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The Angels of Sayang

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#1 deojusto


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Posted 23 June 2012 - 02:33 PM

Chapter One: Part 1/ The Reaver File

“Blondie, fly guy on your right.”

Jill swivels to fire in his direction, but ‘fly guy’ was actually a ‘flea’ guy. Jill’s rifle lets out bursts of rapid fire that only serve to tear into nearby trees as the Purple Flea springs spastically from one to another.

Jill, the Conspiracist, and Helenas dash through the forest that leads away from The Atlas Initiative’s rural compound. The mission was a success, up until they had been caught. The Flea continues springing from the tree branches just before automatic gunfire blows them apart. Jill’s mouth curls in anger.


Her rifle lets out rounds continuously, until it clicks.

“Shit; I’m out.”

Jill sprints to keep up with the others. The Purple Flea sees his chance; he crouches down to prepare to launch towards the now unarmed prey. A loud boom escapes from Helenas’s nearby rifle and a silver spike sails out towards him. The Flea leaps back, but the spike flips back to follow him. It targets him in midair and impales his left leg. The Purple Flea squeals in agony and falls to the forest floor with all the grace of a sack of garbage. Jill looks to her partner.

“Not bad.”

“Holy seeker rounds, powered by my faith, if you’d like I could talk to you about salvation, and then,”

Jill starts sprinting to catch up to The Conspiracist. She yells over her shoulder to Helenas.

“Now’s not the time to convert me Helen. You can save my soul when we aren’t about to die.”

Helenas strains to keep after Jill and the Conspiracist. The trio continue sprinting through the night with no guiding path but the glimmer of a harvest moon. The forest behind them carries the occasional rustle of more footsteps marching closer. Helenas begins to slow down, as Jill and the Conspiracist break ahead. Jill eventually turns back to see her friend far behind her.

“Helen, come on!”

“I can’t,”

Helen finally comes to a full stop. Jill runs back to her. With her help Helenas leans against a tree, begins hyperventilating and re-arms her rifle. With it in one hand, she unstraps the bandoleer belt of holy water bottles from her chest with the other and hands them to Jill.

“Take this.”

“What, why?”

“I can’t,” Helen says between breaths, “I can’t—I’ll just slow you down.”

“We can all get out of this. I’m not leaving another teammate behind.”

Helenas preps her rifle with another giant silver round.

“I don’t matter. It is a martyr’s duty to die so that others may live. I embrace my destiny, I’ll slow them down as much as I can.”

“Helen, they’re not going to kill you… They’ll do something worse.”

“I know. They won’t kill me, but you will. Promise me that you’ll do it.”

Jill doesn’t respond. The Conspiracist’s voice calls back from the dark woods ahead.

“Blondie, Red, come on!”

Jill slowly backs away from her friend. Helen points her rifle back into the heart of the forest behind them. A howl cuts through the night; the girls hear it, and its meaning is clear on their faces. Helenas slowly begins to stalk towards the noise.

“Jill, you have to go now…Jill!”

“I’ll do it,” Jill mutters, “But please don’t make me.”

Jill reluctantly turns and runs. Helenas listens to her footsteps till they fade into nothingness. But the forest is not quiet. The rustling of the trees in the wind combines with the padding of approaching paws. A low growl escapes from the bushes.

“Oh Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name…”

Helen scans the dark forest intently.

“Give me this day my daily bread, and forgive me my sins, as I forgive those who sin against me.”

A dark shape lumbers through the brush.

“And lead me not into temptation, but deliver me from evil, for thine is the kingdom and the power and the—”

It lunges. Helen turns to fire as the massive form pounces upon her. The shot goes off and hits the black beast in the shoulder as it crashes down onto her. The beast’s momentum sends her to the forest floor. The now wounded creature is clearer now, its fur dark grey like a wolf, its body massive and almost human. It begins thrashing and snapping at her; she pushes the length of the rifle against its throat to try and bar it off. Its claws pin her to the ground, its fangs bite into empty air only inches from her face. Helenas works her finger back around the trigger while using all her muscle to attempt to push the beast from her throat. Her finger finds a hold of the trigger and manages to squeeze.

A silver round explodes out of the rifle. It rockets up into the air, then curves mid-trajectory, looping back down towards the pair and speeds earthbound. The spike punctures the beast’s backside, it howls, its iron grip is loosened, and Helenas kicks back hard. The wolfman begins clawing at the spike now lodged in his back, but is unable to reach. Helenas lifts and re-arms the rifle.

“—And the unholy beasts of Hell shall be exterminated with prejudice; let no abominations remain among the living, in his glory, Am—”

Six revolver shots break the silence in a succession so rapid they harmonize into merely one quick blast. They end, and a man wielding dual pistols stands smirking over Helenas. She stumbles forwards, gradually tips forward, then collapses to the ground. The man approaches out of the trees, the rugged cut of his jaw becoming more visible in the slim moonlight. He is a man Helenas had seen many times before: John Reynolds.

He looks over Helenas. Her movements are slowing, but he could see she was still fighting it. Six paralyzer shots and she still had the will to crawl forward and slowly claw the rifle back to her. John steps down on the rifle, anchoring it to the forest floor. He casually points one of his revolvers towards the back of her head and squeezes the trigger. A final paralyzer round breaks against her skull, cutting the skin, but still remaining non-lethal. Helenas’s movements slow to nothing.

The wolfman grunts. John turns to see that he now holds the two bloody rifle spikes between his claws. He begins to lurch towards Helenas; John holds out his hand against him.


“She wounded me,” The beast growls, “Fair is fair.”

“She’s down Rob,” John says, “ and we need her alive.”

“I can leave her alive.”

“And in one piece?”

