#reign of fire rpg

[queen0fshadow]

Althéa Hernández: born in the depths of Hell and currently resides in Barcelona, where she works as a restorer of ancient Egyptian art. At 28 years old in human years, she combines youthful beauty with a mysterious, dark aura that leaves no one untouched.

As a Succubus, she possesses abilities beyond human comprehension. She can influence people with her mere presence, using their deepest desires and fears to achieve her goals. Her powers include telepathy, shapeshifting, and the ability to manipulate shadows.

Althéa shares a close bond with her brother Alváro, who is also involved in the world of ancient Egyptian art. Together, they navigate the darker sides of Barcelona, where shady dealings, mysterious artifacts, and demonic forces intersect.

[sapphira-mydnyte]

My second one will be Lilith La Vrinda.

I'm making RP charas & she's my first.

Warning: Long Post

RP Profile for: Cyrendra von Strayts

Name: Cyrendra von Strayts

Alias: Ezmerelda/Ezzy

Nickname: Cynder

Titles: Queen of Fire

Mortal Age: 27

Actual Age: 310

Sire: Demoness Zeronia von Strayts/Vampire Leon Hyde

Species: Half demon, half vampire.

Bloodline: The von Strayts as the half-blood Queen.

Zodiac: Leo

Sexuality: Bisexual

Gender: Female

Category: Main Character

Family:

Lilith: Demon Queen of Ice. Cynder hates her cold half sister with a passion & desires to steal the throne of hell from her.

Cyndarial: Demon Queen of Dragons. Cynder's cousin & favorite of the external family she has. These two love their fiery domain in the hells & get along since Cynder takes care of the dragons with her cousin.

Tyrena: Witch turned Demon by Cynder herself. Cynder won't admit it, but she's got a huge crush on the beautiful witch since she's been turned.

Lyla: Eldest Sister to Twyla & Viola, is in charge of hell while Lilith is out. Cynder is jealous of her running all of hell since it's now covered in ice, which is why she's in Arizona.

Twyla: Middle sister to Lyla & Viola. Is Cynder's best friend in hell & is always ready to answer her call instead of Lilith when she gets the chance.

Viola: Baby sister to Lyla & Twyla. Cynder looks after her when her older sisters are out with Lilith & is her ally when needed.

Abilities: Master swordswoman with long swords, short swords & daggers.

Fire, blood & demon magic.

Secondary commander of dragons.

Transform humans that are loyal to the hells into demons at will.

Inhuman speed & strength.

Can feed on sick mortals as a vampire without contracting the disease herself, but instead, can spread it if she feeds on a healthy mortal afterward.

Haven:

Normally: Hell in the rings of fire.

Currently: Deserts of Arizona, just outside of Phoenix, under the shifting sands.

Feeding: Hates cold foods with a passion.

Feeds on humans due to being half vampire.

Will eat almost anything cooked, whether it's mortal flesh, rebellious demons, or even mortal foods.

Has a particular liking to anything spicy & the hotter, the better.

Looks: This largely depends on where she is & the time of day. Since she's in Arizona, she has two outfits.

Due to the fact that she's half demon, she can walk in the sun, so she wears a skimpy, silver outfit that looks like an armored bikini with her glorious long horns coming out of what looks like a bandana, but is actually part of her demonic form.

By nightfall, her vampire half shows & she mixes it with her demon horns. Although the horns are shorter, she now wears red armor with boots that reach up to her knees & is more covered for the coolness of the dark. Her sword of fire is drawn, ready for battle as well.

Demeanor: To her allies in the hells & the witch, Tyrena, she's relentless in demanding loyalty & respect from them. However, she's also one of the hardest working queens in helping her cousin, some of Lilith's own allies & especially when helping Tyrena with her spells. She doesn't demand it for no reason, as she proves time & again that she does have a heart for a few souls. As long as they remain loyal & respect her, she'll not end their lives.

Nature: Cruel, tormenting & hateful around humanity. She punishes sinners & ends their lives as she sees fit. If she's feeding on humans instead of killing the sinners, she's still cruel with her bite, but far nicer depending on who she's feeding on.

Flaws: Unfortunately, even though she's a demon, her vampire half does mean that she's weaker during the day than at night. If one were to face her in the sun, they have a higher chance of beating her.

Another drawback of her vampire half is that she has to drink blood every so often & if she goes too long without feeding, she also becomes weak, even in hell.

As a demon & vampire, she is weak against holy relics & magics of any given sort, especially either during the day or when she hasn't drank blood for a period of time.

History: Zeronia & Leon, two sides of the coin of darkness. Zeronia was the right-hand lady of Tyren the Terror until she was sent out to Europe. She was said to have been chosen for an arranged marriage to the demon king, but on her travels, she met Leon. Leon was a rich, well-liked man who ran a gondola making company in Venice, Italy. He never revealed his vampire side to his workers, nor those he loved most, but it broke his heart to have to feed on the innocent every night. Zeronia fell in love with him, although she was assigned to kill him for betraying the Hyde family that pledged loyalty to Tyren. Zeronia, feeling the same as he did as in not wanting to hurt anybody that didn't deserve it, ran away with Leon.

Cyrendra was born five years after they got together, with Leon & Zeronia taking their mortal forms to go have her at the hospital. The doctor & nurses knew something off about the little girl, as she was stronger than the other newborns, louder & ate more. She never gained a lot of weight despite how much she ate, but for the most part, Cyrendra was a well-behaved little girl. She grew into a fine young lady as the years went on, usually on her best behavior too. Once she hit sixteen, her vampire & demon powers increased dramatically, throwing the young teen into a depressed state. She didn't understand why she hungered for blood, nor why she had fangs, claws, horns & scales or why, when she was in an extreme mood, her looks changed & she summoned fire in her emotional outbursts. When she asked her parents, they told her the truth & revealed their true forms to her. They loved her & told her so many times, even after she changed & they revealed themselves.

Unfortunately, the peace was not to last. Their home was attacked just before Cyrendra's eighteenth birthday, besieged by Tyren's army for her mother's betrayal to him. Leon was murdered by the king's sword & her mother was thrown into the fires of hell, burned alive in her mortal form. The teen was chained to a slab, forced to watch her parents die in the hells, but with their senseless ending, she awakened fully into her strength. To this day, she's never forgiven Tyren for killing her parents & seeks to end his reign forever, even if it means betraying Lilith.

To Coven: Cyrendra has her beloved witch, Tyrena running a coven in her name. Although the witches are few, they do Cyrendra's bidding in the mortal world. The coven name is simple, "Sisterhood of Strayt." This small coven & its followers hope to put Cynder on the throne, but to do it, bloodshed is required. To House She was once a part of the Hyde house when her parents were alive, but she's returned to the von Strayts house. Her father's betrayal was the Hyde family's downfall, but with her as their only child, she's reclaiming her mother's place in hell. Her coven members are part of her house just as much as her cousin is & she wouldn't trade them for the world if it means Tyren is dethroned.

Religion: Obviously, being a half demon-vampire hybrid, she's bound to the darkness & all seven deadly sins. However, each demon does have a beating heart within them, so even they are capable of love, but it's a rare trait in hell.

Work: She was trained in the ways of the sword by her father & magic by her mother, so for Cyrendra, she writes spellbooks for her followers & forges the finest weapons as well. She makes a good paycheck in the mortal realm when she's in Italy for anything. Europeans love to read about as much as they love to fight & with firearm regulation being tight in a lot of places, her daggers are what many call their best friend in the house. What friends her parents had & their children are the ones that usually buy them, but the books are loved in every sense. Although they're labeled as fiction, her books are in the libraries across Italy & in a few parts of Europe.

Hobbies: Besides crafting weapons, writing books & taking care of dragons, she's also fond of swimming. Not many demons take to enjoying the cool waters of the mortal realm, but Cyrendra does. This hobby stems from her childhood in Venice as her father let her go swimming in the canal that he had his finest gondolas docked in at his port. She doesn't go swimming very often, but she makes time to go though.

[maleyanderecafe]

Video Game Recommendations

Indie Visual Novels

Solipsism Reigns

Eat your heart Valentine!

My Darling

Home’s Embrace

Don’t Take This Risk

XOXO Blood Droplets

Y.A.N.A.

Infatuation

Yandere Love: Chains of Fate

Sweetest Valentine

Forgive My Sins, Father

You Are My Sunshine

Pulsato Cordis

Picture Perfect Boyfriend

Stuck in a Yandere Visual Novel...HELP!!

ITYH: A Horror Otome

Froot Basket Valentine

Invite Me In

What's Your Name?

Mistrick

Yandere Heaven

Love Me Not

Too Deep In Love

Love Company

Missing

Pocket Lover!

A Portrait of Feathers

Dr. Morgan's Counseling Session

Picture Perfect Romance

Tentador Leches

Colorful Mirai: Spooky Edition

Be My Muse

Froot Basket Dark Chocolate

The Science of Staying Awake

Eat Your Heart Valentine 2

Line 88

Please Don't Hate Christmas

Lucky Day!

House Check

Mushroom Oasis

Yanchat

Karamu

Gentle Fall

Sweet Dreams

Where Winter Crows Go

A Date with Denial

Kimbark Street

Past Hope

The Stranger from the Bus Stop

Love Me Dearly

Akahane Academy

Flowers of Evil

Bleeding Canvas

My Ange

Is it Wrong to want to be Locked up, Toyed with and Tortured by a Hot Guy?

Bittersweet Blythe

Klein v0.1

Rot with Me

Inclement Idee Fixe

Death by Fire

Loser

Dear Devere

Domestic Dread

The Shades of Red

Blood and Lust and Lust for Blood

Eternal Dreamscape

Pretty Boy Panic

Suffocation

Hell Trap

MindMindMind

Channel 453 -Shadows of the Game

Than Winter Came

Good/Bad Cop

Tom

Locked Out

The Yandere CEO

RPG/ Other Types of Games

Devil's Gankuran

Saccharine

Desperate Love Feast

Desert Nightmare

Love, Sam

Doom Stones

PC

Ephemeral Fantasy on Dark

[centrally-unplanned]

2024 Stuff I Liked Post - Video Games

Zenless Zone Zero: I like Genshin - Mihoyo, despite their flaws, has a really good knack for character designs and smooth combat systems that reward complex team building without being too punishing or finicky. ZZZ is just "more" but in a streetpunk setting, which, hey, I love that shit! The main character runs a retro VHS rental store, who can hate on that. ZZZ is Genshin but streamlined in a lot of ways, with a focus on combat, more involved team building and demands on execution, while being paired with much simpler stories and extra activities. Which if I wanted "more" Mihoyo, is exactly what I would want, so very smart on their part to realize that.

Alas if only they could reign in their horniness by 20%; one too many cast members are uncanny valley on that shit. But I don't have to play them, so whatever.

Unicorn Overlord: I think I said this already elsewhere, but I can't find it, so - In 1999 Ogre Battle 64 came out for the Nintendo 64. Years later, I rented a copy from the local Hollywood Video - the Blockbuster for the cool kids, obvi - on a whim because the N64 had a real dearth of JRPGs. And I loved it, I mainlined it every hour of that weekend; what sold me on it was the core system of squads you build that fight independently based on your setup. It was the "simulation of realism" that enamored me, the idea of building a plan and hitting "go" and then watching it win or die - the Factorio of JRPGs. Like so many past games it is a hot mess; the balance is insanely off, certain mechanics are totally worthless, and you will absolutely look up guides online to figure out how to promote/build half your units because the game has no interest in telling you.

All of these things were things I hope a sequel would improve upon...but one never emerged. Until Unicorn Overlord, over two decades later! A spiritual sequel with the exact same "simulation" mechanics, and with way better balance, progression, skill synergy, etc. Hell, they even made the 3x3 grid for deploying units a 2x3 grid because the middle row was completely unused in Ogre Battle 64 - that is when I knew they meant business. The story is typical, the characters a bit cookie cutter, but the art direction is solid, the writing rarely stumbles, and hey it even has some bonus romance mechanics for Fire Emblem castaways like me. I think I played the entire 40+ hour game in a week - alas current-me has a job, but I got close to my teenage record. This game was made for me, specifically, but I do recommend it for others who really like strategy JRPGs.

Noblesse Oblige: Time to get super indie - this year RPGMaker game "Political Science Theory Meets Succubus Eroge" The Last Sovereign wrapped up its primary questline, and I really enjoyed it. But you know, I played most of it in other years, doesn't really count for now - but it inspired me to dive into a bunch of RPGMaker games (alongside The Coffin of Andy & Leyley, also from 2023). Most of them were forgettable (though I hope to do more), but Noblesse Oblige kept me on board where others didn't.

