RPG
Introduction
.
.
.
Viva la Neo Las Vegas.
Long Live the New Las Vegas.
"It's six o'clock, and this is the news. Our top story today. It's been three days since the passing of the Kinsey-Neil Registration Act, and the rioting shows no signs of slowing down. What started as a small group of powered humans protesting against the SIRS, the Super Identification and Registration Service, quickly escalated into full blown anarchy, with entire districts taking to the streets. The police have cordoned off the worst hit areas, but have nowhere near the manpower to stop the rioting directly. In desperate measures, the mayor has suggested calling in the national guard and establishing martial law..."
Once a powerhouse known for tourism, it's eclectic, vintage personality, high-rise casinos and crime rate, Las Vegas is now partially under water. The world has flooded, weather from global warming or a nuclear disaster, it is unknown and disputed. California is completely under water and is now a coastline for the United States, and Nevada is the "new" California, living on beach fronts and surrounded by desert.
It is 2025, and crime has escalated, especially in cities where no one dares to tread, the wastelands of America that are on the edges of becoming flooded or desolate. Las Vegas is one of those wastelands. Even before the SIRS came about, it was on the edge of society... and now that the Identification Service has been put into effect, it's even worse.
Home to criminals, convicts and what scientists call "mutations", Las Vegas still holds it's vintage appeal and casinos. People still flock to the city, hoping to become rich and famous, and the residents ignore the crime and the violence that is kept in their city.
As the violence continues and escalates, a new generation of superheroes are discovering their powers and their drive to make Las Vegas as it used to be - as their parents and grandparents described it to be.
Will you be a part of the violence? Or will you be a part of the superheroes, trying to make Neo Las Vegas as it used to be?
Thank you to Shanatos for the place and the name for Neo Las Vegas, and thank you Harlequin for the opening paragraph! <3
California, Washington, some of Texas, Florida, and other states around the outside perimeter are either partially or completely covered in water. California is no longer a state, but a graveyard, covered in water with the remains of skyscrapers peaking out. Many have moved inland and so the states that make up the coast line have their population decreasing. Las Vegas is an exception.
Nevada is now the coast of the United States. California is completely beach and covered in water. While most of Nevada retains it's desert, other areas, now around water and below sea level, have become swamp.
Las Vegas is still thriving. It still holds it's eclectic appeal, with vintage signs and casinos and high-rise, expensive hotels. The residential population has dwindled, but the tourist income hasn't faltered a bit. Crime is up, and it is something the residents and tourists try to ignore.
This is a superhero/supervillain roleplay, but that does not mean your character can magically be the new Superman. There are limits.
Here is a general idea of powers you can pick from - you could also come up with something a little more original, if you please - but please do not be a Mary Sue. All powers have their own drawbacks. EX: reinforced skeleton just means your bones do not break as easily - if at all - but you are still able to get burned, cut, and maimed. Your bones would just retain intact.
Controlling animals.
Enhanced senses.
Shape-shifting.
Elemental generation.
Heat generation.
Luck.
Reinforced skeleton.
Weapon mastery.
Your general "mystery man," AKA Robin, Batman.
Self-healing / Healing of others.
Super speed.
Invisibility.
Logic.
Superheroes and villains can be whatever age, but I would rather them be in the high teens or early twenties.
A history will be needed. Are they the offspring of a past superhero? (That does not mean they receive powers from both, but a mix of their strengths and weaknesses.) Are they a "mutation," having a genetic modification that has laid dormant until now? Or are they a mystery man?
Anime or realistic pictures can be used - within reason. No baby-faced anime characters - Host Club springs to mind - and no horribly well known actors, actresses, or musicians, UNLESS it's NOT unphotoshopped/airbrushed/fixed.. Your character isn't a replica of Britney Spears! :P Have a photo of Hayley Williams caught off guard or unposed? That's fine. A picture from a photoshoot that's been airbrushed and made perfect? Not so much.
You catch my drift? If it's too chibi, too perfect, horribly posed or a very mainstream image, I would like you not to use it. But if you have to, do what you gotta do. I'm not going to eat you or anything.
Remove "REMOVE," change "COLOR" to a hex code, "URL" to a Youtube video, etc. You know the drift. Things with a * are optional and are just there for extra information.
Good:
- James Thomas Willard IV
-
- RESERVED
-
Evil:
- Aden Guile
- RESERVED
- Sage
-
Undecided:
- RESERVED
- Loriane Thomas
- Percussion
-
1. No god-modding. No mary sues. No one-liners, unless absolutely necessary.
2. If you and another character fight - not argue, fight -, take it to PM and make it into ONE post, so we don't clutter the RP with a bunch of two or three sentence posts.
3. The more descriptive the better.
4. I'm not going to say how often you need to post, but if you fall behind, it's your own problem. Keep up.
5. Follow RPG rules. No cyber. Bad words are okay as long as you're not dropping the F bomb every single post.
6. If you appear to not have the writing ability needed for this roleplay, I reserve the right to deny your application.
7. Can't decide on an outcome for a battle? Do it over PM and don't bring it to the OOC. If you can't reach a decision, I will pick.
8. Don't question my authority. I am the God Mod and what I say goes, unless you have a good reason.
Thank you for looking at my roleplay! <3
.
.
Viva la Neo Las Vegas.
Long Live the New Las Vegas.
"It's six o'clock, and this is the news. Our top story today. It's been three days since the passing of the Kinsey-Neil Registration Act, and the rioting shows no signs of slowing down. What started as a small group of powered humans protesting against the SIRS, the Super Identification and Registration Service, quickly escalated into full blown anarchy, with entire districts taking to the streets. The police have cordoned off the worst hit areas, but have nowhere near the manpower to stop the rioting directly. In desperate measures, the mayor has suggested calling in the national guard and establishing martial law..."
Once a powerhouse known for tourism, it's eclectic, vintage personality, high-rise casinos and crime rate, Las Vegas is now partially under water. The world has flooded, weather from global warming or a nuclear disaster, it is unknown and disputed. California is completely under water and is now a coastline for the United States, and Nevada is the "new" California, living on beach fronts and surrounded by desert.
It is 2025, and crime has escalated, especially in cities where no one dares to tread, the wastelands of America that are on the edges of becoming flooded or desolate. Las Vegas is one of those wastelands. Even before the SIRS came about, it was on the edge of society... and now that the Identification Service has been put into effect, it's even worse.
Home to criminals, convicts and what scientists call "mutations", Las Vegas still holds it's vintage appeal and casinos. People still flock to the city, hoping to become rich and famous, and the residents ignore the crime and the violence that is kept in their city.
As the violence continues and escalates, a new generation of superheroes are discovering their powers and their drive to make Las Vegas as it used to be - as their parents and grandparents described it to be.
Will you be a part of the violence? Or will you be a part of the superheroes, trying to make Neo Las Vegas as it used to be?
Thank you to Shanatos for the place and the name for Neo Las Vegas, and thank you Harlequin for the opening paragraph! <3
Place.
United States.
United States.
California, Washington, some of Texas, Florida, and other states around the outside perimeter are either partially or completely covered in water. California is no longer a state, but a graveyard, covered in water with the remains of skyscrapers peaking out. Many have moved inland and so the states that make up the coast line have their population decreasing. Las Vegas is an exception.
Nevada.
Nevada is now the coast of the United States. California is completely beach and covered in water. While most of Nevada retains it's desert, other areas, now around water and below sea level, have become swamp.
Neo Las Vegas.
Las Vegas is still thriving. It still holds it's eclectic appeal, with vintage signs and casinos and high-rise, expensive hotels. The residential population has dwindled, but the tourist income hasn't faltered a bit. Crime is up, and it is something the residents and tourists try to ignore.
Powers
This is a superhero/supervillain roleplay, but that does not mean your character can magically be the new Superman. There are limits.
Here is a general idea of powers you can pick from - you could also come up with something a little more original, if you please - but please do not be a Mary Sue. All powers have their own drawbacks. EX: reinforced skeleton just means your bones do not break as easily - if at all - but you are still able to get burned, cut, and maimed. Your bones would just retain intact.
Controlling animals.
Enhanced senses.
Shape-shifting.
Elemental generation.
Heat generation.
Luck.
Reinforced skeleton.
Weapon mastery.
Your general "mystery man," AKA Robin, Batman.
Self-healing / Healing of others.
Super speed.
Invisibility.
Logic.
Character Information
Superheroes and villains can be whatever age, but I would rather them be in the high teens or early twenties.
A history will be needed. Are they the offspring of a past superhero? (That does not mean they receive powers from both, but a mix of their strengths and weaknesses.) Are they a "mutation," having a genetic modification that has laid dormant until now? Or are they a mystery man?
Anime or realistic pictures can be used - within reason. No baby-faced anime characters - Host Club springs to mind - and no horribly well known actors, actresses, or musicians, UNLESS it's NOT unphotoshopped/airbrushed/fixed.. Your character isn't a replica of Britney Spears! :P Have a photo of Hayley Williams caught off guard or unposed? That's fine. A picture from a photoshoot that's been airbrushed and made perfect? Not so much.
You catch my drift? If it's too chibi, too perfect, horribly posed or a very mainstream image, I would like you not to use it. But if you have to, do what you gotta do. I'm not going to eat you or anything.
Character Skelly
Remove "REMOVE," change "COLOR" to a hex code, "URL" to a Youtube video, etc. You know the drift. Things with a * are optional and are just there for extra information.
- Code: Select all
[right][size=200][color=#COLOR]REAL NAME[/color][/size]
[img]IMAGE[/img][/right]
[color=#COLOR]Superhero / Villain Name / Alias: [/color]
[color=#COLOR]Gender: [/color] Male or Female or?
[color=#COLOR]Age: [/color]
[color=#COLOR]Physical Description: Clothing, etc.
[b]Everyday:[/b]
[b]Superhero / Villain / Costume[/b]: [/color] Trademark, basically.
[color=#COLOR]Personality: [/color]
[color=#COLOR] Superhero or Supervillain?: [/color] Pick a side, or "undecided".
[color=#COLOR]Powers: [/color] See list above or consult me for a different one.
[color=#COLOR]Abilities: [/color] Anything else? Can they sew? Cook? Anything useful that may be used in the roleplay. Will your character be the group's makeshift medic? Etc.
[color=#COLOR]Strengths: [/color]
[color=#COLOR]Weaknesses: [/color]
[color=#COLOR]Likes: [/color]
[color=#COLOR]Dislikes/fears: [/color]
[color=#COLOR]History: [/color] History. Self explanatory. Who are their parents, if important? How did they discover their power?
[color=#COLOR]Other: [/color]* Are you allergic to anything? Collect things?
[color=#COLOR]Theme Song:[/color]* [url=URL]NAME[/url] by ARTIST
Character Tally:
Good:
- James Thomas Willard IV
-
- RESERVED
-
Evil:
- Aden Guile
- RESERVED
- Sage
-
Undecided:
- RESERVED
- Loriane Thomas
- Percussion
-
Rules.
1. No god-modding. No mary sues. No one-liners, unless absolutely necessary.
2. If you and another character fight - not argue, fight -, take it to PM and make it into ONE post, so we don't clutter the RP with a bunch of two or three sentence posts.
3. The more descriptive the better.
4. I'm not going to say how often you need to post, but if you fall behind, it's your own problem. Keep up.
5. Follow RPG rules. No cyber. Bad words are okay as long as you're not dropping the F bomb every single post.
6. If you appear to not have the writing ability needed for this roleplay, I reserve the right to deny your application.
7. Can't decide on an outcome for a battle? Do it over PM and don't bring it to the OOC. If you can't reach a decision, I will pick.
8. Don't question my authority. I am the God Mod and what I say goes, unless you have a good reason.
Thank you for looking at my roleplay! <3
Rules
The GM of this roleplay hasn't created any rules! You can do whatever you like!
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Duncan Dunlop played by TheCreepyCanadian
"Sure, I'm a villai- wait, no I changed my mind. Now I'm one of the good guys. Whoops, I lied. I am a villain.. or am I?"
Loraine Irene Thomas played by Machubi-Uniki
"A woman's heart is such a complex problem--the owner thereof is often most incompetent to find the solution of this puzzle. " -Baroness Orzy
James Thomas Willard IV played by Harlequin Smile
The blood of martyrs is the oil that turns the wheels of change
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OOC Notes
"It's six o'clock, and this is the news. Our top story today. It's been three days since the passing of the Kinsey-Neil Registration Act, and the rioting shows no signs of slowing down. What started as a small group of powered humans protesting against the SIRS, the Super Identification and Registration Service, quickly escalated into full blown anarchy, with entire districts taking to the streets. The police have cordoned off the worst hit areas, but have nowhere near the manpower to stop the rioting directly. In desperate measures, the mayor has suggested calling in the national guard and establishing martial law..."
The anchor, Timothy Connors, a man with seven years experience presenting the evening news, suddenly stopped talking, staring somewhere past the camera, eyes widening, tongue catching at words that, for the first time ever, wouldnt come. From behind the camera came screams, then two gunshots, a second apart. The screaming stopped, and the pistol emerged into the camera's line of sight, followed quickly by its owner. Timothy stared up at the man holding it, face full of incomprehension, the words finally flowing free.
"Steven? Wha, what are you doing?"
The man with the pistol said nothing, only gesturing for Timothy to leave his seat. It didnt happen, Timothy only looked more confused as he spoke again. "Steve, come on, put the gun down, this isnt funny. I've known you three years. I was at your house last week for Ant's fifth birthday...aargh!"
His words were cut off by a savage smack from the pistol, and Timothy tumbled from his chair, fresh blood pumping from the gaping wound in his skull. Unperturbed, the gunman sat down, laid his pistol on the table within easy reach, and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. Coughing once, scanning the paper, he looked up at the camera with icy eyes and spoke in a voice both deep and measured.
"This city is dying. The world is full of corruption. Corruption of the body. Corruption of the mind. Corruption of the soul." He paused and looked down at the paper again before continuing, obviously reading from it. "For too long have the people lived in sin. For too long have drug runners ruled the streets, whilst politicians little better than the criminals they denounce take office and do nothing to halt the spread of evil that infests our city. Worse, they pass laws that treat those of us who have the ability to do something about the problem as little more than animals, collared, cuffed and completely at their mercy!"
A harsh slam from behind the camera cut him off, accompanied by muffled shouting. The gunman snatched up the pistol, pointed it somewhere off frame, sounding frantic, the words coming faster. "If you, like me, are sick of the lack of decency in this world and are willing to do something to combat it, then be at Sunset Park, 7pm tomorrow. We will find you."
There was a titanic crash, the slam of wood splintering off its hinges. The pistol barked, the rapid patter of automatic fire replying in kind. The gunman seemed to dance in place for a moment, then tumbled backwards accompanied by a chorus of screams. The screen went completely black, a single word, in a simple white font, stamped in the centre.
Smiling to himself, James Willard shrugged his coat closer around his shoulders and set off down the street away from the window of the electrical store he'd been watching the broadcast from. That little stunt ought to get everyone's attention. In a way, he almost felt sorry for Steve, or more his family. The two had worked together a couple years back, and Steve was a good guy. Little dim, easily lead, but he worked hard and loved his kids, and that was what mattered. It hadnt taken long to talk him round. He'd had even suggested another colleague who could be interested, someone to work the background, make sure they werent cut off.
The invitation to the park was mostly a decoy. After a show like this one, it'd be crawling with authority, but he'd lurk in the background, talk to the people who showed. If he was lucky, there mighht be a couple of people who showed who he could use, who had the connections he needed. Didnt matter if the police turned up anyway. Its not like he would be getting up in front of whatever crowd gathered.