Drool drips from the creature’s maw, his eyes narrow, but he declines to answer the question. John nods.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

The werewolf mutters something beneath his heaving breath. An interruption from the walkie-talkie on John’s belt stops the conversation from going on any further.

“Reynolds this is Tony. Wasn’t able to get anything on my end, she’s still as slippery a dame as ever. How’s your progress?”

John puts the walkie talkie to his mouth.

“What’s wrong De Luca, Merci lose interest in you already?”

“Not in the mood jabroni. So unless you’ve done better, you better hope you can come up with a good reason for me not to rip your lungs out.”

“Well as a matter of fact I do,” John replies, “While you were busy trying to bring down your unarmed ex, we managed to hunt and capture the holy exorcist herself, our Sister Helenas. Took seven of Jackson’s paralyzer rounds to bring her down. She also managed to cripple Flea and muss up Remington’s fur. He says he wants to eat her; don’t suppose I could feed him flea instead?”

“No. What about the others?”

“Still ahead, but I’d rather not face Jill and the masked freak with two wounded amateurs and a tranq gun.”

“Is Remington still able to run?”

John looks over the beast who growls in response.


“Have him tail them. No engagement, I just want an eye on them. They’ll meet up with Merci at some point. For now we wait until further notice, no captures, no kills till I give out the call. Hail Sayang.”

John’s eyes roll.

“Yeah, Hail whatshername.” He tosses the walkie-talkie in the air and Remington snatches it quickly.

“You heard your team leader,” John says, “Track and observe.”

“Observe!” His fangs are inches from John’s face as he roars. “ I will not observe; I will hunt, I will stalk, I will kill.”

Spit from the beast’s jaws lands on John’s cheek. He wipes it away and lights a cigarette.

“You can hunt later. You can stalk later. And from what I can tell of what’s strewn around your pen these days, you’ve been killing plenty. Officially your orders for now are to observe. Unofficially if you put so much as a scratch on my little Jillian, I will wound you in ways that will make you useless to any bitch, whether she be human, wolf, or anywhere in between.”

“Fair enough,” Remington says, “But of the other two?”

John smirks with the cigarette tipping upwards between his lips.

“Well, I’m pretty sure Tony would be rather displeased if you ripped any pieces off of Merci he might miss. As for Conspiracist, well officially you are still ordered to just observe him, but unofficially, well, accidents happen.”

Remington lets out a husky laugh and begins to lumber off towards the scent trail Jill and the Conspiracist left behind them. John reaches down and heaves Helenas over his shoulders.

“Oh, Rob, one more thing,” he says, “If you do encounter such an accident, bring me back the head. Always wanted to see what that ugly f*cker’s face looks like.”

Remington blows air from his snout.

“He’d be lucky if he still has a face left after I’m done.


The Conspiracist and Jill tumble over the rail separating the one lane road from the forest it cuts through. It is little more then empty dirt hemmed between two lines of steel. Jill looks up the road, then down the other way. There is only black forest in either direction.

“Shit. Where is she?”

The Conspiracist unholsters his gun and scans the forest they just came from. The mask obscuring his whole face leaves no expressive clues to explain his thoughts. He shakes his head and sighs.

“Never lend a woman your car. ”

“Don’t be a sexist,” Jill responds, “speaking of; Jack, hey Jack, come online. What’s going on? Why did you go silent on me back there? Is something wrong? Do you have any info on Merci?”


“Jack? Come on buddy. Jack answer me… A.I. 101, File name Jack, respond”

: Error. Error. Malicious software programs detected/ Error/ Sorry babe can’t talk right now… BRB… A.I. 101-Jack disabling user interface……………………..

“Damn. That doesn’t sound good.”

The Conspiracist turns his head.


“I’m not sure. Normally I only want him to shut up, but he’s never actually done it before. It almost sounds like he’s doing a reboot or something.”

As she speaks a pair of headlights zoom up on the two. The Conspiracist’s Mustang convertible appears in the distance and speeds towards them; it has seen better days. The vehicle stops suddenly and the woman behind the wheel kicks the passenger door open.

“Get in.”

Jill jumps into the back while the man in the mask slips into the passenger seat. The car is off again; air rushes through the open crack until he slams the door shut. Merci speaks but never takes her eyes off the serpentine road.

“Sorry, I was afraid I was going to miss you… Where’s the other one?”

“She, she, didn’t make it,” Jill says.

Merci nods silently, not attempting to console or apologize.

“Tony couldn’t be saved,” she says, “ I thought that maybe if he saw me, if he saw my face, showed him how much I loved him, I could get him to overcome that thing controlling him.”

The Conspiracist lets out a condescending scoff.

“This isn’t a movie. The power of love isn’t saving anyone. I’m not even sure we can trust each other. Now that I think of it, Jill, hand me a holy water bottle.”

Jill hands the man a bottle off of Helen’s belt. He unscrews the cap and shoves it into Merci’s face.


“I’m fine, Tony didn’t hit me or nuthin’… Well, he didn’t hit me too hard. Besides I can heal myself.”

“That’s not why I want you to drink.”

Merci feels Jill’s eyes peering into her from the back seat. She’s sure the Conspiracist’s are pointed at her as well behind that mask. She grabs the bottle with one hand and chugs while trying to still drive straight. With half the bottle down she passes it back to Conspiracist.

“There, I ain’t tainted. You happy?”

“Happy enough,” he replies.

“There’s no winning with you is there?”

“Not really. Our enemies have us outnumbered, they know our playbook, and I have a feeling that if we don’t find out what the Reaver Project is soon, that many many people will die.”

He pulls a small flashdrive out of his pocket and examines it.

“This may have cost Helenas her life. I hope it was worth it.”

Jill leans between the two front seats.

