A Different Kind of Request (F for M)

[AmbrosiaPudding]

I have a different kind of game request. What I will present to you is an opening to a potential game. What I would like, if you are interested, is for you to pm me with your response. To said opening post. If you have questions, I might answer them if it's about backstory but about the game going forward? I want it to be more organic. The story twists and turns how we make it mold it together.

I must impress on you that this won't be an easy story to carve out with me. I want a partner with some dedication. Who isn't afraid of slightly supernatural twists in a modern story. Someone who also doesn't flinch at multi-paragraph posts. Now, if you've kept reading this far, I'm sure you'll want to see my 'opening post'.

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

The air stung as it hit her lungs like piercing ice. God how long had she been running? Did it matter how long she had been running? At best, if her calculations had been correct she had about fourteen hours on whoever they sent after her. That was if they didn’t send Jason or Michael they were on the lower rung of Reaps. Gabriel and Leon didn’t even cross her mind. They wouldn’t send either of those two. She wasn’t that much of a problem that they would send a goddamn Reap after her, was she? Dahlia wasn’t sure.

Leaning against the cold, wet, stone beneath her back, the now dark haired woman tried to catch her breath. Even at the peak of physical fitness, she still felt fatigue after three days of panicked, stressed and infrequent sleep coupled with miles of running and dodging. The first twenty-four hours had been hell, she hadn’t stopped moving once. A stolen box of hair dye, new clothes, and two hundred dollars had helped though not enough. The dyed black hair made her look a little foreign but it didn’t change her scent.

The burn in her lungs lessened but Dahlia knew she couldn’t afford to stop for long. She had only received two of the five standard implants for a Napper before they fully explain to her what she would be doing. Kidnapping fucking babies. That meant, Jesus fuck it had taken her breath away. Her parents, friends, neighbors, her brother? It was all a lie. Everyone under the age of fifty had been. How had he put it? Either donated or acquired. Humans, they were fucking sick.

Three minutes, already her green eyes looked more alive. Aside from the two years of rigorous cardiovascular training, gymnastics, and self weight training, one of Dahlia’s implants was a third adrenal gland located at the base of her neck. The second serving a more mental enhancement. A chip in her brain. Dahlia didn’t understand it completely, from what she understood it had almost doubled her logic and reasoning skills to be unaffected by emotions, enabling her to make cold decisions and choose the right children. Though that hadn’t been the case with Dahlia. They had overlooked her enlarged pituitary gland and she had escaped the Institute. They would want her back, she knew it. She knew too much and with the tracking implant in her calf, she had seen it in her x-rays, they would find her.

“Fuck.” The rain had begun. The could had been threatening it for hours. Crouched behind a foul smelling dumpster in a dark alleyway, no one heard the young woman’s cry of pain as she cut into her calf then pushed two fingers into the pale flesh, ripping the tracker out. If they sent a Reap after her it wouldn’t matter for long. They were all but superhuman in their senses. Dahlia might be faster, more lithe, and with a higher endurance but Reaps had one job. Search and retrieve. Occasionally, destroy, just in case anyone had the gall to do what Dahlia had. Though she wasn’t the first. No, Daniel had been the first, and the second.

The Institute, Zion, a closed off canyon of a place where a few hundred people lived in hopes of perfecting society. Though the younger generation knew not of the outside world. The older ones kept it a secret, after all they hadn’t wanted to be a part of the public society. Dahlia was positive her ‘Grandparents’ had been of those who volunteered for the little experiment.

“Fucking tests.” Dahlia growled tying off the wound in her leg before pulling her stolen jeans back down. Pulling her hood up, Dahlia cuddled into the dumpster lid and the wall, shielding most of herself from the rain. She needed time to rest before moving again. “Fucking Daniel.” He had pushed her, made her smarter, made her ace the tests because he knew. Knew that when she discovered the truth she would leave the Institute as well. He was dead for all she knew and she had pointlessly left. Left everything she knew with a hole in her leg, exhausted, and cuddled next to rotten smelling metal, while being chased for her life.

“Fucking Daniel.”