| Toxicoid | Epic Literate Roleplay Starters [♥]

[Toxicoid]

♥ ~ | | | Epic Literate Roleplay Starters | | | ~ ♥

[] This is a thread dedicated to epically long roleplay starters.
[] They aren't really starters; more like introductions to Novelettes or even Novellas (maybe even one day a Novel!)
[] The point of this thread is simply to have a place to post the extremely long starters since they are too textual and page-stretching to be posted on a roleplaying thread.

Prerequisites:

- Males characters only, as my roleplays are all romances and I always play a female character.
- LITERATES only. I expect at least 200+ words per response. AT LEAST. It is not that hard, people. Like, 2 paragraphs?
- A roleplay picture is not mandatory, but encouraged (real, anime or animated is good).
- Do not reply to a starter if you are not educated in the topic of the roleplay. I spend a lot of time researching and putting a ton of effort in my writing, I expect the same knowledge in return (where it applies).
- There NEEDS to be creativity. It can't be the same thing stretching on forever, I love plot twists and things out of nowhere. Be spontaneous! ;D I hate being the only one always inserting new ideas.

Here is a link to my previous thread: LITERATE ROLEPLAY
It has my really old starters. Oldest at the beginning, newest at the end. Mind you, some of the writing is quite awful - So a nice WARNING to you. <3

PLEASE, DO NOT POST IN THIS THREAD! EVER!

[Toxicoid]

TITLE:

* Behind Violet Eyes *

Time: In the near-future
Setting: Brooklyn, New York, USA
Genre: Science-Fiction, Post-Apocalyptic
Chapters: Part I, II, & III

[Toxicoid]

* Part I: The Awakening *

The man awoke. The moment his eyes opened, a flood of doctors seeped into the blank white room, splashing no more colour than what was already there. “He's awake!” One of them cried, in great awe. Moments later, a man in a military uniform entered the room, eyes wide, as if the unbelievable had occurred. He hovered over the man in silence until the doctor continued his evaluation. “Can you hear me?” The doctor asked to the man below him. The man crunched his brow and shuffled in the bed uncomfortably as if confused and dazed. “Can you hear me?” The doctor insisted, and the man finally nodded in agreement. “Follow my fingers.” The professional instructed, holding the middle and index erect and slowly pacing it from one side to the other. He then placed one finger on each side of the patient's face, and slowly moved them towards himself. “He's not blind. His peripherals are good. He's conscious.” He reported to the General leaning beside him. “Welcome back, Sergeant.”

“W-where am I?” The patient questioned, beginning to lift himself from a laying position to a sitting, where two nurses rushed to assisted him.

“You're at the Rehabilitation Center on Sector 29, Base 1.” The General answered, seeming a bit anxious of the current situation. There was a strange pause. “Do you... remember?” There was some more silence, and an unease rose in everyone in the room as they watched the Sergeant confusingly analyze his environment. The General looked at the doctor; they both knew the possibility. The general inched slightly forward, “What is your name?”

“I... my name...” He stumbled for words, “My name... I... I don't remember. What is that? Sector 29? Base? What? What happened to me? Who am I?” Suddenly, reality had struck the entire crew. His memory had been broken.

There was a mutual, but silent sigh that circulated. A nurse, who seemed relatively quiet, quickly stormed out of the room; a loud sob escaping her lips on her way out. The second nurse chased after her, muttering a string of words relating to memory loss and recovery. “You're a sergeant of the U.S. Military. You're on an army base, at a medical centre for damaged soldiers. You were caught in a cross-fire and explosion. Everyone was killed, except for you. You've been in a coma for 2 and a half years. What is the last you remember?”

The soldier fell into his hands, roughly rubbing his face to grasp the information he has just been fed. “I remember...” There was an excruciatingly long hold. Both the doctor and the General leaned in just a tad to embrace what was to come. “Nothing... I remember nothing.” It could be seen in the eyes of the General, that all hope had been lost. He looked away in shame, lightly shaking his head and muttering the words 'another lost soldier'. “Wait.” The Sergeant spat loudly, “I remember lights. Many lights and screaming men. And... and weird things in the sky. Ships. Ships I had never seen before. I remember being confused and then this light... this bright neon light coming right for me. Then... then I don't... I don't remember past it.” He took a breath, “Over 2 years? What happened that night, over 2 years ago? Were we being attacked? By who? The Russians?” It became evident only memory had been lost, but not knowledge.

Pacing back and forth a couple of times, slowly, before bracing to tell the young man before him the unknown truth, he spoke, “Yes, we were attacked. But by we, I don't mean the US... I mean the entire human civilization. Those ships you remember, they are not human-made aircrafts. They are alien ships. Unidentified Flying Objects. Who ever are flying them are not from Earth...” He looked the Sergeant dead in the face, “They're from space.”

The Sergeant's eyes shifted back and forth from both serious faces of the doctor and the General, until he busted out into a hysterical laugh. Finding himself alone in laughter, he came to a stop. “You can't be serious...” The General shook his head, walking over to the window near the hospital bed and in one dramatic movement, threw the blinds open to reveal the reality of Earth. The Sergeant's eyes grew, as he slipped out of bed and shuffled to the window. His eyes gazing upon the horrific landscape before him. Crumbling buildings, wild vegetation, abandoned architecture. But the oddest of them all... gigantic estranged plants, bigger than the biggest of skyscrapers, soaring into the sky like massive extraterrestrial trees.

