Only on topic RPG posts here please.
The 4:30 plane from New York to England is boarding in 20 minutes. Passengers from all walks of life will be boarding, from the young and weak to the old and wise. Security seems tenser than usual, and there is a general feeling of unrest in the air. Visually, everything seems normal, yet there is something wrong, but no one trusts their instincts enough to skip the flight. A decision they will soon regret.
A slender red haired women stood in the front of the mirror in the staff women's washroom in the airport, one hand pressed against her ear, the other adjusting the sleeve of her uniform to cover her tattoo, a basic sketch of a human eye with a gear in the middle instead of a pupil. "Yes, I understand, sir", she hissed into her shirt collar. She reached into her purse and pulled out a blonde wig. Sighing anxiously, she slipped it over her own hair. "Don't worry, Operation GuineaPig is in action. Everything is going as planned. Devastation Island will have its new inhabitants by 1900." Reaching into her purse once again, she fished through the compact weapons and communication devices for her crimson lipstick. Smiley devilishly, she flipped the switch on her mic. "I guarantee it".
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Devastation Island RPG Has Officially Started!!!!!
All the characters start in the New York Airport. They are getting ready to board a plane to England, which takes off in 20 minutes. Some of you are scrambling, others are all ready to board in the lobby. Please include in your first post the reason you are boarding this plane. The first 20 minutes before the plane takes off will most likely take up the rest of today, then we will board tomorrow.
From now on, here are the times you can expect my posts:
9:00 am PST
1:30 pm PST
9:00 pm PST
If you have any questions please express them in the Off Topic Discussion and put one of these * at the top of your post.
Tyler sat quietly waiting in the lobby. He was on his way to England to see his great aunt. It took him forever to convince his grandmother to let him go, but he managed with the help of his grandfather. He liked to do things like this, proving that just because he was blind did not mean he couldn't take care of himself. Tyler had learned many ways of coping with being blind and now hardly anyone could tell. He preferred to keep it secret and did quite a good job at keeping his mask up.
Planes were not Tyler's favourite things though. To small and enclosed with no real way of understanding where you were. Too many people chattering at the same time in the small area. It was the same for the other ways of transportation and of all of them he liked to walk. Still to get to England he had no choice but to go by plane.
He sat back in his seat and closed his eyes. A hobby of his (if you want to call it a hobby) was listening in on other people’s conversations. It was one of the few ways to keep him entertained and he quite enjoyed it.
Helbrig made his way through security and got to his seat as fast as he could. He didn't enjoy airports. The flying was fine, but the people were annoying. The constant jostling never failed to put him in a bad mood. As soon as he got to his seat he put in his Skullcandys and blocked out the world with the sound of Avenged Sevenfold.
"Yes, I'll be there. For sure." I said into the pay-phone. "Your package is outside of gate B2, the flight is leaving in twenty minutes." Came from the other end. "Are all three of my bags on the plane?" I asked. "No. The red one is being flown on another flight." I slammed my fist into the phone-box, outraged that it wouldn't be on the plane. "How soon will I get it, Cleff?" I asked. "Four hours after you land. It's the quickest they could do." Cleff replied. "Fine. Just don't expect to be paid properly." I said as I hung up the phone. Turning around, I noticed two men dressed completely in black, walking towards them, I held up my hands slightly. "Bag two isn't making it on our plane, which may I remind you, is in sixteen minutes." I told them. One of the nearby flight boards flashed, and announced that our flight from New York to England is calling for the second to last boarding. "Better go now," I thought. Walking to the lady at the gate desk, the taller of the pair with me brushed passed me, pulled out ID's and tickets, handing them to her. "Interesting names. Kota, Jeke and Derek." The lady said, staring at Derek. Derek ignored her, took our stuff back and walked into the gate tunnel. Derek whispered loudly "Three bends." Jeke nodded, waited by the gate door and started asking the lady beside him useless questions. Derek was up ahead, causing trouble as he acted like he was too nervous to board the flight. There! I quickly walked over to the egde, looking down through the small slit as I crouched, grabbing a small black case, lifting it up and through, I tucked it under my coat. Jeke raised his voice as the lady, causing a guard to come over. I rounded the last bend in the tunnel, nodding to Derek. Derek finally went through, and the airflight assistant sighed with relief, putting her hand to her forehead. I walked through with no problem. Jeke came in after another minute, meeting up with us. Seats, we need seats in the back. I led the way, walking to the back of the plane. Noticing all kinds of people I already hated. Especially the older ones. Getting to the seats in the back, we sat down. I slid the case under my seat, buried in my jacked.
