[Iscarioto]

Tonight I’m going to make an entry in regards to the actual armor of the troops, I’ve got an image in my head so I’ll try get it out, might make it in character, like the survivors are trying to build a profile on the troops, their weapons etc

[Iscarioto]

Alex, that’s inspired! Love it!

Yeah, I’d like to think I’m not too picky about what can and can’t go, nobody has set a foot wrong at all in my mind.

If anything, I’d like to encourage people to use their own narrative to advance the story. If it’s something that doesn’t work then the next writer to post can rectify it. And I mean, as the stories so far have been looseish with the timeline, if say, someone posts the group steals a boat and sails over to Kowloon, someone who has written about life down in the subway tunnel can still post that out of sequence without too much canon issues

We are awesome

[Iscarioto]

That it is. But I have an idea in the works, as you and i discussed in our PM, competitions perhaps where people who read through, wether authors or not, can pick out a scene event or passage and illustrate it, not unlike a story book page, and if the author of the passage in question agrees it can be inserted into it to illustrate the story.

I’m struggling to explain it, too much writing tonight haha. Okay, brief example below:

David raised his head, his eyes full of fire
_________________________________________
|
| Eye picture woooooaaahhh!!!!!!! |
|
_________________________________________

Rage boiled inside him, a feeling he’d never met
A feeling he could never control
He reached out and touched the source

__________________________________________
|
| haha, it’s tomato sauce (ketchup?)
|
___________________________________________

and so on. Not saying a frame every second line or whatever, but if there is a key point, and if it reaches out to somebody and they think – wow, I want to try and make that – then awesome.

Then we have an illustrated story book.

By the way, the callibre of the writing here is incredible

And so in line with how I am picturing it all, like, nothing has made me go “ooh that’s wrong” most of it is “holy crap, that works so well!”

I’m giddy.

[Iscarioto]

Released Communication Transcripts of Corporal Richard T. Henare, 5th Fleet Battalion, Ascension Legionnaire, 2nd Class.

[Sections of this transcript have been redacted as per Transcendence Act 7, 2013, Section B. p32]

New Zealand Provincial Reconstruction Team
Bamyan Province, Afghanistan
February – March, 2008

From: LCPL Rick Henare [mailto:richard.henare@defence.govt.nz]
Sent: Wednesday, 27 February 2008 6:29 p.m.
To: Walter Henare
Subject: Hey Dad

Hey. How’s mum? I got the care package, thanks. Pineapple Lumps melted though, which is stink, because it’s negative 1 out. I mean, come on! Not your fault of course. Okay, So I have news, I’m leaving Bamyan. No, I’m not coming home, but I’ve been offered a promotion of sorts. One of those corporate contractor types, Stephens was his name, has gotten in touch to say he’s headhunted me. Nothing specific, just that I stood out. He’s offered me a role, just as an Ensign for now, in what he called the Ascension Project. Our CO doesn’t know much about it (is maybe a little skeptical, but I mean, it’s hard loosing team members) but believes it’s a weapons development project, UN sanctioned apparently. It could be a leg up. The pay is better, the opportunities. He said I could make Corporal in a year. No idea about deployment, but I may finally get off the field. A change of scene could do me good.

Anyway, hope you guys are well, say hey to Brent and Lexi for me.

Cheers,
Rick
________________________________________

From: Walter Henare [mailto:henarewalt@yahoo.com]
Sent: Thursday, 28 February 2008 5:49 a.m.
To: Rick Henare
Subject: Re: Hey Dad
Son, are you sure about this one? I mean, it sounds like some kind of cheesy action movie plot line. And think about your career! My dad, myself, your siblings, we’ve all served the NZDF for all our lives. What country is this even for? A little bit of clarity would be nice, you can’t just accept it without reading the fine print! I brought you up a little smarter than that boy.

From: Walter Henare
Sent: Thursday, 28 February 2008 7:15 a.m.
To: ‘Rick Henare’
Subject: Re: Hey Dad

Look, I know how excited you get about these things, but there is a bit to consider here. As your mum would like me to point out, you’re 28 next month, finish your tenure in Afghanistan and push the envelope upstairs, you wanted to get into intelligence, all your life you’ve talked about it, what changed? Money?

