Name Jonathan Wayde
Age 28
Gender Male
Race Human with a robotic arm

Personality Jonathan has always been uptight and an insomniac. Not only that, he's always restless in his job with his mind always working like a machine. He doesn't give a damn what people think about him just as long as he gets to finish what he needs to do and would do just about anything to reach his goal. If he needs to kill people along the way, he'll do so. He's not the type to put the blame on other people and is generally, well, kind, which is why he wouldn't ever forgive those who kill for the sake of killing. It was as if he were repenting for what he'd done.

Bio Born from a wealthy family who were one of the many investors that invested in weapons and bombs, Jonathan was expected to be following the footsteps of his parents. Until, of course, they were accidentally killed in a shoot-out. He was eighteen, that time, and was overcome with grief. That grief of his had led him to volunteer for a spot as one of the cyborgs who were used to destroy the enemy. He'd also killed alot of people in the process. Jonathan had only awoken from his grief right after he'd become unconscious during the warfare and right after he'd lost his right arm. The government had replaced it with machine - one he hides in his well-cladded suit. Though thankful to the government, he still couldn't forgive them and is currently finding the reason behind the two serial killers they had easily let go.

Picture Jonathan is usually seen wearing a suit but he occasionally wears something more normal: long-sleeved shirts and jeans. The gloves, though, are never lost.
Occupation Ex-Military, now a Detective
Weapon of choice Guns and his right arm.

Creator: Aeschylus
Name: Clyde Augustine
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Race: Human

Personality: Clyde is sarcastic, bitter, and tends to think by himself a lot. He excels in the realm of mathematics and science. As a civilian, he is often seen as quiet and pensive. His fellow medics and soldiers could describe him as unnervingly blunt and honest. As a convicted murderer, he is seen as a sadist who thoroughly tortured his victims before killing them violently.

Bio: Clyde was born shortly before warfare reached the civilians of Canada. He spent a brief twelve years in peace before his city was completely leveled by bombings. He lost his right eye in the incident and was never quite the same after. At sixteen, he enlisted in the military for active duty but was turned down for disabilities. Begrudgingly, he took up the scalpel and became a field medic. Angered by this rejection and fueled by his thirst for blood, he began to turn his murderous intent towards criminals and those he deemed to be 'scum'. At eighteen, the civilized world as he knew it no longer existed. He was transferred to the last remaining building on the Canadian west coast, where he was convicted of murder and jailed.

Picture: http://i45.tinypic.com/dm72xe.png Clyde usually wore his field medic gear, but after his arrest, he began to wear plain civilian clothing: a long-sleeved black shirt and a pair of jeans with sneakers. (I've lost all the reference pictures I had of him so I drew up something really quick.)
Occupation: Field Medic
Weapon of Choice: Knives, daggers, swords. He can't use long-ranged weapons or projectiles, as he has lame depth perception.

Name: Sallir Rallenv
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Race: Human

Personality: Sallir is obsessed with perfection. If he doesn't get something quite right, he will do it over and over again until he does. He is by no means overly loud, but he will speak his mind regardless of others' emotions.

Bio: Looking for a quick way to earn money as a teenager, he researched lock picking and became a thief. During one of his break-ins, there was an unexpected occurrence which led to him murdering the owner. Intrigued by the feeling, he began to kill more people in the area. However, due to his sloppiness, Sallir eventually became suspect and was caught. Because of this, he became a perfectionist.

Picture:Sallir usually wears a casual suit but will occasionally wear something a bit more snug if he expects to be doing something where loose clothing could be an issue.

Occupation: Thief

Weapon of Choice: Daggers, Revolvers

His shadow grew longer as what little sun filtered in through the skylight. Though he'd been here for five years, he mused, not once had he seen the open sky. It was beautiful - the sky, that is: a brilliant array of red and orange and purple. He wished he could stretch out and just feel the breeze against his fingertips, like he could as a child. Though now there stood two extraordinary obstacles: first, the windows were hermetically sealed (but that was just common knowledge anyways); and second, the two guards that had his arms in their iron grips.

