Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Westeria City: An Cupla

Tiko

Draconic Administrator/Mentor
Administrator
Mentor
Nexus GM
as written by Saarai

With all of the chaos it was easy for Veronica to trek across the city with Shelly and a few of her men. "Where are we?" Veronica asked, looking to Shelly for an answer as they passed An Cupla's signature statues.

The streets were dead, everyone had holed up in their basements hoping to avoid what was happening to the rest of their city. It was almost unsettling.

"No one is here. We can get picked up now." Veronica told her people, "Make the call."
 
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as written by Tiko

Shelly had little intention of assisting Veronica, and she remained stoically and unhelpfully silent as Veronica asked into there whereabouts.

It seemed unlikely that she would get a second opening to give Veronica the slip. They were too far removed from the HQ where the TAF and NPA would be congregating, and with evacuations underway and the general chaos that the city had been thrown into, no one would likely even know she was missing for hours yet.

The thought was a sobering one and she spent her time silently listening in on the thoughts of the people around her - Veronica in particular.
 
as written by Saarai

"This is Samson, zero in on our position. We went north, I think. Look for the two big statues." Samson said, glancing around again at the empty streets. "This is nuts." He muttered, even in times like this people usually were on the streets trying to at least get off of the streets.

"Let's move." Veronica ordered, pulling Shelly along as she walked further into the Irish neighborhood.

"He-!" Came the near shout from one of Veronica's men, prompting her and the others to turn. He was gone. She looked around again, this time searching for something. Anything.

The quick glimpse of eyes watching them from a barely open manhole was enough. Whatever was happening in the city had awakened or emboldened whatever lived beneath it. The stories might have been true, things did leave in the sewers.

"Weapons ready." Veronica said, drawing a small pistol from her waist. She held it out for Shelly to take, "You too. I don't think whatever is here is friend to you either. You deserve a chance to save yourself."

"We're low on ammo. Fire wisely." Samson added, raising his rifle at a manhole.

"We wait."
 
as written by Calcos

It was a hellish day in Westeria, and plenty of people were taking advantage of that fact; especially the unscrupulous types in An Cupla. This was never a safe neighborhood, even during periods when the city wasn't being blown to hell by several different doomsday weapons and monsters of the apocalypse. Still, despite all the otherworldly danger that ripped through the streets mere blocks away, people were still wreaking their own havoc, taking what chances they had whilst the authorities' backs were turned to commit crime with impunity.

Rafael thought to correct that way of thinking, taking his baseball bat in hand and prowling the streets, donning a set of old clothes and a black balaclava. It wasn't long until the sounds of screaming caught his attention, as he darted his eyes to the origin of the noise, seeing a woman being dragged from her home by a group of four laughing Irishmen. One of them held her arms in place while the second guy attempted to remove articles of her clothing. The others had just exited the apartment complex carrying an assortment of valuables. Rafael made his way over to them, stepping hurriedly as the two looters descended the stoop leading to the street. One of them turned around to gawk at what his friends were doing, joining them in a laugh as they attempted to rape the young woman.

The other looter was busy stashing the goods into a truck's bed, looking up just in time to call out for his friend, all too late as a baseball bat crashed into the back of his skull, flooring him instantly, blood pooling from the nasty gash left in the wake of the blow. Bat in one hand, Rafael stared hatred into the forms of the three remaining punks, the two on the stoop having dropped the girl, rushing towards their friend's attacker.

With a quickness, Rafael buried the top of his weapon in one man's gut, while simultaneously stomping down into the other guy's shin with his left foot, causing the thug to stumble, opening him up to an under-the-jaw strike with Rafael's bat as he whipped the blunt instrument around, putting a second cretin permanently out of commission, knocking loose some teeth in the process.

He smiled as the one to his right raised his fists, seemingly ready to duke it out. Rafael raised his bat, ready to strike, when suddenly he felt himself falling forward; he'd completely neglected the looting thug by the truck, who had just rammed a charging shoulder into his back, making the young vigilante eat hard asphalt in mere seconds. The two muggers took the opportunity to wail on Rafael with a flurry of kicks, aiming to keep him pinned down.

The Hispanic young man wouldn't be so easily defeated, however, as one well-placed groin kick sent one of the two reeling, removing themselves from the gang-up, allowing Rafael to repel the incoming blows of the remaining man with his bat, before getting in a shin strike with his bat, causing the Irish whelp to hit his ass, screaming as he cradled his injured leg. Standing, panting, Rafael turned and clubbed the man into silence, blood reaching up and staining the vigilante's clothes.

