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 Posted: Fri Dec 22, 2006 9:37 am
wahmbulance THE APOLLO ENDEAVOR wahmbulance In the year 2417, the Galactic Mergence, a confederacy of seven allied alien nations, faces its most dangerous threat in all-out galactic war. The opposing army, the murderous and the ruthless Psyark race, will stop at nothing to destroy the peaceful truce of the seven worlds, seeking nothing but chaos and domination as a result of their horrible brutality. Little does the Galactic Mergeance know things are about to get much worse. Only a week after the first battle, The Exalted, leader of the vicious alien race, announces that the Psyark have begun construction of a plasma-fueled weapon powerful enough to obliderate any one of the individual planets in the Galactic Mergence. With their troops scattered across the galaxy and their forces spread thinner than air, the Galactic Mergence must raise a special task force with the few warriors that remain on their planets to create a squadron powerful enough to penetrate the Psyark defenses and smart enough to destroy, or perhaps even steal the weapon of mass destruction held in the hands of their most dangerous enemy.
The project, codenamed The Apollo Endeavor by its benefactors, is, without doubt, a last ditch effort and most likely a suicide mission for those involved. The Galactic Mergence know there is little chance that such a futile attempt could possibly succeed, but those involved have either nothing to lose or no other choice. One way or the other, the fate of every living soul in the Galactic Mergence relies on the men and women listed in The Apollo Endeavor.
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Posted: Fri Dec 22, 2006 9:41 am
wahmbulance ABOUT wahmbulance The Apollo Endeavor follows the lives of the individuals involved in the story's namesake, a project involving the members of seven alien races who have either been recruited from Galactic Mergence military bases, drafted by the inter-planetary government, or released from prison sentences to serve their confederacy.
In this RP, you'll get the chance to play as either a set "canon" character (*coughcough* Guess who they are *coughcough*) or a personalized character from your own choice of demographic or background, as a member of one of seven possible races. Each race has its own distinct heritage or traits that has the potential to alter the story drastically. wahmbulance RULES wahmbulance - Follow guild rules
- Language is perfectly fine, but don't just go overboard for the hell of it
- No sex, though flirting, kissing, and slutty people can be tolerated
- DO NOT POST IF IT IS NOT PART OF THE STORY OR YOU HAVE NOT BEEN ACCEPTED YET. If you have questions or comments, just PM them to me with the title "The Apollo Endeaver" or "Apollo" somewhere in the subject
- The story's supposed to be in omniscent third person, so please don't start any characters in first person. That'd get really confusing
- Please be literate. Just write your stuff in a word document, then spell check. REALLY not that hard. Oh, and punctuation is your friend
- You can use other people's non-NPC characters in your sections and even let them use dialogue, but you can't make them say anything or do anything that will alter the main writer's plan. It's probably better to just leave them out if they're not absolutely necessary unless you want to get another writer really pissed at you
- Keep flashbacks to a minimum and try to avoid any jump in present time if someone else is writing something that goes along with the current setting or date. This goes double if they leave it at a cliff hanger. Unless your character is in the same situation and your section picks up right where the other person's left off, DON'T JUMP THE CLOCK
- Please keep it serious. Comic relief is okay, but this is a serious story, not a comedy
- You CAN kill off your own character, but not others. If you want someone elses character to die, you must discuss it with them and come to an agreement. Also, if you kill off your character, you'll have to be pretty persuasive to convince me to let you start another character. You can, however, probably take over the role of one of the NPCs
- You are allowed to have up to two characters, though I'd prefer that at least one of them be one of the designed "canon" characters instead of two OC
- DO NOT POST ANOTHER SECTION FOR THE SAME CHARACTER UNTIL THERE ARE AT LEAST THREE SECTIONS AFTER YOUR MOST RECENT SUBMISSION wahmbulance NOTES wahmbulance These aren't really rules, but they're things you should be aware of.
