DOUBLE POST!!!
SORRY I DIDNT MEAN TO!!!

This post has been edited by iliketoblowzombieheadsoff on October 12, 2006 03:58 am

Duncan "Scotty" Wallace

The patter of Scottys boots on the asphalt echoed through the narrow back street. The two tall buildings he was running by restricted enough light ensued squinting eyes from Scotty who was staring at the other side of the alley that lead to the main road. With only twenty meters or so left, a black kid with a black t-shirt and black bandana concealing his face popped out around the corner by the main road expecting his arrival. Scotty abruptly stopped in his tracks and eyed the young man, noticing that he looked to be part of The Crips, which is a poor excuse for a gang in Scottys opinion. With a sub-machinegun pointed at him, Scotty ducked behind a large, dirty, green garbage container. A couple of silenced gunshots reverberated through the side street and the bullets punched into the metal container. Scotty withdrew his black, finger-less gloves and pulled them onto his hands. He waited for the clicking of the UZI and revealed himself quickly, pulling back his coat. Scotty grabbed for both his handguns and briskly made his way towards the gang member.

With both handguns raised, he clicked the safety off both and fired the guns simultaneously at the direction of the Crip member. The first couple of bullets flew past the man, but the rest were dead on. The mans body spasmed as each shot flew into his chest and ligaments. With arms convulsing, his body fell to the polluted pavement. Scotty slipped one handgun to its holster and kept the other one trained on the mans head. He inched closer to the man and saw his breathing becoming rapid, each heartbeat straining for more blood. Scotty kicked the mans gun away from him and holstered his own back behind the flap of the coat.

Were you sending me my regards from some pathetic gang lord? Christ, a paraplegic could have done a better job, Scotty said before moving his left leg over the man and made his way out to the open. He took off the gloves and placed them back in his coat pockets. Scotty shifted his right hand above his eyes to shield them from the light.

The sun was beginning to set, and realizing this, he made his way down the empty road towards his home.

***

Upon opening his apartment room door, he was greeted with the puff of the A/C kicking on. Scotty walked inside and closed the door behind him. The dim lights turned on revealing a clean and tidy room. Part of a wall opened to take his coat off before he emptied out the gloves. The wall closed up as the retractable coat hanger slid back in. Scotty took off his boots and removed his shirt, where he tossed it onto his made bed. Scotty scratched his groin a bit before making his way to the closet. He opened it slowly and scanned the tight area before letting his eyes fall past the clothes and onto the thick safe. Scotty bent down and punched in a combination, each soft beep relaxing his nerves. A loud mechanical click signaled the correct combination, and the door swung open lightly.

Scotty reached in and grabbed his folded G42 and stood back up. He pulled the buttstock out and leveled the gun against his toned body. He sat down on the bed and rubbed his hand lightly against the metal, feeling the power it held. He smiled inwardly, ready for any gang member to try and get him.

This post has been edited by -=Chris Redfield=- on October 12, 2006 06:23 am

It may be a sorry ass gang, but they still have submachine guns. And since they suck, I don't think they bought those by themselves. I sense secret funding going on here.

This post has been edited by Security Corporate on October 13, 2006 12:37 am

Hell, even in real life The Bloods and The Crips are the douchiest gangs. Killing people with box cutters?! Gay...

Another thing, it seems everyone thinks all gang members just stand there like a complete moron and shoots expecting to hit something fleshy. That's an exaggeration. Many gangs take some serious cover, more than you guys think.

Oh I know. However, I don't like to give them that much credit. Fighting over poverty-ridden turf? Oh yeah, real motivation right there. If you wanted a safe neighborhood, move...

hmmnmmm... i surely dont know what to do round here..

Do i pop up, all of a sudden whenever i want to and add to the topic?? Yessss???

I pretty much did whatever, so...yeah. More people should join or else this is going to fail (if it hasn't already).

Henrik "Viking" Kowalski

"Shit, Shit shit!" Henrik's voice was drowned out by gunfire.

Large caliber bullets whooshed past his cover behind a heap of crates. Dangerously many of them smashed into the wooden heap, sending bits and pieces flying. Once or twice he could almost feel the heat of a bullet against his clothes, tearing holes in the dark green body suit.

He fumbled around in his pockets, grasping a small pistol. Trembling, he unholstered it, and pulled the slide back. A shiny round ejected, clattering on the asphalt.

-----

It had been midday when Henrik Kowalski had entered the York Ghetto. He should have known better. But at that time of day, the government still had some power in the streets, and there were plenty of security officials patrolling. He always felt safe in the presence of the armed Urban Cops. Sure, they could be brutal, but as long as you didn't tick them off they usually left you alone.


He had probably lingered too long at the diner, or fumbled a bit too much in the alleyways. But by the time he was trying to get out of York, it was becoming dark. The gangs had appeared from their homes. Every single official who preferred living had gone. And, he noticed, so had everyone else.

His green NelTech suit was like a neon sign screaming that he was better than everyone in the York Ghetto. The gangs living here nursed an intense hate for the multinational companies, the government, and anyone entering their turf.

