A Breadly Departure
Posted 17 November 2013 - 02:20
This is my second time writing a thread like this, but this time I don't know how to start it... So I'm going to compose a story until something good and meaningful springs to mind.
[SPOILER=Random Personal Writing ]The Wheel of Time turns and Ages come and go, men live and die, and wars are won and lost. However, one man stood above the rest, winning battles and bettering the world with his intellect and good will. On a cold Winter morning, this man mysteriously fell from the 31st floor of his company's building, the bullet wound in his head suggesting the fall was not the cause of his death. His assassin slipped away unseen but even having never laid eyes upon this character, they knew he must be a devilishly handsome, infinitely clever man of great standing. This is where our story begins, with this assassin known as The Tiger of the West while he worked and elsewhere living under the alias of Daniel Tobin.
Having completed his contract, he waited at the drop point he and his client had agreed upon. €10million for an act that might have been difficult for an ordinary man and that took our hero all of 10 minutes to plan and execute. He had really only been passing by but he had decided Subway could wait when there was such easy money to be earned. Now enjoying his meatball marinara, he watched the drop point intently and checked his watch. 3:34. His client was late and the assassin did not like being forced to wait. Nor did he plan on doing so. He finished his sandwich and prepared to leave when he noticed a woman across the street holding a large duffel bag and scanning the rooftops. It was go time. He quickly raised his neck scarf over his nose and pulled his hood over his well-styled, jet black hair. The woman finally spotted him and even from that distance, he could see the fear in her eyes. He frowned. This woman was making the drop too obvious for his liking. Still staring, she lifted her bag and attempted to place it into the bin that was to serve as their drop point. However, the bag was too bulky and she frantically shoved at it, trying desperately to make it fit. She was garnering attention from a number of passers-by and from the roof of the neighbouring building, our hero grew annoyed. This woman could cost him his money if any of those people down there decided to act upon their curiosity and see what this woman was so desperate to dispose of. Realising the scene she was causing, the woman took a short running start and threw all her weight into pushing this bag through a hole clearly not designed for such large items. And it finally went through, but not without bursting open and scattering his money across the street.
People who had seen were quickly rushing to the bin to collect the millions he had earned. In a few minutes, the street would be crowded with people and his money lost. He needed a way to get the people to move away from his money instead of towards it. Using his impressive intellect, our hero quickly thought of an idea that would solve his problem and satisfy his vengeful nature. He scanned the crowds already amassing around the the assassin's earnings. The woman had started sprinting down the road as soon as the bag had burst and he spotted her pushing past people in an attempt to quickly flee the scene. An attempt that would prove futile. Opening up his own bag, he lifted out a sleek, custom-built sniper rifle. The cold metal of the gun felt comfortable in his hands. He lined up his shot, allowing the woman to get clear of the crowds before he fired. She collapsed instantly and the crowd of greedy people was now a panicked mob, running from the bag while simultaneously trying to grab any money they could reach. He looked down at this fool of a woman clutching her leg in agony. The pain was causing her to ignore the danger of the situation. She was lying on the ground dozens of frenzied people were about to cross. He did not need to look any longer. He packed his gun away and descended the stairs to the side of the building that served as a fire escape. He walked, there was no need to hurry; the street was almost clear of people and there was nobody moving towards his money any more. Most of the remaining notes had been trampled into the ground, like an orange carpet surrounding the bin. He carefully maneuvered the burst bag out of the bin, bending it until it fit through the hole. It still contained a decent amount of money, not what he deserved but at least it was enough to buy him another meatball marinara or two. He looked down the street at the woman who had caused this mess. She lay sprawled across the footpath, unmoving but alive. He put the burst bag into his own and walked towards her. He searched her pockets, recovering her phone, wallet and car keys. He emptied the wallet. He took a few of the cards and returned the wallet to her pocket along with her phone. He clicked the alarm button on the keys and followed the sound to the car. He smiled; this car should cover part of the reparations he would get from his client. At least he had received something for his work, he thought as he drove away in his new Lamborghini.
He drove on, piecing together a plan as he went. He needed to arrange a meeting with his client, but news of the day's events would reach him before a meeting would actually go ahead. His client was a busy man and did not appreciate the last time the assassin arrived unannounced. Although, our hero's skill in dispatching of the guards had impressed him into offering our hero a job as opposed to the pointy end of a sword, a second unannounced arrival would certainly anger the man into a fight. Something that, he hoped anyway, could be avoided. Our hero decided to turn on the radio; music always helped him think. As he approached a junction, the sudden booming voice of an Australian woman almost caused him to drive straight through it: "Turn left on to North Circular Road."
He checked the screen on the dashboard that had switched from a list of radio stations to a map of the area. It was directing him back the way he had come. He flicked through the settings, looking for previously entered destinations. He went through them, reading the addresses and mentally picturing the area around them: A house number in Castleknock that was probably her own, the drop point area, the place he had originally met his client. He kept scrolling until he reached an odd address; it was out in Jamestown Industrial Estate. The area was not what was strange about it, it was just another industrial estate in a run-down area of Dublin. What was odd was the fact that the map was pointing to an exact location between two warehouses. He smiled, he had found his client's location.
