Welcome Guest
[Log In]
[Register]
- Neo Babylon
- →
- Sanctuary of Interactivity
- →
- The Nexus
- →
- Epiphany
| Welcome to Neo Babylon, where knowledge is power! Our forum caters to a wide variety of tastes, from gaming to RPing to arts and entertainment. If you're looking for a place to hang out and discuss your hobbies with like minded individuals, then look no further, you've come to the right place. When registering, don't forget to read the rules and be mindful of your behaviour. Now go out there and have fun! Join our community! If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
- Pages:
- 1
- 2
| Epiphany; A mind is a terrible thing to waste... | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 4 2014, 09:38 PM (1,028 Views) | |
| Arcana Fang | Apr 4 2014, 09:38 PM Post #1 |
Bullshit Patrol
  ![]](http://z2.ifrm.com/static/1/pip_r.png)
|
April 4th, 2014 Jekyl's Tavern New Alastia, USA Myles Sabre tipped up the newest bottleneck in a series of similar bottles and let the liquid burn down his throat and reside deep within his chest. Jekyl, the owner, had come to a great partnership with the soldier after he had been defeated in the Grand Celestial and moved to the city of New Alastia. The location was said to have given New York a run for it's money, and yet, had thrived just as well if not better than the Big Apple. It had taken some strong adjustment time, but Myles had finally become comfortable enough to go trekking out without his MJOLNIR GEN2 Power Armor, and had even ditched the body suit that so conveniently sheltered his skin from the abnormalities. Now he was lined in blue jeans, steel-toed boots, and a blue-and-black quarter sleeved shirt. The regulated shaved head that he once donned had shown the beginnings of brown hair, which had a little gel in it to keep it cool during the random heat rises the city was known for. A short but built man brought Myles' focus back into view with a baritone growl and a finger pointed toward a flat screen TV on the shelf behind him. "Get a load of this, Sabre!" Jekyl yelled to get through the modern day rock blaring out of the speakers just above the SPARTAN's head. Myles turned his head to meet what other patrons had been watching, and focuses in on what was on the television. It was the news, Channel 7 Action News to be exact, and the anchor with the perky tits was speaking with a floating headline next to her head titled Epiphany, New Nightmare? Myles focuses to make sure he got to hear what Sophia Tersha was about to say. "...Thanks Henry. We go to our next story, Epiphany, New Nightmare. Epiphany is a supposed new drug on the streets that gives mysterious powers to those that take it. Here is more from our own Danny Hershall." The camera panned and showed a well built man standing at the intersection of two streets with a brick building in the background with spray paint on it spelling out EPIPHANY in bold lettering. The man had a title bar swing below his figure on the screen, identifying him as Danny Hershall before he started speaking. "That's right Sophia, as you can see behind me in what looks to be normal graffiti, is the name of the new drug, Epiphany. Sources close to the New Alastia Drug Task Force and PD are telling us that they are still investigating the drug itself and no actual arrests of the users nor capture of the drug has been accomplished yet." "The drug seems to tap into the normal condition of the human brain and expand certain energies from it, creating some random powers or gifts for each individual, although the most talk about side-effects are telekinesis, enhanced endurance, and projection of said energy that's being called -Psionic-." The screen flashed to a montage of what appeared to be youths of similar age and all sorts of nationality doing gang related signs and sporting themselves in what some could call thug-like clothing. "The biggest concern is what the criminal element will do with this drug. My sources also tell me that it is beginning to circulate into the self-proclaimed gang war going on and that higher criminals are starting to experiment with the drug as well. The drug is at the top of the leads into the murder of Genesis Corporation's own Salazar Grand, although the Police advise that the case is still quite open. Many are expressing their views about the super or meta humans, nicknamed Specials, getting their hands on the drug an abusing their already incredible powers. Not much is known about the drug other than it is taken in some sort of injection form and pill variant, and that it is known to be addictive. As this story develops, we will bring you all we can. Live from the corner of Broadway and Pickets Drive, I'm Danny Hershall, for Channel 7 Action News." Myles sighed with relief as the screen merged back into the fabulous tits he had just seen earlier, and he downed another fresh bottleneck that Jekyl had placed down while the story had been playing. He hoped the "non-specials" as some of them were deeming themselves, would get into investigation and shut down the drug before it became a problem. Nevertheless, he felt in the bottom of his gut that this story would be popping up again soon, as he hadn't ever read about it during his time in the future. He had once ago realized that his travel back in time, as much of an accident as a blessing, had taken all the history he ever had studied and made him relive it, but with changed events and shuffled timing. As many sci-fi movies as he had read, there had to be some truth that time would change based on the actions of a few, and nothing had been the same since he had arrived. Jekyl leaned over the table once more, "...so, don't you have a fight tonight? Over at the, you know, place that shant be named?" The man's almost boston accent leaked across the table top in a chuckle. "Yeah, you may be right, and speaking of which, I might need to be heading that way..." Myles finished as he laid thirty dollars down on the table top and waved to his short friend who proceeded to flip him off and smile as he screamed things of encouragement to the soldier. Myles flipped through the double doors at the head of the establishment, and looked down at his cell phone, which displayed the time as 8:00 P.M. |
 PLEASE COME CHECK OUT THE CARD GAME EFFORT HERE ON NEO BABYLON!!! | |
 |
 
|
| Psycho Werekitsune | Apr 5 2014, 01:33 AM Post #2 |
Part man...part beast...full psycho!