He was stumbling in near-total darkness through a narrow alley, when he felt something ice cold pressed aginst the back of his head. Moments later he heard the silent, but somehow deafing sound of a safety being flicked off.

"Whatcha doing here, green?" someone asked him. He sounded uninterested by the whole situation, but probably couldn't help looking forward to paint the wall with brain matter.

"Noth-nothing, I was just leaving, I got lost and c-couldn't find the wa-"

Crack-

The alley had been dark, but now it lit up in bright red. Black dots danced across his eyes. Crack. The pistol swung again, hitting him in the temple.

"You got lust in the wrong fucking place, green! You see-"

A furious kick emptied the air in his lungs, making Henrik gasp desperately to regain his breath.

"-no one leaves here after dusk without us telling them to. But we'll let you leave, don't worry."

Through the dots and stars he could vaguely see a figure above him aiming a gun at his head.

"In a body bag."

Kowalski's left hand found a pocket in his vest, clasped the grip of a Sli-blade. Held the thumb at the identificator just long enough to confirm his identity. When it activated with a slow hum he thrusted the blade at the assailant. The dull green beam of condensed energy cut straight through the fingers of the hand holding the gun. The thug screamed out in pain, waving his crippled arm in the air. Henrik slowly crawled away, leaving the blade humming on the ground at the feet of the thug.


---

They had stopped firing. He heard clicks from magazines being ejected, shells being forced into guns. Footsteps of several people closing in.

"Come on...don't you fail on me now...."
Gripping the pistol with whitening knuckles he crawled over to the side of his cover. Sunrays from a setting sun made the silver handgun shine, engraving the H&K logo in light.

He took a crouched position, poping over the crates. A mountain of a man, wearing all black clothes, was in the middle of his sights. The eyes opened in shock, not expecting his prey to put up a fight. A short burst from the pistol sent three bullets into his chest. As the giant hit the ground so did Kowalski, under a hail of bullets.

In the distance a long burst from a machine gun, then from a handgun, halted the other gang members. They stopped, looked at each other, and ran away. But first one of them fired at the crates, screaming "we're not done with you, you son of a bitch!"

In a twist of fate a stray bullet ricocheted into Henrik's leg. Leaning his back towards the crates, he passed out, covered in blood, filings and wood splinters.




It became pretty long, it seems :\ but it's fun. And as you might notice, it's connected with Chris Redfield's character.

This post has been edited by Elite viking on October 14, 2006 02:23 am

can i still be added

name: Michael Lee
occupation: mall security guard
weapon: nightstick pepper spray(lol) and bare fists

can u like try make it so u find me and someone gives me a gun and i pawn zombies lol!!!

yeah start a new one...

YEAH, PLEASE START A NEW ONE, TAKING PLACE IN A CITY, EXPECTING MILITARY TO RESCUE, PLEASE!

edit:dont forget jailsmen killing anyone they see!!

This post has been edited by iliketoblowzombieheadsoff on October 15, 2006 11:47 am

I don't want to clog up David's own topic with my own, since that is pretty rude. However, I do have ideas flying through my head right now with a new RP. I don't want to give anything away, but it should be pretty nifty.

Sorry, been busy, and iliketoblowzombiesheadsoff, there isnt arank called high calss, choose a rank or I will choose one for you and put you in my next part of the story after this. (BTW, this is now first person on David for me)

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I was walking out of the building when I heard a large BOOM and I whipped around, instinctively pulling out my rifle and cocking it. I looked around then saw it, the eastern wing of the base had been blown up, I sprinted there as fast as I could and ran into the fire, putting up my Personal Shield (A little harness type thing that generates a sheild around you, not letting anything that isnt literally alive, or that is a bullet in) I continued looking and saw it. The General was laying on the floor, coughing blood, I put my PS on him and picked him upand ran out and called for a medic. I started to take off his shirt and I noticed he had some skin missing on his neck, like he had been bitten.
I said, "General, talk to me general!" He looked up and said, "Major General Sanchez, I promote you to General..... you must take my place...." Then he spit up sdome blood and was gone. I took off the PS and put it back on and pulled out my knife and stabbed him in the head just incase he was bitten by something like the engineer on the plane.
He ran back into the fire and then he saw it, it looked like the engineer, it was pale, grey and had a deathly look in its eyes. I ran over to it, reaching through the PS and grabbed it by the head and pulled it off the ground. After picking him up I started to punch him in the stomach continuosly and then I squished his head with the hand I picked him up with. I looked around and saw a Private with a prototype PS. Flames licked at him and he had alot of burn marks, probably because of the old PS it was flickering too so I ran over and traded his PPS (prototype personal shield) with my PS and then I grabbed him and we ran out then I got back my PSS and ran back in then searched for any other survivors and jsut found dead bodies, or people coughing up blood. I got out and went to the Private and asked who he was, why he had a PPS and what happened to the building.

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Hope you likwe it, if I get some feedback I will write more.