(By the way, excellent band, Mike.)
Raven stood in the lobby, listening to her music. Today was a strange day; thus, hre listening to Cascada today. Heading to England as part of a student exchange problem is rather strange when you're used to America. England was like another planet. Driving on the other side of hte road. Fries being called "chips". Royalty. Madmen in blue boxes called Tardis. It all was so strange yet so wonderful!
Monica flipped a page of her magazine. Fashion 10, something she was totally into. She rolled her eyes, never able to understand why perfectly normal girls would starve themselves until they were nothing but bones and then become the idols of America. "Copy us!" they seem to cry. Yet who in their right mind would want to be like that? There was a small scuffle near the boarding gate and she looked up to see a man in black drawing the attention of security guards. Monica shifted so she could keep an eye on her own "package" while watching closely to make sure no trouble ensued.
Eventually the man boarded the plane. Two others did at the same time. She frowned. Interesting. Naturally her job made her suspicious, but she knew strange behavior when she saw it. She would have to keep an eye on that trio. Just as a precaution.
Monica checked her pages again. It wasn't really a fashion magazine, of course. She had cut and glued the cover of some popular magazine onto her own magazine. Sure it had clothes in it, but not the kind that normal Americans wore. Or even knew about for that matter. Even spies have to get new clothes sometimes. Not ordinary clothes, but ones specially designed to do special things. Life saving things..... like deflecting bullets.
The butt of her gun was suddenly irritating. Monica changed position once again. Leaning against one of the supporting pillars of the large lobby area of the terminal allowed her a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree surveillance post while still providing something at her back. The optimum place to be. She checked her watch. The flight was due to board soon. She wondered how much longer she would have to wait.
Tyler boarded the plane.
After some careful listening the found which way the numbers were going and counted his way to his seat. Taking a deep breath he plopped himself into the seat and closed his eyes. The sounds were overwhelming and it reminded him of the time he first went in a car after the crash. It drove him insane and in the end he had opened the door and flung himself out. He was lucky they were only driving through a neighbourhood and going slow, but he still managed to get fairly banged up. Now in a plane there was no escape and he was forced to sit for a long time. He tried to concentrate on listening in on one couples conversation, but it was nearly impossible. He realized he had been wreathing in his seat and he forced himself to sit still practising deep breaths.
(Yay. I get attention(= )
"Good Afternoon, sir. Can I get you anything before we take off?"(Prev) "No. I'm fine." I answered. Looking away. "Actually," I said as I turned back to her. "Can we change positions of other passengers on this flight?" I asked, looking her up and down. If anything, I'd like this ridiculously dressed punk to leave my side, not only is she annoying, her makeup reeks. Oh well. Soon too soon.
Ying had arrived at the airport early and made it through security with little trouble, but she had put off actually boarding the plane until the last minute. She wasn't afraid of flying exactly, she just didn't like being crowded in a small area with so many people and having to put her life in the hands of two total strangers that she might never even meet. As she boarded the plane, she instinctively scrutinized her surroundings and fellow passengers. She had passed a a girl, about her own age, in the lobby who seemed unusually alert as she read some silly fashion magazine. Another girl, 16 or 17 years old seemed very uncomfortable about the news report on Thomas Hall, and snapped at an elderly lady who had attempted to speak to her. Also a young man who seemed very upset by a phone call he had just finished. The young man drew Ying's attention when he was approached by two men all in black. She watched as the checked in, then caused some sort of disturbance on the plane. On the plane itself she was passed by a 17 year old boy who seemed to be having a little trouble navigating the crowded aisle. His eyes didn't focus on anything either, though he seemed to being paying close attention to his surroundings. He's blind! Ying was surprised and a little impressed. He seemed to cope quite well with his handicap. Ying's seat was right next a young man wearing a black t-shirt with a grotesque picture of a man in clown make up with the words "Why so serious?" on the front. His hair was dark and long with scarlet streaks, and some sort of obnoxious music, heavy metal or grunge she guessed, was blaring through his headphones. As Ying sat down, she heard a girl a few seats back, the same one that had snapped at an elderly lady, screaming about gum on her seat. Ying rolled her eyes. Had this girl lost touch with reality? Of course there was someone's old gum on the plane. Welcome to public transportation, Sister.