|
"You've gotta be shitting me, that's the third one today, and the sun hasn't even gone down yet." Not too far off from where the news report had been filmed, still within one of the most poverty stricken parts of the town was the scene of the most recent of gang related murders. Police had cordoned off one of the more run down apartment buildings, coming in and out as they continued investigating one of the rooms on the fourth floor. "Do I need to even ask about the victim's background?" Detective Jack Daniels grunted, before one of the officers on scene briefed him. The detective was a walking, talking stereotype; from his scruffy appearance, to his battered old trench coat, to his gruff personality, he was every bit the kind of law enforcement official the media continuously enjoyed depicting, sometimes comically, on television. As the younger officer spoke, his left hand went to his breast pocket, playing with the box of cigarettes within to calm him before he could leave the scene for a smoke, while his the other moved to the back of his head to scratch it. "Godamn gangs, why can't they keep their shit together? What outfit does he belong to?" "The Spaniards, sir. They're a small local group that consists exclusively of individuals who are ethnically Hispanic." "Jesus Christ, what the hell is wrong with kids these days?" He continued to mumble to himself, turning away from the officer as he began to examine the crime scene on his own, putting on a pair of gloves before leaning over the body to give it a good look. The young man was barely in his 20's, or at least, the remaining half of his face said as much, considering the rest seemed to have been completely obliterated by some unknown force. Some of the remains seemed to have splattered onto the closed window on the wall behind him, dripping onto the cheap linoleum flooring of the kitchen. In his right hand, he held a small revolver and, upon closer examination, it appeared to have been recently fired and was completely empty of all six shots. The detective slowly moved to examine the left hand, carefully prying it open and discovering what appeared to be some torn fabric. "Got something here." One of the CSIs quickly came to him, handing him a pair of tweezers and an evidence bag, allowing him to quickly pluck the item and bag it. He then held the bag up to the window, examining it through the light. "Looks like cheap denim...I think I know who our buddy was messing with before he lost his head...so to speak." Despite his exterior, Daniels was every bit as capable as the badge in his pocket made him out to be. He knew the city better than most and knew people just as well. And while he felt like he was worked to the bone, he wouldn't trade a day on the job for any kind of vacation time because it was all he knew. While this was only one small piece of evidence, it was enough to implicate a very large and prominent group of people within the city's limits. "Your perp's a Blue Devil, or at least, one of them had been with the stiff just before or during the murder. I'll report it in to the precinct, see if we can get one of the little weasels to squeal." It was going to be a very long day. Lars Anderson had finished changing out of his suit and into more casual clothing within the confines of his hotel room. He needed to blend into a crowd of ordinary people where he was going and he saw fit to make sure he did so as best as he could. After exiting the bathroom, the phone within his pocket buzzed, prompting him to quickly pull it out and respond. "Anderson. Yes, good afternoon, sir, we are about to proceed with our excursion." "Mr. Anderson, I would like to remind you that Adam's safety is of the utmost importance. I know you view him as nothing more than a machine but, I assure you, treating him well will bring us great reward and ensuring his safety will be of great benefit to you." "I understand completely, sir, you have nothing to worry about." "I know, that's why I left this job in your hands, because I know I can trust you. Enjoy your stay in New Alastia." He hung up the phone, turning his head to the other man in the room, who was seated on one of the beds and returning a curious gaze. Lars Anderson sighed, walking to the closet to retrieve a leather jacket. "Was that my father?" "Yes, it was. He was checking up on you." "I see. Does he really believe this trip would help gather beneficial data for my development?" "He does, but there's really only one way to find out." Lars tossed Adam a hooded jacket before cocking his head in the door's direction. "Come on, we've got somewhere to be." The other man nodded, putting it on before following Lars's lead as they headed out the room. Two bodyguards, dressed just as casually, who were stationed in the neighbouring room soon followed, discreetly so as not to arouse suspicion. Their destination was what the locals referred to as the Talon Arena, situated somewhere within the heart of the city. |
 EMBRACE THE NAKED!
| |
|
|
|
| -Arem- | Apr 5 2014, 02:09 AM Post #3 |
Fabulous Homosexual
|
Travis jolted awake from his nap under and overpass. The first thing he noticed was the evening atmosphere surrounding him. The sun was going to set in about an hour, and he knew he needed to get moving if he was going to make it to his round in the fights. Picking himself up, he rubbed his eyes. He had another nightmare about his time in the sanitarium. He unconsciously rubbed the thermal print on the back of his neck: T-252A177, the subject name he had in the sanitarium on Charon Station. He was one of the Trinity, a section of humanity that developed psionic powers as a result of biological experiments done on hundreds of thousands of soldiers two hundred years before he was born. What they didn't count on was the experiments had a genetic alteration, causing the experiments to be passed on, eventually mutating into the three powers of the Trinity: telekinesis, telepathy and temporal distortion. But the real kick was, those experiments were done almost a hundred years in this time's future. He had come to this time purely by accident involving a brawl with two temporals--the rivalry between the sects of the Trinity were still fresh--and when a colliding temporal distortion caused a rip in the time-space continuum, he fell in and woke up in an alley-way of this city called New Alastia. The two years he had been here had shown him that there were many other people with powers, well outside the powers of Trinity, and they too were barely tolerated. Some things never change. Standing up, he felt a pounding on his head. It had been over twelve hours since his last dose of Epiphany, the new drug on the streets. Despite the fact that he was a natural telekinetic, he started using Epiphany because he discovered that it allowed him to use the other powers of the Trinity. Temporal distortion was his new favorite, although telepathy gave him a massive headache afterwards. The first time he took a dose, he felt like he could hear all the thoughts in a fifty-mile radius. Taking off his jacket, he reached into his backpack and pulled out a rubber strip, a syringe and a small vial of a colorless drug. Frowning, he noticed that the vial was beginning to run low. He would have to get more soon. He had to make sure the earnings from his fights kept coming in. Tying the strap telekinetically around his left arm, just under the bicep, he clenched his arm repeatedly until he could see the veins in his arm become more and more visible. Telekinetically, he stuck the syringe into the vial and withdrew a small amount. Looking at the syringe, he watched it like a hawk as he moved it to his arm. He did not care for needles--he got stuck with more than enough of them in the sanitarium--but this was faster than pill form. He grimaced as he plunged the needle into his arm. It had been quite an exertion to mentally move his latent telekinetic barriers to allow the needle to enter, but he managed to do it, and it was easier more and more with practice. Mere moments after the needle fed the Epiphany into his bloodstream, he could feel