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Default Murder City {Remake RP} - 07-28-2010, 07:33 PM

1. If you have never RPed with me before, then you MUST PM me with your intro for approval. Do NOT post in the RP until you have been approved; if you do, then your post will be deleted. Repeated offenders will simply be disallowed from joining the RP.

2. Obey the main RPG forum rules. No Mary Sues or Gary Stus.

3. Please don't post a Diclonius character without asking me first. I do not want the RP to be overrun with Diclonii and no humans.

4. This RP is very loosely based on Elfen Lied, however it is set in America, not Japan so please create characters accordingly. The RP is based in the near future, so technology is fine. However, characters are not permitted to have powers.

5. This RP has violent themes so is rated M. There are no character profiles; please introduce your character in your intro.


In Murder City, there are thousands of people, each with their own story to tell. The people are crowded together in high rise flats, slum areas and also in the various motels scattered around. All save the rich, who live in the exclusive houses with their perfect security, and the five star hotels with their view of the city spread out below. The city's real name is the less frightening Metaro City; however, few refer to it by that name now. Not after what happened thirty years ago. A series of murders. A murderer who was never caught, who roamed the city killing people at random by strangling, and then removing the head and hands. After eleven months where the residents of the city were terrified, and the police overworked and baffled, the murders suddenly ceased for no apparent reason never to resume. The murderer also vanished without trace and despite the large amounts of attention seekers who appeared after, claiming to be the elusive killer, none of them was the murderer. Eventually, memories of the series of events began to fade and the killings were half forgotten. However, one thing remained to remind the residents of what had happened; the city ended up being nicknamed Murder City rather than Metaro City, and that was the name that it was known by forever after.

Secrets litter the city, some good and some bad. And some that are evil beyond comparison. One such secret is the laboratory that resides in the centre of the town. To the public, the laboratory's function is to research medicine and find cures for cancer. The labs are regularly inspected, and nothing untoward is suspected. However, behind a door that is hidden behind the portrait of the founder on the first floor, is the secret. A staircase leads down to the hidden laboratory where the scientists perform far more sinister tasks. There is a newly evolved species of human, called a Diclonius. For years, this has been kept a closely guarded secret, on a strictly need to know basis. Diclonii look basically human, save for their brightly coloured hair and red eyes, and the two white horns either side of their heads shaped like cat ears. These are the base of the power of the Diclonius; the psychic arms that emerge from their backs with a reach of at least two feet. Diclonii have an urge to kill, especially humans, and will use their vectors for this purpose. The arms are invisible, so are impossible to avoid unless you happen to be beyond their reach. Diclonii can sense each other's presence, and mostly breed by using their vectors. The rare Diclonii that can breed normally are called queens; the vast majority are sterile and are called Silpelits. Diclonii are mostly female, but are as a general rule, dangerous. This is mainly to do with the treatment meted out to them, by the scientists who study them.

The Diclonii originate in Japan, and were studied in laboratories there. However, after an incident at one such laboratory, several scientists decided that it was far too dangerous to continue the research in the conditions they were being given, and defected to America, taking with them a group of Silpelits. The Japanese scientists soon chose the laboratory in Murder City, after rejecting several offers from other places, as it offered the most money as well as the secret lab to work in. The owner of the laboratory is a man named Charles Endevour. His laboratory is named Endevour after him and boasts the highest technology as well as the finest equipment. Therefore, it is only logical that he should want to hire the best scientists to work with said technology and equipment. He also craves power, and desires to create a set of living weapons with which to take over the government and satisfy his craving for power and dominion. The Japanese scientists, with their Silpelits, were the answer to his prayers. Charles soon persuaded the Japanese scientists to put the Silpelits thru a new technological machine that his top American scientists had created. It was called the Neogenic Recombinator, and rats who were put thru the machine soon developed strength and senses beyond those of normal rats. Charles wanted now to move up to human experiments and the Diclonii were near enough human for him to suggest putting them thru the Recombinator. After all, there were few who would object.

