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Post by sarune on Jul 13, 2018 18:51:25 GMT
A former market centre on the fifty-fifth floor, the Demora District was once one of the main reasons many travellers came to Leva III in search of flattering deals and extravagant fortunes that could be earned by anyone with the nerve to claim it. That was long ago, however, and what remains of the once affluent region is a mere shadow of its former splendour warped and twisted by age and rust.
The lack of functioning maintenance droids is strongly felt as former skyscrapers are left in turmoil their outer casings rusted beyond recognition for the few that still remain even as others have fallen and crashed to the ground below. It is difficult to imagine the streets having once been in spotless condition as the rubble from destroyed buildings meets with the refuse of a once living city long deserted. If not for the utter lack of life it wouldn’t be difficult to imagine nature taking over again, but even that has been snuffed from existence as toxic mists cover the area making it uninhabitable for most organics.
Of those who could survive however even they stay clear of the wasteland, fearful of the Dremora Brotherhood. One of the worst gangs on Leva III, who have turned the few still functioning buildings in the sector into their own personal play areas, with a liberal use of crimson paint and stark white gang tags that try to cover up the worse of the damage, with very little success.
Not that they’ve ever really tried to fix the district, as the numerous bodies that commonly litter the walkways like everyday scrap proclaim.
In fact, only the Brotherhoods primary headquarters can be considered even remotely, clean. A result of the numerous fortifications and redesigns that had led to the former shopping mall resembling a fortress more than any luxury shopping centre.
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Post by Nayeli on Aug 13, 2018 0:41:47 GMT
"I'll be off now. Try not to miss me too much hmm?" She gave Crackdrive a wink before the elevator opened once more.
Upon the slum-like district being revealed, the black and blue femme bolted faster than her whip could crack, transforming and boosting herself onto the roof of one of the buildings in order to keep her presence unknown. Her bioluminescent light died out, in order to better hide her silhouette within the dim light. She studied the area for a moment, her magenta gaze scanning every building and life form she spotted moving below. The femme stayed silent, her systems resembling that of an empty husk with how silently they ran. Nayeli dashed over the buildings, keeping her steps light and leaving little evidence of her form behind, heading for the place she was told to survey. The Dremora Brotherhood sure likes making a mess... She frowned at how filthy the area was, not use to such a low class area underfoot.
The closer her goal got the more she slowed down and become more alert, keeping low and stalking around on all fours while keeping her optics on the roads below and ceiling above. It was definitely eerie, how the area was nothing but a wasteland and the buildings creaked with fatigue, threatening to crumble into mere dust. Eventually she made it to an opening that seemed rather favored due to how many were gathered within. The femme was high enough to ease her worries and begin watching, wings flicking back in case she needed to get out of a sticky situation.
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Post by Backbeat on Aug 13, 2018 6:39:52 GMT
Backbeat's vehicle mode roared down the uneven road as he approached the Demora District. His home away from home away from home away from home. Backbeat's not an actual member of the brotherhood... But he was friends with a few higher ups, and a regular mercenary they hired for odd jobs. Currently, he was suppose to meet with a regular contact. The meeting point was outside of their stronghold, Backbeat would transform as he got nearer to the Brotherhood territory. He slowly walks through the street, it might be a burned out husk of a cityscape... But at least it was devoid of most signs of life.
' Been a while since I've been down here... Hasn't changed a bit. '
He mused to himself as he walked, the Brotherhood knew he was coming and knew what he'd do to them if they were gonna double cross him. Well they didn't exactly know what he'd do, but they probably got the general idea. He wasn't sure if he had anymore Nano-bomb laced bullets either, did he use them all on his last job here? Backbeat hoped not, those impressed the hell out of that one girl he met at the bar a week ago. She was an organic, but seemed to have a thing for illegal weapon mods and post-expressionist disco-chess. He paused for a minute, before continuing. It was the acid pellet rounds she was interested in! Backbeat then wonders if he had any of those as he continues his trek.
