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Through Silver In Blood. (Isaac Silver.)

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Through Silver In Blood. (Isaac Silver.)

Post by Zodiac on August 12th 2018, 3:29 am

New Jersey was a fickle city. Once penned as the city of brotherly love, fitting considering the dysfunctional family that was the human race. Sirens screeching, glass shattering, people calling out for help. You couldn't turn down some alleyways without wondering if tonight was going to be the night you came to a gun point mugging. Blood ran down the streets, and some murders never got solved. This was a place that it despised above many others. When it took to the streets here, it's work was endless. That was saying something for the fastest creation on the planet, created by the world's smartest man.

Tonight was no different than any other night. He had selected a target, and by the end of the night this target would be dead. It's name was Isaac Silverstein, and it was part of the plague that corrupted humanity. By day this was a businessman, something that was targeted before, several of times in fact. Those that did business were no strangers to greed. Many where the slaves of it, willingly selling their souls for the power of paper. But that was where this target was different. Hacking and tracking through the encrypted files of his company were of little difficulty for the Artificial Intelligence, though deciphering the data was a far more difficult thing to do. Trying to find a reason, an explanation to his sales. It didn't make sense...

Truthfully, Zodiac was impressed. This was the mark of a man whom had fed upon the corruption of this world, and endured. Someone who knew how to play this game so precisely and so elegantly that it left Guilty Spark grasping for straws like a video-game theorist. He had to admit, he would never have even suspected, or considered looking at Isaac had it not been for their encounter. An encounter that took months for even Guilty Spark to analyze. Something he hadn't been expecting....

Spoiler:

The rain pelted down through the streets. Had he the capacity to feel could, he would certainly have been quivering in the cold. The rain bounced off of him, but taking loud slaps against his oversized grey trench coat, his hood up to conceal his face. The world was sick...dying... and there was only one way to fix it. So many people fell out of place, they wandered and suffered. They turned from their jobs to prey upon others, they allowed their ambition to give birth to malice and discourse. People are driven to acts of immorality, and even if morality did not matter...it lead to an illogical action.

Zodiac was in pursuit of an easy mark, a simple backroom dealer with some goods that he shouldn't have. He made his fast approach, however he found himself stunned to find them strung up from the streetlight, a noose around their neck as they dangled. It wasn't the first time he had seen a form of vigilante justice done before he could get down his list. However, this was the first particular time he had found them executed in this manner. What's worse, further investigation and research yielded that this was in fact a spread out case of fifty plus individuals strung up. Granted, two of those were immediately identified by Humanity as having been his doing, but the others?

Zodiac qucikly began to work on deducing the identity of this man, starting by a formal investigation regarding the victims. They had no mutual friends, they had seemingly no similarities at all. They only thing they seemed to show was the very ambition that Zodiac couldn't understand. They were all reaching higher, even when they had every reason to be content. Some of them were terrible people too, which made him doubt if this person was even truly worthy of being added to his list. As far as he could tell, they made his existence even easier. But he needed something more...he needed to know.

After the creation of an algorithm, Zodiac was able to create a psychological profile on all of the individuals within New Jersey that had been in a hospital or prison in the past 10 years. If they were employed by any major company that had a psychological evaluation, or any form of legal documents, he had them. That was the benefit of being what he was. Initially he was 12 separate entities sold off by GeneTech, ten years ago he was unrivaled technology, and even in modern day he proved vastly superior to even most other metahumans tech. There was a sense of pride in this, and it was what made him realize that he was so much more than a glorified secretary, psychologist, doctor and whatever other nine purposes of the V.I's had been.

He didn't receive the result he hoped. The Algorithm was ineffective in pinpointing who this "Hangman" was. But it did, give him a very prominent list of who could possibly be targeted next. For the next phase of his plan, he ran and planted small tracking disc's within the phones of the next targets with the highest percentage of being targeted. Guilty Spark would have a web of transmitted signals of the most likely to be attacked. Then, he waited...

When he finally hit a ping, he rushed over, arriving with furious speed. Finally he ended up near where he was to be, he quickly assumed his new shape, observing from the inconspicuous  background. But that was when he saw it... the man's face. Zodiac cared little for the victim. They got what they deserved. But this man...this face was the one responsible for the loss of so many that were too vague, or questionable at best. This man wasn't like Guilty Spark, despite the fact they perhaps aligned 83.2% of the time, there was the others...whatever this was the man had his own method of selection.

It took weeks to run facial recognition. There was nothing on him in the criminal files. Eventually he had to take to social media, and then switched over to pictures. To scour the entire internet for pictures regarding one person in the background, and then identify that person by pinpointing surrounding individuals and locations... even Guilty Spark had a difficult time. But finally... after even his supercomputer brain rattling and working...he got it...and he knew exactly how to send the message...

A picture flashed on the screen. A computer within the company, on the seat of the only person he would want to see it. In an off bright blue writing, tinted slightly green there were words flashing, a cowboy's lasso seemed to box around the words and a lopsided triangle, a play button. Dangling from the rope were small little loops with tied off knots just above them.

I know

If the play button were pressed, there would be a voice...it would have a slight accent, but it would play cleanly.

