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Wicked Ones

Wicked Ones

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A group of individual's have banded together to form a group The Wicked Ones, to protect the City of Los Angeles from those who would abuse their power. Full

1,678 readers have visited Wicked Ones since Polarisbear12 created it.

Heads Up: Completed Storyline!

This universe is marked as COMPLETED, indicating that no further changes will be accepted.

Introduction

FREAK...

...BOOZO...


. . . MONSTER




All of these are names we have become used to being called. Names created by those who can't, or won't, understand us. By those who are blinded by their fear of the unknown, afraid of difference... afraid of POWER. They couldn't understand our potential, and for that they shunned us from normal life. But soon, they won't be able to ignore us any longer. They would have you think that you were born with a deformity, but you were born with a gift.

We were born with our Gift; our own unique ability that could change the world. Be it super strength, the ability to speak to the dead, the ability to see the future. This was Nature's, maybe even Gods present to us, for us to change the world with. No one knows exactly how many of us are out there in the world, but we exist. World governments are, for the most part, unaware of our abilities. But over the past few years, they have been becoming more and more aware of our presence in the world. Some of us keep our gift to ourselves, secret from the rest of the world. Some become all to open with their abilities, and are captured by the government. But WE refuse to hide. We refuse to deny the fact that we exist...


We are . . .

. . . The Wicked Ones




We've been labeled as a gang, a group of ruffians who hang out in the slums of Los Angeles, California, it’s the perfect cover. The police just think of us as just a group of thugs, and just ignore us like every other gang in L.A. little do they know, we’re the real protectors of the city. While we have other bases across the U.S, L.A. is our capital. From here, we help protect people from the Others.

Everyone is born with a gift. Most of those gifts are powerful, and have great potential for great good... but also great evil. Some of us are born unable to control our power. We call them, the Others, or the Otherkind.

They're the ones that give us a bad name... You see, it isn't exactly their fault. They're born with a gift that is too powerful for them to control, and so it takes control of them. Most of them are mindless, slaves to a hunger for destruction, while others are simply evil. As if they were born with no soul. For the most part, they can’t be saved. So they must be put down... This is our job. To help protect people who can’t protect themselves from these monsters... And if it means being labeled as freaks, and monsters, then so be it.


Where you fit in





Although you may not know it yet, you are one of us. Whatever your gift, whatever your mastery of it may be, you are a Wicked One. Born with a unique power, you have grown up all your life without knowing anything about what you are. Are there others out there like you? Are you the only one? You ask yourself these questions daily, and just when you think the answer is no; you hear a rumor. A rumor that somewhere in the streets of L.A., there exists a sanctuary for those just like you; a world of freaks and monsters, a world of heroes and villains. Pushed to investigate by a voice inside of you, you decide to search for us...



The role play idea and relative layout is based off of an already existing yet closed role play. The Wicked Ones, managed by Mathew Littlepaw. All credit goes to him.

Rules


-Your character may have whatever power you deem fit, so long as it isn’t telepathy, control over all elements, powers that could have the potential of being Over Powered. Make sure the power you want to use isn’t already in use, I Will Not accept character’s with the same ability. If you’re not sure which power could be considered OP, then message me, I don’t bite.

-You may have your character have more than one power, HOWEVER I will only allow one major ability and/or one/or two minor ones. You MUST have weakness for the major ability and one for each minor one. Listing their skill set (Sort of like what they can de specifically with said power) doesn’t necessarily count as another ability depending on how you show it.

-If you want to create an Other character then message. I’m real open to ideas however in order to create an Other character you MUST have a Wicked character. This is mainly due to the fact that more often than not players drop out because they don’t have anything to do. Although most Other’s will most likely be NPC’s depending on their role and importance.

-Now onto the role play side of things. This is a literate role play so I expect you to use proper grammar and such. Seeing as it will be literate there will be a minimum 400 word count, if you can go above and beyond then Kudos to you sir (or Madame).

-Please by all that is sacred in this world, if you’re going to leave for a while then make sure to message me or inform us via OOC. If you disappear for a week or don’t post for a week or two I will send out a pm. If you don’t answer the pm within the next week I will make your character a NPC or simply remove them from the story.

-Seeing as there are a limited amount of spots please reserve in the OOC. To prove that you have read the rules and such add the words “Wicked Ones Rule” in the color you plan on using. However that color cannot be one that is already used and please add the ability you hope to use. Reservations will only last for 72 hours and they cannot be WIP’s or I will reject them or most likely ignore them and later forget about them.

Character Sheet

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[b]||Why they joined/want to join the Wicked Ones||[/b]
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The Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Daniel Wing Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Raiden Wing Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Aleksandr Zalewski Character Portrait: Kelsier Achylis

Earnings

0.00 INK

Morgan


It wasn’t all that great a day, even for Morgan. The young man looked out the window of his office and released a sigh. ”Looks like a storm is coming, great just what I need today.” A playful pout settled on his face before it disappeared with him getting up from his comfy chair. “Alright time to gather everyone”, Morgan said to himself. Slipping into his favorite jacket and walked through the halls, knocking on few doors, while opening others, he gathered those he needed for the days objective.

There was only one door he chose not to knock or open the door to and that door belonged to none other than his dead girlfriends’ little sister, Mei. She was a rowdy kid despite being so small, thinking about the old times Morgan couldn’t help but smile. Suddenly his reminiscing was interrupted by a low grumble. Chuckling to himself, Morgan patted his stomach and ventured off to the kitchen for something to snack on. If Cain was already in the kitchen, Morgan would say his hello’s before grabbing a banana and heading for the garage.




Once again Morgan was sitting in a chair, a plastic one to be exact. He leaned back, with his hands laced behind his head, almost like he was sleeping. But you could tell from the way the lollipop kept moving around in his mouth as well as the occasional yawn. Looking around he glanced at his watch to check the time, 1:34, huh? It was the afternoon and relatively early so there weren’t too many people in the food court.

Most people were already done with their lunch breaks but never Morgan’s, his lunch break was whenever he felt it was best to have it. Those were the perks of being the leader of the most notorious gang in the underworld, the Wicked Ones. Even now Morgan couldn’t help but grin at the idea of how some ten years ago he lived with his parents, in a different base of Wicked Ones.

Groaning, Morgan sat forwards in his chair and looked over at the people who came with him. Mercy, Daniel and his sister, and Cain, of course seeing as it wouldn’t be wise for all of them to sit there in one spot. He had sent Raiden and Cain to standby a little ways away from the food court, over by some store of some sort that had a clear view of the food court. While he had Mercy and David stay within the food court, although he would have liked it if they sat with him.

“Man, Mercy why must you dress like that? No-don’t answer it, I know the answer. Actually I think I might actually have a solution for it but we can talk about it later. I’m getting bored waiting for them to show up, right Daniel?” He smiled at the both of them in hopes of creating a livelier mood. Glancing at his watch again, it read 1:40 so in about ten minutes the new recruits should hopefully be showing up. If there were any that is.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daniel Wing Character Portrait: Raiden Wing Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus

Earnings

0.00 INK

"Yeah, could be worse though," Danny says rather bored as he leaned back on a chair that was ripped up from years of use at the older mall that they were at. Danny felt somewhat tired, not getting much sleep as Raiden had been so happy at waking him up whenever he got close to slumber.

"So you think I should try to mess with the new kids a bit? Just for fun you know," Daniel offers with a smile that was more often than not seen on Raiden rather than him. His sister was walking around with Cain and she didn't look overly happy about it though Daniel didn't know why. She was normally perfectly fine going with anybody so long as they weren't annoying or stupid. She didn't classify Cain in either category, so Danny really had no clue why his sister was being so glum for no reason.

Daniel looked around at the few people that walked by, his eyes open and alert for anyone who could be a threat to his sister or his friends. He wasn't surprised to see Raiden giving some guys encouraging looks as she walked around the mall with Cain as she always liked to tease them.

Daniel couldn't help but also wonder what the new recruits would be like. They were hopefully trained in some way or another and not total idiots when it came to fighting as rarely did people know what they were doing when they joined. Thankfully Raiden and Danny both had grown up in the notorious gang and therefore knew how to take care of themselves better than most mafia kids ever would. Having powers helped of course, but still.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daniel Wing Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Byte
Image

The chance of being stared at was reaching major uncomfortable levels as Mercy, along with Morgan and Daniel, sat in the midst of the food court to await the arrival of potential new recruits for their gang of misfits. With a sigh muffled by the mask secured on her face, the woman clad in makeshift Arctic gear scanned the surroundings patiently. It was uneasily quiet in the group, the trio staring at each other awkwardly, or maybe that was just her, for the other to start up some manner of conversation.

Mercy only perked up from her dozing off when Morgan, once again, made a remark on the woman's choice of wear. “Excuse me? You're the one who asked- Nay, demanded I came along.” The woman retorted with grump, though her boss' tiring remark on her dress sense wasn't what caught her initial attention. Rather, the comment that came after that had peeked her interest. Morgan wasn't keen on discussing his out-of-the-blue 'solution' right now, however, and Mercy simply nodded in agreement to talk about it on a later date. “I'll keep you to that.”

Shifting her body to a more comfortable position, Mercy let out a short chuckle when Daniel offered to mess with the potential new recruits. “Let me guess, does it involve you changing into something freaky?” Mercy asked, her ruby eyes glancing over her fellow Wicked. “I think I got that covered.” She added jokingly.

“If anyone shows up, that is.” Recruitments like these were never really that fruitful, and only a handful of willing misfits dared to show up or even knew the Wicks were recruiting. Everything was done in secret, so it was no wonder this method bare little to no results. Letting out another sigh, Mercy went back to her train of thoughts that now included what Morgan could've meant with a solution to her 'problem'. She wasn't going to hold her breath for it, though.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daniel Wing Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe

Earnings

0.00 INK

Qynna walked out from a shadow inside the mall. After her experience with the gang in New York she was finally admitting to herself that she needed some back-up on this particular situation. When she heard about a this group when she arrived in Los Angeles Qynna dug a little deeper on who they were. It wasn't easy to find out, but sine she herself has powers the information came a lot easier to her than if she didn't. She found out that this group was filled with people like her, people with powers, and that if she wanted to talk to them and possibly join their group, or in her case get some back-up, she needed to meet them here at this time.

The mall was pretty close to being empty, probably better that way because if there's a group of people who have powers getting together in a public place you don't want there to be a lot of witnesses. Qynna was nervous to say the least, not so much because she had never met these people and were unsure of their intentions, she dealt a lot of those kind of people in the past, no it was more the problem with her pride. By showing up here she was basically declaring that she was in too deep and she couldn't handle this situation herself, that she was too weak. This was the first time in her whole life that she had had to do something like this; to ask for help. Even in situations where it looked like she might not make it she never asked for help because asking for help for her, was basically equivalent to saying she was too weak.

She paced back and forth in front of a store, just slightly down from the food court. Her breath was a bit heavier and her face was slightly flushed with shame. She was biting her lip and wished beyond anything they would allow smoking in the mall, but of course they didn't, which only set her nerves a little more on edge than normal. Her reflection got caught in the window and she briefly stopped, trying to distract herself with how she looked. Nothing too out of the ordinary for her; a white button-up shirt, jeans, sneakers, and a black blazer, her hair was tied into two loose pig tails that were gently laying on her chest.

"Come on pull yourself together. They just think you're joining, they don't have to know anything about you coming to them for help. You can just say you need some friends or some kind of bullshit thing like that," she said to herself. With a slow intake of air she began walking towards the food court.

The food court was basically empty, though not entirely. There were a few people scattered around that were still eating. Qynna was searching, a bit frantically from the nicotine rush she was craving and from the shame she felt, looking for any sign as to who the Wicked Ones would be. Could they be the group by the trash cans, standing around talking? Probably not, if this was an interview thing they would most likely be sitting. This left still enough people to guess. She hadn't been given a description of what the leader looked like, which would have been very helpful at this moment. Then she spotted a woman. She was odd looking enough that Qynna figured she would have to be apart of the group she was looking for, and if not she didn't know who would be. The woman had green hair, wore a massive amount of clothing, and a gas mask. So deciding that she would go talk to this woman and see, if it turned out this woman was your somewhat average person, she was going to hit the road and find some other group to join. Qynna took a deep breath and walked over to the small group, trying to get a grip on a slight shaking beginning in her arms and hands.

"I don't suppose you guys are the 'Wicked Ones' are you?" Qynna asked, chewing her cheek as she counted the minutes till she could smoke and let the nicotine calm her down.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daniel Wing Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart

Earnings

0.00 INK

"Oh man! Why does this always happen to me!!!?" Shadow said to himself running around the mall completely lost, taking lefts and rights through the halls and such, as he was panicking. He had overheard some people in the past that a notorious gang called the Wicked Ones was going recruit members; Shadow wouldn't have come if it wasn't for the fact that the Wickeds had powers such has himself, this of course was a rumor but Shadow took this lead because he needed to find a place he could call home with friends, real friends who could understand him and not be afraid of him. He still of course was going to be cautious around them since he doesn't know much about them, what their goal was and such.

Today was the day they were recruiting and Shadow forgot about this and is know panicking "How can I get lost today of all days?!! Ahhhhhh!!!" he screamed looking around the area still running, "Food court, food court, food court! Gah!! Everything looks the same here!" Shadow keeps saying to himself trying to calm down but to no avail. "I've been here before... It's no use I'm going in circles...." Shadow says stopping and falling to his knees. He then take a deep breath and stands up "No I won't give up you can do this Shadow!" he says to himself and once again begins running.

Another 10 minutes pass and Shadow finds the kitchen, " Alright! Then the food court is close!" Shadow said to himself. Then runs again heading towards the food court seeing it finally before his eyes, "YES!" he screams mentally, then says "Wait, I'm here!!" running through the entrance and into the food court "Sorry I'm late I got a bit- " Shadow says before abruptly tripping on his own feet falling face first on the ground and sliding a few feet on his face, "Lo...st...." he added after he stopped sliding, feeling his face hot. "Ow...." he said in agonizing pain, he then looked up face being a bit red from his fall and 10 point slide though his face was unscathed just red. He saw a few people there as he expected he was late he only hoped this didn't matter.

He stood up and cleaned the dust and others things he got on his cloths from falling and rubbed his face a bit and also cleaned it, he then fixed his straight jacket rolling up the sleeves a little under his elbows, glancing at the people around him seeing a few who caught his eye; they were together a group of 4 people 3 were sitting and one is standing, one them had short spiky brown hair and fair skin, he wore glasses and was sitting on a plastic chair with a lollipop in his mouth, another was sitting on a run down chair next to the one with glasses he had tan skin with blond shaggy hair, the other one caught Shadows eye more than most she was seemingly a female sitting with the other two, she had lime green hair with ruby red eyes which isn't seen that often she wore a gas mask on her face and many cloths on this was a bit weird but then again this is coming from the guy wearing a straight jacket so he shouldn't talk, lastly there was another female with long pale pink colored hair also with red eyes. Shadow assumed they where part of the Wicked Ones since they had this strange feeling to them. Shadow approached this group with a smile on his face " Hello! Am I late too late to join the Wicked ones? " he said to them, his face still being a bit red from his wipe out.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daniel Wing Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Artik
Lanky legs carried themselves through the mall with a vague sense of destination. The amber optics however, that should have been seeking out those he was to be meeting here were far to busy rolling skyward.

"Yeah, yeah. School's great Mom. Uh, ya' know - beautiful campus, beautiful ladies - "

Instant regret. Bad word choice. Recalculating.

As the phone was promptly held away from his ear, Alek scrunched his features and snickered. "Mom-Mom. I'm kidding, they're all disgusting hags. Every last one of 'em. I'm totally staying focused..on..uh..on my classes. I'm really digging...math. Yeah, Calculus. Hah, who knew right? Mmhm. Yep. I know, Dad'll be proud." As the lies bled past white teeth, the Soon to be Wicked-Hopeful found himself advancing on the distinct smell of stale fried foods and idle chit chat amongst lazy mall employees. As the familiar voice of back home kept chattering in his ear about classes, and credits, and homesickness, a pale pink brow quirked with curiosity at the scene that began to unfold before him. The mall, which had appeared to be relatively abandoned thus far, had finally spat out some semblance of civilization. A small cluster of individuals one might not normally spot hanging out together in some ramshackle mall on the far side of town. As a result, something in his gut twisted with anticipation, nerves, and excitement. This had to be them? Not exactly shouting their business or obvious, but...not quite...subtle either. Finally, people who could help him figure out how in the hell he could properly control this mutation. People who were the same, at least sort of - kind of. People who been through this obscure genetic puberty before.

Instantly eyes flickered from face to face wondering what interesting ability and persona was hidden behind each guise. So distracted Alek had become, he'd completely forgotten his worried mother was still on the phone.

"..huh? Ma - what? Sorry! Bumped into a classmate, he needed - ."

And there went Shadow, whose name at the moment was lost on Alek as the black and red haired mutant went skidding past the toes of his shoes kicking up the unmopped dust and grime that mall food courts were famous for.

" -- a hand... Gotta go Mom, study group." Double blinking, technological device quickly stuffed into the linty pocket of his jeans, said hand would be offered to the guy who in turn scrambled to his feet post-haste. It was hard to miss the guys introduction at least, and obviously the phrase 'Wicked One's struck his ears and caught the Polish youth's attention. That was the name of the group his father had mentioned. Silencing the phone that buzzed in his pocket, Alek would hoist and slide his rear end across and atop the nearest food court table to the smattering of individuals. Resting elbows atop knees, and sporting an amused and enthusiastic grin, he'd jab a thumb in Shadow's direction whilst assessing the reactions of those present and accounted for. "Yeah - what he said.".

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daniel Wing Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Aleksandr Zalewski

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Renmiri
Asteria

[I'm climbing up the walls 'cause all the shit I hear is boring, all the shit I do is boring, all these record labels boring--]

Earbuds and mildly disinterested thoughts in hand, Aster wandered her way through the mall; catching (ignoring) drifts and coat-tails of wannabe illusions in her wake. She wasn't so much lost as having been ill-informed, as if 'meeting somewhere in that mall at around quarter to two' was even remotely specific. 'I guess I'm lucky that the street rats knew anything at all. Goes to show.' Perhaps it was a sign of her indifference that things weren't really working out-- like, maybe this wasn't the time to follow up with a split-second decision when she was grossly apathetic to the (heroic) cause-- 'But I'm bored to hell and anything goes,' apparently. (The ability for her to be motivated by her unmotivated nature had amused her, when she'd offhandedly decided to shack up with the Wicked Ones.)

While the mall was by no means full --it probably never would be, considering the dirt and grime-- it was surprisingly labyrinthine; Aster had already bumped into some red-headed teenager several times, an obviously lost kid mumbling about a food court. At this point, she'd kind of figured that, you know, 'shit happens. If I don't find them, then obviously this wasn't a good idea. Nothing to go on about.' And she was just about to debate the pros and cons of having to be invested in something (for the nth time) when she finally stumbled by the food court, and then the literal example through Shadow's skid on his face. The rest, as they say, was history.

'Real subtle, guys. Real subtle.' From half way across the court she could already see the makings of an particularly weird get-up (gas mask and gear, really?) and the addition of two guys at their table; including the unmistakable red mane of the dude she'd seen around. The amount of uncommon hair colours seated at the group alone seemed to make them conspicuous, particularly to a kid looking for strangeness (as most superpowered people tend to be eccentric, for some odd reason). 'And it's pretty hard to miss someone saying 'Wicked Ones', anyway.'

One arguably concerning moment of doubt later, Aster came up beside the female half of the pink-haired duo; earbuds down across her neck and the last whisper of [it's what you see, I know if I'm haunting you, you must be haunting me--] tickling in her ears. She wasn't one for presentation, and probably didn't seem like much with a worn hoodie and jeans/general unkempt everything (not to mention, the vaguely unenthusiastic expression on her face). It almost made her want to plead 'wrong table', 'but what the hell. This probably won't kill me. Probably.' She was this close to cringing.

Instead, Aster creatively offered: "Right. What they said." Obviously enchanted by the very idea, this one.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Daniel Wing Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Raiden Wing Character Portrait: Asteria Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Aleksandr Zalewski

Earnings

0.00 INK




Image




Cain had, as usual, woken early. Today was quite the big day, after all. Today there would be a recruitment drive, and Cain knew what that really meant. While the others would be able to frolic about with their peers, for Cain, it just meant more work. More favors to be called in from the Police Department, more secret phone calls to the chief about the Wicked's movements just so they wouldn't get accidentally arrested, and more general housework. Though Cain had himself come up with the moniker of, "The Black Butler," he did resent how everyone treated him like a nuisance or a servant. Perhaps a display of authority was needed, but things like that could wait, after all, there was quite a bit of work to be done. Rubbing his milky eyes, and yawning loudly, Cain stretched, feelings his muscles loosen and the knots in his spine pop. Sighing contentedly, Cain stood, and began the process of getting the Wickeds ready for the day.

Cain picked up his combination crutch/cane, and made his way over to the dresser which sat across from his bed. Cain got himself dressed in his standard attire. A pressed, white, linen shirt, a herringbone patterned vest, black slacks, shiny black shoes with matching socks, a black suit jacket, and a purple tie. Cain made sure to wrap his card holster around his waist, allowing the deadly weapons to be hidden from sight during Cain's daily activities. Subtlety was key after all.

His clothes and cards at the ready, Cain washed his face, and sat at the desk in his room. While Cain's deck of thirteen cards was the most powerful tool he possessed, there are other uses for cards as well. Reaching into his drawer, Cain pulled out a Tarot deck, and began to handle the cards. He shuffled, riffled, washed, and cut the deck, allowing his energies to permeate the cards. While there was no real magic going on here, Cain did believe that the cards allowed him to focus his mind and divine certain tidbits about the day. Laying out a simple Cross of Kells, Cain focused on Morgan's face, and thought to himself, "What results might today's recruitment bring?" As his hands felt the cards, Cain read their Braille markings, and smiled.

After Cain had finished his morning rituals, he made his way to the Wicked's kitchen, where he would prepare all the day's meals in advance. While it was time consuming, it freed up the rest of the day to do other work that Morgan might find more pressing. Cain chuckled to himself as he thought about Morgan in a hurry. "A most amusing thought indeed. When has that man ever rushed?" Cain laughed again. It was rather funny. Though the director was quite a powerful, and busy man, he never seemed to do anything he didn't want to do. He wrote his own story everyday, and marched it to the beat of his own drum. Cain admired that about him. He was always perfectly at ease, never worried that things might not work out. Of course, he hadn't always been like that, but it had been so long ago, that Cain had almost forgotten. Pausing in the middle of his chopping, Cain sighed. It had been a simpler time then.

The rest of Cain's culinary preparations passed peacefully. He chopped, stirred, sautéed, spiced, flambéed, roasted, and fried effortlessly, and with dazzling efficiency. Cain had only taken up the cooking lessons on a dare, as a joke. He had never known just how useful they would be to him. Cain chuckled as he remembered the first disaster of a plate that he had put before Morgan. They had both looked at each other for a short moment before laughing hysterically and ordering pizza instead. Though Cain was blind, he was far from helpless, and his current skill in the kitchen was more than enough testimony to that statement of fact. As he was just putting the finishing touches on tonight's dinner, who else should walk in, but the director himself. Cain recognized him from the rumbling of his stomach and the pattern with which he walked. The director had a very distinct stride, and his growling stomach was ever-complaining about its need to be filled. Wiping off his hands, and turning to the sound of the rumbling, Cain smiled and greeted his friend. "Hello Morgan, hungry? I can't say I'm surprised." Cain chuckled at his own joke. "However, if you're getting hungry, that must mean it's nearly lunchtime, which means we should be going soon. I'm right behind you." Before he left, Cain made sure to knock twice on Mei's door. He said simply, "We're heading out Mei. I'm sure you don't want to come with, but do remember to eat something while we're out. I've prepared any number of dishes you might like, they're in the fridge, all wrapped up to stay fresh. All you have to do is heat them up if you get hungry." She didn't say anything, but then again, she rarely did anymore these days.



Having arrived at the Mall, Cain was immediately paired with Raiden, and made to keep watch and to mind the perimeter. Luckily, in a mall such as this, roughly an hour after most lunch breaks ended, the mall was quite empty. It was a weekday, after all, and people other than the Wickeds did have to work. There was the occasional shopper, or group of kids playing hooky, but nothing Cain found necessary to worry about. Cain smiled as Raiden teased the groups of boys they passed. She was so vivacious and sassy. "Don't get their hopes up so high, Miss Raiden. It's awful rude to make boys like that so excited for nothing." Once more Cain laughed at his own joke, but it was all good fun, a harmless jibe meant to make Raiden feel good about herself. "While I don't seem to find anything too dangerous here with us today, it might behoove us to remain on watch until our little recruitment is over. I'll send Chess to relay that message to Morgan. Though it is rather boring, do remain vigilant Miss Raiden."

At that, Cain reached inside his jacket, as one might to reach for their wallet, or their cigars, and flicked open the lid of his Card Holster. Finding the third card, Cain pulled the ceramic tile out from the stack, and flipped the card in his hands once, twice, before pulling his sleeve up ever so slightly, and sliding the sharp edge of the card along his wrist. The blood price extracted, Cain allowed the necessary blood to drop into the card. After Cain had allotted the appropriate amount of blood, a small lick of purple flames bathed the wound, sealing it up, and leaving a thin, pale scar. As the ink and blood began to bubble and congeal, Cain whispered the activation phrase, "Number three, the Sign of Despair, come forward." The card bust into purple flames, and a small symbol appeared over Cain's right hand, a circular mark, the sign of despair, and a Roman numeral, number three. As the flames from the card faded from existence, it revealed Cain's familiar. Once the blood had finished binding to the ink within the card's picture, it became reality, a small blob of swirling and fluctuating color. The shape became more and more defined, until the fully formed cat was as real as any other, floating in midair before Cain. Cain placed his hand in his pocket so as to hide the glowing symbol, the mark of his familiar. The ritual complete, Ches, the Cheshire cat, dropped to the ground, and glared sullenly at Cain before making his way across the Food court and jumping up onto Morgan's lap.

Though the cat wore an apathetic, hopeless expression, it was rather handsome. Further, such an odd looking cat simply walking up to a human would have been quite queer any other time at all, especially one who looked so depressed. Further, and rather strangely, the cat spoke. "The master wishes me to tell you that he finds nothing to report, but that he'll keep watch until your meeting is done. While I personally think it's a waste of your time, if you tell me anything you might want him to know, my thoughts will be transmitted back to the master, provided I stay within 200 meters of him. Also, though I didn't think you'd want to, would you mind petting me? The master never does it right... That's my luck though, isn't it, I'm forced to work for that man, bound to his side for the rest of his life, and yet, he's go no idea how to treat his pets. Typical..."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daniel Wing Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Aleksandr Zalewski Character Portrait: Kelsier Achylis

Earnings

0.00 INK

Kelsier laid on the floor tossing and turning. It was another one of 'Those' nights. No matter what he did Kelsier couldn't calm enough to get to sleep there was simply to much going on in his head right now. Tomorrow was the day of the Wicked Ones recruitment meeting. He'd already decided he was going to show up, but that didn't mean that the Wicked Ones would accept him into the group. After all he had almost no control over his abilities why would a group want him. The rest of the night slowly ticked away as Kelsier continued rolling around on the floor of his abandoned building.

The next morning Kelsier packed up everything he had with him. Weather he was accepted into the Wicked Ones or not this was the last night he spent in the broken down building. As he walked out the door of his 'room' he pulled a loose hoodie over his head throwing the hood up. Slowly he wandered onto the street to look for some food checking his pockets he sighed. "No money I'm the only person stupid enough to run away without bringing any money for food." He sighed deeply ignoring the growing rumbling coming from his stomach.

It was a long and slow journey to the Mall where the meeting was taking place mainly due to Kelsier's taking back alleys and roads trying to avoid as as many people as possible. The closer Kelsier got to the mall the more nervous he got. He checked his watch, probably the only thing he brought from home that would have any real value. 12:30. It was almost time and Kelsier was still a ways away from the mall. Silently cursing himself he began to run through the alley that would dump him out in the mall's parking lot. As he ran a strand of hair fell into his face. Not normally a problem but the hair was red.

Kelsier froze in his tracks staring at the strand of hair. "No, this can't happen now I have to go meet them. I'm done running away. Someone there will be able to teach me I'm sure of it." The strand of hair slowly gave way back to its normal white color and Kelsier took a deep breath and resumed his approach to the mall. It had taken almost an entire hour but he'd finally arrived at the mall.

As he walked up to the doors he pulled the hood of his sweater securly down over his head and walked quickly through the doors heading for a table at the back of the food court where hopefully he wouldn't draw any extra attention to himself. He sat looking around trying to see if he could identify any of these 'Wicked Ones.' There were some odd looking people scattered through the mall. As the time clicked closer Kelsier began to get nervous again luckily his hair was hidden under his hood so hopefully no one would notice that it had again turned a dull red. The closer the time came the more nervous Kelsier became, he began locating the exits making sure if things went south he'd be able to get out quickly.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daniel Wing Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Aleksandr Zalewski

Earnings

0.00 INK

Morgan


He grinned at Mercy’s response and chuckled at Daniels, already the day seemed to be a good one. Everyone was in relatively good moods but Morgan could tell that the both of them were skeptical, well Mercy was anyway, that there might not even be recruits. “Nah, don’t say that Mercy you’ll jinx us.” Shortly after saying that, one of Cain’s cards popped up out of nowhere it seemed plopping himself down in his lap.

Surprised by the sudden appearance of Ches, Morgan glanced over towards the store he knew Cain and Raiden were waiting at. Looking back down at the cat, “Is there something wrong?” shortly after asking that, the cat gave him a full report along with an explanation of how pointless it was to hold the meeting. “Well now, don’t be like Mercy. Like I told her you’ll jinx us with your depressing thoughts. But I’ll pet you but don’t complain if I do it wrong.” Morgan chuckled quietly at the cat before resting his hand on his back and started to stroke his fur.

Not long after Morgan started to pet Ches a girl (Qynna) with pink hair appeared in front of them. She wore a simple outfit and at first Morgan simply thought she was over to question Mercy’s appearance but the next words that left her lips brought a sly smile to his face. “I don't suppose you guys are the 'Wicked Ones' are you?" Morgan looked up at her, stopping his hand above Ches’s soft fur. But before he could answer a commotion went up a few yards away from where he and the others were sitting.

The poor kid tripped over his own feet heading towards their direction and was sent skidding across the floor a couple feet on his face. Morgan laughed aloud seeing the kid (Shadow) pop right back up with a question and a greeting, “Hello! Am I late too late to join the Wicked ones?” Morgan chuckled, “Depends who’s asking.” Morgan grinned and looked over at Mercy then Daniel to see how they were reacting to the guy.

Not long after his question two other people showed up, one (Asteria) besides the first girl, while the other showed up next to the guy who just tripped. The two of them agreed with what he (Shadow) had just said but only the guy (Alek) looked to be enthusiastic about saying it. Morgan smiled and leaned back in his chair, taking the lollipop out of his mouth, he looked the four of them over. Hmm they look like a fun bunch. He bent down a bit over Ches and whispered in the cats ear, “You know what to do.” He made sure to keep his voice low so only Daniel and Mecry could hear him. Morgan didn’t want the newcomers to worry about his cryptic words. Watching Ches jump off his lap and head towards his master’s direction, Morgan looked back over at the four standing before him.

“So I’m guessing you guys are here for the meeting eh? Well I can tell you that you’ve come to the right place. And here we thought no one would come, right Mercy? he motioned over towards the green-hair woman. “So tell me what brings you on down here, I’m curious as to how you guys managed to hear about us. Not that I’m worried you’re the Feds or anything but hey you gotta take precautions am I right?” He motioned once more but towards the four of them, Morgan focused his attention on the last girl (Asteria) to arrive. “So what brings you here little lady?” he asked.

Hearing her answer, Morgan looked over at the clumsy one (Shadow), “I saw your fall earlier, hope you’re okay. What brought you here?” getting his answer he looked over at the girl (Qynna)with pink hair. “Sorry for not answer your question earlier but as you can see this guy over here kinda made a commotion and I have a rather short attention span. What in the world convinced you to listen to the rumors?” And finally he turned to the guy with red hair (Alek), “And you? Who were you talking to earlier, if it’s just a little something personal then you don’t have to answer my question.”

Morgan popped back the lollipop back in his mouth, leaning forwards in his chair, he rested his elbows on his knees and folded his hands in front of his face. “The reason I’m asking you is so I can tell the boss of what sort of people are joining in and whether or not he’ll want you to join us. Not that your reasons weren’t good enough but you see it isn’t up to me.” Every word he said was a total lie, something he did routinely with every recruit meeting they had. Just to make sure none of them were spies or something of that sort, Morgan looked at Daniel and Mercy, “So tell me what you two think, should we tell the boss?”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daniel Wing Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Aleksandr Zalewski

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Byte
Image

He was having a great time at her expense, wasn't he? A grin began to form behind the shroud of her gasmask as Mercy felt especially talkative when Morgan had to jokingly chastise her. “Don't look at me...” She began, managing a nonchalant shrug directed at the Wicked leader. “You told me this very morning you weren't expecting anyone to-” In the midst of her attempts to bait Morgan in the feint hopes that he'd be up for some harmless bickering, the first of the unexpected recruits had approached the less than subtle group. “show... up...”

“I don't suppose you guys are the 'Wicked Ones' are you?”

“Nah...” Mercy instantly responded to the young girl disinterestedly, turning her head to glance at the first arrival. “We're the freak fandango orchestra, but I like to think the two are similar. So you're at the right address.” She allowed a short laugh to echo through her gasmask, hoping she'd appreciate a joke, albeit a terrible one.

“Sweet hair dye, by the way.” Mercy managed to remark on the girl's pink hair, before the once peaceful scene was abruptly interrupted by the antics of an unfortunate fellow who skid across the floor face first. She could only giggle at the ridiculous of that fall, but otherwise remained completely silent as Morgan took the opportunity to answer the man's question if he was running horribly late.

Not long after that, the interval between arrivals was getting shorter by the minute. As with the clumsy sod's somewhat painful entrance, two more had arrived to the table. Though only one in particular got her full attention. “The fuck?” Mercy exclaimed, raising a single eyebrow at the sight of the man ballsy enough to walk around with pink for a hair colour. “Did I miss something? Is this a recruitment, or the annual meeting of people with eccentric hair dyes?” Her eyes darted between the three with the more... out of the norm looks. The girl, pink-boy over here, and the clumsy sod who, although the least flamboyant out of them, sported black hair with red streaks.

Cool... Was all Mercy could think, before turning to Morgan who had begun starting the usual introductions and questions to the reason the recruits wanted to join. Too bad their dear leader was feeling particularly witty today. Cocking her head sideways and folding her arms, Mercy let out a sigh. “Just say yes already, Morgan. Your games are exactly the reason why we never recruit anyone.”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daniel Wing Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Aleksandr Zalewski

Earnings

0.00 INK

Qynna cracked a small smile at the green haired girl's joke, joking was a clue that she could start relaxing. "Well I play a mean timpani if you don't have one in your orchestra yet," she said leaning against the table. At the mention of her hair color Qynna was about to say thank you before she heard a commotion coming from behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see a guy with strikingly red hair fall on his face. Qynna cringed as if she could feel the pain on her own face, but the guy just jumped right back up and made his way quickly over to them. He asked if he was late, Qynna was biting her lip trying not to have an obvious amused smile show.

Shortly after he showed up two more people joined him, agreeing with his statement; a guy with pink hair and a girl that came up next to her. Seems like a started a new a trend, Qynna thought to herself as the spiky haired guy started to ask why everyone was joining. The girl with green hair spoke up about if they were recruitment or the "annual meeting of people with eccentric hair dyes". Qynna laughed a little, "We could start a wicked punk rock band if we wanted to," Qynna agreed. When the guy asking the questions got to her Qynna just shrugged, "Just tired of being alone ya'know?" She hoped desperately this reason was good enough, though she admitted to herself that she needed help doesn't mean that she has to state to the world that she's weak enough to ask for it. She would go about getting help her own way; a complicated and well thought out plan of getting people to feel the need to fight for her by becoming part of their group.

She listened to the other's reasons as to why they were joining, while also trying to stop the strong need for nicotine that was growing inside her. Sometimes she really did hate this almost nervousness that came with being addicted, but it's not like she had never tried to stop smoking, it's just that it never worked out and sooner or later she knew she would be smoking again.