- I will be saving this story to a word document as it is writen, but I will give everybody who participates the credit they deserve
- Show courtesy to your fellow writers. If they end their section at a major cliffhanger, let them or somebody they've planned it out with follow it up so they can convey the effect they were trying to communicate
- I'll say it again: DON'T DISRUPT THE FLOW OF THE STORY WITH COMMENTS UNLESS YOU ACTUALLY SAY THAT YOU ARE GETTING OUT OF CHARACTER. PLEASE
- Please make your sections at least moderately long. If you're not sure what I consider "moderately long", I'll give you some examples (NOTE: none of this is actually part of the story)
This is a short section (a no-no)Quote: Bob looked over the ridge. "Do you see anything?" Drak asked, gun shaking in his hands. "It looks clear," Bob murmured, sliding his own weapon back into the holster on his waist. Drak let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God. I almost thought -" Drak never got the chance to finish his sentence. Before he speak another word, a set of sadistic, gore-slathered claws tore into his stomach from above. He let out an ear-piercing scream as his innards were torn to shreds.
Now this is about the shortest you can get away with:Quote: Bob looked over the ridge. "Do you see anything?" Drak asked, gun shaking in his hands. "It looks clear," Bob murmured, sliding his own weapon back into the holster on his waist. Drak let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God. I almost thought -" Drak never got the chance to finish his sentence. Before he speak another word, a set of sadistic, gore-slathered claws tore into his stomach from above. He let out an ear-piercing scream as his innards were torn to shreds. Bob's hand flew to his side, grabbing for the grip of his gun, but by the time he'd drawn it and released the safety, Drak's mangled body was gone. All that remained of him was a scarlet streak of blood and body fluids smeared up against the wall where his corpse had been dragged by the psyark. The trail disappeared into the darkness of the rafters, but Bob could hear the creature breathing in the darkness above him. He held his weapon at the ready, slowly raising the end of the rifle to aim the flashlight on its body into the darkened recesses of the cave. Immediately, he wished he hadn't. Black, beady eyes staring down at him, eyes filled with animalistic rage and a murderous light, the psyark drone hung from the ceiling, the talons on its hind legs holding it to the roof as its forelimbs clutched Drak's carcass. It took Bob a second to realize that Drak's body had actually been ripped in two, but when a segment of the marine's intestines fell down onto the ground in front of him, he felt his breathing stop in sudden shock. The drone hissed, baring its glistening, blood-lathered teeth at him. Without even taking a second to aim, Bob let out a thunderous roar and pulled the trigger on his rifle. Instantly, a torrent of bullets exploded from the firearm. The majority of the gunfire struck harmlessly against the cave walls, but at least a fourth of the salvo hit its mark. The drone shrieked in pain, dropping its prey and falling to the ground. Blue-black blood spilled from the bullet holes riddled across its skin and it writhed in the final throes of death. Staring at the creature, gun clutched loosely in his quivering hand, Bob watched as the drone twitched one last time before finally going still. Even in the cold, damp darkness of the cavern, he could feel hot sweat rolling down his neck. That could have been him. If they had been standing two more feet to the left, that would have been him.
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Posted: Fri Dec 22, 2006 9:42 am
wahmbulance CAST wahmbulance MAIN CHARACTERS Bob BryarAge: 25 years
Race: Human
Background: Framed for the murder of his wife and unborn child, Bob has spent the last three years of his life in the Outreacher Lunar Penitentury, serving out a five-year sentence until the scheduled date of his execution. However, when a messenger from the Galactic Alliance's UCM (United Confederacy of Militaries) comes to offer him a full pardon in exchange for a lifetime of service, he finds himself unable to pass up on the offer and winds up enlisted in one of the most dangerous military schemes ever devised.
Physical Attributes: 5'10", blonde hair
Picture: x
Played By: ghostmelody~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Frank IeroAge: 25 years
Race: Human
Background: [waiting for an actor]
Physical Attributes: 5'4", black hair
Picture: x
Played By: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Kari M'SonaAge: 17 years (22)
Race: Kree
Background: Born on Solstice, homeworld of the Kree race, Kari M'Sona grew up surrounded by seven brothers and no sisters. Because of her father's military position, her brothers were constantly trained in the art of war, but because of her race's traditions in education, Kari was denied such teachings. Instead, she learned second-hand by watching her brothers practice and she herself developed to be a greater warrior than any of them. Kari came to live on Earth when she turned fifteen and broke away from her family, who had forsaken her as their child because of her refusal to follow the customs of her people.