“Well then, if you’re done pontificating on the epic f*cked-uppedness that is our situation, I would really like to hear some suggestions on what to do now. We need a plan.”

:Jack A.I. user interface now on-line… Whoa, that was not fun. I really don’t want to do that ever again.

“Jack?! You’re back! What happened?”

:The computer you wanted me to hack into had some vicious security software. I could bypass it, but the millisecond I did it sent an alert to all terminals. That’s when the real shit happened. Somebody tried to hack me. Not a firewall program, an actual person, and they were damn good.

“Were you able to decrypt the Reaver file?”

:I was, but then I forgot it. I had to purge all foreign and downloaded software to make sure there weren’t any Trojans imbedded. Sucks too, because I had downloaded a lot of… “Special Software” on some of your empty grey space.

“That is absolutely vile and if anything I’m just glad its gone.”

Merci leans towards Conspiracist.

“Should we ask what they’re talking about?”

“I find it its usually better to let them finish, then have her censor and translate whatever that thing is saying.”

Jill leans through the partition between the seats once more.

“Jack says to give me the flashdrive.”

“Why,” Conspiracist asks.

“Because, apparently I have a USB port.”

The Conspiracist hands over the drive over to Jill. She unbuckles her chest plate and slowly removes the heavy armor. Beneath the cerulean plating is a stained white tank top. Jill moves her hand over her back and begins poking her skin with the flashdrive.

“Okay where is it?”

:Hooked into your spinal chord. Right along the spine, between the sixth and seventh vertebrae. Wait, no too far, a little higher. There.

Jill pushes the flashdrive into the hidden USB near her neck and on top of her spine. Her spinal cord acts as an extension cord to her brain where Jack begins to download the file.

“This is so cool,” she says, “How come I never knew about this?”

:Never needed it, I could always access computers remotely. The port was only intended to be used to give me software updates. As if I could be improved. Still, those Wetworks guys put this in your spine during the physical you got just after I was installed, remember?


:Oh right… you weren’t really all there when they did that. You were still coming off of that anesthetic they gave you. Turns out you get really talkative when you’re high.

Jill ignores this last comment.

“This is so awesome. Could I download kung fu or something?”

:You’re not freaking Neo, babe. I’m the one downloading, you’re just the hardware. At that point only I would know kung fu, and since I can’t control your body, it would be pretty friggin useless. Besides what the hell do you need Kung Fu for, you’ve got an assault rifle.

The curving forest road merges onto a freeway; the Mustang swings onto it swiftly. As the file downloads, Merci drives into the city and the three descend into Lowtown. She parks the car in an empty lot and shuts the engine off. She looks to the backseat.

“Please tell me your friend knows what we’re up against.”

:I do. But she isn’t going to like it. We’re FUBAR’d waaaaay beyond what I thought.

“It may be slightly worse than we thought” Jill says.

:I’ve looked over their whole plan. The Angels are just the start into this whole interconnected web of terrorism and havoc. We’re gonna need to get everyone purged of those little parasite bastards, break back into that heavily fortified base we just escaped from, and we’re gonna need a military grade interference generator. Statistically speaking, with a three man team, it’s impossible.

“We’ve done the impossible before Jack.”

: Not like this. Big difference. No tactical scenario I can run is showing anything higher than 3.1% percent chance of success with a three man team, let alone a one man, two woman team.

“Don’t need the sexism Jack. Just give me something. You have to have some kind of option, something creative, something wild, something stupid.”

:Oh, I do. I always do. My scenarios only accounted for a three ‘person’ team. We’re going to need to pull in some allies. And I’ve already checked, the Sentinels are still a no go, but I do have another even dumber option.


:Lets just say the broad driving the car isn’t going to like it. I’m gonna make a few calls. We need to get the lesser evil in on this.

#2 deojusto


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Posted 23 June 2012 - 02:45 PM

So let me know what you think. If I pm'd you awhile back about using your character, this is the fic I was talking about. Not every character appears in 1-1, but if not then they're coming in 1-2. If you catch any typos or censored vulgarities let me know. There aren't a ton of swears, but every now and again they pop up. Yeah, so the rest is either written or being written; I'm up to like 3-1. Enjoy.

#3 KevinDWolf93


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Posted 23 June 2012 - 03:44 PM

Heh, this is what you had in mind Deo. Very good, hell of a start to something that will likely be awesome! Was well paced and actiony, i didnt spot any grammar issues and I cant wait to see who the cavalry is if your not dipping into SLJ. Characterization for the guys evilified was fun too, what better antagonists Posted Image.

On that note I gotta say if/when Rob gets cleansed of whatevers got the other guys crazy in the head, he is NOT gonna be a happy camper in the slightest when he realizes the shit he was forced to do(read; being a ruthless monster of a killer) :/. You know him, big softie with the whole killing innocents thing. Of course if/when he comes into contact with whoever made him into that he's gonna be pissed. By pissed I mean PPPPPPIIIIIIISSSSSSSEEEEEDDDDDDDDDDD, like jump rope with his spine and entrails before making sure he dies in the most painful way possible PPPPPPIIIIIIISSSSSSSEEEEEDDDDDDDDDDD. Should be fun overall: D!

#4 Darkender


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Posted 23 June 2012 - 06:26 PM

Nice intro. It looks like The Conspiracist is going to get some good screen time. I can't wait to see who else you pull into this.

#5 treacherous


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Posted 23 June 2012 - 09:34 PM

Personally I don't care about the grammar. At a certain point, certain people get a pass. I like to see some underdogs get some highlights on some of these fics. On another note, my guess is the Bottom Girls for the helpomg hand. Only people I can think of that Merci would not want to deal with. WOULD NOT! It'd be so bad.

#6 Pseudonym



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Posted 24 June 2012 - 07:59 PM

mmm, yes, good.