This is the hyper-indie-solo-creator world, I will not say this game is like, polished, you know? At a lot of parts the writing is a little cringe, the main character has some real author-self-insert vibes, the kind of stuff you expect from something this indulgent. But what it has going for it is being incredibly committed to just being a high-drama, high-political-maturity medieval fantasy civil war soap opera. You will balance budgets between army and civil development, you will deal with rebellious dukes with a dozen motivations, you will take part in a claimant civil war that also splits religious factions along doctrinal lines, and more! The game is essentially like a linear-track visual novel with RPG battles running through it, and player agency comes from econo-political decisions instead of area exploration. Something a lot of games are allergic to, but that means the game can commit whole-hog to its story, which I really like.

It clearly passes my indie game threshold for quality, and will def continue playing it as content comes out.

Honorable Mentions: Victoria 3 (my beloved, my hated enemy), Yu-No, VR-Date Simulator May Club

[gaydragontournament]

List of battles, as chosen by wheel spin. Each round will last about a week, Starting next Monday.

Round 1, Part 1:

King Valerius (Dragon's Reign by Raythe Reign/X. Aratare) vs Nel (Fire Emblem)

Yang Xiao Long (RWBY) vs Falin Touden/Red Dragon (Dungeon Meshi)

Qibli (Wings of Fire) vs Dan Heng/Dan Feng (Honkai Star Rail)

Evaristo (The Las Leyendas movie franchise) vs Paarthurnax (The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim)

Prismatic dragon (Dungeons & Dragons (Epic Level Handbook, Dragons of Dragons of Faerûn) vs Imperialdramon (Digimon)

Whiptail lizard (Real Life) vs Shi An (After The Abyss Dragon Woke Up (深渊巨龙苏醒以后))

Sundew (Wings of Fire) vs Rex Igneous (The Dragon Prince)

Uncle Iroh (Avatar: The Last Airbender) vs Azhdaha/Retuo Longwang (Genshin Impact)

Round 1, Part 2:

Rei (Vainglorious Webcomic) vs Remy (Angels with Scaly Wings)

Soren (Fire Emblem:Path of Radiance + Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn) vs Wrathion (Warcraft Series)

Valax (Blades of Light and Shadow) vs Fiona (Flight Rising)

Kaido (One Piece) vs Velverosa (Mage & Demon Queen)

Lord Arum (The Penumbra Podcast: Second Citadel) vs Midgardsormr (Dragalia Lost)

Nimona (Nimona) vs Mateo (Poised in Either Eye by B. Pigeon and Fell A. Marsh)

Corrin (Fire Emblem: Fates) vs The Void Dragon (Aurora)

Anemone (Wings of Fire) vs Tillius the Paladin/Tilly Evans (She Kills Monsters)

Round 1, Part 3:

Unnamed Young Dragon (The Enchanted Forest Chronicles) vs Caden Bryce (Dragon's Reign by Raythe Reign/X. Aratare)

Veldora Tempest (That time I got reincarnated as a slime) vs Zuko (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Draco quinquefasciatus (Thailand, Indonesia, and Malaysia) vs Umber (Wings of Fire)

Rhea (Fire Emblem) vs Xue Xian (Copper Coins (Tong Qian Kan Shi) (铜钱龛世))

Tamarin (Wings of Fire) vs Samol (Friends at the Table: Seasons of Hieron)

Robin (Fire Emblem: Awakening) vs Ansur (Baldur's Gate 3)

Moondragon/Heather Douglas (Marvel Comics: Guardians of the Galaxy) vs Chromie/Chronormu (Warcraft Series)

Smaug (Lord of The Rings/The Hobbit) vs Burnet (Wings of Fire)

Round 1, Part 4:

Rong Minh Thanh Thuan/Thuan (Dominion of the Fallen series by Aliette de Bodard) vs Ventuswill (Rune Factory 4)

J'mon Sa Ord/Devo'ssa (Critical Role) vs Zinnia (Super Lesbian Animal RPG)

Tohru (Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid) vs Alear ( Fire Emblem: Engage)

Alduin (The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim) vs Jae-ha (Yona of the Dawn)

Dragona Joestar (Jojo's Bizzare Adventure: The Jojolands) vs Zhongli (Genshin Impact)

Ayame (Fruits Basket) vs Alba-Lenatus the Abyss Dragon (Yu-Gi-Oh!)

Zephyr (Poised in Either Eye by B. Pigeon and Fell A. Marsh) vs Terezi Pyrope (Homestuck)

Kazuma Kiryu (Yakuza Series) vs Malleus Draconia (Twisted Wonderland)

[thydungeongal]

What would your advice be for adapting a Forgotten Realms campaign setting for other systems? I really enjoy its worldbuilding and setting but would like to not be up against the inherent limitations of D&D for a game I'm looking into running that's a mix of political drama and intrigue.

(also, exotic system recommendations thereto appropriate appreciated)

Hmmm, unless there is a better game out there to support high fantasy intrigue and political drama, I would personally recommend taking a look at Reign. Now, I have personally not played nor read Reign, but I have seen it recommended so many times in the context of fantasy games that support politics and intrigue, and by people whose taste and judgement I trust.

I would like to suggest a fantasy reskinning of Free from the Yoke, but I feel it would be doing that game a disservice owing to how cool its default setting assumptions are.

I know the A Song of Ice and Fire RPG has been made into a generic game of fantasy politicking and intrigue but I keep hearing mixed things about it, so that's not a recommendation but like a cautious "this does exist."

[igorlevchenko-blog]

A word on Gothic, the game.

I had a brief exchange with @feletida on whether tw*tter could accommodate such literary genre as "giant schizo post" on merits of Gothic as an RPG. So here it goes…

Of course no discussion of the game would be scholarly without first addressing the elephant in the room: the Big Bad of the series is not some malignant deity, nor dragons, not even orcs—it's narcotic swamp-weed. For now, take it as you will.

Ok, what then, of the game's villains?

By the word's etymology, a villain is but a low-born rustic. Not an evil-doer per se, being inherently devoid of chivalry he's corralled into systematic moral failings by his own vices (which he himself cannot quite put the lid on).

By this definition, our five main heroes (PC, Diego, Gorn, Lester, Milten) are too—villains, for each has an unbridled vice salient within him.

Lester is slothful. He prefers never to take an active role in whatever happens to and around him. He spends most of the second game sitting by the fire roasting weenies, before settling into a routine of complaining about his migraines, caused most likely by excessive smoking. Of course he presents this as being forced into the habit by evil pull of hidden. At the start of Gothic 3 he's relegated to guarding the ship—a task he spectacularly fails at by letting it be stolen by pirate-vagabonds. A spell-speaker like Lester (supposedly is) shouldn't have had problems with dispersing a low-level rabble of mooks and yet.

Milton is excessively deferential towards authority and thus often finds himself stringed along into some disaster of altogether not his doing.

Diego's vice is pride, believe it or not. He may pose himself as a man with plans and shrewd ambition, but when Diego finally comes into good fortunes—he finds no gratification and readily discards it all in favour of adventure. The wealth and prestige have never mattered much to him, I reckon—it's been a pretext all along to ply his guile. This is the essence of self-adoration—to feel obliged to give regular libations to one's virtues.

Gorn alone resolves to reign in his vice (gluttony) for the sake of others. For a time at least—specifically when they all go on a sea voyage at the end of second game. All the while the others just continue wallowing in their vices.

Indeed Milten gets to have an authority above him, Lester—to further shirk all responsibility, Diego—to exercise his skills.

As for the PC: do I even have to list everything that's wrong with this beastly character. After all, you—being the player—have the perfect recollection of yourself running around beating friendlies unconscious to steal their weapons, ore and whatnot. The second game has a whole spell-scroll infrastructure to support that kind of play, made canon by Night of The Raven expansion's stringent allocation of learning points.

[fanficsforheartandsoul]

You’re Somebody Else | Ghost x Fem!Reader | Part I

Note: This is not a new part - haha I’m currently in my exam phase sooo yeahh, but I decided to split the prologue into two parts because I personally believes it flows better.

This fic has religious undertones at least in this part, I hope I don’t make anyone uncomfortable with this. I grew up Christian (tho I’m an atheist now) and I thought a bit about how I would react if I was suddenly in a parallel universe where I and several other people are supposed to be dead.

Warnings: Death, Mentions of Gore, Angst, COD Typical Violence, Mentions of Original Characters, Mention of Religion and Hell, Inaccurate Depiction of Medical Stuff, Injuries and prolly Military, Transmigration (lol)

Summary:  You watched him die and yet he’s somehow still alive. You’re certain that you’ve died too and yet you’re still kicking. Is this a message from the universe? A second chance to make things right? To confess? You want to believe it but you quickly realize that he’s not the same man you knew and loved. Yet your heart is fluttering when he touches you. Can you love this new version of him?

Word Count: 3,8k

Taglist: -

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)

Masterlist

Prologue, Part II, Part III, ...

When you open your eyes again the world is on fire and you’re looking at the ceiling of a helicopter.

Someone moves in your field of vision, but you can barely make out their features as the lights of the helicopter don’t seem to work. Your ears are ringing, and you can’t understand what the man is saying but based on his expression something bad is happening.

He’s a marine you realize belatedly when your eyes adjust to the dark environment and for a moment you wonder if you must continue to fight even after your death.

Is this hell?

You don’t actually believe in hell or heaven anymore but based on the fact that you woke up again this has to be some sort of afterlife.

The unknown soldier shakes you and yells something and the ringing finally stops, and you hear him call you by your callsign.

“Nomad! Fuck, can you hear me?! Jesus, for a second I thought you were a goner!”

You nod automatically and he grabs you by your plated vest, dragging you into an upright position.

“Your head is bleeding like crazy”, he curses and speaks into his mic to inform someone about your injury.

You haven’t even noticed it but when you touch your left temple you feel the edge of a helmet and your gloved fingers turn red. It doesn’t hurt.

While the marine speaks, he looks behind him and you follow his line of sight out of the helicopter. The heli apparently crashed.

Shots whizz past the window and the man ducks to avoid getting hit.

“I know you’re injured but AQ is reigning hellfire on us! I’ll take care of your wound in a second!”

The unknown marine faces you again and in his hand, he holds a M14 EBR. Automatically you know it’s yours.

“Keep holding on, Bravo Team will be here soon!”

You take the weapon with your right hand and the marine helps you on your feet.

“They’re shooting at us from the house!” He points in the general direction, “Keep your head low and don’t waste your bullets!”

“Okay”, you mumble. Okay you think.

You’re dead but you still have to fight. Makes sense.

Leaning against the wall you quickly scan the inside of the helicopter, then the immediate surroundings of it through one of the windows. The area is illuminated by small fires and corpses litter the dusty ground. Marines, all dead. Maybe this is hell.

It would make sense, all the lives you’ve taken on countless operations... Is this retribution?

The realization that you aren’t in the Caucasus Mountains anymore only trickles in slowly.

You turn to watch through the window beside you and spot the house which the marine mentioned in the distance, and you immediately make note of the smoke coming from the second floor.

“RPG!” someone yells and years of active combat situations make you instinctively drop low when you hear the familiar whoosh. The metal of the heli protests.

Shouts and gunfire echo in your ears and your world is turning but you stand up again, prepping yourself against the wall to have free line of sight towards the house.

Smoke is still coming from the second floor, and you watch through your scope for any movement. You see a shoulder and want to pull the trigger, but someone kills the hostile before you can react.

Bravo Team you think, does that mean I’m part of Alpha? You don’t know what the fuck is going on.

Your radio crackles.

“RPG is taken care of.”

You blink. That voice is familiar.

But before you can think about it more, the marine comes up to you again. You realize he’s a Captain.

“Sarge, we should wrap your head.”

Now? Now’s not a good fucking time.

“I know but you’re bleeding a lot. Don’t want to take you back home in a body bag.”

You didn’t realize you said those words out loud but the concern in his eyes ends up convincing you and you take off your helmet.

“Do it quick”, you mutter and sink below the window, pointing your gun at the entrance of the helicopter, while the strap of your helmet is cutting into your elbow and the night goggles on it dig into your thigh.

“Jesus, it looks really bad”, the captain mutters as he grabs some gauze from his med kit and wraps it around your head with quick and efficient movements. It gets soaked almost immediately.

You don’t really care though; you can’t feel the pain. In fact, you can’t really feel anything. Your body doesn’t feel like your own, you’re practically floating. Maybe it’s because you’re dead.

He finishes and you put your helmet back on.

“Tell me if you’re starting to feel light-headed, okay?”

You nod but don’t plan on actually doing it. Even bandaging your head feels useless.

You can’t exactly die twice, right?