The doctor bit his lip, “There is an unidentified plague spreading across the globe, if you remember... The war started after the initial attack; the one you survived. The plague began several months before your coma. Though, the effects of this illness is unknown, people are dying... dropping like flies. In last 3 to 4 years, the human population has shrivelled from 8 billion... to barely 3 billion.” The patient turned around to face the doctor, a mutual expression of devastation between them. “From our research, the plague is like a virus that enters the blood stream and mutates the genes. The virus... is... aerial, we believe. We don't know much, but we do know most don't survive, due to the intense mutation of the DNA. The ill end up with immense deformities and die from organ failure or a loss of blood.” He turned to the white wall a few feet from the bed. He pressed a button on a remote and the projector screen illuminated placing an image on the wall. “Mal-mutations like these.” The sight was an awful one. Once human beings, morphed with extra limbs, disfigured faces, and altered anatomies. “Though, those who do survive, experience 'proper' mutations.” He flipped to an image of a plagued soldier with a strip of green in his brown hair and light violet eyes, “Meaning those who mutate without sickening means are capable of hosting the plague.” He pressed a button, “This is Anthony, a former soldier of ours. Notice how the mutation is barely noticeable. The only thing that really changes is the eye colour and his hair seemed to progressively turn more green, strand by strand. But it took 14 months for that one tiny strip of hair to turn green. His main mutation was that he became poisonous. His skin, his saliva, his sweat and even his tears. All of it, toxic. It wasn't clear at first. Those who made skin contact just got a rash. But as his eyes turned more violet and his hair a little more green, the rashes turned to first degree burns, then second, then third, then contact became so hostile... that just one touch would cause the skin to bubble and morph, like as if scarred from acid. Everyone thought it was just the skin, but one day when he came back from a battle. His wife was there to greet him. He kissed her. She started to foam from the mouth and died within 2 minutes. The Kiss of Death, it's known.” The doctor turned off the projector. “Anthony killed himself that night. Since, I haven't seen another plague survivor.” The doctor's eyes moved over to the Generals'. There seemed to be something mutual about the gaze, as if information was being held just between the two of them.

“You were the only one, Sergeant, who survived the first attack; Moon Battle. We were hoping you'd be the key to their defeat.... that you'd know or maybe had seen information that the rest of the military hasn't. Since you've been out, the US has joined forces with the rest of the world, forming the OIA – Orbis International Army.” It was the General speaking, “Nothing we've tried has been successful. No bombs, no bullets, no nothing. These... ships... descend to, what seems to be, 'feed' these huge plants sitting in the middle of our cities. It started as a meteorite shower; massive pieces of rock shooting from the sky.” The Sergeant, in complete awe of the events that had unfolded during his unconscious, sat back down on the edge of the bed to continue to listen to the General, “It took the rocks several weeks before they busted open, and out sprawled these swaying plant arms to form some sort of tree. During those months, the military tried everything to remove the meteorites, but the rock was indestructible, as are the plants. They seem to be protected by an invisible force-field. Every time we fire something at it, the shot disintegrates before coming in contact with the plant. So, we tried firing at the ships when they came to cater the plants, but that was the biggest mistake we made...” He swallowed roughly, “They fired back, and their weaponry is far more advanced and lethal than any human could have ever imagined. Dead, instantly. We've been in military withdraw since, afraid if we attack any further, they'll kill the entire human race. Which they've already seem to be doing slowly with the plague, anyways. You were our only hope.”

The soldier and Sergeant cleared his throat, “I remember something about many sightings of UFOs as well as strange electromagnetic interferences and many incidents of crashing planes. But then... I all I remember vaguely is the attack... But why am I so important, then? What does my survival have to do with their defeat? Or the plague? I don't understand!”

His eyes turning to the young man, the General spoke up, “In your battle, a ship went down. One of their ships, for unexplained reasons. It was a small spacecraft, not much bigger than a US fighter jet... But the ship is missing. It was gone by the time we got to you. Disappeared. Someone had moved or taken it. A few fragments of the ship were scattered here and there, but nothing good enough to allow us to determine the weapons, the material of the ship, but most of all... the one driving it. We believe someone took the ship. That it's been stolen for reasons we need to figure out.” He reached deep into his pocket and pulled out a discolored piece of metal with an unrecognizable symbol. The General reached out to hand it to him. The Sergeant looked down at it, memories of that attack slowly coming back to him. The General paused a moment before asking, “Will you help us find it?”

[Toxicoid]

* Part II: The Coming *

It had started, two years ago, with just one. Just one large meteorite that landed in New York; right off the Brooklyn Bridge. It took 11 weeks before it broke open, and weeks later a foreign plant, bigger than buildings, emerged from the giant rock. It sprouted into a massive item, and just a couple weeks into its magnified growth, another came – another meteorite. Then another, and another, and another. Almost one every week that split open and out arose another space tree. That's when the plague castigated. It was slow at first, but then hit hard and thousands were dying a day. The sky gradually began to fog, more and more. It became clear these esoteric plants were emitting something into the sky; the plague was no coincidence. The vapour the trees discharged were discolouring the sky into a hazy green, and a thick film of dark clouds set over the city and many others all over the world. But that was all before. All before they made their first appearance. They were the creators of this bio-hazard; an unidentified group of beings, hidden in unidentified space planes that originally were believed to be human-based – like a secret technological military advancement from an unidentified source. Although soon it became clear, globally, that these ships were not from Earth. Among the ocean of blurry mist, these UFOs descended from outer space. They seemed to only crowd over the plants - a reason yet to be understood. These were aliens; mythological legends unproven to be real or legitimate. Until the day they first came. That day; a day that Henry had predicted from the first meteorite, was detrimental.

The US army, the Russian army, EVERY army rushed to defend what they perceived as a direct attack against humanity. They had attempted to destroy the plants before, but all tries had failed. The plants had formed an almost unreal aura that deteriorated any form of bullet, missile, bomb, or any sort of destructive material designed to mutilate the vegetation. But when the whole world, especially the US military, chose to attack these unwelcomed visitors, the logistics of the situation was altered wholly. The attacks against their extraneous ships were devastating. Not against the unknown incomers, but against the human population. The military assault completely backfired. It became clear that notorious day, that these aliens were far more advanced than anyone could have ever dreamed. Their technology, both obscure and unpredictable, was abolishing and brilliant. An invisible force-field encircled each ship that cascaded towards the plants, extracting from them, each time they came, something still unknown. But unlike the aura around the trees, which disintegrated any attack, these force-fields caught and froze each projectile weapon until there were hundreds of missiles floating around the ships, as if they were being magnetically controlled. Then the terrifying happened. In mid-air, ships still hovering over the plantations, the ammunitions surrounding them began to turn. They flipped slowly until the nose of each missile was pointed, rather than at them, straight for the face of the earth. Before anyone could react, they fired; rocketing forward and blasting the force that had aimed to destroy them. Now the destruction was on us humans. Millions dead; thousands wounded; hundreds of collapsed buildings and billions of dollars worth in damage. The fall of man had become a fatal reality; the 'aliens' were indestructible.