After everyone was done speaking the spiky haired guy spoke up saying that they needed to talk with their boss before they could actually let them in the group. The way he had acted, Qynna thought for sure he was the boss; he was the one doing most of the talking and he seemed a bit more cocky than the others especially with that lollipop, even if the cockiness was just for show than anything else. However, she didn't say anything pointing him out on that fact, just kept quiet hoping that they would make a decision soon.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daniel Wing Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Aleksandr Zalewski

Earnings

0.00 INK

Shadow only blinked as more and more people began to show up, then a grin appeared on his face 'I wasn't late!' Shadow thought. Hearing "Yeah - what he said." Shadow glance over seeing a pink hair guy sitting on a table, 'Another recruit? At least I'm not alone." Shadow thought before glancing at the other way after hearing another person say "Right. What they said." looking at the source Shadow looks over at the woman who had a light color of Blond to her hair his grin getting larger and larger as more people had appeared. Shadow was happy more people were coming in at least he wasn't the only one who heard of this meeting and best of all he assumed everyone here had an ability such as him, maybe he could finally find a place where he can relax and call home; maybe though it all depends on what these guys intentions are obviously Shadow is going to be weary of them, he wont give too much information, since they could be out to hurt or capture us ability holders.

Shadow glance at the lime haired girl who he assumes her name is Mercy as the man with glasses refereed to her as such and the pink haired one as they were having a weird conversation about an orchestra and making a punk rock band Shadow couldn't help but to chuckle a bit, then Mercy commented on the variety of hair colors Shadow looked around everyone had a weird color, "I for one can say my hair is quite natural though very rare... Like my eyes!" Shadow said to the lime haired woman.

Shadow then glanced over back at the man with glasses as he began to ask questions the first one to be questioned was the last girl to come by the light blond haired girl Shadow kept quiet and glanced over at the woman as she answered with only a slight smile on his face. Then the man then directed himself to Shadow and asked him a few questions as well, after hearing them he smiled a little wider and fixed his scarf, " Great I though I was late for the recruitment I got a tiny tiny bit lost on my way to getting here..." Shadow said scratching his face a bit pausing for a moment then he added "I'm Fine! I've had way worse falls than that trust me ehehe! Hmmm I came to learn about this meeting a few days back, I overheard some people saying that a notorious gang called the Wicked Ones was going to recruit today, I would usually ignore rumors like that but when I heard they also had abilities I made it my top priority to check it out! Since well I really want to find a place I can call home and be myself with people like me and not worry about being called a freak or weirdo. " Shadow said to the man hopping he had answered correctly.
Shadow had thought the man was the leader since he was asking the questions maybe he thought wrong, though one thing's for sure though, he must be way up in the ranks and be in the group for a long time to let him take over the Recruitment, same goes for Mercy and the blond haired man. "They must be trusted individuals within the gang." Shadow thought, but Shadow would find out soon hopefully if he got to join.

As the others were being question Shadow also kept quiet and listened to them, not wanting to be rude or anything. He glanced over around the mall looking at nothing in particular then yawned a bit placing his hand over his mouth as pure custom before his yawn, even after all that's happen in truth Shadow didn't sleep that much the day before since he didn't actually know where this mall was located so he spent a lot of time trying to find it.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daniel Wing Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Aleksandr Zalewski

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Artik
Well, he'd found the right place and consequently the right people - not a half bad start to today's little endeavour. Though, he wasn't sure what the next step was if he didn't pass this obviously rigorous recruitment inspection. He really only had two options in that case - Call back home, and shatter the facade that he wasn't actually attending college, or pretend he got in and try to convince this gang of misfits he was worth it anyway. But, lets not jump ahead - maybe he could make a stellar first impression.

As one of five, Alek sat or rather slouched with a natural sense of nonchalance. Elbows rested atop knees and he head was on the swivel, taking in either comrade or competition. The guy that had taken a mean digger, the blonde music buff, the hooded fella', and the gal that could play a mean timpani.

"--What the hell's a timpani?"
Came the out of place inquiry, as his posture eased back, shoulders rolling. Alek's head fell to a slight tilt, brow quirking as the conversation seemed to ramp up and get more on point. He'd apparently have to wait to have his question answered, but in the meantime, the amber optics now surveyed the Wicked group themselves. There was the interviewer, a rather eccentric individual, he could have sworn there was some sort of talking cat, and a woman with a gas mask. Now that - was interesting. Unabashed, the young man's brows furrowed at the contraption strapped to her face, analyzing it with the little knowledge he had of such technology.

The hair joke registered a little late, and he breathed out a chuckle, fingers brushing stray pale pink strands out of his eyes just in time for Morgan to fire a question in his direction. Who had he been speaking to, why was he here, how he'd hear about them. Responses would come out of order, and after a moment's consideration. After all, he wasn't about to just say he was speaking to his Mom was he? Talk about embarrassing.

"Why? Ah, ya' know..comradery.. Birds of a feather n' all that? If anyone thought he was joking, the sincere grin on his features might have swayed such opinions. "As for the phone call --" Alek's shoulders were tossed back in a shrug, fingers fidgeting with the hairs at the back of his neck. "Half of the folks back home think I'm getting some sort of college degree right now. Instead, I'm hanging out at a mall with a group of genetic anomalies. So yeah,.. screw calculus, hoo-rah super mutants."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daniel Wing Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Aleksandr Zalewski

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Renmiri
Asteria

'A sarcastic bunch, ha.' She snickered, face and body language morphing from the hesitant 'maybe I should get the fuck out of here' into less like the trip was such a bad idea. Better than the time a kid had made like Wolverine, anyway. Had given her a headache (and enough second-hand embarrassment) for days.

“So what brings you here little lady?”

An eyebrow involuntarily went up. 'Little lady?' Aster had half a mind to literally credit her boredom, but god knows that'd make a pretty horrible first impression. Nah, might as well make it a joke or something later, like 'once I joined a super-villain hunting group because I was bored trololol'. Or maybe not, that's kind of a dick move. Right, she should probably answer the question from the guy with the spiky 'do (and probably start taking him seriously, yes)-- "I've got nothing better to do, figured that someone like me might come in handy for a group like yours." She paused, thought for a second. "And, you know. People."

Then it went to everybody else, in which case she listened semi-attentively and inconspicuously shifted on the balls of her feet (as uncomfortable with being in too plain of a view as she is). The others she didn't think too much about --easier to ignore and tamp down stray illusions that way-- but remembered a few impressions, like 'Black and red likes to talk a lot, huh?' and 'College degrees, eh. Wicked Ones, potentially life-threatening, but obviously the better choice.' The sarcastic duo were already accounted for (meh, appearances. Whatever.), and through it all she still couldn't really see spiky 'do as the leader. Go-to guy, sure, but leader? Nah. (Probably has something to do with 'little lady'. She's heard that her entire life from assholes on the street, in which case 'fuck you' and a middle finger.)

In the end, well. Aster wasn't particularly looking forward to what she'd gotten herself into, but it was entertaining already to be sure. The deliberating, though? Down to dirt she didn't really care, but began to itch to play with the worn switchblade in her pocket. Her illusions always made her a bit antsy to be in congregating areas, not that anything was out of the ordinary. She just liked the extra insurance of appearances (less people willing to mess, or even look at, a girl with a knife).

If she already gunned for a good impression, she might as well keep it for the span of one conversation, right? Aster settled for fidgeting with her earbuds instead, silent as she watched. (And wished, prematurely, that they'd hurry up; she was a solitary, glorified street-rat with little love for malls, after all. Unless she's stealing, in which case she's all for it.)

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Kelsier Achylis

Earnings

0.00 INK

Ches was rather enjoying himself. Though Morgan didn't quite pet him exactly the way he liked, he was still a far cry better than Cain. Chess began to purr softly, thoroughly enjoying being pet. However, just as he was about to get bored of it, Morgan stopped. Ches looked up, surprised. Usually, people erred on the side of petting him too much. It was a welcome change. Ches actually felt like giving Morgan a compliment, however, that sentiment faded shortly. "You know what to do." Ches sighed, and grumbled inaudibly. "Yes, yes, right away." He said incredibly sarcastically in response to Morgan, and began trotting off to find Cain once more. As the grumpy cat walked, he noticed a boy sitting at one of the tables. This boy wore a hood, and Ches couldn't quite make out his face, but one thing was certain. He was watching the now assembled group of Wickeds. Not exactly the best way to make it to Ches's nice list, but hey, the kid must not have known any better. Relaying the information back to Cain, Ches sighed when his master gave him the obvious command. Scout the boy. Make sure he isn't a threat. Ches sighed once more. What a pain. Silently, Ches padded over to the boy's spot. After a moment of watching him from beneath an adjacent table, Ches took a few steps towards the boy, then jumped up on his table, sitting directly between the boy's face and the group of Wickeds.

Kelsier had been quite absorbed in his observing the group he assumed to be the 'Wicked Ones' that when a cat suddenly appeared in front of him he couldn't help but jump slightly in surprise. The cat had startled him, but it was only a cat after nothing to be afraid of. Kelsier began absentmindedly petting the cat alternating between scratching his ears and long strokes to the base of his tail. Apparently the cat was enjoying the attention as he began to purr rather loudly. "Well at least I can make someone happy huh?" He posed his quiet comment to the cat before returning to trying to observe the meeting going on.

Ches was, to say the least, rather impressed. Though Cain was mentally pushing him to investigate the boy, Ches could wait just a little bit longer. After all, it wasn't often that someone pet you as skillfully as this boy did. Ches purred loudly, and walked too and fro as the boy pet him. Ches was having so much fun, that he completely lost track of himself, and his body became intangible for a brief moment. The boy's hand had fallen through Ches's body, and landed with a small thump on the table below. It was only once the petting stopped that Ches had realized his boo-boo. However, Ches didn't want the boy to stop. He mewled once, twice, and finally could take it no longer. He spoke. "Come now, you mustn't be finished yet. I was having so much fun. It isn't everyday you meet someone who pets you just right."

At the sound of the cat's voice Kelsier jumped and was so surprised that his fox's ears decided to pop up and knock his hood off his head. "My-my hand just fell through you... and you can talk?! What's going on?" Kelsier began panicking not realizing that his fox's ears were now quite easily visible.

Ches had, apparently, startled the poor lad. What a pity. He was even so frightened that his little ears had knocked his hood right off. Ears? Upon closer inspection, the lad's hair was ruddy orange, and he sported the canine ears of a fox. "Ho, ho!" Ches said, quoting Cain, who had become rather excited. "Well isn't this an odd turn of events. Were you one of the potential recruits? Perhaps you're here to join the Wickeds? Here I thought you were some sort of spy or something... You aren't a spy, are you? It would be a shame to have to fight with you if you were. Especially since you're the only person I've ever met who manages to pet me just right."

Subduing his panic momentarily realizing that the cat was in fact not there to hurt him Kelsier began to calm down and his ears returned to their normal location and appearance. "I'm not a spy... I'd heard there was a recruitment meeting here today and was hoping to join... I don't want to fight any of you."

With that simple matter having been settled, Ches, who was quite pleased with himself, jumped down from the table and sat on the floor. He looked up at the boy, then spoke once again. "Then whatever are you doing all the way over here? Please do come join us." At that, Ches turned and began to walk towards the group.

As the cat walked away Kelsier stayed put in his seat unsure of weather to follow the cat or stay in the shadows and hope for the best.

After walking a short distance, he realized that there were no footsteps behind him. Apparently the petting artisan was shy, or something of the sort. Ches frowned, turning to face the boy. His tail twitched impatiently, and a slight edge colored his voice. this little reconnaissance mission had gone on quite long enough. "Well? Come come now, we haven't got all day, dear boy."

Kelsier nodded and stood quickly pulling his hood back up. "Umm... yeah sorry still a bit nervous." He followed close to the cat almost wishing that he could have stayed at his table and avoided all of this. 'But I need to learn how to control this and this is the only way I'll ever have a chance at it.' With his new found determination he followed the cat to the group his panic having fallen so much that his hair had returned to its normal white color.

Upon reaching the lovely little assortment of Wickeds, old and new, with his little grooming protege in tow, Ches jumped up onto the table and turned to face Morgan. Much to everyone's surprise, the cat spoke. "Do excuse me, while you were having your lovely little discussion I found someone snooping around. Well, not snooping per say, but he hadn't joined the rest of the group yet, and you know how my master gets. He informed me, and here I do quote, 'Ches you lazy, good-for-nothing lump, examine that boy this instant. We have to be sure he isn't a spy. If not...'" Quite theatrically, Ches held up his left forepaw and drew a line across his neck. He made a rather gruesome noise while he did it as well. Having finished, and looking rather pleased with himself, the Cat began to speak once again, clearing his throat before speaking. "End quote. Do excuse my language, it isn't mine you see. Dreadfully poor taste isn't it? Regardless, it turns out, the boy I found was here for the recruitment all along. Isn't that exciting. Now we come to the meat of the matter, Ladies and Gentlemen... I'm dreadfully sorry, you there with the short pink hair, are you male or female? I was curious you see, otherwise it would appear the population to be predominantly female, and then I needn't qualify you as... Wait, male, you say? How very droll! Look, that one's got pink hair, and yet it claims to be male! Delightful. Excuse, me, manners and all that. Oh my... if you could hear the words the master is using with me... I digress. Ladies, and you too gentle Sir, I have the pleasure of introducing...." Ches paused, unsure. He looks to Morgan, then to the boy he'd escorted. "I'm sorry dear boy, I don't appear to recall your name. Further, I don't think we've been properly introduced. Ahh, how incredibly awkward. Please, young Sir, do introduce your self."

Kelsier took a deep breath being careful not to make eye contact with any of the surrounding people. "I'm Kelsier. I don't really know what my ability is... but I've heard you're all special and figured this would be the best place to find help figuring out what it is and how to use it..." Kelsier fell into silence hoping that this would suffice for his introduction.

Once Kelsier, for that was in fact the boy's name, had finished introducing himself, Ches took the stand once again. "Lovely. Now that that's settled, I'm betting you're all curious as to how it is that I can talk. What a clever bunch you are. Ladies, and Gentlemen- I'm so terribly sorry, you there, Pinky, are you quite sure? Yes? Alright then, there's no need to be huffy. Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Cain, and I'm the boss's right hand... Cat." Having finished his little speech, much to his own amusement, Ches turned to Morgan and spoke once again. "Well, have they passed?" As soon as he finished his question, the cat burst into purple flames, which dissipated rather quickly. As soon as the flames were gone, it was plain to see that the talking cat had entirely disappeared. Instead, in it's place was a ceramic tile, with a wonderfully hand-painted, or recreation of the handsome cat which had, not long previously, been alive.

The real Cain, who had been slowly approaching the group in the food court, strode forward confidently in his top hat, suit, and walking stick. No sooner had the flames completely died out, revealing the painted tile, than a gloved hand reached down, in between Mercy and Morgan to retrieve the card, and returned it to its proper place, the shoulder holster under Cain's suit jacket. As he stuffed the card back in it's place, Cain turned to Morgan and spoke. "Was that little devil show-boating again? I'm terribly sorry. I can control them all properly, but sometimes their personalities manage to slip through for longer than entirely necessary." Turning to address the group, Cain spoke once more. "I'm dreadfully sorry to confuse you, but that Cat is named Ches, and he is not me. My name is Cain, and though he was lying through his teeth, Ches was correct. I am the Director's right hand man. I would also like to take this opportunity to apologize to anyone he's insulted. The little troublemaker usually always picks one. Deepest apologies, Sir. It was never my intention to let him insult anyone, but he always manages to get away with it somehow or another." Having finished, Cain took his place at Morgan's right side.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Aleksandr Zalewski Character Portrait: Kelsier Achylis Character Portrait: Aini Lestari

Earnings

0.00 INK

Morgan


He pouted at Mercy's deman, "Aw why do you have to be that way? You know I like having fin" His pout turing into a cheesy grin, at the pink haired (Qynna) girls joke. Morgan leaned forwards, elbows resting on his knees as while he listened to each of their replies. He wasn't too particular on their answers not long after Ches came back and jumped on the table. And right behind him was a younger looking kid, from Morgan's view he looked closer towards Mei's age than his own.

The gloomy felone soon went into a manoluge explaining the late arrival of the soon named Kelsier. Funny enough, Ches actually managed to get humurous with the pink haired fellow. Which earned the cat a large smile and a chuckle. It seemed Cain took over for a moment before Ches came back to his right state of mind. Hearing that one question he knew his good friend was going to ask, Morgan rubbed his chin in thought.

Then Ches went up in smoke, in his place was a ceramic tile that held the cats image. Soon after the man himself appeared, telling the newcomers of his role with the Wicked Ones. "Well it was quite the amusing insult, mind you (he motioned to Alek). Any how I don't think I've introduced my green-haired gasmask of a companion. As for me I'm Morgan the-" Right at that moment a loud crash could be heard from one of the hallways leading to a string of stores. Which was soon followed by a small explosion, immediately Morgan tensed but he sat where he was.

Soon enough the source of the newfound chaos popped up, it was pretty hard to miss them too. She was pretty hard to forgot but Morgan's face turned grim. Glancing over at Mercy, Morgan stood up one hand outwards signalling to the newcomers to stay where they were. "Looks like we've got company and its not the good kind."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Aini Lestari

Earnings

0.00 INK

It was time.

It was fucking time.

Everything was drenched in a hematic miasma. It wasn't just the sanguine issue of the corpses Aini was producing as habitually, as naturally as she produced every ragged, bitter inhalation and exhalation that came gasping out of her svelte, scarred lips, as though she were driven to a delighted breathlessness in anticipation of the massacre to come. No-- it wasn't just that. It engulfed every inch in her skull, choked up her throat like bile rising up from the pit of her stomach, it devoured every corner of her vision and seized a stranglehold upon her senses. It was everywhere-- she could barely hear anything, see anything, feel anything, shit, she could barely feel anything. It was like she wasn't even within herself, as though she were from some distant vantage point, witness to the carnage-- but it didn't feel illusory... no, no, that was all wrong, that was all bullshit. This wasn't dissociation. This wasn't out of body. This was real-- damn it, this was all that was real.

But that wasn't the only reason she was here. This kind of slaughter-- she'd done it time and time again. It was all that sufficed anymore-- it was all that worked. She... she had trouble remembering the way it had used to be, but she could remember that there had been a time that all it took to satisfy the ravening was just one lonely little murder-- one life extinguished, crushed out between the ruthless vice of her fingers. But it wasn't that way anymore: a single murder now was akin to offering up a saltine cracker to someone dying of hunger, a drop of water to someone adrift in a waterless desert. After that had no longer been enough, she could remember she had begun smashing in doors, breaking into houses, obliterating families and demolishing the building. And after that had no longer been enough... she'd begun doing this. Terrorism. Large-scale destruction. Mass murder. This was what it took.

Wait-- shit, she'd had a point here... uh... oh, yeah! But it was different this time. It wasn't just murdering a bunch of worthless little fucking sacks of meat. It wasn't just about leaving behind her macabre calling card amidst the smoldering carcass of what had once been a mall.

This time, they'd be here. She knew that. They'd have to be here. Her hands shook with an inexorable, almost puerile anticipation, even as they continued to divorce bodies of life, carving a swathe through the masses of flesh whose presences pressed in on her from all sides like a fucking... a fucking... like a fucking fever, like a delirium, like some kind of oppressive heat bearing down on her and wrenching sweat from her skin like water from a soaking rag-- but it didn't matter, no, it didn't matter right now. Because they were here. She could feel it in her very bones. They were here, and once she fought them, once she killed them... it would be satiation unlike any other.

Maybe it would all end there. Or maybe it would just get worse. She no longer really gave a damn which it was.

It had been mere moments since Aini had first battered through the wall of the mall's first floor (look, there's a time for using the front door, and there's a time for smashing through the wall; when in doubt, it's the latter). Dozens were already dead. Their carcasses littered the halls and courts of the mall, battered, broken, shattered, pulverised, reduced to nothing. She strode along amidst the corpses, contenting herself to murder only those too slow to avoid her even at her lackadaisical pace-- small children and elderly folks, mostly-- her gait unsteady and uneven, as though she were suppressing some dire urge to just completely lose it, throw it all to the goddamn wind and succumb wholly to the ravening as she had time and time again.

But it was worth it-- that much she knew, even as she rounded the next corner, and her eyes fell upon... them. An ecstatically perverse grin split across the hard features of her mien-- yes, they were there. Not all of them... not all that she remembered, but that was to be expected. New faces had emerged to replace some of the old ones, but the rest of veterans yet lingered, and... and she could still assign names to faces.

"Morgan," she managed to grind out between her teeth, her voice shuddering with uncontrollable anticipation. "Mercy... Butler... Kulakov..." A wheezing, ramshackle clamour of a laugh escaped her lips as she stepped toward them, ignoring the new cunts-- fuck them, they didn't mean shit. She was here for those four-- the ones she could remember, the ones she had so dearly dreamt of murdering time and time again-- and now, that auspicious occasion was upon them.

Finally, she could prove that she truly was transcendent-- that she truly was of the strong, that carnage truly was law.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Aleksandr Zalewski Character Portrait: Kelsier Achylis Character Portrait: Aini Lestari

Earnings

0.00 INK




Image




"Oh my..."

Though Cain had spoken quite calmly, he was, rest assured, worried. How long had it been since they'd seen... well, since he'd heard, something like that? Although Cain hadn't always been the fondest of Aini, he had to admit, albeit somewhat begrudgingly, that she did make a rather impressive entrance. Wheezing as if she hadn't smoked in weeks, and walking with a stumbling gait, she seemed ragged, and run down. Even worse, it didn't sound like it was just because of her particular penchant for distressed clothing. No, something was quite off about Aini Lestari, that much was definitely certain. Though Cain couldn't quite tell what, as he was, regrettably, without eyes at the moment, he could tell she was in some bad shape. "It would seem we have a visitor Morgan, and an unwanted one at that. What's your call? I suppose a good place for me to start would be with giving you an extra soldier." Though Cain's tone appeared playful, even calm, he was far from such things. Cain still remembered the last time he'd seen Aini. She was, to say the least, not currently vying for the honor of being at the top of Cain's prestigious, "Most Favorite Person in the Whole Wide World," list. As he finished speaking, Cain's entire body was wreathed in purple flames, a show of power. Though the flames weren't hot, they produced a powerful wind, which caused his clothes to ripple and flow. One hand firmly gripping the handle of his cane, the other gloved appendage snaked its way into Cain's jacket pocket and produced a card, the same one that he'd put away just now. As much as he hated to admit it, Ches was the best option in this situation. He'd have to be a complete idiot to try and match Aini's physical might with one of the incarnations of his own. She would tear that card apart, and Cain would have to make a new one. No, it would be better to oppose Aini with the untouchable Cheshire Cat. Less casualties that way.

As he always did, Cain slid the razor edge of the card against the skin of his wrist, allowing the blood to drip onto the card. Once the allotted amount of blood had been spilled, more purple flames licked Cain's wound, and the laceration healed over as if it had never existed in the first place. As handy as it was that the wounds closed themselves, Cain hated that he couldn't make the process hurt any less. Either way, such worries would have to wait. After all, there were other things to take care of at the moment. "Number three, the Sign of Despair, come forth!" At Cain's command, the card and blood burst into purple flames. Next, a small symbol appeared over Cain's right hand, a circular mark, the sign of despair, and a Roman numeral, number three. As the flames from the card faded from existence, it revealed Cain's incomplete familiar. Once the blood had finished binding to the ink within the card's picture, it became reality, a small blob of swirling and fluctuating color. The shape became more and more defined, until the fully formed cat was as real as any other, floating in midair before Cain. Once more, with a sullen glance, the Cat glared at Cain. "Aww..." The cat moaned with complaint. "First you put me away just as I was having fun, now you've brought me back just as I was settling down to take a nap. You really are the worst person I know..." Ches said grumpily. "That's enough Ches. You can nap later. Further, You're not to command me. I am your master and you would do well to remember it." Stymied, the cat remained silent. Cain was never this angry with him. Something very bad must be about to happen. Rather obediently, the Cat stepped out in front of Morgan, and scanned the room until its eyes found Aini. Seeing the threat, Ches growled angrily. It, like all the other familiars, shared Cain's memories, and Ches was just as unhappy with Aini and Cain was. "Ches, you are to obey Morgan's orders for the time being. I have some other business to take care of. Do I make myself clear?" Though the cat said nothing, it twitched its tail as a sign of agreement and understanding. "He's all yours Morgan. While you're taking care of that, I'll be securing the little ones. We can't have them off proving their worth against an adversary like this" In a softer tone, a whisper just for his Leader, Cain added. "Do be careful. Don't forget, that woman is capable of anything." Once that was taken care of, Cain turned and spoke to the new recruits.

"Alright now kiddies, stand back behind me please. What you see before you is one of our ex-members, and not exactly the friendliest one at that. It would behoove you to remain as far away from her as possible. I realize that some of you might be rather confident in your powers. Believe me, I applaud your bravery and confidence, but let us not be foolish." Cain said calmly, attempting to corral the new recruits behind him with his words. "That woman doesn't have a shred of mercy in her heart and is blessed with insane physical condition. She didn't set off any explosives when she entered the building. No, Aini most probably simply walked through the wall. If you engage her, she will tear your head off as soon as look at you. It's not an exaggeration. It's a fact." Cain hoped, beyond all hope, that none of the new recruits had any foolish notions about fighting with Aini. She wasn't someone even Cain, a seasoned Wicked, wanted to tangle with.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Aleksandr Zalewski Character Portrait: Kelsier Achylis Character Portrait: Aini Lestari

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Renmiri
Asteria

"Wait, hold up-- what the fuck? It's been literally twenty minutes and the Hulk's already here to kill you? Should I be impressed?" She felt like she should've seen it coming, or heard it coming, anyway-- like, where was all the screaming, the panicked masses running in the opposite direction, the tragic yet dutiful news reporters? But oh, right. Aster didn't need to see the trail behind Psychopath, much less peek inside an illusion, to come to the conclusion 'run the fuck away, fast'. It was only natural, after all. To a spiked powerhouse like that, anyone was basically a half-dead rabbit served up on a plate.

Perhaps with the adrenaline buzzing in her veins, some luck, and maybe if she was really careful with her illusions-- Aster knew she had a chance of getting out of there. It wouldn't be anything that she'd never done before, you know? Saving her own skin, saying 'to hell with the world', playing survivor for a game that taught people what not to be. Psychopath? Not her problem. People like that-- people like that were like the meth heads, the street rats who shot themselves higher until they burned up in the sun; fucking up everyone else every step of the way (dying without even the decency of paying back her couple hundred, assholes). Psychopath would kick the bucket eventually, under a Wicked One or a U.S. nuke. Aster didn't really need to do anything at all.

She certainly didn't owe anyone anything. 'Less even some heroic group of misfits looking for a place in the world.'

But, as she watched the weird classy dude summon the weird cat with an attitude (Despair, was it? Didn't he seem too cute for that?), she realized that damn it, she was hesitating. And not just because of the whole 'bravery and confidence' thing ('Pfft, right.'), but rather at the absurdity of it all-- Aster almost wanted to laugh, because of course the arch-villain had an 'insane physical condition' and had it personal with the Wicked Ones. That amusement though, that was the point. When was the last time that she'd wanted to laugh in the face of a bloodthirsty, partially insane psychopath? Longer than it should've been acceptable. 'Life's fucking boring, what's a girl to do?'

So Aster broke no argument when she stood behind Cain's shadow, decidedly not leaving and yet not enthusiastically volunteering herself either. She'd stay, sure, but it didn't seem like she was needed anyway; and this was as good of a time as any to see what she'd really signed up for (or what the Wicked Ones were made of). And by the sound of the ringing in her head (something painful altogether, like nails on a chalkboard), she knew that this time-- if she let up, this time her illusions would definitely go out of control. Psychopath's bloodlust was on a whole other level, and even with the somewhat far proximity she was still manhandling Aster's ability along.

It didn't take a genius to figure that Psychopath probably wanted (and therefore, would have seen, felt) a delicious massacre of the Wicked Ones, but it sure as hell wouldn't stop there. Aster was almost curious, whether it would end with the collapse of L.A., the state, or the country altogether. 'Or would it even end?' It was probably better not to know.

Aster winced, a hand to her head, as she made an effort to not look at Psychopath (it's worse when she does); cringing at the increasing volume of internal screeching. Her control had always been precarious at best, but this time it'd just have to be worse, given how she wasn't running away. She muttered, "'As far away from her as possible', right. Would the other side of the city count?" Astor was poised, alert, probably at the furthest back in the group; conspicuously inconspicuous, so to speak. Evidently uninterested in getting involved with Psychopath, anyway.

If one cared to look, it'd be fairly obvious that she was fighting something supernatural-- and so she vaguely offered to anyone concerned (or within earshot):

"If I lose it, knock me out. Doesn't matter how, you'll know. And I'm fine."


Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Aleksandr Zalewski Character Portrait: Kelsier Achylis Character Portrait: Aini Lestari

Earnings

0.00 INK

"Knock you out? Okay...if that's what you want," Qynna said. She was a bit unsure how to go about this situation. Her ego and pride told her to ignore the guy's orders, and the fact that they were orders made her grind her teeth a little, but then again this woman was typically someone that Qynna would more than happily run away from instead of fight. But she needed these "Wicked Ones" to save her ass from those gangsters in New York and they couldn't do that if they were dead. All signs were pointing to helping them out, but her feet wouldn't move, and the girl with the pink hair was uncertain if it was out of fear or if she for once was actually going to obey someone else's orders. Either way her feet not moving was pretty embarrassing for her.

Qynna looked around at the others, at the moment none of them seemed to be moving either, and Hell they didn't know that she wanted to move but couldn't, they weren't fucking mind-readers...or at least she hoped none of them were. So she just sat down, trying to look as though she had decided to not do anything, but instead just watch the scene as it was going to play out.

"Well since the mall has gone to shit, I guess there's no stopping me from smoking," Qynna said, she wasn't entirely certain if it was loud enough for other's to hear or not, but honestly she didn't care. She was just relieved that she could actually calm her shaking nerves right now. She pulled out a box of cigarettes from her pocket along with a sleek, black lighter. She reclined in the chair she sat down in, bringing one of her legs up as was the usual "chilling" position that she had. The nicotine felt good running inside her and she could immediately tell a difference as her nerves stopped their shaking. She breathed out, letting the cloud of smoke dissipate in front of her face.

She was calm, she was relaxed, and now completely less worried about not being able to move earlier. Qynna just chalked that off as needing her smokes rather than fear. It made more sense to her, I mean who was this person anyway? A stranger with some extreme form of strength, nothing to bat an eye at. Sure it would be more difficult to take down someone like this, but Qynna figured that she could find a way eventually. A sudden thought came into her head about that girl's comment from earlier. She reached under the table, her arm slipping through the shadows to a kitchen she had once saw, and one specific draw. Her hand groped around blindly in the draw for a little bit till she felt a handle touch her hand, her fingers wrapped around it and she pulled her arm back. When her arm came back to where she sat in the demolished food court of the mall, it was gripping a smallish frying pan.

"Hey blondie think this will work in knocking you out? That is if the time came," Qynna asked the girl holding up the pan and looking rather proud of herself. It was almost as if she were making some sort of joke, a wide smirk on her face and her eyes slightly crinkled. There were more loud crashes and dust that came, but Qynna was almost completely oblivious to it. They didn't want her help, fine, they wouldn't get it. They wouldn't even get her attention if that's how they felt. She took another raw inhale of her cigarette, letting it hang in her lungs for a bit before blowing it out again. With her addiction satisfied Qynna was now more like her usual self instead of some jittery squirrel of a thing.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Aleksandr Zalewski Character Portrait: Kelsier Achylis Character Portrait: Aini Lestari

Earnings

0.00 INK

A loud crash echoed through out the mall as rubble and debris flew everywhere Shadow looked to the source seeing a shadowy figure between the smoke and dead bodies, was this some kind of initiation? A test to show their worth? Shadow was trembling with excitement this hasn't happen to him in a long time the air around him began to fluctuate noticing this Shadow began to take deep breaths to calm himself down and after a few seconds he did gaining his composure once again. That person was trouble Shadow knew this, heck that person killed a few people just by bursting through the wall! His conscience was screaming to run but he couldn't so many people were killed he couldn't stand idly by and let this go on any further, whether it meant his death or not he had to try and stop that person. All his survival instincts kicked in, he was in full alert and danger sensitive his eyes fixed on the one who burst through the wall, quickly analyzing her from head to toe, he readied a slight stance and was about to jump right in to fight. Only to see the Right hand man of the Wicked Ones leader Cain summon the cat that Shadow had seen disappear only moments ago,'Sign of Despair? Number Three? Is that his ability or something, to summon that weird talking cat? He did say three so are there more? ' Shadow thought, then Cain turned his attention to us the new recruits and told us to stand back; that that woman would easily and without a second though kill us on the spot.

Shadow quickly snapped back to normal and looked Cain after he finished talking "I could see she's dangerous, but that's no excuse to cower in fear before her, I may be a new recruit and not know anything but I can't stand idly by and watch her slaughter innocent people it goes against my moral code. There's something I could help with! As you said I am quite confident in my fighting prowess and abilities! " Shadow said. It may be true that this Aini person could easily outmatch Shadow with her 'insane physical condition' meaning shes probably many times stronger than Shadow in a physical perspective of course, but Shadow shared a similar condition albeit he may not be able to easily smash an entire wall and keep on going with no damage. 'Heh.... maybe jumping in head first isn't the smartest strategy, and know that I think of it Aini is a woman how should I go over this...' Shadow thought. He should analyze Aini and build a profile on her and see if he could find anything to help him at least survive if need comes.

"If I lose it, knock me out. Doesn't matter how, you'll know. And I'm fine." hearing this Shadow looked at the woman she had a hand over her head and was cringing it looked as if she was about to burst. "I'm not fond of hitting women but I'll try my best to not see you cause a scene heh. " Shadow said to Asteria with a reassuring smile on his face, he was calm and collected, a bit oblivious to the overwhelming danger around him but that's just how he is so he couldn't help it.
Slightly glancing at the other woman as the smell of cigarette smoke made its way through his nostril Shadow waved his hand clearing a bit of the smoke, "You know those things kill you right? A beautiful woman like yourself shouldn't be smoking." Shadow said to Qynna.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Damioa
|| Joseph Broliny ||


Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep!!!!

"Ugh," A tired groan came from the mouth of the young man sleeping on the twin mattress next to the alarm that had been buzzing for what seemed like hours. A zombified hand reached out and tapped the off button just in time to stop the ringing sounds from creating an ulcer in his head. Slowly rising from his slumber and smacking his lips he stepped out of bed with only one thought in mind.

"Foooooooooood." Yet another moan escaped his lips in the form of words. He was hungry and the only thoughts in his mind were eggs, bacon, apples, oranges, lettuce, bread, and fire. If you would put them all together with a pan, you could tell he was planning on making a five star meal. Still half asleep he managed to make a the closest thing to gourmet food he could, and swallowed the sandwich almost whole, chugging on juice to keep himself from chocking.
"It seems I'm awake now... But why did I set my alarm. I never do that. Let's see." Joe took out a calender book from his pocket. He never did have good track of time after sleeping so long, so he always wrote down important dates.

"Oh yeah. Recruiting day at the mall.......... Oh jeez. That was in the afternoon."

He quickly ran back to his room looked at his clock. "Damnit. Noon was twenty minutes ago. How did I oversleep through an alarm I set to eight a.m." He through the clock at the wall and quickly put on sweatpants and a jersey coat, something that he had back from the time he was in high school. He also put his earphones in and then proceeded to run throughout his gangs headquarters looking for at least someone who had overslept just like him. "Oh dear. Not here......Not here either..... Come on, I can't be the only one." The last room he didn't check happened to belong to Mei. He skipped the room on purpose because he was sure, if it was anyone then maybe she would be there. She might get to meet other girls. He shrugged off the thought and went to her room to see she was still in bed.

"Hey. Psst. Wake up." He nudged her. "Ah well." He gave up on waking her and picked her up. "If I bring you with me then I can make an excuse as to why I'm late. So you can sleep for now."

That being said he opened her window and created a platform made out of energy to stand on. As soon as his feet settled on the platform, it moved across the sky toward the mall.

"Hm?" Joe looked down at the squad of police and the mass of people running for their lives. "So this is what happens when you miss a team meeting huh? Complete chaos."

Managing to go through an open Ceiling window, Joe hopped off the platform and walked to the isle's of the mall, people still inside running around like animals to escape something. Looking down, he could see the food court which he was sure was the meeting place and saw the usual members of the Wickeds and also a usual person who wasn't quite a member, but just as wicked. He sighed and shook Mei, who was still in his arms, around to wake her up. "Hey. Now's not the time to be sleeping. What should we do princess?" He asked, not really wanting to go down there. It seemed like a real tiresome job was coming for him if he did.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Aleksandr Zalewski Character Portrait: Kelsier Achylis Character Portrait: Aini Lestari

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Byte
Image

“Compa...”