Look, I don’t wanna come down on you. I’m just concerned.

We all love you very much.

From: LCPL Rick Henare [mailto:richard.henare@defence.govt.nz]
Sent: Friday, 29 February 2008 11:24 a.m.
To: Walter Henare
Subject: Re: Re: Hey Dad

I know, I know, but this role seems to be more R&D.

Look, there was another raid on the Yankie camp last night, it’s just chaos here, no matter how much we rebuild, every relationship we repair, it just comes crumbling down. Our role here helps big time, I’m not doubting that. But I’m convinced the Ascension is going to help even more.

I’ve gotten more details, nothing I can talk about, which is exciting in itself. All I know is I’m moving to a facility somewhere near Minsk which I had to look up myself anyway. So not warmer climates, but we’ll see what comes of it. I’m really excited about this dad, I’d like for you guys to be too.

So I have another two weeks here before I have to say goodbye. I’m going to miss my squad, but they are all a little envious. Of what, well, we aren’t quite sure.

________________________________________________________________________________

Ascension African Research Division
Korhogo, Côte d’Ivoire
December, 2008

From: Rick [mailto: rickishere1138@gmail.com]
Sent: Saturday, 6 December 2008 04:03 a.m.
To: Walter Henare
Subject: Updates

Hey guys, how are you all? Give my love to the family. I’m at an undisclosed location doing some exciting work. I’ve spent a bit of time with the R&D department. Not sure how much I can tell you but we are doing some really interesting stuff with prosthesis and sensory augmentations, real cutting edge stuff which I think could actually make armed warfare a thing of the past. In saying that, I’ve volunteered to test them out on a field mission in the New Year. I’m pretty excited! Really revolutionary, I feel like I’m at the edge of this amazing new precipice. I’ve made friends with a scientist named Wolgast who is really ambitious and see’s so much potential for this in the medical world. Prosthetics are one thing, but some of the areas we are working on could really change the world. I mean, how do you get lung cancer if we just build you a new lung? Phenomenal.

I think I can talk about our Commander and Chief Reischek, who’s a big deal in the media as far as I’m aware. What a guy, his vision for Ascension is inspiring. I really feel like my work here is making a difference. I’m a soldier first and foremost, and I’m craving getting back out there and doing what I’m best at, but right now, Reischek and this entity I work for are making the real difference.

Not everything is so great now. So we are a multi-cultural bunch, but of course, typical aussies. My CO here is a man named Townsend, real meat head. And with the wrong ideals. I guess part of you was right in assuming the whole soldier-of-fortune merc thing. It’s uncommon, but there is always that one jerk-off that’s too trigger happy, that lives for the blood. One egg can’t spoil the whole dozen.

Anyway, I’d better run, as you know communication has been sporadic, but if I can’t skype you before it, have an incredible Christmas! I hear Penny is coming up for it? Have a great time!

All the best,
Rick.

________________________________________________________________________________

Message 11 of 15 sent to Henare through numerous channels.
July – September, 2009

From: Walter Henare [mailto:henarewalt@yahoo.com]
Sent: Thursday, 2 July 2009 0:12 a.m.
To: Rick Henare
Subject: Son

It’s been three months, for gods sake. We are worried. We haven’t had a call, an email, nothing. I don’t know how to contact you, DF gave no forwarding, you’ve given us nothing. You’ve said nothing since you were deployed to Somalia in April. Look, get in touch, your mother is very sick, and part of me places the blame on you. I’ve always maintained, family first, even before career, you know that.
Just let me know you’re okay.
________________________________________

Undeliverable:
Mail Delivery System [MAILER-DAEMON@mail75-18.dmzglobal.net]
To: Rick Henare
Sent: Thursday, 2 July 2009 0:12 a.m.
Delivery has failed to these recipients or distribution lists:
rickishere1138@gmail.com
An error occurred while trying to deliver this message to the recipient’s e-mail address. Microsoft Exchange will not try to redeliver this message for you. Please try resending this message, or provide the following diagnostic text to your system administrator.

The following organization rejected your message: [94.125.25.25].

