Post by Covenant on May 7, 2008 17:59:54 GMT -5
((Luminarium and I have been RPing a story over xfire, and I thought I'd post a little of it here for kicks. This is how the scenario began.))
Covenant stepped out of the darkened building into the inky, foggy night of Apollyon. He touched the inner breast pocket of his perfectly tailored suit and felt his cargo: a 3½ inch diskette with some stolen data for delivery to a nearby Zion base. He looked up and down the deserted, silent avenue, which was glossy with recent rain. Covenant snapped open his cell and listened patiently to the metallic ring inside the earpiece as he started walking.
When the line clicked over, the voice on the other end was young and sounded anxious. “Operator.”
“Fuse, it’s me. I have the data and I’m on my way. Are they ready?”
“Everything’s all set. Any problems getting the data out?”
“No problems,” said Covenant. “Well, no problems a little creative hacking couldn’t sol . . . OOF!” A blur suddenly erupted from between two parked cars and blindsided him with a rush of unexpected force. As he was shoved flailing into an alley, he dropped his phone and it clattered loudly on the empty, slick pavement.
Covenant struggled against the assailant, who was now joined by a small group of others in the unlit alley. There were several pairs of arms trying to subdue him, and Covenant grimaced when one of them landed a well-placed blow across his face. As he blinked to erase the stars from his field of vision, the attackers hoisted him to his feet. One of them had Covenant’s arms pinned at his back and restrained him in a grip of iron, despite Covenant’s vigorous twisting.
There was a click of a hammer being cocked and the alley was suddenly very still.
Covenant was staring down the barrel of a handgun. Looking past it, he saw that the gun was being aimed at his forehead by the tattooed arm of a scrawny exile. As he glanced around him, Covenant counted six more exiles, all young kids, dressed in downtown club gear. Five Points, he thought bitterly.
The scrawny one was smirking with a vicious grin. “It’s over, redpill. Congratulations – you’re my third Point tonight.”
“You know what they say,” Covenant remarked as he cocked his head, “the third time is a charm.” With blinding speed, Covenant kicked out and up, striking the gun from the exile’s hand with one foot and planting the other squarely into the exile’s face. He rode the momentum and flipped over his captor, landing behind him and ejecting him out of the alley with a devastating two-fisted punch as the surrounding gang members rushed to recapture him. Anticipating them, Covenant leapt straight into the air and kicked with both legs, sending two exiles crashing into the adjacent brick walls. A few moments and several crushing blows later, the remaining gang members were scrambling to their feet and scattering in a hasty retreat.
As their footfalls faded into the dark, quiet night, Covenant touched his breast pocket and was relieved to feel the data still there, unharmed. A millisecond later, however, his stomach dropped with dismay.
His phone.
He stepped out of the alley and looked around the sidewalk where he was ambushed, but it was gone. “Shit,” he hissed under his breath. If those exiles had stolen his phone, all they had to do was hack through the uplink’s encryption and start downloading his broadcast logs right out of the Devildog’s core . . . it was only a matter of time.
Covenant drew his sidearm and ran to the corner, looking up and down the intersection for any sign of the fleeing exiles, but they were already long gone. “Shit!” he swore again.
He needed to get to a phone.
Covenant stepped out of the darkened building into the inky, foggy night of Apollyon. He touched the inner breast pocket of his perfectly tailored suit and felt his cargo: a 3½ inch diskette with some stolen data for delivery to a nearby Zion base. He looked up and down the deserted, silent avenue, which was glossy with recent rain. Covenant snapped open his cell and listened patiently to the metallic ring inside the earpiece as he started walking.
When the line clicked over, the voice on the other end was young and sounded anxious. “Operator.”
“Fuse, it’s me. I have the data and I’m on my way. Are they ready?”
“Everything’s all set. Any problems getting the data out?”
“No problems,” said Covenant. “Well, no problems a little creative hacking couldn’t sol . . . OOF!” A blur suddenly erupted from between two parked cars and blindsided him with a rush of unexpected force. As he was shoved flailing into an alley, he dropped his phone and it clattered loudly on the empty, slick pavement.
Covenant struggled against the assailant, who was now joined by a small group of others in the unlit alley. There were several pairs of arms trying to subdue him, and Covenant grimaced when one of them landed a well-placed blow across his face. As he blinked to erase the stars from his field of vision, the attackers hoisted him to his feet. One of them had Covenant’s arms pinned at his back and restrained him in a grip of iron, despite Covenant’s vigorous twisting.
There was a click of a hammer being cocked and the alley was suddenly very still.
Covenant was staring down the barrel of a handgun. Looking past it, he saw that the gun was being aimed at his forehead by the tattooed arm of a scrawny exile. As he glanced around him, Covenant counted six more exiles, all young kids, dressed in downtown club gear. Five Points, he thought bitterly.
The scrawny one was smirking with a vicious grin. “It’s over, redpill. Congratulations – you’re my third Point tonight.”
“You know what they say,” Covenant remarked as he cocked his head, “the third time is a charm.” With blinding speed, Covenant kicked out and up, striking the gun from the exile’s hand with one foot and planting the other squarely into the exile’s face. He rode the momentum and flipped over his captor, landing behind him and ejecting him out of the alley with a devastating two-fisted punch as the surrounding gang members rushed to recapture him. Anticipating them, Covenant leapt straight into the air and kicked with both legs, sending two exiles crashing into the adjacent brick walls. A few moments and several crushing blows later, the remaining gang members were scrambling to their feet and scattering in a hasty retreat.
As their footfalls faded into the dark, quiet night, Covenant touched his breast pocket and was relieved to feel the data still there, unharmed. A millisecond later, however, his stomach dropped with dismay.
His phone.
He stepped out of the alley and looked around the sidewalk where he was ambushed, but it was gone. “Shit,” he hissed under his breath. If those exiles had stolen his phone, all they had to do was hack through the uplink’s encryption and start downloading his broadcast logs right out of the Devildog’s core . . . it was only a matter of time.
Covenant drew his sidearm and ran to the corner, looking up and down the intersection for any sign of the fleeing exiles, but they were already long gone. “Shit!” he swore again.
He needed to get to a phone.