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04-13-2015, 01:36 PM | #1 |
Hisstank.Com General
Join Date: May 2009
Location: Los Angeles
Posts: 5,169
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This is my Rebel Angel fan fiction collection of customs. Each one has a story per link below.
http://www.hisstank.com/forum/g-i-jo...lance858a.html My Joeverse summary - 200-300 years in the future, Cobra, a ancient secret society whose list of historic leaders/Cobra Commanders include Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Ghengis Khan, and Hitler, finally succeed in taking over the world through the massive use of nukes. Survivors of that nuclear holocaust find themselves cast into a future dark age under fuedal law with Cobra dominating every aspect of their lives. It's a high tech cyber punk industrial wasteland world. For those who choose not to live as a subject of Cobra, their only choice is to escape into the Badlands, vast areas of nearly uninhabitable wasteland, where they live as outlaws, bandits, pirates, and or freedom fighters. Create your own band of outlaws/freedom fighters/mercenaries/pirates or your own Cobra strike force for this world! You can even have your own Sector, name it Sector WHATEVER YOU WANT, or you can be a Cobra Noble with your own land to rule. Rule it however you want. Create fantastic background stories and post away! Choose your side and let the creative juices flow! More Pics here: https://plus.google.com/photos/10412...01963416970081
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[b]Lance's Customs Public Album:https://photos.google.com/albums My Feedback: http://www.hisstank.com/forum/buy-se...-feedback.html Last edited by lance858a; 04-19-2015 at 12:40 AM.. |
04-13-2015, 01:37 PM | #2 |
Hisstank.Com General
Join Date: May 2009
Location: Los Angeles
Posts: 5,169
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Part 142: The Locust and Tunnel Rat
The day started out just like any other for Chelsey Fairchild. She was taking her daily walk down the main corridor of the central marketplace of the slums just outside Prometheus. It was the largest marketplace to exist outside of Cobra control in the Badlands of Sector 858A. There, just about anything can be bought and sold, anything that is, except dignity; they were fresh out. As she strutted by, the shop owners all lowered their heads out of respect. Not only was she a Tank Buster (local band of powerful mercenaries), she was also the best smuggler in the territory. She was once a famous anti-gravity bike racer until Cobra shut down the races. As a racer, she went by the name Ginger Punk. Now, she uses her skills to pilot the Locust, her old race bike that has been heavily modified with armor and stronger engines, to smuggle high value items in and out of Cobra territory. It was a most profitable venture. Smuggling just a few pounds of precious metals past customs can avoid having to pay a fortune in taxes. So when they saw the Ginger Punk walk by, all the shop owners knew that they were looking at their mafiosi lifeline. Without her services and the protection of the Tank Buster, they would be out of business. And just like any other day, as she walk through the many corridors of the slums, she passed by a school yard. However, to call it a school was a bit of a stretch. It was more like a temporary holding facility funded by the local shop owners to keep the children of the slums from robbing the shops blind during business hours. So just like every other day, as she passed by the school yard, the kids were outside for recess. She sat down across from the yard to watch the kids play. The games they played were always amusing. Because the impoverished school couldn’t supply equipment or games, the ingenious children invented their own games. So she watched as the kids took turns selecting teams one by one and once the teams were formed, they all lined up opposition. She wondered what game they would be playing today. And before she knew it, the kids just started fighting each other. There was nothing else to do. This was a part of her daily entertainment. Most amusing though, was that some of the children would pretend to know some kind of martial arts. Unfortunately for those kids, some of the others really did know martial arts and those kids took offense to the pretenders. And that’s when she noticed him, a little boy that she never saw before. He ran away from the fight and crawled into drainage pipe. She thought to herself, “I wonder where he was headed?” She thought he was a little coward for abandoning his friends. As the rest of the children continued their miniature rumble, she suddenly saw the little coward boy emerge from the other side of the yard from a manhole and run towards a flag pole. It was then that she realized that they weren’t just fighting, they were playing capture the flag. She smiled to herself as the little coward, the smallest of the boys, yanked the enemy flag from the pole and held it triumphantly as he screamed “It’s over! You lose assholes!” As it turned out, the flag was actually his little brown beanie hat. The other kids must have taken it from him. His teammates stood up from being kicked on the ground and rallied around him with their new found vigor as they all chanted what she assumed was his name, “Tunnel Rat! Tunnel Rat! Tunnel