The Furry Forums
Creative Arts and Media => Roleplay => Serious RP => Topic started by: NautilusWolf on March 16, 2014, 04:08:40 AM
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It was 7 am at Roosevelt high in a rather decent size town of Pennsylvania. It was the first period of the school day, history.
Haden J. Murphy sat at his desk watching his teacher giving a lecture.
"Okay, class, due to the reunification of the U.S.S.R., we are going to watch the classic film, Red Dawn. This is to show the potential..." Haden's attention wandered to the pad of paper on his desk, with a crude drawing of his teacher drawn hastily.
"Mr. Murphy, am I boring you?"
Haden's attention snapped upward towards his teacher.
"No sir, I was just writing some notes."
His teacher had given a slight nod and continued. After an eternity of rambling, his teacher put on the movie. As the film had reached the invasion of the U.S., he heard a plane. He turned to his classmate and asked why it sounded like it was coming from somewhere else. The student replied that it was merely the acoustics of the room. He looked around to his three friends he had made over the course of the school year, noticing each of their concern, for they had all come to the same suspicion.
Haden gets up from his seat to look outside.
"Mr. Murphy, take a seat."
Haden looked to the sky, completely disregarding his teacher's command and shouts, "Everyone! Get out now! It's a REAL Invasion!"
The students get up and go to look out the window in disbelief of Haden's warning, except for the 3 friends. The group of four met in the hallway as he continued to motion them to the parking lot. The small group of three had dashed through crowded hallways, ramming down anyone in the way of them and the parking lot. After bursting out of the rear entrance of the school they meet up to a grey, 1990's ford pickup.
"Get in the truck!" He says unlocking the car doors. The group gets into the truck and drive away.
As he drives, Haden can see from his rear view mirror, some classmates he vaguely knew, and his teacher being lined up by Russian and Korean troops. The officer in charge raises his hand, and then drops it. As he drops his hand, the class is executed with automatic hip-fire.
"We gotta get to my parents' gun shop, then lay low. Any suggestions?" He says with a stone cold expression.
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"I s-s-s-say we should hide and wait for law enforcement to a-a-a-arrive" Igner says while hiding and matching the color of the desk, terrified.
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Haden looks at Igner and then back to the road.
"We can't hide. We definitely can't wait on the cops. If the U.S. Military couldn't keep the invasion at bay, then we can't rely on local law enforcement." Haden says sternly. He notices that everyone's a little shaken up. They all were. No matter how adaptive Haden was, he was just as scared and worried as the rest of them.
"My parents' shop is a few blocks ahead. We can gather weapons and basic supplies. Anyone up for a fight?" Haden said with a slight smirk.
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Jason shook his head. "Are you nuts? We can't take on a full scale Red invasion with just us. I agree we should go get some basic supplies and weapons, but then we need to get out of Dodge. My uncle owns a small cabin in the forested outskirts of town. If we hurry we may be able to get there and lay low before they lock us down."
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Haden continues driving to his parents gun store, evading as many of the Neo-Soviets as he could. After ten minutes of driving, they arrive at the store. Haden, holding his hand up to signal his parents, is met by his father and mother. His father was an older looking wolf with a Remington 870 in his hands, and his mother, a slightly younger fox, holding a Smith and Wesson .38 special.
"Mom! Dad!" Haden called.
" son, there isn't much time, you need to-!"
"I know dad, we need the guns, we're heading to a cabin to lay low. You should come with us."
His father looked downward with a heavy heart.
"Everyone, get in. You don't much time." The small group except Haden go into the shop to grab what they can. "
Haden, we can't come."
Haden, shocked by his father's reaction, tries to beg him.
"But dad, you-"
His mother grabs him by the collar of his shirt.
"Damnit son! Just go!"
This made Haden uneasy.
"We will defend this shop until the bitter end." His father said.
Haden nods and meets everyone inside the shop.
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Jason hops out of the truck and walks into the shop, his boots stomping against the hard floors. He looks around and whistles before heading over to Haden. "We're going to need food and weapons, food being more important. I'm sure the cabin has some supplies but any little bit you could scavange from around here would do us good." He says, grabbing a deffle bag from behind the counter and loading it full of ammunition, mostly 5.56x45mm NATO rounds, as most modern combat rifles fire them, along with some shotgun rounds and 9mm handgun ammo. He stuffs an unloaded M9 Baretta into his pocket and slings a M16A4 over his shoulder. "Come on people, grab a primary and a side arm and lets move!"
