Freedom Faction RP

((Does that mean I can't be an officer??? As the strategist I hope to be in the officer list.

As I said, I'm in GMT+8 and I'm working so i might be slow. I hope you'll at least put up with me. If not, I can just quit before this starts, although it'll be too bad since I can join.....))

Tell me why I should make you an officer in a PM, chances are I'll grant it.

((OOC: Kage, you'd know if you go to CTFG. Lol. I simply find it fun.))

Name: Mira Holmes
Gender: Female.
Age: 17
Occupation before the faction: High School and well... just a certain someone always with her father on military headquarters.
Weapon of choice: She carries two katanas (both of them cross each other) on her back, mostly covered by the thin and transparent fabric that flaunts in the air from her hair. And she also carries a gold Mauser C96 which is holstered on her right thigh and an Ares Shrike:


Appearance:
Role within the faction: One of the officers.

Additional skills: Leadership. Knowledge about military weaponry, guns, tactics, and even classified information, etc. Basic training on first aid... for emergencies (I guess).

Interesting fact: She's quite young for an officer. She always seems to be browsing the internet through her laptop, always reading and learning something. She also likes to read books sometimes.

Biography/Background: It is apparent that the origin of Mira's family is England. But that aside, Mira has a taciturn and cool personality usually, though they say that she loses her temper fast sometimes. But it'd break off if it's a kind of discussion that she really gets into. Her father died sometime ago and she wanting to be his replacement just had to become the replacement, she couldn't refuse it when she got the chance, she wanted to follow on her father's footsteps; due to her immense love for her late parent. Her mother is well and alive and always wants her to just turn back from the ranking and military itself and live a normal life. But she tends to ignore her now.

Mira was usually trained ever since she was very young as she always wanted to one day serve the military and hence she has the skills of a normal solider or perhaps just above average, but not much more than that, though she's said to be a bit slow due to the amount of weapon she sometimes carries and this gets some people to mock her, after which she'd respond with "You have to move slowly or else you lack elegance!", just to save her pride sometimes. She always seems to read books, articles on the internet and other sources, even old history documents to fuel her knowledge; feeling that her knowledge is not enough as an officer, but she is not the classical 'bookworm' who love and are addicted to reading books. She is also said to be an aristocratic person usually and will show manners to those who are of higher ranks or has her respects.

I've heard a lot of "when is it going to start messages, to address all of them at once, as soon as we iron out the posting schedule to so something that works for all the players or at a minimum a majority and working around the rest. I'm concerned about leaving players behind. Hopefully ironing that out will take long enough for me to no longer be sick, but if not then I'll keep along barring any excessive visits of my face to a bucket... I'm still going to work though so I'll keep on posting.

As promised here is the opening setting. I was riding the wire today as to whether or not I'd make it, but here it is.

Opening setting:

The King's Court pub in Leesburg Virginia members of the Freedom Faction are instructed to meet the painter and follow him to the new headquarters. The pub is open with a bustling weekend crowd, pleasant conversation and wisps of cigarette smoke hang in the air as the painter arrives. He is a man in his early fifties going by the name of Jack. He always had a strange smile on his face, but it was a warm smile that reflected his kind nature. An idealist and an articulate man Jack was one of the Faction's founding members. He greets the officers with a nod and a polite grin as he orders a beer and sits at a round table gesturing the officers to join him.

I sit quietly in the back seat of a yellow taxi, driving though the street, the streetlights shining into my eyes as I gaze out the window.

The driver, in an attempt to create small talk, asks me, "So what brings you to Leesburg?" he takes a glance back to me before quickly turning his eyes back onto the road.

I take a breath and simply tell him, "Just meeting some friends."

He nods, trying to shake away the awkward atmosphere around the car. He tries to think of some ways to start a conversation but nothing comes to mind. Taking a glance at the upcoming intersection, he gives a sigh of relief before stopping along the curb. "Here we are, The King's Court Pub. That'll be 40 dollars and 76."