It was then that he'd noticed the remaining punk had regained his composure, aiming a gun at the kid who had just fucked up their plans. "Ye got a death wish, aye?" he asked. Rafael made no noise, didn't smile. He merely held up a hand, aiming his palm at the Irish prick.

"The fook you doin' ye loony shit? D' ya know what yer- AHHHH! AHHHHHHHHH!" He howled in agony, dropping his weapon to the ground as the realization that he had been hit with a ball of fire settled in. Like an idiot, he ran around in circles, until he eventually made his way down the street before tripping and hitting the ground. He continued to writhe in pain as his body was engulfed in the roaring flames bestowed upon him by the very loon that had just killed his partners.

Looking back, Rafael noticed the girl staring at him, her mascara running down her face, eyes wide in horror. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words emanated. She merely closed her parted lips and nodded curtly. 'Thank you,' it said.

Rafael nodded in return, walking away without so much as a smile across his face.
 
as written by Saarai

Seamus drove his new sedan down the streets of An Cupla, he and his people ready to protect the area from outside forces who would do it harm. Sometimes the Casey Mob could be violent, but not towards their own. The affiliates? Not so much.

It was no surprise that Seamus began to speed when he got a text telling him that the Irish Kings, a gang that sold drugs for the Caseys and the Russians, were causing trouble.

"What is it?" One of Seamus' men asked, "The Kings again, Rory. They get too... Too..." Seamus searched for the word, "Stupid and violent." Rory finished.

"Aye." Seamus said as he slowed his car down where the Kings were spotted. And then spotted them himself, all dead. One of them burned to a crisp. A few people had gathered, calling friends and family to let them know what happened.

All eyes were on the Casey mobsters when they came to a stop. "What happened?" Rory asked, "Someone took out the Kings tryin' ta' take this girl's, uh..." A man answered, gesturing over to the shaken young woman.

"We thought it was one o' your people. But, this lad wasn't a normal hardman." Another said, "Aye. Look, put the word out ta' the Kings that this here will keep happening to them if they keep fuckin' around." Seamus said.

"This is bad publicity. Especially after Skinny George tried ta' fuck that chink Invictus bitch downtown." Rory said to Seamus.

He nodded in response, driving the sedan away from the gruesome scene. "We need ta' send a message to the smaller mobs, Shea. Like we send to the Triads and the GSN."

"Aye. I'll put Liam on it."
 
as written by Tiko

Shelly's first impulse was to put a bullet in Veronica's head right then and there, but hesitation stayed such thoughts. Firstly, shooting Veronica hadn't proven particularly effective previously, and secondly, something was very wrong.

Her psychic readings were on the fritz with so much going on around her, but she swept the area trying to get a feel for how many people were in the area. What she found there beneath there feet was was...

"We need to go, now," she spoke up.
 
as written by Saarai

Veronica was nervous, she didn't show it on the outside but someone with Shelly's ability could tell. The woman, despite her fortitude, couldn't help but feel the way she did when dealing with unknown factors.

People were predictable, animals could be studied.

Monsters just sprang up sometimes from dark places no one ever wanted to go.

"Move! We'll find shelter." Veronica said, taking the lead as she ran off. Almost as soon as she started moving the creatures revealed themselves, piling out of the sewers from manholes.

They were large rat-like creatures, roughly the size of a big dog. They were fast and seemed intent on getting their meal. One of them pounced in an attempt to attack Veronica, the woman ducking and rolling away.
 
"I'm just sayin', some of them Aschen come this way and I'll send 'em back to New Caprica with me boot in their arse." Gene boasted to his friends.

They stood on a busy An Cupla street, having secured much of the neighborhood with the help of their Russian allies and good Samaritans.

Gene was shorter young man, thin, his hair shaven down and sporting the typical skinhead look. He was also a soldier for the Casey Mob.

Westeria had gone to shit, but that didn't stop them from trying to corner the drug market in the city. It made it easier.

"She's coming!" Someone could be heard shouting, "Off the streets!"

"Fuckin' hell. Alright, let's move." Gene ordered, he and his friends rushing to pile into an abandoned store. "I hate this shit." One of the men in the store said.

"I know, but the alternative ain't all that better, innit?" Gene asked his comrade, "On second thought, I love this shit." The man answered.

The street was empty now. No sign of life except the warm cigarettes and seats left behind.

