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 Posted: Thu Feb 22, 2007 1:51 am
Logan smirked a casual smirk and plopped down in a chair, folding his hands behind his head. "I love it when it's cold out. Makes my skin all tingly. You come on back anytime, doc. I'll fix you up somethin' special." He returned the wink, then spun in his chair and set to fiddling with a jammed magazine.
Price went to the door and opened it, glancing back once to make sure the others were following him. "We don't have commpieces yet, so try to stay in shouting distance. I hope all of you paid attention in basic on hand gestures, because I may have to use a few over the gunfire. Now let's go rescue one of our few friends in this crazy world."
With that, he headed out the door and directly into an alley. He climbed on top of a dumpster and offered a hand to the closest person. "We go onto the roof and provide fire from there. I'll try to get to the ground once we know what we're dealing with. Hold your fire until I give the order and I don't want to repeat myself. Understood?"
The street two blocks up and three blocks right was where the trouble was. A gang of boys and girls in over adorned leather with automatic weaponry were shooting up a storefront. The storefront had metal shutters in the place of windows, much like Logan's little outpost, except it had a now extinguished neon sign that read "Rich Trade" above the door. The gang appeared to be a part of an older, territorial gang called the Skulls, who had been threatening law and order without regard for anyone but themselves ever since the city was retaken by DE Echo.
Two men without the leathery uniforms of the gang were lying in the street, one face down in a pool of his own blood, the other sprawled in the doorway, as if he had been hit in the chest trying to run out. They wore oil-stained, casual street clothing and green cloth caps with "Rich Trade" on the fronts, suggesting they were two of the workers at the business. The face down man had been clutching a double barrel shotgun, which was now lying unloved on the asphalt street. Five of the Skulls had been dispatched by the defenders, but judging by the lack of returned fire at this time, the people inside were either out of ammo, hiding, or dead.
Coen Price began jogging across the rooftop, trusting his squad to keep up.
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Posted: Wed Feb 28, 2007 12:50 pm
Lucas couldn't surpress the somewhat reassured smile that flitted over his lips as he looked down to remove his gloves and tighten the buckles on his vest. He didn't seem to want the protection over his hands as he lifted the gun off the table. It felt more sensitive to his touch that way, he believed, as he tucked them into his back pocket. Following the others out of Logan's little lair, Lucas immediately snapped to attention as the cold wind nipped at his less-insulated body. He took Price's offered hand in turn, using it to help push himself up onto the dumpster. "Okay," he nodded, showing he understood the order.
Having kept up to a reasonably close distance, Lucas began to slow as the scene came into view. The gang looked just vicious. Lots of gunfire, and clearly a group below. Clutching his gun creation, he jogged to keep up-- harder, until he caught up to Price.
"So, about that plan. As your subordinate, that's fine. As your doctor, can I say I don't approve? They are clearly not underarmed. Haa-ah--" he broke off to take a deep breath, "I can only remove so many bullets!"
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Posted: Sat Mar 10, 2007 3:41 am
((All players; you have two days to send me a private message and inform me that you are active and willing to continue play. If you decide to leave, I will have no hard feelings.))
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Posted: Sat Mar 10, 2007 1:21 pm
((To address [[Ulterior Motive]]'s hiatus, which he is taking in order to preform as a dedicated moderator...))
As Price pulled everyone up the dumpster, he pointed to Jaime. "Wheeler! Secure the gun shop. If those miscreants make their way over here, we could lose more allies than we have to."
Coen jumped a small gap between buildings, so he was now perched on top of the Rich Trade. He waved the others over, inching up to the edge and taking a knee. He grabbed Lucas' shoulder and pulled him to kneeling only a few inches to his right, holding up his other hand for quiet. "I don't intend to get shot any more than I have to, Lucas," He responded in a whisper, "But if someone is getting shot, it should be me."
He squinted down at the sieging gang, releasing the safety on his rifle. "It's too bad we don't have any gas grenades..." He murmured, lining up the sights on a tall gang member with a mohawk, directly in line with the skull emblem around his neck. The bullets in the magazine were the famous JHP shells that gave Logan his scar; they were merciless tools, to be sure.
This would be very, very messy...
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Posted: Sat May 12, 2007 11:19 pm
((Official Notice: Due to inactivity, CZ Gallant is now closed.))
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