Un soldat a forcé le rabat de la tente hors du chemin et est entré. En l'attendant de l'autre côté, Kyle était assis devant un bureau. Il examinait des tas de notes manuscrites. Il a jeté un coup d'œil à l'interlope avec un sourire. "Hé Jack. Que puis-je faire pour vous?" Il a chié.
"Je viens de voir la tête du camion. Cette mission que tu avais en tête... qui as-tu choisi?" Jack m'a demandé d'aller plus loin. Kyle lui a offert un siège. Il s'est ensuite emparé des papiers, les a fouillés, puis a choisi ceux qui étaient pertinents et les a présentés devant Jack, en tapant le cluster pour qu'il mette l'accent sur lui.
Alors que Jack ramasse les fichiers et les percute, Kyle répond. "Sam Helter. 19."
L'expression de Jack est tombée en état de choc. Kyle est resté tel quel. "19? Et il est seul? Il va...
"Se faire tuer. Oui, je sais." Kyle a dit absent alors qu'il se déplaçait dans son siège, sourire toujours en place. "Je sais, ça craint, ça craint beaucoup, mais... bien, lisez. C'est une mallette. Papa a battu sa maman, maman l'a battu. Pour une raison quelconque, c'est les métahumains qui sont à blâmer parce que ses parents sont si misérables. Il est aussi celui qui a coupé la faune, selon les témoignages de quelques-uns des hommes. Tant qu'on le garde dans notre organisation, il est un danger pour tout le monde autour de nous. Il vaut mieux l'utiliser que de l'expulser, ce qui court le risque de défection. »
Jack s'est cogné, secouant la tête pendant que ses yeux scannaient les papiers dans ses mains. "Vous avez raison, je suppose. Mais faire un pion sacrificiel de l'enfant? Est-ce qu'il s'est évanoui dans une université de tous les endroits? »
Kyle a hurlé, sourire devenant un sourire. "Ouhuh! Je dois rappeler aux gens qu'on est là comment, leur dire qu'on continue à se battre. Il y en a sûrement d'autres qui sont juste malades à mort de vivre sous le talon de nos anciens ennemis, non? D'ailleurs, c'est une université-conclave. C'est une zone de feu libre, en ce qui me concerne. Honnêtement, combien de non-métas vous attendez-vous vraiment à finir dans un tel endroit, hein? Ce n'est pas l'école de Galilée en Israël. C'est par muties, pour muties. Les humains sont des citoyens de deuxième classe. Par nature, même."
Jack respira fortement et se dirigea vers l'avant pour se pencher contre le coude du bureau en premier, ses doigts traçant le long de sa moustache dans la contemplation. "Combien... quelque chose entre certains et aucun, oui. Mais... il est toujours l'un des nôtres. Et le jeter pour un... massacre. C'est juste que ça ne se sent pas bien, tu sais?"
Kyle a coulé vers le bureau pour rencontrer le regard de Jack, les doigts empreints. "Quand je suis rentré de la Seconde Guerre de Crimée, j'ai été inondé de manifestants. Parmi les sonorités habituelles, comme'meurtre', 'fasciste', 'tueur de bébé', j'en ai aussi une nouvelle: 'Vous êtes utilisés! Vous n'êtes que des héros jetables!' Comme je le vois, nous n'avons pas de martyrs qui n'aient pas d'années et d'années. J'ai déjà le sentiment que l'apathie s'installe à la baisse. La façon dont je le vois, nous avons besoin de héros jetables pour piéger le moteur," Kyle a légèrement incliné sa tête, "Oui? C'est pas vrai? Téléphonez à un ami?"
___________________________________________
Sam Helter avait été jeté dans la nature sauvage, non loin du périmètre de Manhattan, mais c'était encore une promenade équitable, et plusieurs voyages en bus, pour arriver à sa destination. Il lui a été difficile de résister à la tentation d'apporter une main au sac qui lui était accroché par une sangle qui lui avait été versée sur l'épaule. Il pressa profondément la main et la tira le long des rainures de la carbine cachée à l'intérieur. « C'est réel, se dit-il, j'ai attendu ça toute ma vie. » Son sourire rayonnait, et il tremblait d'excitation.
Le lettrage en fer de la pancarte qui couronne la colline devant a écrit "The Manhattan Memorial Institute". Son objectif et son destin étaient si proches maintenant.
Howdy! This looks hella neat, and I'd like to join. My character is a bit of a port/alternate universe version of a character from a slightly older RP similar to this ("Forest of Secrets"), if that's okay. I've rewritten things to try and make it more fitting to this particular setting, of course. Bear in mind this is a bit of a draft, until some things are cleared up/problems are pointed out, etc.

