The Streets of San Francisco, CA - August 28th, 2007 5:00 AM


Del Spooner watches and waits for his moment. The thumping of steel on ash leaves a distinctive sound and he can hear it growing fainter. His foes are marching away, maybe to kill some other hidden interloper. It’s just as well, Del thinks to himself, to them one dead human will probably fulfill their mission parameters.

Spooner stands from his hiding spot behind the burned out husk of Old Saint Mary’s. The intel he’d gotten had been solid: there was a note left behind, just like Connor had theorized. It was scribbled hastily and buried in ash, but it was definitely recent. It simply read: “Don’t lose hope. We can still save the world.”

Del scans the note and attaches it to a miniature droid kept in his arm. He pushes the droid on its back and it takes off.

“Don’t worry, girl,” he whispers. “I’ll be right behind you. I hope.” He waits a minute longer and finally hears the plasma fire erupting, shredding some poor soul a few blocks over. This is his chance: he leaps from his hiding spot and takes off. He’d need to get past the city limits if he was going to have a moment to breathe again, and that was a straight dash East. He kicks the pavement as he bolts down before running into an outstretched metal arm that pokes out from behind a building corner. Del hears his jaw shatter and watches the world spin as he flips through the air. When his vision returns, he sees a metal foot stomping the ground next to his face.

“Returning to Colorado, I presume,” the machine purrs, its voice a mechanical drone behind the speakers of its unmoving metal lips. The Terminator is a gross simulacrum of a human skeleton and Del curses it as its mere existence taunts him. “We know where Connor is, Detective Spooner. We know where you all are. SkyNet will complete what it was designed to do: exterminate all of you.”

Del laughs and spits up blood and maybe a tooth, he can’t tell.

“Exterminate us?” he says, feeling the heat of the Terminator’s plasma rifle charging. “You’re gonna have to take a number.”

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Five Points Station, Atlanta, GA - August 28th, 2007 4:30 PM


“The book,” Damian scowls. “Do you have it? If you’ve come before me again without the book then I think I might have to rethink our agreement.” Guy can barely take the piercing stare of the boy’s cold eyes, but he still stands firm. He’s practiced for this.

“Not with me, Mr. Thorn,” he replies. He can feel the quiver in his own voice – he knows Damian notices as he watches the small smile creep upon his face. “I have a lead, though. It’s still in Nightwatch territory. It-it-“ Damian steps forward ever so slightly.

“So you don’t have it,” the boy growls despite the grin on his chubby face. “Mr. Woodhouse, your services are simply no longer needed. Our deal is done.” With a hand outstretched, Guy twitches for a bit as his eyes turn ebony. He gasps his last and then crumples to the floor. Damian takes out a small crystal and within it he sees the visage of two glowering red eyes.

“My Lord,” he whispers, “the mortals left here are proving less than useful. I believe the book is heading out of our lands and towards that of the resistance movements. If they get the book, or even the machines-“ Damian hears the voice in his head, assuring him that all is going according to plan. That the war is coming and they shall win. Damian wraps the crystal in a small shroud and hides it in his coat pocket before leaving Guy Woodhouse’s corpse to rot in the old building.

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John Connor’s Bunker, Denver, CO - August 28th, 2007 6:01 PM

”Caterpillar Files?” John Connor asks, addressing the withered man standing before him. “What do you mean? What is ‘The League?’”

“A long time ago,” the old man grunts, “before Judgement Day, before everything, my mentor, Dr. Jones, wanted to form a group of skilled individuals, people who, when brought together, might be able to achieve extraordinary things. Dr. Jones was killed by a serial killer before he could bring them together, but these files show people he had predicted might be useful in the future. Those still living are on top.”

“Where do I know you from, old man?” Connor sifts his hands through the files. Some familiar faces, some new.

“You came to me,” the old man coughs. “Right before the end, before the bombs dropped. My name is Wan Li and I worked for Dr. Henry ‘Indiana’ Jones. I am not long for this world, John Connor, so maybe it’s up to you to save it.” John merely looks down at the files and balls his fists.

War is coming.

CapitalistPig posted:

Holy shitballs yes.

mr.capps posted:

btw, how is alaska and hawaii doing?

Little Mac posted:

No one's heard from either in a decade.

Tremendous Taste posted:

Meinberg posted:

I'm coming out of retirement.

Runaktla posted:

Hey take me off the list the next couple weeks at work are gonna suck and I could avoid the distraction (in another mafia game too but it may end soon).

Little Mac posted:

There are no death millers.

merk posted:

I am going to post no more than three times each game day.

Mornacale posted:

Oh cool a Mafia game about hit TV show The League, I hope I get to be Raffi