No, that honour belonged to Abi. Steve's wife. No. James paused, correcting himself, his widow. He'd had a little talk with her once Steve had left for 'work.' One that had taken far longer than expected. She'd always been a strong minded woman, one he'd never seen eye to eye with. Probably why Sarah had got on so well with her. They always loved ganging up on him, beating him down with paired arguments, always with Steve laughing someone in the background.
He stopped dead in the street, drawing some strange looks from the few people around, mentally shaking himself. "No." He thought. "No use in bringing up the past. The past is gone, and there's nothing you can do to change that. This is what you've been dealt. This is what must be done. No distractions." Face grim, he set off again, right hand reaching into the pocket of the jacket, finding comfort in the cold steel weight that lay within. Tonight had gone as well as it could have done. Now all there was to do was wait and see what tomorrow would bring.
The anchor, Timothy Connors, a man with seven years experience presenting the evening news, suddenly stopped talking, staring somewhere past the camera, eyes widening, tongue catching at words that, for the first time ever, wouldnt come. From behind the camera came screams, then two gunshots, a second apart. The screaming stopped, and the pistol emerged into the camera's line of sight, followed quickly by its owner. Timothy stared up at the man holding it, face full of incomprehension, the words finally flowing free.
"Steven? Wha, what are you doing?"
The man with the pistol said nothing, only gesturing for Timothy to leave his seat. It didnt happen, Timothy only looked more confused as he spoke again. "Steve, come on, put the gun down, this isnt funny. I've known you three years. I was at your house last week for Ant's fifth birthday...aargh!"
His words were cut off by a savage smack from the pistol, and Timothy tumbled from his chair, fresh blood pumping from the gaping wound in his skull. Unperturbed, the gunman sat down, laid his pistol on the table within easy reach, and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. Coughing once, scanning the paper, he looked up at the camera with icy eyes and spoke in a voice both deep and measured.
"This city is dying. The world is full of corruption. Corruption of the body. Corruption of the mind. Corruption of the soul." He paused and looked down at the paper again before continuing, obviously reading from it. "For too long have the people lived in sin. For too long have drug runners ruled the streets, whilst politicians little better than the criminals they denounce take office and do nothing to halt the spread of evil that infests our city. Worse, they pass laws that treat those of us who have the ability to do something about the problem as little more than animals, collared, cuffed and completely at their mercy!"
A harsh slam from behind the camera cut him off, accompanied by muffled shouting. The gunman snatched up the pistol, pointed it somewhere off frame, sounding frantic, the words coming faster. "If you, like me, are sick of the lack of decency in this world and are willing to do something to combat it, then be at Sunset Park, 7pm tomorrow. We will find you."
There was a titanic crash, the slam of wood splintering off its hinges. The pistol barked, the rapid patter of automatic fire replying in kind. The gunman seemed to dance in place for a moment, then tumbled backwards accompanied by a chorus of screams. The screen went completely black, a single word, in a simple white font, stamped in the centre.
Believe
Smiling to himself, James Willard shrugged his coat closer around his shoulders and set off down the street away from the window of the electrical store he'd been watching the broadcast from. That little stunt ought to get everyone's attention. In a way, he almost felt sorry for Steve, or more his family. The two had worked together a couple years back, and Steve was a good guy. Little dim, easily lead, but he worked hard and loved his kids, and that was what mattered. It hadnt taken long to talk him round. He'd had even suggested another colleague who could be interested, someone to work the background, make sure they werent cut off.
The invitation to the park was mostly a decoy. After a show like this one, it'd be crawling with authority, but he'd lurk in the background, talk to the people who showed. If he was lucky, there mighht be a couple of people who showed who he could use, who had the connections he needed. Didnt matter if the police turned up anyway. Its not like he would be getting up in front of whatever crowd gathered.
No, that honour belonged to Abi. Steve's wife. No. James paused, correcting himself, his widow. He'd had a little talk with her once Steve had left for 'work.' One that had taken far longer than expected. She'd always been a strong minded woman, one he'd never seen eye to eye with. Probably why Sarah had got on so well with her. They always loved ganging up on him, beating him down with paired arguments, always with Steve laughing someone in the background.
He stopped dead in the street, drawing some strange looks from the few people around, mentally shaking himself. "No." He thought. "No use in bringing up the past. The past is gone, and there's nothing you can do to change that. This is what you've been dealt. This is what must be done. No distractions." Face grim, he set off again, right hand reaching into the pocket of the jacket, finding comfort in the cold steel weight that lay within. Tonight had gone as well as it could have done. Now all there was to do was wait and see what tomorrow would bring.
OOC Notes
((I just want to inform you ahead of time, when something is in bold she is watching it with her clairvoyance.))
Loraine had a routine, it was a routine she had every day. First she woke, she had breakfast, she picked out her outfit, got a shower, got dressed, prepared her camera, etc. At the end of the day, her last piece of the schedule began at six. This is when she turned on the T.V. just to see the news.
Recently this was the shortest part of her day. After all, the news was about the rioting against the SIRS. She refused to be influenced to take sides by anyone who wasn't in her own situation, rather she was stubborn enough and indecisive enough to not ever take sides. So, of course when the news did finally come on she was disappointedly unsurprised by the announcer’s words.
"It's six o'clock, and this is the news. Our top story today. It's been three days since the passing of the Kinsey-Neil Registration Act, and the rioting shows no signs of slowing down. What started as a small group of powered humans protesting against the SIRS, the Super Ident-"
Lori turned it off long before it was ever finished. She was fed up now, after all she didn’t quite understand the logic that made them think that everyone actually cared about that crap. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about the new Act, or even the rioting, it was mainly that almost every single day she has to walk by it and unfortunately her ‘shield’ still had not developed the strength necessary to block out all of that rage. Obviously, this drastically affected her mood, and she personally didn’t enjoy being mad every morning for no obvious reason other than the fact she was empath and was unwillingly taking in their emotion.
She sighed in frustration. For once that was actually her own emotion she was feeling. She stared at the now blank television, almost as though she was watching something important on the screen. Something no one else could ever see. Lori received that look a lot. No one knows why though, she doesn’t tell anyone why. Clairvoyance. A curse, and a blessing. The ability to see what you want to see by choice, but the ability to see what you wish you never had by force. It was useful. It was dangerous. It was what everyone wished they had until they had it. No one wants to see the things they hate, or fear, or make you want to cry.
However, to Lori it made her see what was truly important. She understood this. Her brother taught her this. Bad things happen. It is different when you see it as it happens, however there is still nothing you can do but acknowledge it and do your very best to make it better. For Lori, it showed her what was useful, now all she had to do is find out why. Perhaps she had become numb to her own emotions, maybe she just locked them away when she saw these terrible thing. Perhaps, this is just one more thing to drive her need for revenge. Her need to destroy all those who hurt the people around them.
Good, bad, she couldn’t label herself yet, she hadn’t decided. Was what she did bad, or was it good. What she saw now, not by choice but by force, was a terrible sight indeed. She couldn’t it control sometimes. She could make herself see what she wants to see but she can’t stop it. The stimulus that triggered the clairvoyance, she doesn’t know. It’s always different. Whether it be the words of someone, or the touching of an object, or a simple action. She never knows. All she knows is what she sees. Now she sees this.
The anchor, Timothy Connors, a man with seven years experience presenting the evening news, suddenly stopped talking, staring somewhere past the camera, eyes widening, tongue catching at words that, for the first time ever, wouldnt come. From behind the camera came screams, then two gunshots, a second apart. The screaming stopped, and the pistol emerged into the camera's line of sight, followed quickly by its owner. Timothy stared up at the man holding it, face full of incomprehension, the words finally flowing free.
"Steven? Wha, what are you doing?"
The man with the pistol said nothing, only gesturing for Timothy to leave his seat. It didnt happen, Timothy only looked more confused as he spoke again. "Steve, come on, put the gun down, this isnt funny. I've known you three years. I was at your house last week for Ant's fifth birthday...aargh!"
His words were cut off by a savage smack from the pistol, and Timothy tumbled from his chair, fresh blood pumping from the gaping wound in his skull. Unperturbed, the gunman sat down, laid his pistol on the table within easy reach, and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. Coughing once, scanning the paper, he looked up at the camera with icy eyes and spoke in a voice both deep and measured.
"This city is dying. The world is full of corruption. Corruption of the body. Corruption of the mind. Corruption of the soul." He paused and looked down at the paper again before continuing, obviously reading from it. "For too long have the people lived in sin. For too long have drug runners ruled the streets, whilst politicians little better than the criminals they denounce take office and do nothing to halt the spread of evil that infests our city. Worse, they pass laws that treat those of us who have the ability to do something about the problem as little more than animals, collared, cuffed and completely at their mercy!"
A harsh slam from behind the camera cut him off, accompanied by muffled shouting. The gunman snatched up the pistol, pointed it somewhere off frame, sounding frantic, the words coming faster. "If you, like me, are sick of the lack of decency in this world and are willing to do something to combat it, then be at Sunset Park, 7pm tomorrow. We will find you."
All became quiet. Lori was back in her apartment, the apartment she never left. A tear dropped from her eyes. She did not need to see the rest to know what had happened to the man, she felt his fear even through her sight. He was dead, either now, or almost. Whether the tear was his or her own she could never be sure. The faint emotions she felt through her sight tricked her into thinking it was her own.
She was afraid. Not because of herself, but because of the man who knew he would die. On her couch she curled up shivering, shaking, and eyes closed. Her curly hair fell around her face and wrapped around her knees. She cried for the man who wouldn’t be able to cry for himself. She cried in his place. She shook for the man, she shook in his place.
The time passed and the false emotions faded. Seven P.M. Perhaps she would attend the park at that time. Not because she believe but because she needed to know more about this. More about all of this. Who was responsible for this man's death. Was it himself, or had someone else convinced him to do it. She needed to go for curiosities sake.
The real question however, was whether she needed to actually be there. It was safer to simply watch, but it was easier to ask question and read emotions and see the past connected to those emotions when she was there in person. She had time to decide. She was in no hurry. She would not worry. She would simply sleep.
((So, I worked on this longer than I thought I would. I was wanting it to be short, I was just attempting to proceed the timeline and such. Perhaps skip to the morning.))
Loraine had a routine, it was a routine she had every day. First she woke, she had breakfast, she picked out her outfit, got a shower, got dressed, prepared her camera, etc. At the end of the day, her last piece of the schedule began at six. This is when she turned on the T.V. just to see the news.
Recently this was the shortest part of her day. After all, the news was about the rioting against the SIRS. She refused to be influenced to take sides by anyone who wasn't in her own situation, rather she was stubborn enough and indecisive enough to not ever take sides. So, of course when the news did finally come on she was disappointedly unsurprised by the announcer’s words.
"It's six o'clock, and this is the news. Our top story today. It's been three days since the passing of the Kinsey-Neil Registration Act, and the rioting shows no signs of slowing down. What started as a small group of powered humans protesting against the SIRS, the Super Ident-"
Lori turned it off long before it was ever finished. She was fed up now, after all she didn’t quite understand the logic that made them think that everyone actually cared about that crap. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about the new Act, or even the rioting, it was mainly that almost every single day she has to walk by it and unfortunately her ‘shield’ still had not developed the strength necessary to block out all of that rage. Obviously, this drastically affected her mood, and she personally didn’t enjoy being mad every morning for no obvious reason other than the fact she was empath and was unwillingly taking in their emotion.
She sighed in frustration. For once that was actually her own emotion she was feeling. She stared at the now blank television, almost as though she was watching something important on the screen. Something no one else could ever see. Lori received that look a lot. No one knows why though, she doesn’t tell anyone why. Clairvoyance. A curse, and a blessing. The ability to see what you want to see by choice, but the ability to see what you wish you never had by force. It was useful. It was dangerous. It was what everyone wished they had until they had it. No one wants to see the things they hate, or fear, or make you want to cry.
However, to Lori it made her see what was truly important. She understood this. Her brother taught her this. Bad things happen. It is different when you see it as it happens, however there is still nothing you can do but acknowledge it and do your very best to make it better. For Lori, it showed her what was useful, now all she had to do is find out why. Perhaps she had become numb to her own emotions, maybe she just locked them away when she saw these terrible thing. Perhaps, this is just one more thing to drive her need for revenge. Her need to destroy all those who hurt the people around them.
Good, bad, she couldn’t label herself yet, she hadn’t decided. Was what she did bad, or was it good. What she saw now, not by choice but by force, was a terrible sight indeed. She couldn’t it control sometimes. She could make herself see what she wants to see but she can’t stop it. The stimulus that triggered the clairvoyance, she doesn’t know. It’s always different. Whether it be the words of someone, or the touching of an object, or a simple action. She never knows. All she knows is what she sees. Now she sees this.
The anchor, Timothy Connors, a man with seven years experience presenting the evening news, suddenly stopped talking, staring somewhere past the camera, eyes widening, tongue catching at words that, for the first time ever, wouldnt come. From behind the camera came screams, then two gunshots, a second apart. The screaming stopped, and the pistol emerged into the camera's line of sight, followed quickly by its owner. Timothy stared up at the man holding it, face full of incomprehension, the words finally flowing free.
"Steven? Wha, what are you doing?"
The man with the pistol said nothing, only gesturing for Timothy to leave his seat. It didnt happen, Timothy only looked more confused as he spoke again. "Steve, come on, put the gun down, this isnt funny. I've known you three years. I was at your house last week for Ant's fifth birthday...aargh!"
His words were cut off by a savage smack from the pistol, and Timothy tumbled from his chair, fresh blood pumping from the gaping wound in his skull. Unperturbed, the gunman sat down, laid his pistol on the table within easy reach, and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. Coughing once, scanning the paper, he looked up at the camera with icy eyes and spoke in a voice both deep and measured.
"This city is dying. The world is full of corruption. Corruption of the body. Corruption of the mind. Corruption of the soul." He paused and looked down at the paper again before continuing, obviously reading from it. "For too long have the people lived in sin. For too long have drug runners ruled the streets, whilst politicians little better than the criminals they denounce take office and do nothing to halt the spread of evil that infests our city. Worse, they pass laws that treat those of us who have the ability to do something about the problem as little more than animals, collared, cuffed and completely at their mercy!"
A harsh slam from behind the camera cut him off, accompanied by muffled shouting. The gunman snatched up the pistol, pointed it somewhere off frame, sounding frantic, the words coming faster. "If you, like me, are sick of the lack of decency in this world and are willing to do something to combat it, then be at Sunset Park, 7pm tomorrow. We will find you."
All became quiet. Lori was back in her apartment, the apartment she never left. A tear dropped from her eyes. She did not need to see the rest to know what had happened to the man, she felt his fear even through her sight. He was dead, either now, or almost. Whether the tear was his or her own she could never be sure. The faint emotions she felt through her sight tricked her into thinking it was her own.
She was afraid. Not because of herself, but because of the man who knew he would die. On her couch she curled up shivering, shaking, and eyes closed. Her curly hair fell around her face and wrapped around her knees. She cried for the man who wouldn’t be able to cry for himself. She cried in his place. She shook for the man, she shook in his place.
The time passed and the false emotions faded. Seven P.M. Perhaps she would attend the park at that time. Not because she believe but because she needed to know more about this. More about all of this. Who was responsible for this man's death. Was it himself, or had someone else convinced him to do it. She needed to go for curiosities sake.
The real question however, was whether she needed to actually be there. It was safer to simply watch, but it was easier to ask question and read emotions and see the past connected to those emotions when she was there in person. She had time to decide. She was in no hurry. She would not worry. She would simply sleep.
((So, I worked on this longer than I thought I would. I was wanting it to be short, I was just attempting to proceed the timeline and such. Perhaps skip to the morning.))