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Haden looks over to the others and says, "you heard him! Let's go! Move people!"
Haden goes to the rifle rack and grabs an MK14 EBR MOD0-0, a duffle bag full of 7.62x51mm NATO, then runs to the counter and grabs an M1911, and all .45 acp he could carry.
"I'm good! I'll be waiting in the truck!"
Haden jogs out of the store when a hand caught his shoulder.
"Haden... Take this."
His father handed him an old medal.
"This was the medal signifying a submariner. This was mine in my service."
Haden was speechless. His dad was never the 'family heirloom' kind of person. Haden stared at the medal, but soon snapped back to reality.
"You must be brave son. For your mother and I."
Haden nodded and then got into his truck with the keys in the ignition, waiting for everyone else.
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Spike was rushing around Haden's store, he'd never met his parents but he remembered running away from them the one time they threw a party at Haden's house. It seemed odd to him they were hooking them up with guns.
The coyote looked desperately throughout the counters for something he'd been familiar with. He picked up a Kel-Tec Sub 2000. He knew this gun from when he and his friend had gone shooting. It was his uncle's pistol caliber carbine and had a cool feature to fold in half to carry around in the woods. The coyote unfolded the gun out of the box and found it a sling to swing over his shoulder. He turned around and picked up a nickel-plated Beretta M9, shoving it into his belt. He went around the corner and dumped his back pack full textbooks, picked up a ruck sack and started to pack the bag with 9mm ammunition boxes, a tactical grip laser, speed loaders, extra magazines, a tactical flash light, and as many batteries as he could carry.
He hurried back outside and threw his things into the back of Haden's truck excluding his weapon and jumped in the back. Once inside and while waiting for the others, he quickly opened his bag of ammo and began to load his magazines as quickly as he could. The whole time he couldn't even call his family. His phone was dropped in a toilet at his last house party. The only thing keeping him going was to survive to find them later.
"Where is everyone!? We need to move!" Spike yelled, his attention turned toward the sky. Paratroopers were falling down like rain during a storm, appearing as specks from the cavalry of planes that soared thousands of feet overhead.
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Jason quickly strode from the store, climbing into the back of the truck. He grabbed a 5.56 clip from the duffle bag and loaded his rifle, checking to make sure the safety was on. He banged on the back cab window and shouted "We need to hurry up, It won't take the Reds long to set up a blockade wround the city!"
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Igner was handed a 9mm pistol which he held delicately. "uhh... t-t-thanks..." Igner said as he sat in the truck bed still in slight shock. His body had beed on autopilot as his brain was scared stiff.
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As Haden poured gas, he turned to Igner.
"Never held a firearm?" He asked.
Once Haden finished pouring gas, he walked over to Igner, pointing to each thing as he explained.
This is the front sight, this is the rear sight. Your magazine release is right here, and don't shoot unless you intend to kill a commie."
Haden then walked away and got in the driver's seat.
"Where to? Left or right path?"
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Viktoriya wasnt at school the morning of the invasion nor anywhere in the city, she and her dad had been on a hunting trip over the weekend and things got complicated meaning they couldnt leave when they wanted to. They were heading back to the city when the air filled with the dull drone of planes flying high overhead the sky filling with paratroopers jumping from them. Her dad ordered her to get out of the car and head into the forest with him, unfortunately for them a detachment of paratroopers mis judged thier jump and landed close to them, they had no other option than to fight.
In the brief firefight her dad got seriously injured, Picking him up and attempting to carry him back to thier car that was just on the border of the forest and the city, she was sure she had seen a cabin close by but couldnt remember where exactly. Her dad was bleeding out fast and she could feel it, he groaned out. "Just put me down and get out of here." He coughed a little but Viktoriya didnt listen to him, after what felt like hour her dad passed away on her back. The reality was that it was only a few minutes. Viktoriya stood next to the road silently as she slowly lowered her dad to the ground a few feet away from their car tears filling her eyes as she walked and pulled out one of the shovels. She didnt care what the invaders were doing or where they might be, she was going to give her dad a proper grave...even if it was next to the road.