Physical Attributes: 6', brown/golden hair
Description: Shoulder-length brown hair tinted red, yellow-green iris, golden hair on body, brown hair on wrists and ankles
Played By: ghostmelody~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Miori SatsukasAge: 28 years
Race: Human
Background: Miori's parents died in a horrible accident when she was younger. From then on, she went from foster home to foster home until she was eighteen, when she joined the Apollo Endeavor. She is quiet and anti-social.
Physical Attributes: 5'5", black hair
Picture: x
Played By: DianaUchiha~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ray ToroAge: 29 years
Race: Human
Background: [waiting for an actor]
Physical Attributes: 6'1", brown hair
Picture: x
Played By: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Gerard WayAge: 29 years
Race: Human
Background: [waiting for an actor]
Physical Attributes: 5'7", bleached hair
Picture: x
Played By: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mikey WayAge: 26 years
Race: Human
Background: [waiting for an actor]
Physical Attributes: 5'9", brown hair
Picture: x
Played By: MINOR CHARACTERS Masa H. BryarAge: 21 years
Race: Human
Background: Born on the farming colony of Espara, Masa Hiomech came to Earth at the age of 7 with her parents and extended family to make a better living in the large cities of the planet than in the fields of their homeworld. She met Bob Bryar in college and the two were wed only a few years later, when Masa was 20 and Bob was 21. She then traded her maiden name for his family name and the title of Hiomech became her middle name.
Physical Attributes: 5'6", black hair
Description: Prominent slender cheekbones, angular nose w/ slight crook in the bridge, narrow eyes w/ moss green iris, long, thin waist-length black hair, 9 months pregnant
Played By: NPC~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ If you're interested in joining, just send me a PM with the following information filled out:
Quote: Screenname*: (your display name on this site) Name*: (of character in story) Age: (in human years, which I can easily convert to fit the age in another species' years) Race: (what species is your character?) Background*: (your characters past or backstory) Physical Attributes: (color of hair, eyes, height, etc. - only the most prominent of features) Picture: (a link to a reference picture of your character; this section can be replaced by a "Description" section if you find yourself unable to locate a suitable picture) *If you're playing a canon character from the already-given characters, you only need to fill in these three sections
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Posted: Fri Dec 22, 2006 9:44 am
wahmbulance RACES wahmbulance There are countless races throughout the universe of this story, creating a rich variety of characters and beings to enhance the depth of the story. This post contains an archive of all mentioned races, kept as up-to-date as possible with the flow of the story.Pronunciation Key:
lower case letters = short vowels
UPPER CASE LETTERS = long vowels
Examples: idea (I-DE-uh), space (SPAS), planet (pla-net), cosmos (koz-MOS) The Galactic Mergence Humans
(HU-manz) Appearance: Bipedal, mammalian creatures with varying colors of earth-toned hair on their scalps. Skin colors range from pale peach to dark, almost coal-like black. Average heights vary between genders, with males usually being the taller, but the average of a grown member of the species is usually somewhere between 5' and 6'
Planet: Earth
Life Expectancy: 85 yearsKree
(KRE) Appearance: Bipedal, feline creatures defined by their spotted fur of varying colors. Tufts of fur grow from their wrists and ankles, always a darker shade than that which covers their bodies. Average heights vary between genders, with females usually being the taller, but the average of a grown member of the species is usually somewhere between 5'8" and 7'
Planet: Solstice
Life Expectancy: 65 yearsOuraset
(yur-uh-set) Appearance: Towering, bipedal mammals easily identified by the extra set of limbs that grow beneath their principle arms. Hairless, and skin color is usually a dark shade of brown or tan. The average height is the same for both genders, usually somewhere between 7' and 8'6"
Planet: Ranomo
Life Expectancy: 135 yearsVestara
(ves-taw-ruh) Appearance: Quadipedal, avian creatures with massive, encompassing wingspans. Feathers are in a range of pastel blues, greens, and indigos. Stance is similar to that of the mythilogical griffin of human culture. Average heights vary between genders, with females usually being much larger. Males are typically 4' on all fours, 8'6" on hind legs, and a wingspan of 25'. Females are lankier and usually 6' on all fours, 13' on hind legs, and a wingspan of 35'.