I grab my solid guitar case, the sounds of metalic objects moving around inside hint that there wasn't a guitar in there. I sling the case over my shoulder and as I exit the taxi, I give the driver a 50 dollar note. "Keep the change." I say to him and he gratefully takes the note, waving me off as I close the door and he disappears into the night.

I sigh as I notice what time it is, 7:24 PM, I'm a few minutes early. I decide to wait inside by the front door and wait for any other faction members to come.

I walk in and a waitress greets me "Hi there, hon, welcome to the King's Court pub. How can I help you?" she asks with a smile on her face.

I answer her back, "I'm here to meet someone, he's about 52 and goes by the name Jack." I take a glance around the pub.

The woman takes some time to think back, "Oh yeah, there's a man like that who just came in an hour ago, he's sitting at the back with a few other guys. Do you want me to take you to them?" She asks me as she points all the way to the back wall.

I shake my head and give her a "no thanks" gesture with my hand, waving it side to side slightly with my head. "No, not yet. I feel like sitting down by myself for a while." I look over to a small empty table right next to me, perfect spot by the entrance. I point to it and ask her, Do you mind if I take this table?" She gives me a "go ahead" gesture and I sit down. She gives me a menu and a glass of water and goes off to attend to other patrons.

I take a sip of water and glance at the menu, "Hmm, the potato wedges look pretty nice." I say to myself as I look out the window, resting my elbow on the table and holding my head up.

Mira Holmes, already within the King's court pub Leesburg Virginia, asked to meet the painter named "Jack", she walked around, looked around, and even spoke with few, though she ignored the stings of smokes from the cigarettes, purely due to her dislike for them.

She walked forward towards Jack once she saw him, and then saw him hinting to take a seat on the round table after he himself did so.

Mira calmly walked to the table, sitting down, thinking whether she should even order something.

As Lex drank his beer slowly, he quietly observed the other members of the faction. He heard the door opened as Liam walks in. Lex does not care much about the other members of the faction but if there was a guy in the faction he liked, that would be Liam. Liam was a guy that follows orders straight to each and every word of it, no questions asked.

Lex greeted him lightly with a nod and passed him a glass of beer as he looked at the menu.

"Try it. It's decent at least."

Then, he went silent again as he drank some more beer and stared out the window but listening intently on all the conversation.

I was walking down the street, skipping merrily as I hummed a special tune. It was pleasant out tonight, and I had just got done window shopping at the local "specialty" store. I bought a special pair of cat ears there, and was wearing them. I skipped down the street, and end up swinging around one of the street light poles as I got nearer to my destination. To everyone, I looked like a drunken girl that was on her way to another bar. But to those that knew me, I was always like this.

I wandered into the pub, with a big smile on my face. I walked over to the bartender, and asked for a guy named Jack, in his late fifties, and at the same time, I ordered a pint of Scottish Scone Ale, knowing full well that I wouldn't be able to hold my liquor. The bartender kindly points me to the right table after I hand him a one hundred dollar bill, and get my drink.

I nonchalantly walk over to the table, and pull up a chair to the table, and set my pint down on the table, and plop down into the chair.

"Yoho. How is everyone tonight?", I ask as I take a swig of my ale.

Its been a while, I take a look at my watch, 7:24 PM. . . .

The only word I can think in my head at the moment was "Shit"

"Note to self, buy a new battery for my watch." I say to myself as I stand from my table, give an appreciative nod to the waitress who served me and made my way to the round table at the back.

I take a look around the table, I recognised a few of the faces. I turn and look to Jack who greets me and offers me a seat. I silently nod and take a seat, waiting for any comments about me being late.

Jack smiles as he looks around. "Looks like we've got the brass here" he says chucking and takes a swig of his beer. The same cheap beer that everyone saw him drinking in the old HQ and at whatever little officer's meeting he held in his studio apartment less than a block away. He lowered the bottle back to the table and fiddled sound in his pocket eventually producing a key. He slid it across the table with no specific recipient to take it. Nonchalantly he nods to the kitchen door and says "bathroom is to the right." Everyone who remembers Jon's last letter knew that that meant to go out the back through the kitchen and enter the second door on the right. Knowing he needed to maintain a presence at the bar he bought rounds fir anyone who seemed to hesitate, move around or fidget suspiciously.