The Diclonii who were put thru the machine were subtly different from the control group. They had infinate vectors, which were not invisible; rather, they were opaque and coloured. Their vectors also had infinate reach. They also were fertile and able to breed in the normal way, as well as thru using their vectors. Due to these changes, the group of Diclonii who had been thru the Neogenics Recombinator were afterwards refered to as Enhanced Diclonii. They were kept under even more strict security measures than the control group of Silpelits. All the Diclonii were given names after weather conditions by the American scientists, rather than the numbers that the Japanese had used. Everything was considered to be under control, and experiments on the Diclonii continued. Until one day, when a slight power flicker was to ruin the plans of Charles Endevour. The power flicker affected two cells, each on different sides of the laboratory and each containing a Diclonius. The doors were unlocked and the restraints removed. The Diclonii were free, and with just one thought on their minds... escape. The laboratory guards could not cope; one perhaps would have been recatchable, but two escaping at the same time was too difficult. Also, they had been taken entirely by surprise by the unexpected power cut and were unable to get themselves together quickly enough to prevent disaster. Two Diclonii were out there on the streets of Murder City, and there was absolutely nothing they could do about it.

Who are you in this situation? Are you a reporter, chasing that ever elusive story to propel you to the big time? You won't know of the Diclonii, but you might well harbour suspicions about Endevour Laboratory. Nothing like this has happened since the murders thirty years ago. Perhaps you're a member of the public, caught up in the drama. Or, just maybe, you're a scientist from Endevour, determined to recapture the Diclonii; dead or alive, by any means necessary.


Last edited by Miranda_ : 01-01-2012 at 06:27 PM.
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Default 01-01-2012, 06:34 PM

In a nearby alleyway, a runaway curled up on a pile of rags behind a dumpster. The boy was lean and tough, despite his youth; he was only fourteen years old and had run away from home three years previously, due to his mother being put in prison. The boy's name was Alonzo, tho he normally went by Lonnie, and he had never really understood why his mother had been arrested for his father's death. The police had simply assumed that she was to blame, even tho the murder had been unspeakably violent beyond reason...

Lonnie didn't know anything about the laboratory nearby, so didn't know what to think when the alarms rent the air. He assumed that a warehouse might have been broken into, and didn't know whether to stay where he was or leave the area. Lonnie didn't have much faith in the police and thought it likely that he might be arrested if he stayed in the area. Eventually, he decided to stay put; he was hidden where he was and was safest there.

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Default 01-05-2012, 07:35 PM

Zoey Fitzpatrick was the lead news anchor for Metaro City News, or otherwise known as "MCN". Zoey didn't really enjoy being a TV news anchor, she would rather be out there getting all the dirt on everything going on in town, but the raise from a minimal salary to a six figure one was simply to hard to turn down. Instead, Zoey kept most of her story-sniffing to her free time and would give leads to some of the other journalists. The recent possibility of a top-secret lab hidden inside Endevour Laboratory was enough to keep Zoey's free time very busy.

Although not beautiful, Zoey was quite happy looking the way she did. She had a plain look, with straight mousey brown hair and glasses, which was ideal for wanting to stay unnoticed when going undercover. Of course, now that she was seen on TV everyday, she couldn't hide behind her boring looks but actually had to learn how to sneak around like a common snake looking for it's dinner.

Zoey lived in the high-end portion of the city, spending most of her time looking out at the city from a hotel room on the 42nd floor of Hotel Bella. It didn't matter that she couldn't hear the alarms ringing, because what she did see, people panicking, was enough to get her running out of the hotel and hitching a cab ride into the middle of the city. She had a gut feeling something had gone down over at Endevour Laboratory, and she wanted to be the first to find out just what that "something" was. She urged the cab driver to pick up the pace.
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Default 01-07-2012, 09:22 AM

Sixteen-year-old Jerome du Chateau hated -no, detested- his last name; it was very, very French, despite the fact that his family had been diluted until it was a hodge-podge of races like many nowadays. And no one ever pronounced it right; the correct pronunciation was “doo shat-OH”, but most people said the second word as “chat-er”, or “chat-aw”.

In fact, Jerome didn't even look French; he had both African and Indian (but not Native American) ancestors on his mother's side, meaning he had smooth, milk chocolate skin and large, warm brown eyes. His nose was broad and flat, his eyebrows a bit feathery looking. His hair was, thank god, only slightly wavy; he'd have hated to deal with the odd curls other mixed kids got.