#7 deojusto


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Posted 28 June 2012 - 09:18 PM

Chapter 1, part 2

Keijo leans back in her chair and stretches her legs under the boardroom table. She places her head against her arms. Her smirk is wide as she looks to her assistant who does not seem to feel the same sense of glee.

“Something wrong Detective Harper?”

“It’s nothing Keijo.”

Keijo returns to a more formal sitting position.

“Jesse, I assure you, your sister is in no real danger. Jill has nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and I believe Mr. Reynolds has quite a keen will on taking her alive.”

“I wish that was the only thing of his that was keen for her.”

“Well,” Keijo sighs, “I’m going to pretend I don’t know what that means. Now if you would kindly, the monitors.”

Jesse nods. She produces a small remote control device and presses down on a small central button. A projector pointed at the far wall blinks on, and hazy images begin to emerge. Three figures become visible in segmented sections of the projection. On the table sits a camera pointed at Keijo to project her upon on the walls of other Sayang leaders.

The men in the projection become clearer, at least most of them do. The man on the left has grime stained chestnut hair, and wears sunglasses that absorb most of his face. The walls behind him are lined with contamination proof plastic. Despite that, he wears no type of protection for himself; the plastic is only to keep a low profile whilst testing new pathogens, a lesson Sayang had learned during the Horseman of May.

The man on the right is little more than a silhouette, and Keijo knows she is lucky to see that much of him. However the man in the center has no such illusions of secrecy. His powerful frame overflows beyond the center allotment of the projection, and his eyes glow cobalt blue. When you stare into those eyes of madness, the man was clear: Marshell Percy, the self-described master Psychic Psycho. Keijo looks over her colleagues and smiles.

“Gentlemen. I’m glad to see you’re all doing well.”

“As our we, you,” Percy replies. Every word carries emphasis, always theatrical to a point, “I hope you bare good news.”

“I do,” Keijo replies, “ As of late I have added the vigilantes Thomas Jackson, Sylvia Walker, Robert Remington, and “The Purple Flea”, to our ranks. However the latter remains wounded after our last encounter with the remnants of The Angels of Mercy cells in Khazan. His injuries, while not fatal, made him useless to us. We’ve since found ‘other’ uses for him…. However the others have all become valued employees for Ouroboros, as will those remaining on my list.”

The shadowy figure in the right most projection makes a gesture that is hard to observe from his shadows, then speaks.

“I have concerns regarding the Angels of Mercy that acted against our interests last year. I am not sure this side project is the best use of our time if it involves co-opting them; I would hate to think we could come so far, only to have a repeat of the half-victory of the Horsemen of May.”

Keijo’s loses some of the confidence in her glance, yet her countenance remains as rigid and formal as ever, and the change is easy to miss.

“Of all the individuals who opposed us last year, only five have not been taken into the fold, Jill Harper, Jasmine Smith, Jason Redfield, a Sister Helenas, and ‘The Conspiracist’. Of those five, Ms. Smith and Mr. Redfield have disappeared. We can only hope its for good.”

“And yet that still leaves three,” the silhouette replies, “and among them is the woman who has the ability to purge the parasites out of your newly gained soldiers,”

“Not to mention the ‘Conspiracist’,” Percy adds, “He has been a persistent… ‘annoyance’ for the Guild as of late. He holds knowledge which could prove problematic to our efforts… Considering your role in leading the rest of Ouroboros, you may be attempting to do too much by also leading this side project. Perhaps it would be better if Koji was put in charge of this particular endeavor, in order to share the burden, as it were.”

Keijo leans forward in her chair.

“Percy, Dr. Voodoo, I assure you both, Koji has decided to follow Ouroboros’s lead, and his support is full hearted, as yours should be as well. We have already captured three of the Angels members from the Horsemen of May, plus three other assorted vigilantes. I trust detective Harper in her entirety; the remaining members will become valuable servants to Sayang, or they will be otherwise terminated in a matter of days. We will complete our end if you can yours. Scourge?”

The man in the in the aviator glasses turns his camera towards the plastic walls behind him. He pushes in closer till a putrefying corpse on a table can be seen through the opaque layers. The eyes have boiled out of their pits and the skin is flaking off in grey shavings while the innards slowly settle outwards from gaps in the torso.

“This is the updated pathogen I’ve been working on,” he says, “a little flesh-eater hybrid. Never seen before, so there’s no way to create a vaccine. At least no way for anyone but us.”

“What’s the time lapse?” Keijo asks.

“Twelve hours, so it’s a little too aggressive for our needs. I still have some kinks to work out.”

“Fine enough,” Percy says, “It seems you have some time to work with Ms. Namura. I suggest you use it….wisely.”

As he stretches the final syllable the screens blink out into darkness. Jesse and Keijo stand in silence for some time. Jesse smiles uncomfortably.

“So is he always that menacing, or is it just me?”

“Percy’s time is ending,” Keijo replies, “he just doesn’t know it yet. However, if you want to see menacing, then fail to collect on my missing Angels. I guarantee I will impress you, Detective Harper.”

Jesse doesn’t have time to reply before her phone buzzes. She pulls it out and looks at the glowing screen. Her smirk grows wider.

“Perhaps you’ll have to show it to me on another occasion then. That was Reynolds, our team just got a little bigger.”


“Tony would not approve,” Merci says as they are ushered onto the floor of Club Kameleon.

The girls are dressed for the club; Merci looks fantastic as usual, but Jill seems uncomfortable in the tight black dress. She nods back at Merci.

“I gotta say I’d agree with him; this music is shit, the drinks probably cost more than my first car, I can barely see through this crowd, and I feel naked without my body armor.”

“That’s not what I meant. We’re entering a meeting with heavily armed thugs, the leader of whom blames me for stealing her boyfriend and sending her to prison on several occasions.”

