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Thread: Digimon: Broken Code (RPG Thread, PG-13)

  1. #1
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    Default Digimon: Broken Code (RPG Thread, PG-13)

        Spoiler:- Characters:


    D:BC

    The screams of twisting steel and fracturing concrete sounded out as he strode forth. The building down the street was collapsing, fracturing beneath the onslaught of the monster. Its roars overwhelmed the screams, overcame the tortured noises of the building. The street was cracked underfoot, tarmac buckled and rippling under the force of the creature ahead, and the sky was crackling with digital lightning, the aftermath of the Bio Emergence still clear. Broken glass flashed in the light cast by the heavenly bolts, shards cast down by the Digimon's rampage, and the soldier's boosts crunched on them, shattering the fragments further.

    The Digimon emerged. It was a hulking, lithe beast, orange with blue scales and a bony brown helm around its head, lithe and reptilian like a dinosaur. Fierce brown eyes glared from its skull down at him, the creature turning to face him with a snarl. Though it was more than three times his size, he was unafraid. He raised a blue and white device in hand.

    “Bio-Hybrid Digivolution... activate!” he commanded, tapping a button on the device.

    The soldier burst. His form expanded, clothes and skin melting into data and reforging in a glow of light. A titanic figure rose in his place,all crimson with black stripes. It was a dinosaur too, with mighty claws and a white mane, intricate black sigils marked across its scales. The Growlmon roared, rising to tower just as high as its GeoGreymon opponent.

    The GeoGreymon seemed dumbstruck. “A human... turning into a Digimon?” it rumbled. “How is that even possible?!”

    The Growlmon's only answer was an attack. “Pyro Blaster!” it roared, loosing red fire in a stream from its mouth as it stalked forth. The GeoGreymon was engulfed, snarling in pain as the viral fire washed over and seared its digital flesh. Before it could react, the Growlmon was upon it, striking with blades which flickered out from its forearms. “Dragon Slash!” The blades ignited with plasma, burning white hot as they slashed and tore into the GeoGreymon's torso. Crimson bled from the gashes as the wounded Digimon staggered back, flames dancing in its maw.

    “Mega Flame!” it cried in pain, a stream of orange flame pouring from its mouth. The Growlmon ducked around the flames, embers caressing its scaly arm as it struck with its claws for the other dinosaur's neck. The GeoGreymon ducked under the blow and erupted at its crimson rival. “Horn Impulse!” It rammed the transformed human, horns tearing against the softer belly scales and drawing back. However, the orange dinosaur found itself gripped in an unrelenting lock, pressed to the Growlmon's belly as its free arm was raised.

    “Dragon Slash!” the Growlmon snarled, thrusting down with a plasma-coated blade. It stabbed into the GeoGreymon's exposed back, making the dinosaur scream as the blade tore through its spine and straight through to pierce its core. Blood welled up as the Growlmon released its adversary, the orange dinosaur staggering away and clutching at itself.

    “This... this can't be...” it whispered, slumping to its knees and staring horrified at its grim, triumphant foe. “A human... besting me... how can you do this?!” But it received no answer as it toppled to the tarmac underfoot, and slowly faded into motes on impact. Its body dissolved into orange, ember-like motes of data which the Growlmon stepped into. The motes flowed into it, soaking into and becoming part of the human-turned-Digimon's data. Once all the data was absorbed, light flared out of the Growlmon, its body fracturing into motes and slowly disintegrating, reforming back into human form on the ground below.

    Alexander Miles stood and slowly took a deep breath, holding his Digivice to his face. “Target engaged and destroyed, sir.”

    “Excellent, Sergeant Miles. Return to base. Professor Lloyd reports that our test subjects are ready for their first combat experience. You should lead them for that, to make sure the rookies don't do something stupid.”

    “Yes, sir,” he nodded. “On my way back now, sir.” With that, he pocketed the Digivice, turning and striding away down the street, towards the small convoy of soldier-manned vehicles which had brought him to this location.

    D:BC

    Charlene stood amidst the small cluster of Bio-Hybrids, shivering. The air was cold and smelt of disinfectant. It was like a hospital, but the walls were bare and grey, and everything was spartan. It felt like a morgue.

    The girl looked around, taking in her... 'comrades'? The word didn't feel right, it reeked of military brotherhood which she didn't feel comfortable with. 'Friends'? But she had barely met these people. She wasn't sure how to refer to them. All that they had in common was this situation. The data implanted into their DNA. That tiny anomaly which had made them targets.

    Humming, a man entered the room, a white lab coat slung haphazardly over his slender frame. His hair was some pale shade of lilac, his eyes hidden by the light gleaming from his glasses. Stephen Lloyd was certainly an eccentric man, and Charlene wasn't sure if she liked him or was afraid of him. He was certainly less intimidating than the rifle-wielding soldiers stood at each door, glaring stonily at them. But on the other hand, sometimes his eccentricity seemed indistinguishable from insanity.

    “Excellent!” Lloyd exclaimed, making her jump as he whirled from the instruments he had been examining. His gaze transfixed them, the scientist smiling. “Good news, everyone! You're ready for combat! Sergeant Miles will be here shortly to brief you and get you ready. We predict a major Digimon incursion in just a few hours, so you should get to really strut your stuff! Good luck!” With a smile which was probably meant to be reassuring but which only made Charlene's stomach twist more, he leapt away, seeing to bounce off through the door.

    She took the Digivice from her belt, staring at it. She had only used the device three times, under controlled circumstances. What if when the time came, it didn't work? And even if it did...

    She felt her body tear away, felt every nerve alight with something between pain and pleasure. The light was gone suddenly, ripped away as she stared out through new eyes. Her vision was suddenly sharper, picking out threads on the uniforms of the soldiers near her. She stared at her hands, seeing the paws with extending pudgy fingers, slowly clenching them. She felt strong and graceful, felt stronger than she had ever felt. She gingerly moved forwards, adjusting to the new form's weight and height. Neither soldier moved, but as she stumbled, Lloyd was suddenly there, catching her.

    “Hey, easy now,” he smiled, staring at her with something between a scientist's analytical stare and the concern of a friend. “Take it slowly. Give yourself time to adapt. I know this must be a shock for you, Charlene.” Moving away from him slowly, she moved, stepping light over the floor to the mirror Lloyd had thoughtfully placed for her to see herself. Staring into it, she saw a humanoid rabbit with pale lilac fur staring back, her big eyes the familiar blue shade of her own. A silver mask covered her face, purple armor encasing her torso and black gloves around her hands.

    “W-what's this called?” she asked softly.

    “Lekismon,” Lloyd said. “At least, that's what the Digimon we got the data sample from called itself.”

    “Lekismon...” she repeated. “That sounds kind of nice...” She stared into the mirror at her lithe Digimon form, at once admiring and fearing it.

    Lekismon seemed elegant, but fragile. Was that form really built to fight? Could she even fight? All the Digimon she had seen on the news seemed to know instinctively how to battle, or seemed experienced. But she had never fought anyone. She had never needed to fight anyone, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. Sure, they said it would save lives and protect people, but even so to hurt something, to kill...

    She was cut off from her train of thought by a man entering. He was dressed in combat fatigues, his short-cut hair a silvery hue of blond, his eyes rich green. He was muscular and strong-looking, the very image of a soldier. He looked so like something out of some action movie as he stood there that Charlene couldn't help but wonder why they needed her or any of these others at all.

    “I'm Sergeant Alexander Miles,” the man spoke hesitantly. “I'll be your instructor and leader from this point onwards, and I'm a Bio-Hybrid, like you.” He slowly revealed his Digivice to them, pocketing it after a moment. He seemed uneasy with them, Charlene noted, as though uncomfortable to be in the room with 'civilians'. “I know you would probably not choose to be here, however, the United States has been forced to call on you to do your duty as citizens. As such, I can only ask that you carry out that duty to the best of your ability with the power you've been given.” He paused. “As Professor Lloyd said, the emergence sensors are anticipating a Digimon influx over the next few hours, so we'll be on standby until then. Once Digimon appear, we'll move to their location and eliminate them before they can damage the city or harm people. If you're thinking of slipping away in the confusion of battle, I'd advise you not to try. You may have noticed a scar on your arm which wasn't there before. That scar is from the implantation of a GPS tracking device which constantly broadcasts your exact location, so if you attempt to run, you will be tracked down and... returned to us.”

    Charlene's hand unconsciously came to her arm, sliding up the sleeve of her shirt to lightly caress the rough scar tissue. It was a clinical, precise line. As clinical and precise as everything else done to them. That was why she had immediately seen it in the mirror, because it was so even and straight and wrong.

    “If you have any questions, ask them now,” Alexander said. “There won't be time later. If no one has any questions, we'll move out and get ready for combat.”

    Charlene wanted to raise her voice to ask something, but the action movie hero soldier in front of her was intimidating in his own way. He was strong and seemingly perfect, experienced and able to fight. Everything she wasn't. Seeing him there only made her own imperfection for this role apparent. She could only begin to imagine him in combat, wondering about his Digimon form. She imagined some mighty dragon, or a holy knight tearing through the enemy, dispatching every twisted, fearsome Digimon with but a single blow. And all she was in comparison was a rabbit girl. She stayed silent, waiting for someone else to raise some objection or question.
    [CENTER]

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  2. #2
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    The grey, drab, plain, dusty walls of this... Heh, Dimitri wasn't even sure what word could best justify his surroundings, he felt like an animal caged up in some sort of zoo, waiting to be poked and prodded at by some kid with a sharp stick, which, I guess sorta fit the situation nicely.

    Dimitri slowly turned around, looking at the walls, noting how bare, and boring they were, a nice coat of red spray paint would really class up the place, heck, a nice couch here, open up a few windows, get a nice TV, and this place could be a nice little pit stop. You know, come here, watch a bit of entertaining TV, throw a few cards at the wall, just cut loose and relax.

    Dimitri was enjoying this bit of peace, and enjoyment, but of course, it had to be put to a stop by the sound of the Mad Doctor coming into the room, Dimitri's eyes quickly darted at the scientist, he looked like he'd fit better in a movie from the 80s then from an actual lab.

    The Doctor's lips flapped as he said something about Pep Talks and monsters appearing, to be quite honest, all of this was just extremely boring, Dimitri lightly scoffed at the ridiculous man as he seemed to hop away merrily. A few armed guards waiting on the outside, armed with the usual assault rifle, you would think if they were gonna be put there to stop a thing that could blow up cities blocks, they'd give something with a bit more... bang. Dimitri lightly chuckled as he took out his deck of playing cards from card holder. Lightly shuffling the cards, making a Crrrucuk sound.

    A minute or so passed and the doors opened again, this time a younger man, looking like one of those stereotypical guys from shooting games, Dimitri couldn't help but chuckle a bit as the man began his long speech.

    “I'm Sergeant Alexander Miles,” the guy said slowly, like he was trying to remember what he had put down on his flash cards. “I'll be your instructor and leader from this point onwards, and I'm a Bio-Hybrid, like you.” He slowly revealed his Digivice to them, pocketing it after a moment. He seemed uneasy with them, “I know you would probably not choose to be here, however, the United States has been forced to call on you to do your duty as citizens. As such, I can only ask that you carry out that duty to the best of your ability with the power you've been given.” He paused. “As Professor Lloyd said, the emergence sensors are anticipating a Digimon influx over the next few hours, so we'll be on standby until then. Once Digimon appear, we'll move to their location and eliminate them before they can damage the city or harm people. If you're thinking of slipping away in the confusion of battle, I'd advise you not to try. You may have noticed a scar on your arm which wasn't there before. That scar is from the implantation of a GPS tracking device which constantly broadcasts your exact location, so if you attempt to run, you will be tracked down and... returned to us.”

    Another chuckle came out of Dimitri, nice to see that the good ol' US of A wasn't about to let a 'weapon of mass destruction' go about all willy-nilly.

    “If you have any questions, ask them now,” Alexander said. “There won't be time later. If no one has any questions, we'll move out and get ready for combat.”

    Dimitri looked around the room, seeing how no one else had put up their hand yet, he thought he might as well go first. "So, Mr Boy Wonder, uh," he said stifling a laugh "when can I expect my check for 'giving' the US such a valued gift?"

  3. #3
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    Elijah Styx
    Some hospital-place

    It was dark. Elijah could not see anything, yet, everything seemed clear to him. What's this feeling? Everything feels so.. light? like there are nothing to worry about at all, despite the fact that he had no idea what was going on with him. He took a few steps, adjusted to this new feeling. he felt good. it was not as horrible as he had imagined it about 15 minutes ago. putting that aside.. Whatw as he?

    He couldn't see, but at the same time, he could. it was hard to explain, but he could sense his surroundings. the change wasn't huge. mostly his physical built, and the fact that he now had 6 white wings, reaching out from his back. he felt like some sort of an angel. it was weird, but he liked it.

    "Now, Elijah. how do you feel?" he heard someone ask. he could not see, but h sensed the precense of a man not far away.

    "I feel.. weird. kinda. but at the same time, not." He said, hoping it did make more sense than it sounded like it didn't so. he heard scribbeling. "Now, I want you to try an attack. Just focus all your energy on making a move" the researcher said, continuing with a lot of stuff that really didn't make much sense.

    Elijah closed his eyes, and focused. he felt light and goodness inside him, and he tried manifesting it into some sort of awesome move. he imagined something like a blast of light, which did not happen.
    He reached out his hand, and a rod formed out of the pulsing light that surrounded him.

    "Not bad..." *Scribble scribble*


    --------------------------------------------------

    They were standing in a line. Elijah, along with a few selected others. he imagined they were in the same situation as he: being taken away from their life, and put into this combat life. some of them didn't look comfortable, and he felt good knowing he wasn't the only one. Then, a professor Elijah recognized from earlier stepped in. He was the one who had explained ths whole situation to him, and who was guiding him into understanding the Digivice and the whole digimon thing. he had a hard time believing that the Angemon thing he could transform into was capable of doing anyd amage at all but..
    The doctor just went through some pep talking, and a big formal lesson on how the digmion problem had to stop etc. before another guy entered the room.

    It was some military guy who looked like coming from some game little kids waste their life on. He introduced himself as Alexander, and was wearing a typical combat attire, and didn't seem too friendly.

