voice struck needles into my spine. That voice haunted me in my dreams. I did not want to believe that this faceless shadow was who I thought I was, but even after all these years I could still tell who the voice belonged to. It had been a long time since I had heard words come from that throat. It had been ages since I heard the flick of that tongue. It had been a long time since I saw my father. My dead father. And his voice felt like fire burning on the brims of my ears.

 

I slowly began to stop laughing, as my gaze went around the whole carriage this was when I heard the sound of a pencil and notebook falling on the floor. Two familiar sounds at best as it attracted my attention and made me slowly turn to see where this sound had came from. What I saw was horrifying and unmistakable one, the man was having a seizure. Without even thinking I got up and rushed over to the man.
"Someone help this man is having a seizure!." I screamed out to the rest of the train.

Where did this seizure come from? Epilepsy? No can't be. Stroke? Probably. Maybe t is just idiopathic. I help up before he could fall on the ground just to make sure he was safe.
"Someone help me to make sure he doesn't hurt himself." I called out again.

 

sorry If I don't post for a while. metro last light is making me busy

 

I chose to skip ahead a few hours, I don't want to write about all of that boring shit.

Anyhow, as I approached my tent, a man and my father were standing outside.
I heard from the man...
"The name is George, I have a mission if your able- bodied son is up for it. Just getting some supplies from hell." He then pointed up.

As I approached them I said "Who is this?" To my father. He simply replied "Someone offering me one hundred cartridges if you go to the surface with him!!!"

I glanced to the man "What are we going after?"

He replied "A cannery, there may be packaged, or canned foods still there, as in SPAM, and others of the sort."

I then said "Well, if it's to help the Metro, I don't see why not."

"Right, you seem like you have the right shit, gasmask, coat, ammo, and a weapon!"
"We will be leaving in 5 hours, rest up boy!"

 

The words someone is having a seizure rang out. I stood up and ran towards Anton who was near Bezymyannyy. I take out another of my books, this time a medical journal. The small, almost impossible to read text was filled with information. I strained my eyes to read as I flicked through the pages.
"Seizures...Seizures...Seizures, here we are." I quickly scan the page.

"Don't hold him. Clear the area as much as you can but don't stop his body. We need to let the seizure run it's course. I need someone to time how long it's been I don't have a watch." I remove my trench coat and place underneath Bezymyannyy's head.

"When the seizure stops, we put him in the recovery position. Do not offer him food or water until I say so. We don't want him choking." I wait around, taking deep breaths in order to compose myself.

"We have to wait.."

 

First off here, apologies if my last post conflicted with any ideas anybody else had. My plan with the "Seizure"-post was to create at least some action, something I'd say I've been succesful with so far, while incorporating some backstory for Bezymyannyy at the same time. Nevertheless, if this goes on into the "main story" of this part of the roleplay: Joe's story, Bezymyannyy can be, when he has recovered a bit, left of in a "safehouse", while the group makes their way to the Emerald City (and leaves a trail, perhaps).

Anyway, about my following posts, I plan to split them up, having a third-person, "author/god-character" when writing in italic text, and Bez' dream in normal text. Also, to make things clear, this is a seizure, not a stroke, a symptom of Bez' little accident two years ago, though I guess you figured that, at least if you read my character-description.

Eyes open. Light.. No, darkness. Or something in between, I wasn't sure. I was in a room, on a bench, and the room continued forever upwards and forwards. There were no shadows, and no light, only this greyish thing in between covering all. How i could make the shape of the bench or the room, or even me, I did not know.

On a pedestal before me sat a human brain, with wire's running down towards... me. The brain was leaking a viscous liquid of unrecogniseable color, and.. It seemed to be bulging at points, as if something wanted to get out, soon at one spot, and then another.

I arose from my "bench", which was situated against the back wall of the room. My legs and arms were sharp rods of shining metal, and I looked into my right "arm", hoping it would reflect my face to me. The image I saw was the most grotesque thing I had ever seen, but as soon as I looked away in fear and disgust, the image was wiped from my memory. For what seemed like a millenium or more, I stood there, again and again looking at horrid twisted versions of my face in the reflection of my arm.
I only stopped when I felt something against the left "blade": my brain had leaked it's liquid so much it had flooded the room completely.

My resolution kicked in, and I stepped forwards towards the pedestal and the endless gap beyond it, the wall following tightly behind me, never letting my back go. I stopped by the pedestal, and after thinking a bit, picked the brain up in my "arms", trying my best to hold it with the unsharpened ends of my arms. When I did this, the liquid stopped leaking, but, as a contrary, the bulging sped up.

My buisness done in this strange place, I pressed on, and while the wall never let me go, it seemed I made good progress. A loud crack echoed from the egg, and, as it was the first sound i had heard in the room, I panicked and dropped the brain. This might have gone well enough for the brain, but my reflexes kicked in before my logic, and in one impulsive movement I had sliced the brain in two when I feverishly tried to catch the brain in the air.

