Newark (AKA Old Grimm)- CVnU Location

A city built on strong principles and buried under entropy. Newark has festered in it's own degradation more and more every year until it's general youth population began to actually aspire to break the murder rate record each year. Initiations into the local gangs cause random serial killings every few weeks, drugs are easier to get a hold of on a busy corner than milk in a corner store. Gun's you would think grew from the piping beneath the cracked streets they were so common place.

Newark is not entirely bad though, the ratio is just off. For every two good men there are five thugs. For every honest business there are three dishonest ones. Villains and Mafia bosses are said to retire and recruit here after failed attempts on enemy lives. Some to replenish ranks and others to relax in an area they know even the bravest of the bold think twice about walking into alone. Where a cop can easily be baught and if not, just as easily be replaced with someone with a price tag. Thanks to these welathy figures visiting regularly they've contributed millions in construction and development. For personal needs, but still progressive. Its starting to seem more like regentrification as the poor and desperate are forced out of Old Grimm, but it could just be mass paranoia.

Welcome to Newark, the worst/best city in the country and home base to Animus corpotation.

R.I.P.

Welcome back Thomas Newcastle

Rules:

Don't destroy sh!t without permission from Surkit

Memories *sheds tear

No tears in Newark gtfo

@doc_dread: thanks for pushing the manifesto

http://www.comicvine.com/forums/rpg-9/new-jersey-discussion-thread-1480105/

@doc_dread: Memories can bring back emotions o.O

*Cautiously walks away from the dreadful dude...........

@closure: Go to detroit instead where you can shed as many tears as you like

I

In the beginning I sat in a pit waiting for someone to come rescue me, Now I sit in a cave waiting to rescue. Life's a cruel game of hindsight. Since my visit into the Australian New God territory the information I've picked up has been invaluable. My Grandfather has been finding new ways to reshape it to our benefit that I admit, for a man over seven hundred to accomplish, is impressive.

@maximus_newcastle: Slipping past the guards was no problem, she only had to make herself appear, as the physican in charge of this wing; and the rest was cake. In the back of her mind, she had to wonder what type of value this man was to Samantha, if he was in an Asylum. "What kind of place is this?" she thought, still looking around for her target. Moving to the security room; she wanted to see if she could match the picture with the victim in the cell.

Padded white walls recoil at the bounce of Bishops' body. The jacket was so tight he couldn't even wiggle more than two fingers on each hand. Every time he fell he felt like a fool trying to stand up by crawling up the wall with his back.Thud, thud, thud. The doctor in the hall watches through the thin slit of the steel door like a child looking into a fish tank. Thud, thud, THUD. The hero can feel his arms flaring now, finally. Her eyes masked with makeup look like two dirty ashtrays, widening as she notices the strap on his arm tightening

Wait. What is this? lmao

Is he in an asylum? Should I still throw down my post regardless?

@the_mercenary: Nah she confused characters, Surkit's in an asylum

Huh? So where the heck am I? lol

@shanana: Surkit's in the asylum not Max

Ok, posting now

@surkit: The Malagan beauty stalked the halls in scrubs; her whole image was a intricate visual projection by her mask, used in a way only she knew. The machinations of her deceptions; were foreign to those who didn't know they were being tricked. Looking at the registrar list; her target was listed in the maximum security section. Her eye's scanned the hallways, she wondered if this place was being used to house the insane, or create them. Each direction looked exactly the same; she bumped into a nurse subtly taking her card key in the process.

Using the placard directions as a guide, she came to Bishop's room. There was already a nurse inside, "Adios mio" she grunted, banging on the door, she watched as the nurse came back to the door. Before the woman could mutter a syllable Z punched her in the face. "Are you Bishop?" She asked, with her eyebrow raised. "You are coming with me"

@maximus_newcastle:

Commissioner Gregory J. Thomasson practically fell through the front door of his apartment, taking heavy bedraggled steps towards his bedroom, completely worn out from over four days of non-stop police work. This city was disgusting, and he spent every single moment he could making an attempt at cleaning it up, but he was no superhuman. He required rest, just like any other 53 year old fellah in the world. He collapsed upon the edge of his bed, almost instantaneously asleep. His wife peered distastefully over her reading glasses and lowered her romance novel, slipping away from the soft covers of the queen-sized mattress and stepping over her dutiful husband's unconscious form, making a concerted effort at not touching him. She had never possessed any interest in Gregory. Her true love, mob boss Frankoni Delaney, had asked her to seduce the unknowing Commissioner and collect intel on the NPD. She'd been performing this duty for the apple of her pale blue eye for nearly five years now, and was more than jubilated at the prospect of reuniting with Frankoni.

Thomasson was terrible in bed, anyways.