If this is the afterlife it might be likely that he doesn’t know that yet. That he doesn’t know he’s dead, a corpse like you.

For a second you wonder what killed him. You look at the man. He really is a stranger.

You feel bad for not knowing his name but asking would be kind of strange as he addresses you in such a familiar way, so you don’t.

The area doesn’t provide enough light for you to check his name tag on his cammies either, so you just have to go on without knowing. But that’s okay. You probably have a lot of time to get to know him – if this is hell.

Your inner child is starting to whisper, and you have to repress your childhood memories about church, the priest in your hometown and your father’s bible.

You breathe in and out.

The smell that surrounds you reminds you of countless operations you’ve been part of. It reminds you of your team, your friends, him.

Something in your chest hurts.

Your radio crackles, you hear a familiar cockney accent and suddenly you see two bodies burning in the flames outside of the helicopter.

“Alpha 0-2, Bravo 0-7. Building two secure. We’re coming to you.”

The captain responds but you don’t hear his words, just see his lips moving, while you lean against the metal, your fingers gripping your rifle so hard that your knuckles turn white under your gloves.

There’s a ringing in your ears growing louder and louder.

A moment later a shadow towers over you and you look up reflexively, coming face to face with a masked soldier. Two eyes glance at you from behind a skull mask and all you can do is stare back.

His eyes quickly focus on the marine next to you, then he checks the windows, focused as always, a perfect soldier to the bone.

The captain readies his gun and the man next to him follows his lead, pointing his rifle at the tree line on the opposite side of the heli.

You don’t move.

He realizes. And he turns around, staring at you from behind that mask.

“Nomad, get your arse up and help, they’re coming”, he barks.

Slowly you blink. Something stirs in your head.

“Yessir”, you mutter, breathless, and rise to your feet.

You feel like a puppet master, pulling strings to move your body, all of you is slow and heavy, your muscles like lead. But you manage to stand and point your gun towards the tree line.

The next 15 minutes are a blur, a mix of shooting and reloading, killing, the feeling of your finger on the trigger so familiar, your body moves on its own like a well-oiled machine.

All the while your heart is screaming his name and your head replays the last few minutes in the Caucasus Mountains.

Tears well up in your eyes and you blink them away.

He’s dead you think. You both are. You fucking died. You watched him get killed. Helplessly.

The roaring in your head gets louder, accompanying the spray fire of Kilo 0-1 who mows down the troops of the enemy vehicles.  And when the last enemy falls you remain there standing motionless, your grip tight on your rifle, while the others discuss their next movements.

Someone taps your shoulder and points at your head. You lower your night googles and your vision takes a moment to adjust.

A second later, Bravo Team begins to move, and you follow him and the others in a daze, one foot before the other.

Together you move a couple hundred meters, the name “Hassan” falls from several lips, but you have no clue who that man is.

Prey your head helpfully provides.

Before you can think about this sudden thought, you hear a whistle and the man left of you drops like a sack.

SniperGetDown rings in your ears and you dive low, your heartbeat suddenly going 200 per minute.

He’s right there.

A few meters beside you, you can practically feel him and his heart. In this moment, whether it was real or not, whether this was the afterlife or purgatory and you but just a corpse- in this very moment, his heart is beating, alive and strong.

Your finger is on the trigger before you know it, this time you’re ready- your target is right there, you spotted the laser of his rifle and your rifle is in position- this time your bullet will hit- and it does.

Before he can finish his sentence:

“...rest of you stay lo-“

“Sniper down”, you interrupt, your voice foreign to your ears, too weak, too raw.

“Nomad- what are-“

Another shot rings out and yet another soldier in your line falls.

You don’t waste a second, your finger is trigger happy, it’s too important to keep him save, to keep him breathing. If you have to watch him die again…

Someone joins you as you provide cover fire and together, you’re taking out the enemies on the balcony and the roof, bullets whizz past you, even some RPG rockets but you’re too focused on your task to be bothered by it.

A few seconds later Kilo 0-1 sends a spray of gun fire into the property and the building is shaken by explosions – yet it still remains standing, the most of it anyway.

Next thing you know, the soldiers around you are up and running to the building, someone grabs you by the back of your vest and hauls you on your feet, dragging you a bit before you begin to walk on your own.

The skull mask is watching you, the eyes behind it are dark and, in your head, you know exactly how badly he wants to beat your ass right now.

But he lets you go and returns his attention back to the mission.

Lock down the building and find this Hassan- whoever he is, dead or alive.

You follow him, reloading your rifle absent-mindedly while watching his back.

He somehow appears taller.

It’s different a voice in your head whispers, he is- you almost trip on the stairs and the soldier behind you saves you from your fall.

“Watch it, Nomad”, a Scottish voice says and another one rings in your head.

Soap get down!

You blink and grunt in response and the sergeant lets you go. He passes you and readies his rifle to make entry.

Every cell in your body screams to not let him do it but you suddenly feel drowsy and when you finally shake off the feeling, you’re inside the building on first deck, Bravo Team soldiers in front of you while the corpses of the enemy soldiers lay in the rubble around you.

Something’s wrong.

You gun down another hostile and when he and Soap push to the second floor, you follow them, still floating above the ground. But when you walk up the stairs your limbs feel heavy, and your breath is going to fast.

He halts at the door to the side, for a moment his eyes search for you, but in the next, he takes out the man who pushes out the room.

Two shots.

He lets the soldier drop to the ground and then enters the room; gun raised. Soap follows him and you walk up the rest of the stairs.

At the top you have to lean on the wall for a bit. A weight is pressing on your chest, and it hinders your lungs from getting enough air.

“You okay?” a Bravo Team soldier asks. You hum.

Yeah, you’re doing fine. If only the world would stop spinning for a goddamn second.

You blink. The night googles make you woozy, but you don’t take them off, knowing that your eyes would take too long to adjust to the darkness.

You stare out of the entry way to the balcony. You know that there are enemy soldiers left in the building, so you get your shit together.

As soon as you find Hassan it’ll be over. You can hang on a little longer. You’re a soldier, part of taskforce 141, an expert in your field. You went through a lot before, this is nothing. If this is supposed to be hell, it’s a fucking joke.

He walks out of the room and you stand tall again in case he checks on you like he usually would – he doesn’t.

He positions himself before you, letting Soap pass him to walk through the door frame. He guns down the hostile who peeks out of one of the entry ways on the balcony.

Then the Scot goes to the right room, and you move forward, ready to go straight down the balcony but he blocks your path with his hand.

“What do you think you’re doing, rookie?”

That word makes you freeze.

He hasn’t called you that in years and him doing it now, hurts you.

“Why-“ you begin, ready to argue why the fuck he’s acting this way, when Soap emerges from the door way where the enemy had peaked before and gunshots ring out.

“Shit- heads up lads, sneaky little gits are everywhere!”, the Scot curses and sends a spray of bullets down a small hole the wall. You grunt. He almost got shot in the leg. He has to be more careful.

“Move”, you squeeze out between your teeth, and the masked man turns to face you. He peers down at you, his eyes scrutinizing your form.

“You’re following my orders, sergeant. I’m not here to babysit you. So, stand down and don’t pull a move like that again. You’re injured, stay back and don’t hinder us.”

His tone is cold when he references your earlier action of saving his life. You stare at him, trying to find out if you heard correctly. The dark eyes behind the mask stare back with a hard gaze.

You open your mouth, a curse ready to be spilt – since when does he talk to you like that? – but before you can voice your thoughts he walks past you, gun raised, following Soap’s footsteps. You breathe out shakily.

Something is wrong. Something is seriously wrong.

The ringing in your ears returns but you ignore it when the soldier who asked you for your well-being before, waits for you to follow him. Determined you get moving, following the soldier, rifle raised in front of you.

The house is in horrible condition, the onslaught of Kilo 0-1’s gun fire and the explosions destroyed the ceiling, walls and the furniture and, in some corners, the remains of it burn.

The marine pushes up to the door on the left, while he kneels to cover Soap just in case. You bite your lip.

Usually, you would do the clearing with Soap, but this situation is different. There’s a power imbalance somehow and you don’t understand why.

So instead, you follow the soldier and stand behind him, your back against the wall, staring straight at him.

Was it the mask? It was different yes, but his voice and his demeanour- You know it’s him. It has to be him.

Soap passes by you and enters the room, firing his gun, just a millisecond later.

“Threat eliminated”, he announces and guns down the other hostile who peeks through the damaged window.

These words make him move and he walks up to the door frame as well. You remain standing at the wall while the marine makes space for him.

“Poke around, Soap.”

Closing your eyes, you grip your rifle tighter. You’re standing on your feet but the whole world is turning and it’s making you feel nauseous.

The ringing is more intense than ever, and you don’t hear why Bravo Team is moving again but you weakly push yourself off the wall and follow, not realizing that Soap is watching you with worried eyes.

You walk down the stairs, trying to calm your breathing that has turned ragged.

The soldier before you has already left the building when you arrive at the bottom of the stairs and you groan inwardly. Keep up, you shout inwardly.

You experienced worse before, the things you have gone through felt like hell, this in comparison is nothing.

So you push through to the warehouse, jogging to some crates in front of it, your rifle raised, ready for whatever is to come.

Your hands are shaking though, and it costs you immense willpower to keep the gun raised and somewhat steady.

You focus on your breathing and follow him and the others when they begin to move.

You enter the building and a second later- get blinded by the flood lights.

Shots ring out – you can’t see – and Soap shouts something that you can’t understand due to the explosion of a grenade close to you. Groping blindly, you move your night goggles and squint your eyes to adjust to the brightness, but you stumble forward, the sudden loss of your vision is affecting your balance.

It feels like years when you are finally able to make out shapes again, and you rush left behind a crate or whatever it is, holding your rifle up, finger now resting on the trigger.

Another few seconds pass and you’re still partially blinded, red dots dancing over your field of vision. You fall on your ass, leaning against the cold concrete wall to steady yourself.

You’re on a roller coaster, stuck on the looping, the world is turning endlessly. The sounds of fighting accompany your nausea inducing trip and your heartbeat underlines it like a war drum.

It dawns on you now that you really must be in hell – the instances before when you thought about it, you were joking, forming a wall out of sarcasm to protect you from the rising panic and bane of your catholic upbringing.

Your body hurts, your head, your heart – you do have a wound on the side of your head, you are bleeding real blood and the blood loss, and a possible concussion is affecting you.

You take your left hand off your rifle, letting it rest on your thighs, your right hand still holding it, keeping a finger close to the trigger, while you try to open the clasp of your helmet.

You’re shaking too much, and the vertigo makes you miss several times.

When you finally grasp the band, you can barely squeeze your fingers together to open the clasp. Pushing your mic out of the way, you lean forward and shove your helmet off your head.

The bandaged wound on your temple stings and you squeeze your eyes shut, a whimper escaping your mouth.

Why does it feel so real? Is this how you’re tortured? Hurting your body and showing you your loved ones alive and well?

They aren’t real a voice whispers in your head. It’s not them.

You grab your head with both hands. No, it’s not true. It can’t be.

Where’s Roach? You suddenly ask yourself. And Lynx?

Anna is was your best friend in the force, she meant so much to you- she should be here.

Your head hurts so much and the ringing in your ears is so loud that you don’t hear that the fighting has already ceased. Someone grabs your shoulder, the grip is strong but it doesn’t hurt.

“…me? ..omad? ost, Nomad is inju…”

Your head is so heavy.

Fingers apply pressure on your head injury and the touch sends a painful jolt through your body, making you open your eyes.

You blink, trying to stop the blurriness and when you do, you see him.

He stands far back in the shadow of a metal shelf, Soap is closer to you, just behind the marine who’s kneeling in front of you.

The white of his eyes in contrast with the dark makeup around it. The skull peers down at you, his gaze hard, distant, as if he’s looking at a stranger.

Instantly, you realize he’s not your Simon.

He’s a demon, crafted to torture you for eternity, reminding you that you were unable to save him.

Your eyes water.

He’sgonehe’sdeadIlosthim.

You keel forward, alarming the marine and Soap.

“…ey, hey! Stay …wake, don…out!”

Tears spill from your eyes, mixing with the half dried blood on your cheek.

“…’m sorry”, you whimper, gasping for air that isn’t entering your lungs.

You heave like a fish on dry land, You can’t breathe, your brain isn’t getting enough oxygen. You’re dying. Again. Only this time it’s so much worse.

“…anic attack…”, someone grunts, and hands grab you, clinging to you, making your body heavy.

They drag you through the ground into darkness and his name is on your lips when they take you.  

-

Ghost stares at your limp body.

Something is different about you.

Years of combat experience which sharpened his senses and instinct tell him there is something off.

