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  #1  
Unread 11th of April, 2010, 23:28
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Heroic Legacies- Main RP Topic

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Unread 18th of April, 2010, 15:32
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"You've been reading too many comics."

Corran frowned. "I still think it's a good idea."

Lydecker leaned forward, resting his elbows on the wood surface as he brought his hands together. "Look, it's a nice idea. It even makes sense."

"But?"

"But it's so stereotypical people will shoot it down."

Corran sighed plaintively. "There's enough of us to pull this off."

Lydecker laughed, smiling as he brought his forehead to meet his hands. "Corran, we're not the types to go around recruiting people. It's never been a good idea. We've avoided the government and the criminals by just being friendly with the other Realized running around. What's so special about new blood anyways?"

The Surge was everything. Corran knew it. It couldn't just be random, right? "How long before things go to hell here? The Surge has already shaken everything, what with people scaring 747 passengers up in the stratosphere. The cops have been going nuts."

Lydecker sighed. He was slipping down the slippery, slippery slope to accepting what Corran suggested. "And the cops get paid to do that."

"Ha, funny. We can do something besides sneak into women's locker rooms and move shit with our minds."

"You know I don't do that sneaking stuff anymore." Lydecker grumbled. "Not after Helen."

"All I'm saying is that we give some direction to these flooders, some instruction, and then let them loose to do some good. It's not a school, it's not a team, it's just us playing mentors." Corran pushed. "Seriously, look how well Kyle has done, even with the Surge."

Kyle had done very well. Lydecker couldn't deny that. "Fine, I'm in. But we're not going to be able to do this alone."

Corran smirked. "I'll talk to Animus."

---
"Evolution as an idea has been controversial." Mr. Matthews droned on. "The idea of intelligent design has been a mainstay argument against evolution, prompting such cases as the Scopes Monkey Trial."

Kyle was having problems paying attention. His mind was wandering. As his mind wandered, his awareness moved out of his body. It slowly drifted out, lazily drifting throughout the classroom, then outside. Feeding sensory information to the teen, Kyle's projected awareness traversed the school grounds, floating high above the ground.

"It is questioned if humans may evolve someday into beings much more capable than we are today. This capability could range from Olympian becoming ordinary- or for ordinary to become extraordinary. Nietzsche's idea of the ‹bermenschspeaks even to this question today." Kyle barely heard Mr. Matthew's words.

An elbow connected with Kyle's ribs. "Listen!" Lucy hissed under her breath. Kyle shook his head groggily, his senses taking a few moments to return to him.

She sat next to him, listening intently. Kyle's attention focused, then slowly started drifting again.

Strange... who's that on the roof over there?" Kyle's awareness passed over the figure, and something felt strange. Vaguely man-shaped, Kyle's senses only detected a watery distortion, almost like the heat-ripples above a grill.

As Kyle's curiosity was about to overwhelm the resistance he felt from the distortion, a window shattered and a loud crack echoed through the area.

Kyle shook his head as more shots rang out. His senses returning, he looked around wildly. First he noticed the blood. Classmates were bleeding, screaming, crying.

Then, a split second, he had clarity. His mind raced out again, seeking the distortion. But it was gone.

"Out of the classroom! Now!" Mr. Matthews roared. Kids scrambled to get up, running in panic for the door, but Kyle hesitated.

One of them wasn't breathing, a terrible hole tore through their throat. Another clutched at their leg, rocking back in forth grimacing in pain. Another slumped in his seat, his head rolling at a strange angle.

And Lucy's chest was a growing pool of blood.

"I told you to get out!" Mr. Matthews shook Kyle.

Kyle pushed the teacher away. "I'm helping."

Mr. Matthews looked conflicted for a moment, and Kyle noticed that he was sweating profusely, and trembling. "Fine."

The teacher put his palm up against Kyle's head, and suddenly knowledge about first aid poured into the youth's brain.

Something was holding back the information, Kyle noticed. His mind probed the stream of information, finding the dam that was tightening the flow, restricting what information he was receiving. Kyle gathered a small bit of power, smashing through the barricade. What was held back inundated through the information he'd already assimilated, augmenting and supporting, redefining and explaining first aid for one with super powers.

Most Empowered with healing find that they cannot harbor malicious thoughts during the act of healing another. The link between emotion and power is great, and one's care and concern fuels the restorative abilities to help another.