“Oh, that,” Jill says, “Well this was the safest place I could think of. She may be crazy, but if anyone gets shot, we’ll have five-dozen witnesses. She isn’t that crazy.”

Merci shakes her head.

“No Jill, she really is.”

: Triple bogeys up ahead…

Jill peers towards the private table in the back. Those had to be them; either that or this club gets a real weird nightlife crowd. The Bottom Girls are all leather, chains, high heels, but mostly just uncovered skin. Not the most practical of uniforms, but it sends a message none-the-less. As Jill and Merci walk closer, Jill taps her skull and whispers.

“Hey Jack, you still in there?”

: Huh, yeah. I’m not going anywhere babe.

“Its just that this is usually the time where you’d say something about how I should be making out with them. And you didn’t even touch my comment about feeling naked before. Are you sure you’re feeling yourself? Did the hack do more damage then you thought?”

: Nobody can hack me, babe. In fact, I was multitasking just now, hence the lack of argumentation on why you should engage with the hot babeage.

“Multitasking? On what?”

: Just sending the bitch who tried to cyber-attack me a little consolation prize...

Jill doesn’t ask what he was up to; at this point the ladies at the table would have heard her apparently talking to herself, something that may not have helped their negotiating position. The Bottom Girls don’t see them coming till they were standing over the table. Sheila is the first to look up. Her skin was darker then her Thai heritage would hint, and her eyes were like emeralds mixing in coffee. With their brilliant glow, all you had to do was look at them to know that she a psychopath. Before Merci can say word one, Sheila has a Glock pointed at her throat. Merci never winces.


“Bitch,” Sheila replies.

The other two Bottom Girls at the table place their hands on their pieces. Nobody in the club has noticed them yet; Jill paces around Sheila without a word.

“Wrong time, wrong place Merci,” Sheila says, “ I’ve got an important meeting tonight and I don’t have time for you. So whimper on home with your tail between your legs, and tell Tony ‘die’ for me.”

“I am your meeting Sheila. I’m a friend of Jack. I came here to talk, not to fight.”

“Wow, sucks to be you,” Sheila laughs, “if you’re coming to me for help, then you gotta be in the real shit. This is beautiful. See, problem is, I hate you more than money, so you can take your deal and shove it right up your pretty little ass. Also, that doesn’t leave me much of a reason not to blow your brains out.”

The tip of Jill’s rifle taps against Sheila’s skull. Jill’s holds the heavy weapon one-handed, but her finger remains glued to the trigger. The other two Bottom Girls pull out their guns as well, but Jill had placed herself opposite of them; any shot they take at her would have to go through their boss. Sheila stares at the gun with contempt.

“How did you sneak an assault rifle in here?”

Jill shrugs.

“You ever see Die Hard?”

Sheila never confirms or denies. She instead pulls the hammer back on her pistol. The crowds of club-goers have finally noticed the incident and are backing away to give the standdown more room. Sheila and Jill cross eyes, Sheila smirks.

“Don’t try and play me little girl. I’m Sheila *vulgarity*ing Bang Bang. Do you how *vulgarity*ed that makes you?”

Jill pauses; her gun remains raised.

“I just escaped from my old enemies as well as my comrades in arms, my fellow Angels of Mercy, as they gunned down the closest thing I had to a best friend. I couldn’t do anything but run away. They’ve gone after my friends, my family, and everyone I hold dear. So I think I’m pretty well aware of how *vulgarity*ed my life is, and I don’t really see how gunning down some punk stripper with an attitude could make things any worse.”

If Sheila is moved by the speech, or by the rifle barrel pointing at her, it doesn’t show. In spite of, or perhaps because of, her position as the only one not holding a gun, Merci still retains some cool sense of reason. She snaps her fingers to move Sheila’s attention from Jill to herself. Sheila’s whips back towards her.

“What do you really want Merci?”

“I want to offer you something I know you can’t turn down,” Merci says, “I can offer you a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“You have nothing I want.”

Merci leans in and stares right back into Sheila’s wild green eyes.

“You want to see Tony De Luca defeated, humiliated, and groveling for mercy before you; I want to help.”

Sheila pauses before answering. Her eyes narrow, and her finger slides off the trigger.

“I’m listening…”

#8 deojusto


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Posted 28 June 2012 - 09:20 PM

Chapter 1, Part 3

The ‘team’ sits around a large table in the secret basement of the Atlas Initiative Compound. Rifles, bombs, and other armaments are stockpiled in crates in the corner. Mounted lighting fixtures glow above them without color or noise. An elevator door sits at one end of the room, and a door to the rest of the hive-like basement level sits at the other. A towering supercomputer emits a constant buzz in the exact center next to the table.

John spins the revolver in his hand around by its trigger guard, periodically snapping it to a stop when it points at Tony’s head. Tony De Luca glares back unblinking; he holds his hand to his head and drums the table with the other. Reynolds only smiles back. Spin, spin, spin, stop. Spin, spin, spin, stop.

Next to John is young woman with streaks of red cutting through her long black hair. She gently slides the glasses from her face, and places them in a pocket of her trenchcoat. She turns to her side.


“Yes, Sylvia.”

“Stop it.”

He obliges and holsters the handgun quickly and without comment.

The elevator door dings and the doors slide open. Jesse and Keijo exit, escorted by the resident chemist and marksman, Thomas Jackson. Even when he turns to the bad guys, he still wears the Kato mask. The other three at the table rise from their seats as Keijo approaches. John winks discreetly at Jesse, who smiles in return. Sylvia rolls her eyes. Keijo waves them all off and they slump back down into their chairs.

“I just finished inspecting our newest capture with Mr. Jackson,” Keijo states, “there seems to be a problem, her body is rejecting our ‘gift’.”