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Post by sarune on Aug 24, 2018 23:28:34 GMT
Stuck only with Nayeli as company in the elevator, Crackdrive would admit seeing her disappear into the horizon the moment the elevator door opened was satisfying. In part it was simply the fact he wouldn't have to deal with the femme anytime soon, a blessing considering her attitude had hardly clicked with his own, not that he had really attempted to make their journey any easier on the femme. It hadn't been his job to do so after all and there was little reason to build up some false camaraderie when by all means she was heading into a hellhole while he headed back off to civilisation, it had been better this way, getting the information she needed to her and ensuring she knew the tone of this world from the moment she stepped foot on it. He'd practically done her a favour in fact.
"Better than most get around here. Lucky glitch." He grumbled as he reactivated the elevator and left floor fifty-five behind. The smell, however, was here to stay. "Fragger owes me the cleaning bill." Crackdrive grunted, desperate for the sweet-smelling smoke of a cy-gar as his thoughts drifted and he headed for the nearest contamination spray.
---
Created long ago the twin pines shopping centre was almost unrecognisable, with only the basic shape remaining identifiable for those who remembered its previous use, although even then multiple additions over the years had left even that slightly wrong. Which said nothing for its general state of disrepair, with much of the former gleaming white structure having turned to a rusted brown and orange which left it camouflaged between the wreckages of nearby tower buildings. The remains of one building had actually even tipped over, spilling across the roof of the mall and although it had somehow remained standing there had been little sign of an attempt to clean up the debris which littered the ceiling and spilled out into the surrounding area.
That wasn't to say the former shopping centre was uninhabitable however, for although the nearby chemical spillages and general waste left the district inhospitable for the majority of organics, it was still survivable for Cybertronian life. Which was just one of the many reasons the structure had become the headquarters of the Demora Brotherhood. A fact they showed off through a liberal use of their emblem a half-closed circular gate with spiked ends coloured in blood red which had been splattered all across the mall. The most popular of which was a hundred foot wall which had been created by the Brotherhood made of scrapmetal and the few pieces of reinforced alloys they could garner during raids off world, which they had then used to surround their headquarters from all directions on foot.
It was perhaps with their emblem in mind, unsurprising that the main gate had a similar design, although formed of the wreckage of a capital ship blast door it was clear when opened the door would part into two separate sections although for now, while closed it created a massive circular door. The mismatch of spikes that had been shoved on top where hardly the intimidating sight intended.
Not that anyone was willing to tell their boss Quadrack though, it had been his decision to add spikes to the door and by now everyone had simply accepted to allow any of his more bizarre eccentricities for the betterment of their own health. After all, around here the general rule was simply not to piss off Quadrack whether you be part of his gang or not. There had been enough examples why doing so was a bad idea.
It was the only reason Fallout was here, in fact, sitting in one of the watchtowers on the wall practically twiddling her digits with boredom as she considered how she'd been the 'lucky' one to get stuck on guard duty by Quadrack himself. A position that had for the past two decades been systematically declared as grunt duty without any real task to consistently distract oneself with. A consequence of their leaders reputation and the general undesirable location which had left attacks on the Demora district almost nonexistent.
Not that she was complaining about action, of course. She'd been one of the few Brotherhood members who'd been more than happy to avoid joining up when they'd decided to hit a Decepticon outpost and considering she was alive, well she was of the opinion a lack of excitement wasn't all that bad. Even if she was back to twiddling her thumbs and watching the horizon as she whimsically considered opening the gates to hear the might swoosh and clank that would wake up Reks in the guard post below. He wasn't even hiding his recharge cycle, idiot.
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Post by Baku on Aug 28, 2018 23:56:35 GMT
A small mech of around 5.5 feet clambered and swung its way around the district before transforming into a bipedal, reptilian form, dashing across the abandoned district and doing his best to avoid any corrosive puddles that had gathered after years of disrepair. Its coloration was a desert tan, its red optics shining dull in the dim lighting of the lower district. Almost screeching to a stop when the creature's form approached a large hole in the main street, looking down it and letting out a shrill whistle as he barred his teeth a bit.
"Odd, don't exactly remember running across this before... Guess someone tried raising the roof and ended up in the floor..."