Mr. Matthews was stunned, blinking rapidly and staring at Kyle. But Kyle was already moving to Lucy. Kneeling over her, he tried to focus.

"Stop. We need access to the wound." Mr. Matthews had regained his composure.

Kyle looked down at his classmate. He hesitated for an instant before disregarding her modesty. Pulling open her torn shirt, he placed a hand directly over the wound. The blood was warm and sticky to the touch, and Kyle fought the urge to shake his hands, screaming.

The energy moved slowly at first, a groaning stone, barely rotating. As it tumbled, it picked up more energy, Kyle snowballing it from within, then through his arm straight into Lucy's chest.

Her body went into spasms, limbs shaking, back arching as the energy started to repair the damage done, knitting and reforming what the bullet had destroyed.

Mr. Matthews caught Kyle as he collapsed. "WHERE THE HELL IS 9-11?" He shouted.
---

Last edited by ShatteredUniverse; 18th of April, 2010 at 15:35.
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Unread 19th of April, 2010, 19:52
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Francis was at the office when the news came in. Big shooting at a school!

Immediately the boss was shouting: "Get a film crew to that school, do it pronto. It's only 15 minutes from here. There was one class where people were shot; I want full coverage of that classroom and as many interviews as you can get. Francis, you go with the van; set up a radio link as soon as possible. George, you go for the teacher, get him on camera. Phyllis, Roy and Travis, go after the students, their parents or their friends. Whomever you can get to talk. Get their stories, get their emotions. We want fear, sorrow, confusion. And big heroes, of course. Go, go, go."

Francis was running for her equipment. The camera's were always in the van. But the radio's, the transmitters, the highly sensitive monitoring devices, they were too valuable to leave in the van. Insurance company said they had to be kept at the office. So here she was, hauling a big heavy trunk to the elevator.
There was one good thing about this, however: this was how she discovered her power, a week ago. After a long day, she was completely worn out with carrying the trunk. Then she was wishing it would float before her. But of course, it didn't. She got very angry about the unfairness of it all and vented her anger with a mental shove at the trunk. And then it happened: the trunk actually started to move forward through the air! Francis had actually had to run after it, to hold on.
Should she try it now, again? Let the trunk float to the elevator? Naw, that would be too weird for the people here; they wouldn't understand, would they?
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Unread 20th of April, 2010, 03:42
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(OOC: The events of this post happened in the recent past.)

"Mr. Rex, you didn't keep your appointment." The knife hovered in front of the man's face.

"I- I-" The man stuttered, until the knife's point pressed against his nose. "I don't want to die!"

The voice chuckled, making Mr. Rex squirm in the chair. Wrists struggled against the restraints. "Why are you doing this?"

"We are given the ultimate gifts of god, and they are squandered, Mr. Rex. Your partners have perpetuated this, and since you have been uncooperative...." The knife moved, jabbing into Mr. Rex's leg up to the handle.

The slightly overweight man screamed, but nobody would hear.

"Your boss should have listened. Tell me, Mr. Rex, how many Empowered are in your district, within your halls?"

Mr. Rex stopped sobbing, eyes wide in shock. "No, don't do it. This is between you and my other employers."

"I don't see a difference between the cartels and mobs and the institutions that dampen and discourage the Empowered." The knife pulled from Mr. Rex's leg, the tip slowly dragged across his skin from the wound up to the superintendent's throat. "Sadly, your courageous actions will be sorely missed tomorrow, when I give my first public demonstration."

The knife cut into Mr. Rex's throat, drawing blood. The killer left the body restrained to the chair, pulling a soda from the fridge in the kitchen before leaving into the night.
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Unread 22nd of April, 2010, 01:44
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The reporter looks gravely at the camera during the interruption of scheduled broadcasts. "An attack at a local highschool has caused a panic within the community. Police have not released many details, but have gone on record as saying that there have been two casualties and at least three wounded. Schools within the area have been instructed by the mayor to release students to their homes early as a response to this vicious shooting."


Most televisions are buzzing with the news of the shooting.
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Unread 22nd of April, 2010, 02:58
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The car streaked through the streets, weaving around traffic.

"We're going to get stopped Corran. Kyle is fine." Animus said calmly. The car turned a corner, without any driver input.

Corran frowned. "Now do you agree with me?"

