Sonic: Taku

(OOC[to Moni7or]: Before we start, you remember that time on the old Taku when Thunder fried Mike's sword? The one his dad gave to him or something? I think we were fighting Wesker or something. Anyway, what's the deal with the sword - is it repaired, in the garbage, is Mike still carrying it around?)

Two figures silently walked down the streets of Memorial city, side-by-side. The first was a dog, the anthromorphic kind, trotting along with hardly a care. Down to its red collar and its decidedly four-legged stance, the dog - a black poodle, to be precise - was fairly unremarkable on the outside. His parter had his face obscured for the moment by a hood, part of a poorly constructed cloak made of sackcloth. This second figure, obviously a man by his proportions, stopped and looked down at a piece of paper. The black dog stopped and trotted around to the first figure's front.

  "So this is the place." He was referring to an abandoned shack that they were stopped in front of.

  "Yeah. Scan for-"

  "Alright, alright, I know. Use my powers to scan for enemy presences. Thing is, I can't."

  "What do you mean you can't, Thunder?"

  "See, my electrical sonar detects machinery and animals by detecting minute variations in the amount of electricity in the air, caused by muscle movement, magnetism induced by the electrons running through circuit boards, and ambient static electricity."

  "And?"

  "AND there's too much technology in this city for me to use my ability. Imagine trying to identify an ant by the sound of its footsteps while an army is marching past on the other side."

  "Alright, alright." The figure lifted its hood to reveal red spikes of gelled hair that were gelled almost straight back. He rolled his neck back until it cracked, moving his head back and forth until the longest one rubbed across his back.

  "Ahhhh, that was starting to itch," Icarus said with a touch of delight. He rolled his shoulders.

  "Think he'll recognize me with this new haircut?" Ic asked Thunder.

  "Depends. The real question is whether he'll recognize me."

  "No doubt. You haven't changed a bit since the three of us were last together."

  "Ah, the good ol' family reunion."

  "Time to break out the stuffin'." Ic kicked down the door between him and Mike.

  "Awe, and it ain't even turkey day yet. I got a diet to keep, y'know."

  "Whatever. Let's just go already." The two walked cautiously inside the building.

((I don't really have a story for what happened regarding the sword. I'll figure one out and include it in part of Mike's dialogue in this role-play. But before that, how about we both write up our character bios? I just now realized neither of us have done so yet.))

While the two previously mentioned talked about the issue they had encountered during their walk, a well-known wolf sat on the floor of an abandoned shack. He had not had such serenity since he had been a child long ago. However, this disconforted him; he'd always preferred danger to calm. His ears always rang, the sound of alarms permanently drilled through his ear drums.

Michael Power heard footsteps and looked towards the door. He knew as well as his precursers that you can always tell the differences in the sounds of footsteps; you can realize someone you know is approaching just by the sounds of their shoes hitting the ground. He stood and ran into a room close by and broke the glass barrier between him and his sword which had been passed down through his family. He had never been one for traditions, he viewed them the same as he viewed religion: to seperate people from others, to make the followers seem better than normals. But at any rate he ran back to the door and held his sword in a defensive stance.

When the door broke down he took a quick look at his intruders and dropped his sword. He ran to them and embraced them, then spoke the first words he had muttered in the last 8 months. "Thunder! Who's your friend?" He was surprised at the deepness of his own voice; he had not heard it's change in months and did not predict that it would sound deeper than most 21 year olds despite his age being only 16.

(OOC: Good idea. I had wanted to do that for a while anyway, so this seems like a good chance to do so.)

  "Dude, it's me! Ic!" He flashed a toothy grin at Mike. "I grew out my hair long like this - you like it?" He wrapped Mike in a strong embrace. "It's good to see you again - so what's been happening?"

((Sorry, Chif. I've been having so much trouble getting a good message that I'm afraid I think you've trapped me in a corner. I don't know why I'm having trouble writing a message, but I am, so I guess I won't be able to post a reply in this role-play.

On the bright side, I'm going to be adding a battle section soon, and I'm sure I can keep it going there.)