Rat!” She shook her head in delight and thought to herself with a quiet smile, “Clever boy.” She still had a few hours to kill before her next smuggling run so she began to think about what she wanted for lunch. This was a luxury in the slums. Most people didn’t have choices for meals. Most people were happy to have a handful of beans. But for Ginger Punk, a successful smuggler, mafiosi, and mercenary, she could afford to eat even chicken for every meal (chickens were rarely eaten because anyone who had chickens kept them alive for the eggs). So why not chicken again she thought. As the shop owner served her her meal, she saw him again, little Tunnel Rat. She wondered why he was still around since recess was over, then she realized, he had nowhere to go, he was homeless. He wasn’t even supposed to be in school. He was just another orphan homeless child in the slums. The child momentarily made eye contact with her but then shy’d away. It was obvious he was hungry as he quietly gazed upon her luxurious meal of chicken and potatoes, but he was too scared, or even embarrassed to ask for food. Clearly, he planned on waiting for her to finish her meal and ask for leftovers. This was the one thing she hated above all else about having to come to the slums for work. It was constant begging for charity from all manner of scum. It was all the homeless, the peasants, the orphans, and especially all the little pickpocket thieving homeless children of the slums. So she rolled her eyes at Tunnel Rat in disgust and thought to herself how the world would be so much better if they all, the masses of diseased ridden homeless, just went somewhere and died. Nonetheless, there was just something about the child. Something in his eyes, they were kind eyes and still somehow innocent. So she decided, just this once, to be charitable. She stood up and walked towards him with her plate of food. He reluctantly looked up at her. By the looks of him, he’s never had a decent meal or even clean water to drink. Chelsey didn’t know what to say, she always made it a point to ignore the homeless. So not knowing what to say, she said nothing and simply tossed her chicken towards him. She turned and walked away before it hit the ground. She had work to do and was running late. She picked up her package (to be smuggled) from the shop owner and headed towards the nearby Locust. As she straddled it, she turned around to check on Tunnel Rat. The boy was gone, but the chicken was still there. She wondered why that little bastard didn’t accept her charity. “No matter,” she thought, “He’s just another scum in the slums.” She had bigger concerns at the moment. She was about to do a smuggling run through the Badlands of Sector 858A, an area now teaming with conflict as a rebel band of freedom fighters calling themselves the Rebel Angels square off against Cobra. She thought they must be a band of idiots to actually confront Cobra in open warfare. She also thought what a stupid name, Rebel Angels. Whoever thought of that has no imagination. The Tank Busters, now that’s a cool name. Anyhow, she needed to prep to ride! She tightened her gloves, put on her helmet and adjusted the strap. As she gripped the handlebars and prepared to power up the Locust, she felt the pre-ride rush that always hits her just before a ride. Even though she’s done it a million times, every time right before she rides, she gets the jitters. Perhaps it was her body preparing for the inevitable blast of adrenaline through her veins, or perhaps it was that tiny voice in the back of her mind that echoed her self-preservation instincts and beckoned her not to ride. After all, the whole idea of riding an anti-gravity superbike was completely asinine. People would always ask, “Why would anyone, ANYONE, choose to straddle a machine that can accelerate from 0 to STUPID FAST in an instant without the safety benefits of seat belts, windshields, roll cages, or even backrests?” But she, just like anyone else who has ever ridden a superbike, knew that there’s no way to express why they ride. Once you do it, you’ll understand. She gathered herself as much as she could even as the pre-ride jitters began peak. She drew a deep breath, held it, and reached over the engine start switch. She closed her eyes and switched on the power, click. The marketplace around the corner of that shop, a place already bustling with non stop chattering voices and noise was silenced in fear by the loud and sudden roar of the Anti-gravity engines kicking over and echoing down the narrow corridors. Ginger Punk then powered up the thrusters and tested the thrust vectoring winglets. All systems were normal and the engines were heating up to the ideal temperature. She hunched over and her heart began to pound as she readied for takeoff. She worked the left petal to lift the locust to about 5 feet above ground and as the anti-gravity engines lifted, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Her heart began beating even faster. She then worked the throttle and handle bar as gently as peeling a peach to squeeze just enough thrust out of the left winglet to rotate the locust and point its nose to the right towards the open plains of the Badlands. The engines began to whine louder as the hyperdrive began to swallow and condense more and more air into its ignition chambers preparing for