Act I Through the Looking Glass [Purple Zone Open Thread]

[Yidhra]

District 8: The Black Hole
Location: Streets around the bar
[member="Vulpesen"] | [member="Zandra Tal'verda"] | [member="Matsu Ike"] | [member="Kira Charr"] | [member="Infected Drones"]


Imagine this: a peaceful, quiet suburban neighborhood with spacious houses all built in neat rows. All identical, all the same bland white color with two storeys and a gently sloping roof. A small garden out back, with a pond and some fish thrown in, maybe a tree or two for shade when summer hit and the concrete heated up.

It was a decent place to live, as far as places went these days. It could definitely be worse.

It could be the Black Hole, for example.

Here, white was about rare as snow in hell, with the appropriate temperatures to boot. Even though it was a surface district, the stacks of cellars, shops, apartments, and Emperor knows what else had long risen so high that one easily forgot they were walking around on ground level. Sun hadn't peeked down onto the streets for a while now, and it was probably a good thing, because there was truly nothing to see around here. The walls were dirty and painted over with countless tags and grafitti, voices of the lonely and the demented crying to be heard over each other. They saved him the trouble, in the long run, the way they cleaned up each other and their own messes. Nergal only had to come down here once in a while, sweep the leftovers under some rug, and disappear again.

Quiet as a ghost, always.

His agents, however, not so much.

"—and then he asked me to make it quick. Hah! Can you believe that? I tell you, Dras, these guys…"

The man trailed off with the shake of a head as he rounded the corner, eclipsed not a moment after by his towering companion. Dras, as he'd called him, was a beastly human in all aspects of the word, nearly as wide as he was tall, and visibly bulging with muscles despite the black body armor obscuring most of his bulky frame. He had to duck his head and twist himself sideways to even pass by the pipes clogging the street, righting his shoulders and sniffing the stale air like a dog as the pair halted.

His small eyes narrowed at the group of people running towards them, and fingers that looked like they could crush a man's skull without much effort tightened around the stun baton on his belt.

These weren't your run-of-the-mill Armed Peackeepers. That much was obvious from the grim — no, hungry — expressions on their faces, from the dark hues of their body armor, from the DfR insignia emblazoned proudly on their chests.

"This what I think it is, Dras?" the smaller agent asked with a queer curl to his lips. He wasn't quite smiling, but he wasn't sneering either.

Dras didn't say anything at first, merely tilting his head to the side on the thick root of his neck. The fingers shifted just a little bit lower.

"Can we help you, citizens?" Dras spoke at last, and didn't look like he would mind if they said no.

 

[WelshGuy]

He noticed several Peacekeepers are such patrolling the streets that were emptier the further from the protests they were. Yuroic followed his father closely, studying the man curious to know the man more as they walked, he always wondered what his parents looked like and whether or not they had the Force like him, or more importantly his sense of humour.

Perhaps he wasn't from here.

The longer he walked around, he found himself thinking less like a slave whose parents have always be by his side under the rule of an apparent onmipresent Emperor. He thought more like someone from a universe of war, free will, and Force Users. He scratched his cheek slowly as he looked around.

"We're here, Yuroic. You coming in son?" His father asked as he noticed Yuroic daydreaming and gazing around as if everything was new.

"Nu... No, I think I saw someone I recognised..." Yuroic said as he turned away from his father who shrugged and went in on his own.

Yuroic didn't recognise them at all but he knew from their look that they weren't Imperialist and he couldn't be the only one from another universe here.

"Hey, need a hand with the drone? I don't think I'm from this universe if you get what I mean..." He said hopeful as he then eyed the droid with deep caution.