"About what? The getting a group going?"

"I'm willing to bet that this was related to the Flood."

The car skidded to a stop just before the roadblock the cops had placed in front of the main entrance to the school. Corran stepped from the car as the door on Animus' side opened, a lift buzzing as it lowered his wheelchair to the ground.

"C'mon Mr. Xavier, hurry up." Corran waited impatiently.

Animus rolled his eyes, maneuvering his chair away from the car towards the gathered police.

The police focused on them quickly. "This area is off-limits to civilians." An officer with a shotgun told them, hefting the gun across his chest with both hands.

"My son was in that school. May I please enter?" Corran asked politely, an edge of worry entering his voice.

The officer shook his head. "You'll have to wait like the rest of the parents."

Animus spoke up. "Look, just let us in, we won't cause any problems."

Both men found the shotgun pointing at them now. "I said, you'll have to wait." The officer sneered.

Corran took a deep breath, before extending his right hand out and ripping the shotgun from the officer's hands. The gun floated in mid-air, before getting thrown to the side by the telekinetic. "Does that change your mind at all?"
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Unread 22nd of April, 2010, 03:29
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"Jesus Christ, look at this citation. Fucking fifteen blokes got blasted by this guy."

"Damn. How many more of these do we have to sift through?"

"Beats me. Any one of these is Medal of Honor material." The woman sifts through the box of citations for bravery in combat. "I mean, damn 'Caught a hand grenade thrown by the enemy, saving his squad.' I would never do that."

"Funky shit happening all over the place. Brass probably love it though."

---

"I just can't nail down a forecast. It's like they've taken every rule about the weather and turned it inside out. A fucking blizzard? Seriously? Yes, I can see it from my office, no the radar didn't show any damn blizzard moving through TEXAS. I know that I have the best equipment available, and I'm telling you this is coming from nowhere. This just isn't right!"

---

A farmer moves in his field, weeping tears of joy. Plants, thriving and growing and living plants, at long last, the drought's destruction now over.

---

The man looks at the lottery tickets and feels a compulsion, a gut feeling that that one will win... he buys the ticket...
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Unread 22nd of April, 2010, 04:02
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John Stock sees motion out of the corner of his eye. It is not the motion though that keeps his attention, it’s the lack of hands holding a shotgun that do. When the weapon drops down to the ground a few feet away, his attention is complete…so complete that things slow down. Always nice to know that I can rely on that.

Concentrating on the scene he forces it to slow down, which allows him to get there in a seemingly rather quick fashion. Walking around from behind the police van, he puts his hand on Officer Jenkins’ shoulder and releases the slow effect.

“Officer Jenkins, perhaps I should handle these people. Please resume your duties and keep doing the excellent job you have already been doing.”

Officer Jenkins’ head turns around and he sees the ruggedly handsome smile that John is offering. It’s a small thing, but Jenkins is young and John is a grizzled war veteran with more experience than Jenkins has years of life. It’s really an easy decision, besides, the Captain said that Mr. Stock had full autonomy to act as needed. Perhaps these other people are more ‘Consultants’.

John looks at the two men, who see his two holstered pistols, a zap-gun, and more than a few other gadgets arrayed on his vest and belt. “My name is Mr. Stock, you can also call me Colonel if you prefer. Let me make it easy for you, I am a consultant here, at the invitation of the police Captain. If you want something, say it plainly and I will see what I can make happen.”
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Unread 22nd of April, 2010, 04:38
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Animus inches his wheelchair forward. John notes that it does so without Animus actually touching the wheels. "My friend wanted to ensure that his nephew was okay."

Last edited by ShatteredUniverse; 22nd of April, 2010 at 05:26. Reason: TYPO SMASH (And a very slight retcon)
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Unread 22nd of April, 2010, 04:54
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John doesn't even blink or overt his attention due to the obvious use of 'power'.

"Certainly."

Pulling out a pen and a small notepad he says, "Can I please have your name, your nephew's, name, and which subject he had at 11:15 this morning. You probably don't know the specific teacher he has then, but we can really narrow down things by subject."

John looks at the gentlemen that is standing expectantly.