Planet: Charity
Life Expectancy: Male-50 years, Female-70 yearsKasir
(ka-SER) Appearance: Bipedal, insectoid creatures very similar to Earth's praying mantis'. Carapaces are usually a tan or savannah color. Hierarchy is set up in a hive-like system, though single members have much more individual sentience than a common drone. As such, there are a thousand times as many males as females. Males are, on average, between 5'6 and 6'6. Among the females, there are two different species, known as Commoners and Royalty. Though both are rare, the size and appearance difference is tremendous. While female Commoner Kasir are about 6' tall on averare, a female Royal Kasir walks on all six legs, yet can grow as tall as 23'.
Planet: Carthagus
Life Expectancy: Male-15 years, Female Commoner-15 years, Female Royal-200 yearsMeiskidar
(MA-ski-dar) Appearance: Bipedal, reptilian creatures identified by their moss green skin, three-fingered hands, horns, and single eye. Anatomy is similar to that of a human, though the usual meiskidar is much shorter than its Earthly counterpart. Average heights vary between genders, with males usually being the taller, but the average of a grown member of the species is usually somewhere between 3'6" and 4'9"
Planet: Swalo
Life Expectancy: 45 yearsLethans
(le-thanz) Appearance: Bipedal, winged mammilian creatures with an appearance similar to Earth's bats. Hairless, skin is dark gray or black. The average height is the same for both genders, usually somewhere between 5' and 5'6"
Planet: Shrine
Life Expectancy: 90 yearsEnemy Races Psyark
(SI-ark) Appearance: There are three different beings of the psyark species, each with a different size and shape.
- Drones: Bipedal, reptilian creatures that switch between two legs and four legs to fit the situation. Skin is a dark, murky green and, while the creature is reptilian, its skin has a closer to similarity to that of an amphibian. Average height rests somewhere between 6' and 8'
- Commanders: Bipedal, reptilian creatures with a stance similar to their drone underlings. However, while drones are scrawny, almost skeletal in appearance, commanders are much more muscular and densely built, as well as being larger and equiped with many more natural weapons (fangs three inches long, four claws on each hand, claws similar to that of an Earth velociraptor on hind legs). Average height of a grown commander usually ranges from 12' to 15'
- Queens: The eighteen-legged, four-armed queens of the psyark hierarchy bear an appearance that appears to be a cross between the body of an Earth centipede and their underlings in the psyark race. Skin is a darker green than their underlings, tinted to the point where it is practically black. The average height of a grown queen is between 20' and 30'.
Planet: Drakis
Life Expectancy: Drone-10 years, Commander-25 years, Queen-640 years
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Posted: Fri Dec 22, 2006 9:46 am
wahmbulance Misc. wahmbulance This post will hold a lot of things forgotten in the first one. Things will end up being added to this constantly, so check back every so often for updates.CONTESTS None at the moment
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Posted: Fri Dec 22, 2006 2:02 pm
Saturdays were the greatest. Saturdays had always been the greatest. With his shift at the docks ending at 9:00 PM on Friday's, he never really felt like he'd escaped the workweek until Saturday morning. Today's Saturday, though, was one of, if not the, greatest Saturday of his life. The gleaming cityscape of glass and steel reflected a warm glow over the rooftops, and from fifty-two stories above the hustle and bustle of the multi-level streets, it looked like a sparkling gem beside the sapphire ocean. The weather was a perfect 22° C with a sky as blue as a robin's egg, and only a few hazy wisps of cloud intruded into the scene. However, it wasn't the weather that made things so perfect.
“Spacing out again?” a soft, tender female voice called out from behind him.
From his position at the railing of the apartment's balcony, he turned around casually, his eyes meeting his wife's with a familiar compassion.