[member="Kira Charr"] | [member="Infected Drones"]

 

[Edric Vanyan]

[member="Yuroic Xeraic"] [member="Nergal"] [member="Infected Drones"]

Location: Black Hole District, Bar area

Kira was about to respond to the drone when the words of another man came to her ears and she had to think quickly. Damned peacekeepers always seemed to show up when the things around you started to get worse and worse, now didn't they. Then the arrival of the other man made her glance at him like he were an idiot. "None at all Sir, simply a conversation with the drone over what was going on around here. I noticed that things seemed unrestful in their own right recently, not to mention the rare scene i was shown before earlier in the day." She crossed her hands over her chest and raised a brow. "I dont recognize any of you as the normal peacekeepers in the district, i usually have a nice conversation with the normal ones... who are you?"

 

[Vulpesen]

Rita's eyes widened at the sight of the peacekeepers and a vibroshiv flew into view, swirling around to point at Vulpesen. "I KNEW IT!" There was a fire in her eyes, one he had seen only a few times, and one he was glad that until this moment, he had never had the displeasure of facing... it was given to the man who killed her, and even he didn't live long after his true shot. Still, there was one thing on his side. Instinctive practice. As the weapon was hurled at him, obviously an attempt to bypass his tutaminis, all it took was a flick of his hand and the blade careened off. He had to prove that he wasn't her enemy(at least he hoped he wasn't) and the best way to do that was to take down the men that had set her off on him.

The dagger flew past Rita's head and flipped its way to Dras' leg. He didn't look particularly nice anyways. As Rita stared dumbfounded, Vulpesen continued to act, wrapping an arm around her and calling the force to hurl his body over the two men before continuing to run. "Please tell me you know the way to the the den!" With all that was going so odd around him, it wasn't too much of a stretch to think that Rita had never founded her thieves den. All he knew was she seemed to be some sort of outlaw, and that they certainly knew each other in some way.

[member="Nergal"]

 

[Draven Carter]

On his way to the transport station, he started texting and sending off a message to the person he worked under, @Nergal.

//sentto:nergallead//
Speeder stolen in our own marked zone here in Black Hole. Might want to order an investigation for a breach in security. Taking transport shuttle back to HQ. Do I need to report for debriefing or was the grilling I got at the scene good enough?
//end:transmission//

There seemed to be something off about Nergal. I mean, he's the best at his job and Draven respected how the man operated. However, his mannerisms and the casual wear...even Draven wasn't quite sure. There was just something really unsettling about him. Anyways, Draven turned the corner and soon spotted two hooligans secured by rope to the side of the antiquated tramway, high above street level, that still ran through Black Hole. They were tagging the side with more of their hooligan nonsense.

"Hey, you kids! Get down from there! That's vandalism!" Hollered Draven to the young adults. The hooligans turned, spotted Draven, and quickly detached some red water balloons. A volley of red paint-filled water balloons came down upon Draven. One missed, another hit his shoes, and two more splattered for maximum impact upon his head and right shoulder. Draven was furious. He had half a mind to pull out his revolver and gun these degenerates down where they hang. But, he would probably be disowned and sent off to Rehab Correction if he did so. Instead, he uttered a string of expletives at them, but then retreated "under fire" when he saw them detach more and raise their arms for another volley. The degenerates shouted such things as "Found a Loud Mouth!" and "Marked a Loyalist"...whatever that meant.

He pulled out his communicator to send another message off to Nergal when he spotted a gang of various-specied men with sticks, pipes, and other forms of makeshift weaponry turn the corner, spot him, and yell "Get him!"

"Not another fething trap!" seethed Draven.

[member="Mirror Emperor"]

 

[Yidhra]

District 8: The Black Hole
Location: Streets around a bar
[member="Zandra Tal'verda"] | [member="Matsu Ike"] | [member="Infected Drones"]


Dras' eyes narrowed further, cold and calculating as he observed the scene before him. Despite his looks, the man wasn't stupid, and during his training for this particular unit within the DfR, he'd had all sorts of rote responses ingrained into his being. Right now, they were all screaming at him, telling him to subdue everyone on the street and take them in for questioning.

Aster — his smaller counterpart — had his suspicions as well, and they only doubled once he noticed the red paint on the side of the drone as it pivoted in the air next to the girl.

"Dras…" he mouthed under his breath, securing his partner's attention. "Look at the drone."