Last edited by ShatteredUniverse; 22nd of April, 2010 at 05:26. Reason: Same retcon as previous- nephew, not son
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Unread 22nd of April, 2010, 05:08
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Ricky hears the gunfire coming from a few blocks north of his alley, and blinks in surprise, then ignores it. He's seen enough gunfights to be uninterested.
But as cops start arriving he grows a bit anxious. He's got no intention of getting tangled up with the law.
Damn! They're all over the place, and if I just try and leave, they'll probably wonder why, and start questioning me. Maybe...
He concentrates, and for a moment, anyone watching would feel their eyes glaze over as he seems to be two people at once, and then it's over and an average looking, if somewhat small, policeman stands where Ricky once did.
Right, time to get out of here...
He walks out into the busy streets, and attempts to make his way out of the scene as quickly and inconspicuously as possible.
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Unread 22nd of April, 2010, 05:47
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"I'm Corran Horn, Kyle Horn in my nephew, and he was probably in biology with Matthias Mathews." Corran moves closer to John. "Look, Andy and I just need want to make sure he's fine- in person."
---
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Unread 22nd of April, 2010, 06:20
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John studiously writes down the names and information and says, "If, and I stress if, your nephew is not where he is suppose to be then I will tell you. If he is dead or wounded I will unfortunately need your help for a positive identification. Please, let me do this little favor for you before you go moving trucks around in an effort to get what you want. A little patience here will go a long way."

Regardless of their accepting what he just said or not, he expects them to do it his way. John pulls the radio up to his mouth, off his shoulder, and calls out for a specific officer. When he calls back he gives the name and class information for Corran's nephew and could he please have a runner sent with the information.

"Gentlemen, we should know in a matter of minutes what Kyle's status might be. I apologize that I do not know the names of the injured students. Right now that has not been released. You understand the need that this department has to at least seem to be in control when the media gets here. Poor Officer Jenkins over there had some media types get through on his last assignment and he is over cautious now."
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Unread 22nd of April, 2010, 07:03
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The press is racing around the corner, as the van with Francis, George, Travis and Roy arrives at the school. George and Travis get out immediately with their recording devices, searching for people to interview. Roy checks a camera and gets out in the street as well, while Francis opens her trunk and sets up a radio-link to the office.

It takes a few minutes, but in her earplug Roy is yelling: "are you ready yet? We have got to shoot. There's a military type here, if we get him on view, we'll have a grant story. Imagine: "ugly cover up by the government", etcetera.. We need that radio link now."

Yeah, yeah, Francis answers, you know better than to rush me, Roy. This is a delicate matter, you don't want snow on the screen, do you?
Finally she is finished; "ready to go, shoot at will!"
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Last edited by Francis; 22nd of April, 2010 at 07:24.
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Unread 22nd of April, 2010, 07:40
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Oh man, this is great stuff! They're going to love this footage. Roy pans the camera around, hoping that Francis is broadcasting.

Not really caring if the police and military looking guy care what he's doing, Roy moves away from the roadblock, trying to get footage of the ballistic experts recreating the shots from a rooftop away from the school. If I move away from the people, I'll get a clearer shot.

"We're going to get some real acclaim for this Francis, I swear."

The military chap suddenly lurches just barely within the frame of the camera lens. Roy zooms in on him, showing the blood gushing from a shot to the right side of his chest. "Oh shi-" Roy begins to say, before being grabbed. Suddenly the screams and every other sound stop. Roy feels himself being dragged away, unable to resist or fight back. He feels a single, sharp pain on the back of his head, and the world goes dark.

---
Screaming. Blood. Shocked police officers barking out commands.

Corran and Animus look around, trying to spot the shooter, to no avail. Deciding quickly, they turn to tend John's wounds as best they can.

(OOC: There was no sound of the gun being fired. Roy is being quickly dragged off during the ensuing chaos, and John is down, wounded but alive. Francis is getting a static hiss from her earplug. Ricky is far enough away that he misses the commotion.)
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Unread 22nd of April, 2010, 08:03
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John, finds himself on the ground, with not exactly a gaping chest wound. And that is why I always wear my vest! Even with my abilities, I always seem to take one for the team. Looking around at the two civi's moving towards him he says, "....get....behind....van....now!"

He pulls together his reserves, holds his arm across his chest, and rolls over towards cover. Once there he concentrates on making the bleeding stop.....
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Unread 22nd of April, 2010, 08:06
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The van starts up and moves to cover John, Corran and Animus. John and Francis might find the lack of a driver interesting.
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Unread 22nd of April, 2010, 08:12
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Without much surprise, since it is hard to surprise a ground pounder that rose to the rank of Colonel, John says, "That...works"

However, he thinks, WTF is going on here!