Your reaction before was strange and yes one might say it’s due to your injuries, but he just knows there’s more to it. Somehow, you appear foreign and yet familiar at the same time.

The way you carried yourself was different.

He might be wrong but for him it seemed as if you had lost the jump in your movements, the gait of a rookie.

Hours ago, you had fidgeted with your watch when General Shepherd explained your mission, glancing excitedly and perhaps a bit anxiously at the other task members. Soap had smiled at your demeanour.

Earlier it was different.

The way you handled your rifle, efficient movements, no unnecessary grasp there, no groping for ammunition, just fluid motion, smooth like clockwork. As if you’d done the same for a decade or so. But that’s not true.

And that’s what strange.

But what puzzles him even more was the fact that you called his name- his real name, not his call sign- when you passed out.

What the hell is going on?

[storm-driver]

okay i cant help it anymore, ffxvi spoiler talk up to the events of phoenix gate 2

I am. So entranced by this game.

Clive Rosfield is one of the best RPG protagonists I've ever seen. Arguably one of the best male protagonists ever. It's not even me swooning for him (which I am, he's hot af). But he is just so well written in his current predicaments.

A royal boy thrown into the gutter and having to fight for their life is a trope done before, but this genuinely feels like an undeserved torture for the poor boy, and all you wanna do is see him win a few times. His family was revered, but not because of their royalty alone. Because his father was a genuinely good person and Clive, by extension, was taught by the best. He loves his little brother and wishes so badly he could help Joshua bear the burden of being the Phoenix, and Clive made it his life's goal to be his Shield and keep him safe.

Which, just makes it so much more tragic when Clive ends up being a huge factor in the slaughter of his people, and he has next to no control over it. You pity him so much, because he just doesn't know he's a root in all the strife, including own self-loathing for being unable to save his brother.

It's obvious to the audience, painfully so, that he's Ifrit, and just hasn't realized it. So when Clive himself finally realizes it, after putting on the angsty front for the first few hours, you suddenly realise HOW BAD that must feel. How much he must want to kill himself, after loathing Ifrit and what'd he'd caused for the past 13-years. His family getting slaughtered, mother betraying them all, and then being hoisted into the frontline and branded as a slave.

It's this cacophony of sorrow, and despite it all, Clive is hardly crying for himself. He's always in strife for the sake of others, himself be damned. And on top of that, he has these moments vulnerability where he screams out his hatred and disgust, hatred for himself, and the people who torture his loved ones. He cries openly, begs the torment to end, falls to his knees and prays that whatever torture is happening isn't real.

It's such genuine and real emotion that I seldom have difficulty believing. I am invested in most every emotional moment in this game. Because Clive is such an excellent portrayal of a war-hardened soul who hasn't forgotten how to love others. He still holds onto that humanity that his father taught him, and the innocence that he saw in Joshua.

It's so compelling, especially when it reaches a pique in the ruins of Phoenix Gate, where Clive has to confront his inner demons and properly accept his actions, the truth of what happened that night. That'd he'd murdered many of his own people, including his own brother, in a blind rage that he had no control over. That control of himself, his acceptance of his actions, properly manifesting in the limit break system, where he can finally control Ifrit's power, and he's stronger than he's been before.

It's such good buildup to that moment, because there is no huge bombshell drop to tell the audience "he's Ifrit!!!" You already know that going in, the game doesn't try to hide it at all. Rather the buildup to the acceptance is gradual. Clive venturing through the cruel world he once considered his home. Being treated like crap all because of a mark on his cheek. Realising he is a cause of the strife.

And rather than being overwhelmed by despair and taking his own life, he grabs this deadly power by the reigns and makes it his own. He won't suffer the cruelty of this world anymore, not without fighting back. There's kindness in his heart, but there's a raging fire there, too. Burning hot after 13 long years of suffering under his own guilt, grief, and hatred. A stubborn flame that flickers, but never dies.

[fixfoxnox]

Something In The Orange - Part 17

Description: The 141 raid Makarov's compound

Warnings: Violence, Graphic Violence, Makarov being Creepy, Implied non-con (Sorta? Like threats are made that imply it)

Note: I am also uploading this fic to my Ao3 if you would prefer to read it there

Word Count: 8.9k

"Cause this ship is sinking past the whiskey

Give me my last cigarette

Tell my mother not to worry

Oh, my friends, this is the end, this is the end"

"This Is the End" - The Ghost of Paul Revere

“Captain, we’re almost there,” Nikolai’s voice rang through the small chopper, “Your team will have to move quickly though, the other pilots tell me they’re coming under RPG fire.”

Price nodded to the man, “Right, just get us in as close as you can. Thanks for this Nik.” The two shared a brief smile before Price was turning back to the other members of the 141, his eyes scanning over their serious faces, “Ready lads?”

“As I’ll ever be, Captain,” Gaz responded back immediately, a look of determination on his face as he checked over his gun once again. 

Price let his eyes stray over to Ghost and Soap. The men sat close to one another and, based on the way that their fingers were slightly tangled together, he could assume that the two had been giving each other comfort for the entire ride. He wasn’t surprised, they’d both seemed on edge when they were loading up. He knew that the two were worried about Roach. 

“Lads?” He called to them after a moment. He caught Soap’s gaze, then Ghosts, “We’re gonna get him outta there, alright?”

“Right,” Soap responded after a moment, his voice low. It built up in confidence with his next words, “We’re going to get him out of there. And we’re going to kill that fucking asshole Makarov.” 

Price gave him a half smile, “Tha’s the spirit,” his eyes turned to Ghost, searching for the assurance that he needed so that he would know that the other man would be able to make it through the mission. That assurance came in the form of a confident nod. Price gave him one in return. He knew that he’d be alright. 

“Thirty seconds to drop,” Nikolai called at the front of the chopper. 

Price could already hear gunfire and explosions from outside of the chopper, fighting had already started beneath them. He knew that the team was about to find themselves in deep hell. He also knew that it was going to be ridiculously hard for the team to find Roach or Makarov in the craziness of the field below. 

He didn’t let it get to his head. Instead, he took a deep breath as he and the team hooked into the ropes on the chopper, holding tight as Nikolai’s movement grew a little wild in the air as he got them closer and closer to the ground. He took another deep breath, reminding himself that, after weeks of feeling helpless, he was finally going to bring his team back to safety and put an end to the man who had caused so much strife to himself and the men around him. 

Nikolai gave the word. The team dropped down into the chaos.

Roach stayed at his window for several minutes, listening with excitement as chaos reigned around him. He let out a joyous laugh as he began to hear the chaos right outside of his door in the building. He knew he would need to start moving soon. He had so much to do. Still, he gave himself a moment to relish in the fact that he’d actually done it. He’d actually fucking done it. 

A hand came to cover his face slightly as laughter escaped his mouth. He wished that, in that moment, he had been by Makarov’s side when the chaos started. He wanted to see the man’s face. He wanted to see the man realize he’d been outplayed. That somehow, someway, Roach had tricked him. 

He let himself excitedly pace around in front of his window for a moment, excitement thrumming through his veins. The next few hours were, no doubt, going to be pure chaos for himself. He needed to get his head on straight. 

He knew that one of the first things he would need to do is try to get communication up with Price somehow. That was going to be easier said than done. No doubt that there were several different channels of communication going on between the invading soldiers. It would take him several different sweeps to actually find out which channel the 141 was on. That, in itself, would take time. 

Besides that, he also recognized the more pressing matter. There was no doubt in his mind that Makarov would be looking to escape from the base as soon as possible. He would likely be traveling with a small group of guards and he would be moving quick. Roach had a decent idea of where the man would go and he knew that with all the chaos, it would take Makarov time to get there, but still, he’d prefer not to take any chances of the man escaping. 

Eventually, he decided that his best bet was going to be to go after Makarov by himself. Finding communication with Price would have to come as an afterthought, something that, if he saw availability for while chasing down the terrorist, he would take. Otherwise, he wouldn’t seek it out. 

Roach took a glance at the metal band around his wrist. There was a feeling that pricked at the back of his mind, reminding him of what he’d accepted for himself. He ignored it. With one last look out the window to the mountains outside, Roach turned, prepared to make his way out of the room with nothing but his own hands to defend himself. 

The door to the room opened before he could reach it, a man stepped in and closed the door behind him carefully. He had a handgun pointed carefully at Roach, “Don’t move.”

Roach froze, his hands moving up to a position of surrender. He eyed the gun nervously, this was not good. “Dr. Petrov,” he acknowledged carefully, “What’s going on? I heard the explosions and now it sounds like a war is going on outside.”

“Don’t,” Dr. Petrov gave him a hard look, “I am not fooled by you Sergeant. My nephew might have been, but I see the truth.”

Roach resisted the urge to take a step away from the man. This was not what he needed to be dealing with, but he knew that the likelihood of Petrov letting him leave the room, or even live for that matter, was quite low. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Roach tried to keep his voice even.

“That little bump I felt in your wrist,” Petrov took a step closer, “it wasn’t metal from a break, it was a tracker wasn’t it? That’s how your friends found us here.”

Roach pursed his lips. He had very few options available to him and he needed to move. He slowly lowered his hands, his eyes darting around the room as he tried to figure out what to do. He wished desperately that Makarov would have allowed him to store the gun he’d been given in his room, but it seemed the man still hadn’t trusted him enough to allow that. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Dr. Petrov tilted his head, his eyes narrowed at Roach.

“Yes,” Roach met his gaze, “It’s a tracker in my wrist.” He paused a moment, tilting his head at Petrov. The man looked nervous, the gun in his hand shaking slightly. It was obvious to Roach that the man had likely only held a weapon in his hands a few times before. It was also obvious to him that the man likely hadn’t ever killed anyone. “What will you do now?”

Petrov hesitated, the tip of the gun lowering slightly. Roach watched emotions conflict on his face, “I’ll,” the man stumbled over his words, “You can’t leave.”

Roach gave a slow nod. He looked thoughtfully at the ceiling and folded his arms across his chest, “We have a bit of a problem then,” he looked back to the doctor, “How do you plan to keep me in here?”

Petrov motioned to the gun, “You’re unarmed.”

“Yes,” Roach took a step toward the Doctor, “But, my understanding is that Makarov has a no-kill order on me.” He tilted his head at the man as he stepped closer, “Are you going to kill me if I try to leave the room?” He continued taking slow steps toward the man, “Makarov probably won’t like that.”

“He won’t kill me,” Petrov said. His words weren’t confident. Roach knew he was doubting things. The gun drooped even further.

“Oh, really?” Roach made a clicking noise with his tongue, “Well, I’m sure you’re right.” He was close now, close enough that it would only take a quick lunge forward to wrap his hands around the gun. He stayed where he was, he had to play his cards right. There was a moment of quiet that hung in the air before Roach asked, “Have you ever killed anyone, Doctor?”

The man didn’t answer, but Roach could see from the look on his face that he was thrown off by the question. His face had gone a bit red and he could see sweat forming on his brow. He was almost shaking. All Roach needed to do was push a little harder. 

“Do you know what it feels like to kill someone?” Roach tilted his head at him, “To have blood spill out from someone’s skin because of your own actions? To see the life leave their eyes? To live with the knowledge that you were the one to end someone’s time on this earth? It haunts you. You’ll never forget it.”

There was quiet. Roach could hear the Doctor’s shaky breaths, he could see the way the other man’s hands shook. Petrov was a Doctor, he was meant to heal people, not hurt them. Roach knew that. Petrov knew that. The man’s finger briefly left the trigger, Roach took the opportunity. 

He leapt quickly, closing the space between them as his hands grabbed at the end of the gun, jerking the weapon to the side so that it would no longer be facing him. There was a struggle, both men grappling for the weapon with all of their strength.

Roach did what he could to keep the Doctor’s fingers away from the trigger, It was difficult work with the way that his hands were forced to twist unnaturally in order to keep his grip on the weapon. He kept pushing, slowly gaining ground with the weapon. There was a slip then, his hands just slightly missing the way that the new angle gave the Doctor an opening for the trigger. 

The bang of a gunshot filled the room. Roach felt nothing, so he kept pushing. Petrov, on the other hand, froze at the sound. He obviously hadn’t expected to actually pull the trigger. It allowed Roach enough of a break that he could easily extract the weapon from the man in front of him. 

He took several steps back, a sense of victory taking over his mind as he pointed the weapon at the man in front of him. Dr. Petrov didn’t react, he only stared. “Get out of the way,” Roach ordered, “I’m leaving.”

Petrov seemed to snap out of his stupor. His eyes met Roach’s, wide and horrified, but with a newfound sense of surety in them, that was clear to see. “With a wound like that?”