He took out his phone and looked up the location on the internet as he drove. The entire estate had been bought a few years ago by Don Diego de la Vega, a Californio nobleman. This man could be his client, but so could any dark-skinned man. The last time he had met his client, he had been wearing a mask and from what he gathered from the client's guard, the mask was usual. The mask was a black cloth with eye-holes, simple yet effective at concealing his identity. However, this de la Vega character did have the same body build and facial structure as the client. This was probably his client, he thought. Don Diego de la Vega. The assassin committed the name to memory. He arrived at the industrial estate, an early afternoon wind whipping his hood down as he stood out of the car. His well-maintained and utterly perfect physique stood in sharp contrast to the area that surrounded him now; it was a dishevelled, ugly and dull place. Grey building after grey building lay before him, with no way to tell them apart. However, the map had directed him to a specific area so our hero decided to seek out this mysterious location.
A short walk led him to the spot, a place that seemed to be completely devoid of life. An untrained man would assume it was empty but our hero knew better. Scanning the area before he entered, he spotted four security cameras all directed towards the centre of the lane he walked along. He inspected the one closest to him, ensuring it could not see him. Dust covered all but its lens and a weak red light shone from its side. He suspected its poorly-maintained appearance was a purposeful one. Turning his attention now to the centre of the lane, he sighted a manhole. It did not stand out in any way compared to the other manholes he had seen as he walked but he knew it must be important if it warranted the watch of four disguised cameras. Well, if he was to approach it unseen, the cameras needed to be removed. However, knowing the kind of man his client was, our hero knew he could not just cut the wires. He suspected the man would have alarms run on alternate power supplies ready to go off the second he did. He also knew that the area would be well guarded despite its outward appearance. Looking back to the clean lens of the camera, an idea struck him. He reopened his bag taking his sword from it, one of the two weapons the bag contained. The handle fitted perfectly into his hand as he gripped it. The blade was thin but the assassin knew it was sturdy and would not be broken easily. Using the reach the sword gave him, he struck the gutter above the camera, slicing through it without the need of much force. Wet leaves flowed out of the falling gutter in a stream, covering the front of the camera. Perfect. He quickly moved to one of the lanes branching off from the road and waited.
As expected, the manhole opened after a few minutes to reveal a large, chunky man in a navy jumpsuit. Even on this dull afternoon, light bounced off his bald head. His scraggly, ginger beard looked like a forest fire beneath his nose. He was exactly the kind of man you would expect to climb out of a manhole. He waddled over to the covered camera, grumbling to himself as he walked. Our hero slid out from the lane he had been hiding in, ensuring the heavy man could not see him. The assassin waited for the man to get out of the cameras' line of sight before approaching. He glided across the concrete soundlessly until he reached the man. Our hero raised his hands to choke him and then stopped. The man was still complaining to himself, now about the darkness of his work station. Our hero pitied this spherical man and his poor lifestyle. Deciding not to injure the man, the assassin took a few silent steps back and then coughed. The man turned slowly, a look of surprise on his face.
"Hi," our hero greeted him, "How's your day going?"
The man's face contorted into one of bewilderment.
"Uhh, fine... I guess."
"Good, I was wondering if you would be interested in trading with me?"
The man was now completely confused.
"What kind of trade?" he said slowly, suspicious of the assassin's intentions.
"It's a simple one really, my car for your clothes."
"Are you interested? It's a really nice car."
The man looked him up and down, as if studying him would give him the answer to the question. After a short time, he responded:
"Well, just your jumpsuit. The rest is..." He searched for the right word and tried to resist shuddering at the image that had come to mind, "unnecessary."
The man did not seem to notice.
"Are you serious?"
"Of course," our hero said, tossing the keys to the startled man who barely caught them, "it's parked to the front."
He pointed towards the entrance to the complex. After a short look at the keys, the man was satisfied and changed out of his jumpsuit and stood in a vest and boxers. He moved towards the manhole but the assassin stopped him.
"Where are you going?" our hero asked.
"My clothes are down there, I was going to-"
"Never mind the clothes, your car awaits."
The man jumped at the sudden change in our hero's tone and lumbered away in the direction of the car. The assassin picked up the jumpsuit and put it on over his own clothes, ignoring it's odd stench and enormous size. He put his hood up and hoped it would not give away that he was any different than the large man that had exited the manhole. He lifted the manhole lid and climbed down the ladder. He listened for a moment. There was no sound of footsteps or guards moving. Good. He was in.
The area he was in was dark but he could see torches glowing a short distance away. This was no sewer anyway. He walked down the tunnel to the light. Following the torches, he was brought to a sturdy wooden door with a metal slit that opened from the other side. He knocked twice. The slit slid open and a scratchy deep voice spoke quickly:
The assassin looked down at his name-tag.
"Howard Julian." He felt even worse for the large ginger man.