As he got frustrated with his Algebra 2 homework for the umpteenth time, he disgustedly shoved himself away from his desk and stood. “I need a break,” he muttered to himself. He decided he needed some fresh air, though the term “fresh” was relative within the confines of this city. He shoved on his shoes, made sure to grab the spare key, and headed out. Lazy, semi-rich boy that he was, he took the elevator to the first floor from his own floor, the tenth.

He stepped outside, wondering if he should go for a run, when he heard the sound of some sort of siren. But it wasn't a siren he recognized, like, say, an emergency vehicle, or even the tornado siren they tested on ever Wednesday at noon.

No, this one came from his right, and he shrugged it off; the apartment complex he and his father lived in was on the edge of the “good” side of town. Serving as a buffer between the good and the bad was a series of business buildings and a few warehouses. Oh, and that cancer-research place. His father often complained about living so close to what he sneeringly referred to as the “Broca Divide”, as if implying that the poor and destitute of Metaro City were somehow less than human.

Sometimes, Jerome actually agreed with his somewhat absentee, selfish father; today was one of those days. He snorted his disgust at the alarms, thinking Probably a bunch of stupid thugs, breaking into one of the warehouses, or even that doctor's place, hoping for drugs, he thought. He intensely hated how there were some with African heritage that only seemed to serve to perpetuate the stereotypes, stereotypes that had the other inhabitants of the complex and some students from school either snubbing him or clutching their purses/wallets more tightly.

Now, Jerome wasn't a mean or snobbish boy at all; in fact, he was really quite meek, and preferred to spend his time alone working on his character designs. But, raised as he was by a haughty, wealthy white man, some of the views of said man tended to rub off on him.

He tended to stay home during his free-time, wishing his father worked less, wishing he had the courage and sort of friends to go out more. Aside from runs or walks like the one he was about to do, he didn't go out on his own and deal with the outside world. As a result, he didn't have much life experience, and his views were shaped by those around him.

The boy had no idea how much of that was about to change, how the events of the recent blackout would serve to flip his world and rattle his views forever.

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Default 01-08-2012, 12:35 PM

Zehira couldn't believe what was going on. She stared at the monitors in the security center of Endevour, her clipboard falling out of her hands and clattering to the floor. Watching Rain kill the guards was abomidable, the scene horrific - but the worst part was watching her own ward, small Nikita, escape behind her.

Something the Japanese scientists had started years before was a sort of surrogate parent program - fathers and mothers, scientists, would foster the Diclonius, try to train them to think that being tormented was beneficial somehow. It rarely if ever worked; Zehira had seen that firsthand when she'd worked overseas. She'd transferred here with a number of them - her ward Nikita being one of them - and while 'Niki' had been renamed "Snowflake" by the Americans, the name hadn't taken. She adamantly refused to answer to it or to any of them, only responding to her "mother."

Seventeen years old and small framed, Nikita had been a very tame subject among the unenhanced Diclonius; responded well to tests and was quite docile when Zehira was around. But whenever the blond woman wasn't around, something changed. Kita's eyes would dilate, she would freeze in place, and stare at whoever was left behind with her. But she had never attacked; simply had strange episodes where she'd laugh and laugh and laugh in the silence of her cell. Sometimes two voices could be heard - Nikita's quiet, scared voice, and another voice - a woman's, but darker, angrier, violent, telling Nikita to attack the guards. But the voice always went away.

Now, Nikita, wearing raggy pants and a plain white shirt Zehira had gifted her as a treat for being so complacent during a recent fairly grueling test, was making her way through the destruction Rain had waged. She had a wide-eyed Thousand Yard Stare, didn't seem to even acknowledge the gore around her as she found the exit, and she stopped at the exit. Her escape had been simple enough; the guards had been more concerned with Rain escaping since she was the one killing them all. Nikita was too docile to attack.

Zehira watched her ward walk through the door and stare outside, bloody footprints a trail behind her, and Nikita turned around. Zehira's heart stopped; the face was wrong. The smile was vicious, the eyes hard and full of malignant glee. But it disappeared and Nikita was back to her terrified, docile state, and she bolted like a startled deer when one of the guards twitched post-mortem.

