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Post by UlrichAcheronNacht on Nov 20, 2012 10:20:57 GMT -5
In a dark, dank apartment New York City building, a single light flickered on. The large, black sphere in the room's center shot out a tri-color laser, creating the image of a single man in the room. The man was dressed in a black, skin-tight latex suit. He clutched a peculiar-looking gun in his hand, it was reminiscent of a shotgun. He looked at the ball, which showed a picture of his face. Next to the picture, the words: “Shithead. Ninety points. Ten more to go!” Appeared in an odd, green block-shaped text.
“Fuck you,” The man said to the ball. “Fuck you, you piece of shit!” He kicked the ball, his muscles in the leg bulged to enormous sizes before impacting the sphere. “Gantz!” He fell to his knees and dropped the gun, banging both hands against it. “Fuck you! Goddamn you to Hell!” He kept banging his fists for half an hour, before he finally gave up. It wouldn't do a thing. The man solemnly rose to his feet, wiped the tears from his face, then departed the God-forsaken room.
Elsewhere and a few days later, a younger man named Abel Schwarz sat on his couch. In his hand was a syringe, around his other arm was a tourniquet. He poked the needle through his flesh and into his artery by the reverse side of his elbow. He gasped before he pushed the plunger down. The heroin flooded into his system before he wrenched it free. Abel's eyes began to flicker before he closed them. Always with heroin, the man began to fall asleep. However, when he did fall asleep, he didn't wake up...
The man wearing a black suit beneath his clothing was walking down a street. Ahead of him, a pair of kids were trying to shake down an old lady for her purse. Francis Schwarz tutted and shook his head, continuing his pace. His thoughts were veering away from the last hunt he'd participated in; everyone died. Except him, of course... He kept those morose thoughts from maneuvering around in his head by approaching the pieces of shit.
“Mugging an old woman? Really?” Francis grabbed one of the little shits by the back of the neck and tossed him away like a ragdoll; he slammed into a building and fell on the ground, curled up into a ball. The other turned to him, holding a knife out at him. “The fuck you think that's gonna do?” He took the knife by the blade and bent it, just before wrenching it from the mugger's hand. The hunter pulled the blade up and into the shithead's throat. The would-be mugger stumbled back, clasping his throat as spurts of blood jetted out and onto the pavement. As a pang entered his head, Francis glanced towards the old lady; she was running away with her purse in-hand. It was time to go, then... It seemed like he killed both of them, too. Two more on the next hunt.
A crippled man dragged himself forwards, pulling himself through the street. His bloody, flattened legs dragged limply behind him, extra weight that pulled him down. Sweat trickled down his face, he could smell his blood and taste some of it. A woman walking out of an alley was garbed in the wear of a “woman of the night.” Her face was painted up, she wore hardly any clothing; it was like she was wearing a tight, tight bikini with stiletto heels. The most luck he'd had since
“Help me,” He garbled to the whore. She looked at him, then took a step away. She thought better of it and walked towards him. She took him by both wrists and dragged him onto the sidewalk with some difficulty. She leaned down to take a look at him, to make sure his upper body was fine. Then, a hand found its way into one of his pockets and his fangs found her throat. He crunched down on it and began sucking tenderly, draining her of blood. She began to writhe in his grasp until his hands found her throat, as well. He squeezed and continued drinking her blood, her struggling grew weaker and weaker as his grip grew firmer.
Finally, her neck snapped like a vise. The vampire kept drinking greedily, glad he'd found someone to drink from – even if it was a prostitute. Once he was finished drinking her blood, he felt his legs beginning to regenerate the bones, repairing the shattered fragments in his lower extremities. Something strange happened, even for Jebediah. The body he was holding began to vanish in his hands... And he found himself being transported with it. "What the fuck...?"
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Post by selloutboy on Nov 21, 2012 21:12:33 GMT -5
It was a good day. Rick had managed to scam his old employer Walking With Hammers into giving him someone else's paycheck by posing a "financial quality assurance manager," which wasn't even a real position. On the way out, he had pissed in his old boss's printer, stolen an early beta of their newest generic first-person shooter (which he planned to leak to the internet), and used stencils and spray paint to litter the parking lot with hardcore hentai illustrations, all without getting caught. After a change of clothes and some quality time with the internet, he'd cashed the paycheck at an ATM with a broken camera, scored some chronic, sold that chronic for a massive profit, and bought himself some donuts. He still had enough money left over for an "I Heart New York" tee shirt, a movie ticket, an authentic military-grade M16 assault rifle with ammo, two months' worth of dog food for Champ, several types of hallucinogenic drugs, a Justin Bieber CD, a subscription to Better Homes and Gardens, a blowjob, and a gallon of 2% milk.