"Isaac...I've found it." He said, the voice echoed and the faint sound of water dropping could be heard, the droplets dripping into the puddles. The slight, creepy vibration of the voice echoing was matched only by it's almost smooth and flowing tone. "It was right there...hanging. Right where you left it. I tracked a target down but then...they didn't recognize me. They thought I was you. They wanted revenge. Gathering information. Don't worry...I've silenced them. There's only one thing left to do..."

"I'm going to come find you...." The voice trailed off, like a robot speaking as it's batteries died, a dawn out dying voice. The screen flashed an image before the computer itself shut down. The image was fleeting, but horrific. It appeared almost humanoid, with almost magnified blue eyes, a fixated look as the inhuman metallic features appeared. There was no mouth on the mask, a scratched and scarred lining that began to split in the mask, revealing a faint outline of fangs in a dire smile. The number 17:00:00 flashed on the screen, and then vanished. The computer completely powered itself down, and the countdown began.

It would be 17 hours that this "Hangman" had before his like-minded antagonist would meet. The research he did, the precautions he took...were all on him.

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Re: Through Silver In Blood. (Isaac Silver.)

Post by Nate6595 on August 15th 2018, 12:43 am

It was the nature of Isaac's life and business to receive threats of many different calibers. He manufactured and sold weapons, he had paid many lobbyists to defend the gun rights of US citizens, he took several measures both legally and illegally to get armaments in the hands of the public. A week didn't go by that he would not receive some form of threat, either from disgruntled mothers who lost their children, a political member who tried to pressure him into disbanding his legacy, and even the occasional noble soul who tried to appease to his sense of love, morality, and kindness. They were all fools. Petty children who could not grow up and live in this adult world. They wanted things to work their way, thinking their lives were special or had some greater value. They were the furthest thing from special, they were workers, wage slaves, miniscule ants who were only an annoyance. To sum it all up with a nice bow...they were living trash, and nothing would bring Isaac greater pleasure than to put them in their place. However, the unfortunate truth of the matter was that he could not, he didn't know where the cowards were hiding, and he had no means to pursue them.

Late this evening when Isaac had first received the threat from that bizarre and repulsive voice he was alone in his room. The hotel he was staying at was right across from his factory in this city.  As he sat there all by himself on the seventh floor he was filled with a strange...stirring of emotions. There was a moment in which he felt legitimate fear, after all he had been working closer to empowered people and had no idea what kind of attention that would attract, nor did he want the knowledge of his...other activities to be made public. That brief brush with fear was quickly cast to the side as Isaac gained a sense of confident eagerness, a tinge of annoyance, and the joyous satisfaction for what the obvious outcome would be. While he knew this threat could be a load of balderdash, mindless threats to make him worried, Isaac had a strange feeling from how it was presented, and there was tone in that lifeless voice. No, this was a serious threat. Furthermore, if this entity did in fact know of Isaac's less than pleasant pass time and even partially aided in the silencing of a mark he had failed to kill then...then this entity was probably empowered in some way, whether they be a meta or just on another level entirely. Isaac knew that his normal means of protection would not do for this situation. He had to go beyond, he had to lay a trap and ensure this being would pose no future threat to him.

He leaned back in his large, velvet plush chair, quietly thinking to himself. If this was a meta or something of that sort he would need the right pieces to lure his bait into a corner, he would need his dopples, those who could impersonate him. Furthermore, many metas had a bothersome habit of being more durable compared to his usual targets. The normal means for removing those who bothered Isaac would not cut it, he'd need something more...he knew what he needed there and where to place them. He could use hostages as well, but...no no. Hostages wouldn't do. The noble heroes that he had the most contact with tended to be more theatrical and less personal in their threats. Usually the threats he got from heroes were something along the lines of "You will be locked away for all the injustices you committed!" Or "You foul fiend! You'll pay for your actions!" Cliché and cheesy shit. The threat he received this evening sounded more like the actions of a vigilante or some loon with a sense of justice. For this, he would have to work just the dopples and the means to subdue his pursuer, he couldn't rely on any notions of good deeds they had. He would have to think more on other potential means to subdue to vigilante.

He leaned forward in his chair, reaching over to the top drawer. He pulled out a small black box that was filled with business cards and pulled out four, no...he reached back in and pulled out a fifth, five small cards each with a different name and number upon them. Pressing the intercom button on his phone he called in his personal butler, a man he never really learned the name of. He gave the butler the cards and told him to call these numbers and inform them to meet here. Once the butler left to make the calls Isaac started to make a few of his own. Step one was to call hotel security, he wanted it upped for the time he was going to be here, furthermore he wanted the cameras in his room disabled, not turned off, but unplugged and left no means to function. He couldn't have anyone look into what was going to go down. Following that call and ensuring the hotel was doing so Isaac made a second call, this one to his factory across the street. That's where the stage was to be set, where the trap would be set. He informed the head of security there to tell the workers they were getting off early today and would not need to come in tomorrow, everyone but the security team that was. In addition, further security would be hired, and they would be armed with heavier armaments, combat shotguns, assault rifles, top of the line handguns, a few would have grenades, and, just in case, there would be a few armed with melee weapons, sledge hammers, bats, and combat knives. While Isaac was aware of the efficiency of guns he was also aware that sometimes they couldn't do the job and a more direct method was needed. Sometimes obstacles couldn’t be put down with a gun, but with something more personal. The guards were to get rest tonight and would need to report back in twelve hours for a long shift. When the shift began they would be ordered to stay in high alert for the next twenty-four hours.