And so, a series of loud crashes and tables, chairs and anything else not nailed to the friggin' floor flying through the air disrupted the peaceful meeting.

“-ny.”

Timing, Mercy thought as she let out a muffled groan. How she regretted leaving her safe zone today now.

Within minutes- No, seconds, she had arrived. The strongwoman, the ex-Wicked Aini. Shit! She didn't recall her being that ugly! Then again, it had been about... forever. “Oh? It still remembers my name.” Mercy retorted disinterestedly at the sound of her not birth name being uttered.

As per usual, Cain did his thing. The man always did prioritize the safety of others, especially newbies. Which was perhaps a logical course of action. Nobody in the right mind would willingly tumble with Aini, lest they end up with broken bones if not worse. Even Mercy had to acknowledge that fact, despite thinking Aini was even less than dog shit littering a nice meadow.

She sat, calmly, arms folded as she did not even bother to lift her head and acknowledge that 'it' was here. Her ruby eyes just kept fixed on Morgan. Mercy hoped to God that he had some incredible plan to run the fuck away, and, if not, he'd only need to say the word.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Aleksandr Zalewski Character Portrait: Kelsier Achylis Character Portrait: Aini Lestari Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny

Earnings

0.00 INK

Mei



Rolling around in bed Mei's eyes snapped open and she stared up at her ceiling. Rubbing her eyes she glanced at her clock 2:35 rolling her eyes she curled up in her bed and went back to sleep. Soon enough she felt someone shaking her. Groaning she tried to roll around in hopes of swatting away the arms that were shaking her awake but she found she was unable to.

In that moment Mei began to panic. Green eyes snapping open, they made eye contact with equally green ones. Her eyes widened in surprise as her body twisted at an awkward angle to get out of his grip. In doing so he let go of her and she fell to the floor. Letting out a yelp she sat up rubbing her shoulder. Looking up at Joseph she glared at him, "Thanks a lot idiot. Why in god’s name did you do that for? Where are we anyway?"

Slowly getting up Mei brushed herself off. Looking around she took a step back a scowl on her face. " Joseph why are we at the mall? Wait did you really bring me to the recruit meeting! In my pajama's! You couldn't wait until I got up." Rubbing her arms, Mei pulled at her nightgown and went to the guardrail to see what was going on. Looking down Mei hadn’t realized the large commotion that was going down below. A lot of people were running away from the food court and she could see some of the Wicked members. But it wasn't just Wicked members there were faces she didn't recognize.

Mei could see Cain doing something and all the new faces stood behind him. Frowning Mei leaned over the guardrail and saw something or rather someone approaching the Wicked and the new recruits. "No way. It's Aini!" a small smile crept onto her lips at the sight of her old friend. In her excitement Mei began to run towards the group but then stopped once she reached the top of the stairs. Looking over at Joseph she beckoned him over, “Hey are you coming or what?’ Not waiting for an answer Mei continued her decent.

She knew full well who and what Aini was capable of. Morgan warned her many times, when the monstrous woman was a Wicked, to stay away from her, that she was dangerous. Not that Mei listened to him. Mei was somewhat heartbroken when her friend left the group and she knew why. Aini had given into her urges as an Other but Mei still didn’t care she knew somewhere inside there was a good person.

Morgan


Morgan watched with a solemn face as the woman he once knew headed their way. She was quite large, Aini that is, and even now despite the distance between him and her she still seemed so massive compared to him. Gulping Morgan remembered all the times he would stand beside her or simply being in the same room as her. Every time he found just how small he was compared to his comrade but now Aini was no longer a comrade but an Other, an enemy for him and his Wickeds to deal with in the coming future.

He had hoped it wouldn’t be anytime soon, or never at all if he could help it. But it seems fortune wasn’t on his side not any more anyways, It never was on your side. Pushing his glasses back up to their rightful place, Morgan watched as Cain did his own thing. Somehow despite the oncoming chaos Morgan felt a calm befall him. All he could do was watch as Cain began to offer up his blood to one of his cards. As the inky substance before him began to take shape Morgan realized it was the cat familiar Ches. “Hmmp you’d think i would have received a bit better soldier. But I guess you’ll have to do eh Ches? Don’t worry I won’t have you do anything to extraneous.” he said jokingly to the gloomy cat.

He looked up at his old friend, nodding his understanding to his concern, “Now when have I not been careful eh? I got death right in the eyes remember” he replied in an equally quiet whisper. Morgan’s attention then drifted over to the new recruits, he was somewhat curious as to how they were handling the situation and from the looks of it they were doing alright. He did raise a brow upon hearing Asteria’s request. A request even Morgan found relatively odd, “Now what in the world would make me want to knock you out? Hmm we have a lot to discuss when we get back to base.” His last few words were mainly directed towards the smoker and now he was truly curious as to where she got the frying pan from.

Looking back to Mercy, all Morgan could do was stare at her for a moment. A slight frown pulled the corners of his lips downwards before opening to show some teeth. Morgan took a deep breathe then released it. He ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it up a bit then took off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. Morgan made a big show of it too, of how tired he was with dealing with these sort of problems. Blinking a couple times he made sure not to look at Mercy until the clear lenses of his glasses fell across his eyes. “Alright I guess now would be a good time to great our old friend.” Sniffing Morgan rubbed his nose, rolled shoulders while taking off his jacket. He threw the jacket in the direction of one of the recruits, the blonde one, “Here hold this. I wouldn’t advise trying to be all heroic or anything sweetheart. It’s bad enough I gotta deal with Aini, I’d rather not have to knock out such a pretty little lady.”

“Mercy take them away from here. I don’t want them getting in the way of this and Cain you too. Keep some distance from me but well you know how it goes. I’ll deal with Aini which shouldn’t be too hard so long as I don’t get to close right? And Ches just keep a look out, if something funny happens do your thing so long as it doesn’t involve someone losing an arm.” he gave them a sheepish look. Turning his attention back towards Aini Morgan began to walk towards he but took small steps in doing so. “What is it that you want Aini? You know you can’t just go about demolishing malls. You know very well what’ll happen if you do. But then again I guess that’s just in your nature am I right.”

Putting his hands up as a sign of peace, Morgan approached her when something caught his eye. A small figure was running down a nearby staircase and his eyes widened upon realizing who it was. “Mei?” faltering in his step, Morgan paused long enough to leave an opening.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Aini Lestari

Earnings

0.00 INK

And then the whole fucking lot of them fell to chattering.

The voices simply dissolved into a single crepuscular, vapourous cacophony-- like a thick cloud of smog composed wholly of words, and every bit as suffocating and putrid to the senses. From the congealed, shapeless mass of syllables she was able to extricate unconsciously only disjointed snatches of conversation: cats napping, remembering names, not hitting women, all of it merely inchoate embryos of completed thoughts, none of which Aini could understand. Well, except the 'not hitting women' gig. She mighta been about the shade of a hair's width away from completely divorced of reality, but goddamn if she didn't still despise those kinds of chauvinistic cunts.

But that was not a conscious responce-- consciously, she experienced only a virulent disgust, a sensation of being pressured and constrained from all sides by the coagulation of vacuous words and incoherent shreds of conversation. She scowled, her teeth gritting down against each other furiously-- the urge to break, to break anything, was reaching a strident apogee, exhorting her to violence, to loss of control, demanding absolute, wilful accedence to psychosis-- the sanguine miasma that had already drenched everything her vision a vivid vermillion was beginning to pollute the very nature of the world, as though... as though it were not the symptom of exacerbating dementia but an inveterate thread of reality itself-- a thread, an all too tenuous thread, one so bare, so insubstantial, so illusory as to be-- as to be-- no, nothing, it was asinine-- it was hollow and flimsy and Aini intended to shatter it here and now...

Wait, the fuck was that?

It proved a brief delve into the kind of carnal, animal depravity that afforded Aini a glimpse of what was to come once reality truly became a thing divided from herself-- stirred from the fugue by a sound distinctly unlike the voices that had incurred that state in the first place. Namely, the crack of a gunshot. Aini turned her head mechanically toward the source, only to hear several more-- followed by the sight of uniformed police officers-- wait, police officers, firing at her with small arms? It was... it was so comical it almost provoked a sense of genuinely nonviolent amusement in her-- plaintive, ordinary human beings, to her as rats were to them, firing at her little chunks of brass-jacketed lead that simply shattered into dust against her skin like chalk hurled against a stone wall.

Well, you had to give the little shits credit-- and not just for having the sheer spine to look at the superhuman mass murderer surrounded by corpses and be like 'fuck it, I should totally shoot at that with my standard issue handgun and see what happens'. A hint of clarity-- whatever wretched shred of clarity she ever managed at this point-- returned to her as she turned back to face the Wicked Ones.

"You have no clue," she spat eagerly at them, at the butler in particular, the one who had spoken of her power in the first place. "You-- you haven't known me since I was wasting away living a lie with your gaggle of wretches. I've gotten stronger than you can believe since then, since I let myself be the thing I am, I've gotten so much stron--" A bout of bitter, hacking coughs wracked through her body at that point, and the agony of the ravening surged. It almost doubled her over, but the cough subsided, and the pain abated as well, returning to its prior, steady anguish. She pressed the palm of her hand to her temple, as if in hopes that the pressure would force out some more of the ache, and finished, "-- so much stronger than I was when you knew me."

One stepped forth-- that was... Aberlard. The one with the glasses. The one with... what did he do? Something with his eyes-- no, she couldn't remember-- but fuck it, how could it matter? What could he possibly do to her now? As he approached her, step by step, she met his gaze, and somehow, there was a twinge of recollection in meeting his eyes-- some sort of wrenching, deathly sensation-- but it was dashed as he began to speak.

"What is it that you want Aini? You know you can’t just go about demolishing malls. You know very well what’ll happen if you do. But then again I guess that’s just in your nature, am I right?"

"Oh, don't try and-- try and bullshit me now." Her halting words emerged in a snarl that bore a vehemence wholly at odds with her expression-- the eager grin of before yet lingering upon her mien, as if her mind and her face were not quite operating on the same frequency. "I would never have discovered my nature if-- if not for you. Don't you-- don't you forget: you were the first ones to suspect I was an Other while I was still lying to myself that I wasn't!" Something emerged from her lips on the coattails of the last word-- either a laugh, or another wrenching, hacking cough. "I-- I almost feel like I oughta thank you before I kill you!" It was coming again-- the anticipation, the ravening, the need, provoked by her own verbal consideration of wanton murder. It was time now-- time to do it, time already--

The eyes. No. Something-- something about the eyes, something...

He glanced away from her, and that was it. Impulse took over. The massive Other hurled herself at the creature with the glasses, became briefly nothing more than an immense blur, reached her next victim within the blink of an eye; one hand seized upon his throat, crushing with a force somehow measured and carefully calculated-- it would not do to squander the feast by killing him just yet-- the other pressing against his eyes, shattering the glasses that sheathed them, her palm squeezing down against the eyes as glass scattered across his face. She had him now-- his life, here, in her hands-- her fingers pressing down on his throat, harder and harder, the palm of her hand crushing against his face and his eyes--

"Mei!"

The single word he'd called out just before she'd seized upon him, returning as though across a vast distance-- Mei? What does that... what does Mei mean--? She turned her glare sharply to the side, to where the thing in her hands had been looking before she had taken him, and there it fell upon... Recognition, sudden and sharp as a knife in her side, struck hard. "M-Mei?" The word stumbled off her tongue as though it were some unfamiliar, foreign word; her pressure on the throat and face of the creature in her hands began to abate-- why was this happening? She realised it consciously, and very suddenly-- that the urge to kill was somehow... somehow diminished, but the disgust wasn't, the disgust was worse than ever, and it was curdling at her blood more than ever, and it was directed at herself more than ever. She couldn't... I can't kill. Not Mei. Mei believed Aini. Mei understood that she-- that she... wasn't an Other? But that's not it. I am an Other. I am... and I'm.... I'm better for it. I'm above the rest for it.

Wasn't that it?

A bitter, violent growl escaped her lips as Aini realised she was starting to lose track of herself-- she was beginning to forget how it really was. "Fuck!" The syllable emerged sharp and miserable as she let go of the one with the glasses, let him fall to the ground, took a step back. It didn't... none of this made sense. That person-- that kid, that fucking kid-- she couldn't remember, dammit. What were they? Why couldn't she look at them like she looked at any other living thing-- like a carcass simply waiting to happen?

Her eyes darted from place to place anxiously-- she had to get out of here. She couldn't fight now like this-- not even if she was stronger than ever, not even if she was indestructible, inexorable, unstoppable. She couldn't. She wouldn't.

And she didn't understand why, and that embittered her all the more.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Kelsier Achylis Character Portrait: Aini Lestari Character Portrait: Monica Crawford Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny

Earnings

0.00 INK

Hmm found this to be a lot easier than sending everyone a pm. So make sure to reply in the OOC that your still here!!

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Kelsier Achylis Character Portrait: Aini Lestari Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny

Earnings

0.00 INK

Morgan, Mei, Joeseph & Mercy


In that moment, that single moment, Morgan knew it was over. Not for the Wicked Ones or the girl he swore he's give his life for, no the man with the glasses knew it was over for him. Suddenly large rough hands clamped down on his throat and he could feel the steady pressure of Aini's power as she crushed him like a bug. Morgan's hands went to the source of pain, as if holding his throat would stop Aini. Nothing could stop this mammoth of a woman, nothing not even him.

Scrunching up his face, Morgan gasped for the air that would not come. His face slowly began to turn red and his vision slowly fading at the edges. Then a new pain came, this was far worse than any other. Pressure rained down on his face, mainly his eyes. He felt his glasses shatter the moment Aini grabbed his face, and just like that Morgan screamed in pain as the broken shards of what used to be his glasses dug into his skin.

However almost as soon as it had started; the pressure slowly went away. Morgan on the other was glad for it but that feeling didn't last long as his vision grew darker and darker. A single syllable rang through the air but he couldn't make sense of any of it. Soon enough Morgan felt his body fall to the ground and new pain kicked it but it was dulled by him barely being conscious. He rolled over to his back, one hand on his stomach as he tried to breathe. Eventually he succeeded but it hurt like hell. His face hurt like hell from all the cuts it received from his glasses. Damn this was not the way I wanted the Recruits to remember me by

All Mei could think about was it was her fault Morgan was in that position. But she didn't care not right now, hell deep inside Mei knew she wanted Morgan to feel pain but not like this. Her bright green eyes widened in shock as she watched her old friend slowly crush her sisters’ lover like an egg. Mei stopped in her tracks but after a while she started to take clumsy steps forwards. "Aini! Aini! Stop! You're hurting him!" Seeing no visible reaction from Aini, Mei changed her words up. With a shake of her head Mei called out to her friend, "Aini! Stop! Stop! You're hurting me! Me! Aini! Aren't we friend!?"

This time her words seemed to work, if she looked close enough Mei could see that Aini's grip on Morgan lessened until finally she let go of him altogether. Mei watched as Aini panicked, her eyes shifting everywhere anxiously. Seeing her moment of opportune, Mei rushed to Morgan's side to check if he was still alive. Mei put on hand against his nose and could barely feel the air leaving his body. A sigh of relief left her lips and Mei turned her attention back to Aini. In that instance all Mei felt was pity for her friend, She's so lost, like a puppy born into a world without its mother.

Upon thinking that a look of determination spread across her face and she stood up and took a few steps towards Aini. "It's okay Aini, you don't have to be scared. I'm here and I believe in you, now go before more cops come and they waste bullets on you. Go!" although her words were soft in the beginning as she ended her plea they became hard, so as to show Aini the urgency in getting away. Turning back to Morgan, Mei questioned him to see if he was still awake or even alive.

Morgan's eyes fluttered open looking up at the smudged vision of a girl with red hair. He quickly shut them to keep from killing her. Mei? realizing his words didn't vocalize, he tried to speak but found he couldn't. After a few more failed attempts a flurry of coughing fits came. In all the coughing Morgan turned to his side and began to cough up a little bit of blood. Mei watched on in what looked to be horror when she saw the blood. Morgan shifted positions so that he was now sitting up, however he kept his eyes shut. "Mei help me to the rest of the group. We need to get out of here before the cops try to get us." Nodding to his request, Mei lead him to the rest of the Wickeds were As she did so Mei turned around and beckoned Joseph over to them.

Soon the unfitting duo stood before the Wickeds both old and new. Morgan had another coughing fit, clearing his throat he spoke, “ “Well sorry you guys had too witness that, it isn’t like that all the time. But we need to split into groups so the cops don’t catch up to us. Mercy your coming with me, bring Asteria and Shadow. Joseph take Mei with Kelsier and Qynna, did everyone get that? Cain I need you to do something for me but we’ll need to talk in private.” Mei let him go ad began to round up her group with Joseph. Once he was sure they were alone, Morgan spoke to his old friend, “I need you to look into something for me, can you do that?” After a moment of hushed whispers, Morgan set his friend on his way and he groped around for something to grab a hold of. Hopefully Mercy or anyone really would take his hand and lead him out of this place.


Joe watched with tired eyes and a lazy smirk as Mei became excited from waking up in a strange place. "We're at the mall silly. Where else would we be," He asked. It seemed Mei had enough time to react to her new environment but, not enough to tell him off as he expected before seeing their group and an old friend. He never actually thought bad of Aini because he knew the pain of wanting to use the destructive power given to him so, he gladly followed Mei downstairs. By that time Aini had already attacked Morgan, making Joe's sleep squinted eyes grow wide awake. "Wow Aini. You're as tough and beautifully destructive as ever," He commented while Mei on the other hand was trying to calm her down.

After a short while, Aini did actually let go, making the young man think she wanted another sparring partner, but seeing the environment and how Mei was trying to calm her down, he realized he'd have to save the fun for another day. Brushing his hair back and sighing, he walked a little closer to the muscular woman and said, "You know, Mei's right. You should get out of here while you can. Don't worry, I'll make sure no one will follow you, 'kay?" Even though his friend was running loose like a madwoman, he still couldn't bare for the cops to catch her.....if they could catch her.

After he was done, Joe went to Mei and Morgan, who didn't look to be in good health. As Morgan asked, he helped Mei take their injured leader to the rest of the group. Seeing the new comers up close was really a sight. Each had their own distinct feel about them. Though it was mostly the hair colors he was paying attention to, he still wondered what each person could do. However, he kept quiet for the time being due to the urgency of Morgan’s words. There was now so much he wanted to say and so little time to say it almost hurt, but he managed somehow.

"Oh cool. I get to team up with the new kids huh? Nice. Don't worry boss man, I'll take care of them." He happily said walking over to the short white haired boy. "Hey, cool hairstyle," he said. "I'm Joseph, but please, do try to make an effort to call me Joe. I like it better, and this is Mei." Walking over to the pink haired girl he looked at her up and down in a serious way. "Hmm, seems we have a model in our midst. Hehehe. I'm just kidding." Joe looked around to see which direction they could take to get out of the building before realizing that he had three options. They could wither use the doors and walls as exits, the underground subway, which would probably cause a mess down the line, or he could create enough discs for them to travel in the air. Though he wasn't sure about the last plan. He didn't want to concentrate on both the disc and the cops, if they decided to shoot. Not knowing what plan to take he simply turned to Mei. "So, what's the plan princess. Do you want me to destroy some of the building for our escape, or do you have a better idea?" From what had happened in the last few minutes, there had to be cops surrounding the building, though, it's not like Joe would hesitate should the need arrive to blast them.

There was undeniable fear in the presence of Aini, and Mercy knew well that she wouldn't be useful in any way. She watched, blank faced at the situation unfolding. Not a single motion or command coming from the freak Wicked. Much to her surprise, Aini, for whatever reason, released Morgan from her steady grip and leave the man to wallow in pain.

“Morgan...” Mercy whispered, watching the poor sod be dragged to the small group of new and old Wicks, murmuring commands and requests to everyone. They needed to leave while they could. It wouldn't take long for those slowpoke bluehats to come out and shoot anything that didn't look natural. As Morgan took Cain aside for some private talk, Mercy approached the two she was supposed to bring. “You two,” She spoke, almost commanding, pointing at Asteria and Shadow and beckoning to follow her. “You're with me.”

Staring Cain down as he ran off, Mercy approached Morgan with a bit of a worry on her face. “Look at you,” She said calmly, grabbing his arm. “You're a mess.” It wasn't something to joke about, surely. From what Mercy could tell, Morgan wasn't too keen on enacting the helpless fool routine in front of the rookies.

“You don't think they'll be kind enough to let us waltz out of here without a peep?” She asked, though swiftly answered her own question. “Didn't think so. What's the plan then, Morgan?” He was still the leader, and Mercy couldn't for the life of her tell others what to do, so she hoped Morgan was able to do just that.

Mei looked over at Joeseph for a brief moment before looking around at her surroundings for the first time. By the looks of it they would have to go with Joe's last suggestion. "Yeah but not too big, we don't want them to notice. I'll get Morgan so his group can go through the same exit but we'll have to split by then." Turning her back to her teammate, Mei quickly walked over to Morgan and explained the plan to him and Mercy. "Alright then we'll take Joesephs exit strategy and split once we get out. Mercy you'll have to lead us back to the base. I can't risk accidentally using my ability on the others." Mei listened to Morgan's command and for a moment she felt hatred for him but it only lasted a moment. Walking back to Joeseph she looked around once more for a good spot and lead the whole group. "Here will be good. Just make it fast but nothing to flashy okay."

Looking around, Joe realized that options were small. Very small. He looked at his older companions faces and then looked at the newer ones, trying to make sense of their emotions. After Mei's suggestion about going out the same exit and splitting up, Joe already had a plan about where they would go to lose the police. It wasn't the classiest route, but, having ran from the cops on more than one occasion, it was definitely the best way for his group to go. Heck, even if the others followed there were dozens of tunnels to go through. "Sounds good to me. I already know where we're going," he answered. After Mei left to talk to Morgan and returned, Joe couldn't help but to giggle at her request of nothing flashy. "I'm not going to destroy the whole building," he grinned. Raising his hand as if holding something already, little dots of light slowly came together; forming into a ball that soon looked like it was absorbing the dots. It kept on going, getting brighter and brighter until it was the size of a basketball. Rearing his arm back, as if he was going to through a punch, Joe shoved the ball at the wall, bursting through the concrete and making a small hole. Small, but big enough to fit through. The ball, which was still present on the other side of the wall, slowly turned back into dust particles of light and disappeared into nothingness.

"Alright. My team, we're going to go there," He said pointing to the sewer pan on the ground. After prying it open he looked up at his crew. "Well, what’s taking you guys so long? Let’s ditch."

Mercy didn't respond, merely nodded at the plan and Morgan's request to have her lead the flock to safety. Although... she was unsure that she could do so successfully. When Joe had 'subtly' created an exit for the Wickeds and led his group down into the sewers, Mercy beckoned for her team to follow while she made sure to keep an eye on Morgan. [color==#6f00ff]“You sure you don't want Joe and Mei to carry you? They've got the safer route.”[/color] All they had left to choose were the alleyways, not the safest escape with Morgan in this state. “Stick close and don't lose sight of me.” Mercy urged to everyone, guiding them into the nearest alley.

Morgan smiled at Mercy's concern. "You know I can't do that, not right now. But thanks for the concern." As they made their way to their Headquarters, Morgan did have some trouble but not too much trouble. On the other hand, Mei and Joe led their group through the sewers until they reached their destination.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Kelsier Achylis Character Portrait: Aini Lestari Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny

Earnings

0.00 INK

Qynna sat frozen, her cigarette slowly burning down as she watched this unknown woman crushing Morgan. She was unsure of what to do. Run? That certainly would be the easiest and her most common response, but it had taken her a long time to come this close at finding someone to...help. Fight? Obviously that would be a brilliant idea as this woman destroyed most of the mall by herself. Just sit here and watch? She may not be the most "law abiding citizen", but that is just horrible. Thankfully she didn't have to decide before a young red-head came scrambling up to the scene, along with a blond haired boy. The scene quickly unraveled itself after that. The attacker ran off, leaving a bloody and barely conscious Morgan in her wake. There was a lot of whispering going on between the older members of the group and then they split up. The blond guy walked over to the one with white hair and then her. He commented about her being a model, she just rolled her eyes at that.

Apparently they would be splitting up into groups. It was the white haired boy, the little red head girl that had run up to miss super strength, and the blond guy who who called her a model. Qynna just sort of sat still while everyone figured out how to get out. At over-hearing that they were trying to get out as quietly and quickly as possible, the pink haired girl did try to speak up, as that was completely her thing, but they just kept talking over her. Joe blasted a hole in the ground and called for his team to come over. Qynna rolled her eyes, getting ignored was not something she was used to, or even liked. This put her in a bit more of a sour mood as she walked over to the hole.

She looked down, they were taking the sewer it seemed. Great, Qynna thought to herself as she dropped down. It would have been just as easy for her to drop down and just wait for them somewhere else, but there were too many complications with that. One, they didn't know where she was staying so they couldn't meet there and two, she didn't know where they were going so she couldn't just beat them there while they drudged through sewage.

"If you bothered to ask, I could have helped out with sneaking away," Qynna called up to Joe, then adding under her breath, "Instead you've doomed us to walking sewage, bravo genius."

She moved out of the way a little, giving more space for the others to drop down, without splashing her even. You would think that with her red eyes and pink hair, that even in the dark she would be easy to spot, but that wasn't so. There was a reason they called her 'Night Ire' and it wasn't completely because of her power. She has a knack for disappearing into shadows. Even now the only thing that suggested she was still there was a thin outline of light around her.

Qynna plugged her nose, regretting now not using her power to sneak out just by herself. "Can you guys hurry up? If I stay any longer I may pass-out," she called up. Yeah it was a bit of a dramatic and even a princess-y thing to say, but it was also kind of true. The longer she stayed down there the more light headed she became.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Kelsier Achylis Character Portrait: Aini Lestari Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Renmiri
Asteria

"Hey blondie think this will work in knocking you out? That is if the time came,"

"Right, yeah, sure," she replied distractedly, side-eyeing the frying pan with a mixture of distrust and... mild curiosity? She'd almost thought that her illusions had finally gotten out of hand for a moment there-- enough to do a double-take, anyway. 'But seriously though, what the fuck.' Aster was spared an equally inattentive comment on the last bits of conversation (zoning out seemed to be becoming a habit) when everything, not in the least predictably, started to go to shit. In retrospect, maybe watching that half-suicidal kid actually run towards Psychopath should've been a sign to wash her hands of this whole 'Wicked Ones' business. It certainly seemed like a good enough time to walk away, especially when Spiky 'Do was getting burned out there. What did it say about the gang when their leader-figure got himself owned in front of his lackeys?

'When did I stop taking my own advice?' She could almost feel the years and decades slide off her lifespan and down through her fingers. Really, just reassuring. And so was the mounting screech of her headache, fuck if she would ever sell bloodlust short again, 'Jesus fucking Christ this is getting ridiculous--'

'-- wait what.' The pain left as quickly as it had come, the silent ringing in her ears almost jarring compared to the dull roar that it had been. By the time that Aster could look up in disbelief (she hadn't exactly been watching), there was already a crowd of two at Morgan's side and a suspiciously absent Psychopath; that, and a somewhat concerning amount of cops spilling over. From then, they seemed to be splitting up and finally getting the hell out of there-- by all means, a brilliant plan if it involved running. She didn't really think much of contributing, then, (not that she knew much of L.A. anyway, or where they were headed) and kind of just stood near the back until one of the dudes finished blasting a hole in the mortar.

She wondered if it was a good thing, that she was starting not to get surprised. 'Weird shit, anyway.' At least it seemed as though... Mercy? knew her way around. Spiky 'Do, though. Worrying.

At Mercy's command to 'stick close and don't lose sight' of her, Aster gave a lazy, two-fingered salute before following behind; making some comment like "Ay-ay, captain. After you." on the way. She was certainly spry when compared to her condition just a few moments prior, and for all her doubt-filled worth watched carefully as they made their way through the streets. It wouldn't do to get themselves caught, after all, and so she occasionally made use of a few illusions when it ever counted-- as subtly as she could, anyway, and shrugging it off (for the rest of the group wouldn't have necessarily understood) if any of them happened to notice. It was just a convenient thing, seeing as how they couldn't have made good time with Morgan half-down for the count.

Aster was in a good enough mood, anyway. She'd always been at home in the streets, so far as anyone could tell. After what seemed to be a while of inconspicuous back-alley sleuthing, she asked (in what would be a well-natured, mildly sarcastic tone): "So, where are we headed? Let me guess, the Wicked Ones take with underground tunnels and have a bottomless budget?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Qynna Ravenhowe Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Kelsier Achylis Character Portrait: Aini Lestari Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny

Earnings

0.00 INK

Okay so this is taking far too long. I don't have the luxury of sending out pms to every one of you so please respond by Posting for your Character! We need to move things along now so that I can bring in the other characters. Although I know some of you are just waiting on the rest.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Kelsier Achylis Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny

Earnings

0.00 INK

Morgan&Mei


Morgan overheard Asteria’s comment and couldn’t help but chuckle to himself before giving the girl an answer. “Sadly we don’t have the greatest budget but we make do with what we have. We’re heading somewhere that should be safe for the time being, hopefully for many more years but with what happened today that may not be the case. Does that quell your curiosity?” Morgan kept his head facing forwards or at least he assumed it was forwards since he wasn’t too sure at the time. What he was sure about was the throbbing pain from where Aini had nearly crushed his head in those gigantic hands of hers. Thinking on it a bit more Morgan shudder, hopefully Mercy wouldn’t notice and worry.

Eventually Morgan felt them come to a stop and from what he guessed they were nearing their hideout. The sounds of a passing train roared by quietly and not long after the first drops of rain fell from the sky. “I guess we better hurry before it starts coming down hard.” letting Mercy guide him to their home, Morgan couldn’t wait to walk through familiar hallways. Once they got there, the group was met by a large building that may have been a hotel at one point in its life. Now it was a bit rundown but still in decent enough shape to take on the brunt of their activities and still stand. Pushing open the doors, they were met with quiet hallways that were surprisingly occupied by a few individuals, most of which flocked around Mercy asking what had happened. Morgan being the kind of guy he was, he waved them away saying he was fine. “Hey Mercy could you take me to my room?”
~ ~ ~ ~

On the other hand, Mei and Joseph were having the time of their lives navigating through the labyrinth of sewer tunnels. Of course Mei would have said this sarcastically but it was only on occasion that she enjoyed being down here. Thankfully this was the quicker route but also the most dangerous since there were places were the pavement had erode and could collapse into the sewage water, although it wasn’t particularly high. But looks could be deceiving as Mei on her first trip down this way had made the mistake of jumping into the low waters only to fall into a drop that had reached up to her armpits. Just thinking about how hard it had been to get rid of the smell made her want to puke. They walked for what seemed like forever but since it was just her Joeseph and that one kid with the funny hair it was somewhat boring.

Looking back behind her, Mei gave the kid a hard look over, “So what brought you out this way?” Whether he answered her or not Mei turned her attention forwards happy to see that familiar step ladder that would take them back to reality. Mei let Joeseph go first, then the kid while she came in last as she liked to do whenever they went out on patrol. Once she climbed out Mei couldn’t help but stretch and sigh loudy, “Fresh air, gosh I hate going that way sometimes.” she folded her arms briefly before motioning to the both of them to cross the tracks. Their home wasn’t really that much to look at, at least by Mei’s standards. They came out from the back which was why they had to cross the tracks and now that they were across Mei giggled a bit before running off ahead of them. “I’m gonna go up on ahead you can deal with the newbie Joeseph as payback for taking me to the mall.” She couldn’t wait to get back inside on clean floors, she had been walking around everywhere in her pjs and only wore socks, which were now ruined, when she had gone through the sewers. The other reason she had run off ahead was to see if Morgan and his group had arrive yet and it seemed they had.

~ ~ ~ ~


“I can take him if you want Mercy, I kinda need to head up that way since as you can see I am not prepared to deal with these guys.” Not bothering to wait for her friend to agree, Mei took Morgan by the arm and lead him to his room. “So how do you feel? We didn’t get as many people as we had hoped but it’s something right.” she said while guiding Morgan on where to sit down. “I feel like absolute crap truth be told, but you are right a few is better than none. Hey can you reach into that draw with the missing knob, I may have spare glasses I can use.” Nodding, Mei went through the doors and pulled out a case for glasses. Opening it she inspected the glasses and frowned, “Um I’m not eye doctor but I don’t think these will work Morgan the left lens is missing and the right is cracked.” she said carefully while handing them to Morgan. The older man took them from her and also inspected them but with his hands since he couldn’t open his eyes least he use his ability on Mei. “Tch, you’re right. Damn I thought I had fixed these but I guess not. Well um I guess you’re gonna have to help Mercy and the others deal with the newbies. I can’t exactly lead people as I am now.” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

Folding her arms across her chest Mei gave him a scrutinizing glare before leaving him with a huff. Rushing to her own room, Mei quickly changed clothes, slipping into her favorite pair of boots and washing her face and hands with scented soap in hope of getting rid of the musty sewer smell. Look at herself through the mirror before going back to where she assumed the rest of them were still waiting.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Aini Lestari Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny

Earnings

0.00 INK

Shadow E. Loveheart


It looked like this Aini fellow was once part of the group judging by how the others had reacted, soon Morgan told the others to take the new recruits away he and Cain were probably going to fight Aini alone it seamed that they alone could take her on and since they where the best of the best no one could doubt them. Soon as we began to evacuate two new entities appeared out of a open window in the roof a small girl and a guy probably here to help though as soon as Morgan saw then he froze slightly that was all it took for that Aini to grab him by his face and neck, Shadow though it was over one fell swoop was all it took to kill him one simple mistake. But that was not the case Aini also seamed shock as if something dug its way into her head she let go of Morgan and took a few steps back obviously shaken up, and strangely enough it was because of the little one that appear only moments ago.

The whole event was reaching its climax Aini seemingly left, Morgan was thankfully alive all thanks to that girl that brought a bit of relief to Shadow but other people had already died so that was another factor. And soon the Police would be after them too, Morgan quickly divided us in groups to head back to the base, I was with Asteria, Mercy and Morgan.
Mercy came of quite harsh when confronting us but that was probably who she was Shadow followed her without saying anything to not hinder our time in any way. Mercy began to go over with the injured Morgan and began to talk on how to get out of here; we joined up with the other and one of the Wickeds made us an exit using his ability which Shadow was interested in it since it was one of the few he'd seen so far it made him remember that everyone here also had an ability like him.

It took a few minutes but with the guidance of Mercy we made it through and reached our destination with little to no problems, Asteria did make a few comments along the way but Shadow was completely lost in his own thought while still able to follow Mercy he literally payed no attention if they were speaking about him or at him. Soon Shadow snapped back to reality as they reached the hideout looking at it it seamed like a run down hotel but hey beggars cant be choosers right?

"So this is the Famous hideout somehow I though it would be something like this , this is so exiting I'm finally here!" Shadow thought as he and the other new recruits waited inside the Hideout for the older more experienced Wicked ones to come out and tell us what to expect and you know give us an explanation and all that round about.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Asteria Leigh Character Portrait: Kelsier Achylis Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Damioa
Joe, who was happily escorting a quiet person, a diva who seemed to dislike walking in the sewers, and his friend who he knew wasn't going to have any problem in the usual path of transportation. Eventually once they arrived to their exit area, he realized he was missing someone, but shook it off. Morgan wouldn't realize. Not in his current condition. Thus, good job. He patted himself on the back for being able to guide at least one hopeful recruit through the messy trail. Walking up the ladder well and waiting for everyone to exit the underground tunnels before closing the grate back over the hole in the ground. Once his short friend cheered about leaving the sewers, Joe couldn't help but to frown. "But... I thought you liked going that way. Awe." He knew she wanted to go check on Morgan an also had no problem looking after the new guy, so he nodded when she told him she was going on ahead. "Hmm. Well I guess we should meet up with the other new person and Mercy," he said giving the white haired male a lazy smirk. It wouldn't be too far off to say he looked as if someone who hadn't slept in days, the tribal markings on his face, giving the illusion of bags. "Come on bud. After we get with the other newbie I can show you around. Oh this should be fun." He then turned humming to himself, walking slowly towards the same direction as Mei. Once inside the building he turned to his, hopefully, new ally and said, "Well this is it. It looks like crap from the outside, and pretty much a warehouse from in this area, but the rooms are customizable. Though, anything is if you put forth the effort. Am I right. Hehe. Oh cool. They beat us here."