    “I'm Sergeant Alexander Miles,” the guy said slowly, like he was trying to remember what he had put down on his flash cards. “I'll be your instructor and leader from this point onwards, and I'm a Bio-Hybrid, like you.” He slowly revealed his Digivice to them, pocketing it after a moment. “I know you would probably not choose to be here, however, the United States has been forced to call on you to do your duty as citizens. As such, I can only ask that you carry out that duty to the best of your ability with the power you've been given.” He paused. “As Professor Lloyd said, the emergence sensors are anticipating a Digimon influx over the next few hours, so we'll be on standby until then. Once Digimon appear, we'll move to their location and eliminate them before they can damage the city or harm people. If you're thinking of slipping away in the confusion of battle, I'd advise you not to try. You may have noticed a scar on your arm which wasn't there before". "What the..?" Elijah said, looking at his arm. "That scar is from the implantation of a GPS tracking device which constantly broadcasts your exact location, so if you attempt to run, you will be tracked down and... returned to us.”

    "This is insulting! I want to talk to my parents!"
    Last edited by Schade; 17th March 2013 at 9:35 PM.

  4. #4
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    Alex Ganston
    Laboratory


    Alex rolled over in pain, and groaned. He was aching in places for some reason. He rolled up his sleeve and found a scar on his arm, which made him uncomfortable. It felt "tight" in that area. He opened his eyes, and noticed several other people who were gathering together, forming a sort of line. Alex noticed a mad scientist-looking guy, who was walking around. Alex felt uneasy. He looked around the room, and it literally seemed like something out of a horror film. There cracks in the walls, stains, and it felt eerily similar to a jail. It looked like they were trapped within concrete wals, and were to be experimented on. Alex looked at his arm. "Looks like We've already been experimented on..." He thought to himself as he looked at the other people. As Alex walked to join the line, and military soldier came out of the doors. Alex knew right away he was a soldier, due to his attire. Alex straightened out his posture, and listened to what he had to ay.

    “I'm Sergeant Alexander Miles,” the man spoke hesitantly. “I'll be your instructor and leader from this point onwards, and I'm a Bio-Hybrid, like you.” He slowly revealed his Digivice to them, pocketing it after a moment. Alex felt his gut drop, as he said the words 'instructor' and 'leader. He hadn't signed up for anything recently. In fact, he was supposed to be in school right now. “I know you would probably not choose to be here, however, the United States has been forced to call on you to do your duty as citizens. As such, I can only ask that you carry out that duty to the best of your ability with the power you've been given.” He paused. “As Professor Lloyd said, the emergence sensors are anticipating a Digimon influx over the next few hours, so we'll be on standby until then. Once Digimon appear, we'll move to their location and eliminate them before they can damage the city or harm people. If you're thinking of slipping away in the confusion of battle, I'd advise you not to try. You may have noticed a scar on your arm which wasn't there before. That scar is from the implantation of a GPS tracking device which constantly broadcasts your exact location, so if you attempt to run, you will be tracked down and... returned to us.”


    Alex went blank for a second, to process what he was saying. "s hit..." He cussed. "That means we're dogs of the military?" Alex said, worryingly. He looked, as he saw that everyone in the line-up, including him, was young. "We still have so much more to live for...." He thought. "Wait...we're not gonna die, are we?"

  5. #5
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    The first thing he could feel upon regaining consciousness was the cool floor against his face. It was so cold that it was numbing... or perhaps that was the lingering sensation of when that mad doctor had him do... whatever it was he said it was called. He could barely even remember what Lloyd called it. He had been too absorbed in his anger of why he was there to really take in what that Doctor Lloyd person was saying. All he remembered was the massive surge of energy that he felt. It was a sharp pain mixed with the feeling of being supercharged, like he had been struck by lightning or something like that.

    Nick tensed his eyelids as he came around. The numb sensation wasn't going away; it was centered around his mouth, nose, and the upper sides of his head. His arms and legs felt weird too. It began to worry him.

    He let out a groan. His voice sounded strange to him, as it was much deeper. He lifted his head up slightly and tried to push himself up with his arms, but they weren't moving right.

    "What... happened?" Nick groaned. He instead tried to use his legs to assist himself in standing up. They felt very wrong, like he was in somebody else's body. It became clear to him that there was definitely something wrong. This belief was accentuated by the feeling that there was something on his face.

    When he opened his eyes to try and see what it was, he let out a gasp of shock. Everything in his field of vision struck him dumb. The colours were so intense and everything was so clear and vivid. It was like a brilliant picture by a world-renowned artistic genious of eras past. The level of detail he could see
    everywhere was so intense and overwhelming.

    His pupils dilated and his grey eyes darted around the room wildly. He was starting to get a sharp headache and he felt nauseous in his stomach, which felt much lower than usual.

    "W-Wha's going on?" he asked, his stress clear in his voice. He talked a bit slurrily, as his mouth felt strange, causing him to stumble over his own tongue.

    He looked around for Lloyd, trying to spot him so he could get answers. Nick now stood at full height; he felt unbalanced on his feet. His whole body felt strange to him. He felt fear running through him now.

    Finally he saw the doctor below him. ...Below him? Nick started wondering why he was so elevated now.

    "Just relax," Lloyd told him with a casual smile. "Your first bio-hybrid evolution went wonderfully!

    "My what?" Nick asked. He remembered hearing the words, and he knew it was something involving helping them with the fight against digimon, but it was all hazy. "Bio-hybrid evolution...?"

    "Indeed!" the scientist said. "Now take things slowly. Don't run before you can walk. Or fly, in your case, I suppose. You need time to get used to your new body as, due to your muscle memory, you will instinctively be accustomed to more human muscle functions."

    "What...?" Nick asked, grimacing in both pain and confusion. He grimaced and turned his head to his left arm, which he was trying to move out in front of him.

    However, he found himself moving his arm at an unusual angle. He turned his head to see what was wrong with him and, instead of an arm, he found a huge wing. It was covered with red feathers all the way to the tip except for the streak of white feathers near the end.

    At first he thought it was a mistake, so he tried to move his arm again. To his horror, the wing moved in the place of his arm. He did the same thing with his other arm, only to find another wing. He then looked down at his chest and feet. Instead of a shirt, he seemed to have a fluffy, browish-red mane around his neck. He also had a puffed-out chest which was covered with the same red plumage as the wings. Instead of his shoes, he saw that he was standing on yellow, thick, bird-like feet with two jagged claws on each foot.

    His grey eyes widened and they turned towards the mirror in the room, which had been tilted upwards so that he could see himself from the high height; Nick was at least two stories tall now. He looked in the mirror and was mortified. Looking back at him wasn't a human. It was a white, avian face complete with a thick, sharp beak, two bull-like horns, and red markings over his eyes. His grey eye colour was the only part of him that reflected what he used to be.

    "Wh-Wh-What the bloody hell is this?!" he demanded, staggering backwards in shock and horror.

    "Settle down, Nicholas," Lloyd told him. "Weren't you listening before?"

    Nick let out a sharp trill as he suddenly tripped over his feet, landing on his tail plumage before crashing to the ground on his side. He scrambled to try to get up, ending up thrashing his wings around wildly and dangerously, inadvertantly sending gusts of wind everywhere.

    Lloyd backed up and braced himself from the gusts and some of the guards looked at him, wondering if they should incapacitate Nick before he hurt someone. The scientist waved them down, however.

    "I... Wh-What did you people do to me?!" Nick shouted in anger and despair.

    "We made you able to bio-hybrid digivolve. This is your digimon form," Lloyd explained as if that would satisfy Nick.

    "This is what the United States government wanted me for?! To turn me into a mutant eagle digimon freak?!"

    "You're not a mutant freak. You're an Aquilamon!" Lloyd proclaimed encouragingly.

    The Aquilamon shut his eyes tightly, his body trembling with fury and woe. He opened his new beak to let out a shout, but he was forced to settle for releasing a deep, avian screech.


    -

    “I'm Sergeant Alexander Miles,” the man spoke hesitantly. “I'll be your instructor and leader from this point onwards, and I'm a Bio-Hybrid, like you.” He slowly revealed his Digivice to them, pocketing it after a moment. He seemed uneasy with them, Charlene noted, as though uncomfortable to be in the room with 'civilians'. “I know you would probably not choose to be here, however, the United States has been forced to call on you to do your duty as citizens. As such, I can only ask that you carry out that duty to the best of your ability with the power you've been given.” He paused. “As Professor Lloyd said, the emergence sensors are anticipating a Digimon influx over the next few hours, so we'll be on standby until then. Once Digimon appear, we'll move to their location and eliminate them before they can damage the city or harm people. If you're thinking of slipping away in the confusion of battle, I'd advise you not to try. You may have noticed a scar on your arm which wasn't there before. That scar is from the implantation of a GPS tracking device which constantly broadcasts your exact location, so if you attempt to run, you will be tracked down and... returned to us.”

    “If you have any questions, ask them now,” Alexander said. “There won't be time later. If no one has any questions, we'll move out and get ready for combat.”

    Nick clenched his fists tightly, his arms trembling. "...I have a question..." he spoke, his voice scathing. He walked to the front of the group and looked up, glaring into Alexander's eyes coldly. "What do you, your army, and your bloody government think they're doing?! 'Do our duty as citizens'?! Now, I'm not sure if you can tell but I'm a citizen of the United Kingdom! I'm only here as a student! I don't hold any US citizenship! I demand to speak with the British embassy right now! We have rights, at least where I come from."

    He looked around at the people around him. "I didn't know there was still conscription," he spoke. "No, that's too kind of a word. 'Kidnapping' fits the bill better. Now tell me, why are we the ones have to do this? Use actual soldiers like yourself to be guinea pigs for this mad science abonimation project. Or is this country losing the war so badly that it has to resort to using tweens and the handicapped for its military manpower?!

    "Cool your jets," a female voice said with a playful tone.

    Nick turned around and saw a blonde-haired girl around his age looking at him. "Excuse me?"

    "It's not like we have a choice and I'm pretty sure your yelling isn't going to change anybody's mind if it hasn't already," the girl known as Violet replied. "Besides, I'm pretty sure it's too late now. I have a feeling we can't un-become a digimon... err, 'bio-hydrid'. Whatever you want to call us."

    "I call us 'civilians'," Nick responded with irritation. "I joined university, not an army training camp. We can't be expected to go out and fight! There are UN protocols about this sort of thing, I'm sure - there must be! Besides, the army sergeant here won't do us any good. I don't know about the rest of you, but I can hardly fly, let alone fight experienced digimon!"

    "You can always run away," Violet teased him. "Wait, how did that work out for you all those times before? Oh yeah. Zap!" She put her hands on her hips and looked over at Alex. "Besides, I'm sure Sargey here can come up with some tactics or something. And it's not that hard once you get used to the form."

    "I'm sorry, does your digimon form have wings?" Nick sniped dryly.

    "No. You can just flap them around like a penguin!" Violet replied with a cheerful smile.

    Nick groaned and palmed his face. "I can't believe this rubbish. This whole situation is ludicrous."
    Last edited by Griff4815; 17th March 2013 at 10:44 PM.
    Claimed: Grovyle - November 10th, 2013
    Chapter 17 is up.

  6. #6
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    Veronica Lance
    Laboratory


    Veronica tapped her foot as she stood in line with a few others waiting for whatever it was they were waiting for. She really hated being treated like some type of science experiment. She looked around the room, and rolled her eyes. There were cracks on the walls, stains, it felt like being in Frankenstein's laboratory, and everyone there was the monsters. Hmph, they couldn't even be bothered to clean up for their little experiments. This is pitiful.

    Soon, the man who likely served the role of Dr. Frankenstein entered the room. “I'm Sergeant Alexander Miles,” the man spoke hesitantly. “I'll be your instructor and leader from this point onwards, and I'm a Bio-Hybrid, like you.” He slowly revealed his Digivice to them, pocketing it after a moment.

    As he did, Veronica took out her own black Digivice, and looked at it. She remembered the name of the Digimon they stuck her with, Witchmon. A ridiculous caricature of a witch, flying broom, pointy hat, and all. It's nice to know these people have a sense of humor.She had been accused of being one most of her life, she figured this is what would happen. She put her digivice away, crossed her arms, then looked on with indifference as the sergeant continued to speak.

    “I know you would probably not choose to be here, however, the United States has been forced to call on you to do your duty as citizens. As such, I can only ask that you carry out that duty to the best of your ability with the power you've been given.”

    Don't give me that. You weren't forced to do anything... Despite the horrific circumstances, if there was one bright spot, it was that she had been taken out of her boring life, and given an incredible power. She would no longer have to return to her old life, and the people in it, ever again. Still, being here was like trading one evil for another. It was anyone's guess how this would work out.

    He paused before continuing. “As Professor Lloyd said, the emergence sensors are anticipating a Digimon influx over the next few hours, so we'll be on standby until then. Once Digimon appear, we'll move to their location and eliminate them before they can damage the city or harm people. If you're thinking of slipping away in the confusion of battle, I'd advise you not to try. You may have noticed a scar on your arm which wasn't there before. That scar is from the implantation of a GPS tracking device which constantly broadcasts your exact location, so if you attempt to run, you will be tracked down and... returned to us.”

    Veronica rolled her eyes. Of course, mustn't let the monsters get away now can we? That would be terrible. The thought of that scenario brought a small smirk to her face, but she quickly got rid of it before anyone asked any questions.
    Shiny Mega Gardevoir thinks his black dress is totally stylish. Shiny Mega Gallade wishes he looked that good. :P

    RPer's profile, 3DS Friend Code, and Nintendo Network ID

  7. #7
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    ((OOC: I sense many conflicting posts and such. May I request a discussion thread? Is “Digimon” a proper noun or not?))
    Oleander Medeiros
    Gray Room that Smells of Disinfectant


    Oleander stood in the room with the other Bio-Hybrids. Of course, that was all he could do, sans creating a space for himself and sitting, but he had more self-control than that. The others would not appreciate that for they seemed to be nervous. He was not panicking, but if he were to actually fight a Digimon, then he believed that he would panic and cause more of a disaster than the actual Digimon. That is, if he had no orders to follow – if he was ordered to perform an action, then he could safely say that he had been obedient and it was not his decision. It was easier.

    The guards were staring straight at the civilians in the room, and Alan thought that they were conspicuous enough to prevent escape – not as if that had prevented a few of his fellow Bio-Hybrids from attempting to do so. The room was bare and gray; it seemed to him as if it was a setting for a horror movie. The smell of anti-bacterial cleaner had become familiar enough to him over the course of his time at this facility that he noticed it and then moved on, instead of lingering on the pungent scent. The walls were concrete and the fellow Bio-Hybrids were looking around when Alan had already taken note of the surroundings. Alan had no better description for the other Bio-Hybrids than “fellows”; he supposed that he would get to know them better after a while, but he would not take the initiative.

