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The Making of Destiny; PRP
Topic Started: Nov 13 2015, 04:34 AM (233 Views)
Bra
Member Avatar
Long, Lost, Found
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Chasing another's past.

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North City was known for its crime before the Legion takeover. But one would think it would evolve past that once it had been rebuilt.
<br><br>
It did not. And Stella was absolutely getting sick of it.
<br><br>
Her foot slammed on the gas, lurching her squad car forward even faster than before. The siren that was screaming on the top of her car didn't affect her at all; it was so common nowadays that it would be strange to not have it going. She ground her teeth together and glared through the glass pane as she stayed in pursuit of the bank robbers.
<br><br>
The idiots were driving like they were the hottest thing in town, swerving between lanes without a care in the world. No doubt they heard the police siren but they didn't show any worry over it. Machine guns were pointed out the window and were spewing bullets into the sky above in celebration.
<br><br>
"Four. Four armed and masked men. And it's not even nine in the morning." She grumbled as her hands clenched the wheel tighter. The young woman's voice was generally much sweeter than this, melodic even to some. But when she got angry, there was a sharpness to her tone that made even the most bad criminals think twice about crossing her.
<br><br>
"Squad Car 52, what is your position?" There was HQ, right on schedule. Never quick enough to warn her about the robberies and attacks, they always chimed in after she had already burst into action.
<br><br>
She grabbed the walkie-talkie part of the police scanner and brought it up to her mouth. "This is Officer Lockett. I am in pursuit of the suspects. Requesting backup."
<br><br>
"Roger, Car 52. We have two squad cars waiting to continue pursuit. You can pull away now."
<br><br>
What?! She mentally screamed, her eyes widening in anger. How dare they simply take her off the pursuit for two other cars! Who could possibly-...
<br><br>
"Rhan and Max." She growled. Rhan Templeton and Max Strider were the precinct's star detectives, the icons and heroes of North City. They had busted a serial killer two months earlier (after she had done all the grunt work) and since then, they were practically handed the best collars.
<br><br>
She practically screamed as she flung the walkie-talkie against the dashboard. Every fiber in her being told her to continue the pursuit, damn the precinct and their orders. It was all she wanted to do. But with a scowl she leaned off the gas and watched angrily as the bank robbers began to pull away from her.
<br><br>
Stella pulled the car off to the side and put it in park. A gloved fist smashed into the steering wheel as she took her frustration out in one quick motion. Her anger had boiled up so fiercely that she was seething through clenched teeth now. She stared into the empty space on her dashboard, rebellious impulses sparking in her mind. And yet she did nothing. Because she had to stay in line. Because she knew better than to expect anything less. She was a damn good cop, one of the best cops in the entire city. But none of that mattered.
<br><br>
Her name was garbage. The whole Lockett family was at this point.
<br><br>
Frederick Lockett had been the mayor of North City when the Steel Legion rose to power. Unlike the other cities of the world that fought against the robotic control, her father had opted to let them in for fear of his own life. The largest amount of human assimilation that took place on the planet had come heavily from the citizens of North City. A staggering nine percent of the total twenty to be exact. Stella had been away at the academy at the time and when she heard what he had done, she was one of the first to volunteer for the impromptu cadet army.
<br><br>
It didn't matter though. Whatever she did during the war, no matter how much she risked, there were still those looks. The ones filled with hate and disgust, the ones that judged her by her father's actions. The police commissioner had tried to talk her out of joining the police force, for fear of community backlash. But she insisted she join up, to prove that not all Locketts were cowards.
<br><br>
Yet she was rarely given a chance to prove it.
<br><br>
She clicked open the door of her squad car and stepped out of the vehicle, slamming it right behind her. She pulled her hat off her head and cobalt blue hair tumbled down to just below her shoulders, the long strands curling from being tucked away. Big blue eyes stared at the ground in dismay before raising them up to look into the sky above.
<br><br>
She made a wish in that moment. One she had never intended to tell anyone. And not that anyone was listening or capable of granting such a wish. But what she didn't know was that her prayers had already been answered.
<br><br>
She just needed to wait a little longer.
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<img src="http://oi16.tinypic.com/6pot4k2.jpg" height="200" align="left" width"200">

WC: 843

</div><div style="font: 9px georgia; width: 400px;">credit to <a href="http://www.rpg-directory.com/index.php?/user/39330-janies-got-a-gun/">janie's got a gun</a><i>!</i> at <a href="http://www.rpg-directory.com/">RPG-D</a></div>[/dohtml][/align]
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Bra
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Long, Lost, Found
[align=center][dohtml]<link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Metamorphous' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'><div style="width: 434px; height: 22px; text-transform: lowercase; background-color: #000000; font: 26px 'Metamorphous'; letter-spacing: 2px; color: #152736; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #f5f5f5; line-height: 23px;">

Chasing another's past.