It was a great day. Then he got home to his hateful wife, who had just returned from her job doing...whatever it is that hateful bitches do all day when they aren't sucking all of the joy out of their home lives. He managed to dodge her until he was done putting his new stuff away, but then he heard her open the fridge, and...
"DID YOU REMEMBER MY ROCKY ROAD?"
Fuck. Clearly, there was only one thing to do: murder her and burn the house down. He stealthily grabbed a can of gasoline from the garage, realized it was nearly empty, and decided he'd get more after the harpy was dead. Then, he unholstered his concealed Desert Eagle .50 AE and drew a bead on her through the kitchen doorway. She didn't see him and walked into another room. He followed her with his sights and pulled the trigger, hoping to hit her through the wall.
Click.
Damn thing must be jammed. Rick put the safety on, pushed his sunglasses up onto the top of his head, and peered down the barrel. A moment later, a 12.7mm-long piece of lead entered his eyeball at over 1,500 feet per second and blasted his head apart.
His wife heard the deafening report and yelled "Quit fooling around, asshole! I want my damn ice cream!" A few minutes later, she put down her beer and TV remote and padded around the house in her cigarette smoke-faded pink bunny slippers, looking for him. There was no sign of him, other than a bullet hole in the ceiling and a spent brass casing. She shook her head.
"Walk out on me, huh? You'll be back. They always come crawling back."
Inventory: Desert Eagle .50 AE Handgun (6 bullets remaining), Police Baton, Stun Gun, Can of Gasoline (almost empty), Matches, Scissors, Can of Catnip, Plastic Baggie of Doggie Treats, Empty Crack Pipe, $500 in Small Bills (most of these items are hidden in his trench coat)
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Post by Tame on Nov 25, 2012 19:57:16 GMT -5
A Mercedes convertible sped down the highway, its driver weaving in and out of the other cars, over-taking, under-taking and generally being a douche. He had the top down, like a douche. He was wearing sunglasses, despite the fact that it was dark, like a douche. He was listening to "More Than a Feeling" by Boston, like a mega-douche.
The driver was a smug-faced, oily-looking man who gave no regard to the other cars he was nearly running off the road with his reckless driving. With one hand carelessly on the wheel and the other casually resting on the door of the car, Arnold Fletcher drove home. What did fate have in store for this king among men this evening? Only god knew that, but if his previous nine evenings were anything to go by, it would probably involve masterbation.
Coming off the freeway, Fletcher didn't let up his speed. He never did straight away - the first couple of streets after the freeway still kinda counted as the freeway, he told himself, so going at a cool fifty was fine. Honking his horn, he swore loudly at an old lady who had dared to think about crossing the street in front of him.
''Would serve you right if I'd just run you over!' Fletcher said to his rear view mirror, taking his eyes off the road. He didn't notice the red light at the crossing up ahead. He didn't notice the bus driving over the crossing to his right. He barely even noticed being crushed to death when the bus slammed into the side of his prized Merc.
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Post by UlrichAcheronNacht on Dec 4, 2012 9:56:21 GMT -5
Francis was the first one to find himself with Gantz. He looked scornfully at the ball. Right after he muttered, "Fuck you," the ball sent another person into the room with its signature tri-color beam. The body being made was that of a woman; she looked like a night-walker with the short skirt, fishnets, and heels. Attached to her was a man dressed in a black suit. He was holding her close to him. A couple died together, then?
No, they weren't a couple. Francis could tell that from the way the man dragged the body towards the window and began looking around quickly. "Wh-where am I?"
"Hell," Was the oh-so-simple response. It wasn't too far off, either.
Before Jebediah could retort to the man wearing a denim jacket and jeans over a weird latex-looking shirt he tucked in his pants, the black ball in the room spat out another tri-colored beam, this time to create a guy whose appearance just screamed "I'M AN ASSHOLE."
Jebediah looked around the room, figuring that's how he got there, as well. Along with the whore he killed...
After the douche, two more people were transferred in; the two that Francis had killed earlier. It appeared that the kid with the broken back had died, the other definitely died after being stabbed in the throat with a knife. They were crawling over each other as they tried running into the kitchen, away from their murderer.
Francis watched, along with Jebediah as the two more people were transferred in; one looked very familiar to Francis, and the other a drug dealer or something of their ilk... This could prove to be an interesting night.
Abel Schwarz woke on the floor of some room, feeling sober as Hell. His stomach felt empty, which just added to the nausea he was experiencing. H. He needed some, and soon. Or he'd be dealing with withdrawals until he could get it. Oh, Christ this wasn't going to be good. Too wrapped up in his sudden sobriety and his body's urge for heroin, he didn't notice Francis Schwarz trying to figure out who he was.
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Post by Tame on Dec 15, 2012 6:53:02 GMT -5
One moment he had been cruising along, happily shouting at pedestrains. The next, Arnold Fletcher found himself on his ass in some weird apartment.