    The guards side-stepped as Dr. Lloyd entered the room and their relief at the prospect of being relieved from their duty of managing the Bio-Hybrids was…not there. The doctor had a lab coat on and hair an odd shade of purple. To Oleander his appearance was not as threatening, but he knew that he was the one who had removed him from his family and transformed him into a…monster.

    A monster in human form, that was what Alan was now – the guns could deliver to him a swift death, but fate would have it that he was to fight until he fell: a slow death of the soul. The pep-talk that the doctor delivered did assure the 17-year-old that all he was required to do was obey and everything else would be taken care of. ’…At least “Sergeant Miles” will be commanding us. It would be best if he did not order us to do things that we cannot. I do not think that I could kill without hesitation, even if it would save lives,’ Alan thought, showing no trace of his apprehension on his face. The Digivice on his belt seemed to betray its light weight with the gravity of what it was and what it did.

    A tall man with platinum-blond hair in a military-style cut stepped into the room. His vibrant green eyes seemed to stare down each of his fellow Bio-Hybrids; his muscular frame intimidated Alan, but that was better than appearing weak. The eyes held something other than friendliness – a cold appraisal of each of the recruits was what he interpreted the look as. ’As a military man, does he dislike our being here? We are but civilians…’ Oleander’s thoughts trailed off as he started to remember how he had turned into a Bio-Hybrid.

    He wobbled, unsure of how to balance in this new form. His eyesight was far better than before – four eyes like a spider provided vision clearer than anything humans could achieve. He could see both farther and nearer than was comfortable for his standard of sub-standard human sight. The four new limbs were slowly learning to communicate properly with his back and chest muscles. It would be a while until he could achieve flight of a non-drunken manner. His tail further complicated manners; it was a limb that he supposed was used for balance, yet why was a section of it tightly wrapped in belts? He slid his tongue over his teeth, which were all sharp and well-adapted to tearing flesh. He could not feel his toes, so he tried to move whatever was there in place of them. Screeches of the concrete beneath him told him that he had claws in place of toes. His hands were similarly armed, but he had the beginnings of fingers, at least, there.

    Alan breathed in and out much more heavily than he had been before; his new form had startled him. His breath was raspy and far deeper than it had been when he was a human, but it fit was he was now.

    He asked nothing, but glanced at his current body. He soon located a mirror placed by Dr. Lloyd, whose height now reached Alan’s chest. The 17-year-old was sitting down, but he supposed that his height would reach double the doctor’s when he stood.
    ’So…I am a combination of a dragon and a demon?’ It certainly appeared that way – nearly his entire body was covered in dull black scales, leaving only his claws, eyes, and a mark on his left hand to be a bright red. His eyes were not merely a bright red: they glowed and seemed to entrance him.

    “Congratulations!” the doctor exclaimed; he appeared to be genuinely pleased that Oleander had succeeded in his transformation. “Your first Bio-Hybrid digievolution worked as well as it could have. Do you feel any abnormal pain?”

    “…No,” Alan responded, and then promptly bit his tongue on accident while closing his mouth. His mouth had been open before and he had “tasted” the air using another organ that he did not have while a human.
    ’How…uncouth,’ he remarked to himself, and then looked at the guards who seemed to agree with him.

    “Good. Now don’t try to fly just yet – your new body will take some getting-used-to,” Dr. Lloyd said, and continued after a small pause, “your Digimon form is called Devidramon.”


    Alan ceased reminiscing about his first Bio-Hybrid digievolution, for Sergeant Miles had begun to speak.

    “I'm Sergeant Alexander Miles,” he said, “I'll be your instructor and leader from this point onwards, and I'm a Bio-Hybrid, like you.” He removed his Digivice from his pocket and soon returned it after everyone had seen it. “I know you would probably not choose to be here, however, the United States has been forced to call on you to do your duty as citizens. As such, I can only ask that you carry out that duty to the best of your ability with the power you've been given.” He was still hesitant, Alan noted, for when the Sergeant had said “citizens” he had paused as if trying to remember what he had been told to say. “As Professor Lloyd said, the emergence sensors are anticipating a Digimon influx over the next few hours, so we'll be on standby until then. Once Digimon appear, we'll move to their location and eliminate them before they can damage the city or harm people.”

    ’”Eliminate” them…I am unsure of whether or not I can strike with the intent to harm…I’ve practiced punching punching-bags and targets, but never something alive,’ Alan was not prepared in the least for this excursion, but he would comply because it was less difficult. Following orders was what he excelled at – when asked to do something even remotely important he fretted and mulled over whether his choice had been the right one. Relying on others to choose for him relieved him of that pain and worry.

    “If you're thinking of slipping away in the confusion of battle, I'd advise you not to try. You may have noticed a scar on your arm which wasn't there before. That scar is from the implantation of a GPS tracking device which constantly broadcasts your exact location, so if you attempt to run, you will be tracked down and... returned to us,” Sergeant Alexander continued. At the mention of “scar on your arm”, most of the people in the room reached over to either their left or right arm; Alan refrained from joining in on the mutated hokey-pokey for he had already examined the scar before. Alan had not even given hints at wishing to slip away, and the device in his arm was yet another incentive to obey. He would question orders, but would follow them regardless in the case of the authorities.

    “If you have any questions, ask them now,” Alexander said. “There won't be time later. If no one has any questions, we'll move out and get ready for combat.”

    Oleander had always wondered what would happen if the Digivice were to break, but he kept that to himself. The others asked perfectly reasonable questions that had to do with whether or not they would receive compensation for this; whether or not one’s “citizen’s duty” was still applicable if one was not from the USA; if they could die; and some other general mutterings of resentment. A pair was arguing – the female seemed to be less angry and more bouncy, but the male was spewing complaints as if that was going to stop them from fighting. Alan decided that being wary of the female one would be best as those types of girls had always been talking loudly around him, tried to get him to join in on their conversations, and tried to look at the cover of the book he was reading while he was concentrating. The male would probably not bother him.

    “I don't know about the rest of you, but I can hardly fly, let alone fight experienced digimon!" complained the male. Alan had paid attention to their tone of voice rather than what they had said, but he had caught this single line.

    Oleander agreed with him on this: he had yet to learn how to fly without seeming tipsy, and even less of an idea of how to use his attacks without swerving all over. If he did not concentrate on flying alone he could perform some aerial maneuvers on complete accident that would make trick-flying pilots jealous, but he tended to end up further away from his target than he had been before – flying like a drunkard would have to do. He could use his claw attack like that, but hovering to use his gaze to paralyze a target was beyond his means until he learned to use his four eyes to perceive his distance properly. He guessed that on the third time of transforming he would achieve that for he had learned the claw attack the first time and started on the staring the second time. His tail was useful as a means for balance, but there was a claw at the end of it that he had yet to use.

    He would wait to attack until ordered to, yet he was not sure that he could harm something that even had the appearance of life. Self-defense sounded like a worthy cause to execute those who attacked humanity, and the the sacrifice of thirteen lives was better then the whole of humanity. He wondered if some of the gentler among the crowd could handle the fight -- he counted himself in that group for he disliked even squishing bugs. On the whole people considered that he was taking the change well, but no-one had asked him of his opinion on how it feel to end a life...he would silently obey and hide behind an indifferent demeanor.
    Last edited by Corrosion; 18th March 2013 at 12:01 AM.
    Quote Originally Posted by bobandbill
    Quote Originally Posted by zomegax7249
    So now it's not enough that we beat the NPCs, now we have to steal their clothes as well? Isn't this basically mugging them?
    Suddenly the aim of the Pokémon games is apparent. It isn't to catch them all, or to be the best trainer, or to learn about the values of friendship with strange monsters that can breathe fire and whatnot.

    It's to beat up other people for their hats and jackets.
    3DS FC: 0018-1095-7707
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  8. #8
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    Elizabeth Liz Rosenthal
    Bleak Room


    If not for the vague sense that she had stopped moving, Liz likely would have arrived in the room asleep. As it was, physical therapy for the day had left her tired, and being put right back in a chair afterward was practically screaming for her to doze off. Why did they have to schedule it for right before an "important meeting," anyway?

    Every day the physicians had been putting Liz through specialized workouts, trying to get a feel for her condition. Of course, she was no doctor, but Liz was pretty sure that ship has sailed. In the... how long had it been? A couple weeks, at least. In any case, she hadn't felt like she could wield a spoon any better than she could before she came here. But the medics around here were convinced that her sclerosis had at least stopped developing entirely. So maybe she could improve down the line or something? But for now, she was still stuck in her wheelchair, and at least wouldn't get worse. Whether or not that that was a good thing.

    Of course, being put in this situation at all had a lot of side-effects. But you could ask any one of the other "patients" sitting around the room about that. They'd probably have all sorts of fun things to tell. Liz had only experienced what most people considered the more interesting byproduct of her surgery twice, and both times very controlled. Just like everything else around here. Orderly and scheduled and sterile. Not that she minded too much - it was just that much less effort she had to put in. At this stage, Liz could essentially skate by without so much as having to travel the halls on her own, and it was generally seen to that she didn't. Given how military this whole place was - she would hesitate to call it any sort of hospital - whoever was in charge of her situation probably wanted to keep as tight of a reign on her as possible, and to be frank, her condition didn't exactly make that the most difficult of prospects.

    Meaning that this nondescript room - and beyond being remarkably plain it really did defy description - was exactly where she was permitted and expected to be, a notion evidenced by the armed guards making very sure of who was and wasn't inside. She hadn't been told much about why, exactly. Well, maybe she had, and just didn't hear well enough. No loss, really. Not like she was allowed to do much else besides sit in a cramped bedroom and read in between whatever the surgeons and physicians wanted her for that day. Which was a great deal more than the others around the room, but the surgeons had called her a "special case." Special here just meaning that the others' ability to walk wasn't in question.

    A lazy look around the room, her eyes still drooping half-closed, she guessed at a dozen other people, most of them around her own age, stuck in here with her to wait with her. More than twice as many guys as girls. All various degrees of exasperated, confused and straight-up dissatisfied. None of them able to do a thing about it. Hence Liz's current strategy: stop caring so much. Whatever they were called in here for was going to happen either way, and it wasn't exactly like they weren't being taken care of. The only real complaint to be had was that everything around here was so bleak and utilitarian, but even that could be almost completely ignored by a combination of napping and occupying her own mind with other things, two tasks at which she luckily already excelled.

    Those less passive than she was were itching with impatience by the time Lloyd came bouncing into the room. She didn't even have to look up to know who it was - Dr. Lloyd was about the only person on this base who had such an obnoxious amount of energy on a regular basis. One one hand, it had a way of getting irritating, but on the other, he was kind of entertaining to watch in short amounts. And he did have a way of making all that he was mostly responsible for putting them through not seem like such an upsetting ordeal. Like how right now he was taking something about "Digimon" and "strut your stuff," then strolled off just as easily. Liz just rolled her head to the side to let it rest on her left shoulder. She didn't catch the whole spiel, but it probably translated to not much more than introducing all the people here to one another and having them show off the results of their surgery. She did recognize one or two as fellow patients - safe to say that Dr. Lloyd had operated on everyone in the room. Especially safe to say for the few who were anxiously looking around like they might be able to still get out of whatever it was they were in. No such luck.

    Then the Sergeant walked in. Well, that probably wasn't his real rank, but it didn't really matter enough for Liz to keep track of. He was a big-looking man with short-cut hair like the rest of them, so she just mentally filed him under "Sarge" like the rest of them. Every soldier around here tended to look the same to her, anyway, which was probably the idea. It was a form of intimidation, or so she had read somewhere or another. Apparently this particular one was here to be in charge of her and her peers, given his tone. Liz's ears perked and her posture went rigid - Sarges always got really cranky if they didn't feel like you were paying attention. Luckily, they usually kept their speeches succinct in turn. For example, Sarge Miles' (that was this particular Sarge's name) was kept to just a few points:

    - The usual speech about how they needed to do their best to serve the country and so forth, despite not really having any say in the matter either way.
    - Digimon were going to be showing up nearby, so they were going to be sent out for a combat field test sort of thing.
    - Trying to escape while they were let out was seven kinds of stupid, so don't bother.

    Liz sunk back in her wheelchair. So about what she would expect from the personnel around here. Y'know, except the second bit. Putting them out to fight for their lives when they'd basically not been trained at all? Lloyd really was mad as a hatter. Except that nobody used that phrase anyway, and she was almost certain that they'd have military backup of some sort if they were being given a military briefing by a Sarge. Not that it was stopping the others from immediately harping up with complaints and sarcastic comments. Understandable. Still not helpful.

    Just clam up so we can get on with it.

  9. #9
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    Alexander stared at the group as some hurled their anger at him, some more subdued. He was reading them now, picking up on the angry ones and finding those acting cooperatively. He knew their names, having read their files. He first fixed his gaze on Nicholas, the loudest voice of opposition.

    "A hundred years ago, someone your age could have been called up to fight," he said, clearly not relishing this argument. "We're at war. The boundaries of nations don't matter when all of mankind is at war. You're not just soldiers of America, you're soldiers of mankind." He paused. "Normal weapons and tactics are ineffectual against Digimon most of the time. This was a last resort project, put into action only because everything else short of nuclear weapons has been used."

    Charlene stared at him through the crowd and spoke. "He's right. This is wrong." She paused, drawing courage from Nicholas' objection. "You can't just steal people from their homes, their friends and family. It's wrong. He," she indicated Nicholas, moving to stand next to him, "had a good question. Why us? Why not soldiers? Clearly it works or you wouldn't be a Bio-Hybrid."

    Alexander fixed her with a look. "It doesn't. That's the problem." He sighed, holding his Digivice close to his mouth. "Professor, could you come back here please? I don't know enough about the incompatibility to explain it." There was a crackle in response, and he nodded. "Thank you." He pocketed the device again. "Professor Lloyd will be back here shortly. He can explain better than me what the issue is. As for the question of fighting, you won't die. Not if we can act as a team. You have doubts now, that's understandable. But once you're actually there, fighting, it'll come to you. You'll know what to do. I did."

    "We're not soldiers," Charlene said quietly. "We're not like you."

    "That's right... you're not. Not at all," he thought. Elijah's question came back to him, and he turned to the young man. "Talking to your parents is impossible."

    "Why?" Charlene challenged. "What have you done to them?"

    "Nothing," he responded, but he could see anger rising in her eyes. Charlene was shy and meek, but clearly, she could only be pushed so far. "We've done nothing to them."

    "Then why can't we see them?!" she snapped. She herself was stunned by how she was acting. She had never snapped at someone like this, but it was exciting and felt right. "Are you going to lock us up like criminals?!"

