Below is an on-going story where YOU can decide what is going to happen next. Just read the story so far then send us an E-Mail (ewokmic@yahoo.com) of the next paragraph (try and keep it short) along with your name. We will check it and it will be added within a few day's.
It wasn't just Los Angeles who had trouble with replicants, oh no. A few years prior to Deckards adventures a man named Hudson had a bit of trouble with some of the older Nexus 4 models in London.
It had been six months since Hudson had seen a replicant. This one was big but uninteligent and had taken very little to efort to track it down, he just followed the trail of destruction. It had murdered 6 humans but it wouldn't have mattered if it hadn't. All replicants on earth had to be retired. That was the law and Hudson had no problem with it. He just hated all this waiting about. (This segment was by Michael Petch)
Now, he stood backed up against a wall his breathe heavy from the run across the interim space to this piece of cover, his upper torso twisted so that the profile of his face was near the edge of the corner which this wall abrutly terminated into. His right hand held above his head, the handle of his .45 magnum nestled tightly in his grip, waiting. His left hand slipping slowly, silently down to his hip, fingers extending, moving to elicit the sabre sheathed there. (This segment was by Mnemonic Knight)
There was a clatter of scrap slag, as the replicant emerged from it's own cover clumsily, knocking over the discarded pile of metal refuge it had tried to conceal itself behind. A male nexus model 4, almost archaic in terms of development, but still more than adequate about it's personal primary functions; an abetoire floor worker. It possessed no illusions about it's nature and was fully aware that its act of murder had condemned it to BladeRunner Law. It wasn't interested in anything accept it's own escape and survival, and Hudson knew, that this is where he had to cut in. (This segment was by SeventhHeaven)
Inhaling a long, drawn in breathe upon his cigarette, Hudson pulled it from his mouth with the two little fingers of his right hand, bringing the handgun intimately close to his face, lowering it, as if in anticipation to strike. The sabre which he now held snugly in his left fist, he raised, the slightly curved blade poiting away and slightly behind him at mid-body level, as if in preperation for a slash, it's tarnished steel glowing slightly with the illuminations of the industrial lights, reflected upon it's surface. Crushing the dropped cigarette stub beneath his heel, he tightened his grips and swung around the corner in a great rush of movement, the sword swiftly tracing a blur of movement, a slashing arch of steel made defensively in front of him, his Magnum brought down to bear, held steadily, and aiming directly before him, seeking it's target.... (This segment was by EternalFlame)
Now it's you'r chance to continue the story! See the top of the page to find out how.