</div><div style=" width: 400px; height: 400px; background-color: #000000; color: #cccccc; padding: 10px 10px; overflow: auto; text-align: justify; font: 11px helvetica; border-left:7px solid #cccccc; border-top: 7px solid #cccccc; border-right: 7px solid #cccccc; background: #000000; line-height: 10px; ">
The Shadow Dragon floated in the darkness of space, miles away from the Earth's atmosphere. It's angry, jagged shape was pointed directly at the surface like a staple taking careful aim for the paper. Its thrusters were humming gently though that was inaudible in the vacuum of space, their dim green light the only evidence of the ship even being active.
<br><br>
In the Master Control Room, Maker sat. A crudely constructed throne, made of a marble-iron polymer, rested right in front of the glass pane that served as the window to the outside. He was staring down at the blue planet, a frown upon his face. His right hand rested against his cheek, or it was better to say that his cheek was resting against his hand. He almost looked...bored.
<br><br>
"I can't believe this is where I have to start." He mumbled to himself, pulling his face free of his hand. He reached back and tugged his hood off, revealing his soft pink mohawk. Despite its being under a hood for long periods of time, it always managed to spring back up into perfectly formed spikes. An odd event even to him.
<br><br>
He turned away from the window and began to rise from his seat when a sharp, burning pain surged into his mind. He growled and grabbed the arm of the chair to keep his balance, falling down to one knee at the same time. As he groaned, flashes of images appeared in his mind. They seared inside his head, causing his eyes to roll into the back of his head and his body to shake violently.
<br><br>
Me too! I'm here to help!
<br><br>
Tapion!
<br><br>
There are ladies present on this ship!
<br><br>
His mental powers quickly reforged the wall that had been cracked, sealing in the memories once more. Gasping for air he stayed kneeling, staring at the ground as sweat trickled down from his brow. The blocks in his mind were failing more often and the floor that was held behind it was threatening to break through. The Hands had ensured him that as long as he continued to repair it, he would be fine. They had chosen not to tell him how often he would have to do that after a certain amount of time.
<br><br>
He wiped the sweat from his brow on his sleeve and raised his attention to the large object in the center of the room. It was an amalgamation of wires and metal, all forged together into a gray pillar of sorts. Tiny ports in this creation generated invisible anti-gravity neutrons that linked up with the white plates that hovered near it. It looked like the face of a broken statue, the pieces frozen a heartbeat after it shattered. Heavy red tubes attached to the face under its 'mask', connecting it with the rest of the ship. Deep red eyes, fluorescent and glowing, stared at Maker as he stood up from his position.
<br><br>
"Are you unwell, Maker?"
<br><br>
"I'm fine." He grumbled out as he moved to the set of consoles on the other side of the room. The machine in the center turned on its axis, watching him as he went.
<br><br>
"Those were not the reactions of someone who is 'fine'." The consciousness continued.
<br><br>
"Everyone has rough moments, City. It's best to learn from them and put them behind you." The Konatsian finished off that particular interaction before he began typing away at the keyboard in front of him. Holographic screens popped up in front of him, displaying several different charts and details. "What's the status of the target? Are you sure that she's down there?"
<br><br>
"Blood type matches along with several other objectifying details. Age twenty one, natural cobalt color hair, current occupation is law enforcement..." City rambled off a few examples for Maker.
<br><br>
"That's not what I meant." He said, snapping a look over his shoulder at the intelligence. He pressed the enter key with force and brought up the full rundown of information regarding their target. "Are you sure that this human woman is the target that the Hands sent us in search for?"
<br><br>
A momentary pause. "I do."
<br><br>
Maker flicked his wrist at the screen in front of him, removing charts until only the police database's picture of Stella remained. "So she's the one that'll make everything possible." He sighed with disgust. "Never thought it'd be a human." He looked her over from head to toe, lips twisting as he thought. Not bad...for a human. "Any word on the formation of the Guardians?"
<br><br>
"None yet, Maker. The Hands mentioned a ripple in time; it's possible their formation may have been delayed."
<br><br>
"Hopefully not too long. We don't want this dimension falling the same way the last three did. And especially not like Dimension ěne." Maker turned away from the console to look up at City, his brow furrowed. "What percentage are you sure that this 'Stella' is the right one?"
<br><br>
"Your continued questioning is beginning to make me wonder if you think I'm inadequately measuring-..."
<br><br>
"Just tell me the number, City."
<br><br>
Another momentary pause. "Ninety-six point three percent to the thousandth power."
<br><br>
"Well then. That's not quite one hundred percent, City." Maker said, as if he was chastising him like a child. A small smirk tugged his lip onto his cheek as he looked up at the intelligence. "Go and test her out. If your measurements produce a one hundred percent probability, bring her aboard."
<br><br>
"If not, level the city. Kill every living thing. We can't have news of our search getting out."

</div><div style="background: #DCDCDC; width: 420px; height: 200px; align: right; line-height: 7px; overflow: auto; border-left: 7px solid #cccccc; border-bottom: 7px solid #cccccc; border-top: 7px solid #cccccc; border-right: 7px solid #cccccc; font: 12px georgia; color: #333333;">

<img src="http://oi16.tinypic.com/6pot4k2.jpg" height="200" align="left" width"200">

WC: 924
TWC: 1767

</div><div style="font: 9px georgia; width: 400px;">credit to <a href="http://www.rpg-directory.com/index.php?/user/39330-janies-got-a-gun/">janie's got a gun</a><i>!</i> at <a href="http://www.rpg-directory.com/">RPG-D</a></div>[/dohtml][/align]
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