Black Knight RP

[eli_gone_crazy]

5 years ago
A computer winks into life as files begin opening, hundreds of photos, case files, and newspaper articles flash across the screen. As the last files pop into being, a word document opens with the command, “Solve Me.”
A girl enters the room hastily and tosses her book bag to the side, ignoring the problems of Geometry and verb conjugation for the moment. She pushes her mop of unruly red hair out of her eyes as she glances are the now unlocked and full of new files computer. Her blue eyes scan over the muddle of odd clippings, one advertised the sale of a lawnmower; another announced the death of a Mrs. Bradbury, found dead in her apartment with results pending; a third raved about a new cleaning solution named Fresh-O-Shine, “It’s the fresh-iest!”
The world begins to fade away as the girl closes her mind and begins the search for the answer.


Morgan startled awake in her economy class seat. Her face was awkwardly close to a very loud, very cranky toddler who was attempting to put a straw in her eye. Morgan stood up and carefully negotiated her way in between the aisles of unhappy businessmen and the depressing glares of frustrated mothers attempting to silence their babies. She almost made it to the bathroom before being stopped by a woman in a crisp uniform.
“Please find your seat ma’am,” the flight attendant said in a crisp british accent. “We will be arriving at our destination shortly.”
Morgan looked the flight attendant in the eyes, and began to see. She was an older woman, probably working a few more years before retiring, she had been married two times by the looks of her ring finger, and judging from her stance, she wasn’t moving.
Nodding her head politely, Morgan returned to the claustrophobic space in between an older businessman and her nemesis, the toddler.
After finally escaping the confined spaces of the airplane, Morgan went towards a laboratory she knew of in the eastern side of London. After haggling with a couple of orderlies who had “lost” their cigarettes, Morgan got a couple of the things she couldn’t bring in an airplane. A medical kit fit enough for the marines, a few odds and ends and a new set of lab equipment built for the field.
Thanking the orderlies, Morgan made her way towards the meeting place. She strolled along the streets, enjoying the view, until the fact hit her that she was running late. To a knight meeting. Shit. She started to walk faster, keeping her head down against the intermittent rain. Could they have put this any further away? She thought as she walked across the street and rounded the corner. There. The decrepit building looked like it needed a few years of repair. The shingling was slip-shod and the ivy crawling up the walls didn’t help. Ominous, that the building seems to want to fall on its own.
Gulping down any thoughts of fear, Morgan began to walk toward the gated old house. As she strode up to the grumpy house, she saw a teenager around her age walking up the lane.
He appeared sleepy, with his eyes half-shut and his pace at a stroll. He was at the average height for most males his age eighteen to twenty; and a set of blood-red eyes, paired with snow-white hair indicative of genetic disorder, Albinism. He was wearing a trench coat, can conceal weapons, aid and other necessities; as well as a briefcase that he was holding casually almost too casually. He was almost completely unremarkable.
The teen began to slow once he reached the gate of the derelict mansion, pausing in front of the grand old house, silently beckoning her to pass him. Morgan stopped dead, staring at the kid in her way. She didn’t want to start a dialogue with the kid, at all. After about thirty seconds of both teens staring at each other, Morgan pushed against the sense of dread and said, “Hi, are you here for the meeting, too?”
The boy’s eyes narrowed slightly at the sound of my voice normal behavior in this neighborhood. He straightened and said, “I suppose you could say that... I'm Alister Dalton Black. Nice to meet you."
Morgan remembered the scratchy voice of her grandmother as she taught her to protect herself from the Koga’i ,
“Remember, ayoli, the archer is only as good as the bow. Likewise, the brain is only as good as the eyes. Use your abilities wisely, or suffer from a lack of preparedness.”
Eyes are not dilated, seems to be in good health, no murderous intent, mild American accent, most likely the eastern sector. Really unsure as to why he’s here, maybe I’ll come back after he’s gone. But I am late for the meeting, and he is as well apparently. He seems a little suspicious, but any more delay and he might realize that I have no clue.
“So, are we going to stand here all day? I mean, it’s a little cold outside, don’t you think?”
"Hmm? Oh, I guess it is. Doesn't really bother me." Alistair shrugged his shoulders in an indeterminate way, shaking loose a few dewdrops from his coat.
"Well, in that case, let's get going. Ladies first." Gesturing in an overly pompous manner, and keeping his voice very calm, Alastair leveled a composed gaze towards Morgan, flashing a polite smile towards the now speechless and immovable detective. What is this guy doing? Is this a trap? Morgan mulled over the possibilities of dying versus the vial of hydrofluoric acid in her pocket as Alistair finished his bow with a flourish. As she contemplated her answer, Alistair’s polite smile may have changed into a smirk, nah, too obvious. Nodding her head, she leveled a glare towards Alistair and said, “Sure, I’ll make sure to get the gate.”
Alistair straightened up, stretching to make his bow less awkward. His smile never left his face. Then Alister looked Morgan in the eyes and very casually said, “Suit yourself.”
Without another motion he began to stride calmly up the path to the door, ignoring the weeds and broken beer bottles and the now confused investigator, swinging the briefcase back and forth methodically.
Morgan followed behind the other teen, keeping a safe distance. Once they had arrived at the front door, Alistair knocked twice and, when there was no audible response, quietly turned the knob. As soon as the door was open, he walked into the house and out of sight. Not wanting to stay in the gloomy air any longer, Morgan shrugged the water off of her jacket and stepped inside the door. The foyer reeked of decay, but she could hear voices on the side of a door. Alistair didn’t break his stride and walked through into the next room, completely ignoring Morgan’s existence.
"Well, this is quite the group we have here." He said as he strode into the room, stopping beside the door and impatiently holding it open. After I had walked through he found a place to stand by the wall and said, "Alister Dalton Black, by the way, and this is-"
He paused as he realized "I don't think I got your name."
At the sight of Alister’s pointing hand, 10 pairs of eyes swiveled to meet Morgan. Swallowing all fear, she saw an older man in a ridiculous Private eye costume, a hyperactive man who couldn’t seem to sit still, and another boy around her age, closing a book and looking contemplatively at her. Then, mustering up her courage, she said, “Hi, I’m Jones, and I’m here about the order?”
All of them stared at Morgan for another few, agonizing seconds. Then they started resuming what Morgan assumed they were doing before; talking amongst themselves, reading, and staring off into space were all popular choices. Walking closer to Alister, Morgan set her bags down and started to observe the people around her.

