Welcome to Gaia! ::

(( Yeah, none taken Sonny. Sort of creepy, sure, but yeah. lol ))

Korie followed Larry to the portal, listening to him talk to her as if she was just some little kid tagging along for the ride. Well, maybe that was just because he used the term kid, but still. When they arrived at the door, Korie's eyes narrowed as he finished speaking.

"I'm as loyal as a police hound, of course I'll back you up. Nothing is more disgusting than a lying backstabber," she replied, as she shifted her weight to one foot and crossed her arms. "I'm with you on this all the way, as long as this mission takes."

.: surprised oc::. Hello Mishaps. I know, I'm quite absent as of late, but it's just as Kairin said, I got this new internship so I have barely anytime to myself naymore. But, seeing as it's labor day weekend, I can get on Gaia to finish my deal of the bargain for dear sick Xin. And that is to post the rp version of the winning announcement.
~!~!!~!~!~!!~!~


"Slow our movement for a moment Rubiks. I have a quick matter to take care of. It appears we finally found someone other than him to take the vice commandership."

Ryanna turned her back away from the two. Xinrie would have probably started blabbing about who it would be if she hadn't given her that can of RedBull. Pulling back her stolen pirate's sleeve, Ryanna began to type in a quick message. The watch had been vibrating a few moments ago. Back from when Ike had sent her that message about his choice and what the other's seemed to want.

And even though, she was rather busy with this 'retreival'; Multi-tasking was essential for a commander. After pressing the black button on the right side of the watch, the message was sent off. It would cause the other mercenaries communicators, which came standard upon acceptance into the group, to rumble and then scroll her message across the screen in the ever familar red font she always used to indicate that it was her message and command.

'Dear Mishaps, this message is to congradulate Captain GroundWalker, for he has now been promoted to Vice-Commander Status. Captain Ace, is to be third in command should anything happen to GrounWalker. I thank you all for participating in this time of need. And I will be back from this mission soon. I wish Groundwalker the best of luck.'

ooc: I've got the member list updated, contact me if you see any problems with it, And yes I am horrifically sick with strept throat right now. So I won't be able to finish the triple rping until later this week when I feel better, but hopefully I'll have it completed by Mid-September. Whereupon things will return to normal and I'll be completly active again on gaia with frequent updates and whatnot :]

Oh And Groundwalker, if you ever need new missions to be posted, PM me. And I'll get on that. But what I need now, is for everyone to tell me what mission they are currently assigned so I can fully update the member list. Thanks~

((Thanks everyone for voting! Snake, if you want to jump in as a GM anytime, just go ahead. Third doesn't mean that much different from second, even when first is away. Xinrie, the guild has a handy what's-going-on thing which should make updating the front page easier, although I haven't updated since page 231. Still, everyone who is active is on it, although their tasks are a little different.

Oh, and Snake? I love the line on IC/OOC confusion. Exactly what I was thinking.))

Various halls, MMHQ

"You're expecting trouble from the Uroboros." It was a statement, not a question. "I'll have a group ready in twenty minutes. We'll meet in conference room B again. See you then." Joel left Requiem just as the announcement went out over the intercom.

What the - Kin, what did you do to my contract? he wondered. He wasn't sure what the details were, but he'd bet that a vice commander was very similar to a captain, only with more equipment, more people relying on him, and less running off on his own to beat up violent monks with his bare hands. Couldn't say he'd miss that last part. With that settled for the moment, he considered the upcoming job.

If there wasn't the possibility of hostile forces, the job would be easy. Someone would go out and grab this magic sword, with another guy to cover him if anything went wrong. With competition in the area, it was still a good plan, only they would need more backup. The next question was, who was around who could function as a support team? The answer was as obvious as the voices up ahead.

Joel walked up to Outai and Martin. He stopped a few paces away and looked at them. The woman, for no apparent reason, wore a mask. She would be the dangerous one, by his guess. The boy just looked lost. "Judging by her katana," he pointed, "I'm guessing you two are applying to be mercenaries? I'm Groundwalker. I can take your applications."

Spider raced the car up the hill.
OOh, it was a nice car. huge, white convertible, with a myrad of multicolored lights on the dashbord.
"Bad, bad case of the hillibillies!", he mumbled into the microphone in his glasses. He had shaven just this morning, and jet his skin felt like an army of fireants having a picknick.
In addition to the itching, which told him a couple of more things, the shadows from the trees created interesting patterns on his skin. basically, by interacting with his various tatoos....
"Oh, you vicious SWINE!", he hollered and slapped his flat chest wildly, the convertible screeching and screaming, while the tires tried to escape their natural bounds. The shadows they where eating HIM!