*​

As soon as Bezymannyy dropped his pen and paper, people had rushed over, the first being Anton. His condition had soon been diagnozed, and treated as seizures should. However, the set diagnoze was wrong; what was confirmed as a stroke was most certainly not a stroke, and though it's cause was something that resembled a seizure's cause, the Metro's strangeness was most certainly involved at some level.
Because of this the seizuere lasted some minutes before it stopped, Bezymyannyy did not wake up. He still moved once in a while, and his symptoms more and more resembled those of a harsh fever, yet not quite.

 

Fix't

 

"None the less, welcome to the Emerald City.", the ghost exclaims.

What the ghost says next was irrelevant as I could not hear him, nor did I want to. Though I could see his lips moving, my eyes were locked in place with where his should be. My mind was somewhere else, digging its way through past memories, and with them reviving past pain. Now resurrected, the pain consumed my body. The fire on the brim of my ear was quick to turn into irritation, which in turn was almost instantly replaced by anger; an anger that had long dwelled inside me. An anger that had been building up in me from the moment my mother died until this exact second. Anger caused by starving stomachs, bloody knuckles, busted lips, bruised cheeks, shattered hearts, and broken minds. An anger that I had wanted to keep in me until my dying day, because never in my worthless existence have I ever contemplated that there was a human being alive who deserves the wrath of my anger. But there was, there is. There is someone who is alive, and they do deserve this anger. And they are sitting in a chair in front of me. The question is how am I going to express this feeling. Violence was the first thing to come to mind.

I reach for my holster, yet I find nothing. In lieu of being weaponless, I lunge myself like a savage beast towards my father while simultaneously releasing this anger in the form of a cry. A sorrowful and frantic chant my soul produces to relieve itself from this pain. What were meant to be words came out as a roar. A glass shattering, tunnel collapsing roar. The volume of the roar, matched with the sheer force of my anger driven body, sends my father out of his chair and through the damp and mold weakened wall of the makeshift building's second level, in which I had apparently been staying for the last three days. We tumble towards the courtyard below. Crashing onto the firm pavement, the chair breaks under the weight of my father and I. I land on top of my father, straddle his chest, and quickly proceed to bash his head in with my fists. Left hook, right hook. Left hook, right hook. Again and again my scarred and ink marked hands pumble into my father's face. His similarly scarred and ink marked hands are unable to protect him. All the while I am releasing my anger physically upon my father, I am also releasing it verbally; my cry shrieking into the night of the Emerald City.

Almost as soon as I began this therapy, it is over. Several figures were quick to yank me from my father, who if given longed enough, I would have most likely killed. The figures pin me up against a wall, directly under the hole I created in the second floor. Though completely trapped, I still struggle. My screams and desperate attempts to free myself from the hands of those who are suppressing my heart's will are futile, yet I continue to try, to fight. It is a good minute or two before the anger and adrenaline flowing through my veins cools. Still unaware of my certain location and dazed by the current events, I look around frantically. When my eyes catch glance of my knuckles, they stop. I stare at the tattoo on one of my fingers, I did not remember it being red. It wasn't red, I soon figured out, as the color quickly shifted downwards towards the tips of my fingers and onto the cold pavement below. My eyes begin to follow the blood dripping from my now swelling knuckles to the floor. Drip, drop. Drip, drop. 'His blood or mine?', I ask myself. 'Does it really matter?', I answer myself, 'You are one in the same. Your blood is his blood.' And with that note, I finally look back to my father. Like a lump sack he lies on the city street as people tend to his injuries. It almost makes me feel bad for him, but after what he put me through, what he put mother through, what he put Yuri thro--. Yuri! Where is Yuri?!

 

After some minutes, Bezymannyy's body had laid still, the seizures had subsided. He was still alive but unconscious I assumed.
"3 minutes 49 seconds" I noted. "Chyort, this isn't good." I checked the small medical journal and the only advice it gave was:
If a seizure lasts for more than 2 minutes, call an ambulance immediately and seek medical advice. That's really going to help us, I thought.

"Right. Considering Joe is out for the count we'll have to think of our next step. The main tunnels to the Emerald City are blocked or destroyed. We'll have to reach it via the surface. There is a Revolutionary safe-house not too far from there. It is generally unmaned and was our original goal before we met you people." I sat down to think of what to do, before a small thought over Joe's inane rumblings occurred. So he made weapons for the war? What war? The war that created this, the nuclear war most likely. But why would a nuclear bomb designer want a book concerning quantum physics.

OH SHIT

I immediately stand up and face towards Joe. I hold my hand over my revolver, not unholstering it but still a passive aggressive threat.
"I don't know about you, but a person that made nuclear weapons isn't planning to make daisy chains with a book called Dark and Anti-Matter Location 3/4. So would you kindly explain what the hell are you planning?" My voice took on a much darker and aggressive tone, and the hints of a shattered innocence came through as I appeared to be much more serious than someone of my age.

 

'Manyy had collapsed, but the others seemed to have it under control, so I just continued cleaning, checking and re-checking my gear. But suddenly Alek's attention shifted to Joe, who he now accused of being a nuclear weapons scientist. It really did seem quite shady to me as well, just using us as his workforce to create some form of post-apocalyptic weapon of mass destruction. I stood up and positioned myself besides Alek, to show that I backed his suspicion. My AS Val was clearly visible, so I hoped he would feel intimidated.