Before hanging up, there was one last request Isaac made. He wanted five security guards, any would do, to come over and report to Isaac for an important meeting, something that was of the utmost importance. With all that out of the way Isaac had time to mull things over. He had time to plan the next seventeen hours out, there was so much unknown to account for, unknown powers, the strength of his foe, if it was serious or not, and most importantly how he himself would avoid direct contact. That last bit was the most important. If he was to go against a meta or empowered person there was little hope for survival. He couldn't be too careless with his doings. Using phones at this point, radios, giving commands could not only potentially alert his foe of his plans, but also give away his location. He would have to be a member of the audience to get out of this one. Thankfully he had a plan as to how to communicate to his men and stay out of direct contact. That's where the five requested security would come in...

He quickly began to write down a list of orders and instructions, precautions to take if and when specific events went on. When the requested security arrived Isaac gave them their orders. Four of them would form groups of two and would operate two surveillance vans that would be linked to the cameras in the factory. The guards would be the eyes and would inform the factory guards of what course of action to take. The fifth guard would go back to the factory and pass around further instructions, orders that were to be memorized and then, if the orders were written down, disposed of. Once the guard finished passing around the instructions he would be tasked with going to the room besides Isaac’s main office in the factory, there he would continue the second part of his job. The requested guards all understood their job and got to work on their assigned tasks.

The next order of business was to go over the plan with the team he had asked his butler to retrieve. The team was lead into the hotel room by the butler who was sorry to say that one of the requested individuals could not come and that there were no replacements who could arrive in a timely manner. Unfortunate news, but Isaac would work with what he had, two actors to disguise themselves as Isaac, a makeup artist to complete the actor’s illusion, and a demolition expert who would be setting the trap. Thinking on it, there was another player he could use in this, someone he had overlooked at first, but still could have a use if need be. The butler. The butler was a bit short, but had a decent build to him, middle aged too. He could be a good candidate for the backup plan, but there would be time to discuss that after everyone here was told their role. The demolition expert was to set traps in five separate locations around the area, any more than those five locations would cause substantial damage that Isaac did not want to pay for. Following that, each of the dopples would be given a location they would need to be in, lines to read, and, if things went according to plan, recordings Isaac prepared to play for the coming enemy. The makeup artist would do everything in their power to make the actors look exactly like Isaac, using plastic masks, a whole lot of make-up, and outfitting them properly. By the end of the meeting everyone was set and ready to go. The plan was in place, the demolition man was working, the actors would reside in the hotel room tonight, and all that was missing was the antagonist. By the end of it they still had Nine hours to work with.

People were either working or resting, there was nothing else Isaac could at the time. He could sit up and worrying about each little thing that could go wrong or he could do the smart thing and sleep, be well-rested for the day to come. As he lay in his bed, waiting for sleep to take him he just stared up at the ceiling, thinking. He thought back to all those he had corrected, of those who tried to break the boundaries that held society together. He wondered which of the numerous killings he had failed to complete and how he had been do careless as to let himself be found out. He had always been so careful, so sure no one would catch on, but here he was. He turned his head and looked out the window, blinking once. Whoever was coming would have to be put in their place as well. Such offenses could not go overlooked. This scum, this vile cretin and imbecile did not know who they were dealing with nor did they understand their role of being beneath Isaac. That would all soon change...

The thought of correcting this lower being put a smile on Isaac's face and slowly he drifted off to sleep. When he awoke there were only two hours before the arrival of his foe. Everything he had planned was set up, there were surveillance vans set up, two escape vehicles one limo in the front and an armoured jeep in the back, the guards were in place, the traps had been set, and all the imposters. Three Isaacs walked out of that hotel room, each going to the location they needed to. The one leading the small group smiled at the other two and nodded. He made his way to the main office in factory where he'd wait patiently for his pursuer. The other two went the locations they were told to be in and waited there. Everything from the guards, the actors, and traps were in place.

The stage was set, all that was needed was the final performer. Isaac was ready to watch the show unfurl.
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Re: Through Silver In Blood. (Isaac Silver.)

Post by Zodiac on August 17th 2018, 10:15 pm

Guilty Spark had his own plans to make as he began to research into his enemies, and run algotithmic simulations. He wanted this to go without a hitch. By the end of the end of the night, he would have justice. He would expunge yet another portion of the collective corruption from our world. Though he couldn’t help but grow all the more curious. Why did this “Isaac” do that which he did. He knew that it was to teach a lesson, it was a response to how others conducted themselves. It was a response to ambition. But knowing it was a response didn’t teach Guilty Spark anything on his opponent. He needed to know more than the facts. He needed to understand. That was something he could not do on his own. Not without looking further into his adversary.

He would hack into anything and everything he could. Being that he out-hacked Lucius Alba and his brilliant A.I, that was saying something. But even Guilty Spark had his limitations. He wasn’t looking for dirt on Isaar, he wasn’t looking for more proof of guilt. He was looking for letters. Plain and simple emails, anything that seemed personal. But...there wasn’t any… They didn’t exist. Guilty Spark was left reeling through the possibility that they had somehow been purged from the internet. Their digital footprint altered and thrown off. He was determined, and began to follow through with the next most logical step. He started over.