the upcoming blast. By now, her heart was racing and she felt herself beginning to sweat. The only cure to this pre-ride nervous state was to ride like a bat out of hell. So with that, she looked up at the horizon, and yanked the throttle. The sleeping beast within the Locust came to life and with a sudden blast, the winglets opened and unleashed their fury. The Locust launched forth propelling her through time and space leaving nothing but dust in her wake. It rocketed faster and faster across the plain with such fury that it seemed as though the beast between her legs wanted to kill her. It was insane that a human being would straddle such a machine and propel themselves at such incredible speeds without so much as a seatbelt. To counteract the acceleration, she pushed forward with her legs and pressed her body flush against hull of the Locust. As it rocketed faster and faster reaching ever greater speed, her only refuge from the increasing windblast was to cram her body as low, forward, and as close as possible to that little nook right behind the main autocannon at the nose. Before she knew it, the Locust topped out at its first level of speed as its engines screamed ever louder. She readied herself for the secondary level of speed, kicked the right pedal to shift up and yanked the throttle again. The result was an even louder and astounding blast from the winglets. Not only did this accelerate the Locust forward, the iron beast between her legs also thrust upward into her body with such a force that her butt momentarily left the seat. An inexperienced rider would have found themselves airborne, but not Ginger. She lived for this. She pressed her body forward flush against the hull again and yanked full throttle. This time it’s acceleration was so great that it now felt like the Locust was trying to rip her arms right out of their sockets. When you go from 0 mph to 60 mph in 1.5 seconds, it’s a thrill. When you reach 100 mph in 3 seconds, it’s a blast. When reach 150 mph in 6 seconds, it’s a sensation overload. When you reach 200 mph in 10 seconds, you’re insane. That’s when the wind blast sucks the air right out from inside your helmet and your ears pop. For Ginger, this was all she needed to make her happy. When you’re going this fast, the horizon before you becomes nothing more than a blur and tunnel vision sets in. This is when your brain scans far ahead and everything outside of the focal point streaks pass you in an instant. The pre-ride jitters were now replaced by heart pounding adrenaline. In no time at all, the slums that she left behind disappeared into a vanishing point and became a distant memory. Normally, she would have a smile from ear to ear underneath her helmet, but this day was different. On this day she wasn’t able to leave all of the memories of the slums behind; for some reason, she couldn’t stop thinking about Tunnel Rat. As she thought about Tunnel Rat some more, she realized, he must be starving right about now. Even as she sped away nearly carefree enjoying her superbike, that homeless child must be worrying about where is next meal will be coming from. She began to even worry about him. Perhaps it was his innocent eyes, perhaps it was because he showed some cleverness in school yard, or perhaps it was because she started to feel guilty for hating him and his fellow homeless kind without any real reason. She thought to herself, “I shouldn’t have just thrown food at him.” She realized she treated him like he was an animal and he was only a boy. She wondered why she didn’t just walk over and hand him food. She began to feel something she hadn’t felt in years; guilt. Suddenly, this hardened mafiosi found herself experiencing an aching feeling that could only be quenched by redemption and in this case that meant she needed to find Tunnel Rat upon her return and make sure the boy had a decent meal. Before she could give it any further thought though, her radio crackled with the Tank Buster’s emergency code: “Apple Orange Red… Apple Orange Red… Apple Orange Red…” She quickly hit her airbrakes and came to a halt. “Apple Orange Red… Apple Orange Red… Apple Orange Red…” the radio kept crackling. This was code for stop everything you’re doing and get to your shelters immediately. She turned around to look back towards the slums and saw massive columns of black smoke rising from the horizon. The slums were under attack. She sent transmission to her friend and comrade, codename: Ferrell Punk. Feral Punk seen below (thanks Dr. Ville): Ginger: “Feral, come in, this is Ginger, do you read? Over.” Feral: “I got the message too, where are you?” Ginger: “76 alpha, what’s going on?” Feral: “Pigs (slang for Iron Grenadiers) in the open (code for assaulting the field) in the slums. You’re going to have to proceed to 78 alpha, that’s your closest shelter.” Ginger: “Why the F*CK are they attacking the slums, there’s nothing there for them? I thought the Bahamut was on course for Prometheus?” Feral: “Who knows, but It was the Bahamut (Iron Grenadiers massive floating air battle cruiser) that bombarded the slums from hundreds of miles away. Now there’s Pigs deploying everywhere. They may be clearing out the slums. Maybe they think Cobra or the Rebel Angels might use it for shelter or a base of attack. The Pigs are also looking for their own traitor, General Hawk and his band of assholes, GI Joe. Avoid the slums at all costs, proceed to 78 alpha, you’ll receive new orders once there.” Ginger checked her charts and plotted the route to 78 alpha. She pointed the Locust towards in that direction and was getting ready to launch again, but then suddenly, she thought about Tunnel Rat again. She looked back at towards the slums and saw a blanket of black smoke over the horizon. She wondered if the boy survived. Surely in all that devastation, he couldn’t have. She then turned towards 78 alpha and prepared to twist the throttle again, but she just couldn’t. She knew that she could easily make it to safety at 78 alpha, but she knew that even if she did, she would only be haunted by thoughts of that poor starving and defenseless child lost among the ruins in the slums. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and suddenly pulled the handlebars back and turned the Locust around and blasted the Locust back towards the slums. She didn’t know exactly why, but she just she just had to see if the boy was ok. As she raced back to the slums with the engines roaring, her radio crackled again: Feral: “Ginger what are you doing, we’re seeing you on our scopes headed back to the slums, you’re going the wrong way!” Ginger: “There’s something, someone I need to check on.” Feral: “What? Who? There’s no one left, there’s nothing left! We’re seeing TARGATs coming down too, Pigs are everywhere, you can’t go back!” Ginger: “Don’t worry about me, I can outrun missiles on the Locust!” Feral: “Look, it’s Bombstrike’s orders, get to your nearest shelter, head to 78 alpha! Just who are you checking on in the slums?!” Ginger: “Tell your sister I couldn’t care less about her orders. I just need to check on a little boy. Don’t worry, I’ll be at 78 alpha soon.” Ginger then switched her radio off and continued to disobey orders. As she approached the slums, the fires came into view and the smell of the choking black smoke filled the air. She pulled the Locust near the shop where she had lunch, there was nothing left. Nothing but ruins. The school building was reduced to rubble. Nearly every building was and the ones that were not were on fire. Although it was daytime, the towering black smoke columns blocked out the sun and turned day to night. If it were not for the fires, she wouldn't have even seen what she came looking for. Thanks to the fiery red glow dancing with shadows amongst the rubble, she saw all the evidence she need to know the fate of the little boy, it was his little brown beanie hat crushed within the onslaught of the rubble. She got off the Locust and ran toward the rubble. She approached the schoolyard and saw it clearly, it really was his little brown beanie hat. At that moment, all the emotions she had worked so hard to hide beneath her mafiosi exterior came out bursting from deep within, and she couldn’t stop her tears from pouring down her face. She fell to her knees and wept. She realized that she would never be able to forgive herself for mistreating the poor boy. All he wanted was some leftover food, and she treated him like he was nothing more than an animal. Just as she was about to get up to head out for 78 alpha, she heard the pitter patter of little feet. She looked up and there he was. He emerged from his drainage pipe and ran over to pick up his hat. He looked over to her and the two made eye contact. She was elated to see that he survived the initial attack. “Such a clever boy,” she thought. She wanted to cry out to him but strangely, she didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t thought this far ahead and before either one of them could say anything, the unmistakable sound of incoming artillery began to shriek again. The sound of satin sheets being torn across the sky were followed by Earth shattering explosions. One after another. The ground beneath them quaked with each impact. The Earth shook so violently that it took her several attempts to get back up. She looked back at the Locust and to her horror, it took a hit and was in pieces. For the first time in a long time, Ginger felt helpless. She looked back over to Tunnel Rat, he was still there. They made eye contact in silence again. He then shrugged his shoulders and opened up his palms to gesture, “Oh well, sorry for your loss" as if it were just another bike. This was the Locust for crying out loud! She won 4 world championships on it! He ran back towards the opening of his drainage pipe. Ginger remained where she was, still at a loss for words. With all the devastation and bombs falling all around her, she found herself frozen in fear. She could still see Tunnel Rat through the dense black smoke at the opening of the drainage pipe across the schoolyard. He was screaming at her but she couldn’t hear a word through the shrieking artillery. Tunnel Rat repeatedly screamed at her, but it was no use, she couldn’t hear a thing. Finally, after several more attempts at screaming at her, Tunnel Rat reluctantly ran to her and when he got within an ear shot, he screamed again, “Well lady, you coming or not?!” He grabbed her by the hand and ran back to the drainage pipe. She was still a bit in shock from all the devastation but managed to follow and keep up with the boy. He led her by flash light down into his own little domain through the drainage system of the slums. After cramming