Meanwhile, his body tries to knit together and eject the projectile....which John is VERY interested in.
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Unread 22nd of April, 2010, 08:17
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Rawne's handler, brad, appeared at the entrance to his quarters, visibly breathless. "Come with me, we'll talk on the way to the chopper!"

Rawne complied, grabbing his pistol of the nightstand and slipping it into a shoulder holster as he swung his coat on. He'd argued against the standard issue nine millimetre rounds, and they had relented slightly, permitting him to carry the .45 version into the field. he hurried out the door and kept pace with his overexcited handler. There had been 3 calls so far with police on the scene hysterical about super powered attackers, and 3 times Rawne had sat wheels down on the helipad without ever taking off, this one was different.

"A colonel's been hit on the scene off this school shooting!" brad said, handing Rawne a photo of John as they climb into the chopper "Dust off, Dust off!" he yelled to the pilot, and turned back to Rawne "he's a high priority asset, and I want you on the ground to keep things in check. I know no damned schoolkid pulled a move on this guy, so if theres any superpower, i want you to bring him down okay?"

Rawne took in the information, and checked his weapon.

"ETA 3 minutes, Wheels down on the schools field. Stand by" the pilot radio'd back.
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Unread 22nd of April, 2010, 14:04
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"Goddamnit, I can't believe he got fucking shot!" Corran swears. Seeing that John is alive, breathing, and speaking, Corran gets up on his feet and runs towards the school.

Animus doesn't follow, merely watching to make sure that John truly is okay.
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Unread 22nd of April, 2010, 23:46
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Francis got something of a shock when her earplug suddenly gave static,
but she got really frightened when the van suddenly began to move of its own.
"Roy, Roy, what's happening? Roy, come in please. Roy?"
Turning a knob, she talked to George, "George, Roy isn't talking to me. static. And now the van is moving. Of its own. I am in the back. What is going on, George? Do you see Roy?"

Suddenly she realizes that this could well be telekinesis, like her own gift.
She looks out of the front and side windows to assess the situation.
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Unread 23rd of April, 2010, 01:04
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Rawne looked out the side of the chopper at the sea of people swelling below him, "Jesus Christ" he muttered as the helicopter straightened up to land.
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Unread 23rd of April, 2010, 02:06
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The helicopter dusts off on the school athletics field. Rawne jumps out and the helicopter lifts off to return without him shortly after. ("Rising costs means we can't lend you the bird both ways..." They told him.)

Francis sees a great deal of commotion going on- screaming, running, people panicking and the like.

George chimes in. "Somebody else got shot I think Francis... I can't see Roy anywhere."
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Unread 23rd of April, 2010, 02:25
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Owww Roy opens his eyes, the pain in his head throbbing.

Roy tries to move, but he can't. What am I tied to?

Wriggling around the restraints on his wrists, Roy feels around for what he's chained to.

Then he feels flesh. Fingers. A hand. Roy recoils back in shock, yanking harshly on the chain.

A groan. He hears a groan.

"Sorry man." Roy says, hoping his fellow captive wakes soon.
---
"It was easy. Caught him trying to moonlight as a police officer walking away from the scene of things. Decided that bagging two was better than one."

The phone hisses. "And of the van driver?"

"Disposed of after we arrived. The flooder still hasn't woken up yet."

"When he does, make an example of him." The voice on the other end of the line orders. "You've done good work."

The assassin closes the phone, dropping it into his pants pocket. Looking into the room where the captives are tied together, he smiles. "Well boys... almost time for your titanic debut...."

(OOC: Ricky got clubbed over the head like Roy, thrown into the van, and is now chained to Roy in some almost pitch-black room.)
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Unread 23rd of April, 2010, 03:20
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Rawne makes sure his pistol is secure in it's holster, and sprints towards the police cordon, he quickly spots the colonel amongst the crowd, for a start he's the only one with a chest wound laying on his back. "Nick Rawne, I trust your expecting me?" he says as he dashes in and slides to his knees next to the fallen man. "You're lucky you're not dead. I'm told your a military man, what can you tell me about the shooter?"
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