Diagnostic information for administrators:

Generating server: mail75-18.dmzglobal.net

Rickishere1138@gmail.com
[94.125.25.25] #<[94.125.25.25] #5.0.0 smtp; 5.1.0 - Unknown address error 550-"5.1.1 The email account that you tried to reach does not exist. Please tryn5.1.1 double-checking the recipient's email address for typos orn5.1.1 unnecessary spaces. ________________________________________________________________________________

5th Fleet Battalion, Ascension Legionnaire African Research Division
Mogadishu, Somalia
October, 2011

From: ASC E.11506 [mailto:11506.ACSF5.8@ASCINT.MU]
Sent: Friday, 7 October 2011 9:10 p.m.
To: Walter Henare
Subject: I’m Sorry

Dad, Mum, I hope you guys are okay. I’m sorry, ever since we arrived here we have had to go dark, I’m on an opp I can’t talk about, but some heavy shit has gone down. I don’t know. I’m worried you might have been right. This isn’t what I thought it would be. I hope you guys are okay, just know that I’m alright. I’m going to be fine. I love you both so much, give my love to Brent and Lexi, I hope they are doing well too. I’ll try to keep in touch. This channel is limited, if you reply within 36 hours it will still be viable.

I love you

________________________________________

From: Walter Henare [mailto:henarewalt@yahoo.com]
Sent: Sunday, 9 October 2011 7:52 p.m.
To: ASC E.11506
Subject: Re: I’m Sorry

Your mother died two months ago.

Don’t come home.

________________________________________
________________________________________

Neural Link Recording, Aural Excerpt Partition 7.15G
Unit: Legionnaire CPL R. T. Henare ASC M.11506.EMK
5th Fleet Battalion, Ascension Legionnaire, 2nd Class.
Causeway Bay, Hong Kong
November 12 2013, 1:52pm

[Henare] Boss, we’ve taken the flank, they aren’t fighting back, where to?
[weapons discharge]
[Henare] Boss! Leave him, he’s dead, what’s our status?
[Townsend] He can die when I fucking tell him to! Keep firing!
[Henare] At what! Times Square has fallen, do we proceed to the MTR system?
[Henare] Boss?
[Malcolm] He’s spotted something.
[Townsend] Boy, there really is something about these jippo girls.
[Malcolm] Ah… That’s not only culturally innacu…
[Townsend] That alley, forward.
[Henare] We’re following? But we’ll compromi..
[Townsend] Fuck up! Take the alley.
[Henare] [muffled] what the fuck am I doing here.
[Malcolm] [muffled] He’s got his rape face on again.
[Henare] [muffled] This isn’t right. We’re sposed to contain the locals, not hunt them
[Malcolm] [muffled] He’s a Version Six, what the hell are we supposed to do.
[Henare] [muffled] This is getting out of hand.

2:34pm

[rustling noises]
[Unknown Female] Wo bu yong! Qing Bang Wo!
[screams]
[Townsend] Shut the fuck up you sl…
[Henare] [muffled] This isn’t fucking right.
[Malcolm] [muffled] Quiet, he’ll kill us both, he’s unhinged.
[more screams, seemedly muffled. A loud crack][Henare] He’s raping her, I didn’t sign up for this.
[Unknown Female] [Help me, please help!]
[a loud clatter, followed by the ignition of augmented melee blade]
[a thud, followed by gurgling]
[Henare] Go! Run!
[Malcolm] You.. You fucking killed him.
[Henare] We have to get out of here.
[Malcolm] No, no no they monitor this, they know what you’ve done.
[Henare] I’ve done what’s right.
[Malcolm] You’ve murdered your Superior Officer.
[Henare] Scott, you know me, you know this was right. I had to stop him.
[Malcolm] Rick, I.. I have to take you in.
[Henare] Think about it, The Ivory Coast, Somalia, Nome, Khandahar. Something is wrong with this, someth…
[a firearm loads]
[Henare] Scott.. Wait…
[sprinting footsteps, followed by weapon fire]

–End of Transmission–

[Iscarioto]

I hear ya Alex. Yeah the way I’m approaching this is just writing one up when I can (I work part time in a very cruisey call centre while at Uni too, and do all my HMing at work, living the dream haha), and just see which character I feel like writing at the time, and try and link the stories together. Not neccesarily chronological, the plot can sort of come out almost like those found footage movies where you only see what’s been recorded on the handy cam. It’s not a rule, but so far the others seem to be following suit.