    The doors to the room burst open, and a man strode in, Professor Lloyd following meekly in his wake. The man was tall and grizzled and scarred, a war veteran through and through. His hair was cut shorter than Alexander's, marred by ridges of scar tissue which ran all across his scalp, three great lines clearly inflicted by claws. A bulky, ugly pistol was buckled to his hip, his sleeves camoflague shirt clinging to his every chest muscle and baring more scars on his arms. The man looked grim and brutal, and probably wouldn't have seemed out of place in a video game or action movie as the more grizzled protagonist to Alexander's more traditional heroic image.

    "What's going on in here, sergeant?!" the man barked.

    "Just some questions from the recruits, sir," Alexander reported. The man turned to glare over the Bio-Hybrids, his stare menacing and ordering them to submit. Charlene found herself shrinking in response to it, crushed by the glare.

    "I am Colonel Grant," the man growled. His default tone seemed rough and harsh, as though the words were ashes scraped out from his throat. "I am the senior officer in charge of this facility, and therefore, the highest authority regarding you mongrels."

    "Mongrels?" Charlene replied, her voice barely audible. Grant fixed his stare on her and she tried to hide herself from view.

    "If it were my decision, you wouldn't be here," he continued. "This whole project is some government joke to try making up for my boys being unable to fight the enemy. If I had my way, funds wouldn't be going into this science freakshow, it'd be going to making guns and armor for my men to fight this battle themselves. Digitized DNA or-" Lloyd tried to protest, but was waved down by a savage gesture, "otherwise, you aren't soldiers. Just a bunch of whiny kids. Unfortunately for you, it wasn't my say. Some suit up in Washington had this all done to you. So shut your pie holes, the lot of you, and follow our orders. It's not our fault you're here and I'm not going to tolerate a bunch of whiny kids." He gestured to the brutal scars on his scalp. "I got these in DC. Went in with my men to fight some... 'Devidramon' or something, ran into it and got my head near damn clawed off. I could get it fixed up, I guess, if Digimon hadn't leeched all the budget out of everything, but I guess it reminds me of what the hell I'm fighting against. You kids are lucky. You've got your fancy science things and your turning into monsters. If I had it my way, you wouldn't have that crap to yourselves. My men would have it and you'd all be off at home, crying to mommy 'cause some brat kicked you or stole your candy."

    "Why can't you just do it to your men?" Charlene whimpered.

    "Lloyd, let them have it," Grant muttered. "This science stuff pisses me off." Lloyd stepped forwards with a glance at Grant, before sighing and speaking.

    "Essentially, when we first began our prototype process on the Bio-Hybrid program, we had two test subjects," he explained. "They were chosen for aptitude, physical fitness, that sort of thing. One of them was, obviously, Sergeant Miles here." He indicated Alexander, who seemed distant in memories all of a sudden. "The other was, well, you don't need to know his name. When we began the process, and went through the splicing process, it seemed to go just fine. But once it was complete, when we had them transform, something went wrong with the other subject."

    Alexander remembered.

    "Bio-Hybrid Digivolution, activate!" He felt his body burst, felt warmth and light surge through his form and knit him back together. He towered up, rising up in that crimson and black dinosaur form, roaring before getting control of the new form. He opened his eyes, staring down at Professor Lloyd, who gave him a smile and a thumbs up back. His gaze turned to the other subject, and as Lloyd looked too, the smile faded abruptly.

    The other subject was on his knees, beginning to howl with agony. His flesh seemed to boil, somewhere between human and an eerie, unnatural white. His feet were bursting, one half still human, the other savage insect-like claw. He looked up and revealed a nightmarish face, screaming with a mouth half human teeth, half bristling fangs, one eyes tortured and human, the other utterly red and cold and full of hate. His spine twisted and crunched, bony spines piercing his back with blood boiling around their bases.

    "Byron!" Alexander cried, his voice rumbling from the dinosaur's throat as he watched his friend twist and scream.

    "Shut it down, shut it down!" Lloyd cried urgently. "Something's wrong!" Byron screamed, rising to his feet and revealed a malformed arm, his fingers bunching with the skin seemingly melting away, leaving two fingers each fused into a hideous claw, his thumb also a claw. Spikes raked through his skin, trying to fuse into an exoskeleton seemingly but failing. The flawed hybrid lunged at Lloyd, screaming something utterly inhuman and beyond understanding.

    "No!" Alexander cried. He lumbered forwards, instinct adapting him to the form, and struck at Byron, hurling him across the room. The human-Digimon chimera smashed into the opposing wall with a sickening crunch, falling to the floor to reveal cracked bone spikes. He clawed himself to his feet with his still human human, still screaming as he lunged again. A soldier stepped forward and opened fire, but the bullets rebounded from the Digimon flesh to no effect. The man screamed as Byron caught him, claws raking flesh as the hybrid tackled him down. Horrific screams mingled with Byron's insane roars as more soldiers fired. Byron howled as a bullet penetrated fused, still human flesh, drawing up blood. The Growlmon struck, grasping up his malformed friend desperately and crashing him into the wall again. He glared at the raging monstrosity. "Byron! Stop! Turn back, I know you can turn back!"


    "The other subject didn't have a specific mutation in his DNA which Sergeant Miles did," Lloyd explained. "From what we can guess, the mutation eases the hybridisation process, making it more likely to succeed. Otherwise it will... fail in the same manner that caused the end of that test subject. That's why we had to choose you. The mutation occurs in less then one percent of the human population, and no other soldier serving for the US had it. Believe me, if it could be otherwise... I would not have done this to you. But innocent people are dying every day due to Digimon attacks. We cannot find another way to stop them and this is our best hope. I'm sorry, but it had to be like this."

    "Yes, yes, good," Colonel Grant rumbled, stepping forward. "Now that the science is done, all of you, follow Sergeant Miles here. He'll get you ready for combat. And by God, none of you screw this up, or may He give you His mercy, because I certainly won't be extending any of mine." With that, he strode out, taking an apologetic-looking Lloyd with him.

    "Come with me," Alexander said, emerging from his reverie. His eyes looked clouded now, haunted by the memory of what had happened to Byron. He led the Hybrids out from the room, soldiers moving to escort them through the complex, still thinking on those cold memories. Charlene stared after him as she followed, wondering just what he had seen back then to make his eyes seem so full of pain now.

    She turned to Nicholas. "You're right," she said. "Even with that... this isn't right. I... I'm sorry about what happened to you."
    [CENTER]

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  10. #10
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    Elijah Styx
    That room everyone use different names for


    Tension had started to rise in the small group of bio-hybrids, as the military guy, Alexander, was tryning to explain the situation the best he could. He was basically scolding them like disobediant children, and Elijah felt ashamed. It wasn't that bad, being a bio-hybrid. at least not in his case. He did hoever, not enjoy it. far from it. He just did not dislike it as much as the others. This girl, Charlene appeared to be her name, went on with a lot of questions Elijah was sure was on everybodys mind. But when she brought up the topic of their parents and families, Alexander went shut, and would not tell them anything. This upset Elijah, who suddenly started worrying for his parents safety. Alexander did his best to ensure their safety, but there was something about him that made Elijah suspicious.. No... made him sure he did not tell them the entire truth

    Suddenly, some strict-looking guy entered. He introduced himself formally as Colonel Grant. He spoke to them as if they were soliders, and obviously did not approov of their prescence, saying he'd prefer raw force over whiny little kids, as he called them.

    "Annoying, annoying, annoying, annoying, annoying...." Elijah muttered in silence as his rage grew

  11. #11
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    "A hundred years ago, someone your age could have been called up to fight," he said, clearly not relishing this argument. "We're at war. The boundaries of nations don't matter when all of mankind is at war. You're not just soldiers of America, you're soldiers of mankind." He paused. "Normal weapons and tactics are ineffectual against Digimon most of the time. This was a last resort project, put into action only because everything else short of nuclear weapons has been used."

    Nicholas grunted and folded his arms. "We may be at war, but you know as well as I do that there are rules of war. You people know that you're doing something wrong by doing this to us. We were all abducted and tested on under the facade of a medical exam, and we're not allowed any outside contact since we're all basically on leads. This whole project is something clandestine. The reason for that is that they know the public and the official bodies of the world would object to this, isn't it?"

    Before he could say anything else, a meek-looking girl spoke up as well. He felt some relief knowing that there were other upset by all this too.

    However, it was cut short when a hulking, intimidating commissioned officer stormed in, followed by Professor Lloyd, who meandered in after him. By the build and expression of the officer, Nick was starting to wish it was just the Professor in there.

    The man known as Colonel Grant came in and started mouthing off to them. Nick wanted to retort, but he wasn't quite brave enough in that moment. Unlike the Sergeant, Grant didn't look like he'd think twice about ripping him in half. Instead, he decided to just wear an angry scowl on his face while voicing his thoughts internally.

    "The other subject didn't have a specific mutation in his DNA which Sergeant Miles did," Lloyd explained. "From what we can guess, the mutation eases the hybridisation process, making it more likely to succeed. Otherwise it will... fail in the same manner that caused the end of that test subject. That's why we had to choose you. The mutation occurs in less then one percent of the human population, and no other soldier serving for the US had it. Believe me, if it could be otherwise... I would not have done this to you. But innocent people are dying every day due to Digimon attacks. We cannot find another way to stop them and this is our best hope. I'm sorry, but it had to be like this."

    "Yes, yes, good," Colonel Grant rumbled, stepping forward. "Now that the science is done, all of you, follow Sergeant Miles here. He'll get you ready for combat. And by God, none of you screw this up, or may He give you His mercy, because I certainly won't be extending any of mine." With that, he strode out, taking an apologetic-looking Lloyd with him.

    "Oh, great," Violet said, folding her arms. "No pressure or anything."

    With Alexander's word, Nick and Violet started following him out of the room along with the other subjects. They met their soldier escort and started walking through the building.

    "Hey, I'm just happy to be able to get some fresh air," Violet said aloud.

    Nick couldn't say that he was as optimistic. At least ninety years ago in the Second World War, conscripts were trained how to be pilots. He would have to teach himself in the thick of combat. After all, what human could teach him how to be an Aquilamon? The only ones that could teach him how to be an Aquilamon were other Aquilamon, and he didn't really fancy being mentored by some of the things that had been attacking their world for the past seven to eight years.

    To his surprise, he found that girl who stuck up for him walking beside him.

    "You're right," Charlene said. "Even with that... this isn't right. I... I'm sorry about what happened to you."

    Nick offered her a weak smile. "You don't need to apologise to me. You're in the same situation that I am," he responded. He observed her carefully for a moment. "I'm sorry too. You don't seem like the kind of girl who should be forced to be a soldier. Well... nobody should be forced to be a soldier, but... you know what I mean."

    "My name's Nicholas Barlow, by the way," he said, offering his hand. "Call me Nick, though." He glanced around at all the soldiers, as well as looking down the hall. "As for this not being right, I'm glad you feel that way too. I'm still trying to think of a way to get out of this situation."

    He looked down at his arm bearing the surgical scar, in which the GPS device was implanted. "I'm not brave enough to try and undo that surgery. For now, I guess we'll have to go along with this. The cogs are still ticking though."

    Meanwhile, Violet went along with the group, more near the tail end of it. She was honestly a little excited for the battle, if not pretty nervous too. She fought with her brothers before, but never in an actually serious fight. Certainly not one where her life was on the line.

    However, she was confident in her ability to use her Gaogamon form. She picked it up relatively quickly and she was able to run at low speeds, as well as do uncomplicated tasks with the ribbon-arm things. She supposed it was just like riding a bike or learning to swim.

    She found herself walking beside the girl in the wheelchair whose name she didn't know - the one who looked half-asleep most of the time. Violet couldn't really blame her, as it often got pretty boring in the complex over large amounts of time.

    Violet turned to her. While she was curious about her condition, that was probably too personal of a thing to ask. She did have to wonder about the upcoming battle though.

    "Heya," Violet said to Elizabeth. "My name's Violet, if you didn't know already. What's yours?"

    She looked her over. "Gotta ask. Are you going to be fine for this 'anticipated Digimon influx'?" For the last three words, she made a point to deepen her voice to try and imitate Alexander's voice. "I'm guessing you won't need a wheelchair in your digimon form? Or is it custom-fitted with a rocket launcher or something?" Violet asked with an upbeat grin. "With Lloydy, I wouldn't be surprised."
    Claimed: Grovyle - November 10th, 2013
    Chapter 17 is up.

  12. #12
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    <OOC> Garr, how does I English?

    Paxton Marquell

    Hospitals were terrible places. They were cold, sterile, and sickly pale. Though, at the very least, a hospital included a chance of getting better. This was the type of room in which one waited to die. It was drab, impersonal, and quite boring, which was absolutely typical of the military. Every one of the boring, bald bastards was perfectly willing to bend over and bare *** whenever a superior wandered by, and they were utterly lacking in any sort of humor. Sure, they may have been ordered to be impassive, but “just following orders” didn’t save the Nazis, did it?

    The other members of the little mutant brotherhood were a tad better, though most of them were only kids. It seemed that the government didn’t care how old you were, so long as you could be fused with an internet monster...

    ---

    The person in the mirror was surprisingly familiar. His hair was longer, his visage fairer, and his eyes shone a crimson red, but otherwise he was not so different from the human being Paxton remembered. Paxton reached out with a white-gloved hand stretching his fingers. He felt faster, lighter, utterly exceptional, really. The kind of exceptional where one could play ‘Flight of the Bumblebee’ one-handed.

    “At least I’m still pretty,” Paxton murmured, pulling the green feathered cap from his head and rubbing his hair. “Hey doc, you sure this wasn’t just a bit of plastic surgery?”

    A man in a lab coat – presumably a scientist – spoke up. “Petermon, a fairy-type. It’s fairly humanoid, so you should have little trouble adjusting, especially if your psychological profile is accurate. Your music should have... effects. The data suits you, yes?”

    “Just think wonderful thoughts, eh, doc? This is incredible, though. Turning us into digimon… bloody hell, I wish I knew how you managed it.”

    “Maybe one day,” the scientist replied.


    ---

    Gladly, Doctor Lloyd soon returned. The good doctor was perhaps the only member of the establishment that had enough personality to fill a teaspoon. In fact, he could probably fill a great number of teaspoons. One might even have to dip into the tablespoons for this one.

