A Cold Morning in Omni Entertainment...

((Ok, I've tried some RP in the past and it never really got anywhere, but this time I'm gonna do my best and hope that I can make something out of it. I'm writing an intro for my fixer and then I'll go from there.))

I climbed up the ramp to one of the many buildings in Omni Entertainment. As I approached the entrance, a soft buzzing sound was triggered, which was immediatly complimented by a woman's voice.

Please scan for proper security level clearance.

I held out the palm of my left hand, which had a barcode grafted into it. This code changes each time I gain a new level of clearance, which can be obtained by completing a few special assignments that are recieved directly from the Omni-Armed Forces. These tasks usually involve the infiltration of a Clan base or the retaking of one of our own, the repair of a special device and every so often, the assassination of someone who poses a threat.

I pressed my hand against the palm reader, shortly after signalling a successful scan.

You are now cleared for entrance. Enjoy your stay at one of Omni-Tek's finest establishments, Rompa Bar.

The doors slid open and I slipped inside, shaking off the cold. The hallways were dimly lit and covered in Omni-Tek symbols. I followed the shadows through the restaraunt to the back where my favorite bartender made my favorite drink. I took a seat at the very end of the bar counter, closest to the exit. Who knows, maybe this place'll get packed and I'll have to leave in a hurry.

I'll have my usual Vintage Whiskey mix, Jack, and make it quick; I'm in dire need.

Comin' right up, hard day?

Yea, something like that...

He slid a tall glass across the bar counter, stopping where I had been holding my right hand. I took a sip and instantly felt relieved. The perfect Whiskey sour.

The Armed forces had and continue to train me to do many things. They taught me how to completely remove the fear of death from battle. When I first arrived on this planet, I had no idea what a reclaim terminal was and that I would have to pay for special insurance to make sure I could 'come back to life' after being fataly wounded. They trained me how to be quick and precise, how to hold my submachine gun just right, to recieve the least amount of recoil and most of all, they taught me how to hate my enemy.

What they haven't taught me, is how to deal with the everyday stress, knowing that even though you just took out thirty or even forty members of the opposing force, the same thirty or forty of them would just come right back for more. In the back of my mind, I know someday that I may even be a target for one of their leaders, and even further in the back of my most inner thoughts, I know there is a way to inflict permanent death. We are, of course, still mortal.

You know Jack, sometimes, in the midst of battle, while shells are hitting the ground and bullets are ripping through flesh, I forget who I really am. I feel like an unstoppable machine on a war path to victory and not a single person but myself matters.

I've heard that many times, and everytime I do I tell people to ask themselves one question when this happens.

...and what's that?

"Who am I? Really?" I wouldn't know from experience, but I've heard that it helps...you should try it out.

Thanks, I'll have to..

Our conversation was interrupted by the beeping coming from my wrist communicator.

This is 006793, what is it this time?

For safety. For the glory of your employer, a mission: For 48 hours, Lakita Godfray is staying in an Omni-Tek outpost in Lush Fields. Hurry, go terminate him - he is a very important executive in the enemy hierarchy. Take care now.

The connection was terminated abruptly. I had my orders.

Another assassination?

That's what it said, here we go again...

So?

Yea?

Who are you?

I slammed the empty glass down onto the counter, focused my vision and exlaimed:

I am Captain Vincent Morgan!

((btw, anyone interested may involve themselves in my story any way that they please. I'll be adding more to this soon.))

((Interesting story! Looking forward to more! :D ))

((Good stuff here :D The best way to write in my opinion is to write about actual events in-game. It just makes it all more real that way i think. So my advice, get involved in the game's RP community a bit. If you have something particualr you want to write about, make it happen IN GAME. But thats just me hehe. I like this style of writing very much and Im typing way too much just to compliment you on your story so yea Im gonna stop.......now :D))

((Well technically it did happen ingame. Usually when I write for something in AO, like this, I goto the setting and write about the area i.e. I went to Rompa Bar with Zin and actually walked up to the bar like I was ordering a drink.))

((another tidbit of story development))

The last few rounds from the burst of my submachine gun tumulted the remaining Clan Agent against the wall, followed by a nice red splatter and a trail his body left as it slid down to the floor. The smoke cleared and in the dead man's hand sat my objective, a sealed order, to be given to one of Omni-Tek's many Bureaucrats.

Another one down...gotta be what? Ninety three missions completed to date?

My conversation with myself was interrupted by the beeping of my Comm.

Is this Captain Vincent Morgan?

Affirmative, the one and only.

Meet me at Rompa Bar

Wait, who are you?

The signal went dead. I zipped into the Grid and off to Omni-Entertainment excitedly anticipating whoever this mysterious female was and the drink she'd be buying me for dragging me away from my missions.

It was another cold day in Omni-1, isn't it always? I walked by the once populated, now deserted Arena as a flock of mechanical bird-like creatures fluttered by my head. Cargo ships buzzed from above, back and forth, attending to their daily routines. My daily routine? Kill a few Clanners, kill a few braincells...

I made my way inside Rompa Bar, to my favorite bar stool. The room was unsurprisingly dead. From the shadows in the very back of the bar came a dark figure, which came into view very slowly. An Opifex woman with black hair, stripped with blue streaks. She wore a long trenchcoat and a pair of shades, even though it was pretty dark in the bar to begin with, it didn't seem to bother her.

She slid up beside me, holding a card in her left hand, which she slid across the table, up to where I had been resting my hands, and ordered two shots of Hit-the-floor-Jack.The card read, in big black bold lettering, "FoxHound", that was it, apart from a name, Simca Shimuka.

It's nice to meet a living legend such as yourself!

Legend? All the legends I know are either long gone dead or behind bars. What's your purpose for dragging me out here?

I've been tracking you for a while now. You're good, sometimes too good. I want you to join my team and I. Together we can be much more powerful.

You know, that's against Omni-Tek regulations. What gives you the right to track me?

Nevermind that, just know that I am offering you the chance of a life time, an offer you cannot refuse. You'll rise to the top, your name will stretch long and wide across the planet of Rubika, maybe even further.

...and if I don't join you and your band of maniacs?

I don't think you really want to know the answer to that, now do you Captain Morgan? Join us!

She picked up her shot glass and held it out, as if toasting a new friendship.

Give me time, I need time. I'm not giving you a 'yes' or a 'no'. I just need time. You'll have my allegiance.

I picked up the other shot glass, held it in the air and we clanged them together.

To a beautiful friendship!

I gulped the liquor down, tensed up my muscles and closed my eyes. As I slowly let the air back into my lungs, I slammed the shot glass down onto the counter, opened my eyes and there was no one there. Nothing but another empty shot glass and the card. The bartender, Jack, slapped me against the back.

Don't worry mate, she was a cheap date anyway.