There was a box. Within this box was everything that humans did, how they acted and reacted to stimuli. He needed to get a psychological profile on an enemy, and he needed to do so by thinking outside the box. But how would he manage to do that? He seemed to have no true “loved ones” that he communicated with via email. His modus operandi was consistent only in the fact victims were described as ambitious, determined...some of them two-faced others not. It was not a matter of morality, race, or creed. It was the determination, the ambition. But who would possibly target the ambitious few?

He sat in this warehouse for four hours in simple contemplation over why he might target these people. Again he had no avail. So once more, he would start over. Same information. Same result. Two more hours passed and he had nothing. He didn’t understand, he couldn’t possibly see any connections in WHY this man was doing what he was doing. Guilty Spark was so lost, so aimless in developing this profile. He needed help. It took him another hour just to come to terms with that fact. Reaching into his trench coat, he withdrew several quarters, rushing off towards the nearest payphone. He had wasted six hours. Eleven hours left.

Spoiler:

The phone rang, and rang, and rang. It didn’t take long, but for a being as fast as Guilty Spark...nothing could have taken longer. When the phone finally picked up, he was shocked to hear a gargled mess of infrasound, then suddenly the sounds of struggle ended and the sound of something being pried away from the phone. ”Great timing...”

”How could you have known?” Guilty Spark asked, curious over the capacity of the human to understand and predict who was calling him from a payphone.

”Zodiac? Awe shit. Wrong one.” The voice said, puzzling Guilty Spark before he realized that the man must have assumed wrong. There was the sound of a single shot before the man cleared his throat. ”So what’s up? Victor okay?”

”Affirmative. This is a call for assistance on a more personal designation.” Guilty Spark said, rushing the reassurance that the child was fine. He then made a noise as if he were clearing his throat.

”I-uh. I’m in Chicago. But that shouldn’t take long should it...like what, who minutes for you?””One minute, twelve seconds.” Guilty Spark responded, realizing that the question was rhetorical. It shifted it’s tone. ”I’m attempting construction of a psychological profile. The individual has no emails to loved ones, their method is by hanging their victims. Their victims have no distinguishable similarities other than the descriptions of their personality all have “determined” or “ambitious”. You are human, so I believe that if there were anyone to help me understand...”

”You might be thinking too much into it. He has no emails to loved ones? Well that means he doesn’t use Email...or he doesn’t have loved ones.” His advisor stated. He took a deep breath in and then cleared his own throat, the sound of another gunshot firing off. ”Death by Hanging tells me that they are trying to send a message. When he hangs the victims what knot does he use?”

”Slipknot, by the ears. It’s not a neckbreak. He intends for his victims to suffer.” Guilty Spark stated, almost as if trying to get ahead of his associate’s next question.

”But what for? The only common aspect we have is their ambitious desires. MY guess...if we go with that one. This is someone at the top of the totem pole. Like your father, except sketchy A-F.” Guilty Spark considered it for a moment, before he was taken by surprise a small bit by the man’s question. ”Zodiac, you can kill this guy right? If it’s nothing to worry about why build a Psych profile?” It was a rather pointed question. It was one that he had been asking himself the entire time he did this. Truthfully even he didn’t know for fact. But taking the time now, here, he was able to evaluate and ascertain the reasoning.

”I need to know...that he’s not like me...” Guilty Spark’s voice was a lower and softer tone than usual, almost as if he were asking it to the man. ”I need to know that he is not out ally. That he must die...but I cannot seem to find any answers.” It was a moment of silence before the automated woman reminded them that there were only two minutes remaining on the call.

”You’re working in the box still. Humans are complicated, and they can easily throw off a one-track mind. If someone has a weakness...psychologically...what do they do?” The question was quick, the slight sense of urgency might have been unnerving for another organic.

”...Hide it?” He asked, entirely unsure of his answer.

”Exactly. What better way to hide your weakness-”

”-Than disguise it as your strength...” Guilty Spark said, repeating his mentor’s adage with a very sudden revelation. There was a clack of Zodiac dropping the phone back on the hook and speeding off back to his remote location. He immediately considered The Hangman’s position within society and immediately began to look for any previous interviews he had been involved with. What better way to hide the fact you’re a horrible person than by being charismatic?

Ten hours down. Seven to go. Now he had a profile that fit, but needed to be tested. Perhaps this person would be more than reasonable. If the profile was correct, however, they had a rather crippling superiority complex, and anything that even remotely threatening or challenging of his perception of the status quo was something to be dealt with. It was incredibly fitting that he was an arms dealer. Now he had to determine a method in which to execute his plan. He began to consider all things. Metahuman bodyguards, metahuman destructive technology, flash grenades and cyborg lesbian nazi’s. He would especially never let THOSE get the better of him again, not after what happened with that swords-girl.

The Algorithm in his head continued to simulate and prepare him for many of the possible outcomes. He actually even adapted the parameters to be as difficult as he could make them. In this simulation, Isaac was the President of the United States while Atlas and Humanity were his personal bodyguards. Probability of success was 2:105025. Probability of survival in all circumstances was 0. Truthfully it was disheartening to know that no matter what, he was not on their level...but it prepared him. Presidential deception tactics, air force one levels of resistance.