* * *

“Adesina! Here they come! The fight has begun.” The man shuffled the curtains from the window shut, running around in a frantic mess, “Adesina! They're coming! We have to get in the shelter - quickly now!” He sported a thick British accent. He dove for a box filled with survival essentials needed for the event about to occur. The situation seemed predicted, “Sina... Sina!” Grasping onto the railing of the stairwell, his head tilted backwards, he gazed up into the blackness of the upstairs. Holding the box on his hip, he regained hold of it with two hands before slowly taking a couple of steps; a confused expression on his visage. “Adesina?” With sudden quake, the house swayed wildly with the impact of an estranged explosion. The man was thrown to his feet, a spray of debris charging across the room like rapid fire. He was covered, from head to toe; buried in a sea of broken glass, crushed cement, and broken furniture. The ground began to shake again and again, as if the earth itself was under complete destruction.

A missile had rocketed through the house; splitting it into a series of unfortunate pieces. One moment; I was watching a row of tanks scattered across the streets of New York; the next moment, complete blackness. It took me a few minutes to regain consciousness, but by the time I did, the house was sprawled and the scene was disastrous. I was staring at a once-ceiling, now the sky, with a heavy load of dry wall flattening me. My vision was temporarily blurred. It only took me moments to realize the situation, and to spring to life. With one big thrust, I launched the hallway wall off of my heightened body, which had accelerated into recovery in a matter of moments. It was with supernatural strength that I managed to lift a fraction of a house off of me. Filled with a sudden deep worry, I rushed towards the staircase, which had become virtually invisible among the rubble. “Dr. Ruther!?” My eyes jolted from left to right in a sense of panic to find him. “Henry!” I hollered out. My voice seemed to disappear into winds of thundering bullets and a rainbow of flashing lights, missiles, and roaring bombs. It was war.

Throwing myself over the stairway of destroyed structure, I dove into the field of rubbish. “Henry!” I cried out again, a quickening panic setting deeper in my voice. “Henry, answer me!” I continued to shuffle through the various pieces of shredded home; tossing shattered furniture from a couch to the side. “I'm coming, Henry!” My arms seemed to speed through the process of digging him out. In sheer desperation, I dug until I found a remain of flesh; his hand. Grabbing it like a hand shake, I pulled lightly, using my opposite hand to push off a column that had previously held the house in place. I wore leather gloves, always, to protect those I come in contact with – and kept my skin covered most of the time, other than my face. I found him there, laying lifeless before me; his salty grey hair and goatee covered in dust. My voice shrivelled, “s**t...” My eyes started to instantly water, “Henry?” I pulled his aged body into my arms, cradling his head in mine. Holding back my tears, I refused to cry since I was not a crier. I was instantly smeared in blood. He had a severe gash on the right side of his head. He twitched slightly, his eyes just barely opening to look at me as he gained consciousness. But there was no time to speak or to savour dying moments. There was a storm out there; a storm of natural disaster and there was no time.

I scooped him into my arms like a prince would his princess. He was a small man, but pure genius. And he deserved a better end than this. As I lifted him into the air, he started to grumble; a grumble I knew signified disapproval of my action. But he was barely breathing. “Shut up.” I spat at him, all the while making little eye contact as I sprung to life, jumping over and under the derailed architecture I once called home. “I'm taking you with me. Don't you even think you can fight me on this.” Another rocket caterwauled into the leftovers of the building, causing another significant blow. I fell to my knees, but got back up in a flash, ducking my head and Dr. Ruther with me as I dodge the remains of the roof, collapsing inward towards me. I blasted through the back door, which was ironically still standing, and headed to the backyard. A few feet from the house were large steel doors directly in the ground. Henry had spent years assembling the shelter; long before any alien activity. He had built it after WWIII, which had occurred almost 30 years before I was born. The haven was virtually immortal. It was designed to withstand the impact of the worst of bombs and attacks. Practically flying to the thing, I quickly punched in the password into a complex security pad. The screen flashed green and I hauled the 100 pound doors open, which revealed a stairwell. I jumped in; slamming the doors shut and re-entered the same password into another identical security pad. The light flashed green and a series of scientifically advanced locks sealed the shelter. A series of green lights illuminated each step of the staircase, leading me to a large underground apartment equipped with all the essentials needed to live for several months, if not years. The apartment, made solely of titanium and tungsten, was a comfortable confined space.

Still grasping Henry in my arms, I quickly rushed to a bed and set him down. Turning around, I swayed to the cupboards that substituted for a medical pharmacy. Grabbing bottles, needles, bandages and vials, I made my way back to him. My eyes glanced at him as I removed my leather gloves. Slapping on plastic gloves, I poked the needle into one of the vials and extracted its content. "No..." Henry rose his hand weakly, lightly touching my arm. "I'm not worth it..." His voice was raspy, but he was holding on despite his significant blood loss. "It's yours... you have to keep it. I won't let them take you. Not again."

I slapped him away aggressively, despite my care for him. "I told you to shut up." The memories of that awful day flooded my head. But I shoved them to the deepest part of my mind. I refused to think about how the government tortured me in the name of medical research. I was a mutant. A genetic miracle and successful carrier of the Green Plague. My anomalies were so far advanced that the military had conspired against me; accusing me of being not human, but an alien spy – one of 'them'. The whole world seemed to be after me, and no matter where I went, everyone knew I was a product of the plague. So I became the master of disguise; wearing wigs and contact lenses to transform my physical identity. I had become unexplainable, and in society's eyes... an infected Frankenstein. I had been violated in so many shapes and forms, and then had my life stolen from me. I wasn't about to let the man who saved me die at my hands because of an estranged prophecy of divinity and a selfish formula designed to revive me if some one were to try and eliminate me. In his dexterous mind, I was a living oracle – a deliverer of change. But to me, his beliefs were nonsense, despite his incredible brilliance.

Lifting his sleeve up, I wiped down the crease of his arm with alcohol and placed a tight elastic band around his arm to pressure blood flow. "Take it, you old fool." I told him. His eyes started to close; he was losing consciousness again. I smacked him hard, "No!" I yelled before almost stabbing the needle into his vein, and pushing down on the syringe. The chemicals seeped into his blood stream, and immediately, his eyes opened wide. His breathing intensified and his chest pumped fiercely. The adrenaline of the shot fired through him, and in just moments his body was beginning to heal. "You can do the rest," I told him, lifting the bandages to show him what I meant about his head trauma. His eyes were fixated on the ceiling, wide like shock. He was completely paralysed; the serum was working. As much as he wanted to protest my coming action, he could not, since the injection would keep him in that state for several minutes before he could speak or move again. "You've done so much for me," I caressed the side of his face, "I don't know what more I could do to thank you... but to leave you." My voice hushed into a saddened whisper, "Goodbye."