OOC Notes
A lone man was walking in the heat.
He just so happened to hate the heat, almost as much as he hated walking. The loneliness was a nice change, though.
Sage walked past tipped vehicles, burglarized storefronts and small smouldering fires on his way, looking for a perfect place to hide until night came back. He had fallen asleep the past night in the middle of his desert, sheltered in his broken down beater. Waking up sweating like a pig, he felt sick and horrid. He had never liked the heat, but it was never this bad before. All he knew is he needed some cold darkness to soothe his sunburn. He absentmindedly itched at a strange black rash on his forearms. Grimacing, he wiped them on his jeans, smearing the sludge onto them instead. Closer examination revealed that he'd been doing this for at least three days. Gross. The heat was helping clear the stuff though, and when he walked, brown sunburnt flakes of the stuff drifted around his ankles.
Craning his neck and shielding his eyes from the sun, he observed a seemingly abandoned apartment building on his left. Breaking in, he searched around for a breaker. He cut the lights, plunging himself into darkness, only interrupted by some light coming in from the windows. The lights now blissfully inactive, he then activated the air conditoning. Pure heaven. As far as he was concerned, the rioters and SIRS could shove it, he could protest or whatever some other day. For now, he would eat and sleep.
He just so happened to hate the heat, almost as much as he hated walking. The loneliness was a nice change, though.
Sage walked past tipped vehicles, burglarized storefronts and small smouldering fires on his way, looking for a perfect place to hide until night came back. He had fallen asleep the past night in the middle of his desert, sheltered in his broken down beater. Waking up sweating like a pig, he felt sick and horrid. He had never liked the heat, but it was never this bad before. All he knew is he needed some cold darkness to soothe his sunburn. He absentmindedly itched at a strange black rash on his forearms. Grimacing, he wiped them on his jeans, smearing the sludge onto them instead. Closer examination revealed that he'd been doing this for at least three days. Gross. The heat was helping clear the stuff though, and when he walked, brown sunburnt flakes of the stuff drifted around his ankles.
Craning his neck and shielding his eyes from the sun, he observed a seemingly abandoned apartment building on his left. Breaking in, he searched around for a breaker. He cut the lights, plunging himself into darkness, only interrupted by some light coming in from the windows. The lights now blissfully inactive, he then activated the air conditoning. Pure heaven. As far as he was concerned, the rioters and SIRS could shove it, he could protest or whatever some other day. For now, he would eat and sleep.
OOC Notes
Kevin Stone woke up in his luxurious apartment again. It was the fifth time tonight that he'd woken up to loud yelling and explosions from the rioting a few blocks away. He tried to ignore it, turning up his stereo and playing his favorite rock songs while covering his head with a pillow.. But nomatter how loud his music was her could still hear the sounds of the large crowds. He went to the window and opened it, the sounds of rioting got even louder. Kevin took a deep breath and yelled into the city. "SHUT UP!!!" The glass windows of the buildings across the street from him cracked and shattered. There was a large silence as the broken glass broke on the ground below. Then, after a couple of seconds passed, the sounds of rioting broke out again and Kevin sighed.
"How do I get any peace and quiet?" He asked himself. He turned off his stereo, grabbed a beer, and turned on the tv to see if the rioting was dying down. What he saw surprised him greatly. He watched as a gunmanned raved about the rioting and told people interested to meet at the park. Then he watched as the man was shot at. After the 'Believe' was taken off the screen, Kevin turned off the tv. Now, here was a chance to deal with the constant annoying noise. He decided that he would have to show up, just to see if something was going to be done, or if he would just have to figure it out for himself. He waited in his apartment and drank, unable to sleep, until the meeting at the park was supposed to begin.
"How do I get any peace and quiet?" He asked himself. He turned off his stereo, grabbed a beer, and turned on the tv to see if the rioting was dying down. What he saw surprised him greatly. He watched as a gunmanned raved about the rioting and told people interested to meet at the park. Then he watched as the man was shot at. After the 'Believe' was taken off the screen, Kevin turned off the tv. Now, here was a chance to deal with the constant annoying noise. He decided that he would have to show up, just to see if something was going to be done, or if he would just have to figure it out for himself. He waited in his apartment and drank, unable to sleep, until the meeting at the park was supposed to begin.
OOC Notes
It was barely five past seven, and the crowds were already getting impatient. James checked his watch again, glancing around him for the familiar sight of Abi's red hair. Nothing. The crowd was far larger than he'd expected it to be. It'd started small, a few people drifting in at half past six, maybe a hundred or so in small clusters at quarter to seven. But come five to seven, the park had practically vibrated to the sounds of footsteps as the city streets disgorged a human river of rioters. Whether they'd seen the broadcast or simply heard something was going on in the park, there were now over two thousand people, by his rough estimate, clustered at the edge of the lake.
The mix was bizarre, almost all of the people here were under thirty, a good number in hats or hooded jumpers, but there were also a good number of men and women in business wear, and James was sure he'd seen an old woman with a zimmer frame being helped to one of the benches. Over to one side, a small group of police stood watch, maybe half of the twenty there dressed in full riot gear. Every so often, one would nervously recheck the pistol at his waist, eyes never leaving the heaving mass of humanity in front of them.
Eight minutes past seven. Where was she? Frowning, he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket, swiping at the screen with irritation, searching for her number. He was just about to raise it to his ear when a murmur passed through the crowd, heads snapping up as everyone came to attention, focused on someone up ahead. He exhaled, visibly relaxing, as a familiar face appeared over the heads of everyone, obviously standing atop of something, probably a bench.
Her voice didnt carry to where he was, but it didnt matter. He knew what she was going to say. A call to arms, much more inflammatory than the last piece. How the government had no recourse to its own citizens protesting. That the city was ill equipped to stop even a few thousand people from taking to the streets, despite the number of them that smashed windows, stole from stores, even assaulted lawmen. And that was without taking into account those among them who were empowered. Who were the government to force 'supers' to register themselves, merely for the crime of being born different, especially when many were far more capable than any man in office.
However far she'd got, it seemed to be working. Not from the crowds reaction, but from the police. They'd loosed the snaps on their holsters, drawn batons and pepper spray and were marching in a tight line towards Abi's position. Coming in from behind, two stepped up to her, calling her down from her pulpit, the others forming a cordon around them. She refused. James knew she would. He'd told her to, specifically, in case anything like this happened. One of the officers, still fresh faced and way out of his depth, stepped up, grabbing her wrist and dragging her down even as his colleague shouted not to.
Everything seemed to pause, a great and terrible stillness falling over the assembly, and then the crowd roared and surging forward as one. Though really only a few hundred people, it was still enough to sweep the police backwards like they were nothing. Shouting filled the air, followed by screams, both of the police and panicking people, surrounded by fleeing and fighting rioters.
In the middle of it all, James spread his arms, revelling in the chaos and oblivious to the people knocking into him as they tried to leave the scene. Maybe this was excessive. Certainly illegal, but the city had to burn. It was far too far gone now. Too corrupt. Too full of filth. Only from the ashes could it ever be reborn anew, and he would watch the flames flicker higher even if they consumed him with them.
The mix was bizarre, almost all of the people here were under thirty, a good number in hats or hooded jumpers, but there were also a good number of men and women in business wear, and James was sure he'd seen an old woman with a zimmer frame being helped to one of the benches. Over to one side, a small group of police stood watch, maybe half of the twenty there dressed in full riot gear. Every so often, one would nervously recheck the pistol at his waist, eyes never leaving the heaving mass of humanity in front of them.
Eight minutes past seven. Where was she? Frowning, he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket, swiping at the screen with irritation, searching for her number. He was just about to raise it to his ear when a murmur passed through the crowd, heads snapping up as everyone came to attention, focused on someone up ahead. He exhaled, visibly relaxing, as a familiar face appeared over the heads of everyone, obviously standing atop of something, probably a bench.
Her voice didnt carry to where he was, but it didnt matter. He knew what she was going to say. A call to arms, much more inflammatory than the last piece. How the government had no recourse to its own citizens protesting. That the city was ill equipped to stop even a few thousand people from taking to the streets, despite the number of them that smashed windows, stole from stores, even assaulted lawmen. And that was without taking into account those among them who were empowered. Who were the government to force 'supers' to register themselves, merely for the crime of being born different, especially when many were far more capable than any man in office.
However far she'd got, it seemed to be working. Not from the crowds reaction, but from the police. They'd loosed the snaps on their holsters, drawn batons and pepper spray and were marching in a tight line towards Abi's position. Coming in from behind, two stepped up to her, calling her down from her pulpit, the others forming a cordon around them. She refused. James knew she would. He'd told her to, specifically, in case anything like this happened. One of the officers, still fresh faced and way out of his depth, stepped up, grabbing her wrist and dragging her down even as his colleague shouted not to.
Everything seemed to pause, a great and terrible stillness falling over the assembly, and then the crowd roared and surging forward as one. Though really only a few hundred people, it was still enough to sweep the police backwards like they were nothing. Shouting filled the air, followed by screams, both of the police and panicking people, surrounded by fleeing and fighting rioters.
In the middle of it all, James spread his arms, revelling in the chaos and oblivious to the people knocking into him as they tried to leave the scene. Maybe this was excessive. Certainly illegal, but the city had to burn. It was far too far gone now. Too corrupt. Too full of filth. Only from the ashes could it ever be reborn anew, and he would watch the flames flicker higher even if they consumed him with them.
OOC Notes
Lori always followed her schedule Monday through Friday. She had her reasons. She wasn’t your conventional super. She didn’t enter the night and do good, or bad. She was the ultimate source of any information you may need. Be it black-mail, location, a description, his emotions, what he did for a living. Give her week to watch this person and she could see the password to his computer, his favorite cereal, or ice-cream. Send your request and she’ll answer. For a price that is. She didn’t live in a designer apartment just because she took extremely good pictures. No, you’d be surprised how much a curious wife would pay just to make sure her husband wasn’t cheating.
That’s not to say you walk right up to her and ask. Oh, dear no. That would defeat the point of having a secret identity. No you find one of three people. Her contacts. That is not to say they know who she is either, no. They take requests, along with the money -ahead of time-, then they leave it at one of five drops. They must however draw a yellow line on each to inform her that there was a request, and then she left a blue one when the request was answered.
It was an annoying process to say the least, however it was required. It was also required that her informants (whom she could recognized from a very far distance) left the area. She was careful. She checked for the position of each and every one before she picked up the drop.
As to the people who wished to find them, at 9 o’clock each and every night they could be found at three different bars. They themselves may or may not have fake names. She knew not whether the names they had were real or not, however she hardly cared. Jackson –no last name-, Brendan Anthony, and Sky. The last one ironically enough happens to be the only one she knows for sure is his real name. She was curious, she couldn’t help it.
Either way, she had this schedule so that she passed each drop each and every day at the same exact time. Today, at the center city drop, under the seat at one of the many subway stops, there was a yellow line. Interesting. This was the only drop she didn’t have to scan the area with her special sight for. It was small and no one was there. She was quick and sly. She passed it and slipped the envelope out from under the seat. No one noticed, no one could. No one could see what they weren’t there to see, well no one except Lori.
Then she boarded the train arriving at the very nice, very expensive, members only gym around four, just like always. There she changed into her gym clothes and used some of their equipment, but only for thirty minutes. She was, after all, not an exercise freak. However, she would at least jog home. Jog home through the park. Well, she would jog home just like she did every evening. Today, however, she would deviate from her usual schedule. She would stay in the park until seven o’clock. It was a long time to wait, however if she was there before the one that ‘find them’ she would not seem to be anything more than an onlooker, reading a book.
She reached the park at…honestly she didn’t know however there wasn’t much more there then a bunch of dog, some joggers, and a couple of families. She sat on a bench, near the lake. She could at least have an excellent view while she waited.
From her purse she pulled out a classic book, The Picture of Dorian Grey, one of her three all-time favorite books the others being Frankenstein, and Scar Night. An unspoken gift from heaven. Books. Of course, she couldn’t read anything without some reading glasses, so she pulled out her GiGlis and waited whilst reading.
At the end, of the book that is, she began to feel a mass amount of emotions, mainly anger and curiosity. It felt like the angry, rampaging, mob (otherwise known as the rioters) had showed up. So she looked up only to find herself completely surrounded by the said mob. No doubt she had gotten lost in her excellent book.
From where she was she could see a single head pop up and out from the others. This person, no doubt was standing on something. Anyone who wasn’t a complete idiot would know she was about to speak. Everything she spoke about really meant nothing to her. Especially the act. The new act didn’t affect her since no one knew she was anything but a mysteriously well off citizen. Though the emotions of the crowd were stirring, more than likely in the hopes of possible violence, it didn’t seem as though anything would happen.
Lori was proven wrong. Chaos broke out when a very stupid and young police officer seemed to grab the wrist of the speaker. People got mad, and others got scared. Some ran at the officers, others ran away from the officers. She didn’t know who, all she did know however, was that she was getting beaten by flying limbs left and right. That and someone in the middle of all this chaos certainly seemed happy. A very attractive someone. Not that that mattered. He wasn’t so attractive as to impress her, but certainly better looking than most everyone here. Too bad he seemed to be a psychopath.
((Here is a picture of her GiGli’s.))
That’s not to say you walk right up to her and ask. Oh, dear no. That would defeat the point of having a secret identity. No you find one of three people. Her contacts. That is not to say they know who she is either, no. They take requests, along with the money -ahead of time-, then they leave it at one of five drops. They must however draw a yellow line on each to inform her that there was a request, and then she left a blue one when the request was answered.
It was an annoying process to say the least, however it was required. It was also required that her informants (whom she could recognized from a very far distance) left the area. She was careful. She checked for the position of each and every one before she picked up the drop.
As to the people who wished to find them, at 9 o’clock each and every night they could be found at three different bars. They themselves may or may not have fake names. She knew not whether the names they had were real or not, however she hardly cared. Jackson –no last name-, Brendan Anthony, and Sky. The last one ironically enough happens to be the only one she knows for sure is his real name. She was curious, she couldn’t help it.
Either way, she had this schedule so that she passed each drop each and every day at the same exact time. Today, at the center city drop, under the seat at one of the many subway stops, there was a yellow line. Interesting. This was the only drop she didn’t have to scan the area with her special sight for. It was small and no one was there. She was quick and sly. She passed it and slipped the envelope out from under the seat. No one noticed, no one could. No one could see what they weren’t there to see, well no one except Lori.
Then she boarded the train arriving at the very nice, very expensive, members only gym around four, just like always. There she changed into her gym clothes and used some of their equipment, but only for thirty minutes. She was, after all, not an exercise freak. However, she would at least jog home. Jog home through the park. Well, she would jog home just like she did every evening. Today, however, she would deviate from her usual schedule. She would stay in the park until seven o’clock. It was a long time to wait, however if she was there before the one that ‘find them’ she would not seem to be anything more than an onlooker, reading a book.
She reached the park at…honestly she didn’t know however there wasn’t much more there then a bunch of dog, some joggers, and a couple of families. She sat on a bench, near the lake. She could at least have an excellent view while she waited.
From her purse she pulled out a classic book, The Picture of Dorian Grey, one of her three all-time favorite books the others being Frankenstein, and Scar Night. An unspoken gift from heaven. Books. Of course, she couldn’t read anything without some reading glasses, so she pulled out her GiGlis and waited whilst reading.
At the end, of the book that is, she began to feel a mass amount of emotions, mainly anger and curiosity. It felt like the angry, rampaging, mob (otherwise known as the rioters) had showed up. So she looked up only to find herself completely surrounded by the said mob. No doubt she had gotten lost in her excellent book.
