Author Topic: Shiver [Closed]  (Read 74 times)

Janus Rogo

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Shiver [Closed]
« on: May 10, 2018, 08:40:49 AM »

When -if- you need to, where do you go to ground?

Hiding is difficult, when you need to do it well. Any average joe can tuck themselves away in the woods, keep their head down, hope for the best. Maybe find a small village on the other side of Remnant, grow a beard, fuck some natives. Hell, they could even stay in the area they're supposed to be avoiding, hide in plain sight. There's a thousand ways to disappear, especially if you're just some face in the crowd.

But a Huntsman? Oh, that's an entirely different ballgame.

You see, it's easy to gloss over normal crimes. Even something as big as murder, if you're a normal person, can be escaped with enough distance. You don't have to worry too much about who's hunting you once you're off the radar. Either you'll survive, or a Huntsman will kick in your door, and there's little you can do at that point. But when a Huntsman is the criminal? Things escalate, rapidly. Responses that would be out of the question for a normal person become valid. Responses like Teams hunting you down, military forces, law enforcement cordons, mercenaries, all of that. A Huntsman stands out, whether they want to or not. They carry themselves differently. They fight differently. If they're smart, they'll keep their gear, so when a response does come, they'll be at least somewhat prepared. Somewhat is subjective, of course, depending on what's coming for you. If an Atlesian Warship bombards your hidey-hole, you're probably only going to be able to do so much.

Mobility is the trick, really. Staying in one place for too long will lead your foes to you, let them find you. If they find you, things get messy. You have to run, or fight. Or run and fight. If you keep from settling down long enough, even as a Huntsman, your pursuers will give up on finding you. You can eventually slow, you can eventually, maybe, even stop. Now, staying mobile can call attention to you, if you do it wrong. The stranger your locale to you, the stranger you seem to the locals. So there's really only one solid place to go to ground.


Janus Rogo was finally slowing down. In the year since he inadvertently helped in a White Fang plot in Vale, he'd been on the run. He had no real way of knowing who had recognized him that day, beyond the fact that he'd been chosen for a reason. A fall guy, if he'd been unlucky or unskilled enough. Who would question the Butcher of Tenang Bay being implicated in another Faunus massacre? Clever, really. Easy, too. And Janus, in all his decades of training, experience, intellect, had immediately taken the bait. Idiot.


He glanced around, making sure no one had heard him. Frigid plains, sparse fauna, and zero people, as far as the eye could see. Well, as far as most eyes could see. Janus could pick out a couple distant storms, little more than small flurries, white mountains, and straight ahead... A small village. No more than twenty buildings. Probably a dozen or so families in it. Old school prefabricated structures had been covered with homely coats of paint, windows were cut into them. Standard non-standard upgrades. Just little touches to make a bleak expanse seem a little more like a warm home. He pulled the coat around him tighter. The Tyrant, stretched into spear form, scraped the ground behind him. It sounded eager, almost. A grating, slow chuckle. Janus banished the thought and pulled the lance up, out of reach of the tundra beneath him. His boots crunched through permafrost, a steady path of prints trailed off behind him, connecting to yet another rinky-dink township. His pack was lighter than when he'd left. Rationed food was running low, ammo wasn't quite as plentiful. Most charged equipment was thoroughly drained. He wiped his face, feeling the days-old scruff on his face. Maybe a nice inn? Hot shower, a shave, quick night's rest? That's usually how things went these days.

His approach to this one was different. No one hailed him, no one tried to search him for weapons or goods, or anything. No one did anything. In fact, near as Janus could tell, no one was standing watch. The town couldn't be deserted, not with lights in the windows. Generators were still running. No signs of combat, either. Everything was intact. An evacuation would see power grids shut off, or a cordon placed if the Military had been involved. Raiders wouldn't have left anything nailed down and he could still see vehicles secured in a garage.

The Tyrant came out, snapping together as he transitioned it into it's rifle form. He slowly ran his hand down the length of the weapon, the sound tickled something in the back of his mind. A little voice saying Grimm. The mercenary grimaced as the thought fled his mind and he smacked the side of the rifle, clearing a chunk of frost from it. With the weapon high in the pocket of the shoulder, he made his approach, sweeping his gaze back and forth. No one- nothing outside. No people, no pets, no signs, just wind and cold. He shivered, then stepped off to what seemed a family domicile. A thermal lamp hung from the front of the structure, under it, a few plants spun in the outside air, not enough to eat off of, but enough to use in spices or decoration. Homely.

A quick look through the entry's portal didn't show any movement, nothing responded when he knocked on the door. Annoyed, he spun the rifle around and smashed the handle off, booting it down the street. He shouldered the rest of the way through the door with ease. Metal snapped and twisted as he walked in. The heat was still on. No signs of struggle and as he took in the family room, he noticed an old shotgun laying on the mantle, unused. He frowned and continued through the house. A dining area, a bedroom, a closet, another bedroom, a- oooh. Janus stopped. He stood at the entrance to the bathroom. Toilet paper, hot water, fluffy towels! Forgetting himself, Janus leaned his rifle inside the shower, shed the armor and clothing, and ran the water onto full heat.

