Malbutorius
C'est le bien qui fait mal
Ah, nevermind then.
Seras Quest - Chronicles of a Policegirl
- Thread starter Mecrazyfang
- Start date
Last edited:
Seras the ??? Slayer
[x] Marksmanship. You need to get used to larger calibers.
Looking back on the whole mess, you realize just how far in over your head you are. Things darker than the blackest night lurk, secrets that could shake reality are whispered behind closed doors, and somehow, despite the weight of this knowledge, some men and women can live lives as normal as yours was...
You're lost. Terrified. Helpless.
And that's why you became a cop in the first place. Not because you wanted revenge.
You signed up, to take control of your life. To get a sense of stability. So you, and every other little girl, wouldn't have to sit in that closet.
BANG
You've never been that accurate with rifles. Your chest always got in the way...Anything you couldn't hold in just one hand, was pretty much out of the question.
FOOOSH!
Except...Well...Things that most people can't usually use too well.
Grenade launchers, flame throwers, chainguns...You have no clue why your department was able to get them on loan, but...
Oh.
So, someone has been keeping an eye on you, then. Why else would a police department have access to military-grade weaponry, on loan, for training purposes?
Eh. Whatever the cause, you've had practice with the 'big guns'. If you can physically carry it - or have some way to hold it in place - you can clip an angel's wings at two hundred yards.
Third year's cook-off. Heh, I won that with a flamethrower!
Surprisingly, Hellsing Manor has several Heavy Weapons ranges. There's a series of barbecuing domes set at various ranges and heights on one...
Simon was runner-up, juggling cast-iron skillets full of sausage. Eddie placed last, with burnt toast.
A forest, to be cleared by chaingun fire. Confetti-filled buckets for a grenade launcher. You're pretty sure they even have an artillery range, further out - but your ears inform you it's currently in use.
You take turns on all of them, focusing more on the 'reload' part than aiming.
+5 to Heavy Weapons
You then try your hand at various assault and battle rifles.
Two hours pass, and you're surprised your breasts haven't rattled right off. It's...
"May I assist you in some way, Miss Victoria?"
Bloody hell! Where did he-
"Oh, um, hello sir."
"I don't believe we've been properly introduced yet. I am Walter C. Dornez, butler to the Hellsing family."
"Ah. Hello, mister Dornez. I'm...Well, you already know who I am."
"Indeed." he takes a moment to observe the targets downrange. "It appears that you are having, difficulties, with automatic weaponry."
You blush. "...Yeah..."
"And what might the cause be? Why don't you show me?"
With a resigned sigh, you depress the trigger in a few short bursts, somehow keeping them within about a foot of one another this time.
+7 to Automatics
"Oh dear. That is an, unusual, problem..."
"Hey, Walter. I heard you griping over the roar of these friggin sweet new canons. What's up?" Alucard drifts through the wall. "Oh. Bazongas too big to handle the longer, thick rods? Well, that's kinda disappointing..."
Face alight with embarrassment, you retort without thinking "Tell that to the forest I just leveled with a chaingun!"
There is a moment of silence, laden with so much dawning horror you begin drafting a new Cthulu Mythos of mortification, mercifully broken up by the intercom.
"Policegirl. Report to my office." Sir Integra saves the day.
Bless you, Sir. I won't forget this.
You dash off without a word, arriving in Sir Integra's office not forty minutes later.
Integra, perched behind her desk, quirks an eyebrow upon your entry.
"Reporting as ordered, Sir!"
She sighs. "Do I want to know what drove you to Bless me?"
"Sir?"
"Directly following my summons over the intercom, I was enveloped in a solid white light, which lasted a full seven seconds, and prevented what I'm sure was a devious assassination attempt." Integra holds up a wooden splinter. "Though I suppose I need to get a new desk, now."
You don't really have anything to say about that, so you wait for her to continue.
"The reason I called you up here, is to determine your training assignment." Sir Integra puffs on her cigar. "There are four placements suitable to a new recruit. Your decision here, will affect which missions I can send you on in the immediate future."
You decide to take...
[] The Irish job. Local prices of gold are going funny.
[] The American job. Some strange new street drug is having very suspicious effects.
[] The Russian job. Temperatures aren't what they should be, this time of year.
[] A local posting. Several officers are acting very strangely.
This vote doesn't lock out jobs from other sources, but makes similar ones much more common. If you're trained in vampire slaying, you'll be up against a lot of blood-suckers, for example, until you've trained to deal with other things, and been certified as capable.
Looking back on the whole mess, you realize just how far in over your head you are. Things darker than the blackest night lurk, secrets that could shake reality are whispered behind closed doors, and somehow, despite the weight of this knowledge, some men and women can live lives as normal as yours was...
You're lost. Terrified. Helpless.
And that's why you became a cop in the first place. Not because you wanted revenge.
You signed up, to take control of your life. To get a sense of stability. So you, and every other little girl, wouldn't have to sit in that closet.
BANG
You've never been that accurate with rifles. Your chest always got in the way...Anything you couldn't hold in just one hand, was pretty much out of the question.
FOOOSH!
Except...Well...Things that most people can't usually use too well.
Grenade launchers, flame throwers, chainguns...You have no clue why your department was able to get them on loan, but...
Oh.
So, someone has been keeping an eye on you, then. Why else would a police department have access to military-grade weaponry, on loan, for training purposes?