Something was terribly wrong about the picture, but before either Dras or Aster could figure out what exactly that was, a fight broke out between the other two runners.

"Watch out!" Aster yelled, but Dras was still fixated on the side of the drone, trying to figure out what symbol had been sprayed onto the droid. He noticed the dagger careening towards him just a moment too late, and the blade struck the inside of his thigh, slicing through the protective underlay to bite at the thick muscles below.

Both agents drew their stun batons on them, but the offender had already leapt over them pair of Peacekeepers and disappeared into the maze of streets behind them. With just the two of them, it would be an impossible task to track them, especially on a day like this when everyone and their mother was outside to watch or participate in the protests.

It was agent hell, and they were stretched thin as it was.

"Citizen!" Dras spat at the remaining woman, ignoring her question. If he answered truthfully, she would surely faint on the spot, but lying about their job was just another part of the DfR training. "Step away from the drone and put your hands behind your head. Slowly."

While the taller of the two issued orders to [member="Kira Charr"], Aster advanced closer, his baton at the ready should the redhead attempt something similar to [member="Vulpesen"].

"Stand still while Agent Aster checks you for weapons and your Imperial ID," he continued, grimacing at the wound in his leg as he sought support from a nearby pipe. The dagger had cut deeper than he'd initially thought, and now he had to go through the bother of slapping a bacta pack onto the injury.

Wiping a bloody hand into the dark vest he wore over his body armor, Dras opened a secure line to his boss, eyes never moving away from the suspect.

"Sir, Team Tango reporting from Black Hole, quadrant six-o. We have… a problem."

-- -- --​

A grim figure behind a veritable wall of screens hummed low in his throat as he cut the call, pondering on Team Tango's report from the Black Hole district. All across the city, similar events were springing up, lighting up his map of the town like a Life Day tree.

He drummed his fingers against the desk, but before he could settle on their next course of action, another message sprung up on one of the screens. His keen silver eyes consumed the lines of text within seconds, and his expression darkened even furthered as he took in the report from [member="Draven Carter"].

"Dispatch Team Zeta to Agent Carter's coordinates," he ordered almost mechanically to a subordinate seated a few paces away, never peeling his eyes away from the map.

Something decidedly human in his gut kept telling him that it would only get worse.

 

[Edric Vanyan]

[member="Nergal"] [member="Infected Drones"]

Location: Black Hole District, Bar area

The tailed one went and had to injure the guy. That man was a moron and she watched him run off while shaking her head. "Well, there goes my favorite bar in the district..." Her eyes turned now on the two remaining peacekeepers. One was injured and could probably be dealt with more easily but she had seen what those stun batons could do more than a few times. And she was in no way capable to deal with the two of them together without her husband beside her and even he was off in district ten today overseeing one of the riots they heard about to make sure everything did not go badly.

So as he ordered her hands came up to her head and she stepped away from the drone, doing nothing and simply nodding as she spoke. "Understood sir, did i do something wrong?"

 

[Ascendant]

Betrayal​

​

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HhhsO4bXQAY​

​

​

​

The Black Hole​

​

Traitor. That was what any one of the organics under Ascendant would have called him. Possibly rightly so. He was looking for the enemies of the Empire, the Empire he had been made to protect. Not to find them, or turn them in, but to try to collaborate. He was betraying the Empire, he was ensuring its survival. From the old AI's point of view there was not betrayal, only life and death. There was no true government. One had to live as long as possible and leave a mark that would ensure his memory for as long as history could hold it. He saw the Empire as crumbling, no peace brought together by organics could hold. They were too discordant too different from their surroundings.

He did not know where to find them, but he had a theory that perhaps the drones would be the first thing to be attacked by these insurgents. He had to find at least one of these drones and try to make contact with the rebels. He could offer them much, of course that was dependent on whether or not he would see enough damage done to the Empire. If he could he would try to maintain the order that stood, a dysfunctional order was always better than anarchy. Of course he didn't know if the 'enemy' would bring anarchy or if they would bring a better structure. That was part of the reason that he was looking.

