((Okay--just as a brain excercise, does anyone have a character type they think I absolutely cannot RP? (If you say "Krauser" I will cry.) ))

((Background, Umbrella laboratory scenario; obviously. Warnings include: dark. Mentions of violence. Dur.))

It's a system, and it works like this.( Read more... )

It's before anyone's brain is well and truly broken. Krauser is in his room, trying to read a book ( Read more... )

His best friend--closest friend besides Joanie, who's been quiet for a while, keeping to herself--was attacked by a Magog. And hurt. That could have happened, and could happen again, at any time. Krauser's not really that bothered by it. They're both soldiers. Blood and pain and scars are just part of the job ( Read more... )

The Council didn't go well for him. Between a girl trying to blackmail him into going along with her, and both his friends just being annoyed at some of what he had to say--well. It's time for a man/weapon/whatever he is to go off by himself and murder the air for a while ( Read more... )

((Random fic!))

It's one of the most inhospitable regions of the world. There's a hidden information relay at the top of the mountain, tucked away in the icy heights of some of the world's highest, steepest mountains. They'll finish the climb tomorrow.

( Read more... )

There is alcohol.

There is enough to get three people under the table, even if two have very good constitutions.

There were two invites given out.

There's a bioweapon hanging out in his room, waiting for company.

There is, indeed, alcohol.

Stop in?

"-That's not going to do."He hears the voice, a scholar's voice, replay startled in his head. He can't leave it. Combat has always been a reset button for him, a return to what he was best at. Now Umbrella is with him as he travels, a lone figure in an almost entirely dead city. He starts out walking his patrols, veering away from the apartments ( Read more... )

The knife is buried in the wall.

Krauser is leaning against the opposite wall, head in his folded arms. The plaga is dead silent. It doesn't know what to make of what's going on in his head.

Neither does he.

( Insanity is supposed to make things simpler. . . )

Krauser's got no idea why anyone in their right minds would want to follow him. He's just out for practice ( Read more... )

Okay--something is wrong.

Very wrong.

Krauser is on the fifth floor, leaning against a wall, opening and closing one hand repeatedly, breathing shallowly and shaking--

--no, twitching.

He slams his other hand against the wall and starts sliding down to the floor.

He's not a happy man.