Eh. Whatever the cause, you've had practice with the 'big guns'. If you can physically carry it - or have some way to hold it in place - you can clip an angel's wings at two hundred yards.
Third year's cook-off. Heh, I won that with a flamethrower!
Surprisingly, Hellsing Manor has several Heavy Weapons ranges. There's a series of barbecuing domes set at various ranges and heights on one...
Simon was runner-up, juggling cast-iron skillets full of sausage. Eddie placed last, with burnt toast.
A forest, to be cleared by chaingun fire. Confetti-filled buckets for a grenade launcher. You're pretty sure they even have an artillery range, further out - but your ears inform you it's currently in use.
You take turns on all of them, focusing more on the 'reload' part than aiming.
+5 to Heavy Weapons
You then try your hand at various assault and battle rifles.
Two hours pass, and you're surprised your breasts haven't rattled right off. It's...
"May I assist you in some way, Miss Victoria?"
Bloody hell! Where did he-
"Oh, um, hello sir."
"I don't believe we've been properly introduced yet. I am Walter C. Dornez, butler to the Hellsing family."
"Ah. Hello, mister Dornez. I'm...Well, you already know who I am."
"Indeed." he takes a moment to observe the targets downrange. "It appears that you are having, difficulties, with automatic weaponry."
You blush. "...Yeah..."
"And what might the cause be? Why don't you show me?"
With a resigned sigh, you depress the trigger in a few short bursts, somehow keeping them within about a foot of one another this time.
+7 to Automatics
"Oh dear. That is an, unusual, problem..."
"Hey, Walter. I heard you griping over the roar of these friggin sweet new canons. What's up?" Alucard drifts through the wall. "Oh. Bazongas too big to handle the longer, thick rods? Well, that's kinda disappointing..."
Face alight with embarrassment, you retort without thinking "Tell that to the forest I just leveled with a chaingun!"
There is a moment of silence, laden with so much dawning horror you begin drafting a new Cthulu Mythos of mortification, mercifully broken up by the intercom.
"Policegirl. Report to my office." Sir Integra saves the day.
Bless you, Sir. I won't forget this.
You dash off without a word, arriving in Sir Integra's office not forty minutes later.
Integra, perched behind her desk, quirks an eyebrow upon your entry.
"Reporting as ordered, Sir!"
She sighs. "Do I want to know what drove you to Bless me?"
"Sir?"
"Directly following my summons over the intercom, I was enveloped in a solid white light, which lasted a full seven seconds, and prevented what I'm sure was a devious assassination attempt." Integra holds up a wooden splinter. "Though I suppose I need to get a new desk, now."
You don't really have anything to say about that, so you wait for her to continue.
"The reason I called you up here, is to determine your training assignment." Sir Integra puffs on her cigar. "There are four placements suitable to a new recruit. Your decision here, will affect which missions I can send you on in the immediate future."
You decide to take...
[] The Irish job. Local prices of gold are going funny.
[] The American job. Some strange new street drug is having very suspicious effects.
[] The Russian job. Temperatures aren't what they should be, this time of year.
[] A local posting. Several officers are acting very strangely.
This vote doesn't lock out jobs from other sources, but makes similar ones much more common. If you're trained in vampire slaying, you'll be up against a lot of blood-suckers, for example, until you've trained to deal with other things, and been certified as capable.
Last edited:
- Location
- The Usual Room
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] The Irish job. Local prices of gold are going funny.
*Cue up some Dropkick Murphys*
*Cue up some Dropkick Murphys*
Daniella_c2
Commie Ice fairy
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] The Irish job. Local prices of gold are going funny.
[X] A local posting. Several officers are acting very strangely.
We obviously care more for our homeland and will feel motivated to defend it that much more.
We obviously care more for our homeland and will feel motivated to defend it that much more.
Note. You will be attached to a Hellsing-affiliated unit in the area. Not anyone you know - unless they've also somehow been drafted into Hellsing.
Like Eddie. They still won't tell you what's going on with him.
Like Eddie. They still won't tell you what's going on with him.
I hope he's still alive. He was the second most sane and competent person here.
- Location
- California, USA
[X] The Irish job. Local prices of gold are going funny.
I want my pot of gold, dammit.
I want my pot of gold, dammit.
Do I need to get my crossover senses checked? Because something is twigging in the back of my skull.
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Local Posting. We know the area and possibly the officers.
- Location
- .
[X] The Russian job. Temperatures aren't what they should be, this time of year.
This is why I voted for supernatural recognition.
Though given that this is SV, it's no surprise that moar dakka won out.
Still, Seras wasn't given the rank of Sergeant because of her looks. I'm sure we'll be fine.
- Location
- America
Are you thinking Three Eye?
That was my first thought. But it seemed too simple, I'm sure there are plenty of supernatural drugs and it could be explained away as an in universe thing.
But still my instincts say otherwise.
The Russian option stands out to me as well, it's on the tip of my tongue but I have no idea what it is.
- Location
- ⇙
[X] Local Posting. We know the area and possibly the officers.
Because she can't be arsed to learn Seras name yet and that's kinda her job title.
- Location
- Somewhere
Y'know I think choosing Markmanship is going to backfire on us at some point.
It won't matter how good a shot we are if we can't dodge the supernatural things that are faster and stronger than us.
[X] A local posting. Several officers are acting very strangely.
It won't matter how good a shot we are if we can't dodge the supernatural things that are faster and stronger than us.
[X] A local posting. Several officers are acting very strangely.