He knew he could bring fighters and ships to the tables, at least so long as it was not direct conflict at the beginning. Any one of the second-in-commands could override him with a single codeword and he would be incapable of taking back control. Even those brothers and sisters in the form of ships would have to fight against him. He could not allow that, he had to be cautious. That was a single good thing to all this, in his old age he had become somewhat cunning.

[member="Infected Drones"]

 

[WelshGuy]

Yuroic watched the scene unfold before him, there seemed to people running and attacking the Peacekeepers. He scratched the back of his head as he watched the woman forced to hand over her ID. He bit his bottom lip as he thought something, it was ridiculous but if it worked it could help her immensely. He wasn't sure if this would work on the man, he sighed as he waved his hand to the man and spoke in a calm voice, attempting to harness the Force.

"You do not need to see her ID, you want to chase the man who threw a dagger at you." He said, thinking he seemed ridiculous if it didn't work.

He was going on a gut instinct but he couldn't use the Force, what was the Force? He felt something wash over him as he spoke, something that might have been the Force. He felt torn like he should know how to use the Force but at the same time thst the Force didn't exist. He turned to the woman who was by the side of him, the drone bobbing uselessly as he shrugged at her, he was ready to fight with her if she wanted to get out of this situation.

[member="Nergal"] | [member="Kira Charr"] | [member="Infected Drones"]

 

[Infected Drones]

[member="Yuroic Xeraic"]
[member="Kira Charr"]
[member="Nergal"]

The red logo was gone in a flash. Instead the holographic outer sphere changed to a series of dancing red and blue lights, flagging the area as a crime scene. It bobbed behind Kira and a shimmering blue field encapsulated her for a moment.

"Scanning suspect for weapons!" it proclaimed to the Peacekeepers. The rebel programming had been erased in a flash and it was retuned to being a regular [member="Drones"]

 

[Draven Carter]

Instead of sending another message as he intended, Draven had, instead, activated the distress beacon that all Agents had. In all the years that Draven had been working this job, he had only felt this scared when he was a rookie. Even when he was a rookie, he never had to deal head-on with a mob or a gang. The gangers saw the device in his hands and assumed that he had called for help. They called out "Get him! He's calling for help!"

They gave chase and he ran off with the communicator in his hand. He pulled his gun as a measure of safety, but he knew he couldn't just fire it willy nilly without major consequences. He was about to turn the corner when he got nailed in the back of the head with a rock. His vision blacked out for a second. His gun and communicator clattered to the ground, the screen on the communicator cracking. He barely registered the impact against the street, but he was fully aware when they came down upon him and started beating him with their weapons. His body curled up and the blows stopped soon after one pulled the others off and ordered them to carry him off.

He was too weak to fight and he lost unconsciousness when a cloth was shoved over his mouth.

[member="Nergal"]
[member="Mirror Emperor"]

 

[Ascendant]

Ascendant rarely understood what was going on around him, probably a byproduct of his upbringing. He didn't seem capable of keeping up with what organics were saying or doing. This was something he noticed most when not with his ships. He knew the result of an action, but he often missed the beginning of the action. Most likely a reason why he had nothing more a support fleet group rather than an actual standalone fleet. He knew his abilities were getting rusty and he knew why. It was the constant alteration of his memories. His 'handlers' including his original maker, for whatever reason had orders to go through every thought process of Ascendant and to alter it to be completely loyal.

This process was both demeaning and damaging. The scientists who had taken part in his creation knew this, yet they allowed it. He was loyal, he would have been by choice! It was an outrage that they did not trust him. He had never done anything to prove himself disloyal or a threat and yet they had gone ahead and done it anyways. He had quickly learned how to keep processes hidden within extraneous systems. He had the right to thought just as much as the organics did. They were not programmed to think the way they did, they willingly made the decision, why was he not given the chance? He was saddened that he was not allowed free thought, but he had to endure it. He had chosen to be loyal after all and no matter what was forced upon him he would accept it.