thoughts of the drivers passing above his head pouring over his head like water. The first time, he nearly threw up from the experience; it was like getting hit with a sledgehammer, all those thoughts coming at once. As he withdrew the needle and undid the strap, he looked around and saw the cars passing by quickly down below. Reaching out his hand, he concentrated. There was a rush with in him and when he opened his eyes, he saw the world slow down to nearly 10% normal speed. Smiling, he brought his surroundings back to normal speed and packed everything away. He needed to hurry, the fights were in a few hours. [--overly-dramatic scene change--] A cutpurse hid away in a dark alleyway, trying to rummage through the contents of a purse he just lifted. Sweating profusely, he was looking for any kind of currency that could get him his next fix of Epiphany. You had to do what you had to do to get a fix, even if that meant taking from those that could afford it. A knife shot out of nowhere and pinned his sleeve to the wall. Shocked, he tried to get the knife out but it was stuck-fast into the wall. He then tried to whip the coat off and leave it, when he heard... "I once knew a guy that could take every penny out of your pocket just by looking at you." Looking up, he saw a pair of glowing venom-yellow eyes looking down at him from a broken fire-escape. At once, he panicked. He didn't know his guy, but something about him terrified of him. He froze as the figure dropped right in front of him and wrapped his fingers around the kid's throat. "You? You don't have the style to be cutting purses even in the slums, much less the high part of town." The stranger ripped the purse right out of the punk's hand and then ripped the knife out of the wall. The punk collapsed to the ground, and tried to scramble to his feet, but a firm foot pushed his face down into the pavement. "I suggest you try something more to your style, like gardening. Now, git!" The stranger kicked the kid away, and he scrambled out of the alley. The stranger shook his head as the kid took off. "Kids these days; they think they're the shit until they get the shits. Viper exited the alley and looked around. He soon saw a crowd of police. Judging by the amount, something bad went down. He thought his Reaver arm itched; it always did when there was a lot of fresh blood nearby. Not that he cared; shit went down in this town all the time. Whether it was an insane merc holding up a building complex or something like a demon invasion, something was always going on in this town. One reason he always found himself here. Swirling the purse around in his hand, he heaved it over to the police cars. It landed with a thud on one unit's back window, startling both policeman and onlooker alike. Disappearing back into the alley, he ascended the walls with the grace of a jungle cat. Reappearing on top of a neighboring building, he took in the view. When he arrived her recently, he began hearing about a new drug called Epiphany. Apparently it could turn perfectly normal people into superhumans, and superhumans into even-more powerful versions of themselves. The results were often unpredictable. What people did to themselves mainly weren't his problems. The main reason he was here because he knew that wherever something like that would pick up, trouble would come running, and trouble big enough usually meant money in the pocket for him. While Helix was not in New Alastia, he always came back here to get some cash. After all, one could never had enough money in his business. He also heard there was an underground fighting ring somewhere in the city. Maybe if he was bored enough, he'll see if it was something with seeing. Right now, he was going to hang around. The city would entertain him soon enough. |
  ---
| |
|
|
|
| Arcana Fang | Apr 8 2014, 03:38 AM Post #4 |
|
Bullshit Patrol
|
April 4th, 2014 Talon Arena New Alastia, USA Myles Sabre waited in the tiny section of what would be called the dressing room prepping over his future bout. He wasn't sure what the guy had decided to call himself but he knew the fight would be coming up, and fast. Talon Arena was by all intents and purposes a legal venue, but it wasn't sanctioned by any of the martial or entertainment companies that usually sponsored and provided media coverage, funds, and design to the stadiums and arenas. That didn't stop the money or talent from finding it's way into the venue and it also didn't hurt that the city councilman Bruce Talon personally funded and helped with the arena in his name. The place was decked out in modest plasma screens to cover all the angles that people couldn't get in the cheaper seating, and it also had modest seating as well. High leather chairs, special box areas for those who could afford it, the best heating and air system New Alastia could provide, concessions at the right price, and the jewel of the whole thing: the arena stage. While sporting the modern cage and octagonal design to allow all angles to see, as well as entrances for the talent to make their way into, the lights and sound system that surrounded it allowed for the fights to be cinematic in scope, something that most people didn't realized helped. While the fighters were busy doing their thing, the cameras, lights, and sound helped to elevate the sport to the likes of Colosseum fighting. The whole building was the size of a normal baseball field and just as tall. While the arena covered the majority of the space, there was plenty to the establishment that many didn't see. The dressing rooms were standard, and the whole place was staffed incredibly well for a place that garnered in as much money as it did. Speaking of money, it also helped that those who were in the know how were able to bet on fighters in an under-the-table manner and it was also available for fighters to make their wealth and fame in the arena as long as they kept winning. Myles snapped back to reality and talked over with one of the attendants at the beginning of the hall, waiting for his intro music to start the evening and begin the first round of the night. "So, who will I be fighting tonight?" Myles muttered under his breath, already knowing the answer wouldn't come. "Darling, you know I can't say...no matter how good you look in those shorts." the female attendant smiled. The SPARTAN's physique was decked out in an Under Armor-style black undershirt and navy blue shorts. He had hand wraps and ankle wraps, as customary in his get-up. The normal fighting style was like that of UFC, although the arena had adapted to allowing other fighting styles into it's outstretched walls. He would win one thousand dollars each round and for each better that capped into the max bet on him would grant Mr. Sabre an additional five hundred dollars each round per max bet. Myles was the favorite fighter, and had been an upstart since he had joined the arena fighter roster a mere two months ago. The SPARTAN planned to keep it that way. The opening sequence to his theme, Blow Me Away by Breaking Benjamin started blaring out of the surround sound system and when the chords and lead came to a thunderous head, the fighter came out to speckled and flashing lights that signaled his entrance. The announcer came across the system as well, uttering "Here he is...SPARTAN SABRE!!!" The man's voice carried his shrill and long enunciation of "saber" in the style that lended itself to famous boxing announcers. Myles landed at the entrance to the caged center and the crowd went wild with chanting of his name and screaming. He held his wrapped hands up and saluted their applause, looking around to see if he could peer into the boxes that surrounded the arena. He positioned himself in the middle, staring down the entrance to where the first opponent would come from, and as he did, he stood next to the announcer and the referee to see who would come out of the darkened corridor leading to the platform. |
|
PLEASE COME CHECK OUT THE CARD GAME EFFORT HERE ON NEO BABYLON!!! | |
|
|
|
| Psycho Werekitsune | Apr 9 2014, 01:45 AM Post #5 |
|
Part man...part beast...full psycho!