Walking over to his other old friend and the spunky looking new girl he waved. Giving a quick glance at "Silver Hair", a name he secretly named the kid until he learned his name, he grinned. "Wow Mercy, I see you wore your best gear to impress the new guys, hmm." He was only teasing of course, as he did mostly with everyone. "You know what? I'm pretty stumped on what we're supposed to do now. It's been a long time since anyone has been "new" here, and I'm pretty sure at that last time, I was either sleeping or doing a hobby or something. Soooo. It looks like you two might just have to wait for the boss man to recover. Yeah that sounds like a neat idea. We have food in the fridge, games hooked up to peoples t.v's, not mine though. I kinda blew up my t.v. Oh, and we also have year old tickets to Six Flags. Though, I'm sure those tickets aren't viable anymore seeing as they're a year old. Hmm. Oooh. I know what we should do. Man I'm like a leading genius or something. Hey Cee-Cee," Cee-Cee, being a nickname he made for Mercy, "How about we introduce ourselves, and then we let these guys introduce themselves. Or do you know them already? Well whatever. I don't know 'em. You see. My name is Joseph. Don't call me that though. Please. Just call me Joe. I'm twenty-one years old and I like sleeping, meeting people, and making up names for people. Hmm. Let's see. I'll call you Silver," he said pointing to the short boy with the white looking hair, "and I'll call you.... Ummm." Joe had to look up and search for an answer in his brain. There wasn't anything that stood out about the woman to him. At least nothing he could nickname off of her. He then looked slowly around the room to avoid it being known that he was having an issue and then looked at what was on her feet. "Boots." He said it without thinking really. Though, it was too late to go back on it now. "Yup. I'm gonna call you boots. Though, I might switch nicknames later one. I use to call Mercy, Greenie, until I realized that was an ugly name. Though, Boots is the name of that one kids monkey huh?" Again, he wasn't thinking while talking, which made conversations easier for him, but caused him to make blunders. "Ummmm. Soooo," he started to say to end his own awkward silence. "What's your names and what can you do? Can any of you guys fly. That'd be so cool. Flying by myself is pretty lame. Ohh ohhhh. Can any of you guys do what i did early. That'd be sweet. We can learn how to use our powers together and stuff. Well? Why's it feel like I'm the only one talking here?" He asked to no one in particular.

Looking over the area once more, Joe's eyes widened. How could he miss the guy who stood out more than any of the others. "Oh geez. How could I forget about you. I guess it's cz you look like a natural fit for our group and all with your cool hair and everything. You know what, just so you don't feel left out, I'ma call you Ruby. You know... Like the Gem that's red like fire. . . Cuz your hair. . . ." Joe looked at everyone around him realizing that he was really at the point of needed to clear the floor to let someone else talk, so he gave an awkward laugh and said, "Okay. I'm done I think. The floor is all yours..... Whoever wants it....... Don't be shy...."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Monica Crawford Character Portrait: Timothy Jeromeo

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Damioa
[editing] ^__^

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Kelsier Achylis Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Byte
Image

Home. Mercy couldn't be more glad that they had arrived at their safe haven, especially after all the shit that had happened. As soon as the young woman entered the building, dragging the blinded Morgan along with her, they instantly found themselves swarmed by a colony of other Wicked bombarding the two with concerned questions. Luckily, Morgan was quick to assure them of his good health – Whatever that meant.

“Hey Mercy could you take me to my room?”

“Of co-”

“I can take him if you want Mercy, I kinda need to head up that way since as you can see I am not prepared to deal with these guys.”

Mei wasted no time and snatched the leader from Mercy's grip without leaving much room for her to object in the first place.

“Bu-” Mercy simply let things pass by as they came. She managed a smile as it warmed her heart to see little Mei so genuinely concerned about Morgan's well-being. For all the hard time she gave the poor sod, she did have a soft spot for him underneath that cold attitude.

Giving the other members a dismissing wave that they were free to go, Mercy turned her attention to the new recruit who seemed pre-occupied with staring at the wreckage of a hideout.

“Exciting? This shit-hole?” She commented under a stifled laugh. “Well, it's a bit of a mess, but it's as good a home as any for us misfits...” And that it was. It managed to keep prying eyes away from them, and it served its purpose as a place for mutants to gather well enough.

Motioning for Shadow to follow her lead, Mercy planned to meet up with Joseph for the official introductions and initiation into the Wicked gang. The finding part being the least of her problems, since the loud-mouthed fellow was usually easy to locate.

Speaking of which...

“Wow Mercy, I see you wore your best gear to impress the new guys, hmm.”

“You know you're the only one in my life, darling~” She retorted with a tease of her own, throwing a wink at Joseph's direction. Of course this whole charade was an inside joke between the two Wicks.

As the awkward pause was broken by Joe's continued japing, Mercy remained somewhat quiet as her friend did a good enough job to introduce themselves to the rookies with his hyperactive tendencies and tangents of coming up with nicknames for the new batch.

“Get used to this, kiddos. He never, ever stop flapping his gums.” Mercy butted in, holding a hand in front of Joseph's mouth as she continued the conversation.

“Ahem... Like mister talks-a-lot said, you can call me Mercy. Let me be the first to officially welcome you into our home.” She stepped forward, making sure to look the small group in the eye before proceeding. “Initiation will have to wait until the boss gets back, but feel free to make yourselves comfortable while Joseph and I attend to our usual duties.” She turned to the man in question. “I'm going to check up on Morgan.” That, and she was curious what kind of mission he had given their second-in-command and if he was going to return any time soon. Leaving the group behind, Mercy made her way to Morgan's room, gently knocking on the door.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard

Earnings

0.00 INK

Morgan


Once the door to his room closed Morgan released a shaky sigh when suddenly his face contorted in pain as a headache erupted in his skull. "Urgh" clenching his teeth Morgan kept his cry of pain inside until the headache subsided. "Geez and I didn't even use the damn thing." rubbing his eyes Morgan risked opening them and was welcome to the sight of his room, with him being its only occupant. Looking around Morgan realized he had dropped the broken glasses on the ground, so reaching down he placed them back in the drawer.

Stretching his body hurt like hell but he knew noting was broken, at least he didn't think anything was broken. Rubbing his neck Morgan walked across the room to a small mirror that hung on the wall. Looking at himself he saw the track of blood that had already begun to dry from where his glasses cut his face. Tilting his head this way and that as he inspected his face. Sighing he went in search of a medical kit so he could clean up the blood. Finding nothing of the sort he grumbled to himself and proceeded to using his shirt to wipe away the blood. Slipping it over his head he paused as the area around his neck and shoulders stretched sorely.

Shaking his head lightly he gritted his teeth and tore the shirt off, allowing a choked back cry of pain in the process. A smile played at his lips, "Geez if they saw me like this, I doubt they'd keep me as their leader." Walking over to his bathroom Morgan wet the tip of his shirt and began to dab at his face when a knock could be heard from the door. His shoulders visibly slumped at the idea of having a visitor. "The doors open!" calling out to whoever it was that knocked. Morgan then dared to splash water on his face instead, using the tips of his fingers to lightly rub away the water. It stung quite a bit but he didn't feel like facing anyone with a bloodied up face.

Straightening up he walked back out making sure to keep his eyes to the floor. Standing in front of the mirror he inspected his face again glad that most if not all the blood was gone. Sighing once more Morgan closed his eyes and faced the other way were he assumed the person who knocked to be standing. "So what can I do for? Sorry I'm not sure who you are since I can't exactly open my eyes, so mind telling me who is standing in my room," he said in a teasing voice. Using the last dry part of his shirt he dabbed at his face until he thought it was dry before throwing it in the direction he assumed his laundry basket was.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny

Earnings

0.00 INK

Shadow E. Loveheart


"Well I've never had an actual home so I'm actually quite happy." Shadow commented to Mercy and gave a smile, he followed Mercy until finding the other recruits and members seeing the other wickeds, there were quite a few of them here which made made a little more calm seeing as there are more people with abilities like them. Then, came the other Wicked One introducing himself as Joseph or Joe like he likes to be called, he ran his mouth to no ends he could see he was the happy go lucky guy of the group; Shadow smiled at the name he had given him "Ruby...huh?" he thought, then said "My hairs natural ya'know, and I'd prefer Scarlet as a name haha!" he said jokingly following his happy mood "Well I can't fly but I can jump pretty high, hehe. If that counts for something." Shadow continued and chuckled a bit, Joe reminded Shadow about his late little sister Sonic she was a lot like him, happy go lucky but that was due to a slight sunny disposition, so he has grown to like people like Joe and Sonic.

Like Joseph said, Mercy introduced herself, looking at the others a bit he decided to go next, "Well seems I'm next... My names Shadow E. Loveheart, the E. stands for Emilia by the way, my mom wanted another girl and you know where that went. Anyways as for ability mine is that I have a more resilient body, as in I'm stronger, faster, more durable you know the works." Shadow said and gave a smile at them, he did keep himself from saying that he could also freely control and Manipulate the Air but he still didn't know whether to trust them or not until he knew what their goal was and frankly speaking he didn't actually like using his ability around other people since its so unpredictable, but when he warms up to them he will eventually. Shadow did like Josephs idea about learning to how to use our powers together if he actually joins he will take him up on his proposal.
Then Mercy left seeing as she was busy having other things to do since Morgan was pretty banged up,"I wonder if they got someone with the ability to heal...that be awesome..." that thought came to mind but quickly shook it off.

"So what know guys?" Shadow said to the group.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Monica Crawford Character Portrait: Timothy Jeromeo

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Damioa
The smell of food. The commotion around him. The streets that seemed just like home with a new light called the sun and the blue ocean, known as the clear sky above his head. The young man couldn't help but smile uncontrollably at his new surroundings. It was practically as if he was just at home, if not a bit warmer. "So this is California," he said pronouncing as much of the word California as he could. "Tight. I can't wait to make some noise. Though first, food." His stomach growled in agreeance and he patted it, as if it were a pet, to settle it down. He walked around the streets for hours wasting a lot of morning time. His swagger gave the look of a city kid, which he was, and also one of someone who had known the ins and outs of the streets he walked. Though, in reality, he had only been on the grounds since the early mornings of this fine day and walked the path of his instincts. Sure there were restaurants and other stores that he passed by, but he had other plans in mind for what type of food he was going to eat, and how he was going to obtain it.

Crazy thing; he had no money on his person what so ever. Sure he didn't just board the plane with his looks alone, or stowed away for a six hour flight. The lad started his trip with a good some of money, but got lost in the eyes of some homeless kids after stepping out of his cab, thus making him spend his last dime giving away to charity. Something he did often. Now broke, he decided to do another thing he did often. Steal. He laughed at the irony of it all before questioning if it was actually ironic or not. One thing was for certain, if that wasn't irony, then the cop cars passing him, heading in the direction of what seemed like a shopping area, was. Of course, he didn't feel like being put on the news, so instead, he did what anyone who thought like him would do. He made a right turn. Why a right turn and not left? Well, because the right way was always the right way. That's at least how he thought about it. A couple more hours of walking and he seemed to his the edge of town, a beach of all things. His eyes widened and he almost jumped for joy. He had never laid sight on an actual ocean. From what he read in the in flight manual, beaches had the ocean, which was a wonder to him, people who did things for fun, like swimming, water riding, and surfing, but, most of all, the main thing that beaches had, were food stands. "Sweet."

It was simple really. Unlike restaurants and other food places, food stands had kept their food out in the open. Though not known to have a lot, Philadelphia, his home town, had a few. From what he experienced in the past, most food stands set the premade food out in front of a person, before asking to be paid. Maybe because they did transactions without a special machine. It didn't matter. That just made them easy prey.Easy prey, was just what the "Lion" fed on the most. If you looked at it from his point of view, you'd probably do the same. He wasn't looking to be on a wanted list or surveillance camera either. It would be bad for future business, if there had been any to speak of. Hopefully he'd find something to do with his time after the grub.

Tim continued his walk on the sand, which was a new experience for him, and walked some more, enjoying each step he took. It was like snow, but different. Not as crunchy or hard, but hard enough not to sink into either. It was definitely fun for him. This is where he dropped his natural demeanor and started looking like a tourist.

Soon he spotted a small trailer with people standing in front of it, and, if his nose was not lying to him, which it never had, there had been a scent of food coming from said trailer. He waited in line like normal person would have and took in the smell of the ocean air as he did so. Once he was the next in line to order he looked at the small menu to the side of him while listening to the greasy heavy set man in front of him ask him, "What do you want kid?" Of course he couldn't decide. All of the menu items were different from the ones he had seen in Philadelphia. Instead of the usual cheese steak or rack of ribs, he had seen things like, burritos and nacho's. Also something called a California burrito. "Come on kid. I don't have all day. Would you order already? Time is money."

Tim glanced at the man then back to the menu, eying it and placing his hand on his chin like some type of scientist. "I guess I'll have a California burrito," he said in a questionable tone. In truth he didn't know what he was actually asking for, but then again, it wasn't like he cared much. "Yeah. Give me one of those."

"Good choice kid. Here. That'll be four bucks flat."

"What? That seems like a bit much for one item."

"Kid you either pay or not eat. Pick one."

Seeing as the man did exactly as the kid anticipated and laid his food out for him, Tim smiled. "Okay. I'll eat," he said taking the food off the placing area. "I'm not paying though." He then ran like a kid who had stolen candy from a candy store and laughed, quite insanely at his achievement.

"Hey," the man said running out of his trailer. "Come back here. THEIF!!!! Someone get him." He ranted on and huffed looking at the people who were still in line, some even laughing. Seeing as there were no cops around and no one trying to ruin there time at the beach by running after a stranger who skipped out on paying, the man had no choice but to growl and let the kid go. He was in no shape to chase after the boy himself and knew it. "Alright then you bunch of asses. Since you all think it's funny, everything is going up in price by a dollar. Laugh at that." The crowd and the man probably weren't happy, but you could bet that someone was.

Happily eating his food, Tim continued his directionless walk around the city. He was starting to actually regret leaving his home. At least there he had a place to stay, but in this new city, he'd have to rent a place or stay in a hotel. All things which cost money. Money that he sadly didn't have. After saving have of his burrito, he began to think that maybe finding a job would help him out a little. Maybe he could even ask some people if they had room in their homes. Though, as one would expect, each time he walked towards a stranger asking if they had anything he could do for a buck or two, or if they would mind having a stranger sleep on their couch, he was either cursed at or ran away from. "So much for karma," he said, giving up and deciding sleeping on the streets a couple of nights wouldn't be so bad. Call it what you will. Coincidence, luck, or misfortune. Whatever it was actually wasn't set in stone yet, but for the first time in his life, his animal like following on his instincts were starting to scream at him. It could be compared to a bad feeling, or, as he liked to say, spider-mans senses. Usually, it meant that he was in trouble, and that was by just feeling a small hint of what he was currently feeling. He looked around in paranoid manner. Whatever it was, was sure to be a bomb or maybe someone else with devastating power. Though, after a couple turns, he kind of felt dumb. He was slowly getting use to the feeling, even though he still felt it, which was good, but the fact that he was feeling that way at all without anything happening was weird. The sky wasn't turning black and no one around was screaming. Totally out of the ordinary.

Where a normal person would try to avoid situations like these, or leave the area completely, Tim kept searching for what was causing him to feel uncomfortable, even going so far as to walk in different directions to see if he could heighten the feeling. Once he found a little pressure, he moved closer and closer, becoming uncomfortably more hostile as he approached the unknown. Like a curious cat he continued, thinking nothing of the danger of whatever it was that he was about to face. In fact he invited it. The closer he became, the more excited he began to feel. That was, until he had a scent pierce his nostrils and deliver him a kick which made him slap his face so hard it stung. "What the heck? It smells like something died and got burned with a lot of other somethings and died." Of course, since his nose was sensitive the smell could have been coming from across the street or miles away. He looked around and saw that the people around him weren't reacting like he was. Which made him feel great to know that he wasn't all that close. Yup. Just meant that he'd get a stronger scent of the nasty thing once he got there. Sure, he thought about stopping. He even turned around once. However, once he did he began thinking about how he was going to let a smell beat him away from his direction. That was right. He had to prove a point. Timothy wasn't going to be beaten by a smell.

The further he went, the more people seemed to be disappearing, as if they weren't invited in that part of town, and of course the smell was starting to bury itself more and more into his nostrils. Soon it seemed as if the road was completely abandoned, like something out of an apocalyptic movie. He knew he was getting close, especially once he saw a couple of animals sprawled out on the street. A mouse, two kittens and a couple of birds. All dead and not because of roadkill. Looking around he spotted a building that looked as if it was abandoned and he guessed it was his target location. Upon walking up to it he felt as if the smell was finally too much to handle and decided to breathe with his mouth. Bad idea. With one breath he automatically threw up on the sidewalk. "Awe man," he sighed, whipping his mouth. "There goes my lunch and dinner. Now I'm hungry again. Not like I have an appetite.

Walking inside the building was even worse than being outside. Once in, he felt as if the hairs inside his nose were burning and became light headed. Almost to the point of passing out. Though, it wasn't as if he was thinking straight. He was still following his earlier M.O and looked for the cause of his uncomfortable feeling, as well as the cause of the smell. He walked for only a couple minutes, but they had to be the harshest minutes of his life. The more he walked, the worse he had felt. Finally, he heard the sound of something not too far away from his own location. Tim followed the sound and saw a figure that looked like a person, though he didn't know if he would find another dead body or a living being. The smell was hard to explain. He had smelled a rotting corpse before, but never had he sniffed air that was rotten with all sorts of dead specimens. Rats, insects, some more rodents, and a couple small cats. This was no place for a person to be. With each step closer to the person, he had felt his own body fading away. It was as if he was slowly walking through death valley. Cold sweats began to trickle across his skin and his vision was blurred. No. Not so much blurred as do to him having trouble keeping his eyes open. "Hey," he tried to yell as loud as he could. "Hey!!! D-Don't just sit there. We... We should..." His legs gave in and he finally dropped. The sensation was hard to explain. While feeling worse than the time he had caught the flu as a kid, he also was starting to feel comfortable. So comfortable in fact, he just wanted to fall asleep. "Listen. We should. . . Get out . . . Of. . . here." Apart from the loud thump of his body hitting the floor, his words had become nothing more than whispers. He was out like a light and there was nothing he could do about while inside that area. He had started to regret following his instincts and not his brain. Timothy even began wondering why his instincts would take him to this location. Maybe it wasn't his instincts, but himself that decided to do it. After all, he did have a feeling earlier that he needed to turn back. However, it didn't matter now. Nothing did.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Kelsier Achylis Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny

Earnings

0.00 INK

Mei


Running down the stairs like an excited child, Mei held onto the rail to swing herself onto the next flight of stairs. Thankfully there were only two flights of stairs for her to go down, although the building itself was pretty big. Walking through the halls the small girl came across only a few Wickeds, which was surprising since it was still a couple hours before the sun would go down. Passing by a clock, Mei back pedaled to get a better look at the time keeper. “3:48! It’s still early.” scratching the back of her head, Mei continued to wonder the halls in search of the new recruits.

Eventually she found them but it was really only thanks to Josephs blabbering mouth that she realized that the group she heard talking were the people she had been looking for. She rounded the corner just in time to catch the last words of “So what know guys?” Standing behind them she coughed into her hand folding her arms across her chest in hopes they’d notice her. Scowling a little bit Mei tapped Joseph on the shoulder before calling out to the small group. “Well I finally found you guys. So are you going to have them stay standing in the hallway Joseph, or are you going to take them to their rooms?” poking him in the ribs.

Turning to the other two, it made her a bit gloomy knowing only two people had joined in on the recruitment. Looking away for a moment she stuck out her hand a smile on her face, “I don’t think I’ve introduced myself. I’m Mei, Mei Kulakov, and if you haven’t noticed it yet I’m Russian. Any how I guess I’ll be taking one of you guys to your room and Joseph can take the other.” Looking back and forth between the two of them, she chose to go with the kid with the white hair. Turning her attention back to Joseph Mei frowned a bit, “Well I guess I’ll be going then. I have stuff to do.”

Mei led the kid to his room, not bothering to say a word to him. Leaving him shortly afterwards, Mei went back to her room.

A Few Days Later
Morgan&Mei


By now most of the new recruits should have gotten used to the idea of living amongst others like them. Mei had gotten tired of answering questions and having to find people. Morgan on the other hand was looking forwards to the events of the day a certain person was coming by to help with Morgans problem. For the past couple of days he had been forced to wear an eye patch so that he could look through the one lenses that worked in his old glasses. Rubbing his face Morgan leaned back in his chair before taking a bite out of an apple. Ever since Cain had gone off on that mission of his, the whole building had been forced to make their own food. The realization of having relied on his close friend for so long made him chuckle. Tossing the apple core into a nearby trash can, Morgan shuffled the papers in front of him into a neat pile. “Looks like we have some stuff to do.” recently he had gotten word of an Other who had taken hold of a nearby area, rendering just about everything in a sickened state.

With that in mind, Morgan thought about Mercy who was similar to this Other however hers was a bit more controlled it seemed. Rubbing his hands together a grin spread itself across his face at the surprise he had for his friend. Morgan grabbed the papers and quickly left to find the other Veterans from recruitment day. Hmm maybe I should bring in some of the new recruits, might as well get them ready for the times ahead. Yeah that Shadow kid would be useful. The first room he stopped off at was Mei’s room, knocking on the door he poked his head in her room only to close it quickly before he got a shoe in the face. Chuckling he explained to her the mission that they would be going out on later that day. The next person was Joseph and seeing as that Shadow kid was nearby he knocked on his door as well but only to inform him to go the kitchen area with Joseph.

The last person he went to was Mercy. Knocking on her door, he waited for a moment before opening the door cautiously this time in case he got shoe thrown at him again. “Hey Mercy we got a job that needs to be done. So when you’re up and ready come to the kitchen area and I’ll explain then.” closing the door he went to his office of sorts making sure he had everything ready for later that day. Once that was done, Morgan rushed back to the kitchen area glad to see everyone was there already. Taking a seat in front of the group Morgan smiled. “Well I’m sure you guys know what this little gathering will be about. We have a job that needs to be done. An Other has taken hold a certain area nearby, rendering just about everything in a sickened state. From what I understand the closer you get to the source the worse off you get and there have even been some fatalities but mostly from small animals and birds. “ Morgan looked over them but focused his attention on Shadow who was the only new recruit of the group. “Any ways this is how it will work. Mei you’ll have to hang back from the warehouse as far as you can but close enough for you to get a shot at them if need be. Joseph I want you to keep her company, make sure she doesn’t get distracted. As for you two’ he motioned to Mercy and Shadow, ‘Mercy seeing as you’re really the only one who would be immune to this stuff you’ll have to lead the way into the warehouse. And that is where Shadow will come in, you will need to keep Mercy safe since you’re next in line in resistance. I won’t be going as there is a certain person who will be coming by today that requires my whole attention. So Mercy I’ll be leaving you in charge of the mission. And I think that’s all, you guys should be back by tonight. Oh and Mercy I have something to show you but that will have to be done later.”

Leaving them to think about what has just been told to them. Morgan walked out into the nearby hallway and to the main entrance to welcome an old friend.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Byte
Image

Mercy was never really a fan of being woken up. Despite the good will of Morgan, she appreciated it more when left on her own merits to spring into gear. And under normal circumstances, she would. After about a month with the Wicked Ones, Mercy had made it a habit to rise bright and early to prevent having to half-consciously toss the nearest object at the door and scare whoever did wake her up. However, since Cain was gone for undisclosed reasons, reasons that Mercy had tried to pry out of Morgan to no avail, she had willingly taken up some of his duties so Morgan had less to worry about and could take some time to recover from his injuries.

Although from the looks of it. He already had.

“Alright, alright...” She murmured under a failed attempt to hide a yawn. “I'm coming.”

About half an hour later of stumbling through the room, Mercy had managed to dress herself without missing bits and pieces of her 'usual' attire and carefully entered the kitchen just in time to hear Morgan brief the group on a new job.

This job, however, piqued her interest more so than the others before it. Someone with a similar ability to hers? Well, it hadn't been disproven that two individuals could develop a similar type, if not completely the same ability.

With a quick nod, Mercy waited for Morgan to leave before speaking her piece. “Plain and simple. Stick to your job, and everything should work out like always.” And with that, Mercy lead herself and the others to the whereabouts of this mysterious 'Other'...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Damioa
|| Joseph Broliny ||

Joe looked at Mei's frown, dropping his current grin with a questionable look on his face. He really didn't understand why she was gloomy, but just passed it off as her thinking about Morgan instead. "Alrighty then," he said turning to Shadow, "Apparently you guys are in luck. We expected more recruits and honestly made preparations a little too fast. Though, since we did you get to have your own room. Ain't that fun? Follow me while I give you the watch around."

The first room the man took him in was a small room with a big table in the center. Behind the room was a door to another room. "This is basically where we eat. Actually, I eat in my room, or at least try to. Not very much a fan of eating around other people hehe. Oh yeah and this room over here," he said while walking to the bigger open area room, "This is the living room. I suppose you can also call it a wreck room. Tis a place where you can play games and watch t.v. if you don't want to be alone. Believe me, even the most secluded of people come here and you don't even know when. Could be in the middle of the night, or at the crack of dawn. Wanna know why? It's because we can't pay to send perfect cable with recording through this big place. Bad enough we have the internet reaching from floor to floor. So basically, someone will come here to record or watch a recorded show."

After showing the new guy the bathrooms, the empty rooms, the closets and the attic, Joe went the route of his room on the second floor and walked to the room next to it. "Here ya go bud. I was hoping I'd be able to get another next door neighbor. Across from here is Mercy's room, Three doors down is Morgans room, Two doors that way is Cain's, That door over there is Mei's room, this room is yours, and right next to you is good ole me. Oh yeah, if I go missing for a couple of days and come back, don't wake me up for anything, even if it's important. I'll arrive sooner or later anyways. Okidoki, that's my spull. You might want to unpack or whatever. I'll be down stairs. Let me know if you want to play some Street Fighter later, kay? Byeeeee~"


After that, the days went by just as always, and Joe liked it that way. It was better uneventful and peaceful, than rough and violent. It was not only good for his nerves, but also for him as a person not to be around chaos too much. Though Morgan's words made his head drop a little. Mostly because he originally thought the gathering was to discuss what new food they were going to buy for the month. For the most part of the conversation, Joe was looking at Morgan, but his mind was off somewhere else. It wasn't an unusual thing at all. He never did have a huge attention span. Though, in tasks that were given out to him he would only listen for one type of word. Anything to do with the word blowing up or destroying. That's all he was really good at anyway. At least in his opinion.

He did, however, catch the part that he would be in the back with Mei. That in itself wasn't a guarantee he wouldn't have to create any sort of bang, but in most cases, if the the person wasn't a super human, Mei's gun would work. Though he had always wondered, could the girl take a fatal shot. A shot that was meant not exactly for a super mutant, but a person who could be considered a dangerous foe. When was the last time their gang went against someone really dangerous? It rung no bell to the man. Though, he did remember himself being fought against before he joined them. He smiled remembering the event even though he was in conflict with most of the people who are his friends now. That day was really a day he couldn't forget. The day he was saved from being an other.

Joe had never really thought what being an other really entailed until he saw a few. From those he saw he could very well say they were dangerous to themselves and others. All the more reason he didn't mind staying near Mei, since he was sure if the fight got close and personal everyone else would be okay. However, he wasn't sure about the girls close combat abilities.

"Alrighty partner. Looks like we get to post up, military sniper style. You ready?" Joe smiled ruffling up his friends hair.[/color]

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny

Earnings

0.00 INK

Mei


Rolling over to her side a knock sounded on her door causing her to sit up suddenly and grab the nearest thing she could reach. In this case it was a shoe and she launched it at whoever dared to peek into her room while she was sleeping. “MORGAN!!” yelling out his name as if it were a curse. He then began to explain to her the mission but it was a bit muffled through the door. Rubbing her ear Mei yawned, “Man okay I’ll be ready in a bit.”

Falling back to her bed Mei groaned at the idea of actually having to go today. The past few days were like bliss and now they had a mission to handle. Groaning once more the small girl slipped out of bed and quickly got dressed in her usual attire, a hunting jacket over a plain t-shirt, a pair of blue jeans and finally her hunting boots. Taking a look at herself in the mirror she leaned forwards to fix her hair a bit before rushing out of her room. Pausing in the stair well Mei cursed under her breathe and ran back to her room to grab a large case. “Can’t believe I almost forgot that.” Heading back to the stairs, Mei soon joined the others in the kitchen.

Sitting on a stool, Mei ate a bowl of cereal while Morgan explained to them what was gonna happen. She gave a side long glance at Mercy happy to see a change in authority going to one of the female veterans for once. Once Morgan left Mercy spoke her piece which wasn’t much, not that she expected anything more. Knowing that she’d be paired up with Joe Mei frowned a bit glancing at her older friend. "Alrighty partner. Looks like we get to post up, military sniper style. You ready?" Looking in his direction Mei’s frown twitched into a small smile. “Just don’t distract me Joe.” she said before drinking the milk from her bowl. As soon as she said that Joe ruffled her hair, the sudden action made Mei spit out some of her milk. “I’m not a kid.”

Glaring at Joe she slid of the chair and put the bowl in the sink and ran some hot water over it. For now she’d leave it where it was until they came back. Stuffing her hands into her pocket, Mei followed after Mercy as she led them to where they needed to go.

An hour later


It took them a little longer than expected to reach the area that surrounded the warehouse. Just from the looks it was obvious they were in the right place. Even from this distance there were some animals dead or near dead on the ground but there weren’t people on the floor as much as she could see. “Geez just being here makes me feel nauseous.” Looking around she saw the perfect building which to watch from, “Hey we’ll take that building over there, it should give me a clear view of the warehouse.” Looking over at Joe Mei walked to the building. It took them a few minutes to find the stairwell that would lead them to the roof. When they finally reached the top Mei adjusted the large case on her shoulder before opening the door to the rooftop.

Rushing over to the edge of the rooftop Mei brought up one foot and leaned on it. Shading eyes with her hand, Mei activated her ability and her eyes began to glow a pale red. Her normally green eyes widened slightly as she looked around from where she stood. A grin suddenly formed on her face, “Good this is just the spot. I can easily aim for the warehouse but only if they leave through the front entrance. Did Morgan mention there being a back entrance?” stepping back Mei placed her case on the ground and opened it to reveal a rather large firearm. To be more precise an anti-tank rifle.

Setting it up on the ground, Mei quickly got down seeing if she had it in the right position. “Awesome!” sitting back up Mei brought her knees up tucked close to her chest. “Well I guess for now we just wait and see right?” looking up at Joe.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Byte
Image

In hindsight, it might've been a good idea to follow the morbid trail of sick birds and dead mammals since those subtly grew in number as the group came close to their destination. Acknowledging that Joseph and Mei had left in search for a proper vantage point, Mercy lead the remaining member with her into the thick of death and decay. Your average, moral individual would hurl from just the sight of it. Mercy, however, wasn't so much a stranger to dead animals. Worse, she had grown accustomed to dead humans. Luckily, those had not yet appeared, much to the woman's relief.

“Check for other entrances and exits, and keep an eye on them. If there aren't, you meet up with me inside.” Mercy commanded, jutting a finger at the alleyway leading to the back of the warehouse. She could handle this herself. Like Morgan said, if these powers were related to a disease, she'd be immune. If it was a poison, she wouldn't be affected either. Still, she'd be on her toes just to be certain.

The building itself looked old and torn, showing that it hadn't been cared for or used in many years. The inside was much the same, Mercy found as she entered through the door that was supported by a single, rusty hinge. She didn't know what to expect. The initial briefing had left Mercy eager to find this person, it'd mean an opportunity to learn if their powers did end up being similar. But... What if the person was hostile?

Only time would tell...

Mercy scurried through the left over boxes and broken pipes, keeping an eye out to see if she could spot this otherkind. “Hello~? Anybody home?” She jested, proceeding to stand in the centre of the rundown building and patiently waiting for someone to come out.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny

Earnings

0.00 INK

Shadow Loveheart



Almost instantly after he spoke a girl appeared before the group and struck a small conversation with us, well mainly with Joseph telling him to get us to our room and and give us a tour of the area. She introduced herself as Mei Kulakov she was Russian as she said, Shadow knew she was already part of the Wicked Ones so she might as well be a veteran as she gave "orders" to Joseph. I only smiled while this happened. Without a moments notice the girl turned around with the other new recruits and showed them to their room, Shadow was with Joseph.

Joseph gave a grand tour of the building showing us the Kitchen, Living room and even the living quarters of the other ones in the building Shadow tried his best memorizing the area so he wouldn't get lost. Shadow was good at remembering but he also had to talk with Joseph and ask little questions and what not nothing to special to mention just the know hows. Finally Shadow was introduced to his own room, Shadow gave his thanks to the man and went inside his room as he left. It was nothing special a average room with a small bed nothing too shabby, Shadow had his very own backpack which held a bit of cloths and essentials, like money, a notebook and pencil, his phone and a few other things; he survived with little things since he was always on the move since he didn't fit in that much anywhere he went. Shadow quickly unpacked his few things, started planning on what to do to "Personalize" his room. "Some posters here and there, a paint job, a few more cloths, a rug would be nice to hide a few of the scratches, a desk maybe for when I draw or write my amateur novels. This could work out, though I will need a job for this to be achieved in the future, but lets take it easy first and socialize with everyone I just can't wait!" Shadow said to himself completely ecstatic he has finally found somewhere where he can be himself without being judged and the sort.

The days passed and Shadow only wandered around and talked with the other Wickeds trying to get to know them better. He would usually get complemented on his looks by other male Wickeds due to Shadow feminine physique and looks he would play along sometimes and the such but nothing to serious. He would have gotten lost a few time walking around the building but know he can find his way in the building easily. He would secretly use his Wind manipulation from time to time still not trusting himself to let the other know of his actual ability....

One day he got a knock on his door from Morgan telling Shadow to go to the kitchen with Joseph, Shadow wondered what would make the leader call out Shadow for but he disregarded this and after putting on his usual cloths, he came out. Shadow headed himself to the Kitchen, Shadow was wide awake seeing as he was awake prior to him getting called he is a early bird that wake us early to train or write on his notebook. upon entering the Kitchen Shadow saw a whole other bunch of Wicked ones heck it was safe to say that out of everyone here Shadow was the only recruit amongst them, "I wonder what this is about?" Shadow thought and quietly looked as the discussion began. We were briefed on a mission an other got a hold of an area and we needed to go and check it out. Shadow was paired up with Mercy who was to take charge on the mission and confront the other with his help, Shadow knew little of Mercy every time he would try to strike a conversation he would get ignored or told to go away or something of the sort. He was interested a bit in the Wicked but out of all the Wicked she and Cain were the only ones he knew almost nothing about "I wonder how this would work out, no matter I have to make a good impression as this is my first assignment!" Shadow thought. The other seamed to have an ability where things get sickened the closer you get it, well Shadow did have an enhanced body so he could get closer than normal but he really doesn't know what the limitations would be he would have to experience it to asses the situation and obviously not try and get in over his head on things.

Mercy and the others left to find the area this "Other" had taken over, finding themselves in a trail of dead animals and insects, "Well isn't this swell?" Shadow said to himself. Soon Mei and Joseph divided themselves form the group to carry out their part of the plan, which left only Mercy and Shadow respectfully. He would follow Mercy and keep and eye out for the surrounding seeing if he could find anything suspicious but to no avail. The trail of dead and decaying animal got thicker as they got closer to the area, "The stink is getting worse as well." Shadow thought but kept strong. He would wonder what type of ability this other had but over thinking it would be a lost cause.
Mercy gave an order for Shadow “Check for other entrances and exits, and keep an eye on them. If there aren't, you meet up with me inside.” she said, Shadow nodded and followed the alleyway without a second thought. It was no use to worry about Mercy as it was said that she would be immune to this sort of ability and on top of that she was a Veteran so she could easily defend herself if need be, but even with all that Shadow couldn't help to feel a bit uneasy.

He cautiously walked through the alley seeing corpses of animals here and there it was repugnant but Shadow could sustain that much. Shadow reached the back of the old warehouse there was a back door there just like mercy said, then Shdow was to stay put and watch it but Shadow decided to inspect said door. He tried to open it but to no avail it was rusted shut, "Wow its rusted shut, I could break it open with enough force but I don't see anyone but me breaking or opening this door..." Shadow said and looked around a bit the warehouse was rusted and old having a few holes on it. He decided to look through one of them but it was dark inside so he couldn't see much nothing out of the ordinary though, just the awful smell of decay coming from the inside. Shadow then took a few steps back leaning on the alleys wall by the shadows and crouched looking at the surroundings. "Maybe I should go meet up with Mercy? Seeing the door is rusted shut." Shadow thought but decided to wait a bit and see if anything happened......