[Victin]

Pablo woke up in his bed, with something wet in his face.

"Miss Whiskers!"

He sat in his bed and started to pet her. She was adorable, with her silver-blue coat and her bright green eyes, even more adorable because she was licking his face. Pablo also noticed two of his other cats playing with a trinket in the floor, upon which lay more than half of his bedsheets.

Damn, last night was crazy. He yawned. Let me see if everything is here. Clothes. He had his brown shirt and his underpants. His pants were on the floor, crumpled. Cigarretes. Nowhere in sight. Wallet. Over on the bedside table. At least I got it out of my pocket. He picked it up and checked for everything. Yup, wallet is fine. Phone. Also on the bedside table, showing it was 13:30. Crap. Good that I don't have to work today. And luckily it's intact too. Heh... Reminds me of that night with the noodles. Wait, I got a voicemail? "Undentified number"... Oh crap. I hope it's not the police. Fred would be sent to jail if something happened. He stared at his smarphone, hoping it wasn't the police, when he noticed something... unnusual. The smell of blood in the air. And it wasn't just the smell of blood. It was a recent killing, right here at this home. The "trinket" the cats were fighting over was just a proof of the murder. That's why they aren't hungry. They were fed. Pablo put Miss Whiskers aside and stood up. He walked past his living room and went to the kitchen, where he proclaimed to the killer:

"Dmitri!"

He stoped cookingg some bacon and turned back. "Pablo! How are you?" He spoke with his Netherlandish accent (or some other European accent, Pablo didn't really know where he was from)

"Nah, I'm fine. Where have you been?"

"You know, traveling a bit, enjoying my 'retirement'."