Beyond his thoughts, he noticed they'd gone several floors up. The concrete walls of the containment bay turned into elegantly carpeted walls complete with cream-white panel moldings, and the halls were certainly more well-lit. He was snapped out of his reverie - literally; he lurched forward as the guards stopped abruptly.

The wooden doors gave a slight creak as they opened, and seated at the end of the room was a man who looked no more than forty years old. He motioned and the guards sat Clyde into one of the open seats.

"I have another guest who must be present before I may speak any further," the man said quietly.

He had been pacing in his cell for a few hours now after having heard the guards talking. Apparently there was an order to fetch two inmates and he hoped he was one of them. He would do anything to get out of this place. The walls were filthy and his cell didn't allow any light in from the outside.

He heard a click from the cell door that caused him to look at it instantaneously. As the door opened, he saw four guards. Three had weapons drawn, pointing directly at him, and the other had shackles. He was taken several floors down and through a hall that was drastically different than those he was used to seeing. The guards stopped at a door before opening it and pushing him inside.

In the middle of the room was a fair-sized table. On one end, he saw a younger looking man. On the other end was an older man, but probably not much older than Sallir himself. Sallir was forced into the chair next to the younger one and strapped down.

Clyde sat thrumming his fingers against the arm rest, looking quietly down into his lap. The guards weren't crushing his hands anymore, they now stood by themselves a few meters behind his chair. The creak of the door caught his attention once again, but not for long, since an even larger spectacle succeeded it: another inmate was practically shoved inside.

He frowned as they bound his hands to the chair. 'So I'm not worth the trouble to cuff?' he thought moodily.

The man behind the desk began, "Mr. Augustine and Mr. Rallenv," he had the most condescending look on his face, as though he were talking to dogs; a younger Clyde would have boiled over in anger... but he knew better now, "I'm sorry, I suppose I haven't introduced myself yet. You may call me David, and you could say I am an extremely powerful figure in society today. On that note, do you two know why you are here?"

Clyde glanced at him, then at the inmate, "No. I don't."

As Clyde glanced at him, he couldn't help but be annoyed for some reason.

"I'm not quite sure what it is David, but you should have the guards stop gossiping when doing their rounds. Some important information might leak if you're not careful. I suppose there's nothing wrong with that though." A mischievous grin appeared on his face as he finished his last sentence.

The grin faded as he continued, "Anyways, care to explain what this is all about?" He stared at the, now seemingly irritated, man.

A pair of fingers silently played with the ring on his ring finger of his human hand. Currently, he didn't have a glove on for that certain hand and he was seated on one of the many benches in the building in the west side of Canada. The ground floor was rather full and he couldn't help but find his gaze silently surfing through the throngs of people. His unusual, yellow eyes were sharp as they peered under strands of bright blond hair. People looked at him left and right, but he didn't see them as threatening so he'd let them be.

There were rumors about two serial killers that are supposed to be released today. Why the government was doing that, he was here to find out. They must be out of their minds, he'd thought as he'd taken his glove from his suit pocket and slipped it on. Leaning back onto the bench, he slid his hands down to his knees and looked towards the elevator. This was the only entrance and exit from one of the highest offices the top few floors. The ones down below resembled that of a dungeon that kept the prisoners in their respective places.

Jonathan isn't a well-known detective but he was pretty known to be the cyborg that was merciless in his killings before the warfare had ended. Of course, he's hidden himself by looking like that of a rogue businessman with the fake glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

"Why'd he ask for them?"
"I'm not sure. Must be something important."
"It's crazy. Those two known serial killers..."
"Merciless and heartless bastards?"

The conversation between the two guards was something he'd overheard. He had sharp hearing, apparently, but he made no motion nor mention that he had heard them. Silently, he'd reached up and adjusted his eyeglasses while he listened to the guards speak in low voices. The sun's rays reflected his glasses, obviously hiding his oddly-colored eyes.

Clyde peered blankly at the two. 'They both talk too much.'