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Monica Crawford Character Portrait: Timothy Jeromeo

Earnings

0.00 INK

Monica


Monica frowned staring down at her hands. She wanted to cry but the young woman was already used to all this death. It followed her everywhere she went. Rubbing at dry eyes she shifted positions so that she could be a bit more comfortable. Monica was glad she was able to find someplace to stay even if it was old and abandoned. It simply meant she wouldn't have to deal with people.

Reaching for a nearby rusty pole she tapped the ground absentmindedly, even going so far as to prod a dead mouse just out of arms reach of herself. It was then that a loud shuffling could be heard entering the warehouse. Surprised by it Monica quickly stood wondering how anybody could possibly have managed to enter considering the deathly miasma that hung around her. It was a young man her own age she guessed and he was pretty dumb to try and approach her.

Adding distance between the two of them, Monica was wary of the arrival of another human being but then she shook her head to rid herself of such a thought. You're not human not even close. You're a monster of death. A bit frightened as the guy continued to try and speak to her, she knew it was pointless seeing as he'd probably die soon enough. Most of the people who were in the surrounding area left when they smelled the miasma but none of them stayed long enough for it to really affect them. However this time she knew he wasn't going to die which lightened her depressed mood but just barely.

Watching, with a now apathetic face, as the kid fell to the floor unconscious Monica moved away to another part of the building. She wasn't about to touch the kid least she do kill him. That and she just wanted to be alone.

Few Days Later


The young woman woke up later than she expected she would. It was the sound of a rusty door being moved that woke her. Sitting up quickly Monica scurried to the shadows only briefly glancing at the kids body from a few nights ago. Once again she wondered how anyone was able to get this far. There was no way the door just opened by themselves. It could also have been a ghost although Monica was a manipulator of nether energy, the energy of death, she wasn't a strong believer of ghosts. Of course she wouldn't be surprised if some ghost tried to kill her for accidentally killing them.

Suddenly a voice rang out, echoing throughout the more or less empty warehouse. For a moment Monica's heart fluttered. The young woman wanted to come out but she really didn't want to deal with people lest they feel repulsed by her presence. It seemed that this person, a woman she assumed from their voice, was genuinely interested in knowing that someone was there.

Biting her lip Monica shuffled out of the shadows, peeking around a column of old concrete. It was enough to be seen by the woman but Monica made sure there was distance between them so she wouldn't necessarily have to deal with her. The woman before her seemed perfectly fine being around her despite the deathly miasma. Curious Monica spoke for what seemed like a very long time. "How are you still alive?" Frowning Monica looked downwards a look of guilt apparent on her face. She was just waiting for the woman to fall down unconscious or be repulsed by her presence.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus

Earnings

0.00 INK




Image




Frankly speaking, things were going quite poorly for the Wicked's Butler.

Though he had been expecting some trouble, upon accepting this assignment a few days ago, he had not expected it would go anywhere near this badly.

Wind whistled by as massive, feathered wing-beats cut the crisp air. Against the bitter cold, Cain's arms wound themselves even tighter against the shoulders and neck of his mighty companion. Urged ever faster, the mighty Griffon shrieked against the wind, furiously gaining speed and altitude at its masters worsening condition. Cain was running out of time. "Please... my friend. Hurry." Cain uttered softly, his voice barely a whisper. "Cain!" The mighty familiar's voice boomed, barely sounding through the howling wind. "Hold on! We're almost there! Stay with me for just a bit longer!"




With a slowly dawning horror in his sightless eyes, Cain watched through the Cheshire cat as Morgan was swept up by Aini in an instant. Cain continued to shepherd the new recruits away from Aini as if nothing had happened, but Ches visibly bristled. The hair on his back stood up, his tail poofed into a massive bottlebrush and writhed vigorously in hatred. The Cat then hissed, baring it's fangs at Aini, and though Ches's immediate thought was to phase through Aini's limbs, removing them from existence, he hesitated. If Aini moved, and Ches phased through Morgan, he might even kill him. Instead, the cowardly Cheshire cat slunk low to the ground, advancing on Aini. It no longer hissed, its hair matted back down onto its back, and its tail swept back down upon the ground, having become sleek and thin once more. Ches was waiting, and though it had abandoned its defensive posture for an offensive one, it continued to bare its fangs at Aini, waiting until either Morgan was dead, or Aini gave him a chance to strike.

Surprisingly, and with Mei's intervention, Aini left. Unfortunately, she managed to do so without leaving Ches an opportunity to remove her head from her shoulders, and so the cat stood, and strode towards Morgan, laying down next to him so as to shield him from any attackers until Cain could reach him. "Quite the pickle you're in, eh? Without those glasses of yours, it'll be rather difficult to get out of here. Worry not, Morgan. Cain is almost here. As much as I pretend to dislike my master, he is perfectly suited for these sorts of things." Sure enough, just as Ches had finished speaking, Cain had sent the New Recruits off towards their new home base and made his way over to Morgan. "Morgan, I'm here!" Cain said to his friend, soothing but concerned. "Tell me, my friend, what can I do for you? Should I bring out Esme?" As Cain reached back into his holster to draw forth one of the most powerful cards in his possession, Morgan simply shook his head. Motioning for Cain to come closer, Morgan all but whispered, "I need you to look into something for me, can you do that?" Cain nodded vigorously, nearly shouting in response. "Of course, my friend, I'll do whatever you need of me." At that, Morgan began to speak, and though Cain's sightless amber eyes widened as his friend spoke, they soon drew taught with a fierce determination. When Morgan had finally finished his instructions for Cain, the manservant nodded obediently, snapping his fingers, calling Ches to immediate attention. "Ches, we're moving out. There's a job that needs doing, and we're the only ones who can. Lead on, Ches." The cat scowled, mock pouting. "Something tells me this job of ours won't be including my favorite spot on the sunlit ledge of the only window back home, will it? So much for that nap. Well then, let's go." The cat finished with a smirk, and began softly padding towards the back of the mall, were the roof access was, with Cain following swiftly behind.




Weaving deftly between the gloomy clouds, laden heavy with rain, the mighty Griffon raced through the sky with a reckless speed. He could feel the flow of energy from Cain into himself growing ever weaker, and it was growing harder and harder to maintain his physical form. Their path seemed to stretch on forever before them, and the Griffon only grew more and more agitated as the miles between them and safety disappeared at an agonizingly slow pace. With every wing-beat, every second, and every pocket of turbulent air, Cain's reishi and heartbeat grew weaker and weaker. What little flame still burned above his master's hand was dangerously dull, a sign that Cain wasn't just barely holding on to the summoning, his very life hung delicately in the balance. Just as the Griffon began to fear that his master's energy would run out, hope blossomed in his chest. There it was, the old warehouse building through which they could access the Wicked's base! Shrieking with a triumphant joy, the Griffon surged forward, falling out of the sky like a feathered meteor. Just as it seemed the pair would be flattened, utterly crushed by their impending impact, the Griffon's wings flared, catching the air like a parachute, and slowing their descent to a manageable speed. Not intending to slow down for even a second, the Griffon landed hard, and hit the ground running. Galloping at a reckless pace, the Griffon barreled through the warehouse doors, and poured itself through the warehouse, smashing through the false wall that led them down the secret passageway that would bring Cain home without a second to spare.

Cantering down the hallway, the Griffon realized, albeit somewhat too late, that he would be running out of room to slow down. The beast reared, kicking it's front legs up into the air, and nearly dislodging its rider, that was still clutching to the beast for dear life. Agitated beyond all reason, the beast cast its gaze all across the main entrance way until its fiery amber eyes came to rest upon the bespectacled leader of the Wickeds. "Morgan!" The creature boomed, relieved at the sight of an ally, but still in the direst of haste. "Cain is wounded beyond all hope of mundane medical recovery. Ten of his cards were shattered and he's lost far too much blood, I barely have the strength left to carry him. We need to bring Cain to the Infirmary and you must assist him in summoning the Lantern Bearer, this is no time for questions!" The mighty Griffon pleaded, begging Morgan to help save the life of its master.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Huey St. Portus Character Portrait: Gemma Morrow

Earnings

0.00 INK

“Take it off!”

Huey pulled at the gunmetal-gray collar around his neck, a panicked look fresh upon his face. For a newly-christened fifteen-year-old, the boy was a little short for his age, though that knowledge wasn't novel to him. He had tan mocha-hued brown skin, which was perfectly accented by his bright amber eyes currently rounded in agitation. Once again, he yanked at the thick hexagonal choker fastened tightly around his neck, trying his very hardest to worm his fingers in through the small cleavage left between it and his skin. After a few seconds of fruitless struggling, he finally gave up, exhaling loudly. He was obviously flustered.

Frowning deeply, Huey turned his head, leveling his tormentor with a steely glare. The boy’s hair, black a night, seemed at odds with the rest of his body. A large unkempt mass it was, balanced symmetrically atop his scalp as if by sheer luck. Some might have called it an afro, though it resembled not a delicately sculpted oval or semicircle, but a wild and ferocious gaggle of thick roots that went in every which direction. It was the style of a person who couldn’t be bothered to keep up with society’s standards, and it gave Huey the look of a mad scientist upon first blush. The sight was tempered, however, by the unusually demure impression his countenance tended to impart.

Of course, Huey was anything but calm or reserved at the moment.

“Come on!” He said, subconsciously upping his voice in pitch and octave. “How long do I have to stay like this, lady?”

His tormentor did not shy away from the boy’s piercing glare, electing to stare right back at him, her dense golden irises equally as piercing. Where he frowned in frustration, she grinned in glee.

“I told you, call me Neer, my dear Huey.” She smiled politely, the warmth of her tone and expression completely encompassing the entirety of her face. Simultaneously, she flipped the paper over on the clipboard she held, revealing a fresh page. “So tell me more,” she began, taking a step towards Huey. The boy mirrored her motion, but in reverse, taking a step away from Neer. “How do you invoke your ability? Is it merely instinctual? Or is it logical? Involuntary? Visceral?”

She took another step towards Huey, and Huey took another step back away from her. Unfortunately for him, his back was now flush with the wall. There was no more room for retreat. She started scribbling furiously as she spoke, soon filling the entire top half of the paper with handwriting so atrocious that it was only decipherable by Neer herself.

“Do you have to make contact with a certain part of your body when you do it?” She continued, her voice speeding up drastically. “How does it feel? How about other forces? Heat? Can you feel heat? Pain? Anything at all? How about electricity?! I’d love to run some experiments on you! Oh! What’s the highest you’ve ever jumped?! Have you ever been hit by a car?! Hmm?!” Eventually, she began to speak so fast that her words blurred into single stream of gibberish, the pen in her hand flying across the paper before it with an impractically swift yet predictable rhythm, like a typewriter on turbo.

Huey just leered daggers at her, folding his arms in unyielding obstinance, turning his head to the side in defiance, and saying nothing. If looks could kill… and mere daggers could fell someone like Neer, perhaps she would have died.

Neer’s rapid-fire round of questioning came to an end when she finally noticed that her respondent wasn’t reacting to any of her prompts. She pursed her lips—not in annoyance or frustration, but in curiosity. The child before her was quite a bit shorter than she was—five four to her five nine by her visual approximation. Her eyes were mechanical rather than organic, so she tended to trust her visual approximations. Still, an approximation is just that. Her eyes also allowed her to estimate that he weighed no more than 120 pounds, yet another metric she outclassed him in. In comparison, she herself weighed in at a staggering fourth-of-a-ton. That’s a good five to six hundred pounds.

Not a lot of fun to be around on an elevator.

Neer observed Huey’s generally unkempt appearance didn’t stop at his hair. Though it did little to hide his slim yet oddly toned physique, the boy wore a grimy black tee-shirt that obviously hadn’t seen the inside of a washing machine in weeks. As for the lower half, he was clad in what Neer could only assume were a misappropriated pair of knee-length white shorts with black highlights, coupled with some ordinary pair of shoes. She came to the assumption about the shorts due to how clean they were in comparison to the rest of him. They were veritably impeccable. Hell, they even looked good on the kid.

In comparison, Neer herself wore a tight gray form-fitting one-piece. Coupled with her perfect curves, plump bosom and lengthy flowing white hair, it gave her the look of an athlete fresh off the field, or an astronaut preparing to don the big suit. The outfit was of her own design, of course. Neer was a serial tinkerer if nothing else and loved not anything more than creating stuff, from clothing to weapons and everything in between.

“If you don’t answer my questions, this is going to get a lot less fun for you, Huey.” She said, still grinning merrily.

Huey didn’t miss the iron in her voice, and flinched slightly at her last few words. Once more, he brought hands up to the cool metal that encircled his neck, though he did not tug at it. Seems he’d given up on that course of action.

But Huey was no stranger to threats, and even less so to pain. As such, he kept his mouth shut, vowing silence. Neer took another step forward in response, her lengthy form towering well over the boy, her body casting a noticeable shadow in the wake of the sterile fluorescent lighting that permeated the room. Neer’s home was tiled in white from floor to ceiling, like a hospital room but without the antiseptic odor. Unsurprisingly, the place was pretty messy, from what Huey had seen. Scraps of cloth and metal remains lay strewn across the floor like discarded clothes.

Huey hated the place upon first stepping foot within it.

“Hmm.” Neer took a knee, lowing herself until she was eye level with her youthful ward. Huey refused to look at her, instead staring off to the side. “I thought you wanted to join the Wicked Ones, sweet Huey,” she said, her tone gaining gravity.

At the mention of the Wicked Ones, Huey’s eyes snapped forward, meeting Neer’s. What he saw there wasn’t the glint of stratagem or glimmer of malice, but the depth of simple inquisitiveness. He raised an eyebrow when she failed to go on, the outright candor of her statement making him forget his internal vow of silence.

“Yeah… what about it?” He mumbled.

She grinned, bringing her face to within millimeters of his. This caused the area under Huey’s eyes to flush red as he subconsciously pressed himself further backwards into the wall.

“Uhh…” He mumbled, his eyes shifting to and fro, unsure of on what to focus.

Neer was obviously enjoying making Huey squirm, but ruined the moment by dropping her clipboard and pulling a tape measure out of one of her many hidden pockets. “I have connections, Huey. I know them.”

Huey grimaced, responding quickly. “Do you really?” His tone had a caustic sarcastic edge to it. This was how she’d pulled one over on him just a few short hours ago. It was how he got into this mess in the first place. Huey saw the signs. They were a thinly coded messages—ones that lead him and three other street kids straight into a trap. Neer’s trap. One minute they were waiting around in an abandoned warehouse and the next, Neer pops up out of nowhere like some psycho white-haired Batman. Snaps some metal collar around the neck of the person closest to her. Unfortunately, that happened to be Huey. The others used the opportunity to escape, leaving the boy to his fate.

So much for honor among fellow homeless, huh.

“Yes, Huey,” she said, using her free hand to pull at the measuring tape. She began taking measurements of his arms as words fell from her mouth. She didn’t miss a beat. “Despite what you may think of me, I’m no liar.” She paused in her efforts to measure the boy, catching his eye. “Though, I guess if I were a liar, that’s something I would say.”

They stared at each other for an awkward moment before Neer resumed her measuring. “Anyways, chances are: I can get you in if you’re with me. You just gotta do as I say, dearest Huey.”

“Can you stop saying my name?” He muttered, almost under his breath. At the same time, he darted to his left and out from under her oppressive presence, shaking off her attempt to measure the width of his chest. He didn’t move far though. Not like he had anywhere to run, plus the collar…

“And stop touching me!” He demanded. “Just let me go or leave me alone.”

With the subject of her measurements having moved, Neer released the business-end of her tape measure, letting the flimsy material snap back into its furled compacted position with a pop! She slanted her head to the side, throwing Huey an imperceptible look.

And then she picked up her clipboard, pen at the ready. "Hmm. Hey, were you able to use your ability just now?”

Huey caught himself shaking his head in response to her most recent question, electing instead to stare at the ground by his feet, brow furrowed. He wasn’t sure how to proceed in light of her previous statements. Was she telling the truth? Did she really know the real Wicked Ones? Could she really get him in?

Or maybe it was another trick.

For what purpose was this lady collecting homeless kids interested in the Wicked Ones? Kids with abilities? And if she really was picking them up… Huey hadn’t noticed anyone else around Neer’s place. Where were the other kids? Why was he the only one here? What was she planning on doing with him? And this choke collar she “invented”. It was constricting to Huey in far more ways than one. He could feel it.

Fool him once, shame on her. Fool him twice…

It was a moment before he spoke again, his voice coming out in a hushed tone. “Yes,” he said, his hands slowly curling into fists. “I want to join the Wicked Ones.”

“Huh?” Neer put a finger to her ear, slipping the clipboard under her arm in order to exaggerate the gesture. “Say again?”

Huey’s grimace returned. “I said: I want to join the Wicked Ones!”

Neer smirked. “Good boy.”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus

Earnings

0.00 INK

Morgan


Clearing his throat, Morgan walked around their home in hopes of clearing his mind for what was to come. He knew the Wicked Ones mad scientist better than most as he’s interacted with her quite a few times. The woman was almost impossible to be around if you didn’t want to be subjected to some random experiment she thought up on the fly. After rubbing the back of his head Morgan sighed and finally went back to the main hallway.


It looked like today wasn’t going to be as serene as he’d hope it would be. An incredibly loud bang erupted from the main hallway, then something crashing through the false wall they had set up. Tensing Morgan immediately assumed it was some Other with a vengeance or worse the government suits whose sole purpose was to hunt his kind down. It turned out to be much worse than he thought but at the same time not. A huge feathered beast galloped into the actually hallway, rearing up to keep itself from going any further. It was then that Morgan noticed the passenger that was hanging on to dear life, and what it was he was staring at in utter shock.

Hands falling away from his glasses, Morgan could only stare back at those amber orbs with its fiery intensity. “Cain!?” taking a hesitant step forwards, Morgan wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. Had Cain passed out, was he just messing with him or was there something genuinely wrong with one of his best friends. Morgan!" Flinching at the sudden booming voice, the griffin had his full attention. Cain is wounded beyond all hope of mundane medical recovery. Ten of his cards were shattered and he's lost far too much blood, I barely have the strength left to carry him. We need to bring Cain to the Infirmary and you must assist him in summoning the Lantern Bearer, this is no time for questions!"

It took the usually cheery Morgan to take a drastic turn in demenor. “What?” Rushing over to his friend’s side, Morgan took Cain’s limp body into his arms straining a bit under the weight. ‘Geez you’ve been eating too much haven’t you old friend.” It was a poor attempt to lessen the tension but it was more so for Morgan’s need than it was for Cain. Pulling Cain’s arm over his shoulder while he held the rest of him, Morgan dragged and carried the blind Wicked to the infirmary.

Upon arriving in the infirmary, Morgan looked to the griffin for further instruction. Even at a time like this the brunette wondered how the creature was even able to squeeze through the small opening that was the door. Listening intently to the griffin’s instructions, Morgan followed them as quickly as possible. Cutting Cain’s wrist with the griffin’s card made Morgan flinch. He couldn’t see why Cain would choose such a method to summon and send back his familiars. Watching the majestic beast vanish into the thin air, Morgan then proceeded to summon Esme the Lantern-Bearer.

With the shy girl by Cain’s side, she shed her lanterns light upon her master and his friend. Kneeling by his friends bedside Morgan was still in a rather dark mood. Focusing his attention on Esme Morgan sighed, pulling his hand through his hair. “Tell me what happened Esme. Who did this and so help me god they’ll be dead before they even know it.” His voice dripped with lethal venom. One of the best ways to test his temper was by hurting his friends and family.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Monica Crawford

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Byte
Image

She expected a lot of things to creep out of the shadows, however, a young girl was not one of them. Like a young child hiding behind their father's leg, the girl peaked out from one of the pillars that supposedly held aloft the run-down building. Mercy stood, calmly, a single hand slowly raising in a nonchalant wave. “Hey there.” The woman spoke, her gasmask muffling the genuine greeting somewhat.

“Come on out. I don't bite... Not hard, anyway.” Mercy took a moment to close the gap between her and the otherkind, yet kept an acceptable distance so she wouldn't scurry back into the dark. Chasing her would just be a nuisance, and expecting hostility at this point was like expecting a child to barge in with a machine gun. Not very likely.

Suddenly, the girl spoke, softly, inquiring about Mercy's state and how she managed to still breathe. “What. Did I luck out on the boobytraps? Darn. Sorry to disappoint.” She retorted casually, a smile hiding underneath her mask. Truth be told, Mercy was stunned. She did not expect this girl to be the cause of all... this. Or maybe she wasn't, but that begged the question how she was still breathing up until this point.

Mercy gently tapped her gasmask wth her index finger. “I guess you could say I'm like you, immune to whatever is getting everyone here sick.” She hoped that this was enough to persuade the girl to come out of hiding. Mercy had no intentions of doing anything that wasn't necessary, and right now she'd rather talk, she was here to help, after all.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Monica Crawford

Earnings

0.00 INK

Shadow Loveheart


Shadow waited for a few minutes but nothing seamed to happen aside from flies dying here and there but nothing out of the ordinary, standing up he decided to meet up with Mercy inside. He walked through the alley filled with death and decay and made his way into the entrance once again. The entrance was slightly open and there was no sign of Mercy so she must be inside trying to find the other. Shadow gulped "Well.... Here goes nothing I guess." Shadow said and went closer and peeked through the rusty door seeing not a single live soul inside. "They must be deeper inside...." Shadow thought.

He stepped inside with his guard up of course he looked around seeing again nothing out of the ordinary inside the rusted and beaten down warehouse. Shadow kept looking trying to find his superior. Then after a few minutes of looking and walking here and there he saw his Green haired superior, Mercy, just standing there conversing with what looked like a young woman. "Is that the other? Totally not what I expected, but looks can be deceiving." Shadow thought. He walked slowly to Mercy looking at the woman trying to not look menacing though this is coming from the guy who looks like a girl himself. Shadow could feel a migraine swelling up in his head and he was beginning to feel a bit nauseous the miasma was finally starting to get to him but he could hold up a tough front for a few more minutes. "Man, I feel like I am about to drop dead, how do you do it Mercy?" Shadow said in a jokingly tone.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Monica Crawford

Earnings

0.00 INK

Monica


She gave a hesitant wave to the greenhaired womand greeting. it had been a while since anyone had been able toget close enough to say hello to her. The young girl glanced at the woman from the corner of her eyes, taking a few cautious steps away from her as she drew closer. “What. Did I luck out on the boobytraps? Darn. Sorry to disappoint.” came the retort. Monica fliched at the womans words but didn't move, which was a good thing. If she had, she would have immersed herself in shadows.

This time, when Mercy went to tap her gasmask, Monica fliched, expecting some sort of supernatural attack, but it was just her answering her question from before. “I guess you could say I'm like you, immune to whatever is getting everyone here sick.” An extreme look of guilt fell over her features, and as if on cue, the air around them became heavier, where the little light that was in the warehouse began to dampen. "It's my fault." Before Monica was able to continue, not that it could be expected that she would, a young man, around her age walked over in a jokingly manner, "Man, I feel like I am about to drop dead, how do you do it Mercy?"

"Please! Don't get any closer to me." Came the squek of urgency. She could see that the young man was having difficulty standing upright and she had no desire to be responsible for yet another death. From the way he spoke she found out the womans name was Mercy. But will she show mercy towards her? Balling up the little courage she had, Monica stepped away from the shadows completely. Bringing her hands up, her voice resounded within the warehouse as she spoke. " Please! Just leave me alone! I don't want to be responsible for your deaths too!" The small girl sounded desperate and was convinced that they were going to die very soon, even if she couldn't sense their oncoming deaths at the moment.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Monica Crawford

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Byte
Image

As the otherkind began to speak, presumably feeling some kind of kinship with the veteran Wicked, Mercy could feel the air dampening... becoming heavy with a mystical force, a vile force that seemed to have the intend to kill if it was commanded to.

So she was the cause of this epidemic...

Mercy could familiarize with how the young girl felt, she too, after all, has had to deal with the constant miasma of death surrounding her that overtook anyone who dared to come close. However before she could say any more, Shadow, in all his flamboyant glory, barged into the warehouse without considering the dangers of what lurked inside – Immediately destroying what little trust Mercy had managed to gain.

The girl was, predictably enough, alarmed at the young man's presence, swiftly inching back into the comforts of the shadows behind her, before jumping out in an attempt to warn the duo to not get too close. Mercy's expression turned to gloom. There was the odd feeling that she wanted to simply give this girl a hug and tell her everything would be all right.

You poor little thing...

“You should probably do as she says.” Mercy urged to Shadow, noting the weary expression on the young man's face. It seems he wasn't completely immune to the pollution, or whatever it was, in the air.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Monica Crawford

Earnings

0.00 INK

Shadow Loveheart


They exchanged words for another few minutes and Shadow was right he was nearing his limit of being withing his miasma he felt a flew blown head ache and it wouldn't surprise him if he threw up then and there, his body was also aching he could hold out for a maximum of two more minutes at most if the conditions haven't had worsened which they did. Though the Other seamed concerned for our well being Shadow looked at her, she didn't seam like a threat to a butterfly but it was true that this miasma of death was coming from her... Maybe she can't control her power that well like Shadow, but then again this could also be a farce to make us lower our guard, he didn't know which it was though. Shadow wanted to believe she was harmless and had no control over her powers like him but he would have to leave the judgement to his superior....

Then Shadow was told by Mercy to leave, "I get the distinct feeling you don't like me, but I can dig that." he joked in his head but it was true the Veteran Wicked could see through his tough front, then an idea popped into the rookies head, it was a miasma so that equals it's a smoke or mist which usually means it can be blown away with simple air which was Shadows forte, he was a bit cautious because he didn't want to give away his abilities to the other Wickeds or the Other in front of him just yet. He made the air kick up a notch and hit the warehouse like a semi-strong breeze, it passes through the warehouse inconspicuously blowing some dirt and papers here and there but the miasma was not affected in the least; he made it seam like the air just suddenly picked up for a while and then let it die, "What a strange breeze... Shadow said to himself then thought, "Well that didn't work... at all..... It's not smoke or mist then? What is it?! Urgh I'm at my limit better listen to what they said and get away....

"I can hold out for a while longer, but seeing as you're worried for me I'll go." Shadow joked towards Mercy, then turned to head back to the entrance placing his hands in his pockets, "Be careful..." Shadow then said to her in a more serious tone though saying this to a Veteran Wicked could be taken as an insult but Shadow was genuinely worried for his superior, she is still a woman after all but this was Shadows own personal "quirk" one could say kicking in; on another note he was also worried for the Other as well since she was also a girl and seamed too innocent for it to be fake. He walked out of the warehouse in a faster than normal walk and proceeded to get a bit farther away from the complex and the miasma. He went to the alley entrance and sat on the ground near the wall, "Urgh! This feels horrible." he said and took deep breaths as he could feel getting better bit by bit. "I hope their okay though..." Shadow thought, keeping his senses pealed in case something happened inside or around the warehouse that would make him have to act, but currently he was more concentrated on regaining his health seeing that probably a few years were shaved off his life span a few minutes ago.....

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Timothy Jeromeo Character Portrait: Sia Kagome

Earnings

0.00 INK


Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Monica Crawford

Earnings

0.00 INK

Monica


Monica fiddled with the ends of her hair, she truly was tempted to just jump back into the shadows and disappear completely. Just like how she has done so so many times before. The young woman was quite relieved to see that the boy had left, but then she remember the other one from a few days ago. “Ah um . . . there was a boy here from a few days ago, if he’s with you please take him away.” Monica’s voice then dropped to barely a whisper, ‘If he’s still alive.” The boy from before really shouldn’t be alive anymore, it’s been a while since he collapsed a few days ago. Hopefully another death wasn’t added to the list of reasons she shouldn’t go to heaven.

Finally turning her attention to the green haired female before her, Monica thought of various ways she might be able to get rid of her. I could . . . no I can’t that won’t work. She looked down at the ground ashamed of the thoughts rolling around in her head. It wasn’t like she wasn’t asking for them to leave her alone, she really did want a friend but she didn’t want to kill them in the process. With a heavy sigh, Monica looked to the side and frowned as she took a few hesitant steps back. “Are you going to leave too? I suggest that you do before my miasma ends up killing you.”

They both knew to some extent that Mercy wouldn’t die from the nether energy. If the Wicked listened closely enough she would have noticed that the tone in Monica’s voice was almost pleading. Not to have her really leave but to stay. Monica began to twirl the tips of her hair again, barely risking a glance in the older woman's direction.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Monica Crawford

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Byte
Image

Think... Fast...

For all it was worth, Mercy tried, to the best of her ability no less, to figure out a way this girl could stop producing unwilling victims, however neither option seemed to fly. As much as she wanted to, there was no chance she could bring her back to the Wicked Ones base of operations. Too many risks involved, and from simple deduction this ominous death cloud was far, faaar different from her own toxic abilities in a sense that this "death aura" couldn't be smothered by putting on a ridiculous garb and a gasmask.

But to leave such a young child to her own whims was just as unthinkable...

Mercy snapped out of her thought train when the other began to speak again, presumably feeling a lot less endangered with Shadow out of the picture.

Upon the otherkind's word, Mercy leaned to the side to try and catch a glimpse of this... boy, she spoke of, but could only make out a bleak and unconscious silhouette amidst the rubble. “He was not with us... But I will let my colleagues know someone here might need medical attention. They'll be able to take care of him.” Mercy seemed to respond with a certain confidence in her voice.

Despite that easily taken care of, she still wasn't sure about the situation with her target. The tone in her voice seemed to contradict her vocal wishes, like she didn't want Mercy to leave, but to stay. With a comforting smile hiding behind her mask, the green-haired woman dared to take another step to close the gap between her and the Other, her muffled voice echoing throughout the ruined building. “I can't leave you here all alone, can I? That would be irresponsible. I'm here to help you-” She quickly added to her words. “Because I want to help you.” She stopped, holding out her hand in a suggestive signal to urge the girl to come closer.

“Now, why don't you tell me your name. Mine is Mercy, nice to meet you. What would you say if we left this place together?” It was a start. A small one, but a start nonetheless. If she could gain a bit more trust, perhaps then she could persuade the girl to come with her to a much safer place for her where she wouldn't be able to hurt the innocent. She wasn't willing to give up on this poor girl just yet...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart

Earnings

0.00 INK

Shadow Loveheart


Still feeling the effects of the miasma Shadow kept his distance from the deathtrap that was the warehouse, "Those two girls are amazing able to withstand that..." Shadow thought to himself. He was feeling just a bit better his lightheadedness fading ever so slowly he kept breathing the relatively fresh air with calm while still looking around for anything out of the ordinary. There was still rot and decay around the area which made it mildly unpleasant for Shadow, but it was better than inside the warehouse to a certain point.
Shadow then undid the zipper of his straight jacket and rolled up the sleeve to his right hand seeing a blot on his forearm in a grotesque darkened violet color, "I don't feel anything from here," Shadow said and touched it feeling an horrible stinging pain he flinched backing away his hand "Until I touch it that is.... The same with the left part of my chest..." Shadow added. His flesh was rotten even though it was the top part of his skin the pain is no joke and if he would've stayed anymore time in the warehouse eventually his muscles would have began to decay and ultimately he would've died "This is what I get for trying to show off..." Shadow said looking toward the sky seeing clouds here and there. Even with his enhanced physique it would take at least 12 hours to heal completely until then it will hinder him a bit.

After a few more minutes pass Shadow gets back up having regained a bit of his composure, he decided to keep a look out around the area as Mercy originally had said to him. He would wait until Mercy came back up something happened inside the warehouse that would cause Shadow to storm in...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Damioa
Without noticing it, Joe had fell asleep. It wasn't unexpected though. Usually, on matters much like this one, he would fall asleep just because of the silence and the fact that he probably used a days worth of energy doing something already.

With a few loose snoozes, he opened his eyes, realizing that he was slouched over the girl who seemed to take the current job more seriously than he had. A lot of things were foggy from when he first closed his eyes, but he happened to remember her saying something like, “Well I guess for now we just wait and see right?”

That was probably what did it for him. Joe hated waiting for things to happen. Time was way to short to way for everything. Still, he didn't mean to fall asleep on the little sniper, least it ruin her fun. He remembered that he was a heavy sleeper too. The thought made him wonder what would have happened if he fell on her and they would be trapped for days in this dark place. Surely his mind was over exaggerating looking at how the warehouse looked from the inside, but it was still eerie.

Joe made sure to lean in the opposite direction so that he wouldn't have fallen asleep on Mei again, even though once he layed his head on the ground he was suddenly uncomfortable. Looking at his watch, he estimated that they have been there at least an hour or so. Who knows? Heck, he didn't even know the time they arrived, but he was sure it wasn't long ago. With the discomfort he was feeling, he decided that a game might better be in order, so he took his index finger and focused energy on top of it, making a marble out of the matter. Sure it wasn't as hard as a marble, or as soft as cotton. The texture of it was indescribable, if he was asked by another. Not to mention, it also varied on how hard he wanted it to hit. Though, since he wasn't using it for combat, but instead using it to toss in the air, it wasn't dangerous.

"Hey Mei," he said tossing it into the air and catching it with his pinky. "Have you ever shot someone with that thing? You know it's dangerous right? Or are you carrying safety rounds. . . Matter fact, you don't have to answer that. If you tell me otherwise my cute little sister impression of you will change to just another one of those people with powers. Eh.... Forget I said that too. I'ma shut up now."

As talkative as he was, he was even more so when he was bored. Though he didn't think any of the others cared much for the things he said. Sure it could be one thing one day, but the next. Well it'd be a completely different one. He tried to act the part of a good person and overall happy person, but he knew that his team mates knew who he really was. They knew the real him. He sometimes wondered if Mei knew too, or was she just too young at the time to remember.

It was a shame. He did feel as if he had a true family with the Wickeds, but something was missing. Maybe it was the sleep and lack of energy. It was making him depressed. Then again, it could also be that as long as he's around people he'll be reminded of his true self and his powers. The power. How sweet it is. Then again, it wasn't sweet at the same time. There was no one around to join him in his explosions. Then when he joined the team there was nothing he was allowed to explode. At least nothing fun. Maybe a building or a door here and there, but he wanted to take out the really big stuff.

On the other hand, maybe that's not what he currently wants. He thought long and hard about it. Somehow, the word fireworks crept its way into his thoughts. "Yeah that sounds about right. You might want to cover your aiming eye Mei."

The memory of their current mission stopped him from making a big works display, but he did make the small energy ball pop like one work of art. He was even able to slow it down so that it wouldn't make much noise.

"Beautiful."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Huey St. Portus Character Portrait: Gemma Morrow

Earnings

0.00 INK

When you've spent the majority of your life on the street, huddled with random strangers under the warm muffler of a parked truck with the hope of belaying, but for a moment, the steely frost of winter's night, you begin to acquire a certain sense about the world. A special sort of intuition, owned by the few and honed by years of paying dearly for one's mistakes. For instance, that intuition was currently warning him: the season was shifting. Though most were currently basking in the radiance of cloudless skies and greenery flush and full of life, thoughts of a cold harsh winter as far afrom their minds as ancient history, Huey could feel it in his very bones. Perhaps it was the shallow howling of the trees or maybe the brisk pace at which the wind whipped about, but it was definitely getting colder outside. Soon, the days would grow ever shorter, the nights longer and more frigid. The boy looked down at himself as he walked, making a face. Dirty scrawny arms, tattered shirt, and a pair of shorts. At the very least, he'd have to acquire for himself a jacket and soon. It's no fun being homeless and cold.

He'd made that mistake before.

It was his intuition more than anything else that guided him in all things. It drove him. Defined him. It allowed him to know where not to be. Who not to steal from. When to run and not hide, or hide and not run. When all else failed, he always came back to that gut instinct, that solid insight into how the world really worked. Always... and it had yet to go wrong for him. His continued existence was proof.

And that's what so unnerved him now.

He was an excellent judge of people, or at least he considered himself so. It was one of the many perks of his intuition. Inevitably, the moment occurs in any situation with a stranger where you find yourself asking: is this someone I should trust? Over the years, he'd bet his life on the answer to that question. More than once. Yet, even after spending a full two weeks as Neer's lackey, his intuition floundered to deliver a concrete answer. He simply felt nothing from her. Absolutely nothing. He couldn't tell if she was a threat and he should have his defenses up or if she was cool and he was just being paranoid. It was like trying to gauge the emotional consistency of a television.

Huey sighed, coming to a stop a few meters behind a gaggle of people. They were all overlooking a field of kids playing soccer, most of them around Huey's age. Some were cheering. It was a mini-game they held weekly. A bunch of neighborhood kids and their parents would come out and play each other just for fun. Huey knew this because he spent a lot of time at this particular park, especially during the the warm days.

Looking beyond the field to a series of old benches clear on the other side of the park, Huey spotted what looked like his current boss, Neer. She was right where she said she'd be.