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Post by Backbeat on Aug 29, 2018 1:46:15 GMT
BakuBackbeat turns the corner as he causally walks through the street. Stopping to notice lizard like creature currently engaged in witty banter. To those with common sense, the next action would be to walk in the other direction. Backbeat choose to casually walk over and join in. ' Ha... You'd think the Demora would learn not everything can be held by tape and prayer... ' He would pull a fair sized rock off the ground and approach the large hole. ' Well not to intrude or anything... But I just to happen to be going this way and would like to not have to waste time fighting people when I could be not doing that... ' Backbeat tosses the rock down the hole to listen for how deep it was. He'd then turn back to the lizard thing. Even with his face mask you could tell he was trying to seem friendly. He honestly didn't want to waste the resources shooting at people he didn't know, and also being a little bit lost also factored into it. '
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Post by Baku on Aug 29, 2018 23:15:03 GMT
The reptile shrugged as he looked up at Backbeat, tilting his head curiously. His snout was fairly uniform, shaped with teeth in mind for shredding and tearing metal when necessary. He seemed calm as he breathed regularly, even after that long run, simply readjusting his stance so he was not so close to the edge of the hole.
"No harm no foul, stranger. What brings you to this neck of the wastes?"
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Post by Backbeat on Aug 30, 2018 22:38:24 GMT
Backbeat thinks for a moment.
' Was suppose to meet a member of the Demora for a job. But the signage in this place is atrocious... '
Backbeat shakes his head. His hand glows for a second as he seems to pull a flashlight out of thin air.
' This right here is why tourism is not a thing... So my big plan is to find the first person who looks like they know where they are going and tag along. Not a good plan... But what the hell else can I do? '
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Post by Baku on Aug 31, 2018 0:24:25 GMT
Blinking his optics a little, the reptilian mode nodded in understanding as he sniffed the air.
"Hmm... Not a lot that I can gather from all of the corrosive pools and soot... Do you have something with a scent I could follow? Perhaps I can lead you to whoever you need to see..."
He offered as he looked Backbeat in the optics. "What's your name, traveler?"
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Post by Backbeat on Aug 31, 2018 18:15:50 GMT
Backbeat nods at the reptile. Moving his arms in a suitably dramatic fashion.
' I'm the world's most exciting mercenary... Backbeat! '
He holds a finger up as if to ask for a second, then starts searching thru the various storage compartments on his person till he produces what looks like a red key card.
' Took this off a guy last time I was here... Probably doesn't even work anymore... But should still have a scent... '
He tosses the key card to the lizard. Then realizes he's been internally calling him the "lizard" the entire time...
' You got a name there scales? '
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Post by Baku on Aug 31, 2018 20:59:33 GMT
The reptilian form catches it before examining the card curiously, bringing it closer to his snout before sniffing.
"Still a scent here... Minor, but viable. Not much CNA left on it to gather from, however..." He states before looking up towards Backbeat. "Kiyu... The name is Kiyu."
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Post by Backbeat on Sept 4, 2018 19:30:36 GMT
Backbeat nods.
' Good to know... Shall we? '
He motions to the large cave.
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Post by Baku on Sept 4, 2018 23:51:32 GMT
"Of course... This way." Kiyu nodded before trotting off toward the cave, the card still in hand as he stopped and sniffed the air every now and again to get back on track.