|
The group of four entered the fight club individually, each taking a completely different seat to the other, while still maintaining proximity in case of an emergency. The two bodyguards flanked Lars and Adam one higher benches while they sat closer to the actual arena, Adam more so to gather data on the fighters. The man currently to one side of the ring was incredibly large, his perfectly toned body practically a sculpted work of art. The flaws lay in the scarring that littered it showing that this man was either incredibly reckless, or that his life was put on the line more often than not. Perhaps he is a soldier? Adam thought to himself as he began to absorb information, all the activity around him accumulating into packets of data absorbed into his mind. It was at this moment that Myles's opponent made his presence known, prompting the announcer to call it in. "Ladies and gentlemen, weighing in at 95 kilograms and standing a full 190 centimetres tall; long time contender, Crazy Bob!" The crowd cheered him on as the large, imposing man marched into the ring, his combat boots resounding despite the sounds of the arena drowning out nearly everything else. Bob was a wanted man, labelled as a terrorist by several law enforcement organisations the world over. As the arena was a haven for gamblers, it was no surprise that it attracted the criminal element, considering everything that happened here stayed here and the right people were always paid off to remain silent. He surveyed his opponent, sizing him up and cracking his hands as he did. He seemed to be in his 20's, though the wear on his body said that his didn't matter considering the experiences he has had. Bob was also a frequent bedfellow of regular combat and had the scars to prove it as well. He was rather tall and well built, but it'd take more than all that to match up with Bob's training, though judging by the way he stood, it was clear he has had some of his own. "You're going down, "Spartan"." Not really one for trash talking, he thought it best to get the fight under way while maintaining some kind of dominance. Bob was already a larger man, so he felt like he clearly had an advantage here. "LET'S GET READY TO RRRRRRRRRRUMBLE!" With the announcer's blessing, the fight was already under way. Bob took the initiative, rushing straight for his opponent and aiming his right fist for Myles's left shoulder. He would naturally follow it up with a left fist to the chest, but the moment his right made impact, he knew something was terribly wrong. Bob was used to hitting other people, yet the familiar feeling of soft flesh and bone beneath the impact was not there. Instead, it was the almost equally familiar feeling of steel and concrete; objects he used to train and strengthen his body. He quickly reeled back, wringing his hand as he put enough space between himself and the SPARTAN. "The hell, you some kinda Aug? A 'borg? Godamn freaks, the lot of you." It was clear that attempting direct impact damage was going to be time consuming and more taxing on his own body. The fact that this man's body was reinforced probably meant he was heavier than he looked, which meant he needed to think outside the box and use his protected feet to do impact damage, as well as attempting holds and throws. He made another attempt at closing in, performing a sliding tackle in an attempt to floor the SPARTAN. Detective Daniels brought his old 1987 Chevrolet Caprice Classic to stop at his destination; a relatively run down bar by the name of The Dinghy Lantern. It was an old Irish pub that had been around for quite some time and, due to its location and relatively lax atmosphere, tended to attract the town's most unruly patrons. He stepped out of the car, lighting his third cigarette since leaving the crime scene before making his way in, making a mental note that the place was starting to fill up as it was the appropriate time of day for drinking. He nodded at the barkeep, an old, cyborg warhorse who went by Smithy to most, before making his way to a table in the back. There sat a group of youths, ranging between the ages of 18 and their late 20's, all decked out in matching blue denim jackets and blue dyed hair. The backs of the jackets bore the insignia of their group; a demonic visage with the words "BLUE DEVILS" stencilled out beneath it. He quietly approached the table and sat, finally gaining the attention, disapproving as it was, of the group. "Hello boys, mind if I borrow a moment of your time?" "Yo Daniels, the hell do you want?" A young man with a bright blue Mohawk spoke up, clearly the group's leading man. Johnny Banks had been one of the founding members of New Alastia's branch of the blue devils and had been a member since he was a teenager. The cause clearly meant more to him than having a safe and stable life, as any sensible person would have left the outfit years ago. "Same thing I always want; to bust your balls. Whaddaya know about this turf war business?" The group all shared the same look of discomfort and uneasiness glancing at each other before looking down at their drinks. "Ain't got nothin' to do with us, man. You know we don't cause trouble." "Sure, but you've gotta admit, there's some crazy people out there threatening your turf." "Whole city's our turf, pops. We do good by people, they let us hang. Not our fault the rest of you "high society" types don't accept us." "Then maybe you might not be in it for the turf, but for the other...thing that's going around." This was clearly a point that was driven home immediately, as they all turned a little pale, getting nervous and breaking into a light sweat. "Look man, we ain't involved in no drugs. This "Epiphany" stuff? We ain't even seen what it looks like, but we seen what it does to peeps." "I'm sure at least one of you has. I just got back from a crime scene with some pretty decisive evidence that implicates someone from your outfit. You got trouble with the...Spaniards?" "Spaniards is trouble, pops, they be goin' 'round and messin' with other people. Usin' race to divide others, it's disgustin', man. They be startin' fights with us in the streets, man. They got guns, we don't got nothin' but our wits, our numbers." "Plenty of you boys have been apprehended with firearms in their possession, stop trying to pawn off your little club as anything but a gang." "It's true man, we got a few bad eggs, a few rogues, but we's straight. Our beef with The Spaniards is the same as anyone else's, you gonna go knockin' on every gang's door to see what they think?" The detective sighed, putting his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray before continuing. "No, I believe you, but I know for a fact that one of you was in the company of a Spaniard before he had his brains blown out, earlier today. Signs show that he was done in by some unknown force and it looks a lot like the other Epiphany victims we've found. If one of you's using, you need to come clean." Johnny was clearly displeased with the assumption, as his group had taken an oath not to dabble in the criminal element. The detective continued, seeing clearly the young man was upset, in an attempt to calm him down. "The city doesn't look too kindly upon vigilantes. We've got freaks running around and a freak brigade to keep them in their place. You guys do what you do around these parts and help your own; so long as it doesn't bother anyone, then that's fine. But if you've got people who are taking this drug and using it to cause trouble, then the city's going to bring down the law hard...on ALL of you." He slowly got up from his seat, taking his leave. "Get your act together and find this guy. The rest of the department's hunting him down and, if you know what's good for everyone, you'll hand him over yourself." "YO MAN, WE DON'T SELL OUT OUR OWN." "If he's taking Epiphany, then he's clearly not your own anymore." And with that, the door to the bar slammed behind the detective, leaving the group in deep thought about what to do next. |
|
EMBRACE THE NAKED!