Neer wore a loose-fitting one-piece over which she sported her trusty white lab coat, her lengthy silverish hair billowing out behind her in the wind. Huey squinted at her, shifting the plastic bag in his grasp. Even though Neer was merely sitting on an old rusty bench, one leg neatly folded over the other, she somehow gave off the look of a foreign dignitary perched high atop her throne. Her impenetrable black shades certainly didn't help the issue, either.

Yes. "Television" was an accurate simile. It described Neer perfectly. Whenever Huey conversed with her, she seemed to be playing back some set of pre-recorded responses, like he wasn't saying anything she wasn't already prepared for. He'd met girls like that before, but none so... so perfect at it as she was. It was downright distressing.

Huey turned away from the cheering strangers and began walking down a path that ran parallel to the playing field and Neer's current location, the thin plastic bag in his hands swinging to and fro.

Was she someone he should trust?

Huey took the long way around the park, circling around to Neer's position. When he made his way out of the shrubbery several minutes later, he was staring straight at the back of her head. If she noticed he'd appeared a few meters behind her, it didn't show.

Despite himself, a smirk touched Huey's lips.

He began to sneak across the expanse that separated him from the bench upon which she sat, one foot after the other, careful to avoid jostling the plastic bag in his grip and remain as silent as possible. It only took him a moment to get within arm's reach of the woman, and she had yet to react. Perhaps she didn't even know he was there.

Huey's smirk morphed into a full on grin as he reached out towards her. He wasn't sure why he wanted to scare her, but whatever. Maybe it'd make him feel better to know she didn't have all the answers—that something could actually surprise her. Or maybe—

"Thirty-six," Neer called out suddenly. Huey hesitated, then froze. She didn't speak loud enough for her voice to carry far, but she didn't speak soft enough for her words to go unheard.

Afterwards, both Neer and Huey remained quiet. The ambient melody of kids hard at play could be heard in the distance. For several seconds, it was the only sound on the air.

Again, Neer was first to speak. This time a little softer, as if addressing Huey directly. "Thirty-six breaths per minute." Neer turned her head, gazing over her shoulder, her posture still relaxed. She tapped her ear twice with her index finger. "It's what I heard. That's how fast you were breathing just now. Thirty-six breaths per minute." Her voice took on a certain quality, as if she were lecturing to a student. "Quite fast for your age. Makes you sound suspicious." She turned back to face the field. "If you're gonna sneak up on me, you'll have to do better than that."

Huey had to stop his jaw from hanging agape. "Seriously? You heard me breathing?"

Neer chuckled as Huey made his way around the bench. Surprisingly, it was a pleasant sound. Huey plopped down on the other side of the bench, as far away from her as possible. He set the plastic bag down between his feet and rummaged through its contents with both hands, like a pirate digging for treasure. From within the bag he pulled a handful of thick platinum tubes. He set them atop his lap gently, as if he were dealing with precious cargo.

"Do you have my change?" Neer asked.

"Nope," Huey responded simply, taking up one of the thick tube-like items into his hands. "Burrito guy said he doesn't give change." He began to peel back the silvery sleeve, revealing the tan-colored wrap of a stuffed burrito. Without wasting a second, he shoved it into his mouth like a feral animal, tearing off a massive chunk.

It was a moment until Neer spoke again. "When's the last time you washed yourself?"

Huey gave her a look, raised eyebrow and all. "Are you tryin' to be funny?"

"I didn't just hear you, Huey. I could smell you." She put emphasis on the word. "You should considered bathing regularly."

Huey considered her for a moment before tearing another chunk off his burrito. And then another. And another, disappearing the foodstuff entirely. He then grabbed a second burrito and began devouring it, too.

"You can't meet with the Wickeds smelling like you crawled out the sewer."

Huey swallowed hard, his gaze darting over to Neer before returning forward. "I'm not gonna get naked around you."

Neer chuckled. "Why? My lab has a shower. The shower has a door. I won't be there. Your logic does not follow."

Instead of answering, Huey focused on devouring the food before him. Seven burritos in total, and he'd just finished the fifth. He began unwrapping the sixth. "I've been a prisoner in your crazy lab forever now. There's cameras everywhere." He took a bite. "Knowing you, I bet they're in the bathroom, too."

"But that's beside the point, my dear Huey."

At that, Huey stood, catching the final unopened burrito in his free hand. Neer threw him a look full of curiosity, her eyebrows raised high past her shades as if to dare: come at me, then. He took a few steps closer to her and then plopped down again so that they were at most a foot apart. With him so close, the difference in their heights became stark. Without turning to look up at her, Huey raised his hand, offering Neer the final burrito.

"Ah, no thanks," she said. For the first time ever, she sounded... surprised?

Huey looked up at her. "What, you can't eat human food?"

"The majority of my upper digestive tract is intact, yes, but I know how important your calories are to you. I'll just refuel back at the lab. You eat it."

"Refuel?" Huey stared at her for a moment longer before shrugging. "Weirdo." Huey slowed his voracious consumption his own burrito to the point that he was only taking small bites. He was also chewing slowly, as if mulling something over in his head. After a few minutes, he spoke. "Sooo... why are we out here again?"

"I enjoy seeing people in their natural habitats." Neer replied, eyes focused on the soccer match that was wrapping up downfield.

Huey looked up at her again, squinting suspiciously. "Their what?"

"Habitats. Their natural environments. Plus, I try to take time outside the lab every now and then."

Huey opened his mouth as if to speak, but then closed it. He seemed to be gathering the courage to say something. That much was apparent. It was Neer who spoke first, though. Her eyes were still focused downfield. "Well?"

Again, Huey stood. "How about..." He pointed to Neer. "You. Finally take this stupid thing," he continued, point at the gunmetal-gray collar around his neck. "Off me? I won't try to run away or anything, I swear."

Neer's eyes were still to the field. "It was never to stop you from running away."

"Okay... then what is it for?"

It took her a second to respond. "It's—you—are helping me with a favor I owe."

"A... a favor? To who?! That's not fair—!"

Before Huey even finished his sentence, Neer had twisted the fabric of the boy's collar between the fingers of her cold mechanical hand, pulling him towards her. Huey could do nothing but flinch backwards, though he wasn't nearly fast enough to escape her range or strong enough to withstand her pull. In the next moment, they were face to face.

"Huey," Neer began, a stepford smile adorning her lips. "Do you trust me?"

And there it was. The question he'd been putting off for weeks. Ironically enough, it was her that was asking him. On the one hand, she was his best chance to meet the Wicked Ones... probably. She was his only lead. If he didn't manage to join the Wicked Ones soon, his old friends would be in big trouble.

On the other hand...

Well, on the other hand, she could be a complete liar, and that meant he was in imminent danger.

In the midst of searching for a response, Huey's gaze dropped off until his eyes met with the floor. Neer took that as her cue to continue. "Well," she began, bringing Huey even closer. Their faces were now mere millimeters apart. His breath caught in his chest, his face flushing red slightly. By this point, it was obvious that Neer was very fond of making him squirm. "I trust you, Huey. I trust you to be patient. If you can do that for me, we'll both eventually get what we want." She let go of his shirt. "Deal?"

Huey grimaced, pursing his lips. "Fine. Whatever." Shoulders slumped, he took a step backwards, defeated. "I'll just let you get back to..." He waved his hand about, motioning generally towards the people playing the soccer match in the distance. "Eyeing these people with ill intent."

Neer leaned back and barked out a laugh. It was somewhat startling. "If I were really the evil monster of your nightmares, Huey," she began, tilting her head to the side, her hair falling down around her eyes. Her sunglasses, jostled from their resting placed across the bridge of her nose, now rested a bit further down, revealing her piercing golden eyes like two miniature suns boring into the core of his being. "Wouldn't that be immediately obvious?"

Instead of answering, he turned his back to her. "I'll meet you at the park entrance when you're ready to go."

As Huey walked away, Neer noticed that he'd left something on the bench. It was one of his burritos—the one he'd offered her earlier. He must've left it for her. Neer stared at the cylindrical foodstuff for several moments before taking it in her hands and slowly unwrapping it. She then sniffed it once. Twice. Before taking a bite.

**


Neer's "lab" was really a one-bedroom studio apartment on the basement floor of an otherwise tenant-less building. It had a single entrance, and that was a staircase located in the back alley along the side of the building. Huey, shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets, was the first to round the corner and approach the staircase. He was walking a dozen or so paces in front of Neer, who was taking her merry time.

She guessed he was still mad about not getting the collar off. She let out a silent sigh, picking up her pace slightly.

"Neer!" Came a shout. It was Huey.

With mechanical assistance from her cybernetic leg, Neer blasted down the remainder of the sidewalk in a second, bending the corner and sliding to a halt beside Huey, sparks flying as the metal bottoms of her shoes contacted the swollen bits of asphalt that lined the alleyway.

"What?" She asked, her voice calm. They were standing atop the flight of stairs that lead down to the lab's entrance.

In response to her question, Huey pointed at the rusting silver door... and that's when Neer noticed.

The door was slightly ajar. The mechanical lock that kept the door in place had been melted, as if by acid.

Someone had broken into her lab.

Moving past Huey, Neer stormed down the concrete steps, her footfalls thundering like blows from Thor's hammer. If there were people in there, they definitely heard her. Not like she was trying to be quiet. Instead of storming in, however, she stopped at the door and placed her hand on the adjacent wall. A metal panel slid upwards, revealing a series of five ports. The tips of Neer's fingers seemed to slide back into themselves, like one of those collapsing monoculars. Without missing a beat, Neer clicked her fingers into the ports and, in the same moment, disengaged, her fingers returning to normal.

She turned. "Let's go."
"Uh, are you sure? We could just wait for the whoever it is out here, right?"
Neer responded with a sneer. "We don't have to. One of my traps caught them. Two of them."

And so it did. As Neer and Huey entered the lab, they immediately saw the would-be thieves—woefully incapacitated. They had several dozen metallic ropes going horizontally across their bodies, wrapping them from the neck down, rendering them unable to move. They looked like huge earthworms... or massive wrapped burritos. Huey snickered under his breath.

As Neer moved forward, Huey halted upon seeing the thwarted thieves' faces. He was visibly taken aback.

"They're just girls!" Huey said, matter-of-factly. This fact seemed to embolden him, since he ran up to secure a better view. "Wow."

And they were just girls. Two girls. Black hair. Blue eyes. Sisters, by the look of them. They were dressed in rags, so they were obviously slum kids looking to make a quick buck. Unfortunately, they chose the wrong house to try and rob.

"Good for them," Neer responded, walking up to stand beside Huey.

The girls gave Neer the stink eye, one of them growling softly.

"Hey, what's your name?" Huey asked the elder girl.

In response, the girl took her eyes off of Neer and focused on Huey. She frowned. Huey, curious, leaned in a little closer.

And that's when she attacked. Her lips curled away from her teeth into a semicircle and out from her mouth flew a wad of spit, aimed straight at Huey's face. For his part, Huey backed up immediately, but he wasn't fast enough to avoid whatever it was. Luckily, Neer reached out her hand with all the speed and accuracy of a machine. The spitwad collided with Neer's open palm instead of Huey's face, glomming onto the metal like putty.

And then it began to melt. Or, that's what it seemed like. Neer brought her hand to her face, analyzing the damage.

"What the hell was that?" Huey asked, his attention shifting between Neer and the girl that spit at him.

Neer didn't answer his question, choosing instead to address the thieves. "So," she said, bringing her hand down to her side. Apparently, the damage was minimal. "You two have gifts, huh girls?"

"Fuck you!" The elder girl responded, her tone harsh and unforgiving. The younger girl just stared. If looks could kill, Neer's face would be full of daggers right now.

Neer snorted, all of the warmth draining from her face, to be replaced with that creepy stepford smile. She walked over and grabbed each girl by the ropes—one per arm, hoisting them into the air. The two struggled to free themselves, but it was to no avail.

"Huey," Neer said, looking over her shoulder, the warmth returning to her voice. "Would you be a dear and open the bay door for me?"

The bay door was what Neer called the door to the studio's bedroom—which she had apparently turned into a makeshift "operating room". With a sort of morbid curiosity, Huey quickly made his way to the door, opening it and holding it open. Neer walked in past him, placing each of the two girls down upon one of the three steel slabs that constituted what Huey could only imagine were Neer's operating tables. The girls wriggled and struggled in place, but otherwise were unable to move.

The moment Huey opened the door, the harsh fluorescent lighting in the operating room buzzed to life. While the rest of the lab was painted in a sterilized hospital-room white, this room was painted jet black. The only window had been boarded up so as to not allow any external light in. It was his first time being allowed to see this room, yet he didn't actually follow Neer inside. He stood under the doorjamb, his feet refusing to carry him any further. It was that intuition of his again, screaming at him louder than ever before in his life. The message was clear:

Run. Run away from here. Now.

"Uh... what're you gonna do to them?" Huey asked, his voice little more than a whisper. Still, his words managed to reverberate throughout the small room.

On the far side of the room, under the boarded-up window, were four rows of drawers. Each row contained eight perfectly square cubbies with pull-out drawers in them about twice the size of a human hand. From top-left to bottom-right, they were numbered from 1 to 24. Neer walked over and opened two drawers: numbered 21 and 22. From within each she pulled a gunmetal-silver collar, not unlike his own. Neer turned then, slowly making her way back to the two girls. They just stared at her, their expressions now more fearful than aggressive.

As near approached the head of the operating tables, she snapped the collars around the girls' necks, one each.

"Neer?" Huey repeated, looking for an answer to his previous query. His voice shook, though he didn't intend for it to. Other questions had resurfaced in his mind at the sight of this new room. Huey knew that he wasn't the only kid Neer had ever collared.

So... where were the others?

"Huey," Neer muttered, finally turning her attention to him. She took off her sunglasses, stuffing them into her cleavage. Even though she was smiling, her voice had a steely edge to it. "I'm going to chop them into itty bitty pieces."

Silence.

"... S-seriously?" Huey muttered, an expression of horror slowly overcoming his face.

Suddenly, Neer chuckled, her voice regaining its previous warmth. "No, Huey. Of course not." From some unseen drawer, she took out some syringes. "I'm going to take a few samples, run some tests, and then let them be on their way, just like the others."

"Like you let me go?" Of course, he was being sarcastic.
"Well, Huey, you're special. None of the others actually wanted to join the Wickeds, so I let them go, get it? You said you wanted to join, remember? So I kept you around." A sliver of iron had returned to her tone. "If you've changed your mind, you're free to leave."

"No!" He replied immediately. "I want to join!"
"Good. Now..." Neer sniffed the air suggestively. "You really do smell. If you want to stay around, go take a shower."
"But—"
"Please. You're making it hard for me to function properly."

Huey bit his lower lip, throwing the two girls a concerned look before nodding once at Neer's request and stepping back from the threshold, allowing the operating room's door to close. Neer walked over to the door and pressed a yellow button next to the knob. The sound of a lock engaging could be heard, along with a small hissing noise. It only lasted for a moment.

"Good," Neer said, turning to the two foiled robbers. "I'm glad I added the soundproofing."

The two girls, collared, just stared at Neer, saying nothing as she walked back over to them.

"Did you know I can selectively disable any of my senses? Any one I want. Flick. Poof. Gone." As she spoke, Neer reached down to the girls' necks, depressing a small button on their collars. Though there were no physical indications, Neer knew that the collars had become operational. "Like smell. I don't have to smell things if I don't want to. Isn't that neat?"

It only took a few seconds for the younger of the two sisters to show a reaction. At first she started shaking her head from side to side. Then, without warning, she arched her back, her belly high above rest of her body, her arms and legs spazzing uncontrollably, still bound by the steel ropes. Her pupils dilated a moment later. Her chest heaved to and fro as she struggled for breath that wouldn't come. After a second, chalky white foam began to pour from her open mouth.

"What are you doing?!" The elder sister cried out, her tone harsh but her eyes full of fear.

Neer ignored her, instead reaching for a clipboard and pen. As the younger sister thrashed about on the operating table, she began taking notes.

"STOP!" The elder sister demanded, struggling against her bonds. It was futile.

"The first specimen—in accordance with my numbering scheme, I am dubbing her Subject 171—has just gone into cardiac arrest roughly 12 seconds after the activation of Prototype 21." Neer was scribbling so fast that she might as well have been scratching randomly on the paper. "From visual analysis of her vitals, it would seem to confirm that Prototype 21's ability dampening algorithm is indeed far too aggressive."

Suddenly, the younger sister became still.

"Hmm," Neer continued, narrating her scribbles. "At 2:08:11, Subject 171 expired. I am not sure of what her abilities were, and so am not able to analyze if they were properly dampened. However..." Neer's eyes swivelled, landing on the remaining sister. The girl was sobbing, calling out to her sister, still trying to break free from her bonds.

"The other specimen, whom I dub Subject 172, has not gone into cardiac arrest at the activation of Prototype 22. This is good." Neer walked over the girl, taking her steps without the slightest hint of hurry. Suddenly, she jammed her fingers into the girl's mouth, removing them in quick succession. At the same time, Neer raised her knee, balancing the clipboard on it, and began jotting down notes while staring at the hand she'd unceremoniously jabbed into the girl's mouth. There was blood on her fingers. "Subject 172's ability, which is something akin to her bodily fluids being corrosive to everything they come into contact with, is indeed being dampened. Based on visual analysis of her saliva, the dampening has been 99.866% successful, though more invasive tests will be run to confirm this."

For a while longer, Neer continued to jot down notes while the girl continued to sob. After a moment, Neer reached down onto the ground, pulling a small black wire out of a socket in the floor and connecting it to a port that opened in the back of her neck. Plugging it in, she stood.

"All of this is good news for both of us, 172," Neer chuckled, her voice full of warmth. "The Prototype 14 had a 48% mortality rate within the first sixty seconds of activation. By 20, I cut that down to 19% in the first twenty seconds. If you're any indicator, the 22 brings that down to 4%. And the 23..."

Thanks to her interfacing with her laboratory using the black wire, Neer now had access to every device attached to her lab network. In her mind's eye, she pulled up surveillance footage. It showed her the lab bathroom. It showed her Huey, arms crossed, standing under the shower head, being drenched in water. Neer smirked.

"Well, I think I might've eliminated the sudden mortality with version 23," she muttered. She was mostly talking to herself now. "But we'll see, won't we, Huey?" In the surveillance footage, the gunmetal-gray collar around Huey's neck almost seemed to glitter as the water washed over it. "My adorable little 170."

"Please," the remaining girl on the table begged, blood trickling down the side of her face. She was no longer struggling. "Please... let me go..."

Neer turned away from her, instead approaching the table where the corpse of the younger sister lay, unmoving. "Ah, right. Sorry, love. I'm on a schedule, see? And the deadline is rapidly approaching." With a slight push, Neer began wheeling the table over towards the opposite side of the room, stopping about halfway between the other tables and the rows of drawers on the far side under the boarded-up window. On the adjacent wall was a large stainless steel door, complete with a huge handle. It looked like the door to a huge refrigerator. "And here I was, thinking I'd have to bring in a few extra stragglers. Again. I hate that. But low and behold, the universe grants me this excellent gift. A twofer, gift wrapped no less!" As she spoke, Neer pulled open the door. On the other side there was... nothing. Just blackness. Neer moved the operating table so that it was perpendicular to the hole in the wall and then lifted the end closest to her, forming an acute angle with the blackness on the other side. The corpse slid down the makeshift ramp and into the hole, disappearing forever. At first, there was no sound, but after a few seconds there was an audible plunk! as the corpse hit the bottom.

"I have to deliver a clean Prototype 24, and it's very very close to being done," Neer continued, wheeling the table back to rest beside the remaining girl, who by now was absolutely hysterical. Ignoring her antics, Neer reached into the same drawer she drew the syringe out of earlier, except this time she didn't pull out a syringe. It was a scalpel. "I just need a teensy bit more data before I can fab it, okay?" Neer moved to stand atop the struggling girl, the harsh fluorescent lights flickering every now and then, at times bathing the entire room in darkness. Even in the darkness, Neer's eyes seemed to glow with a supernatural sheen that was quickly morphing into a crimson glare. "My dear Huey is doing his part, and now it's your turn. You don't want to be the selfish one, right?" The girl didn't respond, she just stared, her eyes round and bulging. Neer raised her scalpel. "I'll take that as a yes. But don't worry!" She smiled warmly down at the girl, the sincerity of her expression reaching as far as her eyes, which were by now completely crimson in color. "I'll put you all back together again."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Monica Crawford

Earnings

0.00 INK

Monica


The woman sounded confident, unlike herself and for the briefest of moments Monica felt jealous but the feeling was quickly snuffed out by the usual demeaning thought. Noticing the step forwards by the green haired woman, Monica took two steps back hugging the column with her arm. “Please just stay back.” The woman’s next words came were words Monica had thought she’d never hear, but they were also words she did not deserve. “To help me? I don’t deserve anyone’s help, too many people have died because of this . . . this power of mine. Why would you want to help?” Monica seemed confused, extremely confused and a bit upset.

No one had ever wanted to help her, then again those who did often got too close and died despite her telling them not to. Monica squinted at the hand that was offered to her. This hand would either save her or condemn her that much she knew. It would also mean a chance to have a friend and it seemed like all was going well but Monica knew those moments never lasted ling when she was around.

Mercy was name, a befitting one considering the situation and Monica’s past. Swallowing her discomfort, Monica looked up at Mercy a miserable look in her eyes. The moment she looked up however, Monica looked away and then cleared her throat. “Ah no one has ever bothered to know my name before. Oh right I guess I should give it to you then. . . .” There was a brief moment of silence on her end while her hand went to her mouth. Moving it away, it revealed a small smile. “My name’s Monica. Are your colleagues near here?” showing some curiosity.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Monica Crawford

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Byte
Image

Amidst the depressive smog was a light, all she needed was a hand to guide her safely across the path. Perhaps Mercy would be given that honour after all. She would be grateful to. For a moment it was as if the Wick glared through a reflection, a glimpse of the past. She too had been this frightened to hurt anyone, she too had been wilfully cowering; hugging something for comfort because she wasn't used to being treated like a person, an actual human being. It was a strange phenomena, a rare trait that she treasured seeing in more people since so many of them were content to put masks over their kindness like it was supposed to have never existed. Like it was taboo to care.

Yes, it only made sense that she took after the only person ever willing to take her under his wing.

“Of course you deserve to be helped.” She spoke with a re-collective smile, repeating words that were her saving grace from falling into uncertain despair. “You think you're not worth saving, don't you? You believe every word they've said. That you're a freak, an abomination, no longer human.” Hate fell over her last syllables, like a hot drink spilling across a table. “But that's not true, is it? You still feel... Hell, you still care enough not to want to hurt anybody, doesn't that proof you are worth saving?” It almost sounded as if she pleaded for something.

Feeling as though she had trailed off, Mercy expectantly waited for the girl to answer. It had gone somewhat quiet that only broke momentarily from the wheezing wind running through the old shack.

Monica...

Mercy whispered the name once, twice, thrice. “That's a lovely name.” The woman commented with sincerity, before casting another brief moment of silence over the pair, thinking on how to respond to her question.

“They're-”

Bonk!

“You-”

Another muffled bang interrupted the conversation, louder this time. Was it Shadow? No, he didn't seem too keen on getting back in. Then, what-

With a loud crash in the far corner of the building, the two mutants were met with a menacing growl as the intruder unveiled himself from the corner, baring fang and claw in a manner that made it clear he wasn't here to talk. His mutilated body made it appear more monster than man. Blots and bulges covered its exposed skin like acne

“Shit. Run!” She cursed, making a mental note to kick her Partner's ass for doing a bang-up job keeping watch. Her hands reached for a pipe, a board, anything that would do the trick into beating this thing into submission. All she managed to grab, however, was little more than a broken bit of metal.

As the creature leaped, Mercy side-stepped and delivered a clumsy strike into its abdomen. Merely ripping the fabric of the hoodie it was wearing. “I said go! Get somewhere safe, I'll come get you after I've handled this.” Was all Mercy managed to shout at Monica in a hurry, before she resumed her struggle with the other mutant.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny Character Portrait: Mal Larson

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by duramon
Mal


Another day, another stakeout. Mal was reclined on a building across the way, observing the movements of his newest group of observables from The Wicked Ones, absent-mindedly scoring a small wolf's head into the wall with his blades as he watched and waited. He'd expected a fight when he overheard talk of an otherkind but so far there'd been nothing but talking, the one called Shadow had even vacated the room with the Other due to her Miasma and another of The Wicked's had proverbially fallen asleep at the wheel while on their own stakeout.

Another day, another uneventful stakeout, that is until Mal caught movement in the corner of his vision, he paid his dues to the trick of the lighting which was awful, but then he saw something grotesque clamber its way up and smash through into the building near the Miasma girl and Mercy of the gasmask clan. Maybe today wasn't just another day, maybe he could finally stop staking out like so many sad men and do something, and so with a leap and a tumble he was sprinting for the abandoned building.

"Shit. Run!"Rang out from the Veteran Wicked and suddenly his legs were in overdrive, and before he could formulate a plan he was leaping through a window in a hail of shimmering glass, his hood drawn up and his skull-mask firmly planted on his face as his boot similarly planted itself on the monstrosity that had oh so abruptly charged in, sending it skidding to one side. "Damn I make good entrances, you wanna dance ugly?" He taunted, bringing his hands up in a boxing style "Let's dance motherfucker." His voice was low, befitting a veteran fighter with a smooth streak, a streak Mal had yet to begin but one he was sure was coming, he was just a late bloomer.

Mal darted in without so much as a glance to Mercy or a buckled-knee from his leap and Miasma-covered entrance, he danced to his own tune and unless this thing could play White Rabbit he was crap outta luck. He met the fanged mutant with a series of quick jabs and low dodges, dancing out of it's reach before darting in with a full-forced swing to the mid-riff, a knuckleblade glinting from what little light permeated the room. For his trouble he felt a claw puncture his abdomen and hit something important, without a word smashing both his blades down either side in an attempt to slice it's arm in two, his blades sunk in deep before he kicked it as hard as he could and sent it sliding back across the room, blood colouring parts of his black clothing before abruptly stopping as he moved back to Mercy.

"So...should I call your friends in that building or just punch big ugly again? Wait, better idea!" He said, turning to Mercy with a somewhat playful tone despite the situation, bracing himself for a charge from the beast before side-stepping and outstretching his arm, clotheslining the thing with as much force as he could muster to put it into the ground, quickly grabbing it's uninjured arm to (with no small amount of effort) put it out the broken window and outside the warehouse.

"It's a good thing I'm a mutant or I'd be dead huh?...." He mused as he clambered out of the mess of a window, spotting Shadow across the way having distanced himself from the Miasma "Hey, Buddy! I've been pretty lucky so far but I think the element of surprise has worn off, care to give me a hand before I die?" He yelled to The Wicked, relaxing as much as he could into a boxing style.

"Another boring stakeout my ass.."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Huey St. Portus Character Portrait: Gemma Morrow

Earnings

0.00 INK

No one looked twice when the woman in black entered a cozy little cafe on the corner. She swaggered through the simple glass double doors like a whisper, her opaque aviators revealing nothing more than a distorted reflection of the world around her. The woman gave the place a once-over, frowning slightly as she scanned the various patrons sitting about. The place had more windows than walls, like most of the establishments in the area. When her gaze neared an assortment of booths at the right corner of the room, the woman did a slight double-take. At the booth closest to the kitchen exit sat a particularly tall lanky figure. Due to the positioning of the booth, the woman could only stare at the back of the figure's head. Oddly pale white hair was the only thing about the figure that was readily visible above the booth's cushioned seat tops.

A grin touched the woman's lips. Immediately, she resumed her confident gait, making her way towards the end of the room. When she reached the booth, she stepped into the seat opposite the figure. She didn't wait for an invitation, electing to speak first.

"How's it going, Gemma?"
Gemma pursed her lips. "Stein. You're late."

"Couldn't be helped," She replied nonchalantly, removing her aviators as she did. She folded them neatly into one of her many coat pockets. Her eyes were a deep shade of blue, like the sky. Her gaze itself was piercing, maybe even intimidating. "Operational hazards and all that."

Gemma sighed but didn't go on. She seemed to be waiting on some cue from the other woman before continuing. After staring at Gemma for several seconds, Stein's gaze drifted to the only other person at the table. He was some kid no older than fifteen, his hair wild and untamed. Something about him struck Stein as odd. He was slumped over the table, resting his chin on top of his hands. He could barely hold his eyes open, and deep black bags underlined them. His face was pasty and wan, with beads of sweat dotting his forehead.

Stein's frown returned. "Should I even ask why you have a kid with you?"
Gemma shot a glance at Huey, who sat idly in the booth's inner seat. "No, no you shouldn't."
Stein pressed on anyway, her earlier question rhetorical. "Don't tell me it's... yours."

Gemma threw Stein a condescending look.

She responded by bringing her face to her palm and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Well, for fuck's sake, Gemma, I've seen his face." She looked Gemma in the eyes. "Don't tell me you're gonna—"

"No," Gemma interrupted, holding out her finger in admonition. "The experimentation phase has come to an end. Huey and I have simply come to terms. Isn't that right, Huey?" Gemma put an arm around Huey and pulled him in closer.

"Cut it out, Neer," he muttered. Initially he seemed to resist, but he was too weak to actually stop her.
"See?" Gemma continued. "He's my proof of concept."
Stein seemed to perk up at those words. "You mean he has it?"
"He's wearing it." She responded, tapping the grey ring around Huey's neck. "The collar."

Up until this point, Stein had only eyed Huey as an afterthought, like some tacky wall ornament. Now, however, he had her full and undivided attention, which was even worse. He wilted under the totality of her fierce gaze, shrinking back a bit. Suddenly, an odd expression ran across her face. "Wait, is he one of those freaks?" It took her another second to add "no offense".

Gemma sighed. She definitely meant to offend.

"Well... is the collar doing the thing?"
Gemma's lips curved slightly, the beginnings of a smirk. "Yes. It is doing the thing."
"What's its power?" Stein was referring to Huey.

Gemma shot yet another glance in Huey's direction. "Let's just say my Huey here could toss you across town if he felt like it." Her words came out like a thinly-veiled threat, but Stein was not perturbed.

"A muscle-head freak, eh? And you've got it under your control? Nice. My employer is always looking for more talent. Are you selling?"

Instead of answering, Gemma reached down to her side, revealing a small silverish suitcase. Placing it on the table, she popped the lid. Resting inside was another collar nearly identical to the one Huey currently wore, though it was colored jet black instead of gunmetal gray. Gemma presented the suitcase for Stein to inspect, spinning it to face in the other woman's direction and pushing it forward all in one smooth motion.

Stein was practically salivating at the sight of the black collar. "This is it?"
"Yes."

Without warning, a waiter approached their booth, a default grin plastered on his face. "How ya'll doin'? Can I get you guys anything?"

Before he'd even finished speaking, Stein made a shooing motion her open hand, refusing to look away from the black collar. "Go away."

"Actually," Gemma started, "could you get my friend here some water please? He's not feeling too well."
The waiter nodded curtly before moving away.

Stein tore herself away from staring at the black collar to give Huey a proper once-over. He did look pretty sickly. Even had a faint black ring around his neck, like a bad tattoo. "He does look a little green around the eyes," she commented, her tone inflecting as if it were a question.

Gemma understood her point. "A glitch. It's fixed in this latest build."
Stein grunted, nodding more to herself than to Gemma. "And who's the second collar for?" She pointed to the second identical suitcase that sat untouched next to Gemma's feet. "Friends of yours?"

Gemma's tone grew a shade or two darker. "You got what you wanted, Stein. The only thing you and your CIA killers should be concerned with now is paying me my money."

"About that." Stein stood, reaching her full height. "You've done some great work for my employer over the years, Gem. And you have to understand: we're mighty appreciative." She reached into her coat pocket, placing her aviators back on her face, hiding her eyes. "If it were up to me, I would've let you walk." Gemma's expression morphed into a full-on grimace. The change in atmosphere between the two women was not lost on Huey, whose gaze oscillated back and forth between them.

Gemma's next words came out as barely more than a whisper. "Is this the part where you betray me? Again? Just like Chicago?"

Stein responded by pulling a pistol from her side pocket and aiming it at Gemma's face. "We're aware of the freak shows you have dealings with, Gemma, and we can usually overlook them. But. There's this one in particular." Stein raised her chin slightly, the light catching on her glasses. "The Wicked Ones. That's who the other collar is for, right?" Gemma remained silent. "Yeah, that's what we thought." With her her free hand, Stein pressed the lid of the suitcase closed. Careful to keep her gun levelled at Neer's face, she leaned over and picked up the second suitcase, too, stacking it atop the first. "Can't let it happen. You don't want your greatest achievement falling into the wrong hands, do you?"

"I'm pretty sure it already has."
"Oh, Gem." Stein placed her index finger on the trigger. "Don't be like that."

Suddenly, a shrill cry tore through the cafe. Stein looked over towards the source of the racket. Seemed another patron noticed Stein and her gun, and wasn't all that happy about it. With much ado, people began jumping from their seats and heading for the exits.

"Nobody move!" Stein commanded, her voice washing over the entire cafe. "I'm with the government! The good guys!" To corroborate her statement, she used her free hand to pull a badge. "Official freak business—ooff!" The table in front of Stein collided with her hips, pushing her backwards slightly. Returning her attention to Gemma, Stein's eyes widened in surprise. Huey was standing between Gemma and the barrel of her gun, which was currently pointed at his forehead.

"Don't hurt her." His voice was low, his tone icy. The resolve in his eyes was absolute. It left no room for debate.

"Huey?" Gemma began, unable to conceal the bafflement in her voice. Such an illogical maneuver on his part took her completely by surprise.

Stein leaned back and barked a laugh. "And the battered pet protects its abusive master!"
"I'm not a pet, and I'm not protecting her." He replied immediately.
"Pfft. She's just using you, dumbass. I've known her since she was a kid. She runs through people like used napkins. You're gonna die for that?"

Huey refused to back down, instead screwing his eyes shut. He knew he was powerless to stop a bullet in his current state. Still, over and over, a single thought kept rebounding throughout his mind: I must join the Wicked Ones. I must join the Wicked Ones! And Neer—Gemma was still his only hope. If she died here, he'd be lost forever.

Stein regarded Huey with obvious disdain, shrugging. "Whatever".

And then she pulled the trigger.

Which is exactly what Gemma had been waiting for. With machine-like precision, Gemma kicked the edge of the table, causing it to smash into Stein's hand, causing her to shoot at the ceiling instead of Huey's head. With lightning speed, Gemma made a grab for one of the suitcases, snatching it out of the air with her left hand while grabbing Huey by the collar with the right. By the time Stein readjusted her aim, Gemma and Huey were already bounding towards the exit.

Stein stepped out from behind the booth, the other suitcase secure underfoot. She took aim at the duo and fired off several shots in quick succession. Her first few shots missed, with the other rounds hitting an unlucky bystander.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Stein muttered, exasperated. She pressed her index and middle fingers to her ear. "Take her now!"

Huey saw it before he heard it. One moment he was running aside Neer and in the next, her body just exploded. Pieces of meat and metal flew every which direction. Huey came to a screeching halt as Gemma lost her balance and fell forward, the faint report of a sniper's rifle reaching his ears. He had but an instant to survey the damage. Neer's entire right arm had been separated from her body. Her shoulder was a jagged mess of skin and steel. Liquid the color of oil leaked from her horrid wound.

Was that blood?

Huey panicked. No way anyone could survive an injury like that! All he could think to do was kneel down and place his hands over the wound in an attempt to stem the tide.

That's when a mind-numbingly sharp pain tore its way through his right shoulder like a fire iron. He barely registered the sound of the pistol firing behind him. Reflexively, he began to turn his body towards his attacker, but Stein gave no quarter. Firing off two more shots, one grazed Huey's cheek and the other lodged itself into his abdomen. The shock from the rapid assault caused Huey to stumble backwards and fall out flat, back to the ground. Almost immediately, inky black tendrils licked at the edges of his vision, threatening his consciousness. Blood began to pool on the ground around his shoulder and waist.

While Huey was being shot at, Gemma took the opportunity to get her feet under her body and blast forward, all in the same motion. The sniper that'd set its sights on her fired again, though only hit wood as she slid across the counter separating the kitchen from the rest of the establishment and landed on the other side. Without hesitation, she placed her back flush against the protective obstacle.

"Don't run, Gemma!" Stein said, her voice conversational amidst all the patrons cowering under their tables. "You won't escape. Not us. Not here. Not this time."

Gemma remained silent.

Stein sneered. This was the part she liked the most. Casually, she made her way over to where Huey lay, wheezing, on the ground. If you didn't know any better, you'd think she was taking a stroll through the park. When she reached Huey, she looked down at him, his body, slowly bleeding out.