Roach raised an eyebrow at the man. Sure, his stab wound was stinging slightly from the movement, but he was sure that he’d be able to move around quite easily. It wasn’t like he was…

He felt the sting against his thigh first. His eyes tracked downward and he almost sighed as he spotted the blood seeping from his thigh. The wound wasn’t too bad, it looked like the bullet had cut through the side of his leg, leaving a gnarly gash, but nothing worse. It was going to hurt like hell to move on, but he knew that he didn’t have much of a choice. He could only hope that adrenaline would help to numb the pain.

He looked back up at the Doctor again, determination clear on his face, “Out of my way,” he ordered again. Roach could see the look on the other man’s face, he could tell what he was thinking. “Don’t,” he warned, “It won’t go well for you. I’m only going to give you the one chance.”

The air between the two was thick. There was a moment of pause as they waited to see what the other would do. Roach hoped, for the other man’s sake, that he would do as he asked and move out of his way. If he let him leave, that would be it. There wouldn’t have to be any more blood shed in the room. If he didn’t, well, Roach meant what he said about only giving the man the one chance.

The silence seemed to drag on, anticipation and nerves filling Roach’s veins until he was moving to shuffle forward slightly, slowly moving toward the door. It was his movement that sparked the shout from the Doctor as he lunged. 

There was another gunshot, Petrov’s body dropped to the floor. Roach grit his teeth as he stared down at the man’s bleeding and whimpering form. He moved toward the door, stopping beside him to look down at his face.

“I am sorry,” Roach said, “You helped me a lot while I was here. I appreciate everything that you’ve done for me.” He tilted his head at the man, he considered him for a moment, a thought coming to his mind. “You did the best you could with Makarov,” he told him after a moment. It was a branch of kindness, a brief reassurance to a man who had so obviously been beating himself up for years. “You were good to him, but some things just couldn’t be helped. Trust me, I speak from experience.” He brought the gun up and delivered another shot, this time to the man’s temple. 

He looked away from the now-still body on the floor, his eyes closing as he tried to reassure himself about what he was going to do. He was in too deep. He was going to kill Makarov. 

He gave himself a nod and a deep calming breath before moving to the door, carefully opening it until he could see the chaos right outside of his room. 

There were men rushing around, the second floor of the house practically abandoned as gunfire rung out on the first floor. It was clear to Roach that the Russian and American joint forces had already worked their way up to the house, though he knew that gunfights were likely still going on further into the base. 

He crept out of his room, peering over the edge of the railing of the second floor to pick off four men who were hidden behind cover down below him. It seemed to be the help that the outside forces needed as soon there were men sweeping into the house, their weapons pointed all around. Roach caught sight of the American patch on one of them and moved out of his hiding place.

He kept his hands high as he called out, “Bluebird, bluebird!” It caught the attention of one of the men, his eyes darting up the stairs. 

“Identify yourself,” he called out, his gun trained on Roach.

“Sergeant Gary Sanderson of the 141,” Roach called back to him. He saw recognition cross the man’s face and he watched his weapon lower slightly. 

Roach started down the stairs toward him carefully, “You’re Sergeant Sanderson?”

“Yes,” he nodded to the man, “Listen I need a weapon and a communicator if you have a spare.” He pointed in the direction of the field of tanks, “You need to get troops over there soon before the ultranationalists get things functional over there. They have a practical army of tanks.”

The man called out to someone behind him and, after a moment, an automatic weapon and extra ammo were placed in Roach’s hands. Roach tucked the extra ammo into his pants, checking the weapon handed to him with satisfaction. “Here, take my communicator. Your team should be on channel eight,” the man carefully removed the wires and communication pack attached to his uniform. 

“Thank you,” Roach pulled the communicator pack over his shoulders so that it could rest across his chest like a sash. He gave the earpiece a quick wipe down before attaching it to his own ear. He could hear muttering from the current channel that he was on, but he paid it no mind. 

“No problem,” The man nodded to him, “Anything else we should be warned about?”

“Tell your pilots to watch the skies,” Roach told him, “If they see any sort of aircraft go up, it needs to come down. No matter what.” Roach gave him a quick pat on the shoulder before taking off to the outside of the building.

He moved as quickly as he could with his injuries, cursing his luck quietly. He clicked through the channels on the communicator as he ran, listening carefully as he fiddled with the thing, putting it on what he could only hope was channel eight. He paused a moment, trying to wait for someone else to speak. He gave up after a moment and tapped in, “Price? Can you hear me?”

The response on the line was chaotic, several voices ringing out in his ear.

“Roach?”

“Bug, fuck are you okay?”

“Holy shit, Roach! Where the fuck are you?”

A sigh of relief, “Bug.” 

“Fuck, one at a time guys,” Roach called over the comms, amusement forming in his chest despite the situation around him. He ducked behind a building, dodging gunfire that he suddenly found aimed at him. He peeked around the corner, delivering two shots. “I’m alright,” he added, “I’ve got a weapon.”

“Where are you?” That was Price’s voice, laced with clear concern. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Roach responded, his voice delving into grunts for a second as he smacked a man who’d turned the corner with the end of his weapon. He quickly turned it around, giving the man two shots to the chest before stepping over his body, “Price, you need to get to the airfield. It’s to the northeast, Makarov is headed there and he’s no doubt got a chopper to get him the hell out of here.”

“Right,” Price responded carefully, “You meet back up with the team-”

“No,” Roach cut him off, “I’m on my way to the airfield now.”

“Roach,” Price’s voice was low, “Aren’t you injured?”

Roach didn’t know how the man had known that. He ignored it, “Not enough that I can’t pull a trigger,” he responded quickly, “I’m not sitting this out. Meet me at the airfield, I’ll try and buy time if I need to. Going dark.” he flipped his comms off before anyone could argue, his legs pumping as he pushed himself toward the airfield. 

It was a fairly decent distance to the airfield, so Roach pushed himself harder. Moving at any sort of quick speed was proving to be quite painful for him thanks to his stab wound and the new gunshot wound on his thigh, but he kept pressing himself forward. He was sure that, when things settles, he’d have ripped the stitches at his side once again. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

He realized, as he stopped to rest behind the cover of one of the buildings, that he wasn’t going to be able to keep up his current speed. He was out of breath and it was taking everything that he had not to keel over from the pain. If he wanted to make it to the airfield in time to stop Makarov and be in good enough health that he could potentially stop the man, he was going to need to figure something else out. 

He looked around the corner of the building that he was hidden behind, observing the battlefield in front of him for any sort of aid that he could use. He didn’t spot anything, but, after observing his surroundings, he suddenly found himself realizing that his body had brought him to a stop right outside of one of the garages that housed various jeeps for off-base travel. 

He almost couldn’t believe it, but he tried not to look into things too hard. He sent a quick thanks to lady luck, probably the first time he’d ever done that in either of his lives, before slowly beginning to trek his way around the side of the building and toward the side entrance in front of him. 

He knew that there were likely going to be men waiting inside, either hiding out or getting themselves set up with the vehicles, so he didn’t bother attempting to open the door quietly. Instead, he bashed his gun onto the door, watching it fly open in front of him as he turned his weapon on the men who were unfortunate enough to find themselves in his sight lines. He delivered three shots to three men directly in front of him, before ducking down and sliding himself over to hide behind a supply box as bullets rang out to where he’d just been. He didn’t have any sort of explosives, smoke grenades, or flashbangs on him, so he knew he was going to have to take this next part fairly slowly. 

The first thing to do was to get a lay of what he was dealing with. He, ever so slowly, moved his head to peer around the edge of the box, jerking back quickly as another round of gunfire came toward him. He’d spotted four men on that side of the box, so he focused his attention there. 

He moved into a crouched position, his thigh screaming in protest but his entire body ready to spring forward the moment he gave the command. He waited, listening cautiously to the men call things out in harsh Russian. He didn’t move until he heard several of the men begin speaking at once, knowing that they were, at the least, slightly distracted by the speech. 

He moved out quickly, shooting three of the four men he’d seen as he darted across to take cover behind a vehicle. He noted three other men as well. Once he was safely behind the jeep, he carefully peered inside, noting with satisfaction the keys that were hung on the sun visor. All that he needed now was to get the door to the garage open and he could make his escape. The unfortunate thing for him was that the button to open the garage was located at the direct center of the backside wall, meaning he would somehow have to push the men in the garage back enough that he could get to it. 

He looked around, his eyes scanning for anything that he could possibly use to help himself. There was nothing close to him, and he let out a deep sigh, trying to consider his options. If he had a suppressor or a knife, he could potentially move around the room quietly enough that the men would lose track of him and he could pick them off one by one.

His mind moved briefly to the members of the 141. He desperately hoped that Soap and Ghost were faring better than he was. “Holy shit,” he muttered to himself, his mind providing him with a memory of one of Soap’s various rants in the cafeteria. He’d been talking about his time in Las Almas when he’d been forced to fashion weapons out of basic things in order to survive. Roach distinctly remembered the way that Soap had explained using pieces of scrap metal and tape to create a shiv for quick use.

His eyes darted around him and, sure enough, he was able to spot a sharp bit of scrap metal. He was careful as he moved to grab it, holding it loosely enough in his hands that he wouldn’t cut himself. There was a moment where he looked down at his clothes, trying to determine what he could lose to use as wrapping on the weapon. His eyes kept landing on his scarf, but a part of him screamed at the idea of it getting torn. Still, he didn’t have anything better, so after another moment of debate, he pulled the fabric from his belt loop. 

He carefully wrapped the scarf around, trying to remind himself that if it tore, surely Jackson’s grandmother could repair it for him. After a moment, he was holding his makeshift knife in his hands, a sense of satisfaction coming over him as he flipped it through his fingers breifly. 

There were footsteps slowly nearing him and he knew that he couldn’t sit still any longer or he’d have several men upon him. With that in mind, he began slowly shuffling around the edge of the jeep, his eyes watching closely as he carefully crept around the room. He was looking for any of the men who appeared to be vulnerable enough for him to take out. He found his target on almost the complete opposite side of the garage. 

It was a bit of a move, and by the time he was halfway there, he could hear one of the men calling something out, likely reporting that he was no longer behind the jeep and that the men needed to keep their eyes out. He managed to roll under one of the vehicles just as someone turned the corner in between the two vehicles he’d been at. He rolled out on the other side, carefully moving around the side of the jeep and back towards the front, waiting patiently. 

He stayed silent and perfectly still until he saw a flash of fabric. At that moment, he lunged forward, slamming his makeshift knife into the shin of the man in front of him. When the man doubled over at the pain, Roach pulled the metal back out, shifting it expertly in his hands so that he could slam it up into the man’s neck. He pulled him to the ground quickly, pulling an actual knife from the man’s side and tucking it into his belt. He delivered several shots to a few men who had run toward the noise, only hitting two of them before darting back to hide in the maze of jeeps. 

He carefully moved around the vehicles, keeping his footsteps silent as he approached another soldier from behind, both the knife he’d taken from the man and his makeshift knife held firmly in each of his hands. He could hear nervous muttering around the garage as the men realized they’d lost sight of him again. He didn’t wait to strike this time. 

He darted out from behind the jeep he was at, quickly stabbing the man in the shoulder with one of the knives before using the metal to turn him so that he could quickly slide the other across his neck. He let the man’s body fall to the floor as he darted toward the jeeps lined up by the back wall. Again, he heard men come toward his location, but, by the time they arrived, he’d already moved further up. 

Their words grew more frantic as Roach was finally able to smack the button to open the garage doors. Immediately the entire garage was exposed to the gunfire going on outside, some of the American and Russian Joint Taskforce soldiers noticing the sudden opening of the building and turning their fire inside. 

Roach didn’t bother trying to stay stealthy anymore as gunfire rang around him. He kept low as he moved, trying to avoid being shot as he made his way quickly back to the jeep he’d picked out earlier. Along his path, he gave several shots to three men who were blocking his way. He tucked both the actual knife and his makeshift one into his pants again as he climbed into the jeep, his gun tossed into the passenger seat beside him. He quickly grabbed the keys, keeping his head low as he turned the jeep on. He didn’t waste any time before speeding out of the garage, steering himself toward the airfield. 

His driving was, admittedly, quite reckless. He was swerving through what was essentially a battlefield, he knew that he needed to give himself a bit of wiggle room. Still, his body threatened to fall out of the vehicle with every harsh turn that he made to avoid gunfire that sprayed at him. 

Somewhere along the line, he realized that his weapon had been flung out of the vehicle, he kept driving, he didn’t have time to stop for it. As the vehicle drew closer and closer to the airfield, he could see the fighting thinning out. There were several dead bodies along the path and Roach knew that they were from the man that he was currently chasing after. 

