Steam Name: RapidJuice
Steam ID: STEAM_0:1:16941386
Character Name: Stephen Kane
Reason for the switch: I want my character back in the city since he is my main character and plan to get Gold Membership with him, no offence but Outlands isn't great for buzzing activity. Plus, I had no idea the ramifications of my actions and made the switch out of anger for something which happened to me in my personal life. I understand now the consequences of my actions, and just want to be able to play with my favourite character again on my favourite server. Safe to say if this one doesn't get accepted, the Super Admins will be reading a similar story of longer length next week, then the next, then the next.
If required, write a detailed backstory on how your character left the outlands:
After spending a week in the Outlands, with no friends, no food or water in close supply which wasn't tainted by sewer water or different chemicals, he knew he needed to make a move back to where he came from. Since he was in most cases "Armed to the teeth", he understood that his journey would be much smoother with his Shotgun "Isabella" and 9 Millimetre "Zoey" by his side. He stripped himself, leaving out his equipment while he took a long hard soak in the water which looked cleanest of the most, leaving his briefs on ofcourse. After the short bathe, he looked over his equipment, stripped down the bulletproof Kevlar he had came to know and love. It hardly resembled kevlar anymore, much lighter, but with a space to hold "Isabella" for the time being. He tucked his 9 Millimetre into his trousers, safety ON so there would be no fatal genital mutilation!
He slipped down a small dark walkway, flicking on "Isabella's" frontal torch. After navigating through some of the sewer area, without even a peep of Resistance or Combine activity, he thought he was going in the wrong direction. Until, out of nowhere, an engine began to roar at the opposite end of the tunnel. He hid to the side, finding a small crevice to hide in. It was jagged, metal and rock ripped the side of his uniform, splitting most of the buttons, revealing his bare chest for the world to see. He sighed, digging himself into the crevice and trying to peice together the tattered clothing he held dear. Alas, the engine stopped, being of whatever he could assume to be some kind of patrol, either by Resistance or Civil Protection, he didn't like either. He continued through the tunnel, stepping through what he hoped to be mud, his nose already numb to the smell of the 'Great Outdoors'.
Upon reaching the exit of the tunnel, he looked around. The light shon, hurting his eyes, he squinted, then continued to scan the area. He looked to the right, seeing two depressed looking citizens sulking near a buggy. One had a bandaged arm, a African American male, the other Causasian. The Afro-American's arm was bandaged, looking bent out of shape. As he approched, the Caucasian took notice of the weapons, picking up a nearby pipe and raising it, shaking. He held his arms up, his left higher than right, since the other is closest to his holster. He showed he meant them no harm, the man drew near with a ridiculous intelligable swagger, the pipe still in his hand. He knew he wasn't going to use it, and so did he.
"Are you.. you Resistance or anti-civvie..?" The man asked, while his other friend nurtured his arm.
"I'm friendly." Kane replied.
The man returned a solemn nod, pointing towards the vehicle with his pipe.
"It's not very good in the engine department.. only I can drive, and he's no good at pushing."
Kane returned a shallow nod, knowing what would come next.
After what seemed 10 minutes, he was position behind the buggy, pushing it with all his might as it accelerated into the distance. The engine began, he hopped on, knowing his weight wouldn't cause too much of a fuss. Kane spoke loudly to cover the noise of the roaring engine.
"Mind dropping me off?"
"Sure, where to?"
"The City's outskirts."
"Are you fucking mad?!"
"Shut up and drive."
They dropped him off near a little broken-up underground entrance. He began to crawl through the catacombs of the various urban structures, most of it completely dark. He ducked a helicopter patrol which hovered overhead as he moved through, ducking down and covering himself in a nearby wooden slate, it didn't see him. After around three hours worth of tramping around the shoddy landscape, he entered what seemed to be, a passage into the city, even to the untrained eye.
He ducked, entering the warehouses and urban areas. He scanned everywhere for movement, poking his head around every corner. Civil Protection were somewhere, but not where he was, luckily for him. He crossed a wide-spanning street, completely out in the open, it was beginning to get dark, anyway. He hoped the shroud of night would assist him, although cursed it for making his path more hard to follow. He continued, bringing up pace as the darkness began to cover most of the area, nobody was around apart from him in the abandoned and deserted places which used to be filled with human life. As he continued on his path, he could see the city, or what he hoped was the Nexus, it looked like it anyway. Around a mile to run, he could hear no sound, be it helicopter or Civil Protection activity, the silence was deafening. As he grew cold, he huddled into corner, pointing his 9 Millimetre at the door which he shut and locked. He fell asleep with the light on, waking up the next day at approximately 6:30 AM. He walked over to a nearby shard of mirror, picked it up off the ground and began to look at what he had become.
It was true what they say, getting back into the city is much harder than getting out, there's no goals other than "run". His face, predominantly smeared with dirt, his shirt torn and ragged. A beard spanning from one ear to the other, like some kind of homeless - which he was. His lips moistureless, his eyes jaded and silver. He threw the shard away to the opposite end of the room, opening the door regardless of his less-than handsome looks. He kept walking, although at this time heard nearby patrols, probably far from where he was, but the sound of it still intimidated him. He crossed another back alley, kicking some debris away from a cracked and thinly plastered wall. Continuing, he ran to the end of a large hallway, the entire place, which looked like an apartment complex, deserted again. He ran to the end, fidgeting with a door handle, which was locked. He let out a hollow grunt, listening on the other side for activity, hearing none, he took a step back. He kicked the door once, which made it shimmy on it's sides, causing minor cracks in the woodwork around the handle. He decided to use his arm this time, heading into a rugby tackle and shoulder-barging the door with all the force and strength he had left. It opened.
On the other end of the door, there was a small peice of left-over tiling, then a large drop. Looking under-construction, he instantly fell and plummeted from the end of the precipice into a large watery valley. Completely flooded, he landed face first in the water, weeds and moss covering his entire body, tangling him in the waterwork. He quickly resurfaced, looking at his surroundings. Luckily, his weapons were drained before they had any time to damage them. He kept wading through the water until he reached a rusty old ladder. He climbed it instinctively, making his way into a poorly-lit trainyard. He looked above, peeking around a corner at around 4 or 5 Civil Protection members surveying two different yards. He took a step back, looking around, when he saw a man in the distance, almost looking in exactly the same situation as him. He signalled over to him as he looked, making out the message "Don't go in!", but he gave him a shake of the head and sprinted into the area. As he peeked back around, worrying of the man's fate, he noticed the members of the Squad opening fire on the trains and walkways below, which he regretted to find as a chance to run.
He ran through the trainyard, dodging the odd signpost and ducking under the trains which he could get under. He continued to sprint until he reached the end. A little hallway, almost shrouded in complete darkness, he ran through and down a couple of stairs, out of an emergency fire door, next to some mangled bicycles and a dead plant. As he went through, taking a short peek at all of the various landscaping and architecture, it looked like he was home. He could smell the odd fuel aura which came from Combine factories and vehicles. He was in City 45 again, or close anyway.
Garry's Mod
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