    “Excellent!” Lloyd exclaimed. “Good news, everyone! You're ready for combat!” Of course they were. Who needed practice, anyway? Obviously not them, because they had talent. Killing internet monsters was literally in blood. “Sergeant Miles will be here shortly to brief you and get you ready. We predict a major Digimon incursion in just a few hours, so you should get to really strut your stuff! Good luck!” Apparently that was all the man had to say, as he almost literally bounced from the room immediately afterward.

    “Charming,” Paxton noted brightly. “Doctor, exit stage left.” The aforementioned Sergeant arrived in short order, looking so neat and soldierly that he could be on a propaganda poster. He wouldn’t be very fun, would he? “Aaand, soldier boy, enter stage right.”

    “I'm Sergeant Alexander Miles,” the man said. He looked rather uncomfortable, really, like a man unused to dealing with children. “I'll be your instructor and leader from this point onwards, and I'm a Bio-Hybrid, like you. I know you would probably not choose to be here, however, the United States has been forced to call on you to do your duty as citizens.”

    Paxton rolled his eyes at this. “’Merica!” he cried with an exaggerated little fist pump and a laugh.

    “As such, I can only ask that you carry out that duty to the best of your ability with the power you've been given.” He paused for a moment. “As Professor Lloyd said, the emergence sensors are anticipating a Digimon influx over the next few hours, so we'll be on standby until then. Once Digimon appear, we'll move to their location and eliminate them before they can damage the city or harm people. If you're thinking of slipping away in the confusion of battle, I'd advise you not to try. You may have noticed a scar on your arm which wasn't there before. That scar is from the implantation of a GPS tracking device which constantly broadcasts your exact location, so if you attempt to run, you will be tracked down and... returned to us.”

    “Yes, Mister Miles!” Paxton said in a singsong tone. It was a shame, but he’d have to behave for a little while. No point in fruitless escape attempts. Better to wait for an opportune moment to leave. Once he was free, his new powers would prove very useful. On the other hand, Little Miley had at least some talent for melodrama. Perhaps there was hope for him after all. Soldiers, like dogs, were usually well trained… they could probably be taught some simple show tunes. Paxton hummed a little tune idly, considering Miley on the stage. He could probably pull off a part in The Civil War…

    The other hybrids were not so calm. They were mostly kids, after all. Miley calmly and coolly rebuffed them, though he obviously found the matter distasteful. Paxton found himself liking the poor guy. He wasn’t much better off than they were, really, seeing that he was a mutant just like they were.

    The most important question asked was why they couldn’t get soldiers to be hybrids. It seemed perfectly reasonable to screw with the guys who’d volunteered to get shafted, rather than dragging everyone else into the damned fight. The Sergeant called the good doctor back in to answer that question – hadn’t he just left? – as he apparently did not have the science knowledge to explain it all. Paxton was actually quite interested in the answer, as apparently it was more academic than tactical. Not that getting kids to fight made any tactical sense, of course.

    Lloyd returned to save the day with some exposition. Unfortunately, he was joined by a big, ugly looking man who appeared to be half muscle, half scar tissue, and one hundred percent dick.

    "I am Colonel Grant. I am the senior officer in charge of this facility, and therefore, the highest authority regarding you mongrels."

    All right, perhaps 120% dick.

    "If it were my decision, you wouldn't be here," Scarface continued. "This whole project is some government joke to try making up for my boys being unable to fight the enemy. If I had my way, funds wouldn't be going into this science freakshow, it'd be going to making guns and armor for my men to fight this battle themselves. Digitized DNA or-" Lloyd tried to interject with some correction or other, but was waved off, "otherwise, you aren't soldiers. Just a bunch of whiny kids. Unfortunately for you, it wasn't my say. Some suit up in Washington had this all done to you. So shut your pie holes, the lot of you, and follow our orders. It's not our fault you're here and I'm not going to tolerate a bunch of whiny kids." He gestured to the brutal scars on his scalp. "I got these in DC. Went in with my men to fight some... 'Devidramon' or something, ran into it and got my head near damn clawed off. I could get it fixed up, I guess, if Digimon hadn't leeched all the budget out of everything, but I guess it reminds me of what the hell I'm fighting against. You kids are lucky. You've got your fancy science things and your turning into monsters. If I had it my way, you wouldn't have that crap to yourselves. My men would have it and you'd all be off at home, crying to mommy 'cause some brat kicked you or stole your candy."

    The look on the man’s face could freeze blood. There was a seriousness, a certain deadliness in his tone that made it absolutely clear that Colonel Grant was not a man to be f**ked with. He seemed to be the kind of man who, by virtue of his presence alone, expected fear and respect.

    Of course, Paxton immediately burst out laughing. “Bloody hell, I’m quaking in my little boots. Cool your tits, Fido. I understand that this is an alpha male thing, with all the ****-waving, but trying to scare us isn’t going to help save your damned world, is it? I won’t tolerate a whiny superior officer, boss.”

    Ah, but Scarface was utterly unimportant. Lloyd was explaining the mutation in the DNA, which allowed the whole digimon fusion thing to work without melting into a puddle of goo. Apparently, none of the other soldiers had it, which struck Paxton as rather ridiculous, if one did even a little arithmetic.

    “Not a one? Is that what the suits are telling us? Out of the millions of soldiers serving Captain America, you only had two guys with this gene? One percent of a million is ten thousand people. Even if it only occurred in a ten thousandth of a percent, there would still be at reasonable chance of having one out of a million, and I’m pretty sure there are more than a million people serving in the US military, not to mention abroad,” Paxton mused aloud. He paused. “Er, I mean, bulls**t.”

    But alas, no time for in-depth questioning. There were places to go and monsters to kill. Miley led the motley crew to war, a grim look in his eyes. They met their escorts who marched them through the facility toward whatever place they needed to be.

    Alas, such doom and gloom. Entirely blasé, Paxton hummed a few notes, then lifted his voice up into song.

    "Oh, oh, oh, it's a lovely war,
    Who wouldn't be a soldier, eh?
    Oh, it's a shame to take the pay;
    As soon as reveille is gone,
    We feel just as heavy as lead,
    But we never get up till the sergeant
    Brings us breakfast up to bed!"
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  13. #13
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    Liz Rosenthal
    Bleak Room


    To Sarge Miles' credit, he was doing a pretty good job of knocking down all the questions and complaints as they popped up. Of course, most of their grievances didn't have a lot of substance to them, anyway, if the way they were nearly shouting was anything to go by. Just the usual "let us go" and "why us?" complaints that every trapped protagonist ever seemed to go through. The only one that she heard in any sort of calm voice (from a boy too far down the line-up for her to get a good look) was about the selection process, and that the Sarge had to deflect by calling Lloyd right back in. Weren't the doctors saying that the process was supposed to be based on their physiology, though? Either he didn't catch on, or being cooped up in the medical ward all the time just gave her a better grapevine to listen through. More likely the second. He could have the benefit of the doubt there.

    Any further objections were put on hold - two more men entered the room, namely Doc Lloyd trailing a bit less lively than usual behind another Sarge - the latter instantly introduced himself as a Colonel, but he fit the standard Sarge image than Miles did. And not one of the better images, either - not much to look at beyond being seven kinds of bulky and having a claw-mark scar across his face, the kind used for cheap intimidation factor. Except the rest of his stance was already doing that - all the marks on his body just made him look even grumpier than he already was. Liz shifted in her seat, giving the appearance of attention, though most of his speech was safely ignored. Nothing like the stereotypical "I'm in charge but can't get rid of you, so I'll be condescending instead" speech to make a good first impression. Good try, Sarge Beefhead, but you hate this setup just as much as we do. Deal.

    Luckily, he didn't get to complain too much before Lloyd jumped in. Now this would be worth something - Liz popped an eye open and perked up her ears just in case, but they drooped back down by the end of the first sentence. Evidently he was just giving the story version, and not even a spiced-up one like she might expect of the doctor. In fact, the only bit of real information was that yes, they had been chosen for this "program" based on being biologically compatible, apparently not a common trait. The rest was largely fluff about how Sarge Miles had passed in the early stages and another Sarge hadn't. Liz likely would have zoned the whole thing out if Sarge Miles didn't look a smidgen put off by the story. Just in case, she mentally filed a synopsis - his introduction made it seem like they would be dealing with Sarge Miles quite a bit in the future.

    With one last cranky interjection, the larger Sarge and loopy professor took back off to whatever they were doing, and Miles gave the order to move out. Liz rolled her head back, waiting to be carted off to some unknown location - it took her a good ten seconds to realize that everyone one vacating the room. Nobody was approaching her. Her expression softening somewhat, Liz grabbed the wheels of her chair and joined the tail end of the line heading out. First time that she was allowed to roam the halls on her own power, and it was as part of a convoy. Figured. Still, might as well take your victories where you can.

    So, to summarize: the guys in charge were throwing a bunch of people completely untrained into an open war situation. Assuming that the others had a similar experience here (which she was already on track to disproving), they had only been allowed to experience what Lloyd had described to her as "the main benefits of this program" less than a handful of times, none of those in such a way as to prepare them for an open fight. Lovely. Even more lovely if some of her assumptions didn't play out.

    "Heya."

    Elizabeth was blindsided from her thoughts by one of her peers. Barely younger than herself, generally in good spirits, one of those names that doubled as a noun... Violet. That was the one.

    "I'm Liz," she introduced herself curtly with a nod. She grasped around in her mind for a topic of conversation, though not for long before Violet beat her to it. Voiced her concern over whether Liz was up to this operation. Liz lolled her head to the side - it was a bit of a tired song, the question of whether she could handle herself, but at least Violet was clearly doing so in good humor. Even slipped in a jab about turning into some Digimon with a weaponized wheelchair. Stole a smile out of her.

    ...Digimon. Yes, that was the bottom line here. Crazy-strong animals, a lot of them humanoid, and all of them defying known science. No consistent intelligence, either - some had shown up under human control a while back, but most just went crashing through urban areas without rhyme or reason. A giant, dangerous wild card. All the worse that the current countermeasure was to fight fire with fire...

    But more on that later.

    Liz gave half a chuckle and responded "Well, like they said, we didn't get picked for being soldier material. Good thing for me - I wouldn't get very far. Har-dee har har." She gave a pointedly fake laugh at her own pun and slapped the side of her wheelchair.

    "Nah, when we get there, I'll get my legs and be fighting the same as you," she assured. "Which will be interesting, given that this is our first time out of the compound. Not dangerous, mind, just interesting. No doubt the higher-ups will give us all sorts of backup. Won't let their trump card be taken out of the game so quickly. Dunno what the others are so terrified of." Liz shrugged. She did know what they were so terrified of - military-style combat was new to all of them, of course. Still, objectively, there little threat to be had.

    At least in theory.

  14. #14
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    Oleander Medeiros

    Oleander had noticed that Dr. Lloyd had left, which was comforting, but then a question that the sergeant could not answer was asked, and so the doctor was coming back. Alan had hoped that the questions would delay their inevitable deployment, but that was not going to be. He commended the girl on her display of bravery, but was discouraged from debating on whether to play a scene out in his head by the doctor tailing a scarred, brawny, and tall person who had obviously participated in the war by the claw marks on his forehead. Or he had merely run into a modified pitchfork that had a thing for lacerating foreheads. Either way, Alan was not keen on knowing which one it had been.

    "I am Colonel Grant," the man nearly snarled. His tone, voice, and appearance all matched each other in Alan’s mind. "I am the senior officer in charge of this facility, and therefore, the highest authority regarding you mongrels."

    Alan took no offense at being called “mongrel”; he supposed that, to take out his anger without violence, the Colonel had to start somewhere. Grant was likely irritated that the soldiers that he commanded were inadequately prepared for the Digimon and had had the available funding funneled elsewhere.

    "If it were my decision, you wouldn't be here," he said, and continued, "this whole project is some government joke to try making up for my boys being unable to fight the enemy. If I had my way, funds wouldn't be going into this science freakshow, it'd be going to making guns and armor for my men to fight this battle themselves. Digitized DNA or-" Dr. Lloyd appeared as if he was going to counter that statement, but Grant was determined to continue his rant, "otherwise, you aren't soldiers. Just a bunch of whiny kids. Unfortunately for you, it wasn't my say. Some suit up in Washington had this all done to you. So shut your pie holes, the lot of you, and follow our orders. It's not our fault you're here and I'm not going to tolerate a bunch of whiny kids."

    That confirmed Alan’s guess – the Colonel was upset and taking his anger out on the people who had not wanted the transformation either. When people grew angry, Alan had learned they turned to nearest available person, or group, that was even remotely related to the cause of their anger. Adults usually learned to control it better, but this one seemed to have a personal problem with the Bio-Hybrids.

    His hand waved at the scars on his forehead. "I got these in DC. Went in with my men to fight some... 'Devidramon' or something, ran into it and got my head near damn clawed off.”

    ’So that is what I can do. How did he run into one, though? It seems awfully difficult to just run into a demonic dragon twice the height of a normal person,’ he thought, carefully keeping his mind from treading the tracks of “when will I have to claw someone’s head off?” and such other thoughts that were detrimental to keeping his state of barely restrained panic from discarding the “restrained” part of it and rampaging. His imagination was, unfortunately, quite eager to shower him with vivid images on the subject of what a Devidramon can do if given sufficient motivation. Claws that dripped with the prey’s blood; teeth that tore into all-too-soft flesh; and wings that steadily beat against the sky, elevating the dragon to a point where it could see its new victim – a monster he told himself that he wasn’t.

    Outside of Alan’s daydream-nightmare, Colonel Grant resumed talking, but it did not interest the Bio-Hybrid; nevertheless, he would remember it and its contents. ’Ah, so he is following suit on being condescending to the civilians.’ Dr. Lloyd’s explanation behind the choosing of the Bio-Hybrids, on the other hand, did.

    "The other subject didn't have a specific mutation in his DNA which Sergeant Miles did," Lloyd explained to the otherwise-clueless group. "From what we can guess, the mutation eases the hybridisation process, making it more likely to succeed. Otherwise it will... fail in the same manner that caused the end of that test subject. That's why we had to choose you. The mutation occurs in less than one percent of the human population, and no other soldier serving for the US had it. Believe me, if it could be otherwise... I would not have done this to you. But innocent people are dying every day due to Digimon attacks. We cannot find another way to stop them and this is our best hope. I'm sorry, but it had to be like this."

    ’”No other soldier”. So that’s why. I only wished that they would have told us far earlier; those rows could have been avoided.’ People had complemented Alan on his acclimation to his new home, but it was merely his obeying of orders, and now he knew why he and thirteen others were selected. He had suspected that there were other Bio-Hybrids…but only thirteen? He was beginning to share Grant’s doubts on whether they could turn the tides.

