James Kurios walks in, and looks about, confused. Moving to the bar, he takes one final glance before taking his seat. As he sits down, the barkeep comes over, asking "Your new here, arnt you?"
"How could you tell?" asks James.
"Between the confused look and the fact that your face has never been seen in these parts, id say its quite obvious. Even your accent isn't from around here. Phili station i'd guess."
"Your slightly off, I'm from Erie, but close enough. I'm new to the force, and its been a rough first day."
"That my friend is normal, you want a drink?"
"Dunno, its been a rough day. but at least the ejector works fine. only needed a little tinkering before I considered it satisfactory."
"Well, how bout a Erie Wastewater? Its a hard coffee for a day like this" Asked the barkeep, bringing him the drink.
"Sounds good. I just hope the next bird isn't gonna be too much trouble to get ejector worthy." With that, James downed the drink.
Matt Myers walks into Sunbucks and is drawn to the piece of paper with the Matt Myers "facts" on them like a bee to flowers. He picks up the by-now crumpled and coffee-stained piece of paper and reads it, chuckling to himself. Then he says, loud enough to make every heart of every LPI flatfoot skip a beat, "AH APPREWVE."
He then looks at everyone in turn and says, "Who wrote this? DEMOTION!"
At that, everyone clamors, claiming responsibility for at least one 'fact'. And thus the largest mass-demotion in LPI history occurs.
Jim poked his head around the corner, noticed the mass mayhem in Sunbucks, and made a beeline for the Chief's office. Pulling out his Tazer, he advanced on the filing cabinet room, weapon ahead of him. As he eased the door open, he spotted movement in the corner. With an earsplitting roar, he fired, taking the would-be burglar to the ground in a crumpled heap. Jim reloaded, and flicked on the light, ready to fire again if needed.
It was Fred. From the crumbs on the floor, it looked like he'd been raiding the snack drawer, just as Jim had been planning on doing. Muttering a halfhearted "sorry", Jim descended on the drawer like a horde of locusts on ripe fields of grain.
Zealot Wrote:Just go play the game and have fun dammit.
Treewyrm Wrote:all in all the conclusion is that disco doesn't need antagonist factions, it doesn't need phantoms, it doesn't need nomads, it doesn't need coalition and it doesn't need many other things, no AIs, the game is hijacked by morons to confuse the game with their dickwaving generic competition games mixed up with troll-of-the-day.
"DECK HAND!" he shouts, materializing a mop and bucket full of sloshing water and suds from thin air, pushing them both into his hands. "Get to cleanin'!"
Rodrick O'Rielly walks into Sunbucks, sits down at the bar, and orders a regular coffee. They deliver it, and he takes a sip. The liquid imediently leaves his mouth, and the other Officers started laughing.
"What the crap was that?!" yells Rodrick.
"Dirty engine oil, some stuff from the bathroom, and something we found in the back of Cesar's Patriot." says some random officer between laughs. Rodrick turns arround and runs out of the Sunbucks, to wash his mouth out in the bathroom.
NEVER Go on patroll without a cargo of donuts...Trust me you'll regret it.
Frank Lamar walks cautiously into Sunbucks, looking around the shoppe nervously.. At a short height of 5'3, and a light weight of 105, he feels like he's walking in a room of Giants.. He hardly looks older than fifteen, but he is dressed in an LPI officers uniform.. He walks over to the counter, and drools at the wide selection of donuts.. and nearly jumps out of his skin when a man walks to the counter.. "Now who are you, kid?"
Mouth agape, he snaps back "H-Hey! I'm not a kid! Check the uniform!" and points his thumb at his chest. The man laughs "Hah, nothing more than a new recruit! But that's alright, we've all been recruits before!" and walks away.. Frank takes the time to call out for the delicious pastries he wants to buy and eat, and as well as an order of coffee and vanilla.. He sets himself in a corner and chows on the pastries.. taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of Sunbucks.
Seymore Justice, beaten and roughshod from a fierce and not so glorius battle with the Keepers, in the heart of New York itself, stumbles haphazardly through the doors of Sunbucks Cafe. He pushes himself with what little strength he has left to the counter to grab himself a donut and a cup of coffee.
The young lady looks at him strangely, "Let me guess. Hot choclolate?"
Seymore glares at her. "Coffee. Black and bitter."
"Must have been a rough night, huh?" she offered.
Seymore ignored her and after grabbing the coffee he turned to take his seat. At that moment, his eyes happened upon a new recruit of small stature, sitting in a corner with a goofy grin on his face. His eyes narrowed. "Saronsen?" he cried out. "Lord have mercy, we've been invaded by Lane Hackers!" Seymore grabs his tazer and fixes the setting to incinerate. He leaps over tables and chairs, bloodlust in his eyes, with no other intention than to kill the intruder.
"I'm not Saronsen," the recruit stammers. He ducks behind a table, donuts flying everywhere. "My name is Frank. Frank Lamar."
Officers from all over the room rush in on Seymore, some of them grabbing the hand holding the tazer, others latching onto a leg, while still more rush to place themselves between the recruit and the enraged officer.
"Noooooo!" Seymore bellows. "What are you doing? Get HIM, not me."
Seymore struggled violently against the grasp of several officers. He lunged forward within inches of Frank Lamar's frightened face. Suddenly, he lurched upright in sudden pain. Someone had tazered him. One of the officers. But why? He struggled even more. Another bolt of pain siezed him. Two. Three. Finally, weakened beyond belief, Seymore stops struggling against the officers and starts a new struggle for consciousness.
"This is not Saronsen, you idiot," one of the officers proclaims. "He's a new recruit. His name is Frank. Frank Lamar. He just looks like Saronsen."
"Not Saronsen." Seymore looks a little closer. His vision goes in and out of focus. "But, I could've sworn..."
"It's okay, I get that a lot." Frank Lamar moves a little closer. "I guess I bear a little resemblance to that no good, low-life Lane Hacker." He reaches out in a conciliatory gesture to shake hands.
Seymore, more than a little embarrassed, and more than a little in pain, slowly offers his hand in turn. As their hands connect, Frank pulls Seymore close and whispers something in his ear.
Screaming in rage, Seymore makes for one final desparate attempt to extinguish the life of the new recruit. Tazers flare up on multiple spots on his body and the last thing Seymore observes, before consciousness fades, is an evil little smirk on the face of Frank Lamar.
![[Image: 00k.png]](http://img44.imageshack.us/img44/3806/00k.png)
![[Image: u8rHEaq.png]](http://i.imgur.com/u8rHEaq.png)
![[Image: roderickorielly.jpg]](http://i489.photobucket.com/albums/rr251/n8phu/roderickorielly.jpg)
![[Image: rSYoqYY.png]](https://i.imgur.com/rSYoqYY.png)
![[Image: wdpLhCb.png]](https://i.imgur.com/wdpLhCb.png)