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Post by Corvid on Sept 6, 2018 1:13:17 GMT
Overhead, no one could hear the forces of the Decepticons were mobilizing. Even his keen sense of smell wouldn’t alert the wayward neutral, Kiyu, or his current company, Backbeat, to the oncoming slaughter. They were downwind. But perhaps the way the Demora Brotherhood had shut themselves in would have alerted them that something was amiss. Either way, one thing was certain. The Demora knew what was in store for them if their attempted theft had failed. They took the risk anyway, and in crossing the Decepticons had incurred the faction’s wrath. For their mistake, everyone on floor fifty-five would pay the price. A group of dropships landed on floor fifty-four, an equally barren floor from that which housed the brotherhood's hideout below. A few lingering individuals fled from their defunct housing as the dropships unveiled a group of fliers. In the assault to come, they would fly ahead and clear a landing zone for the dropships, which currently held the bulk of the team's task force for this assignment. Most were grounders that would secure the area directly in front of the brotherhood's scrapheap of a fortress, and block any exit through the tunnels between floors. As Decepticons geared up for their assignment, the single dropship with the initial response team leader's group flew further into the floor. They hovered a while, taking time to get their bearings: they were clearly looking for something. Soon they apparently spotted what they'd been looking for, because the dropship touched down, far from their main force. The shuttle opened to reveal the six members of this group. The leader of the Initial Response Team, in all the glory of his Decepticon colors: a royal purple, highlighted with equally gaudy gold highlights. Then there were two fliers from the response team, both with colors that matched his, with a softer silver replacing the gold highlights, and finally there was the odd assortment of three different looking individuals, none of which belonged to the response team. A triple changer, and two husky looking seekers. Osprey, the triple changer, could see something on the ground below them. Quickly he would have been able to ascertain that this is what had marked their landing, what the dropship had been looking for: a massive purple ring. From a second glance, it seemed like just another bit of graffiti on the run-down floor’s ruins. But in an almost comical, yet appropriate turn, he could see that quite literally, ‘x marks the spot.’ It wasn’t just an ‘x,’ however. It was a personal insignia. While one line from the ‘x’ ran straight, the other curved, forming a slight dimple where the two lines met. The marking was large enough that unless seen from above, it was almost unrecognizable. “Highwire’s never let us down before,” the team leader said. “ *Sigh* Down to business.” “Osprey, you and the seekers take that side-” he ordered, pointing to one far side of the giant ‘x,’ and we’ll three take this side.” Then, pointing at the other side. “We’ll drop down, take whatever forces lie immediately below us by surprise, and make a mad dash for their leader. Even if you’re a triple changer, don’t get any big, glory-hogging ideas. These are the Demora. We can take them, but they’re no pushovers.” “Plus, once we’re down there’s only two ways out,” one of his response team members added, “up from where we came, or the hard way.”A few moments later and Osprey took his position with the two femme seekers, while the team leader led his group of two team members at their position. Genorix “Waiting to breach,” one of the seekers spoke up. This was the first time Osprey had heard either of them speak up since he’d been paired with them.Both seekers were bulkier than the usual sort- taller, and more sturdily built than the team leader and the rest of the common fliers in his charge. They were clearly more specialized, too; if their uncommon frame types didn’t give it away, the long barreled weapons on their arms did. Both were painted jet black with faint grey highlights. If Osprey knew anything about the paint job, he might have been able to identify stealth paint. These weren’t their natural paint jobs. Whoever they were, he wouldn’t recognize them unless he was specifically familiar with them. Perhaps it was by design.“Don’t get sloppy, triple changer. Your kind have a reputation. Expect you to be covering our backs,” the seeker added as they waited for the signal to begin the operation.
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Post by Genorix on Sept 6, 2018 18:37:02 GMT
Osprey stood at the blast door of the dropship. He glanced down seeing the marking below them and acknowledged it's appearance. "Another one of those so called art" he thought. He looked over to the team leader as he gave out the orders. The tall mech gazed over to the location with his one good optic, while the other was gone: his old brother in arms caused the injury when they fought an all out battle after Osprey revealed his true colors to Genorix. A grim reminder. Now and forever. As the team leader addressed a few egoistical words towards him, he was tempted to change form and blast him into oblivion however he controlled himself and let it go.
Now in position, Osprey waited for further orders. He looked at one of the Seekers whom talked to him. Then... he found himself pushing the TechVolt into her face. "Do you think it's some game of contest? Do you think I'm new at military operations or even in the army?" he growled. "Think before you open your mouth while trying to humiliate someone. Focus on the task at hand... Be swift, precise and most importantly: efficient, effective and deadly!" The loadout was changed back to arm mode. He frown at her. "Unless you two have anything belittling to say, which I suggest to keep it to yourself if you two want to live... we shall wait for the green light."
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