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| Hell's Storage Room; I.E Ludwig's Basement | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Oct 9 2009, 02:29 PM (272 Views) | |
| Tanjuu Shageki | Oct 9 2009, 02:29 PM Post #1 |
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It was late, and to a man such as Tanjuu Shageki, that's somewhere between 3 and 6am. Still having been unable to get his first proper night's sleep, the former mobster was wandering the base without cease. He'd wandered out of his dorm with little more than a singlet, blue and white striped boxers, black socks and of course, his trilby hat. Slinking around the corner of the hall, Tanjuu willed himself seemingly weightless and tip-toed across to a door he hadn't noticed on the way in. Staring at the small sign on the door, he could not make out the writing, appearing as a somewhat forgein language through his eyes. (Though, this may in fact be due to a lack of sleep slightly blurring his vision.) Not caring so much as to what was on the other side, he fiddled with the doorknob and let himself in. |
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| Ludwig Fuster | Oct 10 2009, 09:21 AM Post #2 |
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BLUmedic
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Entering the basement meant that the unfortunate individual strolling this far already found himself upon the top of a concrete staircase descending some 10 steps down before being swallowed by darkness. However, this scenario occurred just when nobody was present in the basement. Currently now the steps still did descend sharply and the staircase led to the bowels of the cold and unwelcoming basement, but also a yellowed light shone faintly from far below. The air smelled of disinfection and obsessive cleanness and carried upon itself the sound of a chalk squeaking mercilessly upon a chalkboard. Somebody was writing. The squeaking getting more frantic as a thought was quickly written out… …the chalk snapped. Angry fist hit the surface of the board and the owner of it hissed in frustration: “Fesssss…” |
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| Tanjuu Shageki | Oct 16 2009, 08:59 AM Post #3 |
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Slowly decending the stairs, Tanjuu's nose was assaulted by the stench of chemicals. Shaken slightly, he turned his gaze to the man at the chalkboard. It seemed this was a member of BLU that the ex-mobster had not met yet, having missed this individual during his unpacking. Walking closer to the light and the man, Tanjuu raised a cautious hand and choked on the strengthened chemical scent. |
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| Ludwig Fuster | Oct 18 2009, 10:36 AM Post #4 |
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BLUmedic
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Ludwig turned sharply at the sound of another person in the basement – somebody daring to interrupt him here. His dark blue eyes stabbed the individual with such force, that if looks could transfer into a motion, poor Tanjuu would end up splat against the wall. Ah, was it one of those new people for the BLUteam? He got a couple of files – flicked through them. A new sniper and a new spy. Mein Gott… wasn’t the other just appalling in what he wore right now. No sense of decency, respect to other people around and no manners. No matter that it was 4 in the morning... the BLUmedic probably SLEPT in his uniform. Well, he didn’t – he had just not gone to bed yet. He did not feel tired – aggravated was more the right word and the blackboard reflected that clearly. Latin and German words shone ghostly white and some numbers and percentages glared at anybody unfortunate enough not to understand them – medical terms, psychological and personality disorders and possible ’soultions’ to the lot of them. One less ethical than the other. The last word before the chalk snapped was die Pyromanie. There was yet no number to it and no solution – but the medic still held the chalk. He straightened up – the heels of his boots clicking loudly on the concrete floor. Feeling offended by the other’s height and needing to compensate with at least a menacing stance, he spoke lowly: “Guten Morgen. Can I help zou?” After all, he was still the medic and if one of his teammates needed help, he was always available. But dare they waste his time – they will regret it~! Edited by Ludwig Fuster, Oct 18 2009, 10:38 AM.
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| Tanjuu Shageki | Oct 22 2009, 09:18 AM Post #5 |
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The what felt like the longest time, words escaped Tanjuu. At any other time of day, he might have screamed and leapt into an attack. And why not? This uniformed gentleman spoke in German, had the cirmcumstantional evidence to be a scientist and his manners seemed to scream 'I'm superior to you, screw with what I'm doing and die horribly.' In his sleep-deprived mind, the man was a Nazi. How the hell a Nazi had managed to be situated under the establishment was something Tanjuu was questioning himself with. However, he would at least try to appear calm and when the Nazi's back was turned, club him on the back of the head. "Uh... I guess so... Who're you?" |
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| Ludwig Fuster | Oct 26 2009, 06:03 AM Post #6 |
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BLUmedic
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Who was he? Wasn’t it obvious by his attire? He replied calmly: “I am ze BLUmedic. Ludwig Fuster. Do zou have a health problem zou’re seeking me out vith? Perhaps… insomnia?” Turning the square chalk between his fingers, he kept on looking to the other as if he could see right through his bones. His other hand went into his pocket and the item in it – just in case. What if the other was not on his team…or even if he was, perhaps he still meant harm. “Und zou’re…” He took a wild guess. 50/50 chance. “…Our nev Spy. Am I right? Vhat do zou call zourself?” |
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| Tanjuu Shageki | Oct 31 2009, 09:27 AM Post #7 |
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"I... am Tanjuu Shageki, Mr Füster." Tanjuu replied, bowing low. "Formerly known as the infamous Pistolero, perhaps you heard of me? That's it, play the chivelry card for now. This bastard's done his research, I only hope the BLUmedic who's life this 'Ludwig Füster' ended didn't suffer for too long. |
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| Ludwig Fuster | Oct 31 2009, 10:51 AM Post #8 |
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BLUmedic
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"Nein, haven't heard of zou." Did he have time to 'hear' about such individuals? No. And nobody ever heard about Ludwig - at least he hoped. It was safer for him like that. Although they gave him the nickname 'nailyanker' in minor newspapers and police records. He used to end the pesky little lives of hippies and homeless people after luring them into dark forests. His trademark sign was that he ripped the nails off of his still living subjects. Why? Purely as a punishment for not cooperating during his psychological research. Then he grew annoyed and disgusted with them and they just had to go. Scrifices had to be done here and there. And in the end, those individuals did not profit the society in any way possible. Nobody would miss them. But they were interesting enough for his research (also easy targets). --- "Sho...hov can I help zou?" He set the chalk down with a loud click. He was getting impatient. The other barges in on him withouth a seemingly justifiable cause and carries on bugging him with his existence - Ludwig had things to think about and jot down on his blackboard! Edited by Ludwig Fuster, Oct 31 2009, 11:09 AM.
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