“Gotta take every chance I get at it, Masa,” he replied, a grin spreading across his face. “It's not like I get any chances to doze off at work.”
Masa laughed out loud, leaning against the frame of the sliding door. “C'mon, honey, who do you think you're fooling?”
He stepped away from the railing, coming up to her and running a hand through her hair. A look of concern crossed his face and he frowned.
“How've you been doing?” he asked finally.
Masa sighed. “Bob, not this again -”
“The doctor said you might be feeling sick. The fact that you haven't been... I just want to make sure -”
“Baby, trust me,” Masa assured him. “I'm fine.”
They both went silent. As they always did when the conversation got awkward, both their eyes wandered to the round, swollen belly under Masa's maternity dress. She had been pregnant 268 days counting. Her doctor had told them that she would be due on this coming Tuesday. Every time Bob thought about it, he felt tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. They knew the baby was going to be a girl and they had already decided on a name: Ara'Nai, in tribute to Masa's great grandmother. But it felt surreal. How could it be only three days away? After all this time, after all their patience, they were finally going to have their first child.
“Have you taken your shot today?” Bob asked.
Masa shook her head. “I'll get to it -”
“Can you just do it now? Please?” Bob pleaded. He knew that the vaccine shots weren't a life or death issue, but he wouldn't risk anything going wrong. He couldn't take that chance?”
“A-alright.” Masa answered. “They're in the top cabinet, right?”
Bob nodded.
Masa flashed a quick smile, then disappeared back into the apartment. Bob could hear her bare feet padding against the synthetic wood floor. He heard the bathroom door open with a hydraulic hiss, then shut again as she stepped inside. He thought he heard another door open, but he quickly dismissed it as the door of the medicine cabinet opening. As that door shut, Bob turned again to face the sprawling city around their complex. It was the tallest apartment building in the area, and they were only a few stories from the top, giving them a breathtaking view. He knew most people in jobs like his tried to get things accomplish on Saturday's, but he didn't feel like working today. This was a time to celebrate, not to slave away at a desk.
Bob stood against the railing for five minutes before he began to feel a disturbing feeling creeping into the back of his mind. Almost like a sixth sense, the affliction crept in his skull. He tried to shake the feeling, to get rid of the sensation, but he couldn't. Something was wrong and he knew it.
Breaking away from the railing, he stepped off the balcony and into the spacious living room of the apartment. There was a dead silence in the air. The hair on the back of Bob's neck stood on end and hurriedly, he called out,
“Masa? Honey, are you alright?”
There was no response. His breathing quickening, he sprinted across the room to the bathroom door and knocked loud and long against the thin metal plating.
“Masa? Can you hear me?”
When again she didn't speak, Bob felt his heart jump into his throat. Without wasting a second, he pressed his hand against the switch beside the frame and the door hissed open, revealing the empty bathroom beyond.
Where the hell did she go? Bob thought, glancing wildly around the small bathroom. The vaccine needle was sitting on the countertop, untouched, with its contents still visible through the glass sides of the syringe.
Bob exited the bathroom in a haste, his chest heaving. What had happened to her? He ran to the other side of the living room, shouting,
“Masa!!! Where are you?!?”
He reached the staircase on the other side of the room and was about to ascend to the second story of the apartment when he caught something out of the corner of his eye. Head swiveling to the left, he saw that the residence's front door was left wide open. Instantly, Bob's eyes flew wide open. The apartment doors never remained open unless they were forced open.
“Oh God.” Bob breathed. Then he heard it. Less than twenty feet away, feet moving through the kitchen. There was a thumping sound as they stepped, heavier and louder than Masa's footsteps. There was no way that she was the one walking through the kitchen.
Stepping slowly, partially from his state of shock and partially because of the fear he felt for the safety of his wife, he approached the open archway to the kitchen. He was close enough now that he could hear ragged breathing accompany the footsteps. There was another sound, too. It sounded like running water, but it was muted by something that kept it from hitting the surface below it directly. By the time he reached the doorway, Bob could almost picture what he was about to see, but no mental image could prepare him for what he saw.
