Shadowfaith
Shinigami...
The Damned Unit
Rated R
“Did you really think, you could stop me? A group of rustic monstrosities made of nothing but metal scraps from a garbage dump? Oh no no no no, you see, you lack something, something vital, something that only I possess. You lack technology, my friend.”
“Technology?”
“Yes, technology. You see, your kind had only managed to skim the possibilities technology could bring, where as my kind dedicated our entire lives to it. We were constantly coming up with new possibilities, new gadgets, new…weapons.”
“How?”
“Now now, if I told you then I may run the risk of you being able to control it for yourselves. All you need to know is that I possess the power to turn this world…Up. Side. Down
To be perfectly honest with you it seems to me as if I have surpassed this world. After all it is nothing more than a dump now. Your forests, your water. I have, dare I say…Caused the apocalypse, hah hah hah hah hah.”
“Why?”
“Why? Simply because I could. With all this power what was I ever going to do?”
“Help…”
“Help? Why my dear boy why should I help your kind? Surly if I had not put an end to your miserable way of living you would have simply destroyed it yourselves. You see, your kind, take everything for granted, if I were to give you our knowledge, you would simply take and not return. I have watched your kind for many years, so you cannot deny that all you do is take.”
Silence was all that met the statement. A silence that confirmed the truth. There was an amused snarl and the rustle of clothing as the captor rose from his place and made his way over to the captive who was nothing more than a shrivelled heap on the floor. He glanced down at him and a pitying emotion crossed his face. “Your kind really are pathetic.” He leaned down and grasped something cold and metallic in his palm. He studied the offending item and ripped it from its socket before throwing it to the floor in disgust. “You mock me with your weak attempts at understanding technology. There is so much your kind should have learnt, but didn’t.”
There was a wheezing cough from the captive and it rose its body slightly from the hard floor. There was a scrape of metal and he managed to make eye contact with his captor. “My ‘kind’ found more important things to dedicate they’re lives to. Love, friendship, compassion. We were not cold hearted monsters who sought to understand everything. Your kind seems to have wasted they’re lives on studying scraps of metal and electronics. How-” The voice was cut off abruptly by a kick to the face from the captor. He was sent hurdling backwards before his head came to rest painfully upon the cold floor. A foot planted itself firmly atop his chest.
“You dare mock me, my kind! Love and compassion was not what destroyed your planet. It was technology! I am the one standing over you, your life in my grasp! Am I not!?” It was a rhetorical question, but one the gasping captive answered none the less.
“Now what then? You have fulfilled all you can, what will you…what will you do next?” The voice was pained, but sure of itself.
“I will move on, destroy another and another.”
“And what happens when there is nothing left? What purpose will you and your precious technology have then?”
“The galaxy’s are plentiful, filled with planets, enough to satisfy me and my people.”
“And for what purpose?”
“Simply to demonstrate out findings. To further our understanding.”
“Then you have no purpose”
There was a sickening squelch, followed by more silence.
“We have lost contact with Scrapheap, Sir.” A voice echoed from a cornered computer. A young man sat staring at a static screen, a look of worry on his face. “I…I cant get a heartbeat, sir.”
“Then he is no longer with us.” A man sighed from across the room. He was an aged man, greying hair with a wrinkled face, but not aged to the point where he was not active. A white moustache decorated his upper lip and a black patch covered his left eye. He wore a ragged lab coat, drenched mostly with black oil and a simple attire underneath. He stepped close to the computer monitor in order to observe the crackling screen and lowered his head in disappointment. “We are loosing this battle, men. I fear we are not going to see this through. Though I am determined to fight to the end.” The aging man stepped towards the exit to the rusting computer room and sighed, laying a fragile hand on the doors metal frame. “Disconnect from Scrapheap, he is a lost cause. God rest his soul.”
The foot steps echoed down the hallway, completely bare of any life. It was bed time for the members of the shelter. Parents and children were asleep in they’re cots whilst the rest sat awake developing new ways in which to save they’re life deprived planet. In just a few hours, the members of the shelter would raise from they’re plagued dreams and continue life as much as possible within the confinement. There was not much to be said about they’re rustic ‘home’. They had enough food to last them a while longer, having prepared before the ‘happening’ and though water was running low, they were still well off for the 200 or so people that lived there.