On that note, prswirve and JR, love your work so far!

[Iscarioto]

Why not both?

[Iscarioto]

As for the question about weakness in the Legion, I think conventional bullets will do little damage, unless well placed, making your character a prime candidate for being efficient. There are ways I think, for instance, the weapons used by the Legion could well penetrate, but regular bullets bounce off.

A big part of this is, I like the idea of battles being thought with melee weapons, bit more dynamic. Gun-kata on the other hand, deff fits this dynamism! So yeah, swords and well placed bullets, and their own bullets, and brute strength.

Anyway, here is the link to the story thread

http://www.heromachine.com/forum/the-writers-room/ascension-a-community-development/

[Iscarioto]

Terrence Anders
The New Zealand Consulate, Wan Chai, Hong Kong.

11 Hours after the Invasion.

—

I fucking killed someone. With my mind. Hong Kong has been invaded by god know who, and now I’m sitting in a broken down subway train, below ground with a only fire to light this scraggy notebook (a fire in a subway car, okay..) I’m not alone, I mean, that’s rare enough in HK, but I usually find myself in the company of suits. They’re still here, along with the tourists, the street vendors and some guy I’m pretty sure is Triad. None of it makes much sense. I just need to get this down on paper, I don’t know how it’ll help, but I need to get this out. So where to start?

I used to feel at home in Hong Kong. There is a certain degree of familiarity woven into the anonymity of a bustling metropolis. Safety in numbers, or something like that. But all of that changed today. Well, the anonymous became known, at least. We all now have something in common. Fear.

I used to crave being here, brief stints over the years filled me with a hunger for this bite sized, accessible little Oriental morsel. It had the food, the exotic people, the bustle of metropolitanism, the smell, and felt all the more alive for it. But the Hong Kong I returned to was not the same. It didn’t have her.

Our travels here together have repaved these busy streets with memories, and everywhere I turn I am confronted with the realisation that I chose this over her. My work at the embassy, I told myself, would help to build our futures. But as I left, I knew I wouldn’t be back, I knew she shouldn’t be expected to wait. My career was so important that I avoided believing in the degree to which I’d miss her. I try to fill my days with paperwork and phone calls, my nights with hard liquor and cigarettes. None of these burdens dulls the pain, not when I lay there, late at night, on my stony mattress, in my shoe-box apartment, staring blankly at the ceiling (do they use asbestos here?) wondering what she’s up, where she’s been. New Zealand seems a life away. I love this place, but I hate that I love it. Am I homesick? I don’t want to leave, I just don’t want to be alone.

But yeah, so that’s not an option after today. Not really even relevant. Work is now irrelevant, where I live is now irrelevant. Missing, longing, pining, crying, it’s all really background noise to the big, bat-shit crazy event that has turned the world on it’s head. And yet even that doesn’t dull the pain. What. Is. Going. On?

Okay, so I’m trying to piece this together in my head. I don’t even know who I’m writing this to. Is it for you, dollface? I don’t really know. So I was out having my lunch with my friend Shada, from the Saudi Consulate. God, poor Shada. It was a regular Tuesday, she was having issues with her big-wig CEO husband, I was nodding politely, listening, but not really. Drinking problems, infidelity, the usual stuff. We were in our usual spot, out on the Expo Promenade, with the incredible view over Victoria Harbour. It was just a normal day. Suits drifting past, buses and taxis honking, panicked tourists sprinting after them, my cigarette heavy in my throat and going moist from the humidity. Regular. Unlike any other day. That’s how I’ll remember it. Separate from what came after.