She dimmed their sleeping quarters' lights and stepped out of the room, pulling the lapels of her coat closer around her shoulders to ward off the cold, making her way towards the open door. The assassin should be here soon, and as much as she loathed her 'husband', she had always feigned at the sight of blood and had heard rather nasty things about the hit-man. She reached for the door handle, preparing to exit the shoddy home and be bereft of it forever when her head rolled off of her shoulders and her decapitated form fell to the ground, lying half-in and half-out of the doorway, spewing blood from the remnants of her neck.

A soft, throaty chuckle in the darkness. The Mercenary stooped down and stared into the surprised eyes of the deceitful woman, her face a mask of shock. He was a little surprised himself, after all, his targets rarely ever saw him coming.

He stepped over her being and strolled towards the bedroom, whistling the chorus to Standing In The Rain by Billy Talent as he moved. He nudged the door open and took a swift step forward, evading a speeding bullet by millimetres. Across the room stood a very conscious Commissioner, a pistol grasped firmly within his hands. His face was a mask of fury, and the sparse amount of hair on his forehead almost quaked with the amount of pent-up anger he stored within his frame.

"I knew that bitch would send someone sooner or later. Frankoni finally decide he's collected enough information? Well I got some news for you, big blue and ugly." Gregory let off a series of shots, firing at the intruder's torso, as he'd been trained and had done his entire life. The assassin took the gunfire and dropped to his knees, reaching out a single palm, grasping pathetically at the air. "I've been feeding him bad eggs for years! Ha! Who's the fool now, you piece of sh-"

The Commissioner's rant was cut short, as were his legs, severed at the knees by a movement so fast it was practically invisible to the human eye. The Mercenary's palm was no longer empty, and within his hand sat the hilt of a gorgeous ebony katana, it's blade gleaming with crimson liquid. Before Gregory could react to the unfortunate, sudden turn of events, his mouth was filled with the cold steel of the weapon and his vision dissipated into nothingness, Death claiming him instantaneously.

"Well, fck. Even the cops in this town are crazy."

The Mercenary laughed raucously at his comment, entirely aware, and rather amused at his own insanity.

@the_mercenary: (That was a great story man)

"The information you asked for." Gregory drops the usb flash drive and the tall deathly figure catches it with calm accuracy.

"You realize they have moles in every precinct now, especially yours Commisioner. It's only a matter of time before-"

"I spent thirty years playing it safe, and in that time I got a promotion every five years and the city got a demotion. I'm old and getting older... I'll take my chances kid" He says spitting a thick milky cake of saliva onto a brick alley wall before shoving his cigar into it. "Besides, that c*nt Delaney set me up with isn't too bad of a severance pay huh?" His old worn face smiles with unused muscles shaking, "See you soon."

Maximus Newcastle, a man who has a problem with planning every angle and trying to make a strategy for every possible outcome. In that mentality he has grown a mindset bordering on a sixth sense based on probabilities. The commissioner had been a big help as far as procuring information on the local syndications; The facts of which made him the mob's greatest threat since hoover.

Rough black hands squirt water from beneath the palms, rain falling in dollops onto the iron air as Max watches in a deep black hoodie adjacent to Commissioner Gregory's apartment, gripping the steel scaffold with one centered hand as his mask is pressed to reveal night vision thermals.

By the time he'd seen the woman fall and the tip of a masked head Max had already sailed across the buildings, diving headlong into the window and pulling two pistols from his thighs as dual katar release from his forearms aimed at the insane masked criminal. The damage was already done.

"How much did they pay you." He thumbs back the hammers, body so still it could be confused for a wax figure by an onlooker

"You have got to be fcking kidding me." Ziccarra Liafador, ninjan queen and killer of half the world population. Her hair was different, even some of her features; But that seductive yet professional poise was as iconic as it was unforgettable. "Why would I come with you?"

O_o Is this a CVP interaction ? My Trinity Z isn't a Ninjan lol

@y_intercept: This is why you shoulda read infinite inferno lol He's Prime Surkit, he doesn't know he's not in prime

O_o I missed all of that. Ok

You're killin me haha

@shanana: He sucks on a back molar witha skeptical glare. "My hero. Cut me loose then so we can get out of here."

@surkit: "Attitude..." Z said, rolling her eyes. It was bad enough she had to come back to America, but to rescue a committed patient was another. Crafting a small blade with her psi-energy; she cut his restraint loose. From not to far off she could hear the rapid stomping of guards. "Here take my hand..." she said, extending it outwards; taking his in hand. Z slowly began to vibrate, which rippled through Surkit as well. "This will not hurt to much" she said, pushing through the wall, navigating with him back towards the entrance.