The old man opened a heavy door with great difficulty. Stepping into the darkness as if he had been there countless times. The lights were dimmed here and there seemed to be no sign of life until a crouched heap stood from the floor. White lab coat draping across the frame and seemingly to big for the body that carried it. The person in questions shuffled over to a bloody table and strew multiple metallic scraps across its surface before turning his gaze towards the aging man that was slowly shutting the door behind him. “For you to come crawlin’ back ‘ere must mean that ‘e was a failure, yes?”
“Don’t start with me, Bowen. I am in no mood to be toyed with.” The man stated, his fist colliding roughly with the bloodied table. “I want more of them out there now. Do what you will, just make them better than the last bunch.”
“And what be makin’ ya tink that these ‘uns will work, dis time?” The creature taunted from the other side of the table, “Dey just be more failures. Like we always knew, we lack da technology.”
“For your sake, they had better not be.” The man threatened, taking up a stick from one of the nearby tables surrounding the centremost and using it as a prop for his body. “This…thing is close to wiping this planet from existence. It’s creations are looking for our camps as we speak and god knows what else lays upon the surface after the explosion. All we know is that if we don’t want to die a painful death, we are going to have to do something about it.”
“What be making ya think that there be more creatures out there, mon? We aint caught nuttin on our trackers and the bots ain’t caught nutting either.”
“Our bots have caught nothing because that things monstrosities keep wiping them out! It was a miracle Scrapheap got so far as to actually meet it in person!” He yelled, a finger pointing in the general direction of the location he assumed Scrapheap had died.
“Aye..” The other creature murmured, shuffling around the room for equipment. “Get dos guards of yours to bring me in some live uns then. I’ll ‘ave em up and runnin’ within da week.”
Plot
The world was once fully populated by human beings. Odd creatures that walked upon two legs and were made of flesh, bone and blood. They had developed in the ways of technology so far as to know how to create a jetpack and small robot companions, heck some had even managed to forge a hover car or two. Still the earth was populated with machines running on fuel and electricity as the humans understanding did not go further than this, as hard as they tried. What they had not expected was for a race of higher intelligence to appear and attempt to take they’re home land from them. A war has waged for going on a year now. One that no one had foreseen. People had talked about an apocalypse for years but never had they actually pictured it to be anything like this. The aliens that attacked they’re once peaceful world came with robots the size of skyscrapers and vehicles such as the humans had never seen. They plagued the sky’s and soon the ground was no longer dominated by the living.
But the human race were not as simple as they’re attackers predicted. With the growing belief that an Apocalypse would no doubt happen, the humans build underground camps adorned with heavy metallic armour and living quarters, stocked to the brim with food and a system that run through the ground to rivers and ponds for water. After quarter of a year, what remained of the human race took shelter in these camps and lived they’re lives beneath the earth, depending completely on the food storage and the military to keep them safe. Wanting to be sure of the destruction of man kind, the alien leader demanded a bomb of sorts be dropped in every country across the globe, one of immense power and range in order to rid the ‘new world’ of any living being. And so its demands were met and the globe was soon covered in flames and toxins that would have wiped out any living soul that dared walk its face.
Half a year passed after the bombing and it was growing impossible for the humans to live underground any longer with they’re food supplies running low and the lakes surly drying up. Something needed to be done….
Having lost contact with other camps across the globe, Sergeant Karuma took the well being of camp Alpha into his own hands and demanded a party search the area around them for any signs of life or clues as to what exactly happened above ground. Using a generator and the technology they had managed to save from destruction they were able to track the team as they explored the land above. What they found was nothing they had ever imagined.
The land was bare save for the metal scraps of buildings long destroyed. Mutated creatures roamed the surface assumed to have been human beings once before the toxins got to them. And what was more disturbing were the robots patrolling the wastes. All they had known had been destroyed.
Your role
You will be wondering what your role in this story is, no doubt?
Well Doctor Bowen one of the leading scientists in Camp Alpha has eagerly taken on the challenge of creating a half human half robot hybrid that can act on its on free will but still have the strength and immunities to get it through the harsh terrain of the lands above. Using scraps of metal from old robots and the technologies he has learned from some defeated robots of the opposing race, he has cleverly come up with you.
