I've used like twenty people so far in mine illegally, some of them twice now. It's not only a newb thing. The best thing to do is post a disclaimer that is incredibly good at covering all the bases.
The best thing is actually to be like me and never write a story!
Give it time laddie boyo, most people here give in.
-last edited on Jun 21, 2018 22:10:04 GMT by Mike16Ike19: Trying harder
Post by Mike16Ike19 on Jun 21, 2018 22:04:40 GMT
Level : Multiple Prisoner: Nexo81 8:05 a.m. Nexo81 slunk down toward the secure basement. He had run into minor resistance, but had been relying mainly on stealthy movements and covert take downs while traveling. Mostly though, he had been concentrating on the thoughts raging through his mind. Foremost in his thoughts were questions like,"Why am I doing this? Where did that metal disk go? Why am I sneaking, presumably, deeper into the Institution? Why does this cloak and dagger stuff seem familiar, even natural?" He made it down to the generator's floor with no fatalities, and minimal physical conflict. Swiping his key card through the reader he proceeded into the generator bay with the typical pomp and circumstance that accompanies an armed max-security prison break. Making his way through the throng of screaming engineers and technicians, he quickly selected a handful of tools. About 5 minutes later he started wondering why making a mess of the generator(and back-up generator) was also like second nature. "It's just like the key card, tactical maneuvers, speaking, eating, basic and advanced motor skills, and my workout regiment... are they all instinct... muscle memory?" After seriously, perhaps permanently, damaging the power supply in 8 minutes. Nexo crossed the basement, he shot the lock off the crash-bar, and ran into the fire stairwell to make good his escape. He encountered a security detail, and was forced to empty half his clip. Standing on the landing, gun still smoking, he looked up and saw Level 3: Sub-level 2 painted on in bold letters on the wall. The reinforced door had been blown off its hinges. There were also light footsteps racing up the stairs above him. "Cogger?" Nexo charged up the stairs after the receding footfalls.
After 4 flights of stairs had flown by, Nexo realized he and the Mystery Operative were literally evenly matched for speed and endurance. So evenly that if the Operative hadn't caught his foot on a step and fallen, Nexo doubted he could have closed the gap on him. Nexo81 jumped onto landing, and leveled his P22 at the man now lying prone on the stairs. The Operative rolled like lightning to his back, and catapulted to his feet, landing evenly on the step. His blue eyes swept up and down Nexo81. Lashing his out to kick the P22, he launched Nexo's right hand into the wall so hard the P22 discharged, and dropped from his grasp. Nexo's felt a dull, split-second buzz of pain all the way to his shoulder. His bones seemed to be vibrating, until his arm went numb from the wrist to the elbow. He looked up, and into the the barrel of his newly repossessed P22. "Did they send you to smash me!?," demanded Boomer2K.
Level : Stairwell between Sub-levels 2 and 1 Prisoners: Nexo81, Boomer2K 8:50 a.m. Nexo81 stared across 4 ft(1.2192024 m) of nigh empty space to Boomer2K's eyes. "Guten Tag," Nexo said in German. "I reassert my question." "I thought the Institute sent you to smash me." "You mean you don't work for them?" "What, me...no, no I'm a inmate!" "Join the club. How did you get out?" "Swiped a key card. You?" "Same." Just then the two inmates heard the thudding of heavy boots coming into earshot. In a mirror-movement both of them dashed up the steps toward the the landing for Sub-level 1. Reaching the landing Boomer threw the P22 to Nexo. Nexo ran up another few steps and then squeezed off a few cover rounds to try to halt the advance of what he assumed was security. A wave of heat and pressure from behind smacked Nexo to the floor. He felt Boomer2K pulling him to his feet, his hands almost painfully warm, and half dragging to the door on the landing. "Sorry it gets harder To control under a strain." "I'll live. The P22's empty. I pulled the last round before I got bowled over." "Sorry" "I said no problem. But those blokes from the stairwell are going to know just where we are, and we aren't equipped for a drawn-out firefight. Any ideas?" "Actually, yeah. We could open that." he gestured to a large enclosed box. "Um, anything could be in there." "Almost any thing is better than the nothing we have now. We don't have all the time in the world to discus this, open it or no?" Metal projectiles lanced out of the door they had just progressed through. They dove for any cover they could grab. "Boomer?" "They just grazed me. I'm not bad off." "This box is already open." And then the dim glow let off by the safety lights began to flicker. "Is this like the floor where they lock up the haunted houses that are too scary." "I don't know, but I liked the stairs better. Let's get out of here." Just as they got up, and started to edged there way to the door, thing started floating and firearms started discharging....CONt
Like a noob ![[fp]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/FlzjtkKuxHFGotrSEITs.png)
)
Thank you, Sir.
Thank you, Sir.![[nerd]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/CCtiBbSMRtImQAQydMtT.png)
*Pulls up list of all people ever referred to as "Sir"*... 
Wait... are we all Boomers then? 