As he grew closer and closer, he could see the chopper, men loading into the small thing as someone, no doubt the pilot, quickly walked around the vehicle to check things over. Roach realized, with horrifying clarity, as he watched the man load into the chopper that he wasn’t going to make it in time. His vehicle came skidding to a stop just beside the only building at the airfield.

He jumped out of the vehicle as the chopper took off into the air, horror growing in his chest as he looked up at it. Quickly, he turned back on his comms, “Price, we have an issue. Makarov’s chopper is taking off from the airfield, if you have any communication with any pilots you need to tell them to shoot the fucking thing down!”

“On it,” Was the only reply that Roach got. He stood, watching carefully as the chopper continued to rise in the air.

“Come on,” he muttered to himself, rage burning in his system. If Makarov got away, if he was too late…he couldn’t think about what he would do. 

There was a streak across the sky. Roach heard it hit. He covered his eyes as an explosion rocked the air around him and the chopper came tumbling down toward the ground, hitting with a forceful and fiery impact. He took a step closer to it, satisfaction burning in his chest as he noticed no movement from the wreckage. 

He remembered then, confusion filling his brain with fog as he looked down at the little bit of metal on his wrist, “They got it,” he reported over his comms. If Makarov was dead, then why wasn’t he…? “Guys,” he started, “I don’t think Makarov was on the chopper.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I just, have a feeling,” He rubbed at his wrist, his eyes returning to the wreckage, “Listen, just stick by the plan and meet me at the airfield. I have a bad-” 

He froze. A shaky breath left his lips as he felt the barrel of a gun dig into his lower back. “Turn off your communicator, Insect. And turn around very slowly for me.” 

There was a moment when Roach felt like he couldn’t breathe. Like he couldn’t move. The air around him felt thick as he realized that he’d been caught out. He’d been caught out and now, the likelihood was that he was going to die. His hand moved up to flick off his communicator at that thought. If he was going to die, he wasn’t going to make the other members of the 141 listen. 

He turned slowly, his feet shuffling slightly until he was facing Makarov, the man looking no worse for wear than he did the last time Roach had seen him. There wasn’t even sweat on the man’s skin. Roach clenched his jaw at the thought that getting to the airfield had been easy for him. 

“Well,” Makarov started, peering over Roach’s shoulder to the crash as he spoke, “I do have to thank you. I’d planned to have you kill those men eventually. I suppose this was one way to have it done.” Roach felt sick to his stomach as the man fixed him with an easy smirk. “This was all very clever of you, Insect. I do have to ask, how did you get your location to the Americans?”

Roach held up his wrist numbly, “You weren’t the only one with the idea for a tracker.”

Makarov gave a tutting noise, “Hmm, how very clever of you. I can assume, as well, that Captain Price isn’t actually dead?” Roach could see the way the other man’s hand tightened on the gun. He only gave a nod in response. Makarov turned away briefly and Roach could see the frustration and rage that painted his face, though it was gone within the next moment. “Of course. Well, we’ll have plenty of time to rectify that. For now,” he paused, looking over Roach’s figure, “I want you to take that knife from your belt and cut the tracker from your wrist.”

There was a moment of silence as Roach gaped at the man. He was completely taken aback by the request. He couldn’t understand why it would matter to Makarov if he had a tracker in his wrist when he was dead. After a moment, he meekly asked, “What?”

Makarov tilted his head at him, amusement clear to see on his face. He was obviously enjoying Roach’s confusion as well as that bit of terror that had seeped into his voice. “Take that knife,” Makarov motioned to his belt, “And cut the tracker from your wrist.”

“I don’t,” Roach took a fumbled step back, Makarov followed, “I don’t understand. Aren’t you going to-?”

“Kill you?” Makarov tilted his head at him, his lips slowly stretching into a grin, “Oh, Insect, you still don’t quite understand what you mean to me, do you?” Makarov stepped closer, Roach froze in his place. The man reached out cautiously, pulling the makeshift knife from his belt and throwing it away, his scarf still attached. He pulled the actual knife next, holding it up for Roach to see, “You’re coming with me. So we need that tracker gone.” He tilted his head, “And either you can cut it out yourself, or I can knock you out and cut it out myself.”

Roach stared at the man, wide-eyed, his hands were shaking again. He hated it. He hated this. He couldn’t understand why he could never fight back against the man, “You’ll kill me,” he offered weakly, “You’ll kill me when this is all over.”

Makarov shook his head, “I won’t. There will be a punishment, naturally, but you will live.”

Roach shook his head, “No,” he took another step back, Makarov dropped the knife and grabbed his wrist, pressing the gun into his abdomen, right over his stab wound. He winced at the pressure. “I killed Dr. Petrov,” he offered. He would rather die than go with the man in front of him. 

He saw a small pass of something sour on the other man’s face, a bit of love that he perhaps held for his uncle shining through. It faded rather quickly, “I don’t care. Pick up the knife.”

He released Roach’s wrist, taking a step back, that smug look back on his face. Roach wanted to cry and scream. He wasn’t going with Makarov again. He wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it. He would rather die. He would die.

He didn’t bother with the knife, didn’t even try for it. Instead, he moved forward, taking one quick step up and knocking the gun to the side. He supposed it was the absolute stupidity of his movement that managed to keep him from getting shot. Either way, he was able to slam his fist into the side of Makarov’s face before the other man could react. 

The gun fell from Makarov’s hand at the impact, his form stumbling back a bit. Roach dropped for the gun, trying to grab it before the other man recovered. His hands only managed to get a slight grasp on it before he was met with a foot swinging up to slam into his face. He fell back against the grass of the airfield. Makarov kicked the gun away. 

Roach blindly grasped out to the side of him as Makarov came to straddle his legs. His hands managed to grab onto the knife, swinging it up at the man in front of him. He managed to catch him in the shoulder with the knife, a grunt of pain leaving Makarov’s mouth as he slammed his fist against Roach’s chest, knocking the air from his lungs. There was a small cracking noise at the impact and soon Roach was gasping helplessly. 

Makarov grit his teeth as he pulled the knife from his shoulder. He flipped the blade around in his hands, pressing it against Roach’s neck just enough to draw a bit of blood. He grinned at him, “Insect, knives are so impersonal.” His tone was scolding, “It’s so much more intimate to use your hands.” He tossed the knife away, lunging for his throat with his hands. 

Roach reacted quickly slamming one of his hands up to catch against Makarov’s throat in a way that left the other man panting. He was able to use the momentary distraction to flip the man off of him and crawl on top instead. 

His hands beat down madly, aimed solely at the face of the man in front of him. He managed to catch Makarov’s face a few times before he was able to bring his hands up to block him. Roach noted with sick glee the cracking noise that he heard when his fist had connected with Makarov’s nose. He’d no doubt broken it. A bit of payback, he distantly thought. 

Suddenly, there was a hand in his hair, yanking him down so that his skull would connect with Makarov’s. He let out a groan, a dizzying feeling taking over his mind for a moment as he fell slightly off balance. Makarov clearly wasn’t as effected as he jerked up, slamming his head once again into Roach’s nose. 

Roach was knocked back down to the ground, his head spinning as he distantly registered the fact that he was bleeding. Beside him, Makarov managed to shakily stand from the ground, his eyes coming to land on Roach’s sprawled out form. He stepped over him, a hum leaving his lips as he leaned down with a grin. 

Roach knew what he was going to do before the hand was even at his side. It didn’t stop him from screaming out as the stitches at his side were, once again, violently ripped open. Tears spilled from his eyes as, a second later, Makarov’s other hand found the gunshot wound on his thigh, his fingers digging in. Roach screamed. Makarov gave a joyful laugh. 

“Did, Dr. Petrov do this, Insect? It is good you killed him then,” his fingers curled into the torn flesh, digging harder, “I am the only one allowed to hurt you.” His words were growled out as Roach’s vision nearly went white with the pain. Suddenly, the fingers were gone, Makarov stood taller again. Roach gasped out from the pain, choked sobs wrecking his system. He felt like he couldn’t function in the slightest, but, through his tears, he was able to look up at the man above him. “You look so perfect when you cry, Insect.” Makarov reached down, catching one of Roach’s tears with his fingers. 

Roach managed to push himself up to his knees, a feat considering his body felt like it was on fire, “Just fucking kill me!” He shouted between his sobs, “Kill me!”

Makarov gave a laugh in response, “Oh, not a chance, dear.” There was a hand in Roach’s hair again, gripping tight. Roach let out another scream as he was dragged forward, his feet kicking out behind him as the painful sensation of hair being tugged and feeling as though it was ripping from his scalp came through his body. 

After a few moments he was dropped to the ground again, his body hunched forward as he tried to fight the waves of black that took him over. He only had a moment of peace before Makarov was pulling him back up from the ground and capturing his wrist, the one with the tracker in it. 

Roach didn’t realize what was going on until he felt the knife carefully dig into the skin of his wrist. He couldn’t even bother to scream again as blood spilled over his wrist. Despite his wild movements to try to get away, Makarov’s movements remained smooth as he cut away a little piece of Roach’s skin, digging in slightly with the knife before extracting a small black object. “There we are,” He hummed, tossing the knife off to the side again. 

He dropped Roach back to the ground. Roach still felt tears falling from his eyes. His body felt weak and pain lit up nearly every part of him. As Makarov stood, dusting himself off, Roach started weakly crawling away, trying desperately to get as far from the man behind him as he could. He was stopped with a scoff and a rough kick to his side that knocked him onto his back. 

“Now, now, that’s not the way that we’re going.” Makarov came to a squat next to him, “Are you going to behave for me?”

Roach didn’t even think before responding, “Fuck you,” he spat a glob of blood and spit at the man’s feet. 

Makarov gave a bit of a nod, amusement clear on his face as he stood back up, “You are very stubborn, you know. It seems it will take more than I suspected to clip your wings.” He placed one of his legs against the wound on Roach’s thigh, dragging it down harshly to hover over his knee, slight pressure being placed there. Roach was violently reminded of what the man had done in that church in Brazil. “Perhaps,” Makarov placed more pressure, Roach gave a gasp, “Perhaps a broken leg would do it?”

Roach waited, his breathing heavy, for the pain. It didn’t come. Instead, Makarov moved his foot back to the ground, “No,” he hummed and dropped back into a squat, “I am too kind for that.” His hand reached out to violently grab at Roach’s chin, “You will learn, Insect, I am a very,” his hand dragged down to his neck, “very forgiving man.”

Roach felt that familiar disgust pool in his stomach and rise in his throat. He jerked away from Makarov’s touch, once again trying to crawl away from the man. Makarov let him move a few feet, following behind him carefully before he dropped to his knee’s behind him, wrapping an arm around his middle and using it to haul Roach up so that his back was pressed tightly against his front. 

A hand came up to his neck again, almost lovingly caressing the skin there. Roach struggled as much as his body would allow, he was quickly stopped with a hand under his shirt, dipping into his stab wound once again. He gave another cry as Makarov gave what was meant to be a soothing coo against his ear. 

“I am going to help you sleep,” Makarov whispered into his ear, his other hand sliding just under the waistband of his pants to press against the bullet wound at his thigh, “You’ll travel easier that way,” he pulled Roach closer to him, “It will help satiate me until you are able to wake up. Then I’ll finish giving you your punishment.” His face nuzzled into his neck. Roach was certain he was going to puke. 

The hands against his skin were gone within the next second and Roach was roughly shoved to the ground, his body flipped over so that he was resting on his back, staring at the sky. He noted distantly how pretty the clouds looked. 

Makarov was on him in the next second, his hand grazing softly against his neck before they were pressing down painfully, cutting off his airway. Roach wanted to struggle, his mind begged him to struggle. He wouldn’t move though. It was like his body had given up, completely frozen with the knowledge that, despite tricking Makarov, despite everything he’d done, he was going to end up right back where he’d begun. 

Tears continued slipping from his eyes as his vision slowly became filled with black dots. His mind was numb with the inability to think. His vision blacked out completely.

“That’s it,” Price’s voice was desperate as his eyes finally locked on to the airfield. He was out of breath, but he knew that he had to keep moving. Something was wrong with Roach, he’d been caught. His comms had gone dead. They had to keep moving. They had to get to him.

Beside him, Ghost gave a nod. They started moving forward again, their movement methodical as they worked together to head toward the large open field. They could see the smoke from the chopper crash, but they still couldn’t quite see the crash. 

There was hardly any sort of forces there to stop them around the field, but they stayed vigilant, moving slowly around the large buildings that lined the path that they were on. 