And then she stepped on him. His belly, specifically, where her bullet had pierced him. It had the effect she'd intended, for Huey cried out in pure agony.

"Gemma! I know you're there!" She said, speaking over Huey's screams. "You're smart, girl. You could have escaped through the kitchen and out the back exit by now, but you haven't. Why?" She stopped applying pressure to Huey's wound, allowing him to merely whimper, hands clutching at his belly. "Is it because you think you can save your pet's life?" Stein shook her head in mock disappointment, dropping her gun's magazine and reloading all within the space of a few breaths. "That's real out of character for you, Gem. Caring, I mean."

Silence.

Stein's sneer deepened. "How about this. Come out, hands up, case with the collar in it on the floor," she began, her tone still irritatingly conversational and matter-of-fact, "or I shoot him in the head."

More silence.

"Now, Gemma." Stein raised her foot, preparing to step on Huey once again, but the unmistakable echo of a door slamming shut gave her pause.

"Gemma? That you?!"

Silence.

An expression of shock registered on Stein's face, but it was quickly replaced with one of admiration. She put her foot back down on the ground, looking over the counter and into the kitchen where Gemma had just made her escape, abandoning Huey. "... Well, shit." Stein looked down at the kid, who was staring right back up at her, his countenance one of defiance. "Guess we weren't expecting that one, huh?"

And then she shot him in the head.

The cafe's back exit lead straight into an alley, which is where Gemma currently stood, clutching the suitcase that housed her work for dear life. If the loss of her right arm phased her at all, it didn't show one bit. Unfortunately for her, the alley was a dead end, and the only exit was being blocked by a heavily armed group of people, guns drawn. Gemma recognized their uniforms. They were a special operations team. A hit squad.

And they were here for her.

Internally, she kicked herself for falling right into Stein's simple little trap. She shouldn't have waited so long before making her escape. All of her genius and logic came together in an unequivocal cacophony to tell her one simple thing: she was out of options here. She could rush them, but they were ready for her. They'd take her out. She could try to flee, but they'd finish her before she made it up the side of a building. They had her dead to rights.

Gemma turned back towards the door, thinking that she'd have a better chance against Stein than her entire squad, but before she reached the door it opened, and out walked Stein, gun in hand. Gemma froze mid-step.

"Wow, Gemma. The way you used that kid as a distraction for your own failed escape. That was pretty dope, as you youngins say." She could only stare as Stein pulled the slide back on her handgun, perhaps checking to see if a bullet was chambered or to discharge a jammed shell. When she was satisfied, she released it. Her weapon reengaged with a deafening click. "You really are a heartless bitch." She aimed her weapon at Gemma's head, her finger on the trigger. Stein was a big fan of headshots. "But that's why I like you."

BANG!

All at once, the wall behind Stein exploded as if it'd been hit by a truck. Bricks and chunks of mortar rained down on the alley and its occupants. For her part, Stein swivelled on her heels to meet this new threat. Standing amidst what remained of the cafe's back wall was none other than Huey, face bruised, holding his belly like a bowl of candy liable to spill.

Without further hesitation, Stein began firing at Huey with reckless abandon. After a moment, her team followed suit. Like a beachgoer avoiding the sunlight, Huey shielded his eyes with his forearm, his other hand still cupping his belly, as he was besieged with bullets. It was immediately obvious that the slugs weren't phasing him. In fact, they seemed to be gathering around him like snowflakes, piling along the ground at his feet.

Seconds later, Stein's gun clicked. Her magazine had run out of bullets. Her compatriots had also run dry. Huey's unexpected entrance made them careless. They all began to reload at the same time.

That's when he made his move.

Running like an athlete with a broken leg, Huey bumped into the hitman closest to him. Normally such a collision would have resulted in someone of Huey's inferior size and weight falling on their butt, but the exact opposite occurred. The hitman flew backwards, smashing into his compatriots and sending them all to pile up painfully against the alley wall. Keeping with his own haggard momentum, Huey turned on Stein, who hadn't yet finished reloading her weapon.

"You monster," Stein hissed, slamming a new magazine into her pistol. "You fucking monsters make me sick." But before she could fire off another shot, Huey rammed her too, bowling her over entirely. With Stein floored, Huey turned and staggered over to where Gemma stood. She looked down at him, an unfamiliar expression adorning her face. He returned her look with one of his own, wrapping his free arm around her waist.

"Hold on Neer," he muttered, bending his knees slightly. At the same time, Stein came to her feet, gun in hand.

"Hey!" She shouted, aiming her weapon, but before she could fire off a single shot, Huey and Gemma rocketed into the air, easily clearing several stories, to land atop the roof of a nearby building. Their landing was anything but graceful, with Gemma leveraging the mechanics of her legs in order to prevent her and Huey from smashing into a nearby ventilation shaft.

"You're really heavy, Neer," Huey commented idly, wheezing, both hands applying pressure to his belly.
Gemma squinted, levelling Huey with an odd look. "That was illogical. Why did you come back for me?"

Huey grinned despite himself. "I felt it. When you grabbed me back in the caf. The collar. I heard the click. You turned it off," Huey moved his bloody hands away from his belly for a moment before returning them. "But the bullets were kinda hard to stop..."

"That wasn't my question," she said, her tone gently reproachful. "You could have run the other way."
"... Is that what you wanted me to do?"

Instead of responding, Gemma took a knee, examining Huey's shoulder. "There is an exit wound."
"I can feel it, yeah." Despite the wheezing, he seemed oddly calm.
"You're handling a hole in your shoulder pretty well. Have you been shot before?"
His grin turned into a bloody full-tooth smile. "Maybe."

With her remaining hand, she forced his hands away from his grievous abdominal wound, examining the carnage. "The bullet is still in there?"

Huey nodded. At this point, he was bleeding quite profusely. "I can feel it." Without warning, he lost his balance and slumped over, relying fully on Gemma just to remain standing. His voice became fainter as he spoke. "I can't..."

Neer analyzed him further, noting that he was experiencing some form of rapid blood loss. Using her shoulder, she shifted Huey's weight so that he was leaning against the ventilation shaft. And then, without any forewarning, she plunged her finger into his wound.

Perhaps due to his body being in shock or the sheer surprise of it all, Huey did not cry out, instead remaining motionless, his face turning pale. Not a good sign.

Having a mechanical body affords Gemma certain perks. For instance, she can hear things that others might not. She can run at highway speeds for a virtually indefinite amount of time. She can lose an arm and go on about her day. She can also use her body to perform advanced surgical procedures without the assistance of tools—her body usually is the only tool she needs.

A few moments after inserting her finger into Huey's wound, she removed it, along with the bronze remains of a bullet.

"I have the bullet," she said, more to herself than to Huey. "I've also applied a concentrated burst of heat through my fingertip to temporarily cauterize your left gastric artery. That should stop the rapid blood loss, but we must go somewhere calmer if I am to put us back together." Huey didn't respond. Without so much as a grunt of effort, Gemma, suitcase with collar still firmly in grasp, hoisted Huey off the ground, positioning her forearm under his upper hamstrings in order to support the brunt of his weight. After several seconds, Huey loosely wrapped his arms around Gemma's neck. She chalked it up to a subconscious response.

"I already destructed the lab, so we've got no choice," she muttered, bending her knees and leaning into a runner's stance. The increased pressure caused the concrete that composed the building's roof to splinter. Arrays of cracks radiated out from Gemma's feet like spider webs. "We'll drop in on dear Morgan and his merry lot a couple hours early."

**


Gemma slowed in her one-woman-olympic-marathon, decelerating from a superhuman sprint to a more realistic human jog as she approached the warehouse she knew to be the entrance to The Wicked One's base. By the time she reached the familiar warehouse entrance, she was moving at a brisk walk, like a baroness toting around a sack of jewels.

Immediately, she noticed something wasn't right. For one, the warehouse doors looked like they'd been smashed in with a plow. Poking her head inside, Gemma immediately spotted the "secret" entrance to the "secret" passway. Someone or something had barrelled through the false wall like Superman, leaving little of it standing.

So much for secret.

As she navigated the passageway to the Wicked One's home, Gemma picked up on the faint scent of blood. Blood that wasn't Huey's. Though it struck her as intriguing, she wasn't particularly worried. Things were too peaceful for a siege to have gone down. Plus, she definitely recognized the blood's scent, though attaching a name to it was proving difficult. As she walked, her mind inevitably began floating off towards the prospect of experimentation. Perhaps she could redo their entire warehouse—no, their entire entrance system—NO! The entire base! She'd give everyone mechanical eyes that could unlock the doors. Hmm. Would Morgan enjoy an upgraded set of eyes? Maybe. Eh. She'd run it by him later.

For now, she needed to ensure Huey's survival. His breathing had become shallow during their trip, and he'd long since lost consciousness. Her shirt was probably drenched in his blood by now. Still, she would put him back together again. It's what she was good at.

And he was her proof of concept, after all.

With a few more paces, Gemma and Huey stepped into the main base of the Wicked Ones.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus

Earnings

0.00 INK




Image




In a plume of purple flames, Esme, the familiar of Love, came into the world. As she always was, Esme was clothed in a simple, white, lace dress, with white shoes and socks. She wore no other clothes, and did not appear affected by any sort of chill or heat. Though her body was that of a child, her face was timeless. She could have been six or six hundred years old. Blonde hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of fire, stopping only once it had reached her waist, only to curl upwards for a good three inches. Unlike her master's dull, amber eyes, Esme's eyes were a vibrant blue, that shone with a knowledge and wisdom that quickly betrayed her apparent age. This was not the first time she'd been released from her card, nor would it be the last. She had certainly seen Morgan enough times to not attempt to run away from him on sight, and she'd even come to trust this particular friend of her master. Everyone else was still being tested. Especially that hooligan named Joseph and the gas-masked, walking bio-hazard named Mercy.

Fresh from her summoning, Esme knew exactly what needed to be done, even before Morgan helped her come out from her card. They shared a sort of collective consciousness, the familiars did. It was made that way so that Cain could switch between familiars on a whim and not have to tell everyone what was going on each time he changed his active familiar. Esme had learned all she needed to learn from the sarcastic cat and the noisy griffin. Immediately after she burst into reality, Esme did what she was made to do: protect and preserve. She walked swiftly over to Cain's bedside table and placed the lantern there. Having done what was needed, she sat on the floor next to him, her own small hand having found its way into her master's. Though Morgan had posed her a question, and she knew it was never good to make him wait, she was silent for a long time. Her small hands squeezed tighter, both around her master's fingers, and within the fist that was balled up tight and placed in her lap.

Despite Esme's air of confidence, she was worried, and deathly so. Her anxiety was not only for her master, but for her own sake as well, and for all of Cain's remaining familiars as well. In all his life, up till now, even when Cain had first met Morgan, never before had Cain been so wounded. Though his body was mostly intact, besides the obvious laceration on his stomach, Cain's real trauma was elsewhere. Esme sighed quietly to herself. He'd lost so many of them... The healing light of the lantern would do its work, but she didn't have enough energy to speed up the process. Cain was too damaged for her to even think of risking the attempt. If she tried to lift it over her head, Esme instinctively knew that she would disappear in a plume of purple flames, most probably forever. That being said, Cain's body was mostly on the mend. His laceration had scabbed over and was swiftly shrinking. Thanks to the light of her lantern, most wounds vanished within a few short minutes, putting Cain's life out of immediate danger. With that settled, and Morgan demanding answers, Esme did the only thing she could do. Even though it was her least favorite thing in the world to do, Esme began to speak.

"Well," Esme began. She spoke calmly, her tone of voice and measured pace belying her supernatural origins. Her voice was soft and clear, ringing out like a bell within the intimate space of the infirmary. "It happened exactly as my master predicted it would. Upon reaching our destination, and some brief scouting, master's position was betrayed. We aren't yet sure how. It could have been a shift in the wind. It could have been an errant drop of sweat. It could even have been that our enemy simply knew we were there all along. It didn't matter. Once they found us, any and all possibilities for reconnaissance vanished. It's as you feared Morgan. They're gathering at that location. They're gathering under some kind of banner there. From what Cain saw... it's like they're forming an army. We're not sure who, but someone is leading them. Aini... Aini was just the beginning, and from what we've seen, she isn't even the worst of them. We tried to flee, but they surrounded us. Cain tried his hardest but... They trapped us... Cornered us... Cain couldn't make enough room for the griffin to take off until the end, but it's worse than that..."

Though she'd been steadily gaining steam, here Esme's voice broke. A single tear rolled down her porcelain cheek. As soon as the first drop of Esme's sadness hit the ground, more soon followed and Esme began to cry like the little girl she was. As she sobbed, she could contain the news no longer, and she screamed in her frustration. "They're all gone Morgan! All of them! Only me, the cat, and the griffin are left. They destroyed all of Cain's best fighters! Even Pride... Even Ambition! One by one, in defense of their master. One by one, they all fell! Do you understand Morgan? Cain could die! We were originally pieces of him, bound in service to our master. He cut us off from himself and shaped us by hand. When... when a familiar dies... when one of us dies... it's gone forever! Ten pieces, Morgan, ten of them! Carved out from his very soul! And now? Now they're gone forever!" With that, Esme could speak no more, too saddened by what was transpiring before them. She sniffed, wiped her eyes and nose, and returned her attention to Cain. Cain who lay there so still that the only sign he was alive, was that in the grasp of Esme's tiny hands, his own were still warm.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Monica Crawford Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny Character Portrait: Mal Larson

Earnings

0.00 INK

Monica


Mercy’s words filled her head with sweet thoughts of hope but as usual they were quelled by darker thoughts. It was able to bring up the corners of her lips into a small smile. There was a brief lull in their conversation but Mercy finally came around to answering her question, but she wasn’t able to finish. There was a loud bang that kept interrupting her, which made Monica nervous and when she got nervous the miasma tended to get a bit thicker.

Suddenly the wall exploded in the far corner of the building. Once the debris was gone it revealed a monstrous creature that Monica could tell had once been human. The thing ran at Mercy, who was able to procure a broken piece of metal. She managed to sidestep it while hitting it in the abdomen but she was only able to tear the Other’s hoodie. Monica was simply frozen in place. Unsure of what to do Monica thought maybe she could just hide but Mercy’s orders prompted her to do just that, run.

Just as she skirted the obviously one-sided fight between the creature and Mercy, something broke through the warehouses window and kicked the Other to one side. The masked man’s sudden entrance made Monica trip over her feet in surprise and she landed on her butt as a result. For the moment Monica watched the masked man deal with the monster with a jovial air about him. The young woman couldn’t understand the man’s actions in the least bit but she was almost glad that he had interfered since it meant Mercy, her first friend, would be safe for the time being.

Before she knew it, the man was chatting with Mercy briefly before sending the creature flying through a window with the man following its path. Monica scrambled to her feet, running towards the broken window to watch the fight. If she were to get any closer to those outside they’d experience her miasma to a much larger effect.

Mei


"Hey Mei," “Yeah?”
Have you ever shot someone with that thing? You know it's dangerous right? Or are you carrying safety rounds. . . Matter fact, you don't have to answer that. If you tell me otherwise my cute little sister impression of you will change to just another one of those people with powers. Eh.... Forget I said that too. I'ma shut up now."

Mei opened her mouth to answer his first question but as always Joe went on a short rant. In the end he did all the talking for her which made her look back at him with wonder. “Cute little sister? I’m the cute little sister of one person and one person only and it’s not you Joe.” With a sigh, Mei looked through her scope to see if there was any activity nearby. From the look of things there wasn’t any which was good.

“But to answer your question, I have shot people with this but only for good reason. Thankfully it was a one-time thing and yes I do have safety rounds. Morgan got on my ass the last time I used regular bullets.” the young girl was rather happy that he stopped talking since she could focus on the task given to her. "Yeah that sounds about right. You might want to cover your aiming eye Mei." Mei glanced at him with suspicion but upon seeing the marble in his hands she turned her head so she wouldn’t look at the explosion she knew would occur. Surprisingly there wasn’t much noise.

~ ~ ~


Not much time had passed since Joe made his marble pop, maybe about twenty minutes or so. Mei was getting tired of waiting for something to happen. It was definitely a good thing that nothing had happened yet but she wanted to be of some use to Mercy and Shadow. The Russian looked through her scope for the umpteenth time that day. There was movement towards the front of the building but it was just Shadow leaving the warehouse. She deduced his actions to the Other’s ability finally getting to the noob. Even from this distance, Mei felt just a tad bit queasy.

There was more movement but she couldn’t tell what it was from this distance. Mei shifted her gun with her finger hovering over the trigger. The entirety of her focus was on the ware house but she made sure not to make her peripheral vision blur. Suddenly something crashed through a window in the front of the warehouse and in that moment, Mei activated her ability. Eyes glowing red, her gun followed the monstrosity movement however it paused briefly when she caught sight of a different person. A man with a mask was following after the Other but he stopped, calling out to someone she thought.

If only I had super hearing. With a frown Mei spoke to Joe. “I’m going to fire a warning shot. Oh and I might need one of your marbles to throw if it’s possible.” Focusing once more on the Other, Mei pulled the trigger. A loud bang could be heard and the bullet bit into the ground barely an inch away from hitting the Other. Hopefully Mercy understood the message. If need be Mei would shoot the thing down but only if there was no other way to end thei current predicament.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Huey St. Portus Character Portrait: Gemma Morrow

Earnings

0.00 INK


Morgan


The Wicked leader waited for what felt like agonizing years for Esme to answer his question. However he knew to hold his tongue upon noticing the small frail girls fingers balling up into a tight fist while the other gripped Cain's hand tight. Morgan watched Esme with thoughtful eyes. He glanced over at his old friend, an expression of worry swiftly crossing his face. He did brighten up slightly now that he saw Cain's smaller injuries heal and scab over.

Esme's clear and soft voice made Morgan jumped just the slightest and he hoped the subtle action didn't discourage the girls trust in him. She had his attention once the words poured out from her. As each word was spoken, Morgan's hold on his temper began to crack. Just like his temper, Esme's voice cracked and a tear rolled down her pale cheek.

Instinctively, Morgan reached out for her hand but he hesitated in placing it over her much smaller hands. It pained him seeing her like this, it reminded him of Mei. Finally he brought his hand over her own. Her cries of frustration made him frown and grind his teeth. "Ambition and Pride!?" As Esme continued, Morgan's frustration escalated so did the contents of her words. Once she was done speaking, the small girl sniffed and wiped her nose and eyes, becoming calm once more.

Morgan stood over Esme for a little while longer before he suddenly stood up and began to pace the room. And just as suddenly as he stood up, Morgan punched the wall, "Dammit!" Rubbing his face, he pushed his glasses up to rub his eyes making sure to keep his back to Esme and Cain as he did so. He turned around to face them again, glasses back where they should be. Walking over to Cain's bedside, Morgan sat down on the edge with a heavy but frustrated sigh.

"It's my fault isn't Esme? I'm the who sent him out there and for what for him to come back like this? Damn them all to hell." From the looks of it his anger had a lid on it but one could see it in his eyes and posture that he wasn't over it. It wasn't long after that there was something of a commotion going on within the building. With a look of guilt for having to leave Cain's side during such an ordeal, Morgan backed out of the room as if turning away would mean Cain no longer existed.

He turned to face forwards again and strode down the halls at a brisk pace. People were arguing amongst themselves and it didn't take long for Morgan to see why. They all quieted down once they noticed his presence and he quickly cleared his throat to keep it from cracking. Surrounded by four Wicked members was none other than Gemma Marrow, someone he hadn't been expecting to see considering the circumstances. "Dammit! Now isn't a good time Gemma-" It was then that he noticed the blood soaked shirt and the young man in her arms, or well arm seeing as she only had one arm at the moment. He stood there in some shock for a brief second before he finally snapped out of it.

"Shit. Let her through everyone, can't you see she's injured while carrying another injured person? Follow me." He beckoned the woman forwards and he quickly walked in the direction of the infirmary. Morgan was well aware that Gemma would be fine without medical aid for a while but the kid, probably not. Even though she probably could've gotten to the infirmary herself, Morgan needed something to do even though that something brought him back to the root of his worry.

Entering the room, he motioned towards one of the empty beds and then went to one of the medicine cabinets. He pulled out whatever looked suitable for the wounds he saw and handed some to Gemma. "I know you could probably do this yourself but as you can see I need to be useful for the moment. Besides you've only got one arm and that won't help this kid, at least I don't think." He looked over his shoulder at the oddity of a woman. Despite what was going on Morgan's voice was terrifyingly calm.

He ripped open the pack of sterilized wipes and cracked the lid off a water bottle. Making sure the kids shirt was off, Morgan quickly poured water over the wounds. It washed away some of the blood so he used the wipes to clean it up. "So what's your relationship with this kid Neer?" Referring to her street name. He noticed the collar on the kids neck and the state of his person. Even without the blood loss, Morgan was pretty sure the kid would still look like crap. "He isn't another one of your experiments is he?" As he questioned her, an older man came up behind him and placed his hand on his shoulder.

It was quite obvious that he was in charge here, at least in this room any way. "I know you want to help Morgan but I can handle it from here. And you too young lady. I'm not sure how your still standing there without that arm of yours but something tells me I shouldn't worry." Not waiting for an answer the old man, Roy, quickly took off where Morgan left off. With hesitation in his step, Morgan stepped back, running his hand through his hair and sighing.

He shuffled over to Cain's bedside and pulled out a nearby chair and plopped right on down. Looking away from everyone, Morgan rubbed his eyes again. Turning his attention to Gemma, he leaned forwards on his elbows, clasping his hands together as he did so. "Well should we be worried about that arm of yours Gemma?" He forced on a playful smile but it faltered halfway through and turned into a frown.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Huey St. Portus Character Portrait: Gemma Morrow

Earnings

0.00 INK

Gemma strolled through the beast-shaped hole in the wall and into the home of the Wickeds, still managing to maintain her baroness swagger, even though she was missing an arm and carrying a kid. She paid no mind to the dozen or so heads that spun in her direction as she entered, their gazes icing over into steely leers.

Eyeing a nearby counter, she gently lay down the small silverish suitcase that contained the fruits of her precious research, juggling Huey's weight whilst she did so. Though she exuded an air of machine-like emotional consistency and confidence, now that she had finally arrived at her destination, she was becoming increasingly aware of the dire urgency of Huey's condition with every passing second. There seemed to be moments where he would stop breathing altogether, though if she listened intently, she could hear the faint wheeze of his diaphragm struggling to draw in the necessary oxygen.

That's when someone approached her from behind.

"What do you think you're doing here?"

Leaving the suitcase on the counter, Gemma turned, adjusting her stance so as to more comfortably support Huey's weight. Before her stood what she could only assume were one of the Wickeds. Judging by his tone and the arrogant way he carried himself, he was probably new. She certainly didn't recognize him at least. Then again, she hadn't been by in a while.

Inevitably, Gemma's gaze fell to the guy's right arm. She needed an arm right about now, and this guy seemed to have more arms than necessary.

"You're trespassing," the guy continued, puffing out his chest. "Leave, before we make you leave."

His words were like a call to action to several others in the room, most of whom stood, menacing looks on their faces. Gemma recognized none of them. Maybe she'd been gone for longer than she thought. She returned her attention to the guy standing in front of her. A Wicked. He was as tall as she was, which was... interesting. It also meant she couldn't look down at him.

"Right," her tone was so exceedingly dismissive that the guy flinched back a bit, as if from a slap. She then turned her head away from him, refusing to acknowledge his existence any longer. "You there. Girl." Gemma motioned with her chin to the Wicked closest to the hall she knew led to the inner reaches of the headquarters. The place certainly had a new look to it since the last time she'd hung around, but thankfully the inner hall was still the same homey little cut-out in the wall. "Be a dear and fetch Morgan for me, hmm?"

It was not a question. Yet, the girl didn't move. She held her ground, looking around at the others as if for confirmation. Gemma sighed bitterly, side-stepping the Wicked that stood before her and making her way towards the inner hall. "I do not have time for this impudence," she muttered to herself, her pace brisk but measured. However, before she could make it more than a few steps towards the hall, she was stopped by a hard hand on her shoulder.

"You're not getting past us." Came the guy's coarse voice from behind her. Gemma froze mid-step. "Leave, lady." She paused not because of the fingers digging into what remained of her right shoulder, but because Huey had let out a small yelp. In using his hand to arrest her momentum so suddenly, the male Wicked had caused Huey a modicum of discomfort, enough to be painful. It was something she'd been artfully avoiding by carefully pacing her steps and choosing her footfalls during her hour-long journey here, and it had all been ruined by this punk and his bravado.

Not that she didn't understand where he was coming from. He didn't know her. She was missing an arm, looked generally disheveled with dried blood running down her front side, and just appeared through a hole in the wall. Still, that was no reason to be rude.

Pivoting on her heel with all the grace of a robotic arm on an assembly line, Gemma delivered a swift kick to the Wicked's abdomen, sending him flying backwards and out through the hole from which she'd first emerged. She didn't exactly mean to kick him so hard, but she was growing tired of wasting what remained of Huey's time.

"Bring me Morgan," she commanded again, her voice cold and hard, this time directing her wish to the room at large. "Now." Gemma pursed her lips in annoyance when, instead of unilaterally obeying her, four other Wickeds decided to advance, surrounding her. She narrowed her eyes.

If she had to set Huey down for this, she'd definitely be taking a few arms today.

That's when someone cleared their throat. Gemma heard it first and so reacted first, her eyes snapping to the figure who stood hall's entrance. It was Morgan.

At the same time she recognized him, she could tell that he'd recognized her. "Dammit! Now isn't a good time Gemma—" He paused when he noticed the veteran Wicked's sad state of affairs.

"Hello to you too, my dear Morgan." She said, filling in the silence. "Now, if you wouldn't mind..." She shifted Huey's weight slightly, putting her bloody shirt and general armlessness on full display for all to see.

"Shit. Let her through everyone, can't you see she's injured while carrying another injured person? Follow me." He beckoned her forward and she followed, matching his quick pace whilst taking care not to jostle Huey's injured body. As they approached what she knew to be the infirmary in general silence, she could tell that some matter was weighing heavily on Morgan's psyche. It was rare to see him in such an... oddly unpredictable state. Something was riling him up and he seemed liable to pop off at any moment.

Interesting.

They entered the infirmary and, at Morgan's direction, Gemma lay Huey's body down as gently as possible, bending her knees and leaning over so as to become level with the bed. Huey's arms, which were interlocked around her neck, came apart easily as he'd long since lost consciousness.

Gemma nodded at Morgan's next assertion, looking down at her remaining arm. Her fingers were twitching slightly, which meant she was dangerously low on energy—so much so that she was starting to lose control over her extremities. Perhaps that sniper had done more damage than she'd initially thought. She was thankful that Morgan was here to help. It would have been annoying trying to operate on the kid by her lonesome, which is why she came here ahead of schedule in the first place.

As Morgan began sterilizing the area around Huey's belly, thick red blood oozed up out of his wound. Gemma frowned in worry, placing the back of her hand on his forehead. He was burning up.

"So what's your relationship with this kid Neer?" Morgan asked, his voice calm. "He isn't one of your experiments, is he?"

She opened her mouth to answer in the affirmative that Huey was indeed one of her experiments, but a rapid series of thoughts gave her pause. She removed her hand from Huey's forehead and stared at it. It was slightly damp with his sweat.

Why was she so worried, anyway? Why had she expended the extra energy in carrying him here? Why hadn't she just discarded him, like any other experiment that'd run its course? He's just another subject. She'd run hundreds of thousands of experiments in the past, many of them on human subject, so what made this one any different? The only other subject she ever truly cared for from more than a goal-oriented perspective was...

Gemma took a step back, looking at Morgan. The struggle evident in his bespectacled face as he cleaned Huey's wound.

"I'm not sure," she said in answer to his question. "I'm not sure what he is to me at all." The beginnings of a grin pulled at her lips. "It's quite fascinating, really."

That's when a familiar old man took the reigns, shooing Morgan and Gemma away as he went to work on repairing Huey's damaged body. Morgan hesitated before relenting, eventually taking a seat next to another occupied bed in the infirmary. Gemma walked up to stand beside him. In the bed was a Wicked she recognized all too well.

She sniffed at the air. "Ah, so that's who I smelled in the warehouse. You went and got your bloody magician injured, though his condition seems stable. Nice. I won't inquire as to what manner of trouble you two have gotten yourselves into just yet." She winked overtly before spotting Esme. "Oh. And his faith healer is here, too. A shame she can't make me a new arm, huh?"

"Well should we be worried about that arm of yours Gemma?"

Gemma smiled lightly, her legs growing tired. "The wound is slowly hemorrhaging liquids, but I'll be fine once I find a spot to set up my lab." Her mechanical stomach was incapable of "rumbling," but if it could, the roar of it would be audible for miles. "I am a tad parched, though. I would make my way towards the kitchen, but I fear you haven't potty-trained these new Wickeds of yours." She raised the back of her hand as if preparing to slap the air in front of her. "Though I'm not above doling out a few object lessons."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Monica Crawford Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny Character Portrait: Mal Larson

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Damioa
Joe


Noticing Mei was moving around, Joe looked ahead of him to see a desturbance, which was followed by a few crashing noises. The firework display he had going on in between his hands ceased and he stood up, stretching. "Finally. It's time for me to get some action in hehe." He grinned as spoke and jogged in place a little in excitement.


“I’m going to fire a warning shot. Oh and I might need one of your marbles to throw if it’s possible.”

Turning towards Mei he thought for a second and shrugged his shoulders. "Wow Mei. You don't wanna be my fake sister, but you want my energy. You're growing into a typical woman you know," he jested before snapping his fingers to create a energy orb. "It won't explode and will probably only last for a few minutes after I leave. Try to be careful though. I think raw energy is bad for people. Then again, you're a wicked so you should be fine.... Maybe."

Turning over his hand, the ball floated down until it hit the grown and sat in place besides the girl. Joe saluted the girl and grinned at her before jumping off the ledge from the point they were at, falling head first towards the ground while an outline of energy slowly wrapped itself around his body. Feet from the ground he made a hasty stop and the energy focused more on his feet sent him blasting in the sky like a rocket, headed towards his teams and the others direction.

He raised to a peak height and fell down towards them holding his hands out to catch his fall. Through the roof of the building, there was a loud bang and short flash of light before some of the ceiling came falling down in the center. The dubree missed the wickeds and the other and Joe rose from the smoke in a coughing fit, looking around as if he was trying to sneak away from something.

"Cuughhcuuccough. Damn. . . Cough cough. Wow. I seriously need to find a safer way to travel."

He ignored the monster who was currently being entertained by the new guys outside. He was sure they'd survive another three minutes, and besides, since he landed inside instead of outside he had a greater task to fulfill. "So Mercy. You seem to be one of those people who attract trouble. How many times has something like this happened? You're not hurt are you? Hm?" Before he let Mercy respond he looked towards the other girl with her. "Well well well. You also seem to be a distressed damsel. Well don't worry my two princesses. Me and my fellow knights shall slay this foul beast!!!"

Bowing to both of them individually, he turned his body towards the beast who was in all of its ugliness, growling and carrying on. Or was it actually a man? That, he couldn't tell. He bounced out the window, still with a light coat of energy around his person. He didn't know how stuff like crazy get you sick powers worked, but he was sure he'd be okay if he used his own. Then again, he was sure he'd get a lot of time to test out his theory after this.

At first, he didn't jump to help, for he wanted to see if the two would be okay on their own. He judged by their powers that they should have been okay, but then again their explanations of their abilities and their actual know how could be the difference between life and death in this situation and Joe was not going to be the one to be blamed for the death of two new recruits.

"Heya boys. You two look pretty cool fighting this demon right now." He grinned and paced back and forth, whistling as if there was no danger at all. Yawning, he opened his hand and a ball of light slowly formed, growing larger and larger until he ceased the growth and made it disappear. He was going to blow the think to bits, but he decided that wouldn't be fun, nor would it be a good idea. The boys were too close. Instead he cuffed his hands pointing the top of his closed fist at the other. Slowly, light began to seep through the cracks and a long line of energy began to stick out in the fiends direction. The light continued to move and twist until a glorious sword was made in the mans hands. "Have at thee beast," Joe announced before running to the creature. It noticed he was coming from behind and turned around just to clash with the sword. It was like an animal the way it attacked Joe, but the boy was lucky that his energy guard was still up. After he got a groove for the beasts movements, he wasn't worried. In fact it became more and more like a dance.

Upon closer inspection, the beast was a human who may have been an other. Joe, feeling bad for it, decided not to go for fatal cuts and instead aimed for the creatures arms and legs. The incisions he was making seemed to heal almost as soon as they were formed and by noticing this, Joe began to plan his next mode of action. Most things were pointing to him having to put the creature down and take the human out of his or her misery, but he didn't really like that idea. It wasn't really fun killing something, because once dead, you can't play anymore, but he was prepared to do what he had to.

Letting go of the sword, it began to move on it's own through the manipulation fo the energy that made it up and Joe spun away from his adversary, backing towards the boys.

"Well guys," he explained. "We have a few things we can do here as the men on the scene."

He concentrated, not taking his eye off the sword which was fighting the other by itself. His face was scrunched up and he was beginning to feel the effects of fighting for too long, and not the tiresome ones. Without thinking about it, he accidentally ordered the sword to impale the vile thing and with a forceful strike the energy saber went straight through, driving hard enough to pick it off its feet and slam it to the ground.

"Damn. I didn't mean to do that," he said relaxing. "Ah well. Time to get some Mcdonalds."

The energy saber disappeared and since it didn't explode, the essence of it, flowed back to Joe, who was leaving the scene. He had completely forgotten why they were there in the first place.

Humming to himself he walked casually towards the main street, but stopped when he felt the energy of the other wasn't gone all the way. "Crap," he said as it twitched and began to recompose itself. "I don't want to blow you up man."

He glanced towards the other two to see if he really had to resort to using one of the ten shots he measured himself having. He hoped he wouldn't have to exert that much energy though, for he knew the pains that came with using too much energy. "Well boys. Any ideas?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Monica Crawford Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny Character Portrait: Mal Larson

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Byte
Image

A strange thing happened that day. Two men crash-landed into the warehouse in an almost collaborative attempt to demolish the building like they were wrecking balls. And once again Mercy couldn't help but feel as though fate just didn't want her to play pretend-hero as these bumbling idiots barged in and subsequently engaged the Eldritch horror (which still didn't do the otherkind any justice) with religious fervour, and with an equal sum of glee that left a bitter taste in the wicked's mouth.

She thanked the Gods for this divine intervention, regardless.

As the heat of battle migrated outside the warehouse, Mercy's thought reverted to the only thing she cared about at this point; Monica's safety. The child excitedly ran for the broken window, as she had apparently found a higher priority in observing the spectacle rather than legging it for the nearest safe point, and the veteran wicked couldn't help but fuss more now that Joe had entered the fray. The nutcase had a tendency to hand out explosions like sweets on All Hallows Eve.

“Don't worry. He's an absolute fruitcake, but he can handle himself.”

And so was the other one, apparently. But she wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

The fight had dumbed down a bit with the bloating man-beast finding its struggle, presumably for dinner, had increased significantly with the addition of another big fish entering the boxing ring and dishing out injuries like they were after-eight mints.

Despite the massive bruises and flesh wounds it had sustained, however, the creature appeared to have some kind of regenerative factor that was enough to keep it alive. Although it wasn't difficult to notice that this particular healing ability was most likely the cause for its hideous shell. Unstable regeneration had a nasty side effect to regenerate beyond what is essential, effectively increasing the chance for the mutant in question to develop tumors all over. They usually didn't live for long...

“Joe! Light a flare for Mei, will you? Tell her to cap this fucker between the eyes.” If she even had a clear shot.

With an echoing sneer, the creature rose onto its feet and hands. Bracing for a leap, but not at the huntsmen who had hurt him so much. No, it had learned from its mistake, and its cold gaze fixated on the only two women within the vicinity...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Monica Crawford Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny Character Portrait: Mal Larson

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by duramon
Mal


Mal was at current still dealing with his Other problem, crouched low in a boxing style, trading blows back and forth until the arrival of a showboating nutjob, Mal almost changed target at the irresponsible showcase of the young man but bit his tongue, waiting for him to finish his little show of energy. "Get useful or get gone! This isn't a game!" He growled, as the energy finally returned to the boy. His eyes widened as he saw its new targets and his jaw set firm, flashing his knuckleblades into place again with another growl.