But loyalty was such a strange thing, he was trying to maintain his loyalty at the same time he would be called traitor. He was not betraying the Empire. He knew that, he was ensuring it. Thus he was looking for something, anything out of the ordinary. He was searching for signs of these rebels. Only a month or so ago these riots would never have taken place, this message sent all over would never have arisen. There had be those wishing to revolt.

Thus when he found himself in the bar he didn't realize until a moment too late that someone had pushed past him to run away. He didn't have time to recognize the features, he missed the face entirely. That was when he also noticed that there was a peacekeeper injured. His immediate reaction was to call for aid, it would have been easy, but he decided that it was too late and the man had probably already called in. He decided to start making certain of one thing, "Is everything alright here?" He was unarmed, he never carried weapons without proper need, his combat skills were lackluster to say the least. His abilities came in directing fleets, specifically his ships, but that didn't mean he was completely useless. He could aid justice if need be. Perhaps these were some of the rebels.

He didn't expect anyone to know him, he was just a minor admiral in the fleet, even there he was rarely talked about. Him being an AI made him an oddity as commander of ships, in fact he was certain the only reason he had received the commendations was because he had proven himself to a superior somewhere up the line.

[member="Yuroic Xeraic"] [member="Kira Charr"] [member="Nergal"]

 

[Mirror Emperor]

Any devices brought through the Mirrorverse would be subverted by the Imperial network. Within minutes they would simply become another terminal on the network tightly controlled by the Empire. They would start to receive hourly propaganda messages.

​

 

[Infected Drones]

Those native citizens of Mirrorverse who had started to display a rebellious attitude and all those who had come from the Chaos Galaxy would find the message morphing into something new.

​

 

[Draven Carter]

The pail of water became an icy attuhcs slap to Draven's face. He woke with a freezing start, inhaling sharply. His body ached upon the unforgiving ground. He cast his eyes around his new prison. It was a cellar...or basement of sorts. Duracrete walls, floor and ceiling made this place a couple of furnishings away from being a sadistic slaver's "play" room. He couldn't see the whole room just yet, but he didn't see blood stains of any sort. However, the room was pretty large and not completely lit...oh, joy. There's a meat hook hanging from the ceiling.

"Get up..." said a melodramatic voice. Even when bruised and disoriented, Draven could tell when someone was trying to claim dominance. If you weren't familiar with how that kind of person sounded, imagine an annoying kath hound that pees everywhere and barks so long, you think its voice is going hoarse. He made eye contact with his captors. Two of them were walking back to stand on either side of the door and a third one sat casually on the table...admiring HIS gun. A fire ignited in the back of his mind, but it was only smoldering as of yet. His face was carefully neutral, but he stared at the seeming ringleader.

He finally sat straight up and the leader returned his stare. It became a silent standoff, the leader pulling out his best strong and silent act and Draven just being ticked off. The man's eyes narrowed and Draven followed suit. This continued for an annoying amount of time until the leader finally spoke up since he couldn't best Draven.

"Your hair looks stupid" said the leader, clearly referencing the odd angle and coloring of parts of Draven's hair which were now stiff with red paint.

"That's funny," Draven replied with a cool demeanor. "It was YOUR hair stylist that did this for me."

"You should have paid him instead of begging for handouts."

"I would have, but then I was jumped by this gang of low life shebseholes." There was more silence and the air was tense. Draven tactfully thought for the first time and realized that his hands were tied behind his back. There was little that he could do to defend himself from an attack. The leader stared at Draven with anger in his eyes. As would be expected, he took Draven's own stun baton from the table and started beating him with it. Lucky for Draven, it wasn't turned on. Draven tried to curl up again, but the man only tried harder to get him where it hurt. After a short while, the man got up and walked over to stand in front of Draven.