    The sergeant, who had remained quiet for quite some time now, snapped out of looking like a newly de-frosted fish. His eyes seemed to hold a pain unfathomable to Alan, but the 17-year-old would never ask. He would merely lurk and eavesdrop until the truth was mentioned; although, he did have a guess that it was about the failed Bio-Hybrid. “Come with me,” Alexander said, turning away from the small group. Oleander quietly trailed in the middle of the group and did not attempt to communicate with any of his fellows. One of the blond-haired ones was being rather profane, but Alan ignored that – being cohesive was what the group needed, not sarcasm. The bouncy female went over to chat with the person in the wheelchair; the boy who had complained before was still muttering something, just under his breath this time; and Oleander walked on without comment.
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    Suddenly the aim of the Pokémon games is apparent. It isn't to catch them all, or to be the best trainer, or to learn about the values of friendship with strange monsters that can breathe fire and whatnot.

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  15. #15
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    (OOC: Totally forgot about this, that's why it took me so long. Felix's section is a bit shorter because I had trouble thinking stuff up this time.)

    Ken Blackstock

    Ken stood in the corner of the crowded room, watching the others. Some of them seemed tense or hateful of the situation, but Ken loved it. He had his live ripped apart and friends killed by the Digimon attacks. He would miss his family, but they barely talked anymore after the latest move. Ken had been locking himself off from the outside world to stop from getting hurt, but now he would get to do the hurting. The doctor, the ever eccentric Professor Lloyd, entered the room humming. Ken could stand the man, though only because he hasn't had a reason to hate him yet. Being forced to risk his life might just change that. The professor announced that they were finally combat ready and would be heading out soon, but first they would be talked to by Sergeant Miles.

    Ken wrapped a hand around the device in his pocket. He had only used it in controlled tests, but his combat chance was coming soon. The image of his monstrous dinosaurian BlackGrowlmon form he took when bio-hybridized flashed in his head. The sergeant introduced himself as their mentor and one of the original bio-hybrids. He also explained the GPS chip in each of them. I wasn't planning on running anyways, Ken thought. Two people, some guy from the United Kingdom and another about being dragged into this. One of the others complained about not being experienced enough. Sergeant Miles explained away the thought process used to turn teenagers into government slaves and soldiers.

    Lloyd took over explaining the science behind the whole thing. Something about DNA mutations and adding stuff to the DNA. It actually seemed kind of cool. This whole thing pushed the realms of reality and imagination. But so did being attacked by interdimensional data creatures immune to guns and tanks. Colonel Grant, a grade A jerk, followed soon. Ken wanted to punch him when he called them Mongrels, but knew that the man could kill him if he tried anything.

    "Come with me," Sergeant Miles commanded. Ken followed him out of the room.


    Felix Bel

    Felix stood in the middle of the group of bio-hybrids. He tried to start conversations, but kept trailing off when trying to figure out what to say and didn't get a chance to talk to anyone. He was trying to take this whole 'kidnapped from home and having to save the world as a mutant freak' thing well. Just remember, you are saving people, he reminded himself. The professor was an interesting man, although his science babble confused Felix.

    The sergeant was a tough guy, but he didn't seem too bad. The mean colonel who came next and called them mongrels was a real jerk though. Felix always hated jerks and even if he wouldn't say anything, this guy really bugged him. He gripped the digivice in his pocket. He remembered the times he used it in training. He felt power surge in his body and even if he was kidnapped and pretty much made a slave, it also made him a protector. And he could stand being a protector. They got the order to move out by the Sergeant, and he left with the group, still trying to figure out what he should say to the others. If he was going to work with them, he wanted them to be his friends.

  16. #16
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    (OOC: Short post is short)

    Dimitri Leoncavallo

    Bicker, bicker, and more bickering, the sounds of the the Army-Boy and some British kid "discussing" the current events, if these guys were supposed to work together and not kill each other at the first chance, well, it seemed that this group was gonna be great at... "discussing" things. The Army Boy, Miles, tried to justify the actions of the US, stating that at times of war how age wasn't a defining characteristic for fighters, to Dimitri, it all sounded like something a governor would say.

    Then they brought in the big gun, a battle hardened man with a large scar on his face, he was apparently the head honcho of this whole Digimon/Genetic Mutation, and he didn't really seem to like one bit of this whole exercise, what with the referring to the kids as mongrels, which really pissed off Dimitri, but it didn't seem like the best time to to back talk, what with the fact that is seems like he'd really wouldn't take that well. The Colonel had the same air of douche bag most of the older men Dimitri had met over his short life, from the police, to the foster fathers that he never stayed with for more then a few days.

    After the "pep talk", the Colonel had told everyone to follow the Sergent to get ready for combat, at least the change of scenery would be nice, and maybe he'd have a chance to talk to a few of the others once they were alone.

  17. #17
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    Charlene took Nicholas' hand, shaking it shyly. "I know... I can't really apologize for all this, but I feel like I should." She paused. "Your family must be... I can't even..." She fell silent again, her eyes sad as she stared down at the grey of the ground. "What do they think's happened to us? Mom... dad... Leon..." She stared at the cursed surface of her Digivice, the symbol of the world they had been dragged into. As she did so, she saw them in her head, all her friends and family. What had they been told? What cover story had the military given them after taking her away? She knew it would involve that virus, but would it just be quarantine? Or would they just kill her off? Leave a grieving family and a town in sorrow, and a cold meaningless gravestone?

    Seeing Nicholas look at his scar, she traced her own with a finger idly, hating the surgical straightness of it. "I don't know if we even can escape," she murmured to him. "I'd like to, but... even if we get these things out of our arms, they'll hunt us, won't they? Because of what they put into us. We'd just be running for the rest of our lives even if we did get away... assuming we don't die in what's about to happen." She looked at him now, staring into his eyes and betraying the fear in her own. "I'm scared, Nicho- Nick. Sorry..." She only just remembered his words. "I just... can we fight Digimon? Even with these," she briefly held up the Digivice, "and even with that guy leading us, I'm scared that we're all just going to die..." There was another pause as she found herself imagining it, unable to stop herself from picturing that graceful rabbit-girl ripped to shreds by some nightmarish enemy. She shivered at it, forcing herself to put the image out of mind. Doctor Lloyd had said he went through with the process because people were dying, and that there was no other way, but even so did that justify all of this? And just what would the military do if all this project ended in was their prized test subjects dying in their first battle?

    At the front of the group, Alexander walked alone, isolated from the others by his uniform and status. As he walked, his Digivice beeped, and he snatched it up, bringing it to his ear. "Yes?"

    "We have Bio-Emergence, Alexander!" Lloyd declared. "We're reading about thirty signals emerging in the city centre, most relatively minor, but we're reading five of at least Champion strength. What do you want done?"

    "Evacuate the area, and have a mile radius perimeter set up," Alexander responded. "I'll get the Hybrids there ASAP. Until then, do all that you can to keep those Digimon contained."

    "Right, Alexander."

    He whirled on the spot. "Change of plans. We're reading about thirty Digimon in the city centre, of varying strengths. Most appear to be fairly weak, but left unchecked they could cause serious damage. Troops are going to set up a perimeter to contain them while we engage the enemy and neutralize them. With me, quickly!" He moved into a faster jog, trying to allow the civilians to keep pace. He wanted to sprint, but he couldn't just leave them behind, and deep down he found himself wishing for soldiers. He shared Colonel Grant's sentiments, albeit without the venomous delivery. These people shouldn't be here. Not civilians. He needed soldiers. Not people snatched with deceit and deception, honest men and women who snatched this hell wholeheartedly and plunged into it with all their courage. He didn't want to subject these people to this. They didn't deserve to suffer the brutality of this war, not when they had been forced to become part of it. And yet he had to because Lloyd was right. There was no other way, and too many people had died and were dying to allow this to carry on. He remembered seeing whole streets covered in black body bags, grieving relatives falling to their knees as they found their loved ones. He remembered soldiers trying desperately to fight back with rifles, machine guns, rocket launchers, artillery, everything, only to have it often fail. He had found himself in that situation often, trying to fight off a Digimon only to have his every weapon fail. It was only once he had become a Bio-Hybrid that he had overcome that, and been truly able to fight. The helplessness was still there though, still burned into him by the memory of the comrades he had watched die as he tried desperately to save them to no avail.

    They emerged into a courtyard with a sleek black APC at its centre, a soldier with a rifle holding its door open. "Sergeant Miles, sir," he nodded. Alexander nodded to him in turn, stopping.

    "Everyone, get in, please," he said.

    Charlene looked around, noting how the soldiers had taken up prime positions all around, ready to gun down anyone who moved against them. She looked at Nicholas again, and then to the others, noting some already moving forwards. Reluctantly she obeyed, entering the interior of the APC and taking a seat. She briefly wondered about the wheelchair-bound girl she had seen, before realizing that the soldier at the door was ready to deploy a ramp, presumably for her. She took out her Digivice, holding it in her lap and staring down at it once again. She didn't feel ready for this at all, and she closed her eyes, seeing them all in her mind's eye. Her parents, her friends, Leon... all of them. "All of you... if I die here, just know... I love you..."

    Once everyone was in the APC, including Liz, Alexander himself entered, taking the last seat and nodding to the soldier outside, who shut the door. Alexander then bolted it closed, leaning back in his seat and buckling his safety belts. He stared around the interior, which was cast in red light as the APC set off. There were varying expressions on the others' faces, anger, sadness, fear. He couldn't read Charlene's face as she stared at the Digivice. Feeling guilt stabbing at him, he turned his gaze to the dark steel of the APC interior. The Digivice beeped in his hand and he answered it. "Yes?"

    "I've identified the Digimon for you," Lloyd chirped in answer. "We read a swarm of Keramon and Chrysalimon." Alexander nodded. Keramon and Chrysalimon tended to appear in swarms like this, he had suspected those Digimon from the moment he had heard the size of the Bio-Emergence.

    "Thank you, Lloyd," he responded. He let the Digivice fall to his lap in his hand, still staring at the black steel of the APC wall. This still felt wrong, dragging these people onto a battlefield.

    D:BC

    The APC finally screeched to a halt ten minutes later, the door being thrown open by Alexander, who was out in but a second. He took in the scene, the military cordon just behind them. The place was eerily emepty, dust tossed in the wind and buildings seemingly unoccupied. But he could hear explosions and insane cackling nearby. The Digimon were close. He remembered that cackling, it haunted his nightmares from the first time he had fought Keramon. He quickly deployed the APC's ramp for Liz, still wary as he gripped his Digivice.

    Once everyone was unloaded, he took them in. "We're fighting Keramon and Chrysalimon, about twenty-five of the former and five of the latter from what I'm told," he said. "Both have ranged attacks which are relatively short-ranged, and while Chrysalimon has some nasty tentacles, they shouldn't be too much trouble in close combat." He considered for a moment. "Here's our plan of attack. Nicholas, Oleander, Elijah, Veronica, you take the skies. Scout out the enemy and use your attacks to herd them this way. Try dive-bombing them down the streets if you can. Once they're in range of us, just do what you can to help. Ken, Alex, you're with me as the big guns. Our forms are the largest and strongest, so to avoid too much collateral damage, we'll stick to the major roads. Charlene, Violet, you two have the most manuverable and agile ground-based forms, so work with the fliers as best you can to harass the enemy. Everyone else, stick by Ken, Alex and I and do your best to stop the Keramon just rushing us and bringing us down that way. We'll do what we can to help, but our three Digimon forms aren't ideal for fighting such relatively small targets." He paused briefly. The demonic cackling sounded in the wind, and he noticed several of the group shivering. "So long as we stick to the plan, we'll be fine. I know you don't feel ready, but I promise you, no one ever does on their first mission. I certainly didn't. Trust each other if not me. Work as a team, and we can win this." He stepped away from them, acutely aware of his Digimon form's size. "Now, let's do this!" Once he felt he was clear enough from the APC, the others and the buildings, he raised his Digivice. "Bio-Hybrid Digivolution, activate!"

    Crimson light engulfed him, stripping his DNA apart and reforging it with the data in dominance. His towering Growlmon form arose with a roar, burning crimson red as it towered to its full height.

    Back in the group, Charlene stared up at him, awestruck. "Is that... what he is?" she whispered. "He's so powerful... so strong..." Her gaze fell to her Digivice. "Not like me," she added under her breath. She turned to Nicholas, giving him a weak little smile. "Good luck," she murmured to him. "And... come back at the end of this, okay?" She lingered there for a moment, trying to stave off the fear which had always been there and which the devilish cackles only intensified. Then she took a step, gripping her Digivice as she tapped the control. "Bio-Hybrid Digivolution... activate."

    Her every nerve felt as thought it was set ablaze, her skin ripping apart and knitting anew with white and purple fur. She couldn't scream even though cold fire seemed to seethe through her veins and flesh, changing her form entirely. When it ended, she was gasping for breath, staring at her transformed hands. The paws were there, ending in those pudgy fingers, her feet tipped by claws. She looked back briefly, seeing the others beginning to take their own Digimon forms, and giving them a slight nod of assurance. Then she turned back, looking up as Alexander glanced down to the group.

    "Trust me," he said, his voice now rumbling and shaking the group as he stomped down the street, eyes now glancing in search of the enemy. Recalling her instructions, Charlene moved. Already she saw why he had judged her one of the more agile. She was moving faster on foot than she ever had, almost seeming to glide over the tarmac. Despite the claws, her feet didn't make a sound on the hard black surface, and she could feel the breeze playing in her fur as she moved. The Lekismon jumped and found herself bounding over a storey compared to the building next to her. She landed in a nimble crouch, feeling more certain. At least she could run away faster than anything ground-based, she felt. She turned into an alleyway, hearing the cackling more acutely. She stopped to glance into a window, seeing her Digimon form again and taking in her long rabbit ears, and the tails of the scarf whipping behind her. For a moment she couldn't believe it. In the lab it had seemed more natural, and she could have passed it off as a dream more easily. But this was the real world, a bleak, grey city, and here this rabbit girl body she had taken seemed more natural. Noting that she was distracting herself when she had a part to play, she raced down the alleyway, stopping at the other end.

    As she glanced around the corner, she saw them, a small cluster of ugly grey things with great big heads, tentacles below their necks and long stringy arms, an orange jester-like collar forming the necks on all of them. She counted five in all, and instinctively she knew them to be the Keramon. They didn't seem to emanate much threat beyond the eerie cackling, which clearly came from their mouths. Reassured by this feeling, she leapt from cover, instinctively finding a gleaming icy arrow from one of the blue spines which ringed her body and launching it at a Keramon with a cry of "Tear Arrow!" The arrow streaked through the air and the Keramon was struck, wailing as it was struck through.