From where she was she could see a single head pop up and out from the others. This person, no doubt was standing on something. Anyone who wasn’t a complete idiot would know she was about to speak. Everything she spoke about really meant nothing to her. Especially the act. The new act didn’t affect her since no one knew she was anything but a mysteriously well off citizen. Though the emotions of the crowd were stirring, more than likely in the hopes of possible violence, it didn’t seem as though anything would happen.
Lori was proven wrong. Chaos broke out when a very stupid and young police officer seemed to grab the wrist of the speaker. People got mad, and others got scared. Some ran at the officers, others ran away from the officers. She didn’t know who, all she did know however, was that she was getting beaten by flying limbs left and right. That and someone in the middle of all this chaos certainly seemed happy. A very attractive someone. Not that that mattered. He wasn’t so attractive as to impress her, but certainly better looking than most everyone here. Too bad he seemed to be a psychopath.
((Here is a picture of her GiGli’s.))
OOC Notes
Using his special hearing, Kevin had been able to listen in on the woman's speach from afar. She really seemed to care about the plight of the 'supers' and yet it was almost obvious she wasn't one. He shrugged inwardly, he didn't really care because he had already registered. He usually never used his more 'visible' powers outside of his job or when traveling. (He'd never needed to pay a bus or taxi fair.)
What he did care about was whether or not this woman would stop the rioting so that he could get some much needed sleep. He realized that the opposite was going to happen when people in the crowd attacked the police there.
He sighed...maybe he'd have to do something about the rioting by himself. He wondered what he would have to do to stop it. After thinking for a few minutes he turned and walked away, unwilling to be noticed he went into a dark alley. From there he stomped on the ground and forced himself into the air. The sound of a jet engine echoed through the city as Kevin propulsed himself home.
What he did care about was whether or not this woman would stop the rioting so that he could get some much needed sleep. He realized that the opposite was going to happen when people in the crowd attacked the police there.
He sighed...maybe he'd have to do something about the rioting by himself. He wondered what he would have to do to stop it. After thinking for a few minutes he turned and walked away, unwilling to be noticed he went into a dark alley. From there he stomped on the ground and forced himself into the air. The sound of a jet engine echoed through the city as Kevin propulsed himself home.
OOC Notes
Drip, schlop, drip, schlop, drip, schlop.
Black tar like sludge dripped off of the edge of the bed onto the dark red apartment rug, soaking it in a disgusting puddle. Light seeping through the window slightly illuminated the apartment, but the tar was dark as a cloudy night. It was if the slime was a black hole, absorbing and crushing the light. The light did light up one thing, and that was the dishevelled man lying fully clothed on the bed, Sage. He too was covered in the black sludge, his clothing was full of it, and it rose up in small fuzzy hills like a fungus. Small winding feelers sprouted from the slime, flicking about, taking in information like smells and feels. He was encased like a tainted caterpillar, waiting to erupt in its new form. Though the creature hiding in the chrysalis was no butterfly, he wasn't the same man that had gone to bed early the same morning. As a black feeler slithered across his stubbled face, Sage awoke gently. As he woke, so did the beast inside him.
His eyelids flickering open, he first noticed a small black thing crawling about on his face. Spasming and flailing, Sage attempted to dislodge what he thought was a spider crawling on his face. The feeler retracted, frightened by the flailing, into the black writing mass. With horror, Sage looked down upon the slop stealing his torso. He tried brushing it off, but it reacted to his hand, wrapping it as well. Crawling up his arm and onto his face, Sage screamed wildly, trying to remove the alien presence. It spread rapidly, like high speed footage of mould, onto his face and into his mouth, smothering and choking him. Spinning wildly, Sage noticed himself in the full body mirror. It looked as if he was clothed in a black slimy body suit. As it covered his eyes, Sage realized he could still see through them. Reeling in surprise, he also noticed he could breathe properly through his coated throat and nose. Panting, he examined himself further. He looked like some sort of Swamp Beast. The Creature of the Black Lagoon. Not bulky though, he looked lithe, and the covering was tight and organic, reacting to his mood and thoughts. Wondering at the marvel that was once his normal body, he was suddenly interupted by a loud gunshot.
The riots had started up again in some other part of the city nearby. For some odd, unexplainable reason, he wanted to get involved. He wanted to destory something, to... feed? What was this? What was the horror inexplicable urge in his gut? Shaking off the odd thoughts like mosquitoes, he cleared his thoughts. What was he going to do now? He knew he wanted to play in the riots, but he wasn't sure what this stuff was, or what it did. He opened the blinds quickly, and was struck by a blinding horrible pain. It sped throughout his whole body, through his core and through his extremities, rocking his neurons like so many vicious beestings. Falling to his knees in the ray of light, he screamed, a low guttural sound, watery and choked. Burning sensations filled his senses as he lay there in the fetal position, for what felt like forever. Getting to his feet, he was disapointed to find the slime had burnt away, falling to the ground in nasty brown flakes. This also relieved him, but he knew it would grow again. The pain continued, but not on his person. When war veterans lose limbs, years later, they feel them as though they were still there. This is what he imagined it would be like. He heard a burning hiss, and found that the sludge on the bed was turning brown, also exposed to the sun.
Closing the blinds, the pain stopped. Freaky shit. He decided it would be beneficial to him and the slime he was supposedly caring for to leave them in the dark. He left through the front door and made his way to the source of the noise, using dark alleys to make his way to the commotion.
Black tar like sludge dripped off of the edge of the bed onto the dark red apartment rug, soaking it in a disgusting puddle. Light seeping through the window slightly illuminated the apartment, but the tar was dark as a cloudy night. It was if the slime was a black hole, absorbing and crushing the light. The light did light up one thing, and that was the dishevelled man lying fully clothed on the bed, Sage. He too was covered in the black sludge, his clothing was full of it, and it rose up in small fuzzy hills like a fungus. Small winding feelers sprouted from the slime, flicking about, taking in information like smells and feels. He was encased like a tainted caterpillar, waiting to erupt in its new form. Though the creature hiding in the chrysalis was no butterfly, he wasn't the same man that had gone to bed early the same morning. As a black feeler slithered across his stubbled face, Sage awoke gently. As he woke, so did the beast inside him.
His eyelids flickering open, he first noticed a small black thing crawling about on his face. Spasming and flailing, Sage attempted to dislodge what he thought was a spider crawling on his face. The feeler retracted, frightened by the flailing, into the black writing mass. With horror, Sage looked down upon the slop stealing his torso. He tried brushing it off, but it reacted to his hand, wrapping it as well. Crawling up his arm and onto his face, Sage screamed wildly, trying to remove the alien presence. It spread rapidly, like high speed footage of mould, onto his face and into his mouth, smothering and choking him. Spinning wildly, Sage noticed himself in the full body mirror. It looked as if he was clothed in a black slimy body suit. As it covered his eyes, Sage realized he could still see through them. Reeling in surprise, he also noticed he could breathe properly through his coated throat and nose. Panting, he examined himself further. He looked like some sort of Swamp Beast. The Creature of the Black Lagoon. Not bulky though, he looked lithe, and the covering was tight and organic, reacting to his mood and thoughts. Wondering at the marvel that was once his normal body, he was suddenly interupted by a loud gunshot.
The riots had started up again in some other part of the city nearby. For some odd, unexplainable reason, he wanted to get involved. He wanted to destory something, to... feed? What was this? What was the horror inexplicable urge in his gut? Shaking off the odd thoughts like mosquitoes, he cleared his thoughts. What was he going to do now? He knew he wanted to play in the riots, but he wasn't sure what this stuff was, or what it did. He opened the blinds quickly, and was struck by a blinding horrible pain. It sped throughout his whole body, through his core and through his extremities, rocking his neurons like so many vicious beestings. Falling to his knees in the ray of light, he screamed, a low guttural sound, watery and choked. Burning sensations filled his senses as he lay there in the fetal position, for what felt like forever. Getting to his feet, he was disapointed to find the slime had burnt away, falling to the ground in nasty brown flakes. This also relieved him, but he knew it would grow again. The pain continued, but not on his person. When war veterans lose limbs, years later, they feel them as though they were still there. This is what he imagined it would be like. He heard a burning hiss, and found that the sludge on the bed was turning brown, also exposed to the sun.
Closing the blinds, the pain stopped. Freaky shit. He decided it would be beneficial to him and the slime he was supposedly caring for to leave them in the dark. He left through the front door and made his way to the source of the noise, using dark alleys to make his way to the commotion.
OOC Notes
"You're fucking useless, you know that?" A low, scratchy, raspy female voice pierced the air, far removed from the scene at the park in the upper levels of Las Vegas.
Through the haze of blood, pain, and a severely swollen eye, the man forced himself to look up into the face of the woman currently forcing his back to the grimy, stained brick wall of the slum backalley; her forearm was pushing, quite painfully, against his throat, feeling the cold leather pressed against his jugular. Judging by her expression, she was clearly not too happy with the state of things--an assumption that could just as easily have been concluded from the angry snarl with which she spoke, or, indeed, the fact she had done more talking with her fists by this point.
"I told you...everything I saw...everything I know..." he sputtered hopelessly, fully aware his responce was only going to piss the woman off more.
"You told me he was male, wore aviators, and was of average height after he changed!" Izzie angrily snapped, increasing the pressure. "You might as well have told me you didn't know shit that could be useful to me to begin with."
"I did!" the man protested weakly. At this point, she already knew that was all she would be getting out of the guy--continuing to beat him up was more a principle of how pissed she was about that fact. She was never going to find the one responsible for this if all she had to go on was 'male, wore aviators at one point, and is of average height'. Hell, all of that could just as easily change in a heartbeat. The longer she tried to keep on the yet unnamed assailant's trail, the more it seemed pointless to try to chase someone who, it seemed, could take any form that they encountered--when she really thought about it (and she rarely did so about anything she did) it became apparent this was becoming a wild-goose chase.
Not that Izzie was going to let that deter her. She'd never been one to let actual logic stop her from trying to get what she wanted.
She released the man, allowing him to slide down the brick wall as he heaved a heavy, ragged breath. "This is fucking pointless," he heard her growl in an undertone, though he was far more concerned with his own problems at the moment than those of a woman he didn't even remotely know--markedly, the rather numerous bruises and gashes she had inflicted upon him, apparently for no other reason than that he couldn't help her with whatever the hell it was she was trying to accomplish.
This is pointless. I'm never gonna find this asshole like this, she thought, clenching her fists. Now that she thought of it, trying to get information out of the man groaning in pain against the wall behind her seemed foolish and purposeless in retrospect--in fact, she had probably only decided to grab the bastard because she really had no actual leads. How do you like that...a completely ordinary guy managed to help me out--me, someone who's never needed anybody else. And now that I have a chance to return the favour I have no idea where to start. All she had to go on was that whoever was responsible for it was able to take the form of others...which meant, barring any and all restrictions and/or added effects that Izzie did not know of, he could essentially be anyone.
She started to grit her teeth in agitation as the fruitlessness of trying to find the person who had attacked one of her few contacts in the underworld and taken their form came full circle again. Most of the time she didn't bother with the thinking--charging straight into the situation with whatever her instincts told her to do was typically her solution to any problem. Neither was really working for her at this point.
Behind her, the man staggered up to his feet and then began to shuffle away into one of the side alleys--Izzie didn't spare another glance to him. He had served his purpose of being her momentary punching bag, in the absence of any actual progress or leads. She pulled up a bit on the collar of the slightly dirtied, pockmarked leather jacket that clung to her upper body, before simply removing it entirely and slinging it over her shoulder, revealing a tight black tank-top shirt that showcased various tattoos rolling over visible muscles in her arms. Her boots crunched across the concrete ground, littered with tiny, loose stones and gravel, as she walked towards the exit of the alleyway, out into the underworld of Neo Las Vegas.
Through the haze of blood, pain, and a severely swollen eye, the man forced himself to look up into the face of the woman currently forcing his back to the grimy, stained brick wall of the slum backalley; her forearm was pushing, quite painfully, against his throat, feeling the cold leather pressed against his jugular. Judging by her expression, she was clearly not too happy with the state of things--an assumption that could just as easily have been concluded from the angry snarl with which she spoke, or, indeed, the fact she had done more talking with her fists by this point.
"I told you...everything I saw...everything I know..." he sputtered hopelessly, fully aware his responce was only going to piss the woman off more.
"You told me he was male, wore aviators, and was of average height after he changed!" Izzie angrily snapped, increasing the pressure. "You might as well have told me you didn't know shit that could be useful to me to begin with."
"I did!" the man protested weakly. At this point, she already knew that was all she would be getting out of the guy--continuing to beat him up was more a principle of how pissed she was about that fact. She was never going to find the one responsible for this if all she had to go on was 'male, wore aviators at one point, and is of average height'. Hell, all of that could just as easily change in a heartbeat. The longer she tried to keep on the yet unnamed assailant's trail, the more it seemed pointless to try to chase someone who, it seemed, could take any form that they encountered--when she really thought about it (and she rarely did so about anything she did) it became apparent this was becoming a wild-goose chase.
Not that Izzie was going to let that deter her. She'd never been one to let actual logic stop her from trying to get what she wanted.
She released the man, allowing him to slide down the brick wall as he heaved a heavy, ragged breath. "This is fucking pointless," he heard her growl in an undertone, though he was far more concerned with his own problems at the moment than those of a woman he didn't even remotely know--markedly, the rather numerous bruises and gashes she had inflicted upon him, apparently for no other reason than that he couldn't help her with whatever the hell it was she was trying to accomplish.
This is pointless. I'm never gonna find this asshole like this, she thought, clenching her fists. Now that she thought of it, trying to get information out of the man groaning in pain against the wall behind her seemed foolish and purposeless in retrospect--in fact, she had probably only decided to grab the bastard because she really had no actual leads. How do you like that...a completely ordinary guy managed to help me out--me, someone who's never needed anybody else. And now that I have a chance to return the favour I have no idea where to start. All she had to go on was that whoever was responsible for it was able to take the form of others...which meant, barring any and all restrictions and/or added effects that Izzie did not know of, he could essentially be anyone.
She started to grit her teeth in agitation as the fruitlessness of trying to find the person who had attacked one of her few contacts in the underworld and taken their form came full circle again. Most of the time she didn't bother with the thinking--charging straight into the situation with whatever her instincts told her to do was typically her solution to any problem. Neither was really working for her at this point.
Behind her, the man staggered up to his feet and then began to shuffle away into one of the side alleys--Izzie didn't spare another glance to him. He had served his purpose of being her momentary punching bag, in the absence of any actual progress or leads. She pulled up a bit on the collar of the slightly dirtied, pockmarked leather jacket that clung to her upper body, before simply removing it entirely and slinging it over her shoulder, revealing a tight black tank-top shirt that showcased various tattoos rolling over visible muscles in her arms. Her boots crunched across the concrete ground, littered with tiny, loose stones and gravel, as she walked towards the exit of the alleyway, out into the underworld of Neo Las Vegas.
OOC Notes
In the shadows of the back alley stood a man of average height. On his face he wore aviators, and on his body he wore a blue suit, covered in stitches. This was the same man that a certain tattooed female badass was looking for. He had been reverted out of a different form when she walked past him earlier, but lucky for him, no one was really paying attention to the back alleys, including her. He noticed her heading into the same back alley that he was in, only in a different place. The man, who had been wearing women's clothing before, had decided to change back into his dark blue suit, and left the women's clothing behind in a nearby dumpster. He watched as the strange power-dispelling woman beat the shit out of a man, looking for info.