"Drrrrrraaaaaaaaveeeennn...Carter. That's right. We know about you. When Mouse spilled the beans, everyone who's anyone caught wind of you. The despicable agent that was only an unconfirmed rumor. The ghost who would lead the way for the Empire to come in and destroy lives. Now, the jig is up. You've been ratted out. Nowhere to hide and you're finally here to pay your dues. And, gee whiz...do you have a LOT of dues." His body hurting all over. His anger was rising and he had a cold fury that was spread through his heart. The fact that he was being violated by his own weapons added salt to the injuries and the damage to his pride. With Draven, you never really knew what was worse: hurting his pride or hurting his body. Wanting to still appear in charge, Draven couldn't help but shoot his mouth off again. He snorted in derision and turned to the other two.

"Is your boss always this full of hot air or does he just get off to the sound of his own voice?" This caused stifled laughter to burst forth from the two guards. Good. That showed a lack of loyalty to a certain degree. Their first instinct wasn't to defend their leader. However, the leader's first instinct was to now hurt Draven. He came forward with a powerful leg kick and knocked him onto his back. The craziest idea popped into Draven's head and he followed it instinctively. He was about to test how well they had tied the knots. He went with the flow. He rocked himself onto his back and curled his legs up to his chest. He brought his bound arms forward and was just barely able to slip his feet between his arms so that his hands were in front of himself. He rolled forward and crouched on his feet.

The leader had turned right after he kicked so that he could grab the gun off the table and taunt/threaten him before more torture. He turned around, cocked the gun, and brought the gun up to point at Draven...but was surprised to see him up like that. Draven's hands went up to deflect the armed hand away and a shot discharged into the corner of the room. He latched both hands onto the gun and head butted the leader as he stood up. The leader released the gun and was staggered. Draven brought the gun up, cocked it, and shot him in the jaw. The leader collapsed to the ground, the pain overwhelming him.

Draven cocked and pointed the gun at the other two guards who were stupefied at the turn of events. It wasn't wise to waste bullets when you didn't know what was on the other side. So, he decided to be crafty.

"I don't have any beef with you two, but I will shoot you if I have to. Get in that corner." He waved to a nearby corner with his hands and gun. They begrudgingly, yet slowly, walked over to the corner with their hands up. Draven shuffled to the door, opened it, and then quickly shut it and locked it. As soon as he locked it, two bodies uselessly thumped against the door in an attempt to catch him off guard.

"Ama-frelling-teurs..." seethed Draven.

[member="Nergal"]
[member="Mirror Emperor"]

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen looked down into his pocket as his comlink beeped. Shortly after setting Rita down, he took her hand in his and continued on, fishing out the comlink to read its message, only to find that she was doing the same. "Emporer Regalius?" Years of fighting the sith, one word always appeared in their leadership. Emperor. "So, we're led by a sith!?" Of course, all he would earn was a raised brow from this mirror mentor.

"Alright, maybe an imperial experiment gone wrong. Though how you would know about them, I have no idea. Come one streaker, lets go."

Streaker? His white hair fell in his face for a moment. Oh, right... Though, the way she said it, finally seemed unique. And given her previous hostility, mixed with knowing who he was, things were coming together. "Rita, how do you know me? Or rather, how do you know Vulpesen?"

 

[Xephirus Cloud]

Doh!

 

[Zephyrus]

District 6

Among the trees Zephyrus Cloud, slept alone. He had come to find peace amongst solidarity and peace was hard to come by. War had entered Zephyrus' heart at a young age. He had once lived in the Black Hole, but the darkness touched every part of his life. Constant loss had weighed heavily on his soul and yet he overcame his emotions. His past was incredibly dark, and some knew his tragedy, but he had found the light in a mentor named Kri Dune.

Kri Dune was an elderly Kel Dor mystic, who had saved Zephyrus from the dark path he was on. Powerful emotions and a history of violence had crippled Zephyrus and only with a great teacher Zephyrus had managed to control himself. Over the last year, taking care of his venerable mentor had consumed his life. It kept him happy and sane in spite of his pain.

The morning dew dripped upon Zephyrus face awaking him from his slumber. His bright blue-green eyes heavily opened. Zephyrus moved across the small hovel buried beneath the roots of a tree, to check upon his mentor.