He glanced round blankly for a few moments. There were three people in the room (one of whom looked like the whore Arnold had lost his virginity to) and a large black ball.
'Wh-where am I? What's going on?' Fletcher's questions were garbled and random, so shocked was he to be anywhere but driving home. Then another thought struck him. 'Where the fuck is my car?!' he demanded, jumping to his feet anf looking round wildly for it, as if his Mercedes might be hidden in some corner of the apartment.
As he looked round desparately, three lasers shot out of the ball and from them the shape of two boys began to form. Fletcher stopped his hopeless search to stare at the bizarre sight. Once they had completely materialised, the two boys scrambled out of the room, apparently stricken with fear.
Turning on a random member of the group, (a guy in denim jackt) Fletcher simply said: 'Just what is going on here?'
He failed to notice the two new additions to the room teleporting in behind him.
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Post by selloutboy on Dec 21, 2012 5:38:52 GMT -5
Rick Posthill stared in disbelief at the Desert Eagle handgun clutched in his fist. "Did I just fucking shoot myself?" he muttered. Considering his consistent and purposeful lack of an indoor voice, his "muttering" was fairly loud. He looked around at the strange apartment. Frightened people surrounded him, a big black ball rested in ominous silence, and the Statue of Liberty kept guard outside of the window. Hardly the afterlife he'd imagined. Rick shrugged.
"I regret nothing."
He hid his handgun beneath his coat and set his can of gasoline on the floor, then slid the can over to the wall with his foot.
Rick tried to leave the apartment and found that he couldn't even touch the door. "Well, either the afterlife is really weird, or some interior decorator has lost his tiny mind. There's a black ball in the living room and a force field on the door." This was already far beyond Rick's experience, but it didn't really bother him. He was just glad to be alive, even if it meant he had to put up with some Twilight Zone bullshit. Accidentally killing himself was just about the most embarrassing way he could imagine himself dying. Besides that one thing in Tijuana. Rick shuddered involuntarily at the memory.
Rick came back into the living room just in time to see the two boys being drawn out of thin air by the lasers projected from the ball. "Okay, so now I'm in Star Trek. Beam me up, Scotty." He was glad he put his gun away. He leaned against the wall, arms folded, and waited to see what would happen next.
Inventory: Desert Eagle .50 AE Handgun (6 bullets remaining), Police Baton, Stun Gun, Matches, Scissors, Plastic Baggie of Doggie Treats, Catnip, Empty Crack Pipe, $500 in Small Bills
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Post by UlrichAcheronNacht on Dec 23, 2012 1:46:02 GMT -5
Candi scrambled to her feet and looked around the room; one of the men looked like a former client, actually. "R-Ricky..?" She called out - the boy had been foolish enough to give her his name back in the day.
Francis looked at the douchebag demanding questions and shrugged his shoulders. "We're in Hell, more-or-less," He solemnly replied. Jebediah was eying the Hunter as he reached into his denim jacket. "Now," He raised his voice so all in the room could hear him.
Abel looked up, grimacing as his brother raised his voice. From the way he had raised his voice, the younger brother remembered fragments of his childhood for a moment; the times when he was being chastised for this or that. Out of the two, Abel had been the more wild of the two - but managed to get himself a career. Acrobats got more money than cashiers. Regardless, he was too caught up in the fact that he was in this room with his elder sibling to comprehend the events around him.
"This is an X-Gun," Francis continued. "The X-Rifles are the same and are merely larger. When the ball turns on, a closet will open and inside will be G-Swords and Monobikes. The G-Swords activate by pressing the switch under the crossguard; it's on the upper part of the hilt. Mind you, the Monobikes are just some weird version of a motorcycle. You fire the X-Weaponry by pulling both triggers at once like so," He punctuated the sentence by pulling the triggers simultaneously.
For a few seconds, nothing happened, but then the air around him began to act as if it was being electrocuted. He repeated the process three more times; the air around him jolted twice. "Good luck and be careful with them," Francis wished the new group of hunters as his head began to expand. The expansion went until his head exploded; bits of skull, blood, and gray matter rocketed in every which way possible.
With his memories interrupted by a shower of blood and brains from his brother's head, Abel blinked, trying to figure out what was going on in his sobriety.
Jebediah watched the man blow his head apart with no remorse; he was wondering, though, why he decided to do such a thing. Perhaps this place was that unbearable? No matter what awaited him, he'd find a way out. He was determined to survive, even if it meant murdering each of the other poor fucks trapped with him.
The two punks in the room heard the sound of something wet smacking against the floors and walls of the room with the ball. Joe looked at Jack and in their eyes, the two Green brothers were trying to figure out which one was going outside to see what happened. And, being the cowards they both were with their murderer in there, they stayed put...
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