Standing at the kitchen sink stood a man dressed completely in black, his face concealed by a bandanna which covered his mouth and nose. There was a knife sitting on the counter beside him, its edges slicked with something dark. He held his hands under the faucet, washing off...
Blood, Bob thought, his stomach twisting so tightly into a knot that he felt as though he were going to throw up. He staggered slightly, holding the doorway to keep from falling. It was as he leaned there that he saw her. She'd been so quiet, so motionless that he hadn't even noticed her, but there she lay beneath the dining room table, blood pooling around her body. He didn't have to look any longer to realize the sickening truth. Her legs twisted under her crumpled body at an unnatural angle, the shattered wood of the chair she'd broken in her fall, her throat cut open and bleeding over the neck of her dress. There was no other possibility: she was dead.
“Masa...” Bob sobbed, clutching the doorframe in stun and abhorrition. The grief washing through his blood and into his brain was so powerful that he didn't even notice the intruder turn to face him. His tears were so thick that he didn't have a chance to react before he felt a bone-shattering kick crash into his exposed chest.
Bob hit the floor of the apartment before even realized what was happening. The masked intruder was standing over him, holding the bloody knife in one hand and a piece of the shattered chair in the other. Even through the bandanna he wore, Bob could see the sadistic, ear-to-ear grin spreading across the murder's face.
“YOU ******** b*****d!!!” Bob screamed, scrambling to his feet. “YOU b*****d!!! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!!!”
But the intruder wasn't about to give him that chance. Before Bob could even regain his footing, he smashed the blunt end of the shattered chair leg into Bob's temple, knocking him instantly unconscious. There was barely any time for Bob to think before he dropped to the floor, but as he toppled to the ground, he felt that final wave of helplessness flood through him.
He killed them. He killed them and you didn't even defend them.
Then everything went black.
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Posted: Sun Jun 03, 2007 6:53 pm
Three years. Three years since that day. He had only been 22 years old at the time, Masa 21. They had been married only a little over a year, and in that time, he had shared some of the happiest moments in his life with her. Now, after over a thousand days of imprisonment in the Outreacher Lunar Penitentury, locked up with some of the most dangerous criminals known to ever have plauged the galaxies, those times seemed a century behind him. Framed by the intruder who'd killed Masa, he'd been charged with the murder of his wife and unborn child and sentenced to five years in the high security prison, followed by execution. The majority of his sentence had already passed and now it was only two years before he'd be subjected to the gas chambers. With the sentence having been passed only eight days before his birthday, he had long ago realized that he wouldn't even live to reach thirty.
Robert Bryar sat with his hands folded and his arms resting on his knees. His medium-length, shaggy blonde hair hung over his downturned face, obscuring the rest of the room from his vision. He was perched at the end of his cot, the same place he always went when he needed to think. On the third aniversery of Masa's death, this was definitely one of those times.
Through the veil of hair that covered his eyes, Bob could barely make out the rest of the room, but he knew it well enough that he didn't need to see it to know what was there. The small cell was rectangular, measuring what he estimated to be about eight by twelve feet with its longest side facing the hallway. The cot was situated against the back wall of the room so that its headboard faced the left wall (from his perspective facing the bars) and the end where he sat pointed toward the right wall. There was a "bathroom" about the size of a closet in the opposite corner of the room, cordioned off from the rest of the cell by a flimsy plastic curtain. And... that was pretty much it. The cells in the penitentury were about as spartan as they could be designed, and with the showers and kitchen located in another part of the compound entirely, there really wasn't any other necessity that needed to be added.
Unlike the prisons on Earth, the maximum security lunar detainment centers didn't allow visitors. After all, who would actually want to visit the people that ended up here? Murders, rapists, psychopaths, filled this place to the brim, and Bob had heard rumors that they had actually had to add a wing to the already-sprawling prison complex to contain all the convicts that were being shipped to it.