It was glorious.
« Last Edit: May 10, 2018, 09:59:39 AM by Janus Rogo »


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Re: Shiver [Closed]
« Reply #1 on: May 17, 2018, 02:20:42 AM »
A faint rumbling could be heard in the distance, at first subtle over the sound of running water, but as it gets closer, can be identifiable as an engine, specifically the supercharged V8 of a muscle car. Amane was on one of her missions as usual - Iris required a specimen with certain properties to produce a cure for some illness and she was going to get it. After searching through the personal journal of an explorer from a time long past which she discovered on one of her previous missions, she came upon a promising species of fungus with the exact properties they were looking for. Problem was, it was a unique type only said to grow in a cave at the mountains in sight of the village. Night is definitely not the best time to go searching there, so coming across a nicely lit village, she decided to wait for morning here.

Immediately feeling something was wrong when nobody was there at the entrance, Amane parks her car to the side and gets out. Grabbing her rifle, she approaches with caution, ready to immediately act if her aura gets tingly.

Silenced Automatic Rifle (Armor-Penetrating Rounds: 20/20 + 60)
Desert Eagle (.50 AE Ammo: 7/7 + 7)
Silenced Five-SeveN (Ammo: 20/20)
HE Throwing Stars: 3/3
Incendiary Grenade, Smoke Grenade, Flashbang
Spoiler: Backpack • show
Climbing gear, various equipment/supplies for collecting lab samples, flares, compact multi-tool (pliers, tweezers, awl, wire cutter, various shape screwdrivers, coarse and fine files, scissor, can opener, serrated blade, bottle opener), compass, flashlight, duct tape, steel wire, pens, notepad, lighter, water purification tablets, mirror, thermal blanket, lockpick set, compact parachute, first aid kit, bobby pins, two tourniquets, scroll and earbuds, water bottle, gas mask, portable signal booster, shoulder-mounted advanced navigational device
Spoiler: Car • show
Bag of pretzel bites, juice boxes (12-pack), instant ramen (6-pack), dust-powered kettle, plastic jar of grinded coffee beans, French press, spare AP-round magazines (ammo box of eight), reinforced case of spare Dust canisters (6 Kinetic, 6 Fire), spare grenades (2 of each), an eighth of private reserve marijuana, bong.
« Last Edit: May 17, 2018, 02:34:41 AM by Inexhaustive »
Explorer / Beacon First Year / Entry Fragger of Team CASA: Amane Petrichor - "Win your battles before they're fought."


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Re: Shiver [Closed]
« Reply #2 on: May 17, 2018, 03:43:40 AM »


Sasha Dahlia. A rather unremarkable girl in an unremarkable Atlesian outpost. Every day, she would help her parents in maintaining their dwelling, keep with her studies, and assist in maintaining the outpost's most integral lifeline; the lone CCT Subtower that stood at the outpost center. While Nebu hadn't expected such a small congregation of buildings to be bustling with activity, she had most certainly expected more people present than the big fat zero that she had currently taken note of. One wouldn't expect finding a teenage girl out of a predominantly male village of some... twenty odd names to be all that difficult.

But alas, here she stood, browsing system records of an all but abandoned outpost in the middle of buttfuck Atlas territory.

Whatever these villagers' reasons for leaving was, they sure seemed to have forgotten any sort of protocol. Lights had been left on despite a lack of occupants, the tower remained active despite a lack of operators, water and power were still being directed to the structures...

To be frank, Nebu wasn't keen on sticking around much longer, but a part of her maintained a curiosity about the place. This didn't seem like an evacuation. There were no signs of panic, all vehicles she had come across were in passable condition and parked within the vicinity of the owner's home, though a few were covered in snow, and any peek through the windows showed that the houses hadn't been relieved of their possessions. It was as though the villagers had just disappeared.

So then... Where was Sasha?

As much as the unexplained disappearance of the outpost's occupants had piqued her concern and curiosity, she couldn't exactly finish her mission without confirmation that Sasha, among the others, had disappeared. The chances of her inevitably empty handed return being seen as acceptable were slim as it was, and this wasn't a trip she wanted to make more than once. The air outside was cold enough to warrant a winter jacket over the RA suit, a decision she silently thanked herself for with every passing moment. A chilled sigh escaping her lips, Nebu strode off in the direction of Structure 12, pausing when her foot connected with something small, round, and not made out of snow. Her brow furrowed as she picked up the doorknob, her destination barely twenty yards away. The door seemed to have been broken through rather recently, judging by the trail of footprints that lead up to the door. Her left hand inching toward the pistol  at her hip, Nebu cautiously strode forward, pausing at the doorway when she heard the sound of running water.

So there were people still around here.

After a moment's consideration, Nebu strode in, her posture relaxing as she allowed the suit's helmet to collapse back into the armor, and her thumb hooked on her pistol's grip as she absentmindedly inspected the dwelling.
Juno Vert: 1st year student of Beacon, Armored leader of Team VCVS

Phi: #007ba7

Nebu Nekhbet: DUAT unit 01: Desegnation RA

Nebu/Rho: #FFD700

Austin Vartra: TBA


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