Technically, you are human. But with some minor modifications, be it a gun arm or night vision eyes. You have the interior of a normal human being….but the exterior of a hardened robot.
Welcome to the Damned Unit.
Setting
It is a time where robots as tall as skyscrapers roam the earth killing all living life forms in its path. The land itself it waste, nothing but metal scraps and ruins of the past. Ashes are all the decorate the floor and the air is thick with toxins and dust. Any normal being would have easily died here. But what if I were to tell you that the nuclear bombs did not rid the world of everything…
Mutants are a common sight in these harsh times and though many are normally taken out by the patrolling robots, some are smart enough to hide and wait. There is no telling what you will find out there, perhaps you will stumble across other camp factions, perhaps you will stumble across mutant factions….it is hard to tell what the world is like when you have not seen it for as long as I.
Species
Human
Humans are on the verge of extinction. What is left populates the underground camps and it is very unlikely you will find one living above unless they are in some way mutated. There were other camps built across the world, but having lost contact with them, it is uncertain on whether they have survived or not.
Human-Robot Hybrids
This is you. You are basically humans with robotic alterations, be it a gun for an arm or perhaps your entire body is cover with metal. There have been many before you and many after you if you do not succeed in your mission to destroy the alien leader. You have the innards of a human being (a beating heart and brain) but the exterior of a robot.
Trolls
Trolls are what humans have decided to call mutants who are more human than mutant. They are basically survivors of the nuclear bombs who have been taken in but kept mostly in quarantine away from human beings. Trolls can vary in appearance and personality from having horns to having overly big body parts. They alternate as much as your normal human being, though you will find most Trolls to have quite hostile personalities.
Mutants
Mutated beings that have lost all sense of control and/or humanity. They vary in appearance and can even look completely normal but have incredibly hostile personalities. Having probably been starved of food, they will not hesitate to eat they’re own or other beings. You will find that most humans have disfigured body’s or slight abnormalities. The mutants are not only former human beings but can also be animals who have mutated far beyond recognition.
Robots
Simply put they are the enemy. Built by the invading aliens to patrol the earth, they will not hesitate to kill you and come in a variety of different sizes and appearances.
Unknown
Simply these are the alien invaders, though no one knows exactly what they look like as they lay hidden in they’re newly built buildings or they’re ships. Scrapheap was successful in finding the leader but it is uncertain of whether he had moved on since.
Important Characters (Note that more characters will be added as we go along)
Name: Sergeant Karuma
Age: 59
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Description: Your typical military man. Large and Bulky with naturally tanned skin and greying hair. The mans face is marked by multiple battle scars after years spent in service to the Military, one of his shockingly pale blue eyes is blinded and turned gray after a rather large slash to the face during a rescue mission seven years ago. He wears the typical khaki attire, with heavy black boots and inscribed silver dog tags.
Personality: A harsh, calculating man who has been trained, moulded and hardened by his military supervisors. Karuma cares for his soldiers but he believes an iron fist is the best way to harden they’re wills and make them model soldier’s capable of taking down this alien menace. This army dog loves his sarcasm and believe me when I say there will be many occasions where you will be wondering if he is serious or not…just make sure you make the right decision before opening your mouth in front of him, he doesn’t take lightly to cocky initiates.
Name: Doctor Bowen
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Species: Troll
Description: Bowen has all your typical human like traits, only being exposed to radiation for too long has mutated him into a hall, hunched and demon like being. Large yellowing tusks sprout from above his lower lip and reach skywards. His eyes are blood shot to the point as appearing as nothing more than red-ish orbs and each and every bone in his body is outlined underneath the thin sheet of skin that just about managed to stay together. His feet no longer have five toes but are simply stubs with the outline of where the toes should have been. His ears are elongated and yellow claws extend from the tips of his fingers. Boils and scars basically make up the most part of his decomposing body and he wears a typical (yet blood stained) white doctors jacket, which manages to cover the most part of his mutation.