The one thing that Bob found better than the prisons on his homeworld was the fact that cells were limited to single occupancy. Instead of trying to cram up to four dangerous criminals into one impossibly small cage, they realized how dangerous their prisoners were and deemed it necessary to keep them in separate cells. Knowing that no one could assault him and slit his throat while he slept was pretty much Bob's only comfort in this place.
Still, there wasn't a thing in this hellhole that kept him from thinking about that day three years ago every waking moment. After all, wasn't that the point of a prison? To make the inmates feel remorse for what they'd done, to make them feel miserable about it? Only Bob hadn't done anything, and instead of becoming victim to guilt and regret, he was assailed with anger, misery, and paranoia. Once a trusting and understanding person, he no longer had faith in anyone. It was him against the world, that horrible world which had taken Masa and Ara'Nai away from him, and there was no way he was ever going to feel the same way about it again. He didn't want to know that world anymore.
The world he knew now was a different one: darker and with less freedom, perhaps, but the pain attached to the one he'd come from wasn't there. If he really tried, Bob could loose himself in the monotony of prison life, preoccupying himself with whatever he managed to find around his cell or in the prison yard attached to the main building of the penitentury. On days when he couldn't find anything to do, the twenty-four hour timespan usually consisted of nothing more than what was available to him: eatting, sleeping, and pacing. Sitting at the foot of the cot, hands held limp over his knees as he slowly began to space off, Bob was quite certain today wouldn't be any different. After all, what was there to change it?
"BRYAR!" a voice shouted suddenly from the bars lining the cell, causing Bob to twitch as he was dragged from his thoughts. He looked up to see one of the prison's guards standing at the door to his cell, one hand on the knightstick on his belt and the other holding the cardkey attached to the lanyard around his neck. Another two stood behind him, watching Bob cautiously.
The guards never come down here, Bob thought, knowing they did their best to stay out of the lower-level cells. What was so important that they needed to come all the way down here? And with three guards?
"HEY!" the first guard shouted again. "You deaf or somethin'?!? Get up off your a** and get over here, Bryar!"
Begrudgingly, Bob complied, rising up off the bed and shuffling over to the bars so he was near the doorway. The guard who had spoken flinched backwards slightly but maintained his footing and tried to remain assertive.
"The warden says you've got a... visitor," the guard said, cycling through the keys on the ring. He noticed the confused expression on Bob's face and added, "Yeah, I was just as surprised as you. We never had a visitor here before. The warden's not too fond of them. Not sure why exactly he's making an exception today -" He paused and flashed a cruel grin. "- especially for a wife-killer."
Bob fought to keep his cool, knowing that any kind of eruption on this jackass would be more than enough to keep him from meeting with this mystery guest, and knowing that this was the only visitor ever to even venture to the Outreacher Lunar Penitentury in at least the last three years told him he shouldn't risk missing this kind of chance. Instead, he took a deep, shallow breath and tried to stay calm as the three guards laughed and the first one unlocked the cell door, which swung in with a hydraulic hiss and came to rest against the room's left wall.
"What are you waiting for, Bryar?" the guard asked when Bob didn't move. "Your feet ain't gonna walk themselves."
Bob stepped out of the prison cell silently, unaccustomed to being out when the balconies were this empty. Usually the only time he was out here was either at lunch or recess, but at such an unorthodox time of day, the halls were completely vacant. As he began to follow the guards down the walkway to the nearest elevator, he glanced down into the bowels of the building, interested in seeing what they looked like when they weren't swarming with convicts.
Usually lit by bright floodlights and the reflective glow of orange jumpsuits, but now there was barely any light to illuminate the sinking depths, letting the thirty-some stories below disappear easily into the fold of darkness. He looked up too and saw that the open air of the seventy-three stories above was devoid of movement as well.
As the four-man convoy moved towards the elevator at the end of the hall, Bob couldn't help but wonder who in their right mind would take the time out of their life to visit someone in this hellhole. Stranger yet, to visit him.