| |
|
|
|
| -Arem- | Apr 9 2014, 10:07 AM Post #6 |
|
Fabulous Homosexual
|
Travis had arrived sometime before the event started, and was already in the dressing room as it were. While he was wrapping his hands in blue cotton tape, he wondered whom he was going to fight tonight. He wasn't concerned; he wasn't the best fights as he won as many as he had lost, but he couldn't help his curiosity. He had been called the "Tugboat" because of his height among fighters, but fighters who have grappled with Travis knew how hard he hit and how much damage he could take. What others have discovered was the main reason that Travis lost was because he eventually tired out, making him more vulnerable to KOs. It pressured Travis to end the match as fast as he could. He could hear the first fight underway, and elected to watch when he was done preparing. The fight probably wouldn't be done for a while though, and it never hurt to stay warmed up. When he finally wrapped his hands up, he located a horizontal bar in a doorframe and decided to commandeer it as a pull-up bar. Leaping up, he pulled up on it and let himself back down, and repeated several times. Dropping back the the ground, he cricked his neck and stretch his shoulders. Feeling ready to rumble as it were, he decided to step out and watch the fight in progress. When he arrived, he saw two incredibly strong-looking men duking it out. One had the look of a soldier, and the other...well...the other one looked like a maniac. He saw the latter hit the other, but saw that the "soldier" took the blow well. Travis' brow sunk; the only people he'd seen that happen to were fellow telekinetics in the Trinity. Did another one of his brothers meet a similar fate as he did? He would have to ask...but what if he was wrong? Revealing the Trinity's presence was something he was told never to do. Still, the rules changed when he woke up nearly three hundred years in the past, where "freaks" ran almost rampant. He shook his head; what was he even thinking? What was he going to do, walk right up and say "Hey, are you a telekinetic?" "Yeah, that would work out wonderfully." Perhaps it was better he just hung back and see what this guy would do, and then maybe later talk to him. His own fight was next anyway. Perhaps he'll catch him afterwards. [--PRETENTIOUS LINE BREAK--] Viper had decided to take a break from sitting on the roof by stepping into a dive called The Dinghy Lantern. Ordering a bottle of whiskey with no questions asked, he contented to lounge in the darkest corner of the room, and set himself in an area where he could see everyone and no one could see him really. As he drank the throat-burning brew, he watched a pack of gangsters all wearing blue jackets and blue hair. His off and on patronage to the city made him savvy to some of the gangs in this town. Doubtless these were the Blue Devils. Viper paid them no mind; compared to some of the other gangs in this city, this particular breed was boring. Suddenly, someone stepped into the dive and looked every inch a detective. Viper's eyes shot right at him. What would a guy like that be doing in a dive like this? Viper took another swig and contented to stay still and listen. Eventually, the detective ventured over to the Devils. Viper watched him with his peripheral vision. He tuned his hearing just so he could hear everything. "Hello boys, mind if I borrow a moment of your time?" "Yo Daniels, the hell do you want?" "Daniels, huh? Boring name and a boring look." He continued to listen in as they traded words, and then the name "Epiphany" was dropped. More about the drug, huh? "So, the brass is doing something about it, huh? He listened on in silence. Finally, the detective seemed satisfied with what he got and decided to leave. Viper got curious about all he heard. A turf war and a far more nefarious gang. Sounds like he just might have found some amusement. Getting up from his chair, he walked over to the Blue Devil's table and slammed a hand down. The Blue Devils were startled, first from the hand and then from his eyes as he leered down at all of them. "Now, boys, here's the angle: I ask a question, you answer it. I like what I hear, nothing happens. If I don't..." His eyes glinted brighter. "Let's just say that a bad apple in your group will be the smallest thing you all will worry about." "Now, tell me everything you know about the Spaniards...and Epiphany." |
|
---
| |
|
|
|
| Psycho Werekitsune | Apr 10 2014, 11:45 PM Post #7 |
|
Part man...part beast...full psycho!
|
The youths were startled out of their conversation on how to approach the current situation before it even got anywhere, their attention being drawn to the strange looking man who had slammed his fist on their table. They were all clearly annoyed, content with what they had to deal with already without an interloper getting involved with their business. One member of the group, a young man clearly of Latin descent, with long blue hair, the bangs of which covered the left side of his face stood up to address the man. "'ey mang, the hell do you want? You don' look like no five-oh. We don' gotta answer to you." "Beat it, bro. We've got our own problems to deal with. You wanna know what's goin' down on the streets, you do your own homework." Johnny was the next to respond, easing back into the pleather seat as he spoke. While the police had a firm hold over them, the gang only really helped out of a deep seated respect for justice, not out of fear. Law enforcement might use intimidation to get what they want, but at the end of the day, The Blue Devils were, in general, a group of good Samaritans and willingly worked as informants on the streets. They preferred not to get involved in the affairs of others, but for the greater good, they were wiling to comply. This man, with not introduction, decided to barge in on them and demand information. If things got out of hand, Johnny trusted that Smithy would notify the authorities, not to mention pulling out the well maintained Benelli M3 Super 90 shotgun he kept behind the bar. |
|
EMBRACE THE NAKED!