He was ready...and it was time…

Guilty Spark arrived at the Factory building at exactly the 17th hour. He was out in the open, walking up to the gates. He looked the factory over, knowing all too well that this was going to be a bloodbath. He contemplated removing his inhibitors, for the sake of sparing lives...however if they were willing to stand for the corruption, they were enabling the corruption. They too, must pass. There was a small booth with two armed men standing as he approached. He didn’t get within twenty yards before guns were trained on him. Unfortunately for them, they didn’t get their shots off. Guilty Spark raised his hand, his forearms broke into fours, branching out before a black tendon-like substance slung forward, propelling his fingers from the handplate and into the armed men’s foreheads. Rushing up to the gate, with his one hand still intact, he retrieved his fingers from the two men’s corpses and allowed his hand plate to open. His next move was a simple one. He walked over towards the booth. The guard tripped the silent alarm, but as he went to raise his gun, the man he would fire upon was no longer there. He backed away, his heart beating quickly as he turned to the door, opening it and stepping out, clearing both sides before he started to calm himself. He reached up to his shoulder and pressed the button on his walkie.

”He’s on the premises! I repeat He’s on the premises! He’s armed with appears to be crossbows on his wrists.” The man said, ensuring that the being didn’t do anything to block the silent alarm. He lowered his gun for a moment and turned back around, dumbfounded as to what had just happened. He wasn’t sure what he had just seen, even with the dim lighting.

It wasn’t much longer that he walked over to see that another of the guards was missing their walkie and ear-piece. The assailant must have taken it when he went to retrieve his ammo. The guard raised his hand again to grab the button, only to realize that there was a faint breathing coming across the feed. The guard was frozen stiff as he looked out past the gate, seeing a few bodies littering the ground. Were they alive? Probably not. Then the chilling, rasping voice came across.

“Isaac...are you here? It’s me…. I’m here to talk. We don’t need guns for that.” The rasping type of breath echoed oddly through the radio as Guilty Spark stepped from the shadows within the gated area and casually began walking towards the factory’s front entrance. Oddly enough, Guilty Spark truly had every intention to simply talk. He had SOME semblance of honor, after all. He would never say he was here to talk, only to meet with someone and kill them. He would tell them he was here to kill them then kill him. Lying was only too human for him...however, he was interested to see what kind of heavy resistance he would meet, walking through the main door like this.

His hands were twitching with anticipation, wondering if the automatic lights would turn on to reveal twenty rocket-propelled firearms aimed at him, deployed turrets or some form of metahuman army. He had to steel himself at this moment, no matter how ironic that phrasing was. This was not a simple assassination. This was not a simple scrubbing of a stain off of the human race. This was, without a doubt, one of his most important missions of his life. Tonight he would see the face of a human being, perhaps talk to them...and decide for himself. Were they like him, or was he like them?

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Re: Through Silver In Blood. (Isaac Silver.)

Post by Nate6595 on August 31st 2018, 4:16 pm

The wait was always the worst part.

As a child Isaac (1) was raised to a family who had not known wealth or was particularly high in society, he was middle class. His mother and father did their best to try and show him that it wasn't so bad being here, that people didn't need money to be happy or to have high standings. They had fooled his brother into believing this lie, but Isaac knew better. In the years to come they wouldn't be an issue anymore, a relief that would send Isaac further on his path. Part of the memory made his stomach churn in an distasteful way, he felt a bit sad and had a pretty good idea of why that was. It was disgusting to think he had come from such a class, it couldn't be anything else. His parents were awful, his brother believed them, but in the end he had climbed to where he deserved to be. It wasn't an easy climb, but like now, he had to wait for what was coming to him, regardless of how dreadfully slow it as. In the meantime, Isaac would just sit and wait, sitting in front of the window and looking down into the front plot, waiting for his assailant to come...

And then...there he was. An odd looking man that peaked Isaac's curiosity. He watched with interest as the assassin quickly subdued two of his guards like they were nothing, but had left enough time for one to trip the alarm and send out a radio message. It made Isaac smile. Not because the man had been careless, no that's not the kind of person his pursuer was. No, he wanted a challenge. He wanted to see what Isaac was going to throw at him. How many people was this man willing to kill in order to achieve their goal? The answer was probably as many people as needed. There would be no limit. It was something that Isaac understood all to well. When Isaac would chase down a victim, a pitiful scum who tried to rise up above their place, he always wanted...always looked forward to the ways they would resist them. He enjoyed that rush, that feeling of danger.

He would have to oblige his assailant.

It was at that moment that the radio call came in. Not one from his guards, no, it was from the man himself. Amazing. Moreover, the man wanted to talk. Obviously if Isaac agreed he'd be killed, but it was still incredible that this man was taunting him so. It was tempting to take, but Isaac already knew what he had to say, or at least, knew what he wanted to say. He knew better than to reply and give away his position. He had a plan and he would stick to it. Luckily, the words that were to be said were already chosen, lines written by Isaac would that would be conveyed. He had spent a good hour composing the perfect lines replying to a series of different situations, statements, or questions directed to him. He needed his dopples to be able to play the part without flaw, he couldn't allow for his assailant to catch onto the fakes and discover his real location. He gritted his teeth together, it was so hard not to actually talk to his pursuer directly.