They stepped over piles of bodies, some their men, some Makarov’s. It didn’t matter, all that mattered was getting to Roach. Price, as he and Ghost moved past the last of the buildings, reached up and switched on his comms. He began a quick report to Soap and Gaz, “Lads, Ghost and I are nearing the airfield. Be aware-”

A loud, bloodcurdling scream cut him off. Both he and Ghost froze, their eyes shooting to one another as they recognized that the scream had come from the airfield. Price could see the look in Ghost’s eyes. They didn’t have to speak, they both knew. They both took off into a sprint, the comms forgotten as the voices of Soap and Gaz buzzed in their ears, asking for confirmation that they were alright. 

Though they were close to the airfield, it still took them minutes of running before they were finally in a position where they could see what was going on. Price felt his heart drop to his stomach as he caught sight of Roach.

Makarov was on top of him, his hands pressed tightly against his neck. There was a wild grin on the terrorist's face as he choked Roach out. Price noted with growing fear and anger all of the blood that was coating Roach. He didn’t think of anything other than helping Roach when he pulled the gun from his side.

He took aim, instinct taking over. He pulled the trigger. Blood splattered from Makarov’s neck.

Suddenly, there was air. His chest jerked with the flow of it into his lungs, his face covered with blood splatter that wasn’t his own. He didn’t even register that he was pushing a groaning body off of his own, his body was finally motivated to move as he took in gasping breaths. 

He scrambled backward, as far away as he could get from Makarov’s groaning body. He needed to go. He needed to get away before Makarov got back up. He had to move. He had to move. He had to move. 

There were hands on his shoulders. He screamed, trying to fight the person off. It wasn’t until he heard the voice that his body finally stopped, relaxing against the hands that pressed warmly against his skin, “Roach, Roach! It’s me, calm down, Bug, calm.” 

Roach looked up, his eyes catching onto the white of Ghost’s skull mask before finally meeting his eyes. He knew, based on the way that Ghost was looking at him, that he probably looked like shit. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about the pain either, not when he could finally throw his body against Ghosts with a sob. 

There were warm hands rubbing against his arms, he buried his face into Ghost’s chest. “Breathe, Bug,” Roach managed to catch around his wracked-out sobs. 

“How is he?” Roach could hear Captain Price ask over Ghost’s shoulder.

“I’m alive,” Roach managed to sob out, “I’m fucking…I fucking made it.” He wanted to scream. He wanted to cheer. He felt like he could soar at that moment. A thought struck him, “Soap? Where’s Soap?” He pulled away from Ghost’s chest to look up at him pleadingly.

“He’s fine, Bug.”

“And Gaz?” He asked, his eyes darting between Captain Price and Ghost, “Fuck, tell me he doesn’t still want me dead?”

“None of us want you dead,” Ghost responded. 

“Him, however,” Price added, his face turning harsh as he turned back to look at the gasping figure of Makarov on the ground. He approached him slowly, Roach motioned for Ghost to help him up. 

In another moment, Roach was hobbling over, likely held up mostly by Ghost’s strength, all so that he could stand over Makarov. He admired the red that poured from the man’s shoulder, right at the beginning of his neck. It was a satisfying sight to go with the blood on his face and the stab wound Roach had given him at his shoulder. 

Makarov was choking slightly, but he still managed to grin and laugh up at the men over him, “Captain Price,” he managed to get out, “I should have expected nothing less.” 

“This is the end for you, Makarov,” Price pulled a sidearm from his belt, pointing it at the man, “You’re going to die by my hand,” the “again” went unsaid. 

Makarov laughed again, pushing himself up to a sitting position. He gave Roach a bloody grin. Roach knew what he was going to say, “Kill him,” Roach muttered to Price, his words desperate.

“Yes,” Makarov agreed. “Kill me, Captain. I’ll ring in the new world with Sergeant Sanderson.”

“Kill him,” Roach repeated, louder this time. 

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Price’s grip on his weapon shifted slightly, his eyes shooting to Roach’s with concern.

“He’s talking bullshit again,” Roach growled out, “Kill him!”

Makarov laughed again, “Your Bug seems ready to die.” 

It was Ghost that moved forward, his foot slamming against Makarov’s face with a sickening crack that knocked the man back down, “You don’t fucking call him that.”

“Roach, what the fuck is he talking about?” Price asked again, his voice more desperate.

“It doesn’t matter,” Roach was near hysterical at this point, “Just kill him! Please!”

“If I die, he dies,” Makarov taunted, his body racked with laughter again. He held up his wrist, his little metal band shining in the sun, “Check him, Captain.”

Roach’s wrist was seized by Ghost and, before he could even think to pull away, both Ghost and Price had seen the little metal bracelet around his wrist. “What the fuck is that,” Price growled out, his eyes turning wildly back to Makarov.

“Poison,” Makarov sneered, “Kill me, he dies.”

“Fuck,” Price shouted out.

“Just kill him,” Roach begged, “He’s bluffing, he has to be bluffing.”

“I’m not taking any chances,” Price began pacing, “I’m not taking the chance of you dying Roach.”

“Please,” Roach felt hysterical. Makarov couldn’t live. He couldn’t leave this field alive. If he did, he would find some way to come back, Roach just knew it. He had to die. 

“Listen,” Price offered, his voice dropping into something soft. “We’ll take him with us, as soon as that thing comes off of your wrist, we’ll end this.”

Roach shook his head. He knew it was a lie. “No,” he choked out, “No, no, if we bring him with us they won’t let you kill him! He’ll go to jail.” He could hear Makarov laughing still. The sound rang in his ears. He felt anger bubbling up in his system. Everything he’d done? Everything he’d been through? And Makarov was going to win, because, what? Roach would die?

“Listen,” Price met his eyes carefully, “I’m not arguing about this, Roach. You’re more important.”

“He’s right, Bug,” Ghost agreed, his hand pressed against the small of Roach’s back. “Why don’t you just sit down okay? We can wait for the medics to get here. You can watch him get taken away.”

Roach looked between the two men. He could see they wouldn’t budge. He wasn’t going to either. A sense of calm washed over him. He stood up taller. “Okay,” he muttered to Ghost.

“Okay?” The man asked.

Roach gave a short nod, “Okay,” he kept his voice soft, he kept his eyes down. They would know if they saw his face.

“Alright,” Ghost’s voice was equally as soft, his hand gently pushing to guide Roach, “C’mon, Bug.”

Roach let himself be guided for only a moment. He let the silence hang. He let that anger burn through his system quietly. He felt that avalanche slowly bury him. He felt that familiar calm fully set in. He remembered. He took in a breath. He moved.

“Roach!” Price leaped forward, trying to stop him as he swiftly pulled the gun from Ghost’s holster. Price was too slow. Roach knew that. Price knew that. Ghost knew that. Roach was too quick for anyone to stop him as he aimed at the man on the ground, a single shot fired that buried itself into the man’s skull. 

Makarov fell back against the ground, dead. Roach dropped the gun to the ground, his body followed a second after.

Prev: Part 16

Next: Part 18 - Coming Soon

[maybemxmax]

I'm terrible at self promotion! Here's the current synopsis of the setting:

Mutants and Madfolk is an over the top atompunk duet RPG, played with 1 Gamemaster and 1 Player, and set in the post-apocalyptic wasteland.

At the height of World War 2 the British were invaded by Martians! They used advanced machines to wage war across Great Britain, devastating everything they touched. However, by some miracle of nature the invaders were felled by the tiniest of Earth's creatures. The Empire bounced back, thriving by using the Martian’s technology to enhance their own. Empowered by these advances the Empire easily swept away the Axis powers. But in the pause of peace the saviours turned their eyes to the rest of the world, laying waste to all those who would oppose them. Ever fearing another attack from the stars or from their newly subjected colonies, they developed weapons of mass destruction, some reversed engineered from the Martian’s own terrible black smoke. In 1985, alarms blared. Those who could fled to shelters as hell rained down on the planet. No one knows who fired upon whom - whether someone rebelled against the Empire or if the Martians turned Earth’s defences against them. But now, in 2034, the earth lies broken once more, a chemically stained wasteland plunged into anarchy. A yellow weed grows rampant, malfunctioning bots roam unchecked, mutated masses hunger, and Madfolk reign.

[mysticdragon3md3]

my reactions to TGA2024

5:16 PM 12/12/2024 I know the saying is "no gameplay, no hype". But that was a good Witcher 4 trailer. I was enthralled. I was intrigued as soon as I saw CD Project Red was working on something new.

5:17 PM 12/12/2024 From Software?! Is it a new IP?????? Or another Eldenring DLC? Elden Ring: Night Reign

5:40 PM 12/12/2024 Split Fiction looks interesting.

5:51 PM 12/12/2024 Aw, that's nice. An award and all the time for a speech that he wanted. And most importantly, air time to address the issue of big publishers firing developers en masse, just for a couple executives' profits and an illusionary good image for investors' impossible standards for infinite growth. It's nice that this guy is doing something to help, and without charge to developers when they're already under the pressure of layoffs. And his cracking voice was so sincere. ;u;!

5:58 PM 12/12/2024 THAT THE FUDGE IS HAPPENING???????? Clive Rosfield! Is FF16 getting new DLC???????/ Tekken 8?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

6:00 PM 12/12/2024 YEAH! Best ARt Direction goes to Metaphor!!!!!!!!!!!!

6:01 PM 12/12/2024 Is this Marathon????????????? Is it back???? Splitgate 2. Haven't heard of it.

6:02 PM 12/12/2024 Is that a Gundam?

6:10 PM 12/12/2024 Is it a sequel to STRAY??????????????? Wait. Why is the video crashing????? Or is it going to an ad??? Now it's a montage of multiple games? Is this a Sony Playstation ad? But what was the trailer that started with the suspiciously bright yellow beaked blackbird? Wasn't that logo for the studio that made Stray? IT'S AN AD FOR THE GAME AWARDS???????? Oh, wait. I know what happened. YOuTube kicked me out of the livestream and now it's autoplaying the next vid at thegameawards channel. Ugh. I'm so glad these livestreams get archived. Remember when live TV wouldn't allow that? Ugh. . 6:16 PM 12/12/2024 Oh, right. Blue 12 created Stray. That wasn't their logo before the livestream crashed.

6:17 PM 12/12/2024 DID ASTRO BOT JUST WIN BEST GAME DIRECTION?????? ^u^ Well, let's how this teaches those investors and executives that gameplay and not live service trends are what sells.

6:20 PM 12/12/2024 A live-actor Helldivers ad? Oh man, it adds to the cheesiness and fits so well. ^o^

6:27 PM 12/12/2024 I know PalWorld is accused of ripping off Pokémon, but after those masked guys at the start of this trailer…Are they ripping off Borderlands too? LOL

6:33 PM 12/12/2024 Hey, it's that temple where you're supposed to make a wish….and people keep jumping off… Sekiro 2~ LOL Capcom????????????/ ONIMUSHA????????? o.O OMG IT IS ONIMUSHA! ONIMUSHA WAY OF THE SWORD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

6:36 PM 12/12/2024 Looking at the PlayStation YouTube for the trailers I missed. THERE'S A NEW NINJA GAIDEN GAME?????????????????????????? ;U; I love all these anime cutscenes. Makes it feel more retro. Even older than the Team Ninja Ninja Gaiden games. OMG it is a 2d side scroller action game! Just like the original game! I may not have mentioned this before, but the original Ninja Gaiden meant a lot to me when I was little.

6:40 PM 12/12/2024 Wait. That game trailer during the livestream crash was just a new Virtua Fighter game? Ok.

6:42 PM 12/12/2024 So is this a genetic engineering / splicing with animals game? omg. Just sedate him. But it's a zombie looking game. Dying Light: The Beast ok

6:43 PM 12/12/2024 Silent Hill 2 is an Action/Adventure Game??? LOLOLOLOL

6:44 PM 12/12/2024 Best RPG Such good games! YES!!!!!!! METAPHOR WON!!!!!!!! FF7 would've been good too.

6:44 PM 12/12/2024 content creator of the year. I don't know these people.

6:45 PM 12/12/2024 Wait. Kunitsugami was a Sim/Strategy Game?

6:45 PM 12/12/2024 MUPPETS???????????? ^U^ I'm glad they're becoming a reoccurring skit at TGA. Oh my gawd…Please don't involve the people sitting in the audience… These celebrity shout-outs are so embarrassing.

6:49 PM 12/12/2024 Is that Kyle Bossman dressed as a Squid Game contestant??????

6:53 PM 12/12/2024 I was wondering why Snoop Dog was going to be at this award show. He started a game studio?

7:01 PM 12/12/2024 ARC SYSTEM WORKS!!!!!!!!!1 DOUBLE DRAGON REVIVE??????????/ And these voice actors sound familiar. And the martial arts choreography is good! Oooooohhhh!