| |
|
|
|
| Arcana Fang | Apr 12 2014, 07:13 AM Post #8 |
|
Bullshit Patrol
|
Crazy Bob eh? Myles said to himself as the announcer let a roaring introduction fly out of his spit-slinging mouth. The crowd was letting loose a good yell in addition to all the commotion going on from the fighter's intro, seemingly summoning the wanted man to the center of the arena to face him down. The man was taller than Myles and used the height differential to look down aggressively at the SPARTAN. "You're going down "Spartan"." "Now I know why they call you crazy..." Myles grunted out as a challenge. The announcer began the match and stepped back, with the ref in tow, to allow the melee to commence. The behemoth of a man swung a massive fist towards Myles, impacting into his left shoulder. The SPARTAN took the brunt of the blow, making sure that Bob would feel every muscular and skeletal augmentation the UNSC had spent on him pay off. Besides, he needed to give the crowd somewhat of a show. "The hell, you some kinda Aug? A 'borg? Godamn freaks, the lot of you." Myles' eyes triggered in an intense stare as he honed in on the fight and kicked up his neural training. Crazy Bob began to speed towards him in what seemed like a charging tackle, and brought the most tested tactic Myles could think of. The giant was clearly bigger than he was, and trying to use that difference to knock him down and overpower him. Several Elites had tried to do the same thing, and usually succeeded. The difference here was that Myles could outspeed this guy without the assistance of his powered armor. Myles used his readied stature to let Crazy Bob rush towards him until the last possibly disarming second, side-step just enough to the right that Crazy Bob went past his left flank, and use his elbow to knock the man cold, slamming bio-enhanced skeletal elbow force to the connecting section of the skull and spinal cord. The attack would be a quick and surgical pump of his left arm, and allow the SPARTAN to turn on the ball of his heel to face the male once again, either in a clump of defeat, or in a fit of rage, and use the closer section of the wall to lock him into position once again. He hadn't showed up yet. The fights were starting, and the attention would be in the middle. Why had he not shown up already? To anyone looking at the empty chair, just right underneath one of the closed box sections, they would see one olive-skinned male sitting anxiously in what appeared to be unfamiliar leather clothing. The man, possibly around the tender age of 21, wasn't trying to look out of place, but couldn't cover up the uneasy feeling of waiting. He wore a black leather jacket underneath what appeared to be a wife-beater, and leather pants. His hair was all slicked back and the remnant smell of musky aftershave settled in the approximate air around his clean-shaven face and neck. Fucker better show up... He wasn't use to making deals out in the open, but what could he possibly disagree to that Messiah couldn't assure? Messiah was powerful, Messiah was beautiful, and had a way of making everything work. Quit worrying foo', the pigs won't show up here, and there is always a way out... He clutched the section under his shirt, feeling the concealed pistol next to the empty vial and needle back in his left pocket. He never went anywhere without his piece. Even the supers had trouble dodging a bullet in the temple. He also thought back to his mother, whom he had stolen jewelry from and managed to get enough spare cash to equal in the neighborhood of a grand. Mama don't know, and mama don't need to know... He could use that miracle juice to go bust into the pawn shop and get her stuff back. Put it back where he got it, and everyone would win...what could go wrong? His father had always told him to get his shit together and quit goofing around. He knew that bastard would be proud, granted he could manage to get out of the grave he had put himself. He looked back to the middle of the ring to see what was going on, praying that the Messiah would show up sooner rather than later. |
|
PLEASE COME CHECK OUT THE CARD GAME EFFORT HERE ON NEO BABYLON!!! | |
|
|
|
| -Arem- | Apr 12 2014, 09:32 AM Post #9 |
|
Fabulous Homosexual
|
"'ey mang, the hell do you want? You don' look like no five-oh. We don' gotta answer to you." "Beat it, bro. We've got our own problems to deal with. You wanna know what's goin' down on the streets, you do your own homework." "Perhaps I didn't make myself clear..." His eyes flashed brightly as a hand, fast as lightning, grabbed onto the jacket of the one who spoke to him first, twisted around and hurled him against the bar across from them. While the youth coughed, Viper scooped him right back up. "You're right about one thing. I'm no five-oh. I'm far deadlier. And sure, you don't 'gotta' answer, but that's not a healthy choice." With his free hand, he grabbed one of the gangster's hands and placed a thumb against his fingers. "Now, which finger?" [--LINE BREAK BROUGHT TO YOU BY CAPITAL ONE: WHAT'S IN YOUR WALLET?!--] Travis watched the fight go on, and wasn't afraid to admit that he found the soldier's grace in combat both alarming and mesmerizing. When he spent time among the telekinetics, even they, strong and hardy as they were, hadn't moved with that kind of grace. Travis himself was a scrappy fighter; no real training behind his ability to fight. This guy was a different matter altogether, even to a point that Travis began to dismiss the idea that this guy was like him. Something else made this guy the way he is. With that all in mind, he had to wonder. What was a kind of guy like that doing fighting these kinds of fights? He hadn't showed up yet. The fights were starting, and the attention would be in the middle. Why had he not shown up already? Travis turned his head. He thought he heard something in the back of his head. Did something say something? He turned back to the fight. Fucker better show up... He heard it again. It couldn't have been a hallucination. Something was thinking loud enough for his Epiphany-enhanced psionic powers to reach beyond his normal scope. In other words, the drug allowed him to hear thoughts like the telepaths of the Trinity could. Whoever it was, it was getting on his nerves. Shutting his eyes tight, he tried to block it out. Quit worrying foo', the pigs won't show up here, and there is always a way out... His eyes shot open as he savagely turned around, trying to find any glimpse of a guy who might be thinking such thoughts. Beyond the hollering crowd he could see, he couldn't see anybody. This was the part he hated about taking Epiphany: the telepathy side of the newly found powers often gave him headaches. It took him quite a while to make it manageable, but occasionally, a stray thought or two slipped in. Mama don't know, and mama don't need to know... "Will you shut up?!" his mind screamed. He then balked. Did anyone else hear that in their heads? He never tried to filter any thought he had from escaping his head and into someone elses. Travis rubbed his eyes; he needed to be more careful. Edited by Arem, Apr 12 2014, 09:37 AM.
|
|
---
| |
|
|
|
| Psycho Werekitsune | Apr 14 2014, 12:06 AM Post #10 |
|
Part man...part beast...full psycho!
|
(Fucking computer ate my post, so we gotta do it AGAIN. Also, my font colours are in my profiles thread. ;D) The SPARTAN was so fast that Bob barely saw him move. One moment he was in his path, and the next, he was to the side, dropping his elbow onto the ground to intercept him, like a ton of bricks. It was fortunate for him that his head wasn't completely flat, and parallel to the floor, as he shifted his weight around a little, coming to a halt about a meter past where Myles was originally standing, flipping back to his feet and taking another stance. His eyes widened upon seeing the indentation his opponent's elbow had left in the ground where his head had been in close proximity to only moments before. Narrowing his eyes on his target, he slowly approached him, moving to his right side before throwing another punch, aimed for his right midsection, then followed it up with a high kick to the chin. He was determined to find a weak spot, even if it meant enduring a little pain and taking some damage to his bare fists. He was ready this time though, and focused on the force of impact as if he was training against actual steel and concrete to do more damage. The young man was tossed aside like a rag doll and, before having a chance to regain his composure, was held up once more, his hand firmly in the grasp of the interloper. "F-fuck you...pendejo." The others quickly rose to their feet, each pulling out whatever weapon he had been concealing at the time. Johnny procured two switch blades, while his companions brought forth an aluminium baseball bat and an extending riot baton respectively. They each took up a position around Viper, before Smithy, the barkeep, pulled out his shotgun and aimed it straight at the mercenary's face, right after activating the silent alarm. "Hey buddy, might want to put the kid down. I don't want no trouble; you let him go and skedaddle, and nobody gets hurt. Cops are already on their way, it'll take 'em less than 5 to get here." |
|
EMBRACE THE NAKED!