After the beating had concluded, and the woman began to walk away, Duncan noticed that the beaten man was heading directly to him. He decided to use the injured man for his own personal gain. Hopping into a nearby dumpster, he changed into a woman he had recently mugged, and attempted to trick the man into looking in the dumpster. And by that, I mean Duncan merely made the sounds of moaning, since technically that's all he had heard of the woman's voice prior to taking her form. Duncan sat in the large rectangular tin can and waited to see if his plan had worked.
As it turns out, it did. The man, curious and a little turned on, walked over to the dumpster and looked inside, only to be greeted by a swift punch to the face. Duncan had changed back into himself again, groaning a little as he did so. The man looked up in fear as Duncan pulled himself out of the dumpster, and with a slightly sinister grin on his face, walked straight up to the man, and stomped on his face. The man was nearly unconscious, but Duncan made sure he stayed awake.
"I see that I'm getting quite popular around here, hehe." Duncan laughed, "And you're just the person I need to help me become even more popular. Are you in, or are you out? I'm sure that if you say no, no one will really care if an ordinary guy like you just suddenly went.. missing."
Offering the man a hand, Duncan awaited his answer. The man was weak, but he used whatever strength he had left in him to grab Duncan's hand. The grin on Duncan's face grew wider as he pulled the man up onto his feet, and allowing the man to lean on Duncan as he walked him out of the back alley. On the way there, he whispered into the man's ear.
"Okay, so what I want you to do is spread rumours about me, a mugger who can change his shape. And if they ask if that mugger has a name, tell them it's.." Duncan stopped for a moment and pondered through his memory any songs he could think of that could be relevant. After a few minutes, his grin became even wider as he finally replied, "...The Changeling."
After that, he got help for the man and he was whisked away to a hospital. But before Duncan could disappear back into the alleys he had grown so accustomed to, a young girl looked up at Duncan.
"Thank you." was the only thing she said before skipping away to her mother, who was supposedly in tears.
Duncan assumed they were the man's family, and he allowed himself to smile slightly. The girl, turned back to smile at the man who had saved her papa, but the man was already gone.
After the beating had concluded, and the woman began to walk away, Duncan noticed that the beaten man was heading directly to him. He decided to use the injured man for his own personal gain. Hopping into a nearby dumpster, he changed into a woman he had recently mugged, and attempted to trick the man into looking in the dumpster. And by that, I mean Duncan merely made the sounds of moaning, since technically that's all he had heard of the woman's voice prior to taking her form. Duncan sat in the large rectangular tin can and waited to see if his plan had worked.
As it turns out, it did. The man, curious and a little turned on, walked over to the dumpster and looked inside, only to be greeted by a swift punch to the face. Duncan had changed back into himself again, groaning a little as he did so. The man looked up in fear as Duncan pulled himself out of the dumpster, and with a slightly sinister grin on his face, walked straight up to the man, and stomped on his face. The man was nearly unconscious, but Duncan made sure he stayed awake.
"I see that I'm getting quite popular around here, hehe." Duncan laughed, "And you're just the person I need to help me become even more popular. Are you in, or are you out? I'm sure that if you say no, no one will really care if an ordinary guy like you just suddenly went.. missing."
Offering the man a hand, Duncan awaited his answer. The man was weak, but he used whatever strength he had left in him to grab Duncan's hand. The grin on Duncan's face grew wider as he pulled the man up onto his feet, and allowing the man to lean on Duncan as he walked him out of the back alley. On the way there, he whispered into the man's ear.
"Okay, so what I want you to do is spread rumours about me, a mugger who can change his shape. And if they ask if that mugger has a name, tell them it's.." Duncan stopped for a moment and pondered through his memory any songs he could think of that could be relevant. After a few minutes, his grin became even wider as he finally replied, "...The Changeling."
After that, he got help for the man and he was whisked away to a hospital. But before Duncan could disappear back into the alleys he had grown so accustomed to, a young girl looked up at Duncan.
"Thank you." was the only thing she said before skipping away to her mother, who was supposedly in tears.
Duncan assumed they were the man's family, and he allowed himself to smile slightly. The girl, turned back to smile at the man who had saved her papa, but the man was already gone.
OOC Notes
Sage ran into the alley, staggering in the sudden sunlight. His skin hissed, smoking profusely. He fell to his knees once again, watching the black ooze burn and regrow, burn and regrow. Pitifully, it fought against the sunlight in vain. With some concentration, he realized he could stem the growth of the ooze, to the point that it would not visibly grow. He stood up again, finding the sunlight less painful on his normal human skin than on the protusive slime.
He found the sunlight annoying, but not the sheer agony it was a few minutes ago. A light burn was all he felt, and he found it a bearable cost for the gentle heat on his face. Scurrying into the nearest alley, Sage wound his way through the city, following the sounds of chaos. He couldn't help but notice that the people of Vegas had not yet ceased their adulteries and violence. He witnessed several muggings and attacks, and it was a strange minute when a prostitute did not offer herself for money. The further we went, the more violent and less sexually casual these crimes became. It seems the riotious spirit had spread slightly, extending it's cancerous tentacles into the psyche of the mob.
Then he felt it. A woman was hitting some poor sap in an alley, growling away at him. She was different though. As he passed, hidden, he felt something inside him change. The sunlight no longer burnt him for a short moment, and the black sludge seemed to stop its growth. The hidden energy inside him disipated and he was left powerless. The farther we went towards her, and then past her, he found the sludge had restarted. Strange, he thought. What was she?
Shaking the daze, he ran away from her as fast as he could, frightened by what just happened. He felt violated. She had somehow taken something that was special to him, something unique. What was more frightening, he didn't think she realized it, or cared. This made him more frightened. Did she know? Was it intentional? Crashing against trashcans and dumpsters, he ran until he got to the crowds of rioters, and didn't stop along the way.
He found the sunlight annoying, but not the sheer agony it was a few minutes ago. A light burn was all he felt, and he found it a bearable cost for the gentle heat on his face. Scurrying into the nearest alley, Sage wound his way through the city, following the sounds of chaos. He couldn't help but notice that the people of Vegas had not yet ceased their adulteries and violence. He witnessed several muggings and attacks, and it was a strange minute when a prostitute did not offer herself for money. The further we went, the more violent and less sexually casual these crimes became. It seems the riotious spirit had spread slightly, extending it's cancerous tentacles into the psyche of the mob.
Then he felt it. A woman was hitting some poor sap in an alley, growling away at him. She was different though. As he passed, hidden, he felt something inside him change. The sunlight no longer burnt him for a short moment, and the black sludge seemed to stop its growth. The hidden energy inside him disipated and he was left powerless. The farther we went towards her, and then past her, he found the sludge had restarted. Strange, he thought. What was she?
Shaking the daze, he ran away from her as fast as he could, frightened by what just happened. He felt violated. She had somehow taken something that was special to him, something unique. What was more frightening, he didn't think she realized it, or cared. This made him more frightened. Did she know? Was it intentional? Crashing against trashcans and dumpsters, he ran until he got to the crowds of rioters, and didn't stop along the way.
OOC Notes
Most of the crowd had fled. Only maybe one hundred of the braver, or stupider, rioters still milled around the park, tearing trashcans out of their housings, a few defacing one of the monuments, the majority crowded around the fallen policemen. Completely oblivious to the girl who had been watching him so intently, James pushed himself to the front, snarling at anyone who tried to stop him, until he was staring down at the broken, whimpering officers. A few of the men around him held pistols and batons, trophies torn from battered hands, the expressions on their faces more suited to wild beasts than men.
Staring down at the men, he felt nothing but contempt. These lawmen, these supposed peacekeepers, had failed again. Not only had they been unable to protect his family when they needed him most, but they couldnt even protect themselves. It was pathetic. So many people bought into the facade of safety, thinking that the regulations set in place by government mandate would keep them secure, as long as they just followed the rules and kept their head down. Well, looks like that was complete bullshit. A few hundred people decide to stand up and do something and look at how the world just fell apart. Of couse, there would be repercussions. No doubt the response would be stronger, there was no way this would be allowed to happen again, but it didnt matter. This was the catalyst, the act that would set the city in motion against itself. The key.
"So, what we gonna do with them, man?"
Someone was talking to his right, a short, stocky mexican guy holding a can of pepper spray, his face hidden behind a bandana. Another man answered, his blond hair standing out against the tattoos that covered his face. "I dunno. I mean, I suppose we just leave 'em here."
James met the eyes of one of the police, the guy who had grabbed Abigail's arm and started this whole mess. Closer to, it was obvious the kid was barely out of his teens, if at all, his soft features full of fear and pain. James felt nothing for him. This situation was his fault. He should have been there that night. Someone should have been there to stop what happened. Another wave of anger rushed though him, and James clenched his fists, stepping into the centre of the close circle and raising his voice.
"No. We cant leave them here."
The mexican guy started to laugh, gesturing to the others around him. He opened his mouth to speak, still laughing, until James turned on him and screamed "Shut the fuck up!" clear in his face. No one moved, the entire assembly falling silent, tension palpable in the air, until the other man broke eye contact, lowering his head and mumbling "Sorry, man," under his breath.
Stabbing a finger down at the policemen, barely believing that had worked, he span to face the others, eyes roving across the people around him. "They've seen some of your faces. They know what you look like. You think you're gonna get away with this?"
"So you think killing these pigs is gonna make things better? You crazy." The voice came from somewhere near the back of the group, and James strained to find the owner, squinting in the failing light. "Look around you. Look at what's going on. The city is falling apart. The police cant even contain a few rioters. You think they could stop a real rebellion?" He paused, expression dark as he looked back at the beaten officers, voice low.
"No. What you need is a symbol. Something to let everyone know that this is your city now."
"We interrupt this broadcast to bring you breaking news. In a radical move, prompted by the hanging of three Las Vegas police officers in Sunset Park this evening, Congress has agreed to call in the national guard and declared martial law over the city of Las Vegas. Two regiments are already en route, with Gen. Coleman already discussing an imposed curfew and the possible deployment of less lethal weapons with Mayor Hargreaves. According to eyewitnesses at the scene in the park..."
Staring down at the men, he felt nothing but contempt. These lawmen, these supposed peacekeepers, had failed again. Not only had they been unable to protect his family when they needed him most, but they couldnt even protect themselves. It was pathetic. So many people bought into the facade of safety, thinking that the regulations set in place by government mandate would keep them secure, as long as they just followed the rules and kept their head down. Well, looks like that was complete bullshit. A few hundred people decide to stand up and do something and look at how the world just fell apart. Of couse, there would be repercussions. No doubt the response would be stronger, there was no way this would be allowed to happen again, but it didnt matter. This was the catalyst, the act that would set the city in motion against itself. The key.
"So, what we gonna do with them, man?"
Someone was talking to his right, a short, stocky mexican guy holding a can of pepper spray, his face hidden behind a bandana. Another man answered, his blond hair standing out against the tattoos that covered his face. "I dunno. I mean, I suppose we just leave 'em here."
James met the eyes of one of the police, the guy who had grabbed Abigail's arm and started this whole mess. Closer to, it was obvious the kid was barely out of his teens, if at all, his soft features full of fear and pain. James felt nothing for him. This situation was his fault. He should have been there that night. Someone should have been there to stop what happened. Another wave of anger rushed though him, and James clenched his fists, stepping into the centre of the close circle and raising his voice.
"No. We cant leave them here."
The mexican guy started to laugh, gesturing to the others around him. He opened his mouth to speak, still laughing, until James turned on him and screamed "Shut the fuck up!" clear in his face. No one moved, the entire assembly falling silent, tension palpable in the air, until the other man broke eye contact, lowering his head and mumbling "Sorry, man," under his breath.
Stabbing a finger down at the policemen, barely believing that had worked, he span to face the others, eyes roving across the people around him. "They've seen some of your faces. They know what you look like. You think you're gonna get away with this?"
"So you think killing these pigs is gonna make things better? You crazy." The voice came from somewhere near the back of the group, and James strained to find the owner, squinting in the failing light. "Look around you. Look at what's going on. The city is falling apart. The police cant even contain a few rioters. You think they could stop a real rebellion?" He paused, expression dark as he looked back at the beaten officers, voice low.
"No. What you need is a symbol. Something to let everyone know that this is your city now."
"We interrupt this broadcast to bring you breaking news. In a radical move, prompted by the hanging of three Las Vegas police officers in Sunset Park this evening, Congress has agreed to call in the national guard and declared martial law over the city of Las Vegas. Two regiments are already en route, with Gen. Coleman already discussing an imposed curfew and the possible deployment of less lethal weapons with Mayor Hargreaves. According to eyewitnesses at the scene in the park..."
OOC Notes
Martial law. Great. That royally pissed Kevin off. How was he supposed to get any time to party now that everything was going batshit crazy? He'd decided that enough was enough. The national guard wasn't going to be able to do anything, not unless they were going to shoot unarmed citizens. Kevin hated that idea, not because he cared about the people but because all that loud shooting would make it completely impossible to sleep. He sat on his bed as he listened to the rioting and the sounds of many large vehicles approaching from a distance. His ears pounded with the constant sound and he regretted his decision to not buy soundproof walling, no matter how expensive that stuff was. Over all, Kevin was really annoyed. He couldn't sleep and he couldn't party.
Then he realized that with martial law on, nobody would pay to watch him make music, nobody would even watch him! Now the government was going to step in, take away his party time and all of his income. He realized that his three favorite things were taken away by these riot. He would have no money, no parties, and he couldn't make music. Those douchbags! He stood up, the government was not something he could fight, but the rioters? He was going to stomp them down until they couldn't even yelp.
Kevin looked around his apartment. He found his drumsticks and put as many of them as he could fit in the sheath on his back. Then he went to the roof of the building and looked around. He saw smoke and heard a few rioters nearby. It was time for him to try out some combat.
Then he realized that with martial law on, nobody would pay to watch him make music, nobody would even watch him! Now the government was going to step in, take away his party time and all of his income. He realized that his three favorite things were taken away by these riot. He would have no money, no parties, and he couldn't make music. Those douchbags! He stood up, the government was not something he could fight, but the rioters? He was going to stomp them down until they couldn't even yelp.
Kevin looked around his apartment. He found his drumsticks and put as many of them as he could fit in the sheath on his back. Then he went to the roof of the building and looked around. He saw smoke and heard a few rioters nearby. It was time for him to try out some combat.
OOC Notes
The night was approaching extremely fast. Already, stars winked and twinkled at the violence below. Sage was happy. The night was beautiful. Up there, the stars could care less if hell was breaking loose on this little rock. The universe was indifferent to whatever happened here, in the end, man was utterly insignificant. If we all died tonight, it would never impact the future of the thousand suns, who dimly lit the city with their old photographs.
It was under these fires that the sick ooze grew. Long black tendrils sprouted from his back, like tentacles. Thick, dark veins covered his arms, synthetic muscles of slime. The more that grew and covered his body, the faster he moved. Eventually, he dropped onto all fours, finding it was much faster to lope along like some gorilla-wolf fascimile. He found himself thinking strange thoughts about people he passed. He felt a terrible hunger deep inside him. Shrugging those painful, disturbing thoughts away, he continued to the places he knew in his head. The place of fire and death, where man was killing its brethren for reasons they themselves were not fully aware of. He hated them for it. Mob mentality used to get him down when he was fully human, now they just made him aggressive.
Turning swiftly and propelling himself off of the alley brick wall, he scrabbled onto a ledge, pulling himself onto an apartment roof. For a short while, he surveyed the chaos below. The hunger within roared in delight and anticipation, while Sage's mind reeled in horror about what he was about to do. He was too far in by now, so abandoning all coherent thought, he dropped into the crowd, claws outstretched.