She dug and dug her black tank top, short black denim skirt and black combat boots stained with mud and blood-her dads aswell as some of her own as during the fight a bullet had grazed her arm- in the distance she could hear a truck approaching picking her dad's corpse up before lowering him into the ground and rather quickly covering him up she ran to the car and grabbed the first aid kit, her dads hunting rifle, all the ammunition it had and her own weapon, a composite longbow custom made for her. Slinging the bags over her shoulders she took up position using the car as cover. She could be visible to anybody in the vehicle but it would provide cover from gunfire if the truck proved to be a Russian vehicle.
(OOC- Let me know if that is fine for an intro or if I should change something)
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Haden sees a figure out of the corner of his eye and opens the rear window to speak to the group.
"Everyone! Get down! Possible hostile on the ridge," he says pointing up the hill to a car with a small glint from the scope.
"I'm gonna break the ice. See if they're friendly."
Haden gets out of the truck and faces the car, with his hand on his 1911 on a dropleg holster. He starts walking up to the hill, hand on the weapon.
"Are you friendly?"
He stopped and disengaged the retention of the holster, ready to draw if it were a Soviet.
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Viktoriya stayed her ground gaze fixed through the scope as she say a familiar face step out of the truck. Taking a deep breath of relief she lowered the rifle and put it on safety letting the hang by its strap around her shoulder. Stepping out from behind the car she smirked and ran a hand though her black hair, the violet streaks clearly visible as s he walked closer to the truck. "Only if you promise not to point that at me." She joked clearly more relaxed and wondering if the senior would recognize her.
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Haden saw the figure put the rifle away, and step into a recognizable view.
"We're clear," Haden said as he waved to the group to signal she was friendly.
"Wait, Viktoriya? From school? It's good to see you."
Haden waved her down to join the group. Noticing the wound, he had to ask.
"You need help with that?"
Haden knew Viktoriya through the grapevine. Mostly to her reputations, but Haden knew they were lies. Haden was pretty good at distinguishing fact from opinion.
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Viktoriya grabbed a few more things from the car stuffing them into several backs now slung all over her body. Clearly she was quite a bit stronger than her physical size would show, a steady stream of crimson flowing down the grey and black scales of her left arm -the scales ripped off and part of her skin but from where the round had grazed it, just between her shoulder and bicep . "I am fine. " She said rather coldly as she walked past Haden "It was my own fault and I will patch it up you just drive."
Throwing her gear into the back of the truck,and jumping in while barely looking at the others, she pulled out a rather extensive medical kit. Pouring some pure alcohol onto a white cloth she pressed it down agaisnt the wound, biting her lips and letting out a yelp of pain as it stung-the alcohol killing any bacteria but burning like a hot coal. Not even knowing if anybody was watching her actions she pulled out a needle and some strong string/gut, tying a knot in the end and slowly stitching the wound up herself. "Son of a....mother duck!!" she growled in pain her face contorting a little. Finally finishing up by wrapping another alcohol soaked bandage around it and tightening it. It might have looked a little odd to anybody watching but her dad had trained her like that, when your hunting sometimes you need to know how to patch yourself up right. Her eyes clearing up a little as she started to look at the others in the back of the truck. Thin slit pupils and cold ice blue eyes glancing over them all silently judging their reactions.
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Haden starts the truck and drives off. He looks to viktoriya.
"If you don't mind me asking, where's your folks?"
He said in a way that seemed as if he were too scared to know the answer.
"I left mine. They chose to fight. They wouldn't even come with us..."
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Looking down at her hands for a while not even making the slightest of sounds before she looked at the road as it passed quickly behind them. Her voice becoming chillingly distant and cold almost devoid of emotion. "Never knew my mum... And my dad died we just passed his grave." Pointing to the upturned dirt from the hole she had dug and placed his body in as they passed by it. "Judging by the amount of troops dropped in, I would say that anybody that offers resistance in the city will be killed."
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Haden looked downward. He knew she was right. His parents are dead. All that remains is his dad's submariner medal.
"I'm gonna kill 'em all," he said in anger. He never felt a hatred like this. It was almost toxic, controlling his every thought as he wanted to get revenge. The truck pulled up to the cabin and Haden parked the truck.
"Everyone out," he said distantly. He pulled out his dad's submariner medal, and stared at it.
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"Hey... if this is anything like Red dawn, they might of taken people to camps? So, maybe not everyone's... " He said as he was blending a little with the truck.
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Haden looks at Igner, anger boiling over. He gets out of the truck, slams the door, and starts kicking the door.
"You had to stay! You couldn't F-ing come with us! You stupid old bastards!"