Snatching my leather gloves from his lap, I disappeared from the room, heading back up the stairs and to the security pad. Entering the information for the third time. The doors unlocked and I rushed out of there and back into the apocalyptic chaos. Issuing a set of codes, I did the only thing I knew could keep Dr. Ruther from chasing after me – I reset the shelter password and the locks. Something I had decoded several weeks ago without his knowledge. Not only did I reset the password, but I deactivated the interior security device, allowing only someone from the outside to unlock the shelter. I needed answers. I needed to know what I was, and why. It was the only reason I left the shelter, and because I knew my presence would endanger Henry's life. I was jailing him to his own creation, but it was only for the best.

I ran onto the broken street, looking around, as if lost while I pulled the gloves back on my delicate fingers. The street; the city; was broken. Brooklyn had been destroyed in a matter of minutes. I didn't know what to do, or where to go; where to start. My head rose to face the disaster around me. I was introduced to something I had little expected. Not only had the ships reversed the military attacks, but small alien crafts emerged from the large ships. It was an official space war – Man vs. Alien, and I knew who was going to win. A battle erupted, escalating the already catastrophic war between both forces. I followed one of the small alien crafts with my eyes. A gut feeling drew me towards that particular one. It was firing bright plasma towards the US military, but suddenly, it took a hit. It must have malfunctioned, because it's normal force-field had failed. It spiralled towards the ground, shifting out of control, still firing profusely, until finally crashing just hectometres in front of me. I followed my enhanced senses, leading me straight to the sight of the crash. Bolting forward, I dashed towards the scene until I encountered a wave of hot smoke. There before me, a sheet of limp bodies, trashed and scattered across the street like broken dolls. She was right there. The ship I had been so drawn too moments before. Some of her pieces were spread across the scene, but I carefully made my way towards the steaming spaceship.

I kept a close eye on my surroundings, assuring no man was still alive - for the simple fact that I would be mistaken for the enemy. I crouched towards a laying soldier and pulled a gun off from around him with my leather-gloved hands. Just as I did so, his body started to inch, and his eyes lifted slowly. He was a handsome man, dirtied by the rough conditions of battle. He stared up at me confused and in awe of my deranged appearance. For a second, I stared back – my piercing violet eyes glowing in the dark coming of the night. Our faces were just inches apart. “Was it worth it?” I muttered to him, a bitter tone of in my burke voice, “To kill what man has always feared... the unknown.” And for a moment, I considered not doing it. I lifted into a standing position, soaring over him with the cold barrel of his own gun threatening the back of his skull. I gazed at the alien ship several yards before him and I. My eyes returned to him, “I am not a monster.” Without pulling the trigger, I walked away.

[Toxicoid]

* Part III: The Binding *

A black SUV screeched to a halt; tearing the muddy ground as it stopped. The general burst the driver's door open and exploded onto the scene. Although the rain was coming down hard, he flailed his arms in the air in the utmost panic. “What in the name-!” He growled furiously, swaying his head over to a soldier who was staring intently towards the space tree. “Is he out of his mind!?” The general followed the eye line of the soldier, and turned his gaze to the man in the sky; it was the sergeant, and he has chosen the unthinkable – to climb the slap of vegetation, hundreds of meters high, in the midst of a trenched haze.

“He insisted, sir.” The soldier replied but it was raining so hard he had to repeat it twice before it could be properly heard. “We tried to stop him, but he had already started climbing before we could really do anything...” The uniformed man shrugged lightly, holding his rifle close to his chest as he consistently eyed the sergeant. “We have a chute prepared. But at such a height, catching him can be unpredictable... and...”

The general advanced forward, ignoring the soldier now behind him. “Sergeant! SERGEANT!” He yelled as loudly as he could to combat the roaring of the weather. “This is a death sentence, sergeant! They can be here at any minute.” His eyes slowly started to widen.

Ironically, as if they themselves had heard his remark, the clouds split open as a series of large ships began to descend. They had arrived for another 'feeding'. Claws extending to hug the plant before him, soldiers began to disperse with sudden alarm. “Draw back! Retreat! Retreat!” They were all running, but the general seemed to stand with awe. “General! We have to go. We have to!” Before the general could detest, the soldier grabbed him by the arm and forcibly pushed him into the car. “He won't make it. He'll be disintegrated.” The soldier admitted, closing the door before the car skid off towards the opposite direction. The sergeant in the tree would have to fend for himself, as the entire army raced to their shelters; leaving him but alone with the oncoming enemies.

* * *

“It appears there is a man in one of the unknown visitors' tree. Reasons for his climbing are still unknown.” An African-American woman held the microphone to her lips as she reported the latest 'news'. Since helicopters, planes, and any sort of aerial vehicle was banned from the sky, news had to remain grounded. Despite this, journalists still managed to catch footage of the faceless man as he pulled his way up the deranged plant. “Oh my god...” She said, he head tilting to turn around and view the predators approaching. “They're coming.” She spoke back into the camera. “Who knows what's going to happen.” She paused, “******** this, I'm out of here... I don't get paid enough for this shi-” Her hand smacked the camera to the ground. A blurred image of several pairs of feet scurrying away.

I had been wiping down the dusty sheet of mystery metal I had retrieved years ago. Although I had worked to perfect its damaged body, I hadn't touched it in several weeks. The television was mounted in the corner across the room. I glanced over briefly to visit the screen with my eyes, but in general I wasn't paying much attention to the crap that was aired on TV since the takeover. Despite the lack of interest, my hand began to slow as the camera shifted to the man in the tree. My cleaning came to a stop as my mouth lightly widened. My eyes were open and the colour to my face quickly started to drain. As soon as the video camera fell to the ground, I sprung to life with drastic energy. “s**t!” Whipping the cloth and the bottle of Windex across the room, I threw myself against the ship. My hand pressed against a square mold attached to the side of the vehicle. The plaque lit up several times before a there was a light zap. My body twitched as I removed my hand. I had five pin pricks on each of my fingers. A couple drops of blood fell to the ground before I pulled the door open. I entered the ship and buckled up as quickly as I could. The wall in front of me started to slide open to reveal the gloomy outdoors. I could see in the near-distance the field of city disaster and Species X beginning their sporadic cascades. “Okay... let's do this.” I mumbled to myself right before placing the tank mask over my lips. The ship spurred to life and rocketed out of the tower to face the incident.