| |
|
|
|
| Arcana Fang | Apr 18 2014, 04:10 AM Post #11 |
|
Bullshit Patrol
|
Crazy Bob also appeared to be lucky, as he managed to move past the attempted KO attack that Myles prepared for him. The unsatisfying crunch and buckling feeling of the ring taking his blow made Myles look up to see Bob turning around to him, narrowing his eyes. The fighter decided to take another approach at him, moving slow and deliberate this time, keeping his eyes locked with Myles. Better tactic this time buddy. Myles decided to keep his body limber and follow into the tight quarter with Bob, keep his eyes trained on his opponents. Crazy Bob moved to the right, and Myles decided to strafe to the left to try and get a better angle on the man's side and out of his direct scope. Bob, being a non-augmented man, must have trained pretty good and hard on his body, because Myles was able to hear the air whistle as his fist took up the section of space where the SPARTAN had been just a second prior. The man intended to connect the hit with another, a high kick, and Myles went right back to the offensive. He dropped down, using the bounce of his knees, to attempt to strike the man's now exposed middle core, and especially the leg muscle he had just used to make the kick with. Myles balled his fist and attempted a tight surgical jab towards the middle of Crazy Bob's center of gravity and then leaned forward into a ramming attack with his right shoulder. Caesar felt an immense surge of angry energy throughout the room and tried to scan the arena with his eyes to find the source of what had caused such a powerful outburst. Just as soon as he attempted to put the Epiphany-fueled ability to use, he felt all the Psionic energy in the place simply...freeze. It was as if someone had taken the moment out in time and frozen any ability to use the natural brain-induced force, leaving only the natural world around to linger and continue spectate the fight. A woman, garbed in what appeared to be a blue dress and silky blonde hair strolled down the walkway that lead to the seat next to Caesar and slipped past him, brushing on him gently. He could smell the perfume she wore, a lustful lavender aroma, and felt the force of her sexy thigh go past his. She sat down, almost immediately, and leaned over to his ear speaking in a small voice. "I see you waited long enough", her lipstick coated mouth let sway out of it. Caesar, more surprised and becoming flushed, looked at her in shock. "Aye, you're...Messiah?" It was more of an announcement rather than a question, and she simply laughed back, using her accents and enunciation to get his undivided attention. "That is correct, I am the Messiah. That is what you may call me." Her weight shifted from leaning over to him, to using the arm rest next to hers to align herself upright once more. "I do hope you have the proper amount this time. I'd hate to have to take all this sugar-coated miracle back with me." The younger man fumbled into his pocket, reaching for his wad of Benjamin Franklins. The woman shook her head, and sighed a little, closing her eyes. "No, no, no, love, we shall wait until the fight is over. No need in getting your's and just taking off. Would you do that to a lady?" Caesar let go of the bills and eyed at her intensely. He didn't want to piss her off and might as well watch the fights. He couldn't get a read on her anyway, so there would be no use in attempting anything, especially since he had felt the wave of anger just a few minutes before. "No, I mean, of course not, Miss Messia-" "No miss, just Messiah. It is very imperative you only call me Messiah." She corrected him before he could speak. |
|
PLEASE COME CHECK OUT THE CARD GAME EFFORT HERE ON NEO BABYLON!!! | |
|
|
|
| Psycho Werekitsune | Apr 19 2014, 05:11 PM Post #12 |
|
Part man...part beast...full psycho!
|
At the apex of Bob's kick was when Myles decided to counterattack; the space marine threw a punch directed straight for the terran marine's abdomen. Bob did his best to lean back with the punch to reduce the damage, bending his body backwards as contact was inevitably made. It felt like having a crate thrown at you, crushing the soft tissue covering the bone and then making impact with said bone. But pain was something he was used to, both, from his experience in the military, as well as during his escapades as a mercenary. Had he taken the full brunt of the attack, it would have shattered a few of his ribs, as opposed to the cracks he had probably received instead. He continued leaning back, arching his body and performing a backflip, landing back on his feet with a reverbing thud that echoed throughout the arena. The moment he was ready to get back into the swing of things, the SPARTAN came charging forward, shoulder first. It was high time Bob put his training to good use to get a better grip of the situation, so to speak. While his training in MCMAP was ideal in strengthening and disciplining his body, it was, as a martial art, incredibly flawed and was only useful in quick, short scenarios. This is precisely why he decided to take up Combat Sambo, as a means of making up for lost substance he was deprived of while serving in the military. Bob waited for the right moment and seized it; as Myles came rushing at him, he quickly stepped to the side, now facing the SPARTAN's free arm. Still using both, his own momentum, as well as his opponent's, he used one of his hands to knock up said free arm higher, so that he could slide under it and having it on his own shoulder. He then wrapped one of his own arms around Myles's neck and grabbing hold of his charging shoulder, and the other around the groin area, lifting the augmented soldier to the air for a few seconds before slamming him back down again. For those quick few moments he held Myles, it was very clear that his body was unnaturally heavy, bringing the analogy of the crate back to his mind. With the SPARTAN floored, he proceeded to pin one of his shoulders down with the force of his fist and used his free hand to try to land a few punches to his face. (Video for reference, it was the best I could find to describe the grab.) |
|
EMBRACE THE NAKED!
| |
|
|
|
| -Arem- | May 1 2014, 06:09 AM Post #13 |
|
Fabulous Homosexual
|
(That would be tonight. Apologies for the long delay. Fucking moving, I tell you, and I'm not even done yet! No guarantees yet if I get stable internet either after Saturday.) Viper heard the commotion of the gang getting up and brandishing their weapons of choice, but paid them absolutely no mind. Nothing they had could come close to hurting them. Even more interesting, if they even were able to shed blood, any spatter they got on their skin would hideously burn them. Homunculus blood of his variation was exceedingly toxic. Exposure to skin would leave severe acid burns. God help anyone unfortunate enough to get any of his blood in their eyes, nose or mouth. They were as good as dead. "Hey buddy, might want to put the kid down. I don't want no trouble; you let him go and skedaddle, and nobody gets hurt. Cops are already on their way, it'll take 'em less than 5 to get here." Viper peered over the shoulder of the kid on his grip to find he was looking down the barrel of a shotgun. "Cute," Viper thought. Aloud, he said with his eyes narrowing but glowing fiercely yellow, "Trust me, pops. That's going to hurt you more than it will hurt me. Curious?" [--HYPNOTOAD WAS HERE--] The commotion of the fight brought Travis' mind back to what was in front of him, just as the one called Bob slamming the other in the pavement. Travis eyed the soldier carefully; if he managed to get up from this, it should offer another clue into his own personal question about the soldier. Granted, he still wouldn't really know unless he up and asked the guy himself. As the fight continued, his mind drifted again to what he had just heard in his head. As he thought about what he "heard," the less it made sense. In fact, it sounded like he was picking up the stray thoughts of a schizophrenic. Again, he looked around the room, wondering where the voices came from. No one looked particularly crazy in the crowd, although that didn't mean much. (I know it isn't much, but it's all I can really do at the moment.) |
|
---
| |
|
|
|
| Psycho Werekitsune | May 3 2014, 12:03 AM Post #14 |
|
Part man...part beast...full psycho!