herself through small openings and narrow corridors, one turn after another in this apparent deep underground maze of drainage pipes, they finally arrive at a large corridor and she was shocked at what she saw there. This little Tunnel Rat has been a busy little bee. He seems to have built up quite a stockpile of food, weapons, and all other manner of material goods. These were clearly lifted from the shops above. She looked down at him and he up at her and she finally managed to muster her first words, “Sorry for throwing food at you.” Tunnel Rat walked over to his stash of stolen goods, and picked up a food ration, handed it to her and said, “Its ok.” Ginger: “No, it’s not ok, I shouldn’t have thrown that food at you, I should’ve … I should’ve handed it to you.” Tunnel Rat: “No, not you lady, I was talking to them.” As he said that, several other children emerged from hiding. It appears that Tunnel Rat had led his friends to safety. When she saw the kids, she suddenly realized that she was the adult and that she needed to get them all to safety. She radioed to Feral: Ginger: “Feral, do you copy? I need immediate evac to 78 alpha, I have children here in need of rescue, over.” Feral: “Ginger, thank the Gods you’re ok. Negative on the evac, 78 alpha took a direct hit; it’s gone.” Ginger: “What’s the situation?” Feral: “The area is crawling with Pigs. Stay put where you are and lay low. General Salazar and Bombstrike are rallying the Tank Busters for a counter strike. If these Pigs think they can just come into the Badlands and do whatever they want, they’ve got another thing coming.We’re going to commence radio silence now, General’s orders. Switch onto Apple Orange Red and be ready for the next signal. Good luck, I’ll see you on the other side, Feral out.” It was in that moment that Chelsey realized that it could be days before the Tank Busters rallied on the next signal. She knew very well how the Iron Grenadiers operated. During the Eastern Rebellion (a conflict that happened over 10 years ago), when the Iron Grenadiers moved through, they left nothing but destruction behind them. They believed in the scorched Earth strategy and it was up to her to keep these children safe until the Tank Busters could rally together. She realized she was their only hope and as she sat there worried and perplexed at just how she would accomplish that, Tunnel Rat reached over and put his hand on her’s and said, “Don’t worry, I will protect you. I will protect everyone here.” THEME MUSIC: THIS STORY DEDICATED TO MY WHITE ASS BLONDE ITALIAN MISTRESS
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[b]Lance's Customs Public Album:https://photos.google.com/albums My Feedback: http://www.hisstank.com/forum/buy-se...-feedback.html Last edited by lance858a; 04-19-2015 at 01:23 PM.. |
04-13-2015, 01:38 PM | #3 |
Hisstank.Com General
Join Date: May 2009
Location: Los Angeles
Posts: 5,169
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More pics:
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[b]Lance's Customs Public Album:https://photos.google.com/albums My Feedback: http://www.hisstank.com/forum/buy-se...-feedback.html |
04-13-2015, 03:43 PM | #4 |
Hold My Drink.
Join Date: Mar 2011
Location: Texas
Posts: 739
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Tunnel Rat looks great. Her shorts and even the pockets are awesome. Everything about this custom is impressive.
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04-13-2015, 04:41 PM | #5 |
Hold My Drink.
Join Date: Mar 2011
Location: Texas
Posts: 739
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On a second look, I notice the air ship is partly made up from a Lost Planet mech.
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04-13-2015, 05:07 PM | #6 |
Cobra Viper
Join Date: Sep 2012
Location: Nyc
Posts: 342
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The way you put scraps of plastic together is amazing. Love the rebel verse as well, oritoy owes you some money lol.
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man nose knows piff blud!!! Last edited by gutts; 04-13-2015 at 05:11 PM.. Reason: Adding |
04-13-2015, 08:01 PM | #7 |
Hisstank.Com General
Join Date: May 2009
Location: Los Angeles
Posts: 5,169
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Quote:
Quote:
Thanks, what's oritoy?
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[b]Lance's Customs Public Album:https://photos.google.com/albums My Feedback: http://www.hisstank.com/forum/buy-se...-feedback.html |
04-13-2015, 08:38 PM | #8 |
Grand Master
Join Date: Dec 2008
Location: illinios
Posts: 5,716
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maaaan that craft...
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04-13-2015, 09:17 PM | #9 |
Cobra Viper
Join Date: Sep 2012
Location: Nyc
Posts: 342
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Acid rain action figures made by oritoy
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man nose knows piff blud!!! |
04-13-2015, 10:01 PM | #10 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Oct 2007
Location: Da Ville
Posts: 1,510
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Always enjoy looking at your great customs and this one doesn't disapoint. I love the ripped stockings and different colored socks!
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