“What... is this idiot... doing?” I was talking to no one, literally. Perhaps it was a product of insanity, or even just a standard effect of being secluded from society, despite in the middle of it. The claws began to clamp, and by the way the arms shook it was evident that their routine was commencing. If he was caught in their invisible crossfire, he would be instantly burned alive by the amount of radiation being blasted into the core of the plants. By watching closely as I located the man, I noticed a sense of fear by the speed of his hands, unreeling the cord that held his harness. He was descending, or attempting too, but it wasn't fast enough. Even if he were to jump, he would tumble to his death. Unless he knew something I didn't. I was flying with great risk. One, the military could choose to shoot my ship down – since I was the only alien floating about... And two, Specie X could easily detect a disconnected signal and deem my craft as enemy territory, despite the ship being a product of their technology, and evidently, is their own machinery. With a sky full of hungry foes, no one seemed to notice – or if they did, they were too distracted to care. I was facing a series of dilemmas; one of them was the simple decision: to approach him or not to approach him. In all fairness, I was driving an alien ship, in an alien apocalypse, and I looked like an alien. A normal mind would assume... I was an enemy alien. The second dilemma was, if I approached him, would the mother ships fire at me, or suspect foul play? If they did, that would be the end of both of our fates.

By the time I arrived to the scene, the monster machine above me had already activated her destructive beams. “Motherfuc-” I watched as the man was blasted out of the branches, like a bird shot right out of the sky. His support had snapped sending him abated from the tree. I made a rash decision and pressed a button before slamming the door to my spacecraft open. I threw myself for him; free-falling my way towards the ground. I stretched my hand out and grabbed one of the two cords nictitating in the drizzling breeze. Tugging on the cord, I pulled myself closer and snatched his harness; buckling it to my belt. Unconsciousness manifested the man, which facilitated the panic of our decline. “Here goes nothing.” With a big breath, a loud, high pitched yodel escaped my lips like a desperate mating call. My aircraft, which was stuck-still in the same place I left it, blinked before nose-dipping towards me. Mere seconds before colliding with terrain, the ship scooped under, with and open top, and swallowed both us. The ship piloted calmly to the renewed headquarters and landed inside the tower. For a moment I had lost consciousness. Having crashed into an uncomfortable position, I found myself mingled awkwardly against a hard dashboard interior and the body of a masked mystery man.

[Toxicoid]

PM ME TO CONTINUE!

* Be the Sergeant, or if you have other ideas, contact me.
* Be literate! PLEASE! (lol)
* Be creative. B-tches love creativity. (:

PM ME TO CONTINUE!

[Toxicoid]

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[Toxicoid]

TITLE:

* Diamond in the Rough *

Time: In the near-future, 2046
Setting: Somewhere in the US.
Genre: X-Men, Science-Fiction, Superhuman
Chapters: None

[Toxicoid]

Diamond in the Rough

“Your prisons can't hold me here forever, Detective.” The corner of my mouth pulled to the side of my face mutating into a mocking grimace.

He stared down at me; towering over my seated posture as he tapped the booklet at his fingertips. He slid the binder a few inches on the table, closer to him, still holding his gaze on me. His eyes winced as he flipped the cover of the book and peered at the content. “You're a mutant.”

I almost snorted at his statement. “Really? I hadn't noticed. All my life...” I looked towards the ceiling as a sort of half-eye-roll. My arms were crossed over my chest. It was a stereotypical rebellious teen position, but it seemed suitable in the moment.

Although he didn't, I could tell by the lowered position of his head, and how he was glaring at me with intense eyes, that he was sighing in his mind. “It's written here that you're a 6. That you're dangerous.” He lightly closed the book, placing his palm on it firmly. “But I don't need a file to know that.” He paused, “You're all over the news. You're destructive, you're out of control, and you're clearly slightly psychotic. Though, the real danger isn't what you've done, it's what you can do and are capable of. My problem, Idalia-” People always called me that; I-dahlia. But it's actually pronounced E-da-leah. My facial expression read of annoyance. He took a breath, “My problem, Idalia, is that, as FBI – we have no idea the extent of your mutational abilities. Magneto was a 5. It means he was incredibly powerful – incredibly eradicative.” I shrugged, seeing absolutely no value to the information he was providing. Despite my uncaring position, he continued. “But, we knew the magnitude of his powers. We knew what his mutation could and couldn't do. And most of all, we knew how to control it – how to protect ourselves from it, and how to contain him. You, on the other hand. We don't. Your... competence is annihilative.”

My palms slammed onto the surface of the table. My fuse had been blown. A luminous explosion flared across the area, instantly melting the steel piece of furniture at my hands. Within a second I was squatting on the chair, watching the man as his hairline beaded with sweat from the heat. The table was but a puddle of hot liquid, slowly causing the feet of the chair to soften. Within seconds the chair collapsed, and rather than landing in the lava below me, I leapt to the other side of the small room. Before the aqueous substance could reach his feet, I grabbed the collar of his suit and pulled him backwards. I could see from the corner of my eye that the alarm had been triggered, and the red light was flashing with urgency. I had only a few moments before I would be ambushed. “Magneto once told Professor X over 40 years ago...” The man turned to face me. I looked deep in his widened, terrified eyes, “We are the future. Not them. They no longer matter.” There was a sense of transition in his eyes as he looked at me. It was as if he suddenly understood the language I was speaking.

The doors burst open. A storm of bullets flooded the room. My eyes glowed a piercing blue as my palm raised to form a bubble of atmosphere. The blazing plasma sparkled in mid air before little stars fired like a machine gun; striking each and every bullet to near me. Cannonades of ashes spat out from all directions. 'Don't shoot! Don't shoot!' I could hear him calling behind me as he covered his ears. But the sound of roaring machinery overshadowed his pleas. Among every human I had encounter, he was among the very few who truly understood. He was among the very few who were truly intelligent. Not because he didn't deliberately try to take me down, but because he recognized that by attacking me, they were only digging the holes to their own graves.

Something lead me to grab him. Grasping his firm arm, I pulled him behind me, as if to protect him. “Because there is no land of tolerance. There is no peace. Not here...” I mumbled to him as I disintegrated everything that came towards me with the sheer power of the sun. My hand trailed down his arm, lightly brushing my harsh fingers over the silky coating of his skin. For a moment, I almost held his hand. “...Or anywhere else.” At that moment, my arm extended out towards the door and a blistering solar flare raged forward, like a mist of fuel over a flame, burning everything in its path. Within seconds, there was silence. The concrete walls before me were sheathed in black. A violet haze sizzled in the air. The room was filled in a dazzling aura - its beautiful sparkling light particles contrasting the power of my catastrophe.