A few minutes later, as he had thrown in a handfull of vicaden, he grinned through a slight mist that began covering the streets. OOh, the special view. beautifull, beautifull peoiple, all in white, standing on the sideline....
one tip against his glasses, and he was recording, the camera taking in the pictures of stained ectoplasm.
"My previous trip got thundered. Now, I am in a mission for Bob, finding out where that nice kid went that gave me the glasses. really, really bad vibes.
My present location is safely tucked away in some part of my brain, under a mountain of multicolored uppers, downers, sreamers and laughers. Maybe this would be a good time to remind the people that from this point on, I am no longer responsible for what I am raving.
So, an update on my status...."
he paused for a minute, only to take a sip out of the bottle of wild turkes he had on his passengers seat. Then, he took one of his cigarettes, lit it, and put it in his mouth.
"Wonderfull way of going down. The appartment burned down, when the lizzard people finally discovered that the choclate was in an other shoe than mine. beach tried to mate with one, which prolly killed him...."
in the backseat of the convertible, something was moving, and a second later the twofaced feline raised its ugly head.
He passed the smoke behind himself, and lit an other one.
"anyways, since I wore my special tin foiul underpants, they refused to rectal probe me, and said I should seek for some more truth. Amazing, what 6 million years in a spaceship can do..."
grabbling in the ashtray, he took out an other handfull of multicolored pills, and swallowed them.
"Anyways, thanks to the whorehopper, your favorite doctor of yournalism is on the run again. There is just one place we can be sure not to get followed is the company of mercenaries our little friend had mentioned. Nice kid, good shape of the skull. "
He shivered a bit, as the car crushed a deer under its mighty wheels. Blood was a b***h to clean, but it did not mind.
"have already told them that I am coming, so they should be prepared. the ******** swines seem to be sleeping, so I only had to deal with the manta rays. "
He shook his head, and grinned
"I feel a bit light headed. The uppers have kept me awake for 72 hours, all in the pursuit of the united stated nightmare, of finding the absolute truth in the worst heap of deceit possible. anyways, new additions to the party pack purchased today. 400 grapes, 2 kilos of mescaline, some more peyote, and some nyquil. Damn, these are good pills.
I guess I will arive in the morning. these people better be prepared to properly welcome a doctor of yournalism. well, lets see whzat the radio does. ..."
His hand slowly moved to the radio.
"TaKe Me ToYoUr LeAdEr!"
His view flipped away from the street toward the radio, which looked at him with black teeth.
"Holy s**t! A black radio!"
He took of his shoe, and started to beat the living hell out of his teeth, the car swaying dangerously.
very bad vibes, he thought, as the radio had complied, and played some johnny cash. This better be worth the panic.
In his rear view mirror, he saw the cat eating the rest of the cigarett, including the but.

Fine, at least one of us has his fun, so it might as well be you.

The guard standing on the cornerstone smiled. It had not allways been that good. Now, as a guardpost fopr mishaps, he was practically payed to stand around, looking menacingly. Nobody noticed his recceding hairline, and his hairloss, thanks to a really nice helmet, he was allowed to carry the biggest gun he wanted, nobody cared if he took it out in his free time to shoot at a few of the birds that seemed to love the desolate place in the mountains. He even had the impression that stacy from the kitchen area had an eye for him.
Dreamy, he stood on one foot, closed his eyes, and slowly leaned backwards. Here, in the relative safety of the farest entrance to the base, he was allowed to doze off sometimes. His friend had even gotten one of the techs from trhe inside to sell him one of their portable TV's, so he could watch his beloved soaps.

The world went black.