They hugged, and Dmitri showed him the small dining table in the middle of the kitchen.

"Chicken soup, as you like it. Killed just before cooking!"

"I missed meeting with you. Your food is always great. It's the only thing that beats meat in my preferences."

"Stop with it. Now sit and eat. I'll finish frying this bacon."

He sat and waited for Dmitri. The latter finished cooking the bacon, sat down and shared it with Pablo. Then both of them started their lunch. "So, what brings you here?"

The look on his face was distant and thoughtful. "Well, I don't think you have seen it, but... The Order called you."

Pablo's eye shined. This was the day he was hoping for, since the first time Dmitri told his stories for the first time when you went camping. "Did you see my cigarretes?"

"They are bad for you. I threw then away. Anyways, I came here to... Ask for you to not go."

"But... Why? I've waited for this moment my whole life!"

"I just don't wanna you to... You know die."

A silence take control of the room, and was broken by the noise of a cat. "Miss Whiskers!" Pablo raised the black cat, and stared at its golden eyes "Do you want food? Oh, you're hungry, Miss Whickers, aren't you? You gonna get fat if you keep eating like that." He gave one of the chicken wings for the cat, and put it on the floor. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"Please don't go. I don't think it's safe. They are calling a task force because some experts died, adn they calle a ragtag bunch of rookies."

"Of course it isn't safe. But I want to go anyways. You are the reason I want to go. You are one of the most important people in my life, together with mom and dad. And you found them for me."

"You know... Since my own son died in battle, we got closer and closer... I don't want you to-"

"Don't worry. I won't die. I swear." He put a piece of the chicken on his mouth and swallowed "If I die, I'll come back and haunt them until they died. I swear."

Dmitri grinned. He grinned in the way that Pablo knew meant he was laughting inside.

"So, I guess there's no way of going against you. Just... Be safe, okay?"

"Don't worry. I'll be fine. You trained me. Who taught me to use my fire better?"

Dmitri smirked. "Okay then. But you must go today."

"Wait... what!?"

"One person was missing and they called you in the last hour. That's how I got the time to come here."

Pablo started to gobble and almost choked.

"Eat slower. You don't want to die here, do you?"

Pablo laughed, and so did Dmitri.

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Pablo quickly finished packing his backpack and his suitcases, while Dmitri watched. Clothes, water bottles, canned food, and everything else he would need for survival. He already had two of them and one was missing. He crawled under his bed and opened a secret compartment on the floor, one of the many he kept in the house. It had ammunition and most of his knives, but there are many others throught the house. He couldn't legally own such an amount of ammunition and weaponry. Yet, all he had was a magnum. Well, he also had some rifles, but Dmitri took then away before the police found out about them. Pablo picked up the box and started to pack it inside his third suitcase. Half of it had bullets, the other half had knives.

Wait... Where am I going to take my bombs?

"What's up?"

"Can't take my bombs."

Dmitri gave a long and slow inhale, and then spoke: "Don't worry." Then, he handed a piece of paper to Pablo.

"What's this?"

"It's a store house of a friend of mine. Ammo, knives, bombs, anything, just go there and buy it. The Order doesn't need to know about him though."

Pablo smirked, and then he turned to pick up the last piece he needed, his handbag. He packed it with cat toys and food, and looked over at a young kitty, only one year old. It's of a blueish grey coat, with bright yellow eyes, and Pablo could hold him with one hand.

"Who are your friend Miss Whiskers? What's the name of this silvery-blue man? Did you fall for his green eyes?" Pablo giggled, put Miss Whiskers in his handbag, stuff it with some cat clothes and headed out of home.

"You'll solve my paperwork, won't you?"

"Don't worry. I got you this job, I can get you another."

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Pablo stood quietly in front of the meeting place. From that point on, Pablo would be on his first mission for the Order. He gave one last glance at the exterior of the house and started to map escape routes on his mind. After mapping three possible escape routes, he picked up his backpack and opened it over the hood of a vehicle. He noted a grenade launcher over the front seat. Focus Pablo, focus. Now, the last check-up. Water bottle and supplies in backpack? Check. Tantou given to me by Dmitri? Check. Miss Whiskers? Check. Document from the Order? Check. Another set of clothes? Check. The Anarchist Cookbook? Check. Supplies for making Molotov Cocktails? Check. Now to out of the backpack. Extra ammo? Check. Machete? Check. Hunting knife? Check. Survival knife? Check. Now, the second part of the check-up.