I suppose the strangeness started a few days before really, with this vivid dream I had, one of those dreams that you’re not quite sure is actually a dream. A shadow of a dishevelled man inside my little apartment, with, what, a syringe? I remember a stinging sensation as he stood over me, not unlike a mosquito, but I absent-mindedly fell straight back into a deep deep sleep. I’ve been scratching at the little square shaped groove on my elbow ever since. Given the circumstances, I’m beginning to doubt that it was actually a dream. Anyway…

The rumbling came first, low at first, barely breaking above the constant drone of air conditioners, but it grew quickly, in seconds really, to overshadow everything else. Then followed the literal shadow. I don’t know what they were, giant triangles in the sky, blotting it all out. Ships, I guess, carriers. The noise was horrendous. Hong Kong moves quickly, but people were scrambling. It gets a bit blurry from here. I remember an explosion on the horizon. Some have said it was the airport, others say that the power cut out immediately after the bang. (God, how many people are trapped in elevators right now?) Then came the gunshots. Gun blasts? I’ve played a lot of video games, these weren’t your standard issue assault rifles. Similar speeds but, I don’t know, thuds. Thuds that got ever nearer.

As these ships got closer to the surface, Shada and I bolted inland to escape the torrent of water being forced up from the harbour. I think that was probably a mistake, now. People were everywhere. Again normal, but these people weren’t vertical. In the distance we saw a group of people. At the time though, you’d be forgiven for wondering if they actually people at all. We turned and ran in the opposite direction, because, I mean, what do you do? We were actually getting a bit of distance on them, when I tripped over a policeman. A dead policeman.

I recall yelling at Shada: “Don’t stop, keep running, run!” but she didn’t listen. In the end she was a better friend to me than I think I’d have been to her. Those many months, talking, offering advice, but being mentally elsewhere. As those glowing orange bullets (beams?) entered her chest, that’s what I thought about: why didn’t I care about her more? Why didn’t I go to a greater effort to support her? Why was I so caught up with my own shit that I couldn’t be a good friend? I am so selfish. Even as I watched my friend die, all I could selfishly think about was how selfish I was. I’d like to think what happened next came from a good place, out of sympathy and anguish for losing a friend, but I think, mostly, it came out of shame for myself.

Whatever came from their weapons glowed like hot embers, an evil orange which I was sure should have cauterized her wounds. They didn’t, and I felt the warmth of her blood splatter upon me. I spun to the side, we had been flanked. I don’t think I really caught it at the time, but my mind is clinging to the image of some kind of trooper, a white, nonchalant fellow with a dense beard and a greasy ponytail, like Steven Segal in one of his terribly acted atrocities from the late 90s. His torso was covered by incredibly intricate armour, but he had these arms, black and metallic, inhuman. CNN and TVB Pearl had been all over the stories of nano-augmentation, of military grade prosthetics, but to see it in the flesh (..or not) was an entirely different story. He was armed to the teeth, teeth which wore a grin. You prick. You fucking prick. I wanted him dead, I wanted him gone. I so I made that happen.

He rose into the air, the smile slipping from his face. My arm was in front of me, dripping at the elbow with Shada’s blood. I squeezed. He popped. End of story really. The next thing I remember I’m bolting down O’Brien Road, ages away, as the sky falls around me. Those ships were still over head, a layer on top of burning buildings and falling debris. I’m sure those soldiers were behind me, but I wasn’t looking back. Just panting, and wondering what I’d done.

Out of nowhere a heavily tattooed Hong Konger tackled me, dragging me towards the Wan Chai MTR entrance. He was yelling in Cantonese what I assumed to mean “We have to get out of here, what are you doing, you stupid guilou?” I at least caught the guilou part. And now here we are. Dwellers below the surface of Hong Kong. At last count there were thirteen of us, but it’s hard to be sure. More come every day, from further along the tunnels, I’m not sure. The entrances have been boarded up but to be safe we all left the terminal itself this morning to hide in the subway cars, the assumption being if these things turn on, ours should start moving. Better than getting hit on the tracks I suppose.

So, my apparent super powers. Did it actually happen? I don’t really know. I’ve tried to replicate it, move around some tins, you know, generally what you test it on. I mean, I don’t want to try and explode a person again. So is it triggered by rage? Yeah.

