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Incandescent Boulevard

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Metropolis is the energy capital of the United Federation. It is the home of corporate giant HEXAeco - who provide safe, clean, fusion power to the city, and a large part of the country, by harnessing the hydrogen in water.

With such a low cost energy source, its no wonder the company now owns half of the city - and more than half of the Entertainment's on Incandescent Boulevard - the main street in the city's gambling and gaming district - filled with musical theatres, casinos, hotels, casinos, video game arcades, casinos, strip clubs and more casinos.

Night has fallen. Its summer and the air is still warm. The streets are busy, but not buzzing. On a Sunday eve many of the city's responsible residents are at home in their skyscraper apartments, getting ready to go to their flat-pack beds, so they can be up early tomorrow to drive their hover car to their skyscraper HEXAeco office job.

But not all the residents are responsible, and not all of them have regular jobs...

[[Open adventure RP. Feel free to join.]]

She had been waiting, watching. It had been so long since She had been on this plane.  Her long crimson locks blew in the hot breeze whipping up from the streets and boulevards far below her. She rested her head on her upraised right knee as she looked down, her eyes adjusting to the vast distance. She took a deep, cleansing breath, releasing it with a laugh. It was good to be back. It got her blood pumping, her juices flowing. It woke her hunger for carnage.

"Ahhh... Carnage." she says to herself with a happy little giggle of titillation. "Such a wonderful word, Carnage. I think that should be the word of the day."

The black, formfitting leather she wears creaks was she adjusts her posture, realigning her back with a pop before resting her arms and head back on her knee.

"Wouldn't you agree my pets?" She queries to the empty air, before several diaphanous, black and shapeless forms fade into existence on the roof on either side of her. She smiled, revealing fangs. Long, sharp, deadly.

"Go." She commanded, tossing an errand gesture with her hand down towards the throngs of people on the sidewalks below. "Bring Mumsy something good to eat, darlings.  Spread a little carnage for her, won't you kindly?"

The shadows swirl and slither down the facade of the skyscraper towards the street.  She smiles as the sounds of fright and fear drift up to her on the wind.  Nothing spread fear and pain like a few ravenous shadow summons.

“Ahh... Carnage. I do so love the smell of it in the evening. It does a body good.”

Of all the peculiar species walking down the Boulevard, none are more of an odd couple, or turn more heads, than Lenny and MACCA.

Lenny is around seven foot tall hulking grey and red mass of muscle and fangs. The Black Arms soldier has recently had a digital voice box surgically implanted in his throat, enabling him to make humanoid sounds, and communicate with the other inhabitants of Earth - but having lived his whole life as a soldier drone - he still struggles with independant thought. To put it bluntly, he's not the brightest spark in the box.

His partner in crime is even less human - the Military Artificial Cerebral Combat Application is an intelligent computer programme, that currently inhabits a floating television screen, and projects an image of a bald floating head, green and translucent, the mimics the movements a person makes when talking. Its a little annoying that the lip-sync is always slightly out.

Both, however, are at first unaware of any interruptions.

"...prestigious monk, but I-" MACCA is cut off by a yell of terror. His expression does not change as his hover jets spin him round to face the source of the noise. "What's going on?" He ponders.

"Donno" Lenny replies bluntly. Neither of them notice the shadows encrouching under the powerful streetlights.

Of course with the two of them being artificial creatures the shadows are less than interested in them. The milling darkness peels away from the building facade, momentarily gaining a humanoid shape before melting into a puddle of inky darkness that, for lack of a better term, swims under Lenny and MACCA, almost using their shadows as a child would use stones across a creek to get to the other side. The shadows continue to leapfrog from pool of darkness to pool of darkness until they encounter something living. In this case the "something" living happens to be a poor tired waitress from a street corner deli 3 blocks away. She turns and tries to run from the milling blackness, but it catches her pulling her down into the inky darkness of itself, only to spit her back out a mindless oozing zombie made of shadows.

Sensing something is up, MACCA and Lenny rushed after the shadowy figures. Lenny's massive powerful strides match the speed of Macca's propulsion. They catch sight of the affected waitress.

"Is she OK? She doesn't look right."

Lenny walks up to the shadow-zombie and, with all the medical finess of a bowling ball, pokes her on the shoulder. MACCA would have rolled his eyes except he hasn't programmed his avatar to do that. Nonetheless they wait to see if she responds.


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