Name:Anthony Krissom
Occupation before the faction: Newspaper Editor
Weapon of choice: "The truth"
Sidearm: Sig Sauer P226
Typical clothing: Though long out of a job, he hasn't shed the trappings of an ingrained dress code. Usually wears a dress shirt, slacks, and vest.
Appearance: Stands at six feet flat and sports a slim frame. His black hair has already begun to gray, giving him a salt and pepper flecking throughout.
Role within the faction: "Morale Officer"
Additional skills: Years of working in a small-scale paper meant Anthony regularly getting his hands dirty with the printing press and thus learning a slight degree of mechanical aptitude.
Interesting fact: Though his vision needs correction, it is to such a small degree that he stubbornly doesn't wear glasses. This sometimes leads to typos in his reports.
Bio: Despite a promising high school soccer career, Anthony opted for a job in journalism--a job to which he was much less naturally inclined. Since first being hired at his hometown's paper, he has bounced around the eastern seaboard. Before quitting in protest of the American Freedoms Act he worked as an editor for the New York Times.

Darren walked up to the entrance of The King's Court Pub, ignoring the waitress greeting him as he took off his headphones. He glanced around, before noticing the group at the back wall of the pub, making his way there.

He waved awkwardly, before clearing his throat and announcing, "Sorry I'm late, guys. There was ... a bit of a delay."

Jack smiles and raises his bottle to him to greet him.

((OOC: @Jericho please pm Yukito-kun for permission before you post your role as Morale Officer. All officers require permission from Yukito-kun.))

As Jack said the "signal", Lex slowly got off his seat and proceeded to the appointed location. He did not like the place but it was John's orders and thus he just promptly followed.

He was one of the first to enter the back alley and he entered the room after knocking rhythmically on the door as the password. As he entered the room room, he stood in one of the corners of the room ignoring most of the members but still listening intently on any sounds while examining the key that was given to him earlier.

I looked around the room from my spot near the entrance, it was quite ordinary, not a place you'd imagine was the headquarters for a resistance group. It was good, I nodded to myself in approval before walking towards an empty desk, placing my guitar case on it, the sounds of its contents jingling around could be heard through the whole room.

I grabbed a chair and sat down by the table, sighing as I stared blankly at the ceiling

You notice that the room is empty but has something strange about it. It was out of place and quiet, but through the seemingly solid concrete floor you hear the light murmurs of conversation occurring below and can vaguely hear the sound of a typewriter, Jon's signature piece of equipment. The tapping rhythm was almost always a combatant at every Faction base that Jon was supposedly at, but that and the empty bottles of scotch found lined up neatly outside of whatever heavy door Jon was supposedly behind.

Lex gives a faint smile as he heard the familiar sound of the typewriter. He did not move from his place but merely listened to the sound.

I could hear the constant tapping of a typewriter the floor below us. It was quite soothing, like a sort of security blanket of some sort. Though soothing as it may be, it gets a bit repetitive after a while. I looked around the room from my seat, giving a nod to Lex as I scanned past and then reached for my laptop bag I had slung over my right shoulder.

Setting my laptop next to my guitar case, I booted it up and typed my password in a quick flash, pressing each consecutive key in quick succession. The laptop signed in and as usual, played my customised load-up sound. "Reporting for duty, Sniper Ling."

I smirk as I start up the internet browser which opens up to the homepage of a forum I regularly go to. I take a look at my messages, 12 seperate messages. Looks like its gonna be a quiet night, I start typing up on my keyboard, writing back to the messages enquiring me about various topics.

((OOC: I think that might be it for me tonight))

Darren followed the group into the room and gave it a once-over, before displaying an unimpressed expression on his face. He walked over to the table and pulled up a chair next to Ling, slouching over on the table, putting on his headphones and listening to music while waiting for the rest to arrive.