"What were you in here for if you do not mind me asking"

@maximus_newcastle: (LMFAO I've noticed I always do these little backstories as a precursor to my location posts. I'm not too bad at them! lmao thanks man)

This newcomer was fast. Fast enough to fly through the window and reorientate himself within the same moment, two projectiles piercing the air before the Mercenary and threatening to impale his muscle-garbed figure. Utilizing a set of reflexes so sharp they could slice through adamantium, the Lord of Life allowed his katana to dance in his defence, swatting both katar out of the space between the two figures before they could harm the Son of Death. The evaded his frame by nano-metres, embedding themselves within the walls behind the large, physically imposing figure of the Mercenary.

And then quiet. Silence as both entities observed each other, predators sizing up their prey. The King of Kill couldn't help but chuckle lightly at the situation. He'd known. He'd known! Newark was never boring, and his gut instinct had proved fruitful once more.

Tonight was going to be fun.

"Uh, I think there were like, five zeroes on the cheque. Pretty cheap, but then again, it wasn't like I was taking out the President of Antartica or something."

He twirled his blade nonchalantly within a single palm, tilting his head slightly to one side and considering the newcomer.

"You look pretty serious. Are you angry? Was this geezer a friend of yours?"

The Mercenary bent over double, cackling helplessly. Retaining his composure somewhat, he wiped imaginary tears from his single crimson eye, not yet complete with his incessant banter.

"Let's get the introductions done here. You can't take me out without telling me your name first! I'm called the Mercenary."

He reached out with his free hand in a mock gesture at a handshake, giggling as he performed the action.

"And yes, yes, I know it's "original" but I didn't pick the name."

"Being sane in an insane world if I had to guess." He says dusting off his shoulders, "I don't get it...You got reconstructive surgery, but your boobs are sagging lower than ever. What's that about? And when did you...nevermind. Do you have a ride waiting?" Suddenly a red wall mounted lightbulb begins to flare with the sound of a fire alarm

@surkit: "Is this how you usually speak to a woman" Z said, stopping at the sound of the alarm, it pierced her ears causing her to temporary get disoriented. "Yes I have a ride outside, we will have to make a hot take out" she said, actually referring to a jet. The asylum guards trapped them from both sides. "I-I-Will take these guys" she said, still struggling to regain her composure. "My jet is hovering right above this building..."

"Good luck" He said, running through the door beside them into the stairwell. The shake in her voice and her old appearance, it made him question whether he was doing what was right, however justifiable leaving her behind would bed after she took his arm.

Breaking through the door he looks at the hovering jet, grabbing the ramp handle with a forward thrust, before stopping like a magnetic had been turned on. His eyes jump rapidly, "Damn..." Terrorist or not, he owed her. Maybe she was trying to turn herself around, maybe he was only taking away whatever faith she had that people would accept her change back to the good side. Regardless, she saved him.

Turning around he looks at the edge of the building, taking a deep a breath and three short exhales. pat pat pat, as his rubber soles flap onto the grainy rooftop, jumping off.

@the_mercenary: Bout to get one out later tonight.

@surkit: sooooo you left me?

@shanana: I'm not gonna sugar coat, I'm gettin tired of having to explain my posts. Just wing it if your not sure. I left you but now I'm coming back

(The didn't shoot dawg, just popped out of his wrists if he ran out of rounds :P I'll roll)

"I liked him, good man. In the end at least." gripping twice in quick succession Max activates the gauntlets of his gloves, the two thick katar blades reversing and magnetically drawing back into their holsters, a click signalling they were in locked position. Standing for an even ground Max keeps his guns trained. "Mercenary. IS that supposed to be poetic or just unimaginative? Call me Rook." Walking over towards the knee high detective Max looks down and shows a glint of empathy in his eyes for a half moment. "The man you killed was a willing informant for me, with a high rank in the police department. You say they payed you in five figures...?"Spinning the guns backwards he drops them into their thigh holsters on either side of him "I'll make it six. Steadily."

LMAO I know you left me, I was saying it sarcastically. Should've used my Zoe gif.

When in doubt pull Zoe out.

@maximus_newcastle:

He wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. The sudden gun-toting hero on the scene... Wasn't? The Mercenary was disappointed. His shoulders slumped and he sighed exasperatedly. He opted to respond to the Rook's offer, it wasn't as if he had anything better to do currently.

"What do you mean, you'll make it six. Who do you need dead?"

@the_mercenary: Sighing Max looks down at the dead body and steps over it, grabbing an apple out of a fruit bowl. "I'm not so much upset as I am dissapointed. Now I need to reinvent my strategy on the fly." Pacing he pulls up his mask, taking a bite with a crunch, "I see an opportunity for a partnership between us. If you can get Delaney to keep you around for a while longer, I'll pay you an upfront, unmarked one million in cash at the end of the partnership. The only thing I need is information."

(Takin it down. peace)

@maximus_newcastle:

The Mercenary cackled at the preposition, holding his stomach with both hands as if it were going to burst. Recomposing himself and once more enacting a tear wipe, he made his way towards the shattered window, kicking out the last few shards of broken glass and peering over the pane and at the filthy city below. He spoke without facing Rook, his tone amused.