David cleared his throat, "Mr. Rallenv, I'm glad you asked. I'm sure you both are familiar with the reasons as to why you were imprisoned. We require your... expertise on a certain matter-"

It didn't take an idiot to piece it all together. "So you want me to murder someone?" Clyde interrupted, "If you knew anything about me, you would know that-"

"Freedom comes at a steep cost, don't you think so?" David said evenly, as though Clyde had never said anything, "If you two take care of some loose ends for us, we could reinstate your medical license. And Mr. Rallenv, all the riches you desire, of course. All you have to do is follow our instructions and do a little work."

"And what happens if I refuse?" Clyde asked.

"Then you go back under."

Could he do it? He had never killed anyone but scum. What if this man asked him to kill the innocent? Clyde grew quiet and the cogs in his head began to turn. 'Why did they pick me? If they wanted an assassin, a number of the prisoners down there would work. Who is Rallenv? I've never even seen him. And there has to be a catch...'

"Sounds fun. If it'll make me rich and get me out of here, I'm all for it. However, surely you don't intend for me to work with this...amateur." His eyes darted over to Clyde.

"Actually, yes, I do. Don't forget that it was you who was being an amateur when you got caught." Sallir became annoyed at this statement. David continued, "Of course, this will all strictly be a verbal agreement. Clearly Mr. Rallenv has agreed, but what about you Mr. Augustine? All you need to do is agree and we'll let you go after giving you your first assignment. There is an elevator just down the hall that will take you back to society. So what will it be?"

He gritted his teeth, 'Amateur...?' Inside, his thoughts produced no answer. Would he sin for the cost of freedom?

Clyde's eyes wandered to the dark sky behind David... and his longing to feel the wind surged up again. Whatever he did then would be put behind him, he reasoned, he would finally be able to wash his memory clean; start up his medical profession again. It was tempting, he admitted; but the god he used prayed to, the god he would kill for... that god was long gone. Perhaps even before the war even started, he laughed bitterly.

"I'll..." the words felt heavy on his tongue, "do it."

David smiled and handed him a plain manila folder, "I'm glad we're on the same page now," and as Clyde reached out to take it, "But you must know that any disobedience at all will induce severe punishment. You... people are disposable, after all. There are plenty of others like you down there."

Clyde only glared back as the guards grabbed him again, presumably leading him the the elevators.

The elections were coming up and he was sure that there would be a lot of lives lost again. Like a war between local natives, he'd thought with disgust as he'd brought up one gloved hand. He seemed to stare at it for a long time before he'd put his hands on his knees to push himself up from the bench. The guards that were talking amongst themselves had stopped and had turned to look at him. They seemed wary of his presence but they also had become lax when he didn't seem at all dangerous. The aura Jonathan gave was rather kind - nothing like that of an aura that a heartless killer would have. Walking over to the window, he'd shoved his hand into his pocket to take out a small box. A small box of sticks. It resembled that of a candy stick, so to speak.

The scientists have created it over time. Something that took care of the nicotine addicts' need. Taking a piece, he'd put it between his mouth and held it with his teeth. He'd silently sucked on it and put his hands back a bit to have it rest on the edge of the window sill that was sealed shut. The air out was dangerous for the people so everyone who're to go out needed a mask. With the number of masks available, only those who can afford one can do so and Jonathan, luckily, was one of them.

If there should be any killings done this year... it should be related to the elections, he'd thought to himself as he'd watched the elevator. So far, no one has yet gone out from it - to join the people in the society.

David slid a manila folder, exactly like the one he had handed Clyde, in front of Sallir. "The same goes for you, I doubt we'll have much of a problem with that though." The guards removed the restraints from Sallir. He stood up and took the folder from the table. He was escorted to the elevator by two guards. One in front, one in back, both were a fair distance away.

He saw the younger man waiting inside the elevator along with the guards who had escorted him. As he reached the elevator, the guards shoved him inside. The doors closed and the elevator started towards its destination.

"I don't know who you are or why they're having me work with you, but don't slow me down. I suppose introductions are at least in order though, Mr. Rallenv is too much of an annoyance. I'm Sallir, and you are?"

'Don't flatter yourself,' he grumbled to himself, 'You couldn't name any main artery in the human body even if you wanted to.'

"Clyde... Clyde Augustine," he smiled awkwardly, "Nice to be working with you, Sallir."