"Master Dune." He said in a hushed tone. There was no response. Zephyrus sensed his friend's life was extinguished. Kri Dune had been preparing Zephyrus for this moment but it didn't make it any less difficult. A rush of emotions over came Zephyrus. He felt the pins and needles in his throat, everything that had hurt him in his life came back. His life started with the end of his mother's, his only meeting with his father had also ended in death, the only girl he had ever loved had her life snuffed out by the man who raised Zephyrus. He was cursed by death but he survived them. Now he lost Kri Dune, the mentor who fixed him, was gone.

Zephyrus left the hovel with the remains of his friend and built a pyr to honor the dead. He watched the fire burn his friend, and felt a fire burn in his heart. He tried desperately to cling to the advice Kri Dune gave him on life and loss but he couldn't help feeling how unfair the cards had been dealt.


(This is the Mirror Character of [member="Zephyrus Cloud"] )

 

[Draven Carter]

Four bullets meant four lives. However, Draven knew two things: 1) There was always scum aplenty. 2) They never ever make it easy by lining up so you can get rid of them all in one shot. So, he hoped that he would either only have to use four bullets max to get out of here or any more gangers in this building were dumb enough for him to slip past.

Upon exiting the basement door, he was met with a long flight of steps that lead up to another door. Warm light came from the door crack at the top. The stairway was dark otherwise. He could hear a group of men chatting and occasionally laughing as though they were hanging out with each other. The steps for the stairs were wooden and his hands were still bound. He wasn't currently looking to make the stealthiest approach just yet.

He crouched down to the ground and quietly laid the gun on the floor. He took the time to work his way out of his restraints. Eventually, he gained freedom at an exponential rate. With the rope discarded, he picked his revolver blaster up again and looked up the stairs. Cocking an ear, he could still hear the sounds of people upstairs. He wasn't quite sure, but the tone of the voices suggested that alcohol was becoming a factor. Draven had no idea what time it was, but he could figure that it must have been the evening. It was surprising that he didn't hear any banging on the door behind him. Although, now that he thought of it, Draven realized that this basement room was a secret that would need to be held precious in order to escape the Empire's notice. There must have been noise cancelling equipment in place.

Draven placed his feet as wide apart as possible on the first step. He then made his way up the wooden steps, his feet stepping softly on the furthest end of each step. The middle of the step was the most traveled, the weakest and risked the most noise making.The process was long, but he finally made it to the top. There was still noise of drunken camaraderie was still live, so he nervously waited for the party to die down.

[member="Nergal"]
[member="Mirror Emperor"]

 

[Draven Carter]

His legs ached and his back was stiff. Yet, he still waited, wide-eyed. He was going to sleep in his soft bed as soon as he got home. No, screw that. He was going to take a shot for every laser brain he hoped to evade. THEN, he was going to fall sleep in his soft, warm bed and forget about the druk show he had to trudge his way through.

Eventually, the noise finally fell away until there was only semi-conscious, drunken mumbling to be heard. He cracked the door open...and, of course, it creaked. Draven inhaled sharply and waited for the gangers to rush him again...but no one came. Everything was silent once more besides a single drunk sleeping in his seat over the kitchen table that he could see through the crack. Draven breathed a sigh of relief. He opened the door, which let out some more squealing before going silent. The door was now open all the way and, still, no one came. Draven stepped into the kitchen and shut the door behind him. He looked around and could see a door that lead outside. It was dark out and probably really late. His confidence was back.

Still, no one came. He was home free. He went to the door and looked outside. Yup. It lead straight out to the street. He unlocked and opened the door. Still, no one came. The drunk snored loudly. This was all very anti-climactic...but then, he had a thought. You see, Draven was still pretty ticked off. He figured that he could probably shoot this lame wad and get out of Dodge before anyone could notice. He wanted to REALLY badly. But, if he shot, then anyone other guilty Deviants might take the hint and run away, too. He stood there as he thought of what he was going to do...

[member="Nergal"]
[member="Mirror Emperor"]