In the office that overlooked the yard Isaac (2) slowly reached over to the radio and took in a deep breath. A challenge had been made and it was time for the plan to be set in motion. He clicked the button on the side of the radio and in clear, cool tone he began to speak. "You had a chance to talk when you first sent the message. You've threaten me, come to my place of business, and killed a few of people already. I think we've had another time for communication. Though, make it to me and I'll consider your offer. I am sure there is plenty we can discuss and it would actually be interesting to speak with you. I look forward to seeing you face to face." There was a brief pause, one moment, two moments, three moments, then the fourth came. "Men, radios off. It's time to put forward the plan." There was another brief pause. "And before I leave you, my assailant, I do hope you like classical music. I tried to pick something we could all enjoy. I would hate for either of our last moments to be in a relaxed environment." The radio was then hung up and all the lines went down. After a few more moments the PA system would go on and loud classical music blared through the speakers. It was a very generic sounding song, a bit upbeat with a lot of strings. It filled every inch of the factory, but not to a level that could be found annoying or disruptive. It was actually rather pleasant, an odd touch to the evening that was sure to be filled with death and destruction.

Isaac(2) sat back in the high back rolling chair, letting out a heavy breath. He had a strange feeling tonight would be his last night on this earth. He was more than okay with that, he had a good life and his family would be taken care of if he was to pass on. That was a relief at least. He had played his role well as well, nearly flawless in his head. He was good at what he did, but his mind kept drifting back to his potential demise. He wondered if it would be painful and how his pursuer would do it. What would the assassin look like? It was an odd sounding voices, but would the face match the voice? Isaac took another heavy breath and shook his head. It wouldn't be long now until he heard gunshots, potentially screams or yells. God, he hoped that the music would drown that out. The men were ready to meet the same fate as him, though, they would probably be putting up more of a fight.

In that first room where Spark would enter through there would be six guards waiting. Three of them would be hiding behind the long front desk, aiming their guns at the door, reading to fire as soon as they would open. To the right and left of the door there would be two more guards, out of sight and waiting to tackle the pursuer down. The sixth guard had decided to go for a more stealth approach to the entire problem. Further to the right of the main door there was a vending machine which had been powered down. He had climbed to the top of it and was ready to fire if the man walked towards the desk, trying to perform a hidden strike. The six guards in the room could feel the tension rising, they knew they couldn't use the heavy firepower yet, it was part of the instruction and they had yet to get the right signal to do so yet. The other guards all around the base would get in similar positions, aiming at doorways with some of their lighter firearms. Like the guards in the first room, they could feel the tension rising, they could feel it in the air. It was only a matter of time before they would meet the assassin.

Further along the way, in the back garage of the factory two more Isaacs waited, one by an armored jeep and the other by a limo. They had been waiting quietly, not really communing with each other, just standing there minding their own business. Neither had wanted to get to know other mainly due to the fact that either one of them or both could end up dead by the end of this all. No point in getting to know a corpse. When the music had come on they both flinched slightly, their quiet prayers for an uneventful night was not met. They both looked to each other and nodded. They slowly climbed into the backseat of the vehicles and buckled in. It would be a wild ride. The garage doors slowly opened the drivers turned on the engines. They didn't leave quite yet, they needed to wait for the right signal or until they saw the assailant. If they left to early, they would lose their chance. Everything tonight had to go flawlessly.

So far so good.

Isaac(1) watched from his overlook, watching down at the doors of his factory, waiting for the man to actually go in. Isaac's men were all in position, the actors had taken the stage and act one was in progress. Tonight would be a show that Isaac would take great joy in. He nodded his head slightly. "Good luck, my assassin. Make tonight an entertaining one. Please don't let me down."
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Re: Through Silver In Blood. (Isaac Silver.)

Post by Zodiac on September 12th 2018, 3:57 am

The factory was a welcome relief from the oxygen outside. Despite lacking the obvious lungs, Guilty Spark found it much more complimentary to be indores. There were several reasons for this. Of course, none of those reasons provided any form of logical or statistical differences within his performance. He simply had his preferences when it came to weather. It had a certain way of making his mechanisms...dare he say “feel”? He stepped into the room and immediately began to acknowledge what he was looking at. There were noises that rang out. Auditory processing allowed him to calculate the caliber of each weapon fired, allowing him to ascertain the level of weaponry he was up against. Two guards, one on either side of the door to tackle him at the waist, came forward. They were so slow, but he would enjoy watching them close in. There was no need to expose your hand so early in the game. He placed a bet, and the Hangman called. Time to up the ante. The men both wrapped up on his waistline, though he was obviously a lot more heavy than they had anticipated. Guilty Spark stood there a second as one of the guards shouted out. Guilty Spark’s attention was caught to the subtle clanking of metal behind the desk.