The number on the elevator was at 89 and descending. Exactly what floor were they on?! He turned his attention away from his new partner in crime, and fished around in the folder: a picture with name and address and another white envelope. His face fell as he saw the picture; it was of a man and his family posing at a restaurant of sorts - he didn't look like a criminal at all.

"What do you make of this?" he asked Sallir without looking up from the photo.

"I make of it exactly what they said. He's a loose end that needs to be taken care of. I don't really care what he did or didn't do, I just want my money and freedom." He said this as he thumbed through his own folder.

The elevator continued to descend in silence. After a few minutes, the doors opened and he stepped out. He looked around a bit and smiled. There were many people walking about. The air was filled with the sound of people talking. It was nice to be back in society again, regardless of the reason he was here. However, one person he had noticed stood out more than the rest. A curious man was sitting on a bench directly across from the elevator.

It was strange how two people were the only ones he saw get out from the elevator. Too strange, in fact, that he seemed to recognize their faces. The light from the window blocked the view of people of his yellow eyes that scrutinized the two as he idly played the stick between his teeth. He'd returned back to the bench when the number of people had grew and was currently leaning back, his arm outstretched onto the back of the bench. His other gloved hand was on his leg and he'd tilted his head a little, causing a few strands of blonde hair to fall to one side. Two coming out at the same time and holding a folder... their next victim? he'd thought to himself as he'd used the hand of the arm that was on the bench to get the stick hanging between his lips.

Time to do some investigation on these two. They look suspicious enough. Catching the gaze of one of them, he'd given the man a rather polite smile.

Clyde frowned and tucked everything back into the folder. Once he could clear everything, he'd make sure to pay this Sallir Rallenv a visit.

He rode the rest of the elevator ride in abject silence. Five years of silence, he thought grimly, how well would he be able to blend in with the rest of society?

The elevator finally halted and the door slid open. Clyde almost choked; the sounds... the people, and mostly the colors. There were more people here then he had ever imagined in his cell. He craned his head to look up... no sky. "Right, what was I thinking. The building is a hundred floors," he said under his breath.

Suddenly, Sallir stopped. Clyde walked right into him and fell back with a loud clank, "Hey, woah - what's the hold up, buddy? Geez, watch it. I can't see to my right..." His sentence trailed off as he noticed his partner staring; he followed the line where it landed squarely on... who?

The stranger's golden eyes sent a shudder through his spine. 'God is watching,' floated to mind.

Sallir noticed the man giving him a smile. Sallir turned away only to notice Clyde on the floor muttering to himself. "Get up, we have work to do." He walked off to the right of the building they had just come from. He glanced over his shoulder at the man sitting on the bench and focused his gaze forward once again.

'Some people sure do dress oddly these days', he thought. He wandered around trying to figure out exactly where he was. After all, an address that he doesn't know where it's at does no good.

The shudder from the other caught his attention and he'd moved his gaze towards Clyde. His polite smile had turned to one of amusement as he cracked the stick with his teeth and let the small piece fall to the ground. He'd left what part was in his mouth to melt, like that of candy, as he relished in the taste of nicotine with his system greedily taking the drug. Slowly, ever so slowly, he'd gotten up to his feet. His eyes never broke contact with Clyde's own as he'd approached him. The first man he'd made eye contact with seemed to have left ahead and he idly wondered if this one would follow suit.

"You and your friend seem lost," he'd started, adjusted his glasses lightly with the back of his fingers. The polite facade was only something he'd acquired a couple of months ago and the mask that hid what he truly felt about a year or so with the help of his experiences and the people around him. Even his hatred for the government that used him so and threw him away like a ragged doll.

At a closer inspection, he could, indeed, recognize the face of this serial killer. A man who knew how to use his knives well and to whose body those knives would find themselves into. Clyde Augustine. With his nightmares from the warfare, his robotic arm that reminded him of it, and his sleepless nights, he practically knew every little hobby, likes and dislikes of most serial killers around Canada but what intrigued him were only two. The one who learned to kill with perfection after a series of trial and error and that of the one who was well enough to pass as a medic - one that could be compared to with the legendary Jack the Ripper.