7:02 PM 12/12/2024 Is this Solo Leveling? I've never watched or read it, but it's the only IP I know from recent years that has a protag in such a casual hoodie jacket. omg It is Solo Leveling. Solo Leveling: Arise

7:03 PM 12/12/2024 Oh wow. The colors on this cityscape are nice. But didn't that logo say Polyphony? The Gran Turismo studio? What's with these pretty anime characters? Screamer

7:04 PM 12/12/2024 Naughty Dog. Another Last Of Us game? Last of Us 2 remaster trailer right before the live action adaptation actors present. Appropriate. I appreciate these actors lampshading that their presentation "banter" is just time wasting. But please stop all the "riffing and improv". Please.

7:07 PM 12/12/2024 Best Adaptation. Arcane Fallout Knuckles. H LIke a Dragon: Yakuza Tomb Raider: The Legend of Laura Croft . Fallout won? I really thought that after everyone was losing their minds over Arcane season2, that nothing else had a chance to win instead. I actually kind of wanted Arcane to win, even though I haven't watched it yet, just because it's animated and beautiful.

7:15 PM 12/12/2024 Did the livestream just crash again and push me to the next vid on the YouTube channel's playlist, again? Well, it was just as Snoop Dog was starting, so that's fine.

7:24 PM 12/12/2024 I guess Best Score and Music gets an actual award segment so TGA can get permissions for the Game Award Orchestra to play their music. Still, other categories like Best RPG and Best Action Game should get actual segments where the developers accept awards and give speeches too. I already forgot who they said won. I wish they'd keep the title graphic on the bottom of the screen. Sounds like FF7 Rebirth won. Nice.

7:31 PM 12/12/2024 Wow. Black Myth Wukong won the 100% audience vote.

7:36 PM 12/12/2024 Yay! Laura Bailey! Been listening to her since 2000s anime dubs! Aaron Paul, I only know from Breaking Bad and Todd from BoJack Horseman. But I only watched the last few episode or 2 of Breaking Bad. And I only really watched him as Todd. omg Please stop with the presenter banter. Everyone in the audience is laughing. But I hate presenter banter so much. It wastes time. It's not funny. Ugh. Please stop…! Ok. Here's the trailer they're both in. Wait. Is this a game or an animated series? Oh! Is this by Telltale Games? <3 Dispatch

7:41 PM 12/12/2024 Is this that Alan Wake director again? Best Narrative. FF7 Rebirth LIke a Dragon: Infinite Wealth Metaphor Re: Fantazio Senua's Saga Hellblade 2 Silent HIll 2

METAPHOR WON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111 AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! ^U^ Well, Atlas is going to make this into a series now. ^u^

7:44 PM 12/12/2024 I keep forgetting this is the 10th anniversary of this show. Good thing Geoff keep reminding us.

7:45 PM 12/12/2024 Oh wow. My ears are so bad, I can't hear this giant taiko drum. (Low bass sounds kind of disappear form my ears.) Is this Ghost of Yotei? It looks very animated tho. Like Okami OMG IT IS OKAMI! OKAMI SEQUEL! Game Director: Hideki Kamiya O.O!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! New studio "Clovers".

7:50 PM 12/12/2024 I was about to be annoyed with these Muppets saying bad things about Final Fantasy---even tho I know shit-talking is the entire joke with these characters. But them actually using their in-character harshness to mention how weird it is that a DLC is nominated for Game Of The Year… I'm thankful for them now.

7:51 PM 12/12/2024 What's the "one more thing". Is this a Kojima thing? In-engine. World premier. I can't read that from here. I don't have my glasses. OH wait. IT's a made up script? "The suffering of generations must be endured to achieve…" An anime on the character's diagetic screen. "Five Aces"…"What happened to…" Interesting to see a moon in the process of forming a ring. Is this 1980s Jpop??????????? NAUGHTY DOG??????????????????????????????????????? Intergalactic The Heretic Prophet Neil Druckman directing??????? Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross music. Names sound familiar. So good to see Naughty Dog doing something new and not so dire/seriously toned.

7:58 PM 12/12/2024 Wait. Is this the Larian studio head? I love how often he bring attention to best practices for the industry. They proved that keeping on developers instead of firing them, just to add to profits, is what people should be doing.

7:59 PM 12/12/2024 Ah, orchestra of all the GAme of the Year nominees. I'll be relistening to this for years to come. Metaphor ReFantazio Elden Ring Shadow of the Urd Tree DLC Balatro Astro Bot Black Myth Wukong FF7 Rebirth . Rocking flute guy is back. Balatro, I don't know anything about except what I heard during this awards show: it's an indie studio's first game. Reminds me of when Hades was also nominated for Game of the Year. It would be cool if an indie game could get dominated every year. Teach the industry executives a lesson about how not just AAA trends make popular games. . Winner: Astro Bot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG THE LITTLE ASTRO BOTS WON! I suddenly have the urge to draw an Astro Bot with a Game Award. ^u^ They're so cute. Now, let this be a lesson to the industry executives: gameplay wins.

8:08 PM 12/12/2024 The Muppets are dancing! lol ^u^ Confetti on the entire audience? LOL

[gaydragontournament]

Full bracket.

Feel free to let me know if there's any mistakes

Round 2 Part 1

Xue Xian (Copper Coins (Tong Qian Kan Shi) (铜钱龛世))vs Zinnia (Super Lesbian Animal RPG)

Anemone (Wings of Fire) vs Moondragon/Heather Douglas (Marvel Comics: Guardians of the Galaxy)

Paarthurnax (The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim) vs Tamarin (Wings of Fire)

Caden Bryce (Dragon's Reign by Raythe Reign/X. Aratare) vs Prismatic dragon (Dungeons & Dragons (Epic Level Handbook, Dragons of Faerûn)

Round 2 Part 2

King Valerius (Dragon's Reign by Raythe Reign/X. Aratare) vs Whiptail lizard (Real Life)

Dan Heng/Dan Feng (Honkai Star Rail) vs Tohru (Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid)

Alba-Lenatus the Abyss Dragon (Yu-Gi-Oh!) vs Burnet (Wings of Fire)

Velverosa (Mage & Demon Queen) vs Zuko (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Round 2 Part 3

Alduin (The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim) vs Dragona Joestar (Jojo's Bizzare Adventure: The Jojolands)

Ventuswill (Rune Factory 4) vs Terezi Pyrope (Homestuck)

Soren (Fire Emblem:Path of Radiance + Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn) vs Ansur (Baldur's Gate 3)

Azhdaha/Retuo Longwang (Genshin Impact) vs Lord Arum (The Penumbra Podcast: Second Citadel)

Round 2: Part 4

Falin Touden/Red Dragon (Dungeon Meshi) vs The Void Dragon (Aurora)

Kazuma Kiryu (Yakuza Series)/Malleus Draconia(Twisted Wonderland) vs Fiona (Flight Rising)

Umber (Wings of Fire) vs Nimona (Nimona)

Remy (Angels with Scaly Wings) vs Sundew (Wings of Fire)

[apkville1]

Hero Adventure is a gothic action top-down shooter with roguelike and RPG elements. The survivor explores the open world of an endless dungeon filled with hordes of various creatures and monsters. Shoot 'em up all before they tear your hero apart. Have you heard the expression “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”? The words of the great classic turned out to be prophetic. For centuries, an idle clan of rogue heroes guarded the sealed portal of the dark open world of various creatures and monsters in the endless dungeon of an ancient castle on the outskirts of London in action adventure games. Doomsday has come, the ancient rogue seal has collapsed and the portal has opened. Hordes of creatures and monsters have fallen into our open world in a free roguelite role playing game. Demons. Vampires. Werewolves. Cthulhu. All the monsters crave a bloody reign throughout the fantasy open world in survivor roguelike io game. All idle rogue mercenaries are in captivity by darkness. You are the only lonely hero hunter who can clear the dungeon crawler teeming with dark creatures in this action RPG game free offline. A hero adventure filled with epic shooters against hordes of monsters, fights with demonic bosses, rogue-like quests and arena battles in action adventure games. The fantasy world is on the brink of death. All hope is on you, a lonely survivor, because you are a hereditary monster hunter. Fire the first bullet hell and start the bounty hunt. · ROGUE HEROES Create your own lonely hero in the doomsday! You can become a shooter, a vampire, an arsonist or a master of poison. Each rogue hero has his own idle skills and abilities that need to be upgraded. It is from the pumping of the lonely hero that the further adventure through the endless dungeons will depend on action RPG io games free offline. · HUNTER EQUIPMENT Every monster hunter should have a good outfit. What will you choose to fight the horde of dark creatures and bosses in the dungeon crawler: a Winchester, a Revolver, or a Tesla gun? Or maybe you decide to use a crossbow? It's up to you to decide with what gun you will shoot 'em up all the dark creatures in the dungeon in our top-down shooter. · IDLE MERCENARIES Roguelite abilities, armor, weapons and assistants need to be upgraded. To do this, you will need a huge amount of rubies. There's an easy way to earn them in the survivor io roguelike game free offline. After freeing the imprisoned rogue heroes, you can recruit them in action RPG games. Shooters mercenaries will mine rubies for you without stopping, just have time to collect, otherwise the treasuries may overflow. · DUNGEON CRAWLER Go through amazing gothic quests from other idle rogue heroes. Explore every corner of an endless adventure RPG dungeon, in the darkness of which many dangers can lurk. You never know in what part of the gothic roguelite castle you will meet the next boss and fire the first bullet hell. You must always be ready in our roguelite role playing game. You can find yourself in battle with the Cthulhu, the Soul Eater or the Vampire Lord. Hero Adventure is a gothic action top-down shooter with roguelike and RPG elements that will immerse you in the Victorian era and give you the opportunity to become a real rogue-like hero of the century. Lonely survivor, the fate of all mankind is in your hands. Use all the possibilities, calculate the moves, destroy the horde of monsters and do not let it fill everything around. Keep the balance of light and darkness in the fantasy open world. You can play free online or offline action adventure games. If you have any questions, comments or suggestions, you can always write to us! Our mail: help@pgstudio.io Doomsday has arrived, let the bounty hunt begin! Shoot 'em up all the monsters before they tear your hero to pieces! See you in the roguelike dungeon crawler, lonely survivor!

[tinfoilbutters]

Okay, so after completing the main story, New Kid gets recruited by Professor Chaos. They've had enough of getting bossed around by Cartman and just want to get up to general tomfoolery with the first friend they made.

Soup orders are swapped, all the furniture in people's houses are moved 2 inches to the left, half the town is convinced it's Tuesday, while the other half swears it's Monday. When combined with the New Kid's protagonist powers, Chaos is unstoppable.

There have been heroes that seek to stop them. Namely Mysterion. After Professor Chaos and New Kid zip tied one too many shopping carts to car doors.

Mysterion breaks into Professor Chaos' Super Secret Lair of Evil, but is trapped.

Professor Chaos monologues, explaining his evil plan. New Kid and General Disarray serve as the goons that go, "Tell 'em boss!" "Yeah, you tell 'em!"

That is until goon number 2, aka General Disarray mentions firing up the Evil Stinky Ray of Supreme Stinkingness-- a weapon designed to harness the New Kid's powers.

Professor Chaos is hesitant to use such a dangerous weapon. General Disarray is adamant that they actually use it, because what would be the point of building it?

They ask New Kid to break the tie, and regardless of what New Kid says, the weapon goes off. (Either New Kid says they should fire it or it goes off by accident.)

After the weapon fires, Mysterion is presumed dead. And without him, chaos can reign supreme.

That is until the General keeps encouraging the Professor and New Kid to do increasingly more diabolical things.

It isn't until they have to break into the local game store to steal a copy of the newest video game.

Professor Chaos isn't too sure about this, posting spoilers early doesn't work since time zones are a thing.

General Disarray calls him out, saying, "it can still spread chaos." then asks. "What are you more scared of, the police or your parents?"

Chaos is taken aback by this. He, New Kid, and the General break in and steal the game. They manage to not get caught because of New Kid being the main character.

However, at school the next day, Butters is clearly upset but the previous nights events.

Later he asks New Kid if they should, "keep this up, or team up to stop the General?"

If they keep this up, the game is now a GTA parody. If they team up, they team up with the rest of the main characters in the same tactical rpg style.

Aight who wants to hear about my New Kid becomes a Chaos Minion DLC pitch?

[riseofdragons]

Intente aclararme yo mismo antes de seguir hablando Crees que ella hubiera querido esto para ti? No creo que ser así, como somos los dos sea deseable, deberíamos aspirar a vivir sin miedo, sin violencia... Había recitado de memoria una de las lecciones de mi madre y para ser sinceros ni sabia como lograr es opero me pareció algo apropiado que decirle

Vindicare -  El tigre y el gato