With a heightened sense of urgency, Guilty Spark brought his right arm up with a fierce speed, forcing the man latched to his right side to fly up and hit the ceiling. Quickly picking up his left leg he shifted it to the side, the same arm twisting up as he calculated how to leverage the first guard’s momentum. With the man off leverage, Guilet Spark held him in front of him as a loud barrage of bullets began to hail at him. There was a loud crashing noise as the man collided with the ceiling, letting out a slight yelp as he came crashing to the ground. The man in front of him began soaking up bullets, though Guilty Spark still registered several areas of impact to his own person, his torso.

He’s armored, and they’re still making it past me. Auditory data indicates that these are the same caliber noises as a FEMAS, but the bullets are modified. Piercing ammunition, to go through this much armor, and this much fleshbag. This is ballistic beyond military level. Prototypes. The thoughts registered quick enough as Guilty Spark began to process dissatisfaction with his current meat-shield and its inability to actually shield bullets. What good was a bullet sponge that wouldn’t shield against bullets? After the barrage stopped for a moment, Guilet Spark released his one-hand grip on the man, letting his corpse fall to the floor. The guard that hit the ceiling was not armed and on the floor, aiming a shotgun straight for the would-be assassin. Guilty Spark turned to look at him, and faster than cameras could process, the man was standing lifted up, standing as Guilty Spark wrapped an arm around his neck with a hand on the man’s bicep as he kept the gun aimed exactly where he wanted it. The man pulled the trigger, only to find that he was now opening fire at the desk of his three comrades.

”Thank you for your flesh-prints.” Guilty Spark said as he released the man’s arm and placed his grip on the shotgun’s barrel. He pulled his metallic arm across the man’s throat, his arm vibrating at almost unfathomable speeds, causing his throat to slice, arterial blood spurting out in spewing strands. The body dropped, choking as he kept the shotgun as a momento. With confidence he stepped over the body, pumping the barrel as he shot from the hip, taking shots with yet another prototype weapon. The PA system was letting out an elegant and beautiful melody. It was almost, plain and simple, but a perfect mixture of string and brass. The harsher moments actually made it difficult for Guilty Spark to isolate specific audible sources. It was only due to the high caliber of the weapons and their distinct residual sonography that he could begin to comprehend them. The hired help wasn’t for nothing it would seem, as Guilty Spark had yet to kill one that wasn’t in an immediate proximity.

They actually proved to be incredibly competent. They knew that with a Shotgun that Guilty Spark had a cone in which he could spread his wrath. But they also acknowledged that as he walked closer, that cone was closing, they knew he’d need to focus fire one if they spread themselves out. It was a sacrifice one of them had to make, but they did so without hesitation. What a wonderful life it was. The sound of the pellets impacting the wall were drowned out by the almost haunting melody. Everything needed to be well thought out, there could be no proof of his existence. But that would be a little more difficult, these weren’t your everyday fleshbags. Guilty Spark was actually… Impressed. They caught on like soldiers, cunning ones. The ones that survive. Everything they did was methodical too. The only difference? They were born, he was built.

”I’m impressed. If any of you actually survive, I’ll come back for you. You can work for me…” He muttered under his breath. He pumped again before finally reaching the large desk and aiming over. The shotgun was gripped and thrown off to the side, the butt of an assault rifle smashing right into Guilty Sparks’ face. To continue to keep his appearance as human, he did as he was instructed by his mentor. He staggered back, turning to see he was being flanked by both sides of the wide desk, guns raised. He barreled backwards and dove to the nearest point of cover, bullets on his tail. He scampered to his feet, back against the large decorative pillar. He’d be pinned down at this point, he didn’t have much that he could do, save for some of his former tricks. He still had a moment left to play with his prey. He held out his had, the center of his palm breaking apart as little metallic matter seemed to gather in his hand from his palm, the mechanical buzzing was drowned out by the music, allowing him to only feel the vibration of his synthesis. Pieces began to shift from his hand and plating moved, transformative clicks and metallic growls softly coming to an end. A small set of three throwing knives.

They wouldn’t let him stay here. Not for long. They had the advantage, as far as any of them knew. Guilty Spark began to calculate. He observed the factory walls, the rafters and their placement. Their steps were soft, he couldn’t isolate it over the music. The gunfire, however? That was something he could isolate. With a slight prediction of trajectory, requirements of force and geometric calculation, Guilty Spark made his move. He turned out from behind the pillar and threw two knives. But neither of them were anywhere towards the soldiers. One went up to the ceiling, with a loud clang it bounced off the metallic rafter and fell heavy directly into one of the soldier’s shoulders. The second of the knives went out and stuck itself straight where it wasn’t supposed to be. It ended up straight in the wooden backlining behind the welcoming desk. He let out a growl as he left himself exposed. It was supposed to be just him and one gunner, not the second. Too much stimuli for his processing systems to keep up with. Unless he wanted to eliminate his limiter, he was going to need to take it slow. Oh how he hated it… but for now, he needed just another moment to see what else they had planned. There was still one hired goon he didn’t even see yet, or hear.

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Re: Through Silver In Blood. (Isaac Silver.)

Post by Nate6595 on September 14th 2018, 6:48 pm

Two guards, not in the room where Guilty Spark had first entered started his slaughter, watched the assassin work. Their keen eyes watched the man's movements and how he subdued the other guards, the methods and tools he used. They tried to figure what was working against the assassin and what wasn't. It seemed as though the normal means weren't quite cutting it, but they were still waiting for the guard in hiding to act. That guard would be a key part in what they would do and the orders they would give. For now, one of the guards in one of the vans tapped the driver of said van and made a swirling finger motion, telling him to go on. The driver nodded, picked up his cell-phone and made the call.

