Creative Discussions > Other Roleplay
[RP] The Omnicide Reality
St. Jimmy:
Money, money. Where can I get some money?
Crimson continued riding through the streets. The whole city reeked of smoke. Half tobacco and... half something else. There was an obvious problem on his mind. He needed money, or else he wouldn't be able to survive. His eyes moved to a figure in the alley. A drug dealer from the looks of it. They always have money. Crimson parked the chopper by the curb, and walked to the man. He revealed the blade he acquired earlier and held it up to the man.
Gimme whatever money you have.
He immediately handed over all he was carrying.
Speak of this to no one or you'll be sorry.
With the money now in his pocket, Crimson got back on the bike and rode off.
Frenchfry:
"Okay, then. Do we have the location of Miss Nex?"
Stefan and Astrid followed Calx, whom was in all likelihood still sore from their disobeying his extremely vague orders.
Silver:
"This way now..." He says continuing along his planned route.
He no longer cared that his rifle was an obvious give away to who he was, he just wanted to get out of the city.
Frenchfry:
The pair followed Calx about two meters behind him.
Astrid grabbed Stefan by the wrist, whispering into his ear.
"What's wrong with Calx? He's acting like a zombie."
Stefan turned his head towards her slightly.
"I dunno. The guy got shot by someone who is allegedly his crazy deterrent. Combine that with the fact that he's already pants-on-head insane, and you've got one unreadable killer."
As he looked forward, Stefan stopped dead. Another checkpoint. This one was heavily guarded, not like the ones he'd passed on their way here. A lone officer moved out towards them, planting himself inches in front of Calx, whom he towered over.
"Exit from the city is off limits, pal."
Silver:
Contiuing to walk foreward, with his head held low, Calx unsheathes his knife, plants it into the stomach of the officer, and contiues to walk as he pulls the serraded edge out from the man. The officer silently crumples behind him, Calx oblivious to the officers reaction, sheaths the bloody knife, and draws his beretta, head still facing the ground.
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