"Perhaps I could help?" he offered, his hand sliding back into his pocket to pull out the box of sticks so he could take another one to have it hang loosely between his lips, yet again. As if not wanting to be rude, he'd held the box out to Clyde, too. "Would you want one, as well?"

At the greeting, Clyde looked up from his complaining. Oh crap.

"No thanks... and we're actually just passing through," he lied and motioned to Sallir. 'Hey, come back here and help me out, you bastard!'

"Thank you for the concern," he said flatly, "You don't look familiar... do you always approach strangers or something?"

From this man's posture and language, Clyde would have suspected he was law enforcement: he held himself with pride and seemed as though he could see right through Clyde. He and Sallir had just left the only entrance to the underground containment facilities, the man must know they're criminals to some extent. He didn't look to be any older than thirty.

Clyde frowned. If what David had said about secrecy, then he probably couldn't reveal his or Sallir's real names.

Sallir continued down the street until he reached an intersection. Stopping suddenly, he turned to see if Clyde had gotten up yet. He noticed the man who had been sitting on the bench was offering Clyde something from a small box. He started back towards the building when Clyde began to speak. He reached the two just as Clyde had finished.

Avoiding the strange man's eyes, he spoke to Clyde.

"What's the matter? Is this person bothering you?" As he asked this, he slouched a little and stared at the oddly yellow eyes of the man. His posture and demeanor was much different than that of Sallir himself.

Jonathan shrugged slightly at the other's reply and shut the box before sliding it back into his pocket. Honestly, he wasn't expecting the male to get one considering he was a stranger who just happened to come to them with a purpose: a purpose to know what they are plotting. The question caught him by surprise and he found himself smiling in amusement. "No," he started as he'd shaken his head, "It's not something I do, really."

Keeping his hands in his pockets, he blinked at Clyde's partner coming up to his side. Listening in on the conversation of the two, he turned to look at Sallir, his features rather composed and his smile of amusement dissipating to be replaced with that of politeness. "I was simply offering a hand," he explained to Sallir in behalf of Clyde, "I don't mean any harm and I'm not one of the law enforcers. I don't do their dirty job." More like he despise doing the job of the law enforcers from the tone he'd used.

Clyde cringed inwardly, 'doing their dirty job'; if that wasn't the mother of all ironies, he didn't know what was.

"Right, thank you," he said, "But we're really in a hurry, so if you don't need anything, we'll be on our way."

He was certainly wary of this man; he was cocky and sure, precisely the way a criminal would hold himself up. Clyde looked him up and down one more time.

If this guy wasn't a criminal, at the least, he was definitely up to no good. In his mind, Clyde instantly categorized him, 'I'll have to find more about him too...' Though, he reprimanded himself quickly: he was only out less than an hour and he was already plotting. With a mindset like this, he thought, he'd get caught fast... just like last time. If he wanted to last longer, he would have to ignore his murderous tendencies.

Though to complete his mental analysis of this stranger, he allowed himself one last indulgence, "Sorry, I didn't catch your name. What was it?"

Sallir stood upright again, "Well, thank you. If you don't mean any harm though, then we really must be going whether you are a law enforcer or not." He turned to go back towards the intersection again when he heard Clyde ask for the man's name. He became a bit frustrated, but spun back around to face the two with a slight smile.

Jonathan could very well see that he wasn't needed. It looked like he'll just have to watch them from afar. Somewhere far away, that was for sure. Nodding at the two of them who seemed to think alike, he was just about to turn away and walk on to give himself and the two some distance when he'd heard Clyde ask for his name. "Jonathan," he said as he smiled again. If he had a hat, he'd have tipped it right about now. "Though, it's not an exactly unique name without its family name, yeah?" Leaving that question hanging, he took the tip of the stick with his fingers and cut it into two while he silently chewed on the short stick hanging between his lips.

"I'll be leaving you two, then."

Looking over at Sallir's impatient look with that forced smile and then at Clyde whom he'd looked at with what seemed to be more than interest, he'd tore his gaze away and brushed past Sallir. Just as he'd gotten to the other side of the intersection, the crowd suddenly got thicker with the walking sign turning red.