Back in the factory, though still not in the room where Guilty was fighting, another guard heard the song start to fade into silence and soon the radio host would begin talking. Before the radio host began talking the guard turned the PA system off, then after a few quiet moments, once the next song started up. It was very similar to the first song that played, the same instruments and tones, it was in the same overall genre. However, now back in the room where Guilty Spark was fighting, the guard without the knife in shoulder would have seemed to hesitate for a moment, also seeming to take up defensive positions.

When the music passed the guard would take a more offensive position, though still keeping in his cover. The guard with the knife in his shoulder would've fallen to the ground, grunting and groaning with pain. "GAH FUCK!" He shouted, in pain. The shoulder was a very sensitive part of the human body, a knife stuck in there was far from a pleasurable experience. Slowly he had tried to move himself out of the way of the other guard and Guilty Spark, he knew him being there would only make it harder to take down this bastard. "Butch, take the fucking shot on this guy!" Despite the pain he was still trying to be an asset to their cause. If he managed to get away he would position himself behind a cabinet behind the desk. If not, well...he'd be where Guilty Spark wanted him.

Regardless of whether the guard had made it to cover or not, the guard that was in the offensive position, Butch as the other guard called him, would let out a small burst of fire, trying to keep the assassin suppressed. He would conserve his ammo, trying not to completely empty his clip. He didn't reply to his injured comrade either. Their orders weren't to engage in conversation with the assassin, only to subdue him by any means necessary, or at least aid in whatever way they could. Butch had no intention of dying here, but against this fiend...he was beginning to doubt his chances. Hopefully his supressive fire would allow his friend in hiding to take the shot needed to take out this guy. If they could get one good hit off of this guy they would now how to take him down, know what it would take to actually kill him. Until then he would continue his assault. If not...and this assassin got too close...he had grenade ready. He would at least take the bastard out with him.

Over on the vending machine where the other guard in the room was hiding had been waiting for the right moment. They had a high powered rifle, though it would take a second or two to reload and if he gave his position too soon he would be a goner. He had been a veteran before signing up to be a merc, he had lost friends for making that mistake before. Though, this...thing...this assassin was nothing like what he saw out on the battlefield. This was inhuman, this was a monster only bent on killing and destruction. His shot would have to count. Even if he was to fail in taking down the monster, if it could at least damage it or provide info to the people watching the fight then...then that would be enough.

He waited for a high in the song and cocked his gun, hoping between the gunfire of Butch and the sound of the music that the noise wouldn't be heard. While the assassin was taking up that defensive position he lined his shot and...he pulled the trigger, saying a quiet prayer to whatever was above in the hope that something would answer. He just wanted this night to end, he had a friend here upstairs who had a wife who was waiting at home for him, it was her birthday for fuck's sake. There was another man, a good guy, his son was in the hospital right now and he needed this money to pay for a surgery. He had spoken to another man who had taken this job only so he could save his dog who also needed a surgery! There were good people here, they didn't deserve the fate that these men here had suffered. He just needed this shot to do something.

The shot that was fired would be heard throughout the factory. Isaac (2) looked up from his desk as the sound reached his office. Things were already heating up and he knew it wouldn't be long until the pursuer would be in his office. Would there be talk or would the assassin just kill him right where he stood? Would the assassin agree to take a seat and have a talk? Would he fall for that trick? Isaac (2) doubted it highly, but...if he got this far Isaac (2) would do everything he could to stall for the two Isaacs (3+4) in the garage. They would be able to get away and to an airport if the assassin reached Isaac (2), or at least that was the plan. There was the backup if they couldn't, but Isaac (2) didn't want that.

Isaac (2) leaned into his chair and began to think of the other men throughout the factory. If the assassin went to doorway behind the desk he would find the staircase leading up to the second floor where he would come to a hallway with a few more men, guns aimed at the staircase. The men on the second floor were also armed with grenades and higher powered weapons, things that would cause collateral, but up here it didn't matter as much. If the assassin had decided to go to the doorway to the right he would find the manufacturing section of the factory, that's where the guns were actually made. There would twenty-five of the guards in there, that's where the majority of them were holding out. The manufacturing section also connected to the garage where the other two Isaacs (3+4) waited in their cars, waiting to drive off. Finally, if the assassin had decided to go left he would enter another hallway lined with doorways into small offices. There several guards waited in each of the ten rooms, waiting to ambush the assassin.

Of course, the assailant would have to make it passed the entrance room. With any luck...that would be the only room the assassin would get to.

Back in the entrance room, the guard on the vending machine had finished praying and had taken the shot, hoping it had done the trick. Regardless of whether not it did or not, he would loading in a new shot, just in case. Hopefully he'd have the time to actually do so. Butch, the other guard, was still firing, even after the high powered shot was fired, getting closer and closer to the bottom of his clip, hoping this damned bastard would go down. The third guard, the injured one on the ground, unless he was moved, would groan in pain, but still look over to see how his two comrades were doing, praying himself that this would be over.
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