"... We find Snowflake first. She... she is least likely to attack. Rain can wait."


Nikita winced as her feet scraped against hard concrete with each slam of her soles against the ground, running as fast and as hard as she could into the city slums. She managed to circle around and dove into an alleyway, sort of bodyslamming a dumpster as she did and collapsing near Lonnie. She sobbed and curled up into a ball, her hands covering her horns and her tiny frame shaking. She wanted Mom; Mom never hurt her, always made her feel better after the scientists tested on her. Mom wouldn't... Mom was... where was Mom?

The voice in her head just snarled at the thought and receded away.

"Owie," she mumbled; her feet were aching horribly and she twisted her leg a bit to inspect the bottom of her right foot. She'd stepped on glass at some point and her foot was now bleeding, the bright red a contrast to the darkening guards' blood.


Diane Eleanor heard the alarm and just pulled her pillow over her head. The thirty year old loathed daytime when she had migraines - at least, she thought it was daytime. She'd been laying in bed for so long, she had no idea what time it was. Her fiance Larry Copzer was quietly reading in bed next to her, his headphones on; being blind, he both read the braille on the pages and listened to audiotapes. It helped, apparently. She pulled on his arm a bit after finding it, and he tugged one of the speakers off his ear.

"Yes, love?"

"Can I have some more of that spiked cocoa you make? It helped last time." Her voice was muffled and he smiled at her, rubbing her shoulder.

"Of course. Captain or Smirnoff?"

"Whichever had the mulled flavor. Was kinda smokey." She whined a bit and buried her head deeper into the bed, though at this point that was rather difficult. "We need thicker curtains. I hate living in the Divide, those stupid alarms are so loud."

"We'll be moving next week, love. We're already packed up, just waiting for the furniture to arrive at the new place and we'll be right as rain."

"I know." She sniffed and peeked out at him; the dim light of the lamp was even too much for her and her eyes watered, but she just squinted to deal with it. They were both vibrant redheads, both tanned, and both enjoyed golf. She still wasn't sure how he played so well and he was also ridiculously good at cards.

Oh, well. She was glad for him; if not for him, she'd have stayed in Vice at the police station, never caring about the next day. Because of him, she'd finally slowed down, relaxed; and she'd requested a move in department as well, after a close call - not on her part but his. He'd been her partner; but a car crash and head injury took away his sight, she wanted to be there in case he needed her and working in Vice was a bad idea if she wanted to stay alive in the long run.

He came back a little bit later with a hot mug of his spiked cocoa, and she sat up to drink it despite her swimming vision. "I love your face."

"I love yours too." He kissed her on her one scarred cheek; a handful of lines marred it, a very narrowly missed shotgun blast from a traffic case a few years before they met. "Get some sleep, alright, Di?"

"Mhm." She settled back against the headboard, hands clasped around the cup and her eyes shut.

I stare at the girl in the mirror: T-shirt, torn up jeans, no beauty queen.
But the way that you see me, you get underneath me, and all my defenses just fall away, fall away.
I am beautiful with you, even in the darkest part of me. I am beautiful with you;
Make it feel the way it's supposed to be!

You're here with me: Just show me this and I'll believe I am beautiful with you!
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Default 01-08-2012, 03:11 PM

Ooc: RP can start now.

Rain fled thru the streets, not looking where she was going and not caring, either. Her white shift was spattered with blood, and her bare feet soon bled too as they were cut by the hard surface she was running on. The alarms screamed behind her; all Rain cared about at this moment was escaping the terrible sound. Soon she had left the laboratory behind and was deep within the anonymous streets. The diclonius girl collapsed on to the ground, gasping for breath. She stared around with wide eyes; Rain had seen nothing like this place before, all she'd ever known in her life was sterile laboratories. She caught her breath, staying in a sitting position as she tried to calm herself down.

Lonnie looked up with a jerk of his head as a girl collapsed next to him. The girl was small and slight and had blood on her legs. Something about her appearence almost triggered a memory from his past, something he'd pushed to the back of his mind... Lonnie shook his head, not wanting to remember and reached out a tentative hand to touch the girl's shoulder.

"You alright?" he said, while inwardly thinking that he'd never seen anyone less alright than this girl.

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