[ * * * ]

The Mutant Registration Act had been filed 15 years prior, forcing every mutant, despite their power-rating, to reveal themselves in the eyes of the government and register themselves in the Mutant Database. Mutants would be have their legal files stamped, so that every institution, whether work or school would know they were who they were. Ultimately, those who didn't register would be sentenced 25 years to life in prison or in some extreme cases; death. Every mutant was obliged to wear an identification dog tag on them at all types. If they were stopped by authorities, they had to show their ID or face criminal charges. The MRA would deliberately expose every mutant in the US and across the world and lead to global segregation.

“Detective Rig doesn't remember anything past this shot." He tossed an image across the table. "This investigation is going nowhere! As it has for the last 9 years. We're wasting our time.” The African-American man stood tall as he informed a small FBI crew of the current status of a case. “She was just a child at the time, barely 15. Her abilities were already precise at that young age. It's only reasonable to assume she's more powerful now...” He spoke with a smooth Georgian accent. The men around the table looked over images from the camera. At the bottom right corner was a reminder of the time that had passed: 13/03/2037. Friday the 13th. “We just have to wait... Wait until she comes into market. Plasma weaponry has become recently popular and available. She can create it and manipulate it – this is easy money for her.” He paused, taking a sip from his coffee mug. “For all we know, she could be dead or human again.” He cleared his throat. “I'm putting this case on hold, Agent Grimm.”

In order to combat outrageous laws that placed mutants in scrutiny and in harms way, many mutants formed rebellion groups that neglected the law and opposed the government. Among those groups, many members of the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, and even generations of the X-Men and X-Mansion. As much as Professor Charles Xavier tried to hold peace between mutants and humans – the inhumane manner of the MRA forced any chance of freedom and harmony straight out of the picture. The Silent War had flourished and tension between humans and mutants was at its highest. In order to try and control the mutant population, the Mutant Separation Act passed legislation – requiring mutants and humans to undergo a meticulous division. At first, it was just to divorce human students from mutant students, and obliged mutants to attend mutant school, and humans to attend human school; claiming it would protect mutants from discrimination. Though, the MSA quickly developed into a direct attack against mutants; taking away their right to vote, limiting them to certain employments, and eventually even making it illegal for a human and a mutant to marry.

His eyes drooped and his jaw dropped, “What!? You can't-” He gazed at the man, seemingly irritated from his employment being paused. He cleared his throat, trying to keep a straight face and remain calm. “She's not a registered mutant. If she would have taken the H2 or was given the H2 by any legal institution her file would have come up. She's one of the Most Wanted. I have an investigation because I have leads and proof of her current existence. She's still out there.”

Leading up to the extreme suppression of mutants, the government exposed the new and improved serum to alleviate the X-Gene. The serum was named H2 or Hope2. The original serum 'cure' was titled Hope or the Hope Serum, but it was an option to the mutant society and not mandatory. As well, the original serum was defective, as it just suppressed the gene. Mutant geneticists formed a counter-serum, Xtract, that if taken consistently would revive the X-Gene and return mutant abilities. H2, on the other hand, would completely remove and destroy the gene – leaving the mutant a lasting human. To fray the incredible rise in the mutant disease, statutory law made it mandatory for all those who carry the X-Gene (humans and mutants alike) to take H2 in attempt to permanently remove the genetic disease across the globe. The law had passed the previous year with the idea that it would forever rid the world of mutants. To enforce this law, mutants had until January 1st, 2046 to take the serum. All those who didn't comply would be contained and legally required to take the serum. Those who wouldn't follow regulation would be exterminated.

“Right now, we simply don't have anything. As a US government force, we must be careful where we put our focus. They are all in hiding now, because of H2. They'll submerge, eventually, but not right now.” There was an eerie feel to the now silent environment.
The Agent lightly shook his head and peered downward. All of his time and effort thrown out of the window. “And don't you even think, Grimm, of going looking for her.” Agent Grimm looked up towards his superior, a look of rebellion in his eyes. “Don't give me that look. I know you. You'll go lookin' then you'll find trouble. Lay off this case and lay low. Take a generously paid vacation for the time being. Your time will come.” Despite these strict orders, it was unlikely that he would comply.

An underground investigation begun. Agent Grimm couldn't just sit around and wait. The black market for plasma weapons had exploded in the last decade. Although these weapons were only legal in the hands of military rationale, they had leaked into the system years ago and turned into a blooming business. Just in the last couple of years, it had been deemed more valuable and more in demand than most hallucinogenics and illegal drugs. It's vast popularity caused an increase in crime. Since the government had tossed a handful of undemocratic laws – the economy as well as society had crashed with time.

[ * * * ]

It was a modern fight for survival. Mutants every where were dragooned into non-existence. The H2 blasphemy had already turned hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of mutants into irreversible human form. But there were still many left, though it would appear to the physical eye different. Most would suppress their powers and pretend like they were human or go into complete hiding all together, but I wasn't one of those. I was an idiot, as most called me. I flaunted my powers in the face of human civilization – but only to those worthy of seeing, breathing, and capturing my gift. It was a gift with curse-like actualization, but it was still a gift. And I intended to keep it. “That's all you got?”

Hooch smirked at me; a sort of evil smile that matched his dark demeanour. “You want more?” There was already a suitcase of cash; a lot of it. He paused, looking at me. There was a moment of dry silence where we just stood firm glares at one another. “They say you are the one.” His smirk changed to a lustful smile. Three men stood shoulder-wide behind him. Each one buff, tall, massive-looking men with virtually no expression and no emotion. They each held exactly what I was offering, plasmic machine guns that could blow a hole through almost anything.

I lifted my arm, flailing my index finger up and down. Pointing towards the men behind him and their peculiar guns. “Nothing.” I spat back at him, my words sharp as they came out of my plump purple-lipsticked lips. “I make that.” Admittedly, I shook my head; gazing at him with an expression that screamed 'they are pathetic'. My energy was dominant to his, despite Hooch's violent character and terroristic reputation. I wasn't the least bit scared of him – even though that was what he fed on. I flashed my hands towards them in a sudden, aggressive move as if I were to throw something at them. The three men, like instinct, jolted forward and pointed the guns at me. I started to snicker and lowered my hands – clearly just pulling their legs. “You know what I want.”