As he reccieved a light signal again, the guard, Jonathan Smith, was rather surprised to find the person standing, holding him up and looking up to him able to talk. The guys pupils where as small as pinheads, tghe corners of his mouth where foaming purple bubbles, and that stuff that guy was screaming....
Not enough that the guy had managed to drive the white convertible over the guard-fence, in a kind of stunt he knew only from vartious shows on cable acess, no, this bald, tatooed guy apparently raved on about how the ghosts of nixon where right behind him, and how he needed to hide immediatelly.
Surprisingly, the guy seemed no harm at all. Frantically unloading cartons of grapefruit, a very smelly cat, and an old typewriter, he simply seemed not to care if anybody took notice of him.
Tompson, the other guard, made the mistake of trying to search the guy for weapons, only to find the guy fully cooperative. He had pulled out something remarkably alike an electric shaving machine, pointed it at Unlucky Tompson, and fired it. At first, nothing had been visible, only a surprised look on the guys face, but then
"Jeasus jumping christ!", Tompson hollered, and with a long and complicated series of farts, accompaigned by a surprised look on his face,
Tompson exploded in a torrent of violent diarreah.
Which was rather unlucky, because to get out of the mishaps amor, he needed at least 20 minutes. It was quite a view, he had to admit, pressing the send button in his helmet, masses of brown gushing out of the pants of the kevlar reinforced jumpsuit, the full visor helmet slowly filling up like something out of the saturday morning comics.....
"This is Mishaps HQ, I got you clearly on the screen..."
The voice was firm and slightly deep, which kept his attention where it belonged. He liffted the weapon, and let his weapon camera follow the movements of the stranger, who took the weapon and fired it hollering in the air, scaring away birds and small critters.
He could hear the woman on the other end breath heavily.
"Smith, who the heck is that lunatic, and why the hell is he firing a lethal weapon?"
He sighed. Problems....
"Ma'am, that guy drove in, apparently unloaded his car, and wanted to show how the weapon worked. As far as I know, it makes ones bowel movements increasi.... it rele..... Ah dam, pardon my language, but it makes you s**t yourself and barf a lot. "
He moved the cam over to the other guard, who had just taken off the helmet. The stink was overly matured.
"damn, " said the woman on the other end. "so we can't nail him with assault with a deadly weapon. Bring him to the holding cells..."
The holding cells, he thought, as he straightened the weapon, and watched the man scream and fire his weapon in the air. An other thing that he did not want top fully understand. Basically, the rooms just appeared after t5he great attack of the guys in mechs and such, along with complete metal lining, and much advanced security, along with complex training lessons for the guards. He sighed.
"Perrhjaps them mexicans did it... bet they could not pay a decent american worker in this godforsacen place..."
He removed his helmet, and just in the last instance managed to duck.

he now understood the pattern. All the animals who the madman shot had the same pattern. s**t, then flight. This one animal that came swooshing down didn't.
In a second, his gun was up, and he fired. The kickback nearly broke his shoulder, but the projectile hit the object like a good flak-gunshell. it exploded, and the charge brought it down. heavily, it came to a halt before the feet of the druggie, who just picked it up, and looked at it.
Then, the druggie spoke. It was now that he realised that this man was higher then the empire state building. His vocals where slurred, and he managed to go through the full tonal shift in a few seconds, multiple times.
"YOU GOD DAMN SWINE! DID NIXON SENT YOU?HMM?"
He viciously shook the charred remains of this half machine half du8ck bird, then looked it in the eyes again, this time with a smile.
"Thought you could fool a damn doctor of yournalism, did ya? well, I got news for you. My mind is so ******** crooked I sometimes watch myself do the dishes when I am four blocks away taking a decent meal like the honest american I am! You god damn robotic immigrants, you have no faith in the quintessential paranoia of the great white nerd!"
The man watched the fight go on a few more seconds, then, he deccided to cough politely.
Immediately, the guy looked around, and threw the duck-remains away, locking eyes with him. Then, he smiled in a very dangerous way.
"Why, why are you smiling this way? I am not hostile..."
he held up his weapon, this time pointed for the bare belly of the guy.
"OOOh, not at all. I amk just admiring the delicious quality and superb form of your skull. "
Suddenly, the guy jumped forewards, his face raised in a mask of anger.
"AAAAA, you are an agent of nixon too! I suspected it all away, since your face has written christianity all over it! DID OR DIDNT you drop LSD with the nazi sheperds in paris?"
He was to shocked to pull the trigger. This guy was higher then a kite!
Slowly, he raised his gun, and immediatelly, the guy relaxed.
"Sir, I had nevcer any contact with them germans, nor did I ever do any drugs. But I know a place in the cellar where it is really cool and easy to do...."
After that, he hade been able to lure that drug fiend and his ugly kitty into one of the special holding cells, only to find that the 1,60 meters small man in his black suit was apparently heavily tatooed, and on the binge of insanity.
After that guy had shot himself a siringe of whatever foul drugs he had straight in his jugular vein, and one smaller one full of a neon green liquid straight in the tearducts, the question of a personal search was quickly dropped. Nobodyas liked to reach into the pockets of drugboy, not knowing which spikes and blades waited for unsuspecting fingers and veins.
And finally, a smile crossed his face as he saw the application to be a mercanery, which that lunatic had pulled out of his jacket like some kind of magician.
Smith allways new it, the loonies on the inside of the base where as bad as the ones on the outside, but what was worse was that they seemed to attrackt each other. He sent a copy of it in the intranet, hoping that a superior officer of mishaps would surely come by and talk to that loonie bin and his smelly, twofaced cat.