    Charlene stopped, hit hard by its wail of pain. "I... I'm sorry..." she murmured. Her apology was met with cries from the cluster of demonic things.

    "Bug Blaster!" Their insane cackles sounded out louder as bullets of shadow roared from their mouths, the Lekismon leaping away on instinct. One still caught her leg and exploded, sending her tumbling to the ground with a wail of pain. As she crashed down, she heard them call out again. "Bug Blaster!" She rolled backwards and just narrowly avoided another wave of black bullets as she leapt to her feet. Landing gracefully, she noted tthe black singed fur on her thigh, staring at the cackling five with worry. These things didn't seem threatening, but clearly that was no reason to not take them seriously.

    "Bug Blaster!"
    [CENTER]

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  18. #18
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    Alex gulped. He wasn't sweating, but when he gets nervous, he tends to heat up. Alexander gave them all a quick briefing on what to do once we got in the war zone. Alex could feel tension rising, and it seemed like something out of a movie. He felt slightly dizzy, and was honestly not ready for all of this to happen. What if he died? There was no way he was ready to depart from this world. "Here's our plan of attack. Nicholas, Oleander, Elijah, Veronica, you take the skies. Scout out the enemy and use your attacks to herd them this way. Try dive-bombing them down the streets if you can. Once they're in range of us, just do what you can to help. Ken, Alex, you're with me as the big guns. Our forms are the largest and strongest, so to avoid too much collateral damage, we'll stick to the major roads. Charlene, Violet, you two have the most manuverable and agile ground-based forms, so work with the fliers as best you can to harass the enemy. Everyone else, stick by Ken, Alex and I and do your best to stop the Keramon just rushing us and bringing us down that way. We'll do what we can to help, but our three Digimon forms aren't ideal for fighting such relatively small targets." Alex eased up a bit through the plan of attack. At least he knew he was one of the heavy-hitters.

    Once they were outside, Alexander had transformed in a large-reptilian Digimon. Alex looked at his Digivice hesitantly. He looked around and saw a swarm of the Keramon coming at them. "Alright..." He raised his Digivice. "Bio-Hybrid Digivolution, Activate!" Data surrounded Alex, and engulfed him in a barrier of light, and turned into the form of Tyrannomon. His Hybrid was massive in size, even bigger than Growlmon, Alexander's form. Alex could feel the strength of this form.

    "Bug Blaster!" A couple of Keramon shot a blast of energy at Tyrannomon. BOOM! A loud explosion was heard as multiple shots exploded upon impact against him. Tyrannomon stumbled and kneeled. Even though he was big, the impact of the blasts still hurt. Tyrannomon regained his ground, and started to let out steam from its mouth. "Blaze Blast!" He let loose a Flaming, red fireball at a swarm of Keramon. the blast incinerated a couple of Keramon, but also damaged part of a building.

    "Damn it..." Tyrannomon growled. "This is going to be harder than I thought..."

  19. #19
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    @TheGreaterLucario: Let's try to post with correct formmating and grammar, shall we?

    "You can call yourself whatever you want.
    Soldier. Leader. Patriot. Revolutionary. It doesn't matter.
    At our core we're all the same thing.
    Monsters."

  20. #20
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    (OOC: He also didn't sign up for the RP, and his post makes no sense in context with the story...

    Also, had to wrap this post up early. I'll post the action bits in a separate post when I can.)

    "Nah, when we get there, I'll get my legs and be fighting the same as you," Liz assured her. "Which will be interesting, given that this is our first time out of the compound. Not dangerous, mind, just interesting. No doubt the higher-ups will give us all sorts of backup. Won't let their trump card be taken out of the game so quickly. Dunno what the others are so terrified of." Liz shrugged.

    "Yeah, you've got a point there," Violet replied. She had to wonder how Liz could regain the use of her legs as a digimon. Maybe it was because digimon weren't affected by whatever condition she had or maybe Doctor Lloyd worked his mad scientist magic on her to make her able to walk when becoming a digimon. Violet could only guess. It didn't make much of a difference to her though; just as long as she could fight.

    "Well, I guess I can kind of understand why they're scared," she said as she looked around at the group. "Most of them have probably never been in a real fight before. That includes me."

    Violet folded her arms and smiled. "That said, fear will only get in the way. We all just need to go for it and give it our all. That's what I learned on my swim team. That's probably what Sargey was trained to do too," she explained, glancing over at Alexander.

    She wondered how he would act once they got into action. She knew that, as a Sergeant, he was likely competent in leading a team of their size. Hopefully that would be enough to balance out their inexperience.

    -

    "I don't know if we even can escape," Charlene murmured to him. "I'd like to, but... even if we get these things out of our arms, they'll hunt us, won't they? Because of what they put into us. We'd just be running for the rest of our lives even if we did get away... assuming we don't die in what's about to happen." She looked at him now, staring into his eyes and betraying the fear in her own. "I'm scared, Nicho- Nick. Sorry..." She only just remembered his words. "I just... can we fight Digimon? Even with these," she briefly held up the Digivice, "and even with that guy leading us, I'm scared that we're all just going to die..."

    Nick observed Charlene with a mixture of pity and empathy. She didn't look like she could hurt a fly, let alone a digimon. She didn't seem suited for this. She seemed more suited for whatever life she had before she was dragged into this. He grimaced, sickened that a sweet girl like this was torn away from her loved ones and her old life. He had been torn away from his life too...

    "I'm scared too," he admitted. "But I'm going to do my best to make sure that you and everybody else here survives. I'll try to fight, but not for the United States. I'm only fighting for my own survival. Just until I can figure a way for us to get out of this situation." He looked at her with passion hiding behind his grey eyes.

    "I'm not about to die on some government hawk's say-so."

    Suddenly, Alexander, who was at the head of the group, spun around and looked at them. Initially, Nick was worried that Alexander might have overheard him or something.

    "Change of plans. We're reading about thirty Digimon in the city centre, of varying strengths. Most appear to be fairly weak, but left unchecked they could cause serious damage. Troops are going to set up a perimeter to contain them while we engage the enemy and neutralize them. With me, quickly!"

    Those words made Nick's nervousness intensify. This was even worse than he was expecting in his mind. "Thirty digimon?!" he protested. "'Weak' compared to what, exactly?!"

    He swore under his breath and started running after Sergeant Miles towards a courtyard. Upon seeing the armoured personnel carrier, he hoped that it was durable. He didn't care if it moved like a tortoise if it meant that it was packed with diameters of metal.

    It was then that his fear began to bubble up. He started thinking about his digimon form. Aquilamon. He was big and awkward. Even though instincts played a part, there was still a huge learning curve to flight, especially for one who was used to using his upper limbs for grabbing things, not flying. Nick really hoped that his cardio was much better as an Aquilamon than it was as a human because he felt like there would be a lot of frantic, mindless flapping in his future.

    -

    Nick stepped out of the APC, gripping his red and blue digivice tightly in his hand. He stuffed his hands in his shorts pockets to hide the fact that they were trembling. The ominous cackles of the digimon they were made to face definitely didn't do any wonders in helping his nerves.

    He took a deep breath and surveyed the area. Deserted streets, manic laughter in the distance... Nick thought he had a nightmare like this once. It didn't end well.

    Alexander then turned to the group and started to relay the plan. "Here's our plan of attack. Nicholas, Oleander, Elijah, Veronica, you take the skies. Scout out the enemy and use your attacks to herd them this way. Try dive-bombing them down the streets if you can. Once they're in range of us, just do what you can to help."

    "So basically you want us to drop and slam our bodies into the ground?" Nick asked facetiously. "Simple enough. I've gotten enough practice there."

    "Ken, Alex, you're with me as the big guns. Our forms are the largest and strongest, so to avoid too much collateral damage, we'll stick to the major roads. Charlene, Violet, you two have the most manuverable and agile ground-based forms, so work with the fliers as best you can to harass the enemy. Everyone else, stick by Ken, Alex and I and do your best to stop the Keramon just rushing us and bringing us down that way. We'll do what we can to help, but our three Digimon forms aren't ideal for fighting such relatively small targets," Alexander explained.

    "Can do!" Violet chirped, taking her digivice out and readying it for action.

    "So long as we stick to the plan, we'll be fine. I know you don't feel ready, but I promise you, no one ever does on their first mission. I certainly didn't. Trust each other if not me. Work as a team, and we can win this." Alexander stepped away from them, acutely aware of his Digimon form's size. "Now, let's do this!" Once he felt he was clear enough from the APC, the others and the buildings, he raised his Digivice. "Bio-Hybrid Digivolution, activate!"

    Nick and Violet watched in surprise as Alexander turned into a giant, crimson dinosaur who towered over them. It comforted Nick knowing that they had that huge sauropod on their side. He looked like he could take on anything that was thrown at him. Unless, of course, their enemies would all be that size too. Nick began to worry again.

    Violet whistled with awe. "Well... the red Power Ranger always was the leader, wasn't he?"

    "What?" Nick asked, raising an eyebrow.

    "Forget it. Don't crash into anything, okay?" Violet joked, winking at him before holding her digivice up high. "Bio-Hybrid Digivolution, activate!"

    She let out a gasp as power surged through her body, her frame bursting apart and reforming into something new. Violet fell on all fours as she took on her new form. The first thing she saw were red, leather mitts on her front paws with three sharp claws extending out of them. It took a few seconds, but she quickly felt balanced.

    Violet felt the wind blow through the blue and white fur of her canine body. Her light blue mane rustled in the breeze, from which two, long, red sashes extended. The two sashes had claw-like features at the ends of them. She cricked her neck, stretched the sashes out and took off down the street with impressive speed and control.

    "Fast learner," Nick muttered. He removed his hands from his pockets and stared at his digivice, reluctant to go through with it. He looked over at Charlene beside him, whom he noticed out of the corner of his eye.

    Charlene turned to Nicholas, giving him a weak little smile. "Good luck," she murmured to him. "And... come back at the end of this, okay?"

    Nick smiled and nodded. "...You too," he replied.

    A few moments later, Charlene digivolved into what looked like some sort of rabbit digimon. It suited her, he thought.

    Nick then sighed and turned to his own digivice. It didn't look like he had a choice, even if the concept still made him uncomfortable. "Well... it's sink or swim," he muttered. "Bio-Hydrid Digivolution, activate..."

    Again, he felt the sickening, painful process of turning into a digimon. In a matter of seconds, he became the giant bird Aquilamon, now four or five times taller than the APC behind them.

    Nick grimaced, feeling wobbly on his clawed feet. "Bloody... hell..." he rumbled in a deep voice as he felt energy still rushing through him. He squinted his eyes, trying to get used to the change in vision and definition again. He didn't want to get a headache when his brain would be the only thing he'd have going for him in this fight.

    He took a deep breath and spread out his wings, bending his body forward to balance. "Easy... easy..." he told himself.

    Nick slowly flapped his broad wings, blasting air out from around himself. "Focus, Nick..." he muttered.

    He flapped his wings harder and a bit faster. He started to feel his claws lift off of the ground, although he wasn't really flying in any particular direction yet. He grinned a bit. "I'm doing it," he thought. "Now I just have to go forwards."

    He angled his wings slightly and tried to put pressure on different muscles in a way that he thought would make him fly forwards as well as up. He let out a loud cry as he suddenly careened to the left and slammed his side into the side of a building. He grimaced in mild pain. He cracked a few of the building's windows and caused the building to tremble, but he didn't do any structural damage fortunately.

    "Don't laugh," he growled in embarrassment, walking back towards the center of the street for a hopefully more successful attempt.

    The last thing he wanted was to be a sitting duck - or eagle - in his case, when he encountered that digimon swarm in a few minutes. He just hoped he'd get the hang of it before they found him.
    Claimed: Grovyle - November 10th, 2013
    Chapter 17 is up.

  21. #21
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    (OOC: Sorry, I'd completely forgotten about this. I'll try the best I can to tag along this first mission, and apologize in advance that my short post is short)

    The group of slightly confused people had gotten quite the speech from the military-guy, and Elijah felt really demotivated to do anything. His family.. The strict other guy, told them they could not see their family and friends ever again. in other words, now they really were trapped, as experimental super-soliders for the government, who had sunk so low to just kidnap ordinary citizens to do their dirty work. What did they tell their family? Did the 'virus' spread? had he forgotten his memories or something? or had they simply just told them he died of the illness, and that there was nothing he could do. imagining his mother recieving visitors clad in black, telling her that her only son had died of an unknown illness.. her reaction! He was practically a perfect young man with the whole world in front of him! Why did they have to steal him away from every possibility like this?

    Being angry won't solve anything, being grumpy and gloomy will only make matters worse. these are the words he had heard from his father, his father who'd raised such an obidient young man. but his father wasn't around anymore. No.. Elijah wasn't around anymore. he was a Bio-something! He didn't even care to listen anymore after they sp rudely said their families were out of his life forever.

    Then they got a call from some assistant somewhere about a Digimon-outbreak. Nothing huge, they said. It won't be that hard, they said. Elijah did not erally care anymore. He just wanted his normal life back. But that was impossible. His new life was the life of a weird mutant super-solider under captivity, so he simply just had to accept it. He sighed in anger, and listened.

    Later, after he had activated his Digivice, and taken the form of Angemon, he was assigned to the skies. Apparently, these Digimon were airborne, and his best chance was to either knock them to the ground, or wipe them out completely. He felt nothing. his old self apparently died, just like they told his parents, family and friends..

    Suddenly, a disgusting-looking little critter with tentackles flew towards him. Thanks to his six wings, Elijah was pretty flexible up there in the sky. He liked it there, everything was so calm, and he could hear the busy life of the normal people under him. He knew he could not just fly away, even though every fiber of him screamed at him to do so. Suddenly, he got angry. He located a few of the Keramon, and summoned his staff. "Angel rod" He shouted, not thinking about how silly he sounded, and smashed the little critter down below. It hit the ground, and it hit hard. That felt good.. like really good. like that cribbling feeling you get when you kiss an insainly hot guy for the first time, and it feels like your whole body is on adrenaline. "All right! I'm gonna enjoy this!"
    Last edited by Schade; 4th April 2013 at 4:52 PM.

  22. #22
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    ((OOC: What’s an “APC”? I’m quite sorry about the last few paragraphs; those were written when I was rather tired.))