|
"I ain't kidding; silent alarm went off the second you grabbed the kid and I'm qualified to use this thing if I have to. Like I said, don't want no trouble. This place might not attract the most decent folk in town, but we don't harbour this sorta behaviour around here. Now, kindly put the kid down and take a hike. There's a door in the back that leads into the alley, you're free to use it if it makes you feel better." He met the mercenary's steely gaze with his own. Smithy make not look like much, but he was a veteran that had seen plenty of conflict on many a foreign soil and had the scars to prove it. His aim never faltered and his gun remained trained straight for Viper's head, confident that sights were clear enough to get a shot in without harming his victim. "Ain't gonna ask again." The spectating quartet continued observing the match, with one in particular focusing inhumanly on the fighters in the ring below. Adam's eyes flitted left and right, moving in tandem with the fighters as his brain processed every single movement, absorbing the information, storing it and cross referencing it with his databanks. It was at that moment that he discovered something rather interesting. "Lars? I've discovered something intriguing regarding one of the fighters. It appears I have observed him in combat before." Lars nodded, grunting his approval so as not to draw any attention by speaking out loud as he had no hood to hide his face. "The one called "The Spartan", he was a contender in the previous Grand Celestial. He went by the name "Myles Sabre". My memory shows he was a tactical fighter with what appeared to be an extensive military background. He also appeared to be in possession of unknown technology, most notably a suit of very resilient power armour." Lars perked up at the mention of the armour, a point of interest he had invested quite a lot of time and research into, personally. He observed the fight below with keener interest now, noting that it was entirely possible that the smaller of the two men below was the man in the armour from the previous year's tournament. He slowly rose to his feet, heading outside the venue. "Keep a close eye on him." This was directed at Adam and, as he exited the venue he sent another message to the two bodyguards. "Make sure you don't lose sight of him. Shadow him if he leaves the venue." He quickly unpocketed his cellphone and dialled the number of his employer. After a few rings, the other end of the line clicked. "Sir? I found "The Knight"." |
|
EMBRACE THE NAKED!
| |
|
|
|
| Arcana Fang | May 8 2014, 06:21 AM Post #15 |
|
Bullshit Patrol
|
((GAMEMASTER ROLLS A D20 ===[/ROLLD20/}{/ROLL=12})) ((CHARACTER=MYLES//===[/ROLLD20/}{/ROLL=7})) ((CHARACTER=BOB//===[/ROLLD20/}{/ROLL=5})) ((CHARACTER=TRAVIS//===[/ROLLD20/}{/ROLL=19})) ((CHARACTER=???//===[/ROLLD20/}{/ROLL=20})) Myles ended up looking at the giant of a man, who now had him pinned to the floor of the mat, raining his fists upon his face. Had he gotten so rusty that his grappling skills were suffering? Maybe. But he also needed to give these people a show. Even if that show came from the result of him loosing some vitality from having this Goliath slam into his face... --- Seven young men sat up in their seats, making sure their frontal view was on the side closest to the ring. All of the young men were wearing what had been equivalent to leather coats, and pulled out what appeared to be plastic-cased weapons. Travis would be able to detect their hostile intent through his powerful psychological power, while the melee fighters wouldn't see anything coming. --- The woman who called herself Messiah had a flash in her eyes, that was just barely detectable to Caesar. It was as if someone had blown a puff of air into her eyes, and quickly startled her. He still couldn't feel anything from his Psionic field of control, and he wasn't sure what she had detected. "It appears that things are about to become complicated. Give me what you have and I'll give you half." she whispered. "HALF?! But-" "I'll give you nothing with an attitude like that..." Caesar cursed aloud. He was at the disadvantage here, and he knew it. He could have used his piece to straighten her out, but this was the big wig, and he feared what someone with the ability to sell a drug of Epiphany's magnitude could do on their own. "F-f-fine..." Caesar flipped out the wad of bills to her, and she passed him back what appeared to be a palm full of tablets, totaling 6 in number. "That's a good boy," she purred, "Now if you'll excuse me...I'll be in touch." The woman seemed to freeze everything in her wake, as if time was somehow slowed down and all the muscles of Caesar didn't want to move in her dash past him, and made her way to the door. She exited and when out of eyeshot, Caesar caught himself catching his breath, and felt the air of Psionic energy come back to him. He decided it was time to pop one of the babies, and lifted one of the pills to his mouth, and swallowed it whole. --- The young men stood up in unison, three holding uzi-styled machine guns while the other four holstered pistols. The ones with the machine guns fired up into the glass boxes while two focused on firing into the crowds and two others fired pistol rounds into the melee taking place at center stage of the arena. Myles attempted to kick Bob with the brunt of his knee and move the massive man away from his head. He might even hit the injured torso of Crazy Bob... If Myles' attack landed true, it would knock Bob out of the way of a bullet aimed to go through the man's upper body and shoulder while Myles would already be rolling away to get back up. The gunshots would litter the area of the middle of the ring. ((ooc: The post has been fixed Psycho The rolls reflect characters in the ring, and their certain reactions to the preemptive pulse of the attack. Rolls like this have a Difficulty Class [DC] that must be reached to have success. I will not reveal them, but based on certain rolls and their outcomes, you may be able to figure them out for yourself ;) )) Edited by Arcana Fang, May 9 2014, 02:12 AM.
|
|
PLEASE COME CHECK OUT THE CARD GAME EFFORT HERE ON NEO BABYLON!!! | |
|
|
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
 Join the millions that use us for their forum communities. Create your own forum today. |
|
| Go to Next Page | |
| « Previous Topic · The Nexus · Next Topic » |
- Pages:
- 1
- 2
| Track Topic · E-mail Topic |
 7:53 PM Jul 13
|