He lifted his hand and waved them off. They stood back, giving me the evil eye. He spread his fingers and pulled his hand backwards – leaving an open palm towards his slaves. One of them pulled out a small box and placed it in his hand. Still keeping his stern fixated stare, he placed the box on the table and opened the lid. He emptied the contents of the little black box, spreading it across the table. They were diamonds. Some big, some small, but there were dozens of them. “Show me.” He squawked, his raspy voice harsh against the quietness.

I nodded lightly and held my palm over the table. A purple-pink aurora formed and circled underneath my hand. The aura became brighter and brighter and sparks spat out around it. Miniscule bolts of lightning zapped the diamond below before I firmly shut my hand and eliminated any magic I had just shown. The diamond I had struck was glowing a bright blue flame. I extended my hand again over the diamond and a ball of blue plasma engulfed the mineral, extinguishing the flame and cooling the diamond. I looked back up at Hooch, who had an increasingly disturbing look on his face - as if he had just come across a goldmine of pleasure. Diamonds are the strongest mineral, able to withstand heat over 3000 degrees Celsius without melting. “They're real.” I confirmed, smiling. “Good.”

“So how does this work?” He questioned as he swept the diamonds back into the box. He closed the case of cash and placed the box of diamonds on top of it; pushing the stacked package towards me. “You form the plasma... and I place it in the guns?” I nodded before tapping a large trunk at my side. The volt looked like a mini-fridge but a bit bigger. I opened the front panel to reveal shelves loaded with hundreds of cylindrical casings that glowed a violet blue. Hooch's face brightened. “You replace these with the magnetic chambers that form the plasma on your current guns. The current chambers snap out for ease. These snap in just as easy.” I pointed to them, “But the different is, the chambers currently on your guns take long to regenerate after each plasma blast, and the plasma is not as powerful as mine. My plasma is twice as effective and lasts twice as long, if not longer – because you'll be using less of it.” To my explanation, he started to bat his head. “There are 250 cylinders here.”

“Beautifu-” As he began to speak, there was a loud explosion and the entire room shook. I quickly snatched the briefcase and the box of diamonds; prepared to escape with my end of the deal. He began to scream in German to his security and they scurried off to find the source of the bang. Something was wrong. Just as they started to move a flash grenade rolled on the ground in front of us. I could hear his scream for cover before there was a shocking explosion. The blast stunned all of me as I fell to the floor. The room was spinning but I fought to regain consciousness. My eyes began to glow. A strike of lightning tore open the ceiling and landed in the face of my hand. As if lightning were string, I grabbed a hold of it and shot towards the direction of where the grenade came from. Before I could see who was the attacker, I grabbed my valuables and tossed them through the opening in the roof. There was a light thump as the sealed box and the case landed on the other side of the ceiling. The smoke gave me enough time to quickly jump onto the table, grab the brink of the hole in the ceiling, and pull myself through the roof. Before I could make my escape, something grabbed my ankle. I was being forcibly pulled down.

[Toxicoid]

- This is an X-Men roleplay. It is loosely based on both the films and the comics. Not everything is factual to the series.
- Takes place in the near-future. Please note: Magneto and Professor X (along with most characters) are deceased.
- The starter was designed for the replier to play Agent Grimm, though it is not mandatory. MUST PLAY A MALE, please.
- Other characters that can be played: Detective Rig, Georgian superior, another FBI agent or detective,
another government worker, Hooch, one of Hooch's guards, a mutant, a human, etc. etc. The list can go on. Be creative!
- Please be LITERATE! I do not consider 2 lines literate. I appreciate a couple of paragraphs or more.

* PM TO CONTINUE *

[Toxicoid]

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[Toxicoid]

TITLE:

* Battle Heart *

Time: 1943 - World War II
Setting: German-Occupied Poland
Genre: Historical Fiction
Chapters: None/ One

[Toxicoid]

xxBattle Heart
Babble littered the camp site as a group of women sat uncomfortably on tree logs; encircling a wild dog roasting on a rotisserie. They spoke in a hushed tone, looking over their shoulders every few sentences to verify that others weren't nose-digging into their current hot topic. I wasn't part of the circle, but I didn't need to be to know the context of their conversation. All women were fairly older, raging from early twenties to late forties but they all shared common duties – that of a wife and that of a mother. They took turns cooking and never failed to miss the daily bonfire appointment to gossip. Four years into the war and everyone knew. Everyone. Every city, town, and village across North and South Poland alike knew. The bomb was ticking and each passing day another literal chance with death. That was the unfortunate content of their discussion; Will we be next?

“Stop your chatting...” Blurted one husband, smacking his wife lightly with a folded newspaper, plagued with dirt.

She whipped her head back, quickly snatching the newspaper with an expression of frustration. Flipping the paper open, she waved the front page. “It's all over!” She explained with deep concern. “Minorities of all sorts are being targeted.”

The man shook his head, grabbing the chunk of media from her again. “No. Jews are being targeted. Are we Jews? Hm?” He paused, just barely, before continuing. “No. We're not. So we have nothing to worry about!” He tossed the stack of articles into the open flame. All women watched as it blazed quickly and crumbled with the heat. The man lightly shook his head as he walked away; ike all the rest. It was the men and their mass conspiracy to shield the women from the truth; to prevent panic amongst the general population. But they fooled no one but themselves in thinking we are that stupid.

I pitied those women. And although deeply against cooperative norms, I vowed to never marry; especially not at such a juvenile age. I shuddered at the thought of having kids. Not because I denied the idea of it, but because I simply saw too much life ahead of me before a life of nurture. I had been blessed with a witty father who, whether because he lacked sons or because he chose too, raised me to defend and think for myself. Being the oldest, I learned the most and shared his supplied wisdom. At a young age, I wanted to fight. So, he taught me/ Since we're too minimal to afford guns, or to even need guns, he introduced me to the art of archery and gifted a bow and arrow. I fell in love. Not with the art, not with the bow nor the arrow, but with independence. I had become permanently addicted to liberty.