Kyle Kruger



Age: Appears to be in his late 40s.
Eye Colors: Bright green.
Personality: Unusually exuberant and slightly eccentric. It is truly difficult to find the man in anything but high spirits, earning him the nickname "Smiles." Beyond this demeanour is a man that is absolutely devoid of empathy when it comes to his enemies, a mentality born, in contrast, from his unbreakable love and loyalty towards the things he has devoted himself to the protection of.
Type: Pure human
Skills: Kyle is a capable leader of his men, among whom he has instilled respect through his consistent ability to get results. His expertise has been sharpened by decades of service on foreign battlefields and back home against metahuman resistance groups during the Callahan government. Now finding himself and his men on the opposite side of asymmetrical warfare, he has proven more than adept at learning from and applying the techniques of his old adversaries.
Bio: An aged special forces veteran turned Hunter and counter-insurgency tactician of the Callahan presidency. With his absolute hatred for Metahuman kind, he was not much of a fan of the new world ushered in after the fall of the human supremacist government. Equal scorn was directed towards the government itself who, as it turned out, had caused the mess and the creation of these monsters he so despises in the first place. Kyle and his old unit, the "Storm Hounds", successfully evaded justice, and went underground for many decades, remaining in contact through a covert network. This network managed to find its influence surreptitiously seeping into various human purity groups, from there drawing new recruits. The Storm Hounds gradually evolved from a special forces unit on the run into a small terrorist cell in its own right.
Although Kyle and his assembled force hold nothing but contempt for metahuman kind, they have become unwitting defenders of the system through taking their fight to the Scions of Divinity, who they see as a greater threat to pure humanity.

Bottles emptied of their contents were scattered all through the office, joining other debris that had been torn apart and thrown to the ground. A figure slouched over his desk, head in one hand, pen held between quivering fingers in the other. His chest heaved heavily. Outstretched before him was a journal. The page header read "June 12th 2030." The prior entry, June 11th, after many furiously scribbled out lines, simply stated "Today Callahan is impeached. The war against the metahumans is over." Kyle brought his baleful, red stained eyes up to a framed photograph. It depicted Kyle Kruger himself and his men in formation during a visit to the base by President Callahan. He counted up the faces in that picture that belonged to comrades now buried. Swallowing down his rage, he returned to penning the newest entry: "June 12th: The Storm Hounds declare war on metahuman kind." Kyle's mouth twitched into a tired grin at this. He snapped the journal shut and slipped it into his pocket as he rose to his feet.
Later that day he gave the order to his men to suit up. The first shots of Kyle's personal war were fired by the Storm Hounds against their former brethren in the military that had come to apprehend them. From there, they scattered into the wilderness, vanishing from sight and, months after that, from memory. There were rumors, of course, of a mysterious force spotted in the depths of American woods, of hidden training grounds and outposts. While traces of these things could be found when investigations were launched, they proved excellent at covering their tracks, remaining forever elusive.
Other:
- "Storm Hound" originated as a military task force formed from 50 paratroopers of the 101st Airborne Division to perform counter-insurgency warfare, ultimately aiming to "Outguerrilla the guerrillas." They were later responsible for many atrocities under Callahan's orders. Usage of the name has spread to Kyle Kruger's human supremacist organization as a whole.
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Theme Song: "Running Gun Blues" - David Bowie

In the other RP, he and his original team of buddies had power armor + combat stims to better the odds of surviving encounters with metahumans. I wasn't sure if that'd fit into your idea of technology in this particular setting, so I figured it'd be better to just ask if it's okay to throw that in. Of course that'd just be Kyle and the original Storm Hounds with power armor, not newer recruits to his anti-metahuman organization. Without proper maintenance crews, the power armor would be of dodgy condition and with a lot of improvised maintenance by this time, given they've been on the run for so long.