Our hero placed the card on the metal of the slit and a hand snatched it up from the other side. After a few seconds, the door opened and a short, middle-aged man with a frown looked up at him.
"You're not Howard," he said accusingly.
"Of course I am, how else would I have that card?"
"You don't even look like him," the man said looking at the card again, as if making sure.
"I got a haircut."
The man shook his head.
"I'm calling the guards," he said, reaching for his pocket.
A swift, nose-crunching punch to the face stopped that attempt and the man hit the floor clutching his face. Before he made too much noise, our hero grabbed him by the throat and lifted him up. The man made a gurgling noise as his feet left the ground and he held at the assassin's hand.
"Where is Don Diego de la Vega?" our hero asked, loosening his grip so the man could answer.
"I don't know who that is!" he spluttered, spitting blood as he spoke.
Of course, the assassin realised, nobody else would know him by that name here if he wore that mask the whole time. He lowered the man to the ground but brought his head in close.
"Where is Zorro?"
Heh, I rather enjoyed that! I did steal a few extracts from several novels but whatever. Sadly, it didn't help with my introduction issues so I'm going to keep it simple and sweet.
I have decided to leave LDT.
I would write a long sentimental essay on my time here in LDT but I really don't want to and I doubt anyone would want to read it.
There are countless people who I'd like to thank and if I was to list each individual it'd more than likely take me longer to do that then it did for me to write that story above. So instead, I thank all those who made my time here at LDT most enjoyable. You all know who you are!
Now, onto to the nitty gritty shit.
I'm leaving LDT because:
- I've got more important things to do. I have to focus on study and work. I simply don't have enough hours in the week to spare so sacrifices are required and I'm sorry to say that gaming and being heavily involved in a large community falls under "Dans sacrifice list". These priorities are not permanent though so there is a possibility of return.
- I'm not enjoying LDT as much as I used to. I find myself getting stressed over things that go on within this community and stress is the one thing that I need to avoid. Don't get me wrong though, I only feel that way in relation to the way LDT has formed itself throughout the years. On the servers there has always been a friendly atmosphere which I've always enjoyed. Nonetheless; it is a distraction I need to get rid of.
There's a possibility that I will return in the future but to answer "when" is impossible right now. I'll visit the forums from time to time and I'll be logged into Steam so feel free to contact me when I'm online!
My leaving will not alter my decision on whether or not I will attend CampZone14, the only deciding factor there is my work holidays which I should find out shortly!
And finally; it's been a blast guys! I've been apart of this community since it was founded and I've had the privilege of getting to know an endless stream of unforgettable people! I'm sorry that I won't be around to lend a hand in moderation and such but I need to do this for myself. I need to get my life on track before I can waste it without consequence.
Thanks for reading and farewell, sláinte!
Religion is like a penis;
It's good to have one, and you should be proud proud of it!
But don't go taking it out in public and don't go around shoving it down other people's throats...
Posted 17 November 2013 - 02:37
"still that smileyface guy also called yigwog still is a nerd and ugly" - Eddyke1
Posted 17 November 2013 - 02:40
Posted 17 November 2013 - 02:43
Have fun on your future endeavours.
Inaat : urban ddpat
Inaat : u serios
Posted 17 November 2013 - 03:33
raf simons rick owens usually what i'm dressed in
Yeah because I wasn't the was I?!?
copping wavey garms on the daily
"why would you get mad at a game?" - Marmite
Posted 17 November 2013 - 04:27
It's all my fault...
Yeah, but so many moderators are leaving so suddenly, what should we do?
Posted 17 November 2013 - 05:25
Well, good luck then! And also...
They always come back.
Posted 17 November 2013 - 09:24
But good luck with whatever life throws at you Dan. We shall be waiting for you after you've returned with your pot of gold.
UnDead is now dead
Posted 17 November 2013 - 09:53
Good luck with whatever may come your way
Posted 17 November 2013 - 11:36
I LOV POKAYMUNS
Posted 17 November 2013 - 11:58
Prepare your anus! "Wow, his face is a potato as well." - Revengekeuh
Posted 17 November 2013 - 12:02
What is the point of becoming member now, when all the old members are leaving?
Posted 17 November 2013 - 12:36
What is the point of becoming member now, when all the old members are leaving?
Taking over their duty I guess?
I LOV POKAYMUNS
Posted 17 November 2013 - 12:58
Posted 17 November 2013 - 13:02
Good luck in your future stuff
Posted 17 November 2013 - 13:13
Good luck with whatever you are going to do.
"You better add fox so you can feel normal with him" ~Dr Scheisse
"You know what would suck? If Half life 3 sucked." ~Pie
"This all wouldnt be happend." ~ eddyke1
"Tachibana.♥: Im German remember
Tachibana.♥: Heil Hitler."
Posted 17 November 2013 - 13:57
Stephen hawking can't even move his arms and he wrote a dozen books without error.
Your impairment is NOT an excuse.
Posted 17 November 2013 - 14:12
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