There was a startling cry that poisoned the air. Everyone's head piqued and eye's searched for the source of the call. One mother stood from the campfire, and as if right out of a movie, erected her arm and finger and screamed, “Syeira!” In complete horror, her young daughter had managed to climb to the height of a tree, and was dangling from a branch that had caught her clothing. She hung like a criminal, her scarf strangling her as it's arm was strongly clipped to a stud of the tree. Her legs wailed bellow her. There was moment of complete insecure; a moment of weakness before, as if a brick to the face, I sprouted to my feet and bolted towards her. “Hold her! Go!” I spat out to the crowd behind me. Three people ran to grab her feet in attempt to counteract her weight, though the distant between their hands and her toes was too great. A sudden burst of energy floored my body into overdrive. In two unnatural monkey leaps, I found myself on the annex holding her from life. “Hang on...” I huffed in a silent attempt to calm my mind. I flung for her struggling arms and snatched it in my palm. Pulling her up into my arms, I sat mounted on the thick tree arm. Trying to keep her from falling, the scarf remained bound around her. I pulled at the band of the shawl to loosen it. A rupture of coarse coughing emerged. Her body shook fiercely as she regained breathing abilities. Holding her, I unwrapped the material and tossed it. Still attached to the tree, the bright-coloured scarf dangled lifelessly below us – a mere duplicate of what could have been Syeira's unfortunate fate.

It seemed like there was barely a moment to breathe before a series of loud popping sounds disturbed the fragile environment. Even a pin drop could be heard at that very moment, as virtually every villager froze in place – a glossy film forming over the delicate eyes of most women, and even some men. My stomach churned as the dying silence of this moment started to cease. The girl in front of me crawled further on the tree branch, sitting down with her calves dangling promptly below her. She was gazing at a man. Slowly squatting up onto the ledge, I did what everyone else did; I waited.

By the sound of their mass and their occasional firing, the distance between us was growing smaller. They quickly emerged from the vast area of forest. They were all in uniform, and gazed upon us with a quiet and dominant intrigue. “What... do we have... here?” The first soldier blurted, a smug grin stretching from the corner of his mouth, closer to his ear. “Gypsies!” My eyes followed my people bellow me. There was an utter silence and certain sensation of unease. The air had becoming suffocating and every Roma, man or woman, displayed deep discomfort and anxiety. The man continued as he approach the fire pit, from which the strange aroma was coming from. “What is Satan's name is that...” At the sight of a canine hosted over an open flame, his left nostril twitched with disgust. “Animals.” He slammed the butt of his rifle right in the face of one of the wives. She flopped over, literally lifeless from the force of the blow. The women beside them mourned at her side. Hissing towards them, he spat, “You're all disgusting animals! All of you!” His cold eyes panned the several dozens of Romani people who now stood agape. “Leave no evidence.” His gloved hand rose as his fingers curled to form a gesture of permission.

The soldiers behind him simultaneously raised their weapons, without thinking twice, bullets quarrelled out. Each gun swayed from right to left, assuring every direction, every angle, and every person would face their evil wrath. Instantly, I snatched the young girl and held her against me. She had nearly fallen from shock. I shielded her eyes with one hand and capped her mouth with the other. I held her tightly in my arms, forcing her into nonexistence. Digging my face into the back of her head I used all of my energy to close my eyes and obstruct the harmony of raging gunfire. The men retreated back into the forest. When it had all terminated, I gazed down; my eyes widening to the sight. A sea of bodies revealed a brutal massacre. There were no remaining. In an effortless battle against a forlorn minority, only the superior are left standing.

There was only one way to go from here – and that was across. “Close your eyes.” Removing my hands, I pulled her scarf over her eyes. “Keep this on until I say you can remove it, OK?” Syeira remained silent, but nearing the age of maturity, she was old enough to understand the reasons why. Gradually manoeuvring both of our bodies to stand on the branch, I calmly hauled her small figure onto my back. Her arms locked around my neck and her legs around my waist. “Hold on...” Slowly, but surely, I climbed down from the tree and landed smoothly on my feet. Carrying her as I ambulated, I tip-toed over the profusion of flesh. My feet rough and bare - darkened by the convention of the Roma life - grazing the blood-stained terrain bellow.

Nearing bonfire and centre of the campsite, we there halfway crossing to the other side; where a waggon horse had miraculously survived. “I hear someone coming...” The tween whispered in my ear. I halted mid-step; my foot hovering a foot over the ground. My eyes scanned the area – all I could see was a mass of brown and green. I crouched down for a moment. Seeing nothing, I continued, quicker this time until I practically flew across the area.

Removing the scarf from her, I mounted Syeira onto the horse after detaching it from the waggon. “Hold on, here.” I handed her the reigns, “Don't look back.” Right before mounting, I stopped. “s**t!” I blurted under my breath, patting my chest, stomach, hips and legs before coming to the realization that I had dropped it. My eyes rushed to the fire, where an shinning pendant lay beautifully in the focal of a flame. Gasping, I whipped by head to each side, searching for any potential enemy presence. Confident of my clearance, I swiftly dove back in; keeping a low stance as I moved with a quick pace. As I lowered to reach the necklace, a dark shadow gloomed over me. A cold barrel pampered the back of my skull. I gripped the gold chain of the pendant firm in my hands, my eyes trailing over to Syeira and the horse; erect and still by the side. I wonder if the killer behind me knew of their actuality. "What are you waiting for?" I bitterly spat in proper German - defeating the leading educational stereotype. There was a partial pause, before the cracking sound of the revolver rang in my ears.

Whatever rational thinking I was capable of somehow disappeared from my mind. In an act of great audacity, I spun around; swinging the heated wampum at him with one hand, while knocking the gun. The thin glass sphere exploded against his firm facial features; its blistering shards causing a substantial painful reaction. The gun set off to the side; striking the mustang in the a** and causing the animal shriek and take off; rocketing deep into the forest. He is left for a single precious moment of gaze. Taking the opportunity, I napped the gun from his hand and in a swift flip, turned the gun on him. I gazed intently down at him, the reflection of the fire saturating my emerald green eyes. A light breeze caressed the waves of my sinuous chestnut hair.

The shattered pendant spun around my wrist as a bracelet and swung smoothly from its brilliant chain. It hung from the same hand. The extremity that dealt the trigger determining a man's life, or resulting in his death. “Serce Bitwa.”

[Toxicoid]

* PM TO CONTINUE *

- Be the man/soldier/Nazi/whatever you can make work (that she's about to shoot).
- Be literate, please. A couple of paragraphs are GREATLY appreciated.
- Please keep in mind the time-frame (WWII - 1943)
- Be creative, spontaneous, and most of all – crazy!

* * *

[Toxicoid]

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