Pablo closed his backpack and kept going with the check-up. Molotov where an water bottle would be? Check. Pistol and one extra ammo cartridge in pants' right pocket? Check. Tactical folding knife in pants' left pocket? Check. Bowie knife tied to leg? Check. Ammunition cartridge taped to left arm? Check. Balisong knife bound to right arm with rubber bands? Check. Silver bullets and nailclipper/swiss army knife in jacket's left pocket? Check. Secret password in jacket's right pocket? Check.

He was done. Now, all he needed to do was enter the house.

...

He had never felt so nervous in his life. Not even when Miss Whiskers got out of her handbag and jumped in the pilot mid-flight, like, ten hours ago. Pablo remembered it as if it was yesterday. He opened the door and presented himself:

"Hi! I was sent here b-"

A bullet was shot at Pablo. The bullet moved perpendicularly in front of his face and hit the door. Pablo got his gun at his right hand and his knife in his left hand. Someone hid behind a television and aimed at Pablo. Another ducked and hid behind a couch, while a girl calmly watched as she moved closer to him. A janitor got into fighting stance with his mop.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" A woman yelled, pointing her gun at the shooter. Said shooter flicked his hand in the air and was suddenly holding a spike-like thing. Then he spoke:

"That was a warning shot." - He said it with a slight twitch of his eyebrow.

Wait, he really was trying to kill me!

"Who are you and why are you just walking in here?"

"Uh... I was sent by the Order. They told me you could be suspicious." Pablo opened his bag and picked up an envelope. He opened it and showed to everyone. "I was called up at the last moment. I had to take a personal plane. The pilot gave me this. Ah! And he gave me this too." He opens his jacket's right pocket and unfolds a piece of paper. "He told me someone was going to ask for a password or something. He tried to make me record it, but I didn't, so he wrote it down. I dunno what's written, I guess it's something about a 'lamb' and German."

"It's French." Said the shooter, lowering his gun, slightly annoyed.

"Oh, I see. Anyways, he told me to burn it after, so..." Pablo makes a paper ball and creates a single flame, that burns the paper from within. When it caught fire, he let it fall down in the floor and started to insanely stamp on it, before the whole place caught fire. "By the way, who is the owner of that grenade launcher out there?"

The man who had hidden behind the TV answered.

"You mean Nagasaki-chan?"

"Yes. I tried to get a RG-6 grenade launcher a long time ago. Where did you get it?"

"I have my ways."

"All I have with me is some Molotovs."

"Molotovs? I have some C-4 and a few other things back in my car. Wanna some?"

Pablo's eyes shined. "Yes, of course!"

He moved closer to the man and they started to talk about their favorite explosives, while Pablo himself got Miss Whiskers out of his backpack and started to pet her.

[Lordxana0]

When the last person entered the door opened and three men in full combat gear with gasmasks covering their faces and eyes walked in carrying six suitcases. One of them rested the suitcases on the floor and put the DVD in the player and turned on the T.V. before stepping aside. The man on the T.V. was covered in shadows that blocked his face. "Hello Zetta team" the voice was heavily synthesised. "The men in the room with you now are not a threat to you, they are merely here to deliver these cases to you and clean up before you go, now before I tell you which team is to go where I will show you the two targets"

The screen changed and it now showed the inside of a basement. All sorts of objects had just been casually tossed to the floor. Not only that but it seemed like the floor was covered in a sticky substance. There were two people on the screen. One of them was a tied up man who was bound and gagged to a chair. His scalp was bleeding (If you are an Investigator you would guess that his hair had been ripped out bit by bit) and he was moaning softly behind the gag. The other man was wearing a black jacket that was covered in blood. His face was covered by a hood but his voice could be heard easily. "So what part finally did it for you, was it when I broke your dogs neck, no no it was when it covered your wife in kerosene and made you drop the match right?" the hooded man tilted his head back in thought. "No... no! I know what did it, was when I made you stab your daughter right?" he let loose a laugh. "Oh man that was the best part. She was all like 'no daddy don't kill me' and you totally did... well your hand was holding the knife when I forced it into her skull anyway, but hey at least you will be together for awhile, what did you think I seasoned that soup I gave you last night with"