"What the fck kind of hero are you? Nah. That's not how I work, fellah. The Mercenary isn't anybody's errand boy. All I do is hits."

@the_mercenary: He takes a bite of his apple and walks closer to the window, "You don't call killing a man for another man an errand? " Chewing nonchalantly with his mouth open , his head tilts towards the ground to get an angle on Mercenary, "Hero, bad guy, it's all relative. You" A finger points to Mercenary's stomach, "You have a problem that money can't solve, otherwise it would have. "

@maximus_newcastle: (Haven't ever actually explored Merc's intentions with anyone, good looking out brother)

So the Rook wasn't a fool. Merc picked up a jagged shard of glass and stared at it listlessly for a moment before he responded to the hooded man's words.

"I call killing a man for another man a pleasure. Where's the fun in gathering intel? Might as well give me a desk and a computer and ask me to be an accountant or some banal shit like that."

He gave a single maniac giggle, his entire body convulsing with the movement but barely for half a second. Without taking his single crimson eye off of the glass he ran his palm down it, cutting a slow, deep gash in his flesh and revealing the bones of his hand. His eye flickered to Rook's face and he flexed his fingers a few times. Within less than a few seconds the wound was entirely healed, leaving nothing but a hideous scar in it's wake, one that overlapped hundreds of others upon the Mercenary's being.

"Money is irrelevant. See, I need money to buy things, like, equipment. I'm no thief."

A smirk broke out across his face beneath his mask at the irony of his statement.

"I've never taken a job with less than 4 zeroes. Money is a measure. Nobody's going to pay me 1K to kill their cat, now are they? Nahhh. But a president? A gang-head? A pesky meta-human? It's important. It's meaningful. It's thrilling."

He glanced at the Commissioner's mutilated body strewn in bits and pieces across the floor, his life force practically flooding the carpet.

"And 'sides. Red's my favourite colour."

@the_mercenary: That's hilarious man, I was gonna do the exact same thing with the glass, almost word for word, but stopped myself after I read your bio. Thought he'd find it valuable.

I'll have one up soon

@surkit: LMMFAO! That's uncanny! Max got healing stuff too?

@surkit: Falling to her knee's, the Malgan Marquesta couldn't muster the strength to push through the sirens; her severely sensitive ears. The asylum guards began to tread towards her, her vision was heavily blurred; she knew enough to know they were not her friends. Extending her hands outwards, she pushed them back with a TK push. "I cannot believe....he...left...me" she grunted, rising to one knee; surveying the area for a new way out.

Pushing her hands upward, she disabled the sirens; which reestablished her equilibrium. Keeping herself upright, against the wall; she did a horrible dodge roll to evade fire. "Fck"

"You are a thief, you just steal something that can't be taken back."

Max glazes over for a moment staring into space in the back of the bed spread as if he had all the time in the world before looking back at the Mercenary and taking a bite of the apple as his hand heals. "That's fuckin nasty. You see me eating."

"Well" tossing the apple in a trash can and clapping his calloused gloved hands together three times Max walks towards the front door. "If you want to find me again just kill somebody in Newark who deserves it. "

yessir

Kraka-thoom

As his body hits the ground the ripple of power is instantaneous, the soft of his flesh tightening at the cellular level using the kinetic energy to protect itself, the ripples of his muscle whipping backwards until they encased his body, left behind a skin hard as steel. Inside the guards hear the sound and with impressive tactical motive for an asylum unit, take points aiming at all entry points as two at each end of thew halls fire on the intruder as she rolls away

Tum tum tum...Tum Tum...TUMTUMTUMTUM

The barrels of their guns begins to hop annoyingly to pop the guards in the eyes or nose at random from the tremors. they were overtaken by confusion, "What the hell is that sir?" As rifles begin to lower on both sides to get a better ear for the sound "I have no idea... Maintain--" a wall comes down beside group A positioned at the wing the two escapees ran from, Everyone in trhe squad slammed into a sandwhich of bodies to crash through the adjacent wall, sunlight squeezing through the hole from the courtyard. "Move in move i--" From the wall opposite the first and 20 feet down Bishop slams through again with the same attack. Two piles of black clad tactical geared bodies lay across either side of the building in a pileup, twisted arms and legs.

"Ziccarra? I'm not coming to get you. Let's go."

@maximus_newcastle:

The Mercenary chuckled one final time, recognizing Rook's preparation to exit.

"I'll keep in touch. Who knows, maybe some day you and I'll have some fun."

He hopped onto the window pane, entire body hunched over for a minute moment before he allowed it to fall forward, sailing into the city below.

@the_mercenary: I dig your writing style.

Lookin at my own I realize how much rust I need to shake lol

Fist pumps