He stops when his truck door is caved in. He goes to the glove box back inside the truck and gets a bottle of Irish whiskey that his father gave him as a early graduation present.
"I'll be here," he said with teeth gritted. He sat down on the steps of the cabin and opened the whiskey, taking a big sip. They're dead alright... Anyone who opposed the Neo-Soviets wouldn't last long.
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Jason hopped down from the back of the truck and pulled the bag full of ammunition fom the back, slinging over his shoulder and carrying his M16 by the handle, he walked up the stairs. He looked down at Haden with a look that might of been pity, or might have been disgust.
He then aproached the dor and tried the handle, finding it locked.
"Damn.." he swore under his breath before setting down what he was carrying and searching for a key. He checked under the mat, inside a potted plant, and even in a small vase but found nothing.
Jason sighed and spoke up to the group, "Does anybody know how to pick a lock or do I need to break in?"
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Haden closes the bottle and goes to the door, takes aim with his Mk 14 EBR and shoots the lock. The then proceeds to kick the door open.
"It's open now."
He gets in and sits in a corner, alternating from drinking and carving "kill 'em all" into his Mk14 EBR.
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Jason stood, soaking in the situation before he strode over to where Haden was seated and grabbed him by the shirt collar, yanking him to standing and knocking the rifle and his bottle out of his hand. He kept a firm grip on his collar and held him against a wall, getting right in his face. "I know exactly what your **censor** problem is. You lost somebody. Get over it cupcake, we all lost people today. If you think that being angry and sitting in a corner, drinking is going to solve anything then you might as well have died with your parents, because the fact is that your folks died so that you might have a chance to live. Do you think this piece of shit cabin is going to stop the Reds? Because it isn't. We need to get our shit togeather, get aware with our surroundings, and begin planning on how we might just survive this." He lets go of him and steps back "So toughen up, boy. You're a soldier now."
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Haden grabbed his wrist and spoke.
"I didn't just lose someone... I gained a hatred for them. I hated my parents so much because they never cared about me, until today. I lost myself. I remember what I said to them that morning. I told them to die and rot. And now that they are, I realized how much of a monster I really am. That's why I'm gonna kill those -censor- soviets. I can't live with myself like this, unless i kill those sumbi**es. It ain't about feeling sorry, it's about hatred... It's about redemption."
Haden grabs his gun.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be on the roof providing over watch."
Haden walks off to the upstairs, pinning the submariners' pin to his sleeve. He climbs out the window and lays on the roof with his weapon in position.
"I want those soviet a$$holes to just come here and TRY to take me. I'll put a bullet in each of their skulls," he said looking through the weapon's scope.
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"Man, theres a lot of anger going on... I miss dad and mom..." He slumps down sitting on the couch. "We lost every one..." He whisper to himself.
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Viktoriya simply watched everybody as they went about grieving and the entire range of emotions that would come with that, yet she seemed almost unphased by it all, she had learned a long time ago to lock away her emotions to become cold and not anybody or anything get to her. Standing up out of the truck she walked into the cabin and threw her backs down picking up her bow and arrows, inspecting them for any damage. For the first time ever people would start to clearly notice her accent, it was always there but with tensions and angers high that distinct Russian pronunciation of words became just that more obvious. "You all behave like little kids...If you want to live you will need to learn to deal with pain. There is alot more coming."
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Jason set out to inspecting the damage done on the door and swore, seeing the knob beyond repair, and the door now unable to shut, much less lock. He began looking around the cabin for a spare doorknob and some wood to be used in repairing the frame where it was kicked in.
Upon hearing Viktorya, Jason scoffed. "Tell me about it, sister."
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The coyote awoke with a start in the back of the truck. He'd dozed off sometime during the long road trip. He quickly looked around as he noticed the truck was no longer moving, nor was it full of his school mates. He picked up his carbine, slung his bag over the opposite shoulder and stood up from the truck bed. He looked at the small cabin ahead and sighed, glad that they atleast arrived in one piece.
He glanced around at the surrounding trees, quickly making note of the best spots to snipe from in case of an emergency. He spotted a tall pine that was coated thick with needles and easy to climb, distant enough from rear of the cabin. At the same time, he saw Haden appear on the roof with his rifle, setting up his position. He pointed his finger like a gun and made the noise "pew" in his direction. He chuckled and shook his head. Spike hopped down from the truck and started toward the cabin. "You know, if I can see you, chances are the Russians can too." He shouted up to the roof at Haden. "Pick a tree, you'll get better cover and a better line of sight..." He put his hands up. "Just my thoughts." He suggested before continuing up to the cabin's front door.