    Oleander walked calmly, taking note of the actions of the surrounding people, and saw one staring at her Digivice. He had looked at it before, and then paid no more attention to it – it reminded him of being separated from his family, and he wished to not dwell upon that matter, for he was rather upset about it. He resumed observing the others and the aforementioned girl gently touching the scar on her arm. The implantation of the GPS tracking device was nothing that he was worried about for he had no intention of running away; the scar was merely a by-product of the military taking sensible precautions against deserters. After all, having a surgical, precise scar was preferable to having a messy, inexpert scar that was prone to infection.

    Alan’s serenity was not merely on the outside, but he felt a strange calm coming upon him, almost as if he commanded to feel such a thing. He would rely on the authorities to give him directions, for he the odd calm was not of surety, but of numbness. If they told what to do, he could drift along without thinking; that was more desirable than being incorrect; being incorrect was uncomfortable, and while battling, they would certainly be more than merely uncomfortable. He was not worried about what would become of him after the war, yet thoughts of the war being eternal created an uneasiness that stirred the comfortable state of obeying without considering the results. In the end, both of his prospects (unending war or without a place to return to after it ended) seemed bleak, so he concentrated his mind on what Alexander was hearing on his Digivice.

    Sergeant Mile’s distance made it difficult for Alan to hear what it was about. On the other hand, he could piece together what was meant from the soldier’s response. Oleander could glean that it was the emergence of Digimon from the “evacuate the area”, and that it was a large swarm from “a mile radius”. The next few lines from the soldier confirmed his guesses.

    Alan boarded the APC, being careful of the other passengers and took a seat. He stared outside during the whole of the ride. The ten minutes’ duration of the ride was both the slowest and quickest of his life. The scenery passed all too quickly as the APC neared its destination and Alan’s self-induced fog over his worries began to disperse; at the same time he wished that the APC would arrive at the emergence immediately, for he would have to opportunity to stop thinking of things unimportant to battle, or so he hoped.

    The sudden stop of the APC at the site only served to distract Alan from the crackling of…whatever it was. Getting out of the APC, he looked around, after removing himself from the middle of the gaggle to the fringes of it, and saw no people. The absence did not disturb him as evacuating the place could only make sense.

    Sergeant Miles started up, "We're fighting Keramon and Chrysalimon, about twenty-five of the former and five of the latter from what I'm told," he said. "Both have ranged attacks which are relatively short-ranged, and while Chrysalimon has some nasty tentacles, they shouldn't be too much trouble in close combat." The motor idled for a bi. "Here's our plan of attack. Nicholas, Oleander, Elijah, Veronica, you take the skies. Scout out the enemy and use your attacks to herd them this way. Try dive-bombing them down the streets if you can. Once they're in range of us, just do what you can to help. Ken, Alex, you're with me as the big guns. Our forms are the largest and strongest, so to avoid too much collateral damage, we'll stick to the major roads. Charlene, Violet, you two have the most maneuverable and agile ground-based forms, so work with the fliers as best you can to harass the enemy. Everyone else, stick by Ken, Alex and I and do your best to stop the Keramon just rushing us and bringing us down that way. We'll do what we can to help, but our three Digimon forms aren't ideal for fighting such relatively small targets." The Mr. Miles Motor-Mouth appeared to be in need of a kick to continue; the increase in volume of the cackling was just the ticket for that. "So long as we stick to the plan, we'll be fine. I know you don't feel ready, but I promise you, no one ever does on their first mission. I certainly didn't. Trust each other if not me. Work as a team, and we can win this." The sergeant removed himself from the crowd. "Now, let's do this!"

    ’Ah, a team? I am one of the flying shepherds and I need to be aware of “Chrysalimon” and its tentacles, so should I remain higher in the air, waiting to swoop upon stragglers to finish them off, or shall I crowd-control by hovering?’ Oleander considered his options; he had wished that Alexander had been clearer with his instructions, but “dive-bomb” and “herd” were the best that the 17-year-old was going to get in the way of clarification for the sergeant had transformed into a red, upright dragon-dinosaur. ’Why am I thinking of killing living beings? Although, if they have tentacles, then how human-like can they be? I am not going to compare them to human beings,’ Oleander thought to himself, refraining from considering the ethical complications of killing en masse of things that had been be demonstrated to be capable of speech and thought.

    Seeing four others transform into their Digimon forms, a blue rabbit-like humanoid; another red, bipedal, and dinosaur-esque dragon; a blue wolf with red “ribbons”; and an eagle that had some control issues, Alan pulled his Digivice out of his pocket, after backing a distance away from the group. Pressing the control for the activation of the change, Alan said the line that was going to be said many, many times in the future. “Bio-Hybrid Digievolution, activate.” It was said in a calm, controlled manner, without any of the wavering or enthusiasm of the others.

    A bizarre feeling overcame Oleander as his body began reformatting, his form enveloped in a light that seemed dull. It was a sensation that numbed and hurt; it was comparable to looking at people go at oneself with sharp, pointy things and being rather relaxed about the whole situation. The pain was an anesthetic to his worries – if he was in physical pain, then his mind could concentrate on that, but this pain was numbed and strangely comforting. His draconic form constructed itself quite quickly; his claws did not feel out-of-place now, and the eyesight that his four eyes provided him was not entirely alien.

    Alan took to the air, his powerful legs providing enough lift to do so. Flying high enough so that he could see much of the city clearly, he scanned the city for signs of Keramon – the cackling he could hear clearly, but he could only see swarms of purple-gray blobs. He swooped down for a closer look, while keeping an eye or two out for Chrysalimon, and sighted a few of the blobs detaching from the main swarm. His job was to herd them, so he headed off in their direction. His flight was not erratic as it had been before: the motions of flying felt instinctual and natural him, as if he had been born with those limbs. In the controlled situation of the lab, his limbs had felt heavy and obtrusive and his wings awkward, but outside, in a battle situation, those very appendages were easier to control properly. He was no longer flying like a drunk.

    The three errant Keramon did not expect Alan’s sudden swoop towards them. Out of instinct, the Darkdramon had stayed where the Keramon could not see his shadow. He unfurled the claw on the end of his to catch one of the Keramon under the head, and dragged it into its fellows. They ungracefully floated back, the caught one wailing its pain. Alan rose into the sky again, and started to hover once he could comfortably avoid the Keramons’ Bug Blasters, and tossed the hapless Keramon into the air, then swung one of his crimson claws through it. “Bloody Claw!” He yelled on instinct, surprised that it had felt natural to him to end a life. The dispersing data held no answer for him.

    Oleander dived down at the Keramon again, but they expected this attack and responded with shadowy bullets. One nicked him near the end of his wing, which caused a slight “blip” in his flight. He veered towards the side of the road, but soon recovered his balance. He attempted to continue on, but the Keramon were determined to hit him, so he pulled back up, into the sky.
    Quote Originally Posted by bobandbill
    Quote Originally Posted by zomegax7249
    So now it's not enough that we beat the NPCs, now we have to steal their clothes as well? Isn't this basically mugging them?
    Suddenly the aim of the Pokémon games is apparent. It isn't to catch them all, or to be the best trainer, or to learn about the values of friendship with strange monsters that can breathe fire and whatnot.

    It's to beat up other people for their hats and jackets.
    3DS FC: 0018-1095-7707
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  23. #23
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    Aug 2004
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    Liz Rosenthal
    Facility Halls


    Violet made an excellent point - "Well, I guess I can kind of understand why they're scared. Most of them have probably never been in a real fight before. That includes me." Liz gave a small roll of her head in agreement - honestly, the closest thing she had ever been in was a shouting match, even back home. Dull as dishwater, Montana was, for better and for worse.

    Of course, Violet was trying to spin it around, the smiley little thing. "That said, fear will only get in the way. We all just need to go for it and give it our all. That's what I learned on my swim team. That's probably what Sargey was trained to do too." Liz shook her head at the idea.

    "Simple to say. Harder to do. We'll see once we're in there," she noted. Not to be overly negative, but no amount of talking up would be able to totally avert panic in a real situation. A real panic would only be well-countered by the equally real rush they'd get from their transformation. Not the most reassuring way of looking at things, but if nothing else they weren't totally being thrown off the deep end. Relatively safe from dying and all that noise.

    Any response Violet might have had was cut off by Sarge Miles, commanding an update of the situation at the group. Thirty-ish Digimon, just dangerous enough to be a real collective threat. The military was already setting up an area to keep them contained and standing by. Judging by the choice of words, they'd be in an urban area of sorts. Objective would be for their current group to take them out as a small squad. Everything that Liz had anticipated. Everything moved to a faster pace, including some of the others' protests (pointless by now). Liz strained herself to keep up. A quick headcount of those in front of her gave an estimate that their entourage would be outnumbered about two-to-one. Fantastic.

    They were led out into a courtyard. The first real daylight that Liz had seen in days. Just as quickly, she was ushered up a ramp and into the back of some sort of military transport which she didn't remember the name of. Kinda like the overall story of this place: access to military gear that they didn't fully appreciate anyway, safe overall but only allowed to see the sun when it was convenient. Kind of a trade-off, really - freedom for valorous service or however you wanted to call it. Not even a switch that she would be totally opposed to if it was voluntary. Thing was, it wasn't, and it was pretty apparent from everyone else there with her. Sarge looked strained at the whole ordeal, a few like Violet were trying to talk over their nerves, and others just let the nerves take over and were biting their own lips. Another couple just sitting there, seething over their entire situation. Not like Liz was doing much better. Staring at her lap, rolling a lock of her blonde hair between her fingers. Thinking about other things. Trying to stay objective. No way that this could end in a total wreck, not with the setup they had.

    Probably.

    The worry-circle lasted a whole ten minutes while their transport bumped along to wherever they were going. No clue where - none of them ever really knew where they were since they'd been taken into military custody, she guessed. But ten minutes away from an outbreak? Seemed like an awfully small proximity to have a major base of operations. Maybe it was necessary. Not for her to judge. The group filed out into an

    Sarge was already on to other orders - spewing names that didn't matter at the moment followed by information that did. Two types of target, far more of the first than the second. Both had short-range distance attacks, the second had some sort of tentacles. (So much bizarre anatomy and they really couldn't even be given a proper image of a "Chrysalimon?") Rough split of the group into three. Everyone who could fly (not Liz) on scouting and driving the Digimon toward the heavy hitters. Violet and another on hit-and-run. She'd be with the largest group, Sarge's, mainly acting as ground support. After, a couple more of the kind of going-into-battle words of encouragement that Sarges always ended up giving rookies - the "you're stronger than you think" and "we'll win as a group" kinds. Yeah - want us to really be encouraged? Send us in with more than the three-minute rundown.

    At the signal to move out, he grasped and held up the device at his belt - a squarish thing about half the size of a cell phone. Liz slipped a sly grin and snatched her own from her belt. No need for a second cue to ditch her wheels. She pressed a button on the front, gave the voice command: "Bio-Hybrid Digivolution, activate."

    Liz's vision faded to white and she felt a cool sensation all over her skin. She pitched forward out of reflex, her insides turning over. Her entire body swelled up from the inside out. Her wheelchair wouldn't hold her. Liz pushed herself upright, took a slow step forward. Sluggish, with the gait of a ten-ton creature, but she was walking! She held an arm out to steady herself, standing up in full for the third time in both the last week and the last few years. The arm she was holding out was unrecognizable as human - rather, a light, grainy white, grown round like a giant stuffed animal with a frosted coat. Her entire body was the shape of a nine-foot teddy bear, masquerading with a snowman's exterior, coal-eyes and buttons and all.

    Liz looked to her left and right, now surrounded by all manner of monsters. Dinosaurs, hawks, rabbits, but all with some sort of feature like humanoid posture or curled horns which, aside their size, marked them as beyond natural. Even being one did not provide Liz with any insight as to what any of them were - the best description offered to her was "digital life form," and despite the nonsense that term brought she could not think of a better one. As this Frigimon she felt as though her body was one solid mass - no organs, a ghost sensation of muscle movement - a very precarious situation, yet one which provided a great loophole for her.

    No nervous system. No ALS.

    Slow as she was, Liz couldn't restrain herself from marching off immediately. Though almost impossible to tell apart who was whom in their current states, Sarge was easy to spot - the only one moving like he truly knew what he was doing. Theropod. Red with a white underbelly and black stripes. Long claws, two horns, grey mane about the base of the skull. Over twice her current height. As good a place as any to start, Liz fell in behind the Sarge and snapped her gaze about in a scan for anything that might qualify as a hostile Digimon.

    An upright-walking pink rabbit was the first to spot them, and the first to eat a hit. Liz heard rather than saw the contact, catching the aftermath as it toppled backwards with one unfamiliar Digimon going down near. Bluish, long tentacles and antennae despite being decidedly un-buglike, disproportionately large hands on two of its tentacles. Jagged orange mane, permanent innane smile on its bulbous "face". Oh, and there were about five clustered together. All of them shooting some soft black pellets at pink rabbit. Mid-range projectiles, they'd been said. So her options were hanging way back (ineffective as a great bear) of rushing them inside of their comfort zone. No points for guessing the right option.

    Their barrage centered on her teammate, Liz had ample time and space to get within fifteen feet before attention was on her. Plenty of leeway. The Frigimon reeled back one arm and threw it back forward as a fist, shining pale blue of its own accord.

    "Sub-zero Ice Punch!"

    Liz shouted the name impulsively, her fist knocking the nearest Keramon (likely their name, based on their numbers and the mission brief) flat into a wall and dropping to the ground. She flipped around, ready to catch the next one with a similar hit. Not enough - all eyes were on her. Short-minded little things. All focus on whatever caused the most recent offense. No teeth to clench, but she definitely would be. The Keramon opened their mouths on a wide hinge, ready to shoot again. Liz grabbed for the fallen one, looking to use it as a shield. Too slow - everything in this body was slow.

    Liz abandoned her reach, instead throwing her arms up to block the incoming volley of "Bug Blaster!" They left dark marks and a feeling like carpet-burn, but nothing she couldn't power through. She started again for the Keramon on the ground, this time grabbing it by its knobbly wrist and holding it between herself and the crowd. She charged the group, dragging her hostage along and slinging it as a whip into one of its comrades the instant she was near enough. It knocked one aside surely enough, but her swing followed around and Liz found that while she had it by the wrist, it had now grabbed her by the shoulder and was making an attack at her neck. Eyes wide, Liz did the first thing she could think of and dropped to the ground, trying to crush the thing underneath her own new-found weight.

    Of course, now she was wrestling on the ground, in the middle of a gang of strange things trying to shoot at her. Smart move, Liz. Se how that works out next time when there isn't a flippin' friendly T-Rex over your shoulder.

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