“Well, she always had a habit of being difficult,” John says.

“I’m sure. Mr. Jackson is administering a sedative drip, three times normal strength.”

“You’re keeping her sedated in Jackson’s care?” John asks. He smirks, “ And here I thought she was a little too old for your tastes to be locked up in your little playground.”

Jackson speaks without expression.

“She is.”

Keijo sighs.

“Anyway, we’ll be holding onto her until a better solution can be found. In the meantime, I hope none of you will disappoint me again. We’ve already had them slip out from our fingers once.”

“No worries doll,” Tony replies, “Remington tailed them as they drove into Lowtown, He’s the best tracker we have. They’re not going anywhere, and they ain’t dumb enough to attack here again. And thanks to Sylvia’s work on the Sentinels and Police databases, they have no one to turn to. I don’t think it would be wise to waste any more time trying to take them on. The main plan is nearly ready, we shouldn’t try and divide our forces.”

“I have to respectfully disagree,” Sylvia says, “ I think I may have earlier underestimated the possibilities that they have managed to hack my encryption.”

Tony swivels towards her.

“I thought you said that you had crashed the systems of the intruder. That you had out-hacked him.”

“Well, I thought I had,” she says, “then when I went to check on the mainframe, I found that soon after they left, someone had tried to remotely access it to download about twelve terabytes of pornography.”

There is a slight pause. John leans back in his chair.

“I’m guessing a terabyte is like, a lot of porn?” he asks.

“That’s an understatement. I was able to shut it down before it crashed the whole thing, but when I brought I back online I found that they had downloaded our central file for Project Reaver off of one of the terminals. I would suspect our mystery hacker is better than I thought, and may be able to decrypt my files; ‘Jack’, was it?”

“Yeah,” John says, “That definitely sounds like something he’d do. So then, now that they’ve gotten their sticky fingers all over our evil plans, can I please go hunt them down?”

Keijo looks to Tony who doesn’t respond one way or the other. She then turns back to John.

“I’ll see if I can talk the Atlas Initiative into loaning us some armed thugs. However I still want to keep the majority of our forces here. You can meet Mr. Remington in the field if you choose; I’d like to hope that you can stop him from mauling any of our intended captives.”

John rises from his seat.

“Of course, I would never give him the impression that he can go against an official order.”


John smokes a cigarette amongst the mud colored barracks on the surface of the compound. Sylvia traipses out the doorway of an inconspicuous elevator hidden inside an outhouse. She heads his way.

“Thought you would have left by now.”

“Nope,” he says, “still waiting for my goons to arrive. With Jill’s aim its always nice to have a few extra bodies to soak up the bullets.”

Sylvia nods. She leans against the cold wall of a nearby barrack.

“I hate this place,” she says, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the gift. No more shame, no more moral worries, no more having to waste my talent protecting a bunch of incompetent flatfoots. But the sooner we can finish this and I can move away from these slack-jawed knuckle-dragging cretins the better.”

“And do what?” John asks, “You work for Sayang now, Sylvia darling. Chaos, pain, and terror, oh my. What could you plan to do once we destroy it all?”

“I’m going to become the most *vulgarity*ing brilliant thing ever, that’s what.”

She says it not out of belief, but out of certainty.

“I’m going to take all the knowledge on the planet and download it right into my brain. And I’m going to use your little blonde friend to do it.”

John drops the cigarette into the dirt.

“Wouldn’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re stupid enough as it is Reynolds, don’t play even dumber. I know about Pax Draconian’s experiments with A.I technology. I know about ‘Jack’. I know what he really is. An implant chip, a super genius intelligence that can upload a near infinite amount of information from the internet and turn the human brain into the world’s most complex computer. Infinite potential, and how is it used? By some ditz blonde to beat traffic lights and porn bomb my mainframe. It’s being wasted on her. I could use it so much better. I want it, John. Sylvia wants, and thanks to Sayang, what Sylvia wants, Sylvia takes.”

John smiles.

“Well that’s quite an ambitious plan. How exactly do you plan to do it?”

Sylvia walks up to John and pulls her glasses out. She slides them back up bridge of her nose.

“Well, since you’re bringing her in, I was hoping that before you hand her over for her ‘transformation’, you could hand her over to me so I could…pick her brain a bit.”

John gently lifts his hand to her face and grips the edge of her glasses.

“You know Sylvia, I always thought there was something intangibly sexy about a smart woman who knew what she wanted.”

She sneers out a smile, then peels his hand off.

“Don’t even try it Reynolds. You may be able to pull that lover-boy crap with the Harper sisters, but I am so way out of your league. I know you; you pretend not to be as changed as the rest of us. You may not have become a rabid animal like Remington, or a twisted monster like Jackson, but the gift effects you all the same. You’d kill me just as soon as *vulgarity* me. However you’re still too much of a selfish prick to throw away your one good chance at real power. If you still have any scrap of reason you’ll do what I say; with Jack’s powers I will overthrow Keijo and become the new queen bitch of Ouroboros. At which point you are really going to want to be on my good side Johnny boy.”

Sylvia walks back off towards the hidden elevator doors. When her back is turned John silently pulls his gun from his holster. He levels it towards her head. She enters the elevator and the doors close.


John knocks the gun back as if he had just blown her head off. Then he spins the gun around his finger and slides it back into its holster.


Every seat at the table, save one, has been filled since the little incident with The Bottom Girls. The club was still as loud as ever, and management didn’t even ask them to leave. As much as they would like to uphold their reputation of exclusivity, the Kameleon Club knew better than to start a feud with Sheila Bang Bang over one little Mexican standoff.