Upon seeing the damage done to the door frame, he stared momentarily before swinging it open on it's loose hinges, hoping all the good sleeping arrangements hadn't yet been claimed. He walked inside and tossed his bag down onto a couch in the living room. He kept his carbine slung on his shoulder. Digging through his bag, he found his cigarettes and lighter. Without addressing anyone else, he sighed and walked back out front to the small porch. Spike brushed the leaves off an old wooden chair and sat, leaning his gun against the wall. He lit up his cigarette and exhaled, leaning back in the chair. "Hows everything look up there?" Spike called up to Haden on the roof.
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Grabbing her back she looked at the room before heading into the cabins bathroom, she was at the limit she could suppres her own emotions. She closed the door behind her as tears started to fall down her face, collapsing down onto her knees she hung her head low as she kept crying. The realization that her shirt was still soaked in her dads blood made her skin crawl for a second She pulled it off and searched for some new clothes. About 20 minutes later she walked out of the bathroom. She was wearing heavy black cargo pants, black combat boots aswell as a black shirt and hoody that left her stomach exposed, the heavily toned muscles clearly visible as she walked outside holding the clothes and a lighter in her hands.
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Haden noticed his old friend spike wave him down. He heard his concerns and took careful note of his friend's suggestion.
"Every marksman needs at least two ways out. Down the stairs, or down the fire escape. Tree? Only way is down. They eventually find you." He said to himself. He saw something in the distance.
Haden slung his rifle on his shoulder, then hops in from the window. He is now running down the stairs, shouting, "T-73 and a column of 25 foot mobiles! Get away from the windows!"
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Igner hides a closet matching the closet wood paneling
Sent from my SM-T210R using Tapatalk
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A plane flew overhead in the sky, not too far from Roosevelt High School, a red bi-plane, the hammer and sickle on the sides. It touched down on an empty road, and screeched to a halt, smoke emitting from the wheels and the smell of burning rubber in the air. The engine rumbled off, and the rotor slowly came to a stop. The huge snake climbed out of the vehicle, his long black coat contrasting the bright red of the plane. Huge boots slammed upon the ground, and the young KGB fastened his sniper rifle's belt-strap to his large chest. His prominent green eyes surveyed the area, and he tucked his peaked cap, the red star on the cap collecting dew of the light rain that started. He slowly walked towards the school, his hand near his pistol, ready to act.
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Spike immediately jumped up from the chair and grabbed his rifle, tossing the butt on the ground. Instead of running inside, he hopped over the small railing and ran to take cover behind some tall rocks not far but not too close from the cabin off to the side. He took aim and quietly positioned himself where he could see everything that was in front of him.
A loud engine accompanied by the screeching metal of tread against gears combined itself into a haunting echo that penetrated through the trees. The loud noise of war machinery inching closer made Spike feel uneasy. He'd hoped the tank would roll past, having missed the property entirely. He could hear the faint shouting of a Russian voices over the tank, and it was clear they were getting closer as the noises got louder.
Still, Spike couldn't see any advancement through the trees. His paws began to sweat against the grip of his weapon. With a carbine, the enemy would have to be a lot closer to neutralize and within his sights. But still, there was nothing. He waited.
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Viktoriya dropped the cloths in a bush nearby before ducking back into the house. She instinctively went for her bow grabbing a few arrows from the quiver and locking them into the arrow grips on the bow itself. She moved away from one of the windows but stood to the side of it, knocking a single arrow and drawing back the bow about halfway she stood there and listened to the tank as well as picking up some of the words the infantrymen were shouting to each other.
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After a few days of ducking the tank columns and foot patrols, Rayleonarde became accustomed to the sounds of near by tanks, and thought nothing of it. He did, however, remain hidden, as not sure how to approach the situation. Faced with the prospect of choice, he began conversing with his other personalities.
"How do we go about it?" Rayleonarde started, in a hushed whisper, hardly audible above the tank.
"Well, we did spot some that didn't fit the Russian regalia, and they didn't run out to meet the platoon, but do we know if they are friendly?" Ray hissed again, this time in a gruffer, older tone, like an old war veteran.
"There's only one way to find out, isn't there? We'll wait the tank out, she'll leave soon enough, agreed?" This was followed by several yes's from Rayleonarde, each in a different tone or accent.