One reason I don’t doubt it is, well, the Triad member, the one who tackled me. I’ve been watching him, (from a good safe distance) every time he lights a cigarette he lets the fire travel up and down his arm, like some sort of pet (Show off). So this super powers bit might be a thing. I guess I’m willing this, but he keeps scratching his elbow too. I mean, his arm is on fire once every couple of minutes, (chain smoking) so there is that, but I wonder if he has a mark too? I should really approach him, if only to thank him for saving my life. But those tattoos. I’m so prejudiced. You can take the boy out of the privileged West, but you can’t take the privileged West out of the boy, I guess. In any case, it was he who lighted the fire. Toxins, suffocation and immolation aside, we needed the light. My mobile needed charging before this happened, and nobody has been able to get reception since then either. The consensus is they have cut communications. Ugh, so much to think about. Who exactly are they? They were white, at least the one I saw (killed). There were no flags, nothing to identify them. One of the ‘survivors’ (I guess that’s what you’d call us) pinched a set of armour, the only thing that resembles an insignia is this strange stylised triangle, almost like the letter A. So hey, we have some armour, but not a clue who we’d be using it against.

And despite all this, I just miss you. I’m laying here, trying to remember and articulate everything, but I keep staring up at the roof of the subway car, wishing you were here. What a horrible thing to wish for, given the circumstances.

Okay, so apparently we’re moving in twenty minutes (your typical corporate PR guy keeps harping on about flooding if they bomb the subway, which makes sense, I just kind of wish someone else was harping on about it. I’ve got a lot of American friends, but this guy’s accent, ouch), so I better wrap this up. I don’t know what will happen here, but baby, if this is for you, I guess it is, I love you and miss you, if this reaches you back down there in New Zealand, I hope that it is under clearer skies.

[Iscarioto]

Yeah adds dimensions huh? Better get off my back side and start writing this then!

My mistake, should have known it came from HK Cinema! Very cool, whichever the origin. End of the day, doesn’t necessarily need to be named, he develops extraordinary reaction speeds and precision, which allows him to greatly expand upon his passions for martial arts and slow-mo back flip dives while firing two handguns, as two doves flutter past dramatically.

[Iscarioto]

Alex, I reckon that’s awesome, can we say he’s perhaps a financial backer of the project itself? I like the whole wild card idea, and his power is fantastic.

prswirve, first off, equalibrium? Haha! That’s fine so long as it’s not called gun-kata, because, you know, copyright. As for the drugs, I think a mix of that would be great, hadn’t considered it, but that would make things interesting a month down the track when powers start fading and they need to seek more. And the prospect of overdosing… Very interesting!

[Iscarioto]

That’s perfect Harli! Great so we know what Xiao Tou looks like in the beginning and have a fantastic costume for him when we get to that part of the story.

prswirve, that HKPF officer is awesome, I feel like we could re-appropriate the Chief character Lam Shuk-Yee to be a female perhaps? Good to have some gender equality! Will try come up with a name. I love the hat, quite accurate to the real thing. One suggestion perhaps is adding a radio with the speaker on the straps, I dunno, for some reason that’s what I think of when I think of the HKPF from experiences over there, prominent radios. Haha.

Okay, So I’m going to finally finish and upload my first portion of story tonight in a new thread named Ascension in the RP forum. Will link it from here. My portion is going to be written in the first person, as it kind of makes it realistic when it comes to gaps in the knowledge of characters as this story sort of develops in real time. You can make assumptions and take risks and make big calls and they can be easily re-conned. So don’t have to follow suit, but yeah

[Iscarioto]

Just before I post a story thread, shall we initially have it like serial threads, so JR say, you might post an origins story for your character and once we have a few origin stories together we can work together to link them into a comic line from there? So set pieces, and either just a write up for a character, or an actual piece of fiction, with a note to the time period (10 years before, 2 days after invasion etc etc)?

[Iscarioto]

Love the second phase!

And love the costume for Xiao Tou, I think though I would also like to see a design for him non-costumed, I feel like costumes should come along part way though in the story, but at first he’s an actual street kid, with scraggly clothing, a rebelious haircut, a niggling attachment to crystal meth, that sort of stuff

[Iscarioto]

That’s incredible Vampy, I did picture him sleeker but in seeing this it makes sense, lower tech etc. Would I be right to assume he has no lower jaw, like, at all, because cool.

Time for me to start working on something.

And yeah, I think you’re right with the threads thing

[Iscarioto]

I dare say that’s your best work Harle, that jacket just pops, I think I want to buy one haha!

[Author]

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