View Single Post
Old 03-17-2018, 12:01 AM   #417
Nerd Violence
Sayonara Bye Bye
 
Nerd Violence's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2017
Posts: 995



Marshals' Headquarters



[ PikaGod ]


You were born to be a hero; you know it to be true. Bedlam Ridge has fallen into chaos, the Marshals are struggling to keep the peace, and the civilians are suffering. Something has to change. That's where you come in. You are darkness. You are the night. You are...

...Quentin.

You announce your arrival with all the pomp and circumstance it deserves. The lobby of the headquarters, initially buzzing with activity, goes silent. A woman at the front desk stares at you, dispatch radio in one hand. An officer in full uniform, a densely packed manila folder in hand, blinks in bewilderment. There's a man pouring coffee at a small station in the corner who forgets about his drink in lieu of your arrival, until his cup overflows. He hisses and drops the mug on instinct as searing hot liquid pours over his hand. His pain breaks the silence, and with a trickle, the space slowly returns to work.

"Yes, can I help you?" The woman at the front desk asks, radio receiver still in hand. She beckons you over, lest you continue to stand there, blocking the front door. "Do you have a crime to report? You'll have to talk to an officer, in that case..."

She makes a vague gesture at a uniformed man with shaggy brown hair, who approaches the desk, picking up on the fact that he might be needed. He gives you a smile. Before you can answer the woman with your intent of purpose, however the radio in her hand crackles to life, he voice on the other end sounding terse and a little urgent.

"Dis...atch... This is Sierra 11...3... We have an incident at Cry...al Groves. Ribs a...tivity suspected. Requesting backup."

"Ribs?" The officer echoes, looking concerned. You catch a glimpse at his name tag; engraved in the metal plate is 'Sgt. Barnes.' He looks at the woman handling dispatch. "That far north?"

"I guess so," the woman sighs. She sounds about as unhappy with this turn of events as he looks. Pressing the button on the side of the receiver, she leans into the device in her hand, and responds: "Roger that, Sierra 1143. Backup is inbound."

Sgt. Barnes' nods, and checks his belt to make sure he has his Poké Balls on hand -- looks like he's 'backup.' He walks past you, heading towards the door; you could probably follow after him, if you wanted. Then again... he looked pretty concerned with whatever was going on at the Crystal Groves. Maybe it would be better not to try and involve yourself. You could stay here, and explain to the nice lady at dispatch your desire to help. Or see if anyone else needs help. The man who spilled his coffee mops it up in the corner, and Sgt. Barnes has begun untying a Mudsdale from a hitch just outside the building, while the dispatcher stares at you expectantly.

What will you do?




Crimson Sanctum



[ Balmund ]


You have a dark past, and dark desires. Some say that an eye for an eye makes the entire world blind, but what do you care? You want for revenge, plain and simple. You're willing to do whatever you have to in order to get it, as well -- even align yourself with people as sinister as the Shells. Although... your soul isn't exactly spotless to begin with, is it?

The magnificent stone cathedral stands before you in the distance, stained glass windows glittering in the orange glow of the evening sunlight. You've made it into the heart of the district unaccosted, and find yourself walking down the main road, sanctum of the Shells looming dead ahead. To your right and to your left, houses line the street; a tidy, upper-middle class suburb. There are cars in the driveways, and even children's toys in some of the yards. It's surreal how normal everything looks; you might not even know where you were, were it not for the flags hanging from porch mounts and poles, designating the households as being loyalists. It seems like loyal, capable members of the Shells are set up quite nicely.

Given where you are, you're a bit hyper-vigilant. To your left, you hear the creaking of a gate, and look up just in time to see a trio of children bolting out of a back yard, pistols in hand. For a moment they're too busy chasing after one another to notice you, but then the ring leader -- a freckled girl with huge blue eyes and a dense, trailing cape of fiery red curls spots you.

"Oi!" She yells. Then she charges you, her two friends hot on her heels. She comes to a halt in front of you, and points the gun in her hand at you. Her companions -- a little blonde boy in a blue shirt printed with a big white star, and a black-haired lad with sharp eyes do the same. Having three firearms pointed directly at you might have been terrifying... were it not for the bright orange tips at their muzzles that signified these were merely toys.

"What are you doing here?" She demands, in a thick brogue that you recognize as not being native to this area. She doesn't look a day over nine. "I know everybody on this block! You don't live here."

The miniature neighborhood watch stares you down. The dark haired boy cocks the hammer of his cap gun, looking way too serious. Clearly, they don't like you, a stranger, in their neighborhood. However, they're just children with toy guns, so... you could probably ignore them, and continue on your way to the cathedral. That might run the risk of them fetching their parents, though. Then again... you wanted to offer your services to the Shells, did you not?

The children have you at gunpoint, but not a very concerning gunpoint. The sanctum is but a stone's throw away; maybe 40 yards from where you stand. The longer you stand in the middle of the street, the more attention you bring to yourself.

What will you do?




Shanty Heights



[ Rotom310 ]


You've come to this sad place with a grain of desire to do something good; to make this world a better place. A creature follows you, and another creature follows it -- or so you're pretty sure -- and together the three-ish of you make for a bizarre, disjointed procession through the ghettos. You find, as you walk, that the people on the streets who are going about their lives the best can under the circumstances forced upon them, take pause when you pass by. Housewives picking through bruised produce at a shanty that passes for a market turn and watch you. Children playing stick-ball stop and clear the street, staring at you from the opposite sidewalk. It's unnerving in its ubiquity; every local you come across behaves the same. Is it you? Have you somehow done something wrong?

Your question is answered when a glass bottle goes sailing past your head, shattering on the ground less than a foot from the clawed feet of the Weavile who has become your tenuous companion. A look in the direction of origin reveals the assailant: a slightly overweight man with a receded hairline and a heavy mustache. He's standing on the porch of one of the shacks which pass as a home in this area.

"You get off this block!" He yells, at you and at the Weavile. Behind him, a middle-aged woman with long, mahogany hair comes out through their open front door, and grasps him by the arm, a frightened look on her face.

"Nikolai," she pleads, casting a worried glance at the Pokémon at your side. "Come inside, before you anger it-"

"No, Danielle!" He bellows, shaking her off. Beginning to go red in the face, he points a meaty finger at the Weavile, hand shaking with rage. "I won't let that monster terrorize us anymore! Have you forgotten what it did to the Quincy kid? To little Danny Hansen? To Melanie?"

The woman blanches, and then her face contorts, tears filling her blue eyes. She covers her mouth with her palm and swallows a sob, before speaking up.

"We don't know that it took Melanie!" She yells. The man shakes his head, and picks up a rusted shovel that had been leaning against the porch railing.

"I won't let that damn thing take another child, do you hear me?" He asserts, as he begins to descend the porch stairs. Around you, others have come out onto their lawn and stoops to watch the commotion. Some clutch their kids to themselves, others whisper and murmur in hushed tones. No one, not even the woman named Danielle, makes a move to stop his advance on you. Somehow, you've managed to walk into quite a bit of trouble, although you don't seem to be the source. Rather, the Sharp Claw Pokémon with you appears to be the source of the distrust and, now, violence. But what could he have done to these people? The man with the shovel is crossing his yard with purposeful steps, and you need to think fast.

What will you do?



Nerd Violence is offline