A few minutes after the incident the Conspiracist had walked in with two more ‘independent contractors’ in tow. However he didn’t walk in so much as he just appeared; one second the seat was empty, the next he was sipping down a 20$ bottle of water through his mask. Merci would have to ask how he managed to do that some time.

She was able to get a few good passing glances at the two new faces, or at least at the woman who at least had a face. The young woman was perhaps a bit too scruffy looking to get past the chick in the beret who was bouncing the door, but nothing that a change of clothes couldn’t fix. She was small framed, with long black hair that went almost to her elbows. The only thing shocking about her was her eyes, an intense grey that indicated something much more dangerous lurking beneath.

The other one to join them at the table made Conspiracist look borderline normal by comparison. Somehow he managed to get in wearing full body armor. This fact led Jill to clench her fist angrily, then forcefully smooth out the dress that was riding up on her.

He claimed his name was Dakota Sheppard. Despite not being an American woman as the name would imply, he also claimed to be Russian and a man. His accent seemed like something he picked up from watching old James Bond villains. As Merci watches Dakota, she begins to assume that his name must only be one of the many things he was lying about. Jill noted that he managed to talk almost as much as Jack. As they all wait at the table he goes on and on about his exploits, that he assassinated the President of Russia, and the Vice President of America. Both of these claims remain demonstrably false, but no one says anything. He at one point states that he is an android and that “If you want to fight, I’ve got advice; GIVE UP NOW!”. The girls all nod politely. His body seemed to be a featureless purple mylar skin that was sparingly covered with silver plating, so the bit about being an android may have been true. Either that, or he was a compulsive liar who showed up to a nightclub in a bright purple full body leotard with metal armor.

Merci turns to Conspiracist.

“So, is this all of Jack’s team?”

“Not quite,” he replies, “but it looks like the last one finally made it in.”

He points to a woman pushing her way through the crowd. At first Merci guesses she must be another one of the Bottom girls due to her fashion choices, but as she walks incrementally closer Merci realizes the truth.

“The bouncer?”

The girl who had ushered them all in manages to cut through the mob on the dance floor. She didn’t look like she could be more than 120 at best; why she would be working as a bouncer is anyone’s guess. She approaches the back table and immediately turns to Conspiracist.

“Wait, I thought I told you three there was no way you were getting in.”

He shrugs.

“I have my ways. I should have mentioned that I’m a friend of Jack. We’re here to talk about the job offer he mentioned.”

She sits in the last remaining chair between Talon and Jill. Jill offers her hand to her, and the woman accepts; it was like shaking hands with a radiator, hot and steely hard. Jill doesn’t mention it, then looks around the table. She whispers low enough that no one else can hear her over the blare of the music.

“So Jack, not to be picky, but I assumed based on some of your earlier comments that you would have hired a little bit more ‘chest hair’ for the team.”

:Gotta take what you can get babe. Syndicate is a very estrogen heavy place right now. Female empowerment, affirmative action, whatever; crime is an equal opportunity business… Besides, this way we only have to pay them eighty cents to the dollar.

Jill sighs but no one takes notice. Merci leans over the table and speaks.

“All right now that we’re all here, I want to keep this short and simple. You are looking at what remains of the Angels of Mercy in Khazan. Our friends and allies have all turned against us. Evil is not a term I use lightly, but I think in this case it applies. We need your help getting them back to the side of good, or if that is not possible, stopping them from hurting more people.”

Sheila lets out a sick smile, but allows Merci to continue.

“You will be getting paid according to what our contact Jack quoted you at earlier,” Merci says, “However, more important than money is the fact that if we fail there’s a very good chance that their plan would have killed you, and everyone else in the city, anyway. So really we’re doing you a favor.”

The bouncer raises her hand timidly, then speaks.

“So, is there any possibility that we could talk to Jack about all this? He never explained any of this over the phone.”

Jill shakes her head.

“Meeting Jack isn’t very likely. In fact I’d say it’s probably impossible.”

The scruffy girl in the cap sitting next to Conspiracist speaks next. She does not bother to raise her hand.

“If this is such a big deal then why not get the cops on it? Or the Sentinels? Fighting evil is sort of their bag. I actually have some contacts over there if you need them.”

Jill shakes her head even more.

“It would be easier to meet with Jack.”


Conspiracist puts his glass down on the table and wipes off the remaining water hanging off his mask.

“Because our enemies are smart,” he says, “They’ve managed to cover up their actions every step of the way while managing to frame us in ways the Sents or the cops can’t ignore. They’ve got contacts inside the department and someone on their side has managed to hack the criminal database and tie us to unsolved crimes, for which they are no doubt the actual perpetrators. The three of us are now wanted for felony murder, burglary, kidnapping, arson, and what was that last one?”

“Mayhem,” Jill adds, “So as you all can guess, waltzing into Sentinels HQ would just end up with Super-Duper man planting his knee in my spine while he puts the cuffs on. That’s why we’re coming to you all. When you’re branded as a criminal you have to turn to criminals.”

The grey-eyed woman in the cap stares Jill’s direction. Jill begins to feel a slight migraine coming on.

“I’m not a criminal; I’m a body guard.”

“Yeah, sure, and I’m a ‘private military contractor’”, Jill replies, adding the air quotes herself, “I’m not interested in what you call yourself. Bouncer, bodyguard, mercenary, whatever. We’re facing off against really bad people here, so are you in or out?”

One of Sheila’s girls interrupts. Jill can’t remember her name, but she speaks with a distinctive southern twang.

“So, when you say bad, how bad exactly are these guys? You must be up against some serious trouble if you need our help.”

“It’s the Children of Sayang,” Jill replies. The comment doesn’t raise any eyebrows amongst the group.

“They’re the guys who were behind the Horsemen of May last year,” Jill adds.