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Posted: Sun Jun 03, 2007 6:55 pm
Having lived on a three-year, airless rotation between his cell, the cafeteria, and the prison yard, Bob was unused to growing accustomed to new surroundings and he found himself having to return to his old instincts to take in his surroundings as his escorts brought him into the office of the warden. As far as Bob knew, no prisoner had ever been up here before, making him wonder just what had made him worthy of such an "honor". The guards seemed suspicious, too, but they had kept silent for the entire trip and didn't speak once as they brought him into the office and sat him down in the cold steel chair that faced the desk.
There weren't any restraints or shackles on either the legs or the arms of the chair, which Bob took as a good sign that, for whatever reason they wanted to talk to him, it wasn't because he was in trouble. In fact, the only thing he remembered ever doing in the penitentury that might have been cause for an interrogation (save the actual reason for his incarceration) was a few months back when he had purposefully elbowed a former meth dealer in the face and broken his jaw.
Which wasn't actually that big of a deal, Bob thought as the three guards exited the room, leaving him alone in the stark white chamber. Fights broke out in the prison yard almost daily, and considering there was at least one brawl-related death every week, Bob didn't figure it was anything worth recognition.
Drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair, Bob sat silently for what felt like hours before the sound of a door hissing behind him drew his attention and he turned to see the figure that had entered the room.
Dressed in a slate gray button-down military uniform and matching knee-length skirt, the woman that stalked into the spartan white warden's office projected an air of authority and command. Her medium-length brunette hair was pulled back in a plated braid and stuck underneath a gold bow that matched most of the stars and medals pinned to her shirt. The short-heeled black business shoes that enclosed her small feet and the pair of white cotton gloves on her hands were spotted with odd particles of dirt and grime, but aside from that, she looked like the picturesque image of immaculate dress. The expression on her face was stiff and unfeeling, giving Bob quite the impression that this wasn't the type of woman who was used to being messed with. Fixing him with an ice-cold, emotionless stare, the woman opened her mouth and spoke in a voice just as political and authoritive as her features.
"Mr. Robert Bryar," she said as she crossed the room rigidly towards the desk, "My name is Lieutenant Samantha Jacques, and I've come here to speak to you as an emissary of the G.M.F.F.M. My supervisors have extended a greeting to you and an invitation."
"An invitation?" Bob gave her a skeptic stare. "No offense by asking, but exactly what does an organization like the Galactic Mergeneance's Federation of Free Militaries want with a person like me?"
Jacques, now standing right beside the desk yet making no move to sit down, gave a small, almost indiscernible smile, the dark red corners of her lips curling up a fraction of a degree. "We request your service, Mr. Bryar," she said, "and nothing more."
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Posted: Fri Jun 15, 2007 5:54 am
Frank Iero sighed, exhaling cigarette smoke from his mouth. The rooftop of the office was the only place he knew he could get away from it all-- the chit-chat, the computers, the watercoolers, the week-old smell of burnt coffee, and the relationships in the janitor's office. He sat down on the gravel next to the door leading to the staircase and put out the butt of his cigarette on the ground, immediately reaching for anothr from the box in his pocket. Where was it?! He felt all his pockets frantically searching for it. Then, he remembered. He remembered the box of Camel Lights resting neatly under a not-so-neat pile of rejected reports sitting on his desk and just taking up space. Damn. Now unable to relax, Frank got up and walked to the edge of the roof, letting the wind mess up the hair he'd gelled back only for the days he worked. Which was almost never. He'd called in sick so many times that they probably thought he was chronically ill.
Frank looked around. The home directly across the street was where it had happened. A man named Bob Bryar had been accused of killing his wife. Frank had known Bob. Not well, but they were acquaintances. Bob was in jail now.
"It's really a shame, isn't it?" a voice from behind Frank said. Frank whirled around. It was Caleb, the intern. He tended to stick around Frank a lot and often could read what Frank was thinking just by looking at him.
"Uhh... yeah," he murmured a reply.
"That Masa was a pretty one, wasn't she?"
"Bob didn't do it."
"Huh?"
"Bob didn't do it."
The skies became darkened.
"That's strange... the newscaster didn't predict rain for today..." Caleb muttered.
"They're not clouds, Caleb. Look," Frank said, pointing to the sky. Above them was a fleet of ships. Psyarks. And the rain of fire began.
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