It was under these fires that the sick ooze grew. Long black tendrils sprouted from his back, like tentacles. Thick, dark veins covered his arms, synthetic muscles of slime. The more that grew and covered his body, the faster he moved. Eventually, he dropped onto all fours, finding it was much faster to lope along like some gorilla-wolf fascimile. He found himself thinking strange thoughts about people he passed. He felt a terrible hunger deep inside him. Shrugging those painful, disturbing thoughts away, he continued to the places he knew in his head. The place of fire and death, where man was killing its brethren for reasons they themselves were not fully aware of. He hated them for it. Mob mentality used to get him down when he was fully human, now they just made him aggressive.
Turning swiftly and propelling himself off of the alley brick wall, he scrabbled onto a ledge, pulling himself onto an apartment roof. For a short while, he surveyed the chaos below. The hunger within roared in delight and anticipation, while Sage's mind reeled in horror about what he was about to do. He was too far in by now, so abandoning all coherent thought, he dropped into the crowd, claws outstretched.
OOC Notes
Kevin flew from the roof and landed in front of the rioters. "You assholes are really starting to piss me off!" He yelled. They all turned from looting or whatever they had been doing and began to run towards him. They all seemed to be armed with rocks or bats. He smiled, "Piece of ca-ARRGGHH" One of them had a gun and had shot him. The bullet had grazed his leg and cut him short mid-sentence.
He looked up at the group, fire in his eyes. Without saying another word he brought out two sticks and slammed them together. The sticks broke as soon as they connected and a crack of thunder echoed down the alley. The rioters closest to Kevin were nearly deafened as the shockwave flung them physically backwards onto the people behind them causing a domino effect. The ones that had been hit the hardest stayed down on the ground either from being knocked unconcious or from pure shock. Some were more fortunate. They staggered to their feet bruised and battered but relentless.
Kevin brought out two more sticks and twirled them. "Bring it on." The more fearful rioters took that chance to run away, but there were about ten left who were stupid or crazy enough to keep fighting. They ran at him full speed with their weapons raised. Kevin ran forwards as well. The first two he met got beaned across the head and then blown away by his power. Three more attacked at once and he propelled himself over their heads and landed behind them. A simple pushing motion and they were thrown headlong down the alley. From behind came the last five, all savage looking with feral snarls on their faces. These guys must have gotten some pretty good stuff he thought to himself. He threw his sticks at two of them, the smooth pieces of wood being pushed faster by a large shrieking sound.
The men had no chance to move out of the way before the sticks flew straight through their skulls and landed splintered behind them. They fell to the ground, dead. The other three men had lost their snarls and had begun to look a bit more like frightened puppies. Kevin let out a mighty roar akin to the great cats of the Sahara and the men ran in the opposite direction.
With that over with, Kevin took a look around and smiled. Then he looked at his leg, it had been bleeding openly this whole time. Then he began to feel the pain rise up again. He grabbed at the wound, stopping the blood only a little as he cursed to himself.
He looked up at the group, fire in his eyes. Without saying another word he brought out two sticks and slammed them together. The sticks broke as soon as they connected and a crack of thunder echoed down the alley. The rioters closest to Kevin were nearly deafened as the shockwave flung them physically backwards onto the people behind them causing a domino effect. The ones that had been hit the hardest stayed down on the ground either from being knocked unconcious or from pure shock. Some were more fortunate. They staggered to their feet bruised and battered but relentless.
Kevin brought out two more sticks and twirled them. "Bring it on." The more fearful rioters took that chance to run away, but there were about ten left who were stupid or crazy enough to keep fighting. They ran at him full speed with their weapons raised. Kevin ran forwards as well. The first two he met got beaned across the head and then blown away by his power. Three more attacked at once and he propelled himself over their heads and landed behind them. A simple pushing motion and they were thrown headlong down the alley. From behind came the last five, all savage looking with feral snarls on their faces. These guys must have gotten some pretty good stuff he thought to himself. He threw his sticks at two of them, the smooth pieces of wood being pushed faster by a large shrieking sound.
The men had no chance to move out of the way before the sticks flew straight through their skulls and landed splintered behind them. They fell to the ground, dead. The other three men had lost their snarls and had begun to look a bit more like frightened puppies. Kevin let out a mighty roar akin to the great cats of the Sahara and the men ran in the opposite direction.
With that over with, Kevin took a look around and smiled. Then he looked at his leg, it had been bleeding openly this whole time. Then he began to feel the pain rise up again. He grabbed at the wound, stopping the blood only a little as he cursed to himself.
OOC Notes
Loraine Thomas felt the overwhelming need to apologize to the world, after all she was completely ignoring it. That is, up until the point a bullet shattered her bathroom window. For some this wouldn’t matter, however, she was currently taking a bath. As one could imagine considering her bare state, a scream echoed through her apartment and no doubt through the window. She heard a roar, of what sounded to be laughter or something of the sort, and she blushed, humiliated. Damn, bastards. She sounded angry however, if anything she was still feeling slightly sick over the gruesome photos shown on the news broadcast.
She was well past immune to gruesome images, she saw them all the time, whether by choice or not. That however was nothing compared to the sight of police officers being hanged. For one thing that just seemed so, so wrong. It usually was the criminals being hung by the police officers not the other way around. It was also the thought that anyone of those men could have been her father or brother that sickened her. Honestly, you’d think a criminal would have some sense of propriety, she did when she was performing terrible works of crime.
Slowly, whilst staying below the sight of the window and the men below it, she made her way to the bedroom where she redressed herself in her all black outfit and grabbed her designer sunglasses off of the wooden surface that was her dresser. She jumped again when she heard a bullet shatter a window a couple stories below her. Walking to her living room she visibly shivered, the maelstrom of emotions around her was once again filling her to the brim. One would think that out of all the possible emotions she would actually be feeling the overwhelming one would be anger, but no it was most definitely fear.
There was another doorway that led to the office; it had a safe in it. It was time she got out of here, she didn’t want to be around when this place was taken by a mass amount of looters and just plain mad people. No way, she was smarter than that. She opened the safe, an old fashioned one, after all the classics were simply the best, 9-43-17. Click. It was there that she grabbed her hand gun and a bag full of bullets and money. One could never be overly prepared. She knew that.
Then she left. She didn’t take the elevators. That was what the guys with guns and other such weapons would take. They were lazy like that. No, she took the stairs. Unfortunately, though she had been completely fine the whole rest of the way, when she reached the bottom floor the mob was making its way to the stairs also. There weren’t that many people…yet.
Of course they stopped when they saw her, the one, whom seemed to be the leader of the small group or at least he thought he was spoke first, “Well, well, what do we have here.” She smiled, took a step forward and lightly touched his hand. The man at first seemed somewhat confused, but then he himself took a step forwards and grabbed her chin as to lift her face. Almost immediately the emotion of fear started on its past to his heart.
It was easy to see it happening and it didn’t take as long as she had hoped, he began to step back. The others looked at him a weird look on their faces. Five shots rang out in the small lobby they were currently residing in. Lori ran out. No doubt another part of the mob close behind her. Thank goodness she at least ran everyday or they would have most definitely caught her. She took to the shadows, avoiding groups, staying at an unnoticeable distance. The farther she went the harder it got. Well, until she reached a seemingly abandoned area of town.
Perhaps the mob was done here, however only a bunch of idiots would leave, this area was on a higher level than her apartment building was on. There was no way they were done looting the area. She took a single step forward but stopped immediately when she felt her foot brush against a stick and kick it a small distance. Analyzing the object wasn’t hard; it was a blood covered stick. She cringed, was a nasty way of killing someone, at least her kills were always clean ones. That’s not to say she killed people often just when they were a threat to her.
Loraine paused for a moment when she heard the light sounds of someone cursing to themselves. Her empathy picked up on the person’s emotions, a little bit of shock, some anger, and pain. Just to clarify, this isn’t physical pain, it is psychological pain caused by the thought of something sad or painful, such as an injury. Physical pain is a feeling not an emotion, which, she had to admit, was a good thing considering that if this wasn’t the case she wouldn’t ever not be in physical pain. She of course wasn’t planning on poking her head out from behind the car, but she was going to take a peek.
Darkness faded into a slightly brighter picture of a man gripping his leg. It was there that blood oozed from between his fingers. She didn’t need to see his face to feel his anger, but she also didn’t need to be an empath to know he was mad, his curses did that for her.
For a moment a vague sense of knowing crossed her. He seemed so familiar to her. Had she seen him before, met him? What was it about him that she felt she recognized, perhaps it was his voice?
As far as she could tell he was unarmed. She certainly hoped so considering what she was doing. Slowly standing up and making her way a little closer to where he was, not leaving the cover of the car, however. That would be suicide whether he was armed or not.
She was well past immune to gruesome images, she saw them all the time, whether by choice or not. That however was nothing compared to the sight of police officers being hanged. For one thing that just seemed so, so wrong. It usually was the criminals being hung by the police officers not the other way around. It was also the thought that anyone of those men could have been her father or brother that sickened her. Honestly, you’d think a criminal would have some sense of propriety, she did when she was performing terrible works of crime.
Slowly, whilst staying below the sight of the window and the men below it, she made her way to the bedroom where she redressed herself in her all black outfit and grabbed her designer sunglasses off of the wooden surface that was her dresser. She jumped again when she heard a bullet shatter a window a couple stories below her. Walking to her living room she visibly shivered, the maelstrom of emotions around her was once again filling her to the brim. One would think that out of all the possible emotions she would actually be feeling the overwhelming one would be anger, but no it was most definitely fear.
There was another doorway that led to the office; it had a safe in it. It was time she got out of here, she didn’t want to be around when this place was taken by a mass amount of looters and just plain mad people. No way, she was smarter than that. She opened the safe, an old fashioned one, after all the classics were simply the best, 9-43-17. Click. It was there that she grabbed her hand gun and a bag full of bullets and money. One could never be overly prepared. She knew that.
Then she left. She didn’t take the elevators. That was what the guys with guns and other such weapons would take. They were lazy like that. No, she took the stairs. Unfortunately, though she had been completely fine the whole rest of the way, when she reached the bottom floor the mob was making its way to the stairs also. There weren’t that many people…yet.
Of course they stopped when they saw her, the one, whom seemed to be the leader of the small group or at least he thought he was spoke first, “Well, well, what do we have here.” She smiled, took a step forward and lightly touched his hand. The man at first seemed somewhat confused, but then he himself took a step forwards and grabbed her chin as to lift her face. Almost immediately the emotion of fear started on its past to his heart.
It was easy to see it happening and it didn’t take as long as she had hoped, he began to step back. The others looked at him a weird look on their faces. Five shots rang out in the small lobby they were currently residing in. Lori ran out. No doubt another part of the mob close behind her. Thank goodness she at least ran everyday or they would have most definitely caught her. She took to the shadows, avoiding groups, staying at an unnoticeable distance. The farther she went the harder it got. Well, until she reached a seemingly abandoned area of town.
Perhaps the mob was done here, however only a bunch of idiots would leave, this area was on a higher level than her apartment building was on. There was no way they were done looting the area. She took a single step forward but stopped immediately when she felt her foot brush against a stick and kick it a small distance. Analyzing the object wasn’t hard; it was a blood covered stick. She cringed, was a nasty way of killing someone, at least her kills were always clean ones. That’s not to say she killed people often just when they were a threat to her.
Loraine paused for a moment when she heard the light sounds of someone cursing to themselves. Her empathy picked up on the person’s emotions, a little bit of shock, some anger, and pain. Just to clarify, this isn’t physical pain, it is psychological pain caused by the thought of something sad or painful, such as an injury. Physical pain is a feeling not an emotion, which, she had to admit, was a good thing considering that if this wasn’t the case she wouldn’t ever not be in physical pain. She of course wasn’t planning on poking her head out from behind the car, but she was going to take a peek.
Darkness faded into a slightly brighter picture of a man gripping his leg. It was there that blood oozed from between his fingers. She didn’t need to see his face to feel his anger, but she also didn’t need to be an empath to know he was mad, his curses did that for her.
For a moment a vague sense of knowing crossed her. He seemed so familiar to her. Had she seen him before, met him? What was it about him that she felt she recognized, perhaps it was his voice?
As far as she could tell he was unarmed. She certainly hoped so considering what she was doing. Slowly standing up and making her way a little closer to where he was, not leaving the cover of the car, however. That would be suicide whether he was armed or not.
OOC Notes
WTF Triple post?
OOC Notes
WTF Double post?
OOC Notes
Landing on all fours like a very dangerous cat, Sage opened his maw, teeth forming from the sludge. People stared in confused awe for a while as what was happening began to sink in. Slowly but surely, they grew silent, one by one. The anger and rage of the mob became fear and panic, as man stampeded in a mad rush to escape this new threat. They had seen supers before, but they had no idea what this was, this horrible swamp fiend.
Bolder men threw their weapons at it, or fired once or twice. Molotovs and bullets whizzed by, exploding on the brick and concrete. Sage hissed, the heat burned the ooze that had become an extension of his being. Growling, he began to lose control. The beast was taking control, as he faded into oblivion. Leaping onto a nearby agressor with a baseball bat, he ripped out his throat, letting the blood spray his face. They fell to the ground, the ooze writhing and forming long tentacles tipped with thin needle-like blades. Plunging them into the man, the ooze drank of his essence, essentially sucking him dry. This process continued for some while, jumping from individual to individual, feeding the ooze. As the hunger was replaced by hot animal rage, he dropped to all fours, noticing dimly that he had gotten much larger. Loping into a car, he flung it into the fleeing crowd, crushing several.
BANG!
Pain flooded into his human mind, awakening him from the beast's control. Police? Why were they trying to defend what had already betrayed them? Turning his rage onto the trooper, he surveyed the lone officer for a while. Licking his lips hungrily, he hesistated. He was in control now, not the beast. He would do this for vengeance, not blood thirst. Running full speed into the weak human form, he rammed him into his car, collapsing the hood and windshield. Fuck SIRS. Panting and spitting, he was in the zone. He was so powerful here, so untouchable. As a Molotov connected to the side of his face, he realized this was not so true. Fire was bad, he realized. It hurt the ooze, therefore it hurt him. Scrambling against the concrete, he rammed his face into a wall, putting out the flame and stunning him for a moment.
Whipping his bulk around, he found the man escaping through a dark alley. Hometurf.. He chuckled throatily, which sounded like a hideous gurgle, what with the sludge in his throat and lungs. Sprinting into the alley, ripping the man in half, he came out on the other side, only to be stunned again by what seemed like a soundwave. It did not hurt, for the distance from the origin was respectable. The origin, he found to his disbelief, was a whirling man. Slamming and crashing about, he proceeded to murder a few men, and cause the others to retreat. The man roared, loud and inhuman, before settling his focus on his bleeding leg. A woman approached him from behind. The man intrigued Sage, so he was concerned. This city did not have a great track record with people sneaking up from behind. Voicing a thirsty roar of his own (however lacking in super power it may be), he leapt up at the duo, aiming at the car beside them. He hit it on all fours, crushing the roof. Ignoring the sudden awkward silence, he roared again, staring at the strangers, ready for anything.
Bolder men threw their weapons at it, or fired once or twice. Molotovs and bullets whizzed by, exploding on the brick and concrete. Sage hissed, the heat burned the ooze that had become an extension of his being. Growling, he began to lose control. The beast was taking control, as he faded into oblivion. Leaping onto a nearby agressor with a baseball bat, he ripped out his throat, letting the blood spray his face. They fell to the ground, the ooze writhing and forming long tentacles tipped with thin needle-like blades. Plunging them into the man, the ooze drank of his essence, essentially sucking him dry. This process continued for some while, jumping from individual to individual, feeding the ooze. As the hunger was replaced by hot animal rage, he dropped to all fours, noticing dimly that he had gotten much larger. Loping into a car, he flung it into the fleeing crowd, crushing several.