Personality: Doctor Bowen is cold and rather twisted. He thinks of his mutation as more of a blessing than a curse, claiming that the radiation made him smarter beyond belief. He likes nothing more than sending chills up peoples spines and would never pass up a chance to tease passers by, he takes a thrill in the fact that he can even make the elder sergeant stand on edge. All in all, Bowen is rather twisted but would never harm a person…unless they wished it.
Name: Scrapheap
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Species: Human-Robot Hybrid
Description: Scrapheap had the typical human body with a few adjustments. His arm was completely metallic giving him a strength much greater than your average human. One of his dazzling amber eyes had been replaced by a scanning device, allowing him to detect distant objects and the body heat of anyone with in range. All in all, Scrapheap was the runt of the old litter, made from the leftover parts of Bowens previous work, making him more agile but less durable.
Personality: Conner, as he was once known, was a courageous young lad with unbelievable determination. The moment he was chosen to be apart of Bowens work he knew that he would be the one to come face to face with the Alien threat, he was psyched and happier than ever to get out of the chamber and into the world above, regardless of what dangers lay ahead. He was optimistic and loved by many members of the chamber, may he R.I.P.
Sign up’s
Name: (This is a codename you are given when you awake from the operation. You are no longer known by your true name)
Age:
Gender:
Description: You are a half human half robot hybrid. Be creative, I am not going to put any restrictions on this apart from the fact you are of human height. Include weapons here.
Personality:
History: What was your life like before the invasion? How did you come to be here and why are you undergoing the operation? Were you forced? Did you volunteer? Heck were you on the verge of death after a patrol mission and thought why the hell not?
Other:
My Sign-up:
Name: Scrapheap2.0 - Duo Lance. AKA- Lance
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Description: Lance was created from the remains of Scrapheap that a Scout bot brought back from the ruins of the city in which he died at the hands of the alien invader. Dr Bowen took it upon himself to add a few upgrades to the previous failure and so has completely rewritten the programme in which Scrapheap used. It is with this upgrade that a few descriptive traits have been changed. Unlike her predecessor, Lance has more of a robotic body, the fragile skin having been replaced with multiple scraps of metal that make up a sort of armour casing for the fragile innards of the human that Lance once was. A metallic helmet equipped with a tracking device has completely encased the fragile skull and has been fitted with night vision that allows Lance to see in the dark. The helmet is shaped so that the black visor obscures all beneath it and what is left on view of Lance’s skin has since been covered by the black and white leather of a cow hide in order to add a little extra resistance to the human body.
Her torso is encased in scrap metal, a hole directly in the middle is fitted with a light in order for Lance to see in dark areas. Her midriff is basically non existent, all that remains there are her vital organs encased in metal, the spine completely on view but submerged in liquid metal in order to protect it from harm. Multiple pipes pulsate with the moving of blood through them and nothing but the fragile remains of hip bones are what connects her upper body to her lower. A pair of black leather boots cover her semi metallic feet and at her back are two large pole arms which are Lance’s preferred choice of weapon. Like her predecessor, Lances arms are metallic, giving her more inhuman strength than Scrapheap possessed.
Personality: Some would say she is completely void of all emotion, before the experiment she was deemed one of the most unselective people at the base and after Bowen’s tampering has become even more so. Like her sergeant, she is harsh and calculating, unable to think of anything other than bringing down the aliens who dare take the earth from them. She is protective, but if she deems a situation impossible and a threat to the mission, she would sooner leave her comrades to fight they’re own battles if it meant her potentially meeting the main threat. Her mission has become her life, she is a leader at heart and will stop at nothing to complete that which she was built for. Funnily enough she looks at Karuma as a father figure; not being able to remember her true father she has adopted him as such, even if he sees her as nothing more than another experiment.
Lance is a great believer in mediation and when she deems necessary with happily sit herself down and take a deep breath, claming herself and driving her sharp and ever present temper back into the depths of her mind. Stupidity is something Lance does not appreciate and if anyone so much as threatens the progress of the mission it takes all of her will power not to kill them on sight save them getting into trouble again. In the last year she has learnt to control her temper a little more and after many nights spent in solitary has vowed to try and restrain herself from killing anymore clueless initiates.
History:
Other: N/A
I do want GOOD sign ups and I will not be taking reservations I’m afraid.