That was until a woman dressed in dark blue fatigues and black armor began walking down the road. With her she carried several duffel bags bursting with food, water, and even clothing.

She was a more well-equipped looter.

Gene moved to get a good look at her from the store. She was a little tall, long blonde hair, and green eyes. She didn't so much as a frown, or smile, she just walked. Not oblivious, she just didn't care.

It wasn't long until she rounded a corner, disappearing from sight. "It's safe." Gene said, "But, uh, let's give it some time."

The woman, Veronica, made her way into what used to be a restaurant. Similarly dressed men and women waiting for her on the inside, all of them heavily armed.

"Rations. Feed our prisoner." She ordered, "Then, try to establish contact with Hannibal. I'm getting tired of this place."
 
Shelly shivered uncontrollable within the confines of the walk-in freezer, and she hardly felt her fingers anymore that were exposed to the cold with her hands bound. She did her best to keep them tucked close, but there was no shelter nor warmth to offer any relief. At first the freezer had offered her undisturbed solitude by which to glean information from the thoughts of those nearby, but as the cold gnawed at her exposed skin and hypothermia set in her thoughts had grown sluggish and muddled. She caught bits here and there, but her capacity to concentrate to follow streams of conscious thoughts from those nearby had been greatly diminished.

What information she had gleaned was unsetttling in itself. The WCPD shattered, Thaddeus dead? The TNG gone? There would be no one to come look for her, none to know she was even alive. No doubt she was presumed dead in the wreckage of the NPA HQ.

She hadn't any idea how long she had been there, nor how long they intended to keep her there. Her capacity to tell the passing of the time had been greatly diminished by her decline in cognitive functions. These were hindered further by her fear of falling asleep and not waking again from the cold which kept her thoroughly sleep deprived as she struggled to keep her eyes open until the brief periods of time in which they took her out to allow her to warm up enough to keep her alive.

Another bone aching shiver shook her as she huddled in the corner, her face buried against her knees to protect her nose and cheeks from frost bite.

Outside she heard voices. Food. She was far too cold to think about food, but the gust of warm air that would come with the opening of the freezer door would be a fleeting moment of bliss.
 
"Feeding time." One of Shelly's captors said as he opened the freezer door. He approached Shelly slowly, reaching to grab her by the arm and lift her to her feet.

He would guide her out into the restaurant, bringing her to a table covered with what wasn't the most luxurious meal. It was better than nothing.

Cereal, bread, all of the basics. Enough to keep Shelly fed and alive, at least until they didn't need her.

"Any luck?" The man asked his colleagues as gestured for Shelly to sit, "Not yet. We're getting no signal. We need to get out of this place and find somewhere more secure." Another of the terrorists answered.

Veronica came to sit at Shelly's table, "Any suggestions?" She asked, grabbing a spoonful of cereal, intent on feeding Shelly herself to make sure her hands remained bound.
 
Silence.

It was what Shelly found herself surrounded by. At least in a sense of the word. She could hear them talking and conversing among one another, but the surface thoughts that often overlay such verbal words remained little more than a distant buzz that she couldn't quite seem to focus coherently upon.

What intel she might have been able to glean from the group during her captivity had largely been robbed of her once hypothermia set in.

"Cut me loose," was her answer to Veronica's question. "I'm just dead weight to you. Whatever plans you had, they're of no use to you anymore. Even in that box you keep me in, I know that the TNG has abandoned this place. The people here. Me. You'll get no leverage holding me. If you had any sense you would let me go and get as far away from this place as possible."
 
"You're not leverage." Veronica told Shelly matter-of-factly, "Eat." She said to her, inching the cereal closer to Shelly's mouth. "We need you to stay with us long enough to finish the mission." The terrorist continued.

"I ask you again, any suggestions on how we get some power? Something, or someplace, that won't draw too much attention?" She asked, "Be helpful."
 
Shelly deliberated a moment longer before answering. If it would keep her out of the damn freezer a time longer, she would entertain the woman.

"Most of the big warehouses will have already been looted of generators. But people may have been less inclined to searching out places with generators already installed. Places people may not think to look. Hospitals will have been hit, but what about data centers, factories?"
 
"Those Aschen corporations left in a hurry. That side of town was all but deserted last we checked." One of the terrorists said to Veronica.

She nodded, dropping the spoon on the table. "Go there, check the Tech Content facilities for intact power sources." Veronica ordered.
 
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