BANG!
Pain flooded into his human mind, awakening him from the beast's control. Police? Why were they trying to defend what had already betrayed them? Turning his rage onto the trooper, he surveyed the lone officer for a while. Licking his lips hungrily, he hesistated. He was in control now, not the beast. He would do this for vengeance, not blood thirst. Running full speed into the weak human form, he rammed him into his car, collapsing the hood and windshield. Fuck SIRS. Panting and spitting, he was in the zone. He was so powerful here, so untouchable. As a Molotov connected to the side of his face, he realized this was not so true. Fire was bad, he realized. It hurt the ooze, therefore it hurt him. Scrambling against the concrete, he rammed his face into a wall, putting out the flame and stunning him for a moment.
Whipping his bulk around, he found the man escaping through a dark alley. Hometurf.. He chuckled throatily, which sounded like a hideous gurgle, what with the sludge in his throat and lungs. Sprinting into the alley, ripping the man in half, he came out on the other side, only to be stunned again by what seemed like a soundwave. It did not hurt, for the distance from the origin was respectable. The origin, he found to his disbelief, was a whirling man. Slamming and crashing about, he proceeded to murder a few men, and cause the others to retreat. The man roared, loud and inhuman, before settling his focus on his bleeding leg. A woman approached him from behind. The man intrigued Sage, so he was concerned. This city did not have a great track record with people sneaking up from behind. Voicing a thirsty roar of his own (however lacking in super power it may be), he leapt up at the duo, aiming at the car beside them. He hit it on all fours, crushing the roof. Ignoring the sudden awkward silence, he roared again, staring at the strangers, ready for anything.
OOC Notes
Kevin heard a kicked drumstick and looked around, his pain temporarily forgotten. He removed two more drumsticks from his back before he turned to look at a nearby car. There was the sound of scuffling and a long shador of moving feet from underneath the vehicle.
"More? I thought you idiots had enough." Then he saw that it was a lone woman. He dropped his sticks slightly. "What do you want?" He pointed at his leg. "Can't you see I-" He was caught short as his advanced hearing caught the sound of some sort of beast. He also heard frightened screaming and the smashing of metal. Then all was silent except for the sound of a galloping animal with clong claws and sound of some sort of glooping ooze. "That can't be good."
He turned towards the source of the sound and saw a giant black monster running at them. It almost looked like a bear except that it almost had a face, and that face had way too many teeth. "Holy shit!" Kevin yelled as the monster jumped and landed onm the car that the girl had been by. He looked around for her while backing away from the-whatever it was. He raised his sticks in a defensive position and began wondering if he was going to have to fight this thing.
"More? I thought you idiots had enough." Then he saw that it was a lone woman. He dropped his sticks slightly. "What do you want?" He pointed at his leg. "Can't you see I-" He was caught short as his advanced hearing caught the sound of some sort of beast. He also heard frightened screaming and the smashing of metal. Then all was silent except for the sound of a galloping animal with clong claws and sound of some sort of glooping ooze. "That can't be good."
He turned towards the source of the sound and saw a giant black monster running at them. It almost looked like a bear except that it almost had a face, and that face had way too many teeth. "Holy shit!" Kevin yelled as the monster jumped and landed onm the car that the girl had been by. He looked around for her while backing away from the-whatever it was. He raised his sticks in a defensive position and began wondering if he was going to have to fight this thing.
OOC Notes
It was amazing what people would do if you gave them the right justification. Retreating from the park, from the scenes of carnage he'd left in his wake, James scurried back into the city, considering again just how easily the crowd had been swayed. Almost laughing, he ducked down a side alley, glancing behind himself to make sure he wasnt being followed, then reached inside his jacket and pulled out a dirty beany, jamming it down low over his eyes. It was the work of a second to slide back out into the near empty streets, shoulders hunched against the cold, looking for all the world like just another homeless person trying to find somewhere to stay. Better to be safe than sorry, and there was no point in inciting riots if he wasnt around to capitalise on the outcome now, was there.
From somewhere nearby came a crack like a splitting mountain, followed shortly by another dull thump and a crying shriek. Brows furrowed, James peered down a side street, trying to see just what the hell was going on. It sounded like the city itself had just split in two. Had the army got here already? His right hand dove into his pocket, checking the revolver was still there. It was, the blued steel sending a wave of calm over him that rose up his back like a chill. Smiling a feral smile, keeping to the shadows, he picked through the alleys, tracking closer to the disturbance.
Rounding one last corner, he walked out into a double lane highway littered with bodies, the culprit, or who James assumed was the culprit, standing proud atop a car and roaring his anger to the skies. He didnt seem to have any weapons. The dropped guys were surrounded by scattered bits of wood, a knife, a low caliber pistol lying abandoned in the centre of the street, but the roaring maniacs hands were empty. Movement caught the corner of his eye. A girl was picking her way carefully through the mess, heading towards the screamer. She was unarmed, for sure. She didnt look like the type who should even be out on a night like this, as she stepped daintily around wreckage, sneaking closer to her target. Did she have a death wish or something?
The guy had obviously noticed her, whipping round, snapping something from a sheath on his back James hadnt noticed before, two small, thin sticks of some kind, slightly beaded at one end. If he didnt know any better, he'd say they were, what drumsticks? A guy with a couple drumsticks had caused all this mess? A wide smile pushed his lips apart as James realised just what that meant this man probably was, and why he was out here tonight. He had to be empowered. Had to be a super. Some do gooder out to stop the rioters. Oh, this was good. This was exactly what he'd been looking for, trying to draw out. Now, if only he could get closer. Maybe the crazy girl would prove useful after all, even if just as a distraction.
The thought was cut short by screams and the sound of tearing metal and broken glass as something detached itself from the inky blackness of the night and hurled itself at the pair. The car next to them positively exploded as it landed, and James threw himself back into the alley he'd come from, the gun torn from its hiding place, hoisted up in shaking hands as he stared at this newest development. The creature was massive, vaguely man shaped, all teeth and limbs. It seemed to pulse as it moved, considering the drummer and the girl, its gaping maw open and dripping glistening ichor as it roared again, making the drummers deep voice sound paltry in comparison.
Forcing his breathing to slow, James put his back to the wall and flipped the chamber of the revolver open. Six 357 rounds, plus the few more in his back pocket. It wouldnt be enough, not to stop that thing. Not judging from the mess it had made on its entrance. Still, right now it didnt know he was here, or at least, he hoped it didnt, and there was always time to run. Settling back, wiping the cold sweat that sprinkled his brow away with the back of his hand, he tucked the gun away again, keeping that hand wrapped tight around the grip of the pistol. Whatever happened next, it should prove interesting, at least.
From somewhere nearby came a crack like a splitting mountain, followed shortly by another dull thump and a crying shriek. Brows furrowed, James peered down a side street, trying to see just what the hell was going on. It sounded like the city itself had just split in two. Had the army got here already? His right hand dove into his pocket, checking the revolver was still there. It was, the blued steel sending a wave of calm over him that rose up his back like a chill. Smiling a feral smile, keeping to the shadows, he picked through the alleys, tracking closer to the disturbance.
Rounding one last corner, he walked out into a double lane highway littered with bodies, the culprit, or who James assumed was the culprit, standing proud atop a car and roaring his anger to the skies. He didnt seem to have any weapons. The dropped guys were surrounded by scattered bits of wood, a knife, a low caliber pistol lying abandoned in the centre of the street, but the roaring maniacs hands were empty. Movement caught the corner of his eye. A girl was picking her way carefully through the mess, heading towards the screamer. She was unarmed, for sure. She didnt look like the type who should even be out on a night like this, as she stepped daintily around wreckage, sneaking closer to her target. Did she have a death wish or something?
The guy had obviously noticed her, whipping round, snapping something from a sheath on his back James hadnt noticed before, two small, thin sticks of some kind, slightly beaded at one end. If he didnt know any better, he'd say they were, what drumsticks? A guy with a couple drumsticks had caused all this mess? A wide smile pushed his lips apart as James realised just what that meant this man probably was, and why he was out here tonight. He had to be empowered. Had to be a super. Some do gooder out to stop the rioters. Oh, this was good. This was exactly what he'd been looking for, trying to draw out. Now, if only he could get closer. Maybe the crazy girl would prove useful after all, even if just as a distraction.
The thought was cut short by screams and the sound of tearing metal and broken glass as something detached itself from the inky blackness of the night and hurled itself at the pair. The car next to them positively exploded as it landed, and James threw himself back into the alley he'd come from, the gun torn from its hiding place, hoisted up in shaking hands as he stared at this newest development. The creature was massive, vaguely man shaped, all teeth and limbs. It seemed to pulse as it moved, considering the drummer and the girl, its gaping maw open and dripping glistening ichor as it roared again, making the drummers deep voice sound paltry in comparison.
Forcing his breathing to slow, James put his back to the wall and flipped the chamber of the revolver open. Six 357 rounds, plus the few more in his back pocket. It wouldnt be enough, not to stop that thing. Not judging from the mess it had made on its entrance. Still, right now it didnt know he was here, or at least, he hoped it didnt, and there was always time to run. Settling back, wiping the cold sweat that sprinkled his brow away with the back of his hand, he tucked the gun away again, keeping that hand wrapped tight around the grip of the pistol. Whatever happened next, it should prove interesting, at least.
OOC Notes
Loraine’s approach was cut short by the whipping of the man as he turned around to face her. It wasn’t necessarily that the man had turned that caused confusion to her mind; it was more the idea of how he’d noticed her. She was as quiet as she could possibly be and no normal person would have noticed amidst their cussing. Fortunately for here, though she was worried that she might have to throw herself at him in order to make use of her ability, he lowered his drumsticks slightly. It would appear chivalry wasn’t dead yet. Thank God.
Anyways, if she wasn’t sure before she was now. He was a mutant, a gifted one, just like her. Lovely.
That wasn’t to say she recognized him, she still had no idea who he was. He spoke to her, “What do you want?” She registered the question but, even if he had given her time to respond she was already distracted. Someone else was in the area now, someone whose emotional complex felt similar to that of someone she had registered earlier. Though she did feel the familiarity, she couldn’t pinpoint what exactly, and who it was. It appeared as though she had been doing that a lot lately. ‘Drummer Boy’, which was the ‘affectionate’ name she had given the man with the drumsticks, continued, “Can’t you see I-“he stopped short. She was curious as to why. Perhaps he too, had noticed the third presence. Unconsciously she glanced in its direction, not that anyone would notice through her sunglasses.
A fourth human’s, at least she thought it was human, emotions made themselves aware to her soon after. This one was a little harder to pinpoint. However, she realized very quickly where this ‘human’ was, for he landed on a car not too far away from her. Instinct pushed her to the ground as quick, if not quicker than she had ever moved before. It was a good thing she did, glass fragments, metal pieces, and plastic came flying as if a bomb had been set off. If she hadn’t ducked they could have ripped her up pretty good. After all of the remaining shrapnel finally reached the ground she prepared to stand up again, she hit deck once again and didn’t fail to cover her ears when the creature roared.
He was certainly loud and ferocious. However, amidst its heartfelt felt feelings thoughtless rage did not reign supreme. No, actually it was concern, worry almost. But who exactly for? Drummer Boy had lowered his chop-I mean-drumsticks. And even if he had been watching from afar it wasn’t as though she was threatened by a man suffering from a leg injury, especially when he hadn’t even noticed her yet. Reasoning led her to only two possible choices. Either he was worried about the man staying hidden or he was worried about Drummer Boy. The first choice however was unreasonable, no one could have possibly been able to tell that anyone had noticed him in the first place. The second choice meant she was the threat, after all if someone’s threatening someone else you don’t not attack the danger. What she would like to know is what she had done to deserve the labeling of threat.
Secondly, she really wanted to know what the hell it was. She felt human emotions, but it certainly didn’t look human. Perhaps, another mutant. Was she some kind of mutant magnet now. Her first thought was to run as fast as she could and leave Drummer Boy to fend for himself, however, after the man took his place in-between her and Monster (the name of the new guy covered in some kind of slime or jelly) she felt bad for even having the thought.
However, what were they going to do. How did they plan on killing a Jello monster? Was that even possible? She stood up and approached the man in front of her, “Perhaps, sticking around isn’t the best idea.” She whispered once she was in ear shot. Whether this guy was planning on leaving or not, wasn’t really one of her worries. Fear was an excellent motivator after all. No, it was more the question of whether or not they, or rather she, could get away.
Anyways, if she wasn’t sure before she was now. He was a mutant, a gifted one, just like her. Lovely.
That wasn’t to say she recognized him, she still had no idea who he was. He spoke to her, “What do you want?” She registered the question but, even if he had given her time to respond she was already distracted. Someone else was in the area now, someone whose emotional complex felt similar to that of someone she had registered earlier. Though she did feel the familiarity, she couldn’t pinpoint what exactly, and who it was. It appeared as though she had been doing that a lot lately. ‘Drummer Boy’, which was the ‘affectionate’ name she had given the man with the drumsticks, continued, “Can’t you see I-“he stopped short. She was curious as to why. Perhaps he too, had noticed the third presence. Unconsciously she glanced in its direction, not that anyone would notice through her sunglasses.
A fourth human’s, at least she thought it was human, emotions made themselves aware to her soon after. This one was a little harder to pinpoint. However, she realized very quickly where this ‘human’ was, for he landed on a car not too far away from her. Instinct pushed her to the ground as quick, if not quicker than she had ever moved before. It was a good thing she did, glass fragments, metal pieces, and plastic came flying as if a bomb had been set off. If she hadn’t ducked they could have ripped her up pretty good. After all of the remaining shrapnel finally reached the ground she prepared to stand up again, she hit deck once again and didn’t fail to cover her ears when the creature roared.
He was certainly loud and ferocious. However, amidst its heartfelt felt feelings thoughtless rage did not reign supreme. No, actually it was concern, worry almost. But who exactly for? Drummer Boy had lowered his chop-I mean-drumsticks. And even if he had been watching from afar it wasn’t as though she was threatened by a man suffering from a leg injury, especially when he hadn’t even noticed her yet. Reasoning led her to only two possible choices. Either he was worried about the man staying hidden or he was worried about Drummer Boy. The first choice however was unreasonable, no one could have possibly been able to tell that anyone had noticed him in the first place. The second choice meant she was the threat, after all if someone’s threatening someone else you don’t not attack the danger. What she would like to know is what she had done to deserve the labeling of threat.
Secondly, she really wanted to know what the hell it was. She felt human emotions, but it certainly didn’t look human. Perhaps, another mutant. Was she some kind of mutant magnet now. Her first thought was to run as fast as she could and leave Drummer Boy to fend for himself, however, after the man took his place in-between her and Monster (the name of the new guy covered in some kind of slime or jelly) she felt bad for even having the thought.
However, what were they going to do. How did they plan on killing a Jello monster? Was that even possible? She stood up and approached the man in front of her, “Perhaps, sticking around isn’t the best idea.” She whispered once she was in ear shot. Whether this guy was planning on leaving or not, wasn’t really one of her worries. Fear was an excellent motivator after all. No, it was more the question of whether or not they, or rather she, could get away.
OOC Notes
"Perhaps, sticking around isn't the best idea," whispered the woman.
As he stood there, panting and heaving, he watched for any signs of danger. He wasn't completely out of the ooze's urgings. He still felt cloudy, in a daze. The car groaned in protest as he shifted his bulk onto his back legs, rearing up to reveal his full height, hoping to dissuade any ideas of violence, as much as the slime wanted it. Well, not the slime exactly. I am the slime, it is me, no real difference. He stepped down from the car, leaving a dark residue on the car, which began to grow in the moonlight. He could feel a part of himself left behind, and realized that even though he had left the car, he had a faint feel of metal and glass. Looking down at his bloated arms and legs, he found no residue or shrapnel.