The man began to make heaving sounds and the hooded man took off the gag before the man threw up on the ground. "I didn't think it was that bad" the hooded man shrugged and pulled over a small rolling table with a variety of bladed objects on it. "Lolipop lolipop oh loli loli loli lolipop... budo do do" he picked up a sharp looking kitchen knife. "Come on baby lolipop I'll tell you why, your kiss is sweeter then a cherry pie" he slowly dragged the blade along the mans cheek cutting it. "You know this all could have been avoided if you weren't such an asshole about getting me my coffee"

The man looked at him. "What... what are you talking about?"

"Last Thursday, I went into this small little piece of shit coffee joint because I was needing some espresso to pour into a victims eye, and you were a really noisy jerk asking if I wanted something to go with it" he raised the blade ready to stab the man

"I don't work at a coffee place, I am a lawyer" the man was trembling.

"...What?" the hooded man seemed to examine him. "Oh bloody hell you aren't the guy, well Jesus man why the hell didn't you say so earlier?" he sighed. "I go through all this trouble and it isn't even the right guy" he drove the knife into the mans brain. He repeatedly stabbed the man ten times. "That is for not speaking up" he turned toward the camera. "Oh hello there" he picked it up and aimed it for his still hooded face. "I am sure somewhere out there you Organization bastards are watching this, so I just want to let you know that I can't wait to meet you, I am so desperate for inspiration, and whenever I kill one of you guys my heart just breaks out into song" he laughed and the video ended.

The screen shifted again this time to the inside of a Church. There was only a lone priest who seemed to be inspecting the floors with a small dust buster at his side. The windows showed that it was night outside. The doors opened and the Church's security cam seemed to zoom in on a woman with a face that was half beautiful half hideous. "Forgive me Father, for I am about to sin" she reached out her hand and the priest seemed to freeze in place. The woman walked over and put a hand on his forehead. "Oh the wonders you are about to see, no longer will you worship your face idols, for you are about to meet the one true God, the king of London's Sewers." Another man came into the room from a door to the side but as soon as he walked out the woman put his other hand forward and the man's head twisted 180 degrees and he fell over. "Now then Father, come with me" she turned and began to walk the priest following behind, his each step seemed like it was forced. The woman took a look at the security cam before the picture went out.

The T.V. screen switched back to the shadowy man. "These are your targets, you will be divided into teams of two, each one with a mission to investigate and neutralize the enemy, capture would be preferable but with Freaks it is damn near impossible, two of the suitcases hold 6 cards each 6 are linked to a bank account in which you are all holders, the total amount of money is 245,000 euro's in both accounts, this should give you access to anything financial. The next two contain ammo and weapons that fit your individual fighting style, outside you will find two vans with political license plates that will allow you to carry these weapons without being searched. Inside of the final two suitcases and fake I.D's and passports. Good luck agents" the man disappeared and two rows of names appeared.

Team A: Spirit Type Freak
(Adell) Redwinters
(Dryunya) Yan Kolomin
(Zup) Duncan Kirkwood
(eli_gone_crazy) Morgan Jones
(agoraoptera) Sig Ludan
(Victin) Pablo Fernandés

Team B: Monster Type Freak
(narrativedilettante) Anna Coulson
(AMimsyBorogove) Aiden Byrne
(Pixelmage) Kevin
(Scarab) Millicent Sinclair
(Sicon112) Alister Black
(Ningyou) Rivka Stavi

(Okay so this is how this turn it going to work, Team A will gather their stuff and commingle and then leave, and that Team B will do the same, then each of you will enter your vehicle and prepare to go to your first crime scene, maps are provided in the cars, best of luck you will need it)