The girl in the beret seems shaken. However, the grey-eyed girl across from her reacts differently.

“In that case I’m in,” she says, “Personally, I can’t wait to get some payback on behalf of Khazan City.”

“Agreed!” shouts the purple Slavic android, “ If I am getting paid, then I shall help you kill these children.”

Sheila raises her gun and caresses the barrel.

“You already know where I stand. Just point me in Tony’s direction and stay out of my way.”

The eyes of everyone at the table turn to the female bouncer in the beret. She shakes her head.

“No way. I was in the Bottoms when that shit went down. Those people, they’re… look, I may need the money, but I don’t need it that bad.”

She stands and walks away from the table without a goodbye. Merci doesn’t bother to wait until she is out of sight before addressing the group once more.

“Fine then. If she’s walking now I don’t want her losing it in the heat of battle; we’re better off without her. But if you’re in now, there is no way out. Till death or victory. Understood?”

The group nods. With no further negotiation the team is completed: Merci, Jack & Jill, The Conspiracist, Shiela Bang Bang, Cutey Honey, Georgia Girl, Sarah Maroon, and Talon.

From a far corner a man in a fashionably pink silk shirt watches the table carefully. There is a tattoo of a giant circular dragon on the back of his neck. He makes a call on his cell phone as they begin to leave.

#9 deojusto


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Posted 28 June 2012 - 09:25 PM

Chapter 1 is done. There's a lot of exposition above, for which I apologize, but it has to go somewhere. Everybody's characters should have shown up by now, and the confrontation is looming. I'm just wrapping up the final chapter. I'm at page 70, but there is a light at the end of the narrative .

PS, if you could, I would appreciate any occasional commenting to bump this along with the other stuff in the FPL fic area/ also any mistakes or confusion you notice is probably bad editing on my part, please point it out if you can.

#10 Jason Redfield

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Posted 29 June 2012 - 12:51 AM

Looks good! I was definitely pulled in. I don't really have any complaints to level here. Good character development all around, particularly with the infected Angels. I'm having fun learning more and more about what makes John tick.

Scourge was perfect, and the description of his little experiment was predictably disgusting in a way only you can manage, deo.

By the looks of things, I'm guessing Redfield won't be making an appearance other than his name being dropped earlier? I merely ask out of curiosity.

By the way, congrats on the promotion.

#11 KevinDWolf93


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Posted 29 June 2012 - 01:09 AM

By the looks of things, I'm guessing Redfield won't be making an appearance other than his name being dropped earlier? I merely ask out of curiosity..

I was curious myself on that, though if nothing else we can add "Best Hider ever!" to ol Vanguard's list of accomplishments . Not like anyone who would know where his hideout is would be in a position to let that slip anyways...

I agree with much of what Redfield regarding plot and characters, especially the infected Angels. If I had to vote, Jill had probably my favorite monolgue talking about nothing to lose. Bottom line I definitely care about what happens to everyone shown. I will admit I was sorta expecting an actiony chapter cliffhanger, seemed too good an opportunity to pass up the wolfman or some grade-A thugs interrupting via kicking down the front door, especially after both points were mentioned, almost foresadowed. Ah well, like you said, exposition's gotta go somewhere, and I'm sure the ch 2 opener will satisfy that idea. On the other hand I gotta say I liked the rollcall we got at the end, definitely worked I think for what's gonna happen.

PS: There were a few points you skipped a word in a sentence once or twice, can't find it currenly, but I think it wasn't terribly noticable. ll edit if i can find em again.

#12 He who fights monsters

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Posted 29 June 2012 - 01:20 AM

The narrative implies that Jasmine Smith got killed off. It would be more fun to read if she's alive. The bitchiness provides extra entertainment.

#13 deojusto


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Posted 29 June 2012 - 01:51 AM

The narrative implies that Jasmine Smith got killed off. It would be more fun to read if she's alive. The bitchiness provides extra entertainment.

I didn't know if I should assume she was dead since she was out of the database. I can go back and alter it to say she's disappeared much like Vanguard if you like

#14 force_echo


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Posted 29 June 2012 - 07:49 AM

Great work. Inspires me to write a fanfiction. If not another character.

And now I'm starting one. Thanks Deo.

Wait a *vulgarity*ing second. Did you just say page 70? As in, 70 pages on Microsoft Word?

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Posted 29 June 2012 - 08:50 AM

Yes. Good. Keep Going. Good.

#16 Jason Redfield

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Posted 29 June 2012 - 09:37 AM

If I ever manage to actually make a comeback to the FPL, I could actually have an explanation as to why Redfield disappeared so mysteriously. It works with my two new characters, in any case.

Also, I like the new Rob. He eats people and doesn't afraed of anything.

#17 deojusto


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Posted 29 June 2012 - 12:34 PM

Thanks for the feedback guys, glad to know I inspire so much out of you. And yeah I said 70, its exactly 74 now and I've still got a few more scenes left. That's why I drop in little pieces like this, if it all came out at once you'd have to read a novella, which while it has some advantages, I think most people would find difficult.

#18 force_echo


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Posted 29 June 2012 - 01:19 PM

So you're actually capable of writing a legit-no-bullshit-actual book? You should try and publish it.

#19 He who fights monsters

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Posted 29 June 2012 - 01:27 PM

I didn't know if I should assume she was dead since she was out of the database. I can go back and alter it to say she's disappeared much like Vanguard if you like

Sure. Anything is good. Besides, I retire from FPL and my characters disappear.

#20 Darkender


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Posted 30 June 2012 - 07:36 PM

I could see trying to publish FPL works kinda difficult, but then again I know nothing about that stuff.

Anyways, everytime I read a fic with The Conspiracist in it I'm inspired to rewrite him. These fics definitely made his character more than his character sheet.

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