A third realization; he couldn't really talk to these people, now could he? Groaning throatily, he only succeeded in spraying the cold ooze at the two. That couldn't be a good first impression. Neither... he thought was landing on a nearby car. He tried manipulating the goo, to reveal his face. He only suceeded in making the teeth bigger. Shit. If he didn't get his shit together right now, he could start to expect a nice drumstick down his throat. Perhaps if he was lucky, it wouldn't be travelling at a super sonic speed. He calmed himself, and just asked himself to move out of his face. It happened. Coughing up black sludge onto the pavement again, he took large, gulping breaths of the dirty Vegas air. Funny, felt better with a sludge filter.
Trying his voice, he realized with a shock, that it had become hoarse and growly, as if he had been a 60 year old smoker. He decided he didn't care anymore. "I am Zacharias. Sage Leon Zacharias, but I'd prefer the last name, if you don't mind- Shit, shoulda crafted an alias -. Now, who are you, and what were you just doing with those sticks?" He didn't care if this man was friend or foe, he had a power, and this was interesting. Closing the slime back over his face, he sat back on his haunches like a great hound of hell and awaited an answer...
As he stood there, panting and heaving, he watched for any signs of danger. He wasn't completely out of the ooze's urgings. He still felt cloudy, in a daze. The car groaned in protest as he shifted his bulk onto his back legs, rearing up to reveal his full height, hoping to dissuade any ideas of violence, as much as the slime wanted it. Well, not the slime exactly. I am the slime, it is me, no real difference. He stepped down from the car, leaving a dark residue on the car, which began to grow in the moonlight. He could feel a part of himself left behind, and realized that even though he had left the car, he had a faint feel of metal and glass. Looking down at his bloated arms and legs, he found no residue or shrapnel.
A third realization; he couldn't really talk to these people, now could he? Groaning throatily, he only succeeded in spraying the cold ooze at the two. That couldn't be a good first impression. Neither... he thought was landing on a nearby car. He tried manipulating the goo, to reveal his face. He only suceeded in making the teeth bigger. Shit. If he didn't get his shit together right now, he could start to expect a nice drumstick down his throat. Perhaps if he was lucky, it wouldn't be travelling at a super sonic speed. He calmed himself, and just asked himself to move out of his face. It happened. Coughing up black sludge onto the pavement again, he took large, gulping breaths of the dirty Vegas air. Funny, felt better with a sludge filter.
Trying his voice, he realized with a shock, that it had become hoarse and growly, as if he had been a 60 year old smoker. He decided he didn't care anymore. "I am Zacharias. Sage Leon Zacharias, but I'd prefer the last name, if you don't mind- Shit, shoulda crafted an alias -. Now, who are you, and what were you just doing with those sticks?" He didn't care if this man was friend or foe, he had a power, and this was interesting. Closing the slime back over his face, he sat back on his haunches like a great hound of hell and awaited an answer...
OOC Notes
The girl behind him whispered that they should go. But Kevin was having trouble paying attention to anything other than the black ooze covered thing. Now that the black sludge was closer it seemed to be making more noise. Specifically, a high pitched whining sound that made him angry. He had two simultaneous urges: one to run up to the sludge and give it a hug, the other to kill everyone around him. He shook his head and took a step back, just in time to see the creature stand up on two legs and walk forward.
He raised his sticks prepared to attack when it spat goo at them. Kevin dodged and prepared to attack as the creature made its teeth larger. He turned and told the girl to hold her ears and looked back at the monster. Its face had pealed back to reveal, a face. More surprisingly, it talked. "I am Zacharias. Sage Leon Zacharias, but I'd prefer the last name, if you don't mind. Now, who are you, and what were you just doing with those sticks?"
"I'm K-" Kevin was so surprised that he almost blurted out his name. He'd stopped himself just in time. I shouldn't let people know who I am... He remembered what people used to call him in college. He'd been so good at playing the drums people just called him Percussion. He smiled, remembering those days and the irony of his gift. "You can call me Percussion." He sheathed the sticks, though still wary of the thing that called itself Zacharias, and looked around. "I would love to answer your question, but first...What the fuck are you?"
He raised his sticks prepared to attack when it spat goo at them. Kevin dodged and prepared to attack as the creature made its teeth larger. He turned and told the girl to hold her ears and looked back at the monster. Its face had pealed back to reveal, a face. More surprisingly, it talked. "I am Zacharias. Sage Leon Zacharias, but I'd prefer the last name, if you don't mind. Now, who are you, and what were you just doing with those sticks?"
"I'm K-" Kevin was so surprised that he almost blurted out his name. He'd stopped himself just in time. I shouldn't let people know who I am... He remembered what people used to call him in college. He'd been so good at playing the drums people just called him Percussion. He smiled, remembering those days and the irony of his gift. "You can call me Percussion." He sheathed the sticks, though still wary of the thing that called itself Zacharias, and looked around. "I would love to answer your question, but first...What the fuck are you?"
OOC Notes
The sounds of drunken men all around Duncan were giving him a headache. Of course, not a single in the person knew that Duncan was male. After all, he looked like a total slut, one of the ones he stole from a while ago. He had slept with her, and while she was asleep, he stole her clothes and her money. He has used this form on more than one occasion to steal from horny and drunk men he had found in bars. In fact, that's why he was in the bar in the first place. Surprisingly, no one had attempted to pick him up. They looked slightly afraid, even. Then Duncan realized, that his slut persona must be getting a reputation, and no one was stupid enough to go near him.
Disappointed, Duncan was just about to leave the bar, when about five large rioters walked in through the doors, stopping right in front of the short, scantily-clad shapeshifter. They exchanged looks, and the tallest one in the group grabbed Duncan by the neck and looked deep into his violet eyes. "Well, well, well.. it's not every day you see eyes like this. And guessing from the way that you're dressed, you're looking for a good time, right, you little whore? Hehehe.." The tall one released his grip from Duncan's throat, who was desperately trying not to fight back until a good moment. Changing shape here wouldn't be a good idea. One of the other rioters grabbed a hold of Duncan's arm. "Look, you bitch, I'm going to have my way with you, and then you can go on your merry way." Slinging Duncan over his shoulder, the rioter began to leave the bar. The others followed him, and the patrons of the bar remained in their seats and casually drank their beers.
The rioters carried their captive into the nearby alleyway, groping Duncan slightly as they held him against the wall. The tall rioter began to unzip his pants, and the only thing Duncan thought of doing was screaming as loudly as he possibly could, to see if anyone would bother with helping him. However, the scream was cut short as he was immediately slapped across the face. Duncan snapped at this point, his body beginning to tremble and mutate. The rioters around him stared in horror as the little lady they had kidnapped, transformed into the form of a grizzly bear. What happened after that was the gory demise of each of the five rioters. Pools of blood adorned the alleyway, and Duncan began to change back out of the grizzle bear form. However, instead of resuming the form he was born with, he reverted back into his slut form. His clothes had been ripped to shreds by his transformation, so he was left naked and drenched in blood. Naked women with blood on and around the hands and their mouths doesn't exactly instill the idea that this was a peaceful woman. But Duncan got up and began to walk through the alleyways aimlessly. Before he knew it, he found himself in the same alleyway as James. He would've left right away, but he knocked over a garbage can after he had lost his balance. If that didn't alert him of his presence, nothing would.
Disappointed, Duncan was just about to leave the bar, when about five large rioters walked in through the doors, stopping right in front of the short, scantily-clad shapeshifter. They exchanged looks, and the tallest one in the group grabbed Duncan by the neck and looked deep into his violet eyes. "Well, well, well.. it's not every day you see eyes like this. And guessing from the way that you're dressed, you're looking for a good time, right, you little whore? Hehehe.." The tall one released his grip from Duncan's throat, who was desperately trying not to fight back until a good moment. Changing shape here wouldn't be a good idea. One of the other rioters grabbed a hold of Duncan's arm. "Look, you bitch, I'm going to have my way with you, and then you can go on your merry way." Slinging Duncan over his shoulder, the rioter began to leave the bar. The others followed him, and the patrons of the bar remained in their seats and casually drank their beers.
The rioters carried their captive into the nearby alleyway, groping Duncan slightly as they held him against the wall. The tall rioter began to unzip his pants, and the only thing Duncan thought of doing was screaming as loudly as he possibly could, to see if anyone would bother with helping him. However, the scream was cut short as he was immediately slapped across the face. Duncan snapped at this point, his body beginning to tremble and mutate. The rioters around him stared in horror as the little lady they had kidnapped, transformed into the form of a grizzly bear. What happened after that was the gory demise of each of the five rioters. Pools of blood adorned the alleyway, and Duncan began to change back out of the grizzle bear form. However, instead of resuming the form he was born with, he reverted back into his slut form. His clothes had been ripped to shreds by his transformation, so he was left naked and drenched in blood. Naked women with blood on and around the hands and their mouths doesn't exactly instill the idea that this was a peaceful woman. But Duncan got up and began to walk through the alleyways aimlessly. Before he knew it, he found himself in the same alleyway as James. He would've left right away, but he knocked over a garbage can after he had lost his balance. If that didn't alert him of his presence, nothing would.
- 40 posts here • Page 1 of 2 • 1, 2
Long Live the New Las Vegas: Out Of Character (OOC)
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Long Live the New Las Vegas
1 ... 8, 9, 10by GracieGray on Tue Aug 23, 2011 4:29 am
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on Sun Nov 06, 2011 3:38 pm
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Long Live the New Las Vegas
Most recent OOC posts in Long Live the New Las Vegas
Re: [OOC] Long Live the New Las Vegas
soooo sorry guys. just piled with crap, last thing on the mind was checking in on this. it's not very hard to take a quick peak every once in a while. my bad
Re: [OOC] Long Live the New Las Vegas
Okay. Been a few more days. MapleDragon, if you're still around, check in, mate. Let us know what's going on, yeah.
If there's nothing to this within two days, I'll PM. Still nothing and we'll have to forge on ahead, if everyone still wants to.
If there's nothing to this within two days, I'll PM. Still nothing and we'll have to forge on ahead, if everyone still wants to.
Re: [OOC] Long Live the New Las Vegas
Id love to go. However, I cannot for Kevin is still at a bar, at least until this scene ends.
Re: [OOC] Long Live the New Las Vegas
Really!? I went to post my post last night and it literally dissappeared after I pressed the submit button. Fortunately I do all my work on Word, so all is well but still.
~M
~M
Re: [OOC] Long Live the New Las Vegas
's alright. I've been having issues with my computer these last couple days. Why I took so long to post too. Soz, guys.
Re: [OOC] Long Live the New Las Vegas
...sorry everyone. I got really busy, so I have been pretty slow in preparing a post. I'm almost done though. I also had a hard time with the escape route but alas I am almost at the end of it. Thank goodness.
~M
~M
Re: [OOC] Long Live the New Las Vegas
No need for the smelling salts; the post is done. Not very well, mind you. But it's done nonetheless. Sorry again for the long fucking wait. :/
Also, living statues covered in blood. Freaky.
Also, living statues covered in blood. Freaky.
Re: [OOC] Long Live the New Las Vegas
I've got this rag...I think it has Chloroform on it...Would that help?
Re: [OOC] Long Live the New Las Vegas
*sneaks up behind TCC and hits the back of his head with a bat* that's for not posting when you said you would (that and why kill Duncan when you can kill his creator...mwa, ha...haha...hahahahahahaha! oh Ima just kidding). Err, you ok TCC? *nudges back of his head and feels for pulse* well he's still alive, perhaps I didn't think that all the way through...does anyone have any smelling salts?
Re: [OOC] Long Live the New Las Vegas
I shall get a post done. I will. If not tonight, it will totally be done tomorrow. I have two hours of free time tomorrow. And today is Thanksgiving here in Canada. Yeah ;_;
And I apologize for that. My brain's been dead all weekend. So I don't know what I was even talking about. >_>
I feel like a dick, being all slow and stuff.
I PROMISE IT WILL BE DONE! If not you can just kill Duncan. xD
And I apologize for that. My brain's been dead all weekend. So I don't know what I was even talking about. >_>
I feel like a dick, being all slow and stuff.
I PROMISE IT WILL BE DONE! If not you can just kill Duncan. xD
Re: [OOC] Long Live the New Las Vegas
If you dont we'll be forced to leave you behind until you can catch up. Its been a week. Normally I wouldnt mind, I try to be pretty understanding, and I know that sometimes life gets in the way, but considering this... well.
I would've posted something but then I didn't because.. I didn't.
So there's always tomorrow. :'D
Re: [OOC] Long Live the New Las Vegas
GAAAAAAAAAAAH my inspiration for writing disappeared fuck fuck fuck fuck..
I need to slap myself and get that post done.
I need to slap myself and get that post done.
Re: [OOC] Long Live the New Las Vegas
There goes the weekend. Damn thing flew by. Again. And the world turns...
Re: [OOC] Long Live the New Las Vegas
I would've posted something but then I didn't because.. I didn't.
So there's always tomorrow. :'D
EDIT: Fuck, I'm sorry. School this week was brutal. Except for today. Today was fun. And that's why I'll try and get a post up. If not today, then definitely tomorrow.
Sorry again >_>
So there's always tomorrow. :'D
EDIT: Fuck, I'm sorry. School this week was brutal. Except for today. Today was fun. And that's why I'll try and get a post up. If not today, then definitely tomorrow.
Sorry again >_>
Re: [OOC] Long Live the New Las Vegas
OH trust me, super tight as in she just barely fits. Lols, and then she will diss~appear!
No literally I am going to have her dissappear at the end of my post should a chase occurr. Simply due to the fact that I don't want her to die quite yet, that and I want to see if you can figure out where she went. No worries I'll describe the place where she dissappears, but Ima not gonna give it aw~ay!
~M is drunk on boredom.
No literally I am going to have her dissappear at the end of my post should a chase occurr. Simply due to the fact that I don't want her to die quite yet, that and I want to see if you can figure out where she went. No worries I'll describe the place where she dissappears, but Ima not gonna give it aw~ay!
~M is drunk on boredom.
Re: [OOC] Long Live the New Las Vegas
well, tight spaces are his favourite places to fight, but not super tight. he can't fit, what with his massive sludgey ass
Re: [OOC] Long Live the New Las Vegas
:p. Heh. Her ability is quite annoying isn't it. Especially when you don't know she has one~!
~M
~M
Re: [OOC] Long Live the New Las Vegas
Giant sludge monster barreling towards Duncan? COWARDLY INSTINCTS ACTIVATE aka just running really fast. But not fast enough.
obligatory run forrest run joke
'Cause Duncan could always turn into a bear again but.. bear vs. sludge monster would be a one-sided battle. Most likely in favor of Mr. Sludge. Bear form is for a last resort.
Duncan's gonna be in sooooo much pain when he transforms back to his normal self. But that's irrelevant.
obligatory run forrest run joke
'Cause Duncan could always turn into a bear again but.. bear vs. sludge monster would be a one-sided battle. Most likely in favor of Mr. Sludge. Bear form is for a last resort.
Duncan's gonna be in sooooo much pain when he transforms back to his normal self. But that's irrelevant.
Re: [OOC] Long Live the New Las Vegas
that worked out pretty well. I was worried that if I assumed the hand reached the neck, it would borderline on god-modding, so I avoided causing any damage, hoping it would seem alright, and the post could inevitably get more done.
also, tight spaces, you tricky bastard.
also, tight spaces, you tricky bastard.