He darted behind the distracted beast and leaped onto it's back as it leapt, wrapping his arms around it's throat and tackling it back into the ground, Mal flexed his arm muscles against the things throat, pressing them in as hard as possible to partially crush it's throat as he flipped it over his shoulder, slamming it into the ground hard enough to crack the concrete as he released it, grabbing it's hand and forcing it's arm to stretch out as his free hand swung towards its already cut elbow joint, the blade sinking in deep and coming out the other side as an abominable limb found itself by the wayside. As the beast clambered up to continue its charge Mal reached into his coat and braced his shoulder as he rammed into it's side, knocking it back down and sitting on its chest as he pulled a new silver piece from his apparel, a large-framed revolver twisted to the side to face point blank into the creatures face.

For a moment there was sudden silence as the click of the hammer being pulled back resounded, the beast apprehensive of it's death before a final horrific roar, one echoed by the masked man as he pulled the trigger. The hammer flying forward to hit the primer, the explosive force propelling the bullet spiralling through the barrel to find it's target, the bang echoing long after the shot as he got off the Other, pressing his fingers between the as of yet unhealed energy blade wound and dutifully searching for something before removing his blood-slick hand. Mal heaved the mess of a large body onto his back and carried it over to a suitably peaceful spot, spending a few moments to gather it into as respectful a pose as possible.

"You were powerful and unfortunate, I'll at least send you off with a burial by flame." He said to the open air before turning back to the The Wickeds, apprehensive about his next action, these ones were not as he had expected, but he had duties to fulfil. "Malice, I have watched your group for some time. Next time you fight an Other, don't play games, taunting is for tactical reasons not for sport, they're a living thing and if you can't subdue their powers then make it quick..." He lectured, pulling down his hood to reveal his golden hair and pulling off his skull mask to stuff into his pockets along with his blades, revealing his piercing eyes and a blank expression, two fingers penetrated his cheek with no small amount of effort and a pained expression followed as he tore out a large part of his cheek, the skin blackened and decaying much like smaller patches of his features, the skin rebuilding itself in a few seconds as the rest of his decay slowly receded.

Sending an annoyed glance at the show-off he then looked to Mercy and the girl "Okay, so I believe you requested someone 'cap this fucker between the eyes.', mission accomplished to my regret, if show-boat could light that flare for the sniper this conversation will be repeated half as much and we can move on with our lives." He said, brushing down as much dirt and blood as possible from his coat "For now, I'll be over here honouring the dead as long as the young one beside you is okay that is...I came prepared with a medkit in that nearby building, I'll be back with it and gasoline...I'll wait until you've left till I begin the burial." He continued in a kind tone, pointing to his original position before stalking off to retrieve his gear, a dark cloud hanging over his head that roiled with the final roar of his foe.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny Character Portrait: Mal Larson

Earnings

0.00 INK

Shadow Loveheart


For a brief moment Shadow just blanked out when the beast crashed landed into the warehouse, surely enough Mercy handled the beast for a few instances before Joe crashes into the building after some other person fought with the creature for a few moments. It all happened quite fast for Shadow to react they had called out for help the unknown individual who apparently had been stalking them for some reason; but Joe was there and he was more than enough to deal with most problems that could possibly happen in this situation. In the end the creature was already killed before Shadow stood up to try and help not that he was needed in the most. Shadow shook his head and though "Did I pass out?!" he mentally joked and then looked at the others.

Standing up he got a bit closer to the wickeds as the stalker was leaving to get his med kid and gasoline having said something for a proper burial of some sorts for the Other. "Well that went nicely I can say the least you didn't even need my help, though I would've ended in a second if I stepped in so I didn't so you guys could do something." Shadow said trying to play it off, albeit he did space out and he was probably going to get en earful or worse when they got back. "Might I add that thing just came out of no where so I had no chance of warning you guys before its arrival. ehehe...." Shadow said scratching the back of his head.
That other had shown his ability in attempt to show off Shadow guessed he was another recruit or he wanted to be at least, he was good and skilled Shadow could say that.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Huey St. Portus Character Portrait: Gemma Morrow

Earnings

0.00 INK




Image




Pain echoed through Cain's mind, surging against his will like unending waves against a pathetically constructed levee. It came as a stampede of agony, rampaging through his body and threatening to stamp out his very existence. Cain wanted to give up. He wanted to quit holding on to life. He wanted to just let it end. It was too much for him to bear, and yet, he was alive. The pain would have broken him, if not for Esme. As soon as she had been summoned, Cain's biological life was out of immediate danger. His wounds sealed up, his flesh knitted back together, and his broken bones slowly slid back into their proper places and became whole once more. Someone was putting bandages on his body. Someone had cleaned off the blood and dirt. It was nice. With his body mostly in one piece, and with his life in the hands of his trusted friends, Cain's mind drifted from the real world, and the muffled voices he thought he heard. Surprisingly enough, Cain drifted off to sleep.

~~~

"So this is the end of the line for us, eh?"

"I ain't surprised, I mean, there were thirteen of us. Idiot musta had a death wish."

"Watch it you, that's our master you're talking about!"

"Enough, he's here."

Cain opened his eyes. He could see them. Cain's eyes were working. He looked down at himself, his eyes devouring his surroundings. The room he was in was simple enough. There were no walls, of if there were, Cain could not see them, the horizon stretching out all around him into an inky black nothingness. The floor was checkered tile, a simple black and white, but it too stretched on forever. Cain's eyes turned skyward, but it was blacker than a starless night. All around him there were pillars, holding up the nonexistent sky. The bottoms were intricately carved in white stone, but the tops were hidden in the blackness above. There were no torches, or lights, or anything, but Cain had no problem seeing anything at all. It was bright, but it was dark. Cain chuckled to himself, and turned his attention to his own body. Cain was dressed simply, some loose pants and a t-shirt, but they were almost like pajamas. Cain felt tired, but he didn't dare close his eyes. Even before he saw them he knew, Cain was surrounded.

Looking up, Cain's eyes found old friends. Most of his cards were here with him, ten of them to be precise. This must have been a dream, there was no purple fire on his hand, and he had never been strong enough to summon this many familiars at once. The Kraken and the Turtle, his Wolf Pack, the Mighty Dragon, the Twisted Shadow, Mirrored Ambition, Youthful Pride, everyone except Ches the Cat, Esme the Lantern Bearer, and the Griffin was here. "Hello old friends." Cain whispered, his voice hoarse. There was a general muttering in response. "Though I'm already quite sure, where are we?" Cain asked innocently.

The mood instantly shifted. Their eyes all avoided him, and their standing posture became furtive, even secretive. "Well?" Cain prompted, and finally, Ambition, his own reflection, answered him. "You're dead. You lost us in battle, all but three. The strain on your soul was too heavy, and you died." Instantly the pack of familiars devolved into a rioting frenzy. "Oi! Watch your tone! Why'd you go and tell him? Idiots. You little!" They bickered like children until Cain cleared his throat. "Silence, please." Instantly the roiling hoard was quiet. "I am sorry, my friends." Cain said simply. "I have failed you. I do thank you for all that you've done for me. For years of faithful service, and for putting up with my selfishness. Thank you." Sheepishly, words of acceptance were muttered. Even Ambition could do nothing but blush and look away as Cain so unabashedly did away with his own pride.

"I guess, then, that this is goodbye." Cain said simply, but Pride, who was just a little boy, stepped forward, and Cain knelt to speak with him. "That's where you're wrong, Cain." Pride corrected. "You have much to do Cain. Morgan and the rest of the Wickeds need you. We can't just let you die with our debt to you still intact." More general mutterings of agreement. "You breathed life into us, made us, and shaped us. Would would never have lived without you, so now, It's our turn to do the same for you. We have our pride as well." As the little boy spoke, one by one, Cain's familiars were swallowed up by purple plumes of flame. Finally, as Pride himself was set ablaze, he said just one last thing. "This is our gift to you, Master. You need do nothing but shut up and accept it. So... thank you. Thank you for making us, for believing in us. Now go. You are the Oracle of the Wickeds, the Wielder of the Purple Flame, the Bringer of Life, and the Black Butler. You are needed Cain. So live!"

~~~

Back in the real world, a sleeping Cain was suddenly engulfed in a brilliant blaze of purple flame. All his bandages were burned off and the scars across his eyes seemed to melt away. Esme startled. She had hidden behind Morgan once Gemma and the others all showed up, but now she curiously stepped forward. What was this? Her master's life, which had been slowly leaking away from him, had come flooding back into his body. What was this power she felt from him? Either way, it was more than enough, and she bolted, scrambling to her lantern as quickly as she could, and she lifted it well over her head, extending the lantern's golden glow to all in the infirmary. Its healing light filled the room with its warmth and all wounds within the infirmary were healed near instantaneously.

Lost tissues and limbs, of an organic nature, were instantly regrown and all lost blood replaced. "Morgan!" Esme shouted, tears of joy in her eyes. "He's coming back to us!" She rushed to Cain's side, lantern still held high, and waited with bated breath. Surely enough, within a few moments, Cain's eyes fluttered open, and he sat upright. Smiling, he placed his hand atop Esme's head, ruffling her hair. "Thank you, my dear." Esme smiled happily, wiping tears from her eyes as she set the lantern on his bedside table. She clambered into his bed, and rested her head against his chest, her arms wrapped around her beloved master. Cain simply smiled at her, and left his hand atop her head. Looking around, Cain's once dull, white eyes, which were now a faint amber, took in his surroundings with a renewed vigor until he found Morgan. Upon seeing his old friend, Cain's gentle smile took on a more pronounced warmth. "Well, it seems I was away for some time, my friend, but I have returned. I hope I haven't worried you too much."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Monica Crawford Character Portrait: Mal Larson

Earnings

0.00 INK

Monica


Monica watched the fight, half interested, supposedly they were fighting to protect her, but she still had problems believing that. She thought about all that happened recently as the fight wore on. Mercy, she seemed nice, and she is the first person who ever took an interest in her, more than that the first person to be nice to her, to befriend her, but despite all that Monica was still wary. And she was a little weirded out that Mercy was able to be near her in the condition she was in.

As Monica's thoughts returned to the world around her she noticed the fight had concluded, and it would seem her "help" had won, with the danger averted she paid the newcomers words no mind, glancing around for Mercy. She found her talking with the gold haired newcomer. She walked over to them slowly, trying to regain control of herself as she walked, hoping her new friend's invulnerability would continue to last, and that her savior would prove durable enough to remain unharmed as she tried to reign in the Nether Energy. As is to be expected of a force like Nether Energy, it didn't want to be controlled, once freed it never wanted to stop, and Monica was exhausted. Funny thing about Nether Energy, using it exhausting, and controlling it doubly so, but the most exhausting part was willing it away, try as she might Monica was barely making any progress. After closing about half the distance Monica stopped walking and dropped to her knees, stroking the charm at her ear and muttering to herself. "You can do this, make it go away. You don't want to hurt anyone anymore." Her voice was barely audible, she didn't really believe herself, but maybe if she said it with enough confidence it would work. She took a deep breath and let out an audible sigh trying to regain her composure. "Just go away. I don't need you anymore. I ... I don't wanna die anymore so just stop it." she pleaded with the energy, but it wasn't working the energy was no longer expanding but it wasn't contracting or dissipating. She started to cry and for the first time in a long time she actually felt enough to feel angry. "THAT'S ENOUGH! I AM IN CONTROL!" she screamed through her tears, no doubt attracting the attention of those nearby, but more importantly the miasma of necrotic energy started contracting and dissipating. Her tear soaked face smiled for the first time in so long she can't remember she did it. She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her hoody and rose to her feet closing the distance between her and Mercy. "so what now?" she asked her voice back to its normal quiet tone.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Monica Crawford Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny Character Portrait: Mal Larson

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Byte
Image

And with a single, resounding bang not from Mei, but the masked man's firearm, the abominable otherkind finally bit the dust and thus preventing its final attempt to acquire an easy kill. However, not everyone was pleased with the end result of this brawl. A puzzled gaze of ruby warily followed the actions of the victor who had taken to lifting the dead weight corpse of the mutilated fiend, observing as he laid it some place quiet, carefully adjusting it into a dignified position that raised more questions than answers.

A curious saviour indeed.

How was this creature's death unfortunate again? From a technical standpoint they had done this thing a favour, it had little life, or intelligence for that matter, to speak of. Killing it was the lesser evil, if it was considered evil at all. Regardless Mercy shot the man a grateful and approving nod, her wariness drowning ever so slightly with a single gulp at the display of the stranger's powers that explained how he too had not yet succumbed to the miasma of decay that still loomed around Monica.

“Do as you please, though I won't stick around for the funeral.” In all honesty, she inwardly ridiculed the idea to give this thing a burial. She had sympathy for its primitive existence, yes, but to give it sympathy after death was something Mercy found... strange to say the least.

It was then that Mercy's gaze instinctively fell upon Monica as the poor girl let out a sudden howl, a screaming plea, for whatever was taking hold of her to release its grip and as if on cue the sickening damp that loomed around the area seemed to withdraw into nothingness. A clout of worry caused the Wick to meet the remaining other halfway, suppressing the urge to express concern when the girl made an inquiry in her usual whisper. A valid question that Mercy had no definite answer for as of yet.

Knees bent slightly to reach eye-level contact with the girl, an affectionate stare calmly examining Monica. “Are you okay?” She asked, though the Wicked woman somehow knew the girl was unharmed.

An air of silence lingered for a moment when Mercy mustered up the effort and words to speak in order to determine their next course of action. “I'll leave that up to you, Monica. I will support whatever you decide to do.” The woman glanced at the other Wicked that were present, wondering if they- and those at home would be okay having a high risk profile in their midst. The niggling threat that Morgan would refuse Monica amnesty momentarily crossed her mind, her inner self taking some time to conclude that such a thing was bogus and implausible.

“Although...” The veteran wicked spoke once more, her voice sweetened. “I'd love it if you came with me.” Truer words couldn't have been spoken. Even if Monica didn't choose to join the Wicked Ones, Mercy would at least try to keep in touch one way or the other... It was the least she could do to help out a fellow misfit of both mutant and human society.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Huey St. Portus Character Portrait: Gemma Morrow

Earnings

0.00 INK

Morgan


"The wound is slowly hemorrhaging liquids, but I'll be fine once I find a spot to set up my lab." A wave of releief rolled over him. He was glad to an extent that he wouldn’t have to worry about Gemma as well as Cain and those who he had sent out.

"I am a tad parched, though. I would make my way towards the kitchen, but I fear you haven't potty-trained these new Wickeds of yours." Morgan laughed a bit at this although he wasn’t sure why. It could have been that her words took him away from the boy who was bleeding out on the bed behind them and Cain who was still unconscious. He pressed his chin in between his thumb and forefinger, regarding Gemma’s fear. “Should I be offended at all?”

"Though I'm not above doling out a few object lessons At this he chuckled, shaking his head a bit. “Be my guest.” waving his hand absentmindedly at the door. Then a look of realization crossed his features. “Actually no, don’t do that. I don’t want any more problems than I already have at the moment. I’ll see if I can get someone to bring in some food in here.” Morgan looked over at where Roy was still at work, the look he sent him asked whether it was alright and Roy merely shrugged his shoulders. “Looks like our medic is fine with the food part and there’s some water over in that cabinet over there.” He pointed to the very cabinet he took the medical supplies from.

Standing up, Morgan watched Roy for a moment before those golden orbs fell on his friend. “I’ll go into the kitchen, see what food I can find and bring it over. I’m sure once the kid wakes up he’ll want something to nibble on.” He walked out the door quickly so as not to miss anything important if he took too long. Arriving in the kitchen, Morgan found some fruit and a bag of chips. With snacks in hand he headed back to the infirmary. "Morgan” Esme’s voice made him jump and he broke into a run; nearly running into one of the walls from turning the corner sharply.

He burst into the infirmary quickly putting the snacks he had gotten down somewhere they wouldn’t be in the way. “What is it!?” A look of worry set deep in his brow. “He's coming back to us!" A grin spread from ear to ear. It was then that he noticed Cain’s wounds were nowhere to be seen thanks to Esme’s latern. He glanced over at where the kid lay and saw that Roy had a look of shock at seeing the boys wounds were healed completely. It seemed like he still wasn’t used to Esme’s abilities.

Morgan focused his attention back on Cain, a flutter of joy upon seeing his friends eyes flutter until they finally opened. Soon enough he was sitting upright his hand resting at the top of Esme’s head before she was in his bed hugging him. Laughing, Morgan took slow steps forwards and took a shaky descent into his chair. It was easy to tell that he was quite flabbergasted by it all, especially when those amber eyes of his settled on him. Wait amber? Eyes widened upon noticing this new development. Once again Morgan was astounded by Cain’s sudden recovery that he didn’t quite hear him speak. “Cain your eyes are the color of amber?” his voice soft, almost a whisper that only those close enough would hear.

Instinctively he reached out to Cains face but quickly set it on a new path so that it rested on his shoulder. Suddenly the hand came back up, lightly smacking the side of Cain’s head. “You amber eyed bastard you nearly had me planning your funeral with you leaving.” He chuckled lightly although maybe his joking manner wasn’t quite necessary yet. Morgan leaned back in his chair a wide grin on his face. His mouth moved silently, mouthing the words I can’t believe it to himself. Suddenly remembering Gemma and the kid Morgan almost jumped out of his chair with a new found energy however his silent rage still sparked in his eyes “Oh! You remember Gemma right? She brought over that kid over there that Roy’s with. He was practically dead, very much like yourself a little while ago until well you know, all this happened,” referring to him coming back and Esme healed everyone.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Monica Crawford

Earnings

0.00 INK

Monica


Mercy closed the distance to Monica, and bent down to look her over, "Are you okay?" she asked calmly. Monica simply nodded her head, too tired to respond. Monica waited for Mercy to respond to her earlier question. The air was still and silent for but a minute as Mercy collected her thoughts and spoke, “I'll leave that up to you, Monica. I will support whatever you decide to do.” Monica thought about what she wanted to do but before she could answer Mercy spoke again. "Although ... I'd love it if you came with me.” Monica smiled up at Mercy, happily nodding her head as she agreed. "I ... I'd like that."

Monica took a deep breath before speaking again, her voice no longer as cheerful anymore, in fact it was a bit melancholy, "Will the other Wickeds trust me? Like you did?" She looked down at her feet, her head sunken, anyone who didn't know her would have thought she was depressed, but Monica often hung her head like this, if you look down and avoid eye contact you cannot be let down. "What if, they hate me like everyone else?" she asked softly as tears formed in her eyes. She was terrified of Mercy's response, on one hand she had just made her first friend, but on the other she could just be setting herself up for more sadness by getting her hopes up. Without hearing Mercy's reply she decided to herself that going with her would be for the best, but it would be a good idea not to expect too much out of the other Wickeds, she should just be happy that she has made one friend, one is enough.

Monica looked back up at Mercy. "Thank you" she said calmly, "Thank you for everything, if not for you I'd be dead." Monica paused for a bit before continuing, trying to gain the courage to say aloud the words she knew she had to say. "I ... I was in this warehouse, letting my powers run wild like that ... because ... " Monica's courage faltered for a moment and she inhaled sharply trying to hold back the tears, she bit her cheek before continuing. " Because I was trying to kill myself." Monica sighed glad that she had finally said it but she was wary of the conversation that was to follow. "It's not like I wanted to die, more I just thought the world would be better off without me, but maybe, maybe with your support I can find a way to live happily. So I guess thank you again." Monica said putting a big phony smile on her face hoping that Mercy wouldn't question her too much about this, as she was suddenly much more aware of the scars running up and down her arm as all the commotion had torn the sleeves of her shirt to shreds and it no longer covered her wrists.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Monica Crawford Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Byte
Image

Mercy merely nodded to at least assure little Monica that everything would work out. Regardless, it would be unnatural for the veteran wicked to worry about off-chances. Still this was Morgan she was doubting, and she just didn't quite see the man doing such a heartless thing. Heck, and if he did Mercy would get right back at him. 'Eat that asshole!' or some crap retort before promptly leaving the Wicked Ones behind. Okay, okay. It wouldn't be that easy, but the woman would certainly doubt her affiliation at that stage.

“Hey, don't look so gloom. I'll vouch for you.” She stated matter of factly, offering the still somewhat depressive teen a smile. Not that she'd blame Monica for not smiling an awful lot, Mercy didn't expect an immediate cheer radiating from the girl as soon as she offered her friendship. Shit! That'd be creepy as fuck, and probably result in the opposite. 'Smile and wave, smile and wave, right?', right. (thinking about it, it was eerie how she was willingly throwing herself off a cliff for a complete stranger. The things we do for people we can empathise with, eh?)

Approaching the remaining Wicks, Mercy hastily beckoned for them to follow her. Their job was done, mission accomplished. Actually, double accomplished on her part. “Let's grab Mei and get the fuck out. I'll bet Morgan is twiddling his thumbs as we speak, ha.” Poor attempt at comedy.

Navigating the group to the sniper's vantage point, Mercy caught the soft whisper of her newest friend, which prompted her to slouch a bit in order to hear Monica's words. (she did whisper an awful lot, didn't she?) The poor girl...

“No worries, right? I'll help however I can, and so will the others. Right guys?” Mercy gave the two fellas a rather... ominous glance, a cold and intimidating stare as if she dared them to even utter something remotely stupid.

Not long after, Mercy asked Joe to get Mei down on ground-level and with the entire group, plus one, back together the wicked woman led them back to the base. She couldn't wait to get a good night's rest...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Monica Crawford Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny

Earnings

0.00 INK

Mei


The young girl snickered a bit at Joe’s words. “Thanks Joe. Hey where do you think you’re going?” Attempting to stand, Mei watched in horror as Joe jumped off the ledge of the roof, only to pop back up. A look of confusion crossed her face then relief and irritation. “You goddam idiot.” Her eyes followed Joes ascent and soon enough his descent but that point Mei was once again reminded of her bat shit crazy friend’s resiliency.

Focusing her attention back at the battle, she peered through her scope and watched closely. They kept moving around too much for her to get a particularly clean shot and then Joe entered the fray. “Tch. You’re in the way Joe. Either take him down or step back and let me do it.” Her eyes widened slightly upon seeing the Other being impaled by Joes energy sword but even more so when that other kid shoot the damn thing, execution style. A growl escaped her lips and Mei brought her up so that it no longer pointed at the fighting area. They did finish their mission, well something of their mission. The fact that they killed the Other in such a way didn’t quite sit well with Mei. She wasn’t one to play with her targets, always going for a clean and quick shot.

She finally stood after packing her anti-tank rifle into the large case she brought it in earlier. The young girl hated the fact that she wasn’t able to get a clear shot, even with her ability. The Other and whoever it was that was fighting it kept getting in the way. Still a bit angry she stormed down the stairway and burst out of the building. She glanced around for her fellow Wickeds and saw them not to far, and they were heading her way. It was quite obvious by her demeanor that she wasn’t quite happy.

With a frown she joined her motely group of Wickeds. Turning her attention to Joe, the small girl glared at him before suddenly kicking him in the leg. “That’s for jumping off the roof and nearly giving me a heart attack.” Mei adjusted the strap of the gun case and walked a bit ahead when she realized there was a new face. Still with the glare, she looked at the girl and almost at once her expression softened. “Oh hello.” Then turning her attention to Mercy, Mei looked around her. “Hey where did that other guy go?” sending another glare at Joe. After all had been said, Mei followed Mercy back home.

Some time later


For the most part Mei was still a bit upset but she had cooled down, so Joe didn’t have to worry about being kicked again. When they had arrived at their home, they were greeted by a group of the other Wickeds who had stood sentry to their now destroyed entry way. Mei walked up to the busted down false wall carefully running her hand along the edges. ‘Whoa. What happened here?” She looked to one of the Wickeds who stood just inside the entry way. “From what I’ve been told Cain came back. It seems one of his familiars tore the door down to get him to the infirmary.” Mei glanced over at Mercy and Joe with a look of worry. The Wicked noticed Mei’s concern and smiled at her reassuringly, “Don’t worry he’s fine now. I think he’s resting at the moment.” She nodded, biting her lip.

If Cain was resting it’d be rude of her if she went and disturbed him. “Okay. Well I’ll be in my room if anyone needs me.” Soon enough the small girl was bounding up the stairs and out of sight.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Monica Crawford Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny Character Portrait: Mal Larson

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Damioa
Joe B.


It seemed that once again, Joe had found himself in a situation where he wasn't on the same page as the people around him. Instead of looking relieved for backup, it seemed like he was actually bothering the boy who traded places with him in combat. Still, he couldn't help but grin at the mans direction. His skills and agility were something anyone who was a fan of fighting would enjoy watching.

"Get useful or get gone! This isn't a game!"

Joe's grin slightly diminished as he was feeling kind weird by getting yelled at. He was wondering if the guy wanted him to kill the thing. As the fight continued, the wondering thoughts all confirmed where the mans anger was coming from. It was definitely something Joe didn't feel like explaining, but he didn't want to kill the other, nor did he want it dead. However, it wasn't like his reasons for those thoughts were enough to make him care deeply about the other getting a bullet in its head. In fact, when the roaring sound of gunfire popped through the outside area, echoing like fourth of July poppers, a subtle reminder of something important ran through his mind. Weighing now on his shoulders, his bright and open day time demeanor changed into his more laid back one. Usually when his personality changed to this mode, he was spent on energy or thinking about something.

He walked up to the man who seemed to be murmuring something to the corpse before addressing Joe.

"Malice, I have watched your group for some time. Next time you fight an Other, don't play games, taunting is for tactical reasons not for sport, they're a living thing and if you can't subdue their powers then make it quick..."

In an instant, Joe lost all track of what he was thinking about and blankly stared at Malice who had given him his name, a lecture, and maybe some good fighting advise for the future. Deep down, Joe wanted to say that he was trying not to kill it to see if it could calm down, but he decided against it. It was better to save time then to ask questions and besides, it wasn't the only reason. Nodding at the guy until he walked away, Joe looked in Shadows direction, making sure the boy was okay before following.

The next few things that happened breezed past as it seemed everything was wrapping up. That was until, Something seemed to be wrong with the girl who was there before them. He really hoped she wasn't going to turn into an other, but if she did... He didn't want to think about it. To his relief, she calmed down and things seemed to be wrapping up again. The girl seemed to be coming out with her feelings as she felt comfortable enough to tell them about why she was there. Joe's eyes narrowed for a second before relaxing. He didn't want to remember that this part of the day happened and he had his own reasons. In fact, the whole day was looking like a sucky one.

Heads so far in the cloud of his own though, he didn't even see a ticked off Mei walking in his direction. With a sharp feeling of pain in his leg hes jumped back and yelped, mostly from the surprise.

“That’s for jumping off the roof and nearly giving me a heart attack.”

"Oh... Hehe. I'm sorry," he chuckled trying to seem innocent.

Joe looked off and around thinking that soon would be a good time to leave. There was a lot of noise, and anytime there was gunfire, good ole LAPD was sure to be close by. "Well, I don't know what you guys have planned from now, but since we're done with what we need to do we should leave. I have some stuff to take care of so I'll see you guys later."

Raising his hand in a quick gesture of passing, Joe turned around and ran away from the group. In his hand he make a disc out of his own energy and through it in front of him, timing his jump at the same time so that his landing was perfect on it and high enough off the ground to keep it moving. Picking up speed, he boosted in the sky, looking at first to see if any cops were around the area yet. They should be good for now,' he thought to himself and continued surfing through the air, headed in the direction of one of the cities deepest areas.

It took about ten minutes of flying, but soon he was able to land and walk the rest of the way to his destination. On his way he passed by dozens of connected houses and apartment complexes, each with their own set of urban art to take away from the fact that some areas in this city were so bland. Even the door to his friends house was sprayed on. He sighed, moving his earphones from his head to his neck and knocked on the door.

The door opened slightly, held back by the chain in the door and a pair of eyes peeked out to investigate who was knocking. Though, the reaction the person had wasn't the one Joe wanted as he slammed the door in his face.

"What the hell?" Joe looked around, checking for cops and spit on the ground. "Hey. I'm all alone out here. It's okay to let me in." A few moments went by and Joe realized his patience was growing thin. He put his hands on the door and blew most of it off the hinges. Though he instantly regretted it. Greeting him at the entrance was the muzzle of over a dozen guns. There was really no point in counting since he didn't care for guns. He just wanted what he was there for.

"Listen, you guys make around one to three hundred all as a group on a monthly basses right?" He asked, stepping back a little.

However, to his surprise, these group of guys weren't ones to talk and faster than he could think about it, bullets were hitting the wall he put up to guard himself. It wasn't funny at first, but he couldn't help it. Laughter burst out of him like jack in the box of his lungs. In all the sound shattering blast of gunfire, his laughs could still be heard. The more they shot the more he laughed. He decided it was definitely their faces. No, it was the fact they thought they were tough with the guns in their hands. No, wait, he had to say it was definitely the fact that he was laughing at all the above while getting shot at. Of course he looked back on the horrible thought that these fools would kill someone all for some dope, but all was fair when you had powers like him.

Click, Click, Click.

There was clicking all around, but no more bullet fire to be heard. Like music to his ears, Joe went from laughing to grinning. "Seriously. All I want is some weed man. You know what I mean?" Joe stepped closer as he talked and the men aroud him moved back, probably still trying to answer for themselves how he was still alive. "You should know. You guys go around angry everyday right? Living that quote on quote, hard life? I feel for you and respect your craft. So respect the fact that if I don't get what I want, I also get violent."

As he spoke, his grin didn't waver, but his voice became more and more aggressive. He almost let a little bit of his true self out, but was luckily able to contain it, save for a few screams, broken property and limbs, but he didn't kill anybody so it was a good visit.

"Thanks guys," he waved smelling his bag. "Maybe next time you guys will learn to hide it. So tire of coming to the same location for the same fight. Oh yeah, any of you try to shoot me in the street, which is pretty dumb, I'll come back and level everything living and other on this street. Okay? Bye!!!!"

In his possession he currently had half a dozen pounds of Marijuana on his person. It was definitely something someone would have to call too much to use and if he took it home, everyone would find out that he smokes and then he'd have to tell them why, or something stupid. That and the dumb conversation that would come from his reasoning behind doing it would be unbearable. That and the sappiness that was probably bound to happen. Either that or everyone would be okay with it, but it was better if they just didn't know.

"Besides, the least they know about why I do the things that I do, the better."

With the wind hitting his face, Joe looked down, looking over the fields miles away from the city. Many of the fields were beautiful and had their own colors from plants, trees, and animal life. One of the fields was a field of something that had to do with growing one thing and one thing only. Marijuana. It was a fairly new thing if you judge by the age of the farms around it, and it was also something the owner faced problems with. Whether it be that of the law or that of the city rough necks who would come and steal the stuff to try to make a profit, the guy sure had hands tied up.

"Thanks a ton Joe," the man said with a smile, taking all but one of the bags Joe had in his possession.

"I came back with so little though. I was sure they had everything there, but I guess they weren't the only ones who hit you this time. I honestly hate how repetitive they're being."

The man, who Joe refereed to mostly as Dr. Flemmings laughed and set his merchandise down. "People of every standing like doing what they know is safe. When those boys come here, I don't call the cops and the only one who comes after them is you. I reckon they like you more than the cops."

"Yeah... They didn't use to like me before."

"That's neither here are there. We're not the people we were before, we're who we are currently, so you're going to have to face the fact that you're actually a gentler person. . . More so than the cops."

Joe glanced at the good Doctor before turning around. "Hehe. Well, before we go back into our old habits for I talk you listen then you explain my thoughts to me, I think I should be going."

"Hehe. Okay then. Still, know anytime you wanna talk..."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry, I wont need to. Peace out Doc."

As Joe rushed off back to the air he wondered if the doctor got any dust in his face from the takeoff. The young man didn't usually start flight in front of someone's face, but that guy was a handful. It seemed every chance he had would be taken to talk to Joe about his feelings. The guy was really creepy and, to make matters worse, he wasn't technically a doctor anymore. Though he was the only person who would help the man out and vice verse, so for the time being staying in contact with him was something he could live with.

Another thing he could live with was putting the day behind him. He got shot at without being able to finish his joke, made to look uncool by a cool person and had an other die when he didn't want it to, though that was just the cherry on the cake. However, it wasn't as if good things didn't happen either. He got to fly around different parts of town, met a lot of people, got to fight twice, and also got a refill. Not to mention, no one was on the roof, so he got to smoke as soon as he got back home.

"Man," he said looking at the moon. "This was actually a really good day huh. Yeah. Definitely one hell of an awesome day." With that said, it wasn't long before he fell asleep, drained from all the days excitement.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Monica Crawford Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny Character Portrait: Timothy Jeromeo Character Portrait: Huey St. Portus Character Portrait: Gemma Morrow Character Portrait: Mal Larson

Earnings

0.00 INK

A Summary of Events


It had only been yesterday since the Wickeds had accepted more into their ranks. However whether they really planned to stay was up to them, the Wickeds leader, Morgan, was the kind to force others into his group. He let them stay for however long they wanted to and if they were satisfied by how life was as a Wicked then they were more than welcome to become an official member. What was supposed to be a simple investigation turned into a nasty fight with a different Other than the one they were told to look into.

The arrival of new members wasn’t the only thing that had occurred the other day, one of their veterans, Morgan’s right hand man, had returned but in the worst way possible. He had lost nearly all of his familiars but with when he was suddenly engulfed in purple fire he was alright. Esme healed him until there was nothing left to be healed. Not only was Cain healed but Gemma’s charge as well. The kid had yet to wake up but that was to be expected with his wounds. Cain was still resting after his ordeal on Morgan’s orders.

~ ~ ~ ~


A Few Weeks Later
Elsewhere


The light was so, so very bright; too bright to open your eyes all the way and most certainly too white to be considered natural. He wanted to see where he was but he felt in unsurmountable pain behind his eyes. Grinding his teeth, he decided to try squinting while looking down instead of upwards. Even this was painful but by continuously blinking he was able to get his eyes to somewhat adjust to the light. He quickly found out the reason as to why it was so bright. The walls were painted white from what little he saw of them for the majority of the room was covered by large mirrors. Just from seeing so little, his head began to throb. With all the mirrors facing each other, they created an endless illusion to the point where he couldn’t tell how big the room was.

Suddenly a figure appeared in his peripheral vision. Dark eyes darted to the figures location but in doing so he opened his eyes too wide. The most rhythmic of throbbing came about and he soon regretted ever trying to see who had entered the room. At first he had thought there was only one other person in the room but he soon realized that there was one other person. It was strange, the sound the second person made. It was as if they were sliding across the floor and he couldn’t feel their movements like he did with the other fellow. Then he realized from the occasional squeak and the final click that this person wasn’t walking, they were being pulled in what he assumed was a wheelchair.

“This is the young man I was telling you about. He was so brave as to volunteer to help us out.” The young man on the table felt a chill caress his body and he shivered at the word choice the man used. He didn’t come close to volunteering for whatever the hell this was. They just came out of nowhere as soon as he locked the door to his apartment. Hands grabbed him, pulling something heavy over his head and then tying something over his mouth to muffle his screaming. Those karate lessons proved worthless by the end of the struggle and he blacked out from being shocked heavily. The young man truly wished he could speak his mind and tell this person that he didn’t want to be there, to protest against his claim but oddly enough his mouth felt heavy and he couldn’t move it. They must have drugged him with something otherwise he would’ve ditched this whole damn place from the moment he woke up.

In response to the man’s proclamation, there was a grunt of some sort and then what sounded like whispers. Despite being so close to the pair, the young man couldn’t hear a single thing. From what he could glean from it the whispers sounded feminine but he wasn’t too sure. Suddenly cold fingers prodded his side and he jumped. Someone giggled and this time for sure they sounded like a girl. The very same hand pulled at his shirt and began to cut away at it. Clenching his teeth, the young man could feel his body tensing in utter fear. He couldn’t see a single thing of what they were doing to him other than taking his clothes off. He could hear the snip of the scissors and feel it brush against his skin. Eventually they finished and the throbbing died down to a dull ache but a bearable one. In realizing this, the young man thought of opening his eyes. Whatever drug they had given him had finally begun to wear off. He could tell since he fluttered his eyes and the light wasn’t as hurtful as it had been at the beginning.

Come on Anthony you can do this. Just look at him and burn him to hell, but he knew he’d have to wait until he was sure the guy was directly over him and the drug had worn off a little more. So Anthony waited, he waited until right after he felt the needles go into his arms and finally opened them when those hands pressed against his head to turn it a certain way. Those dark eyes snapped open, staring up at pale pink eyes with such an intensity they could burn and burn they almost did. The drug was still in his system so instead of burning his kidnapper’s eyes out Anthony began to burn the table. The pink eyed man jumped back, rubbing at his own eyes but was quick to get back up. Fishing around in his lab coats pocket, he produced a syringe and thrust it into Anthony’s arm.

Anthony yelled out and struggled until he could struggle no more against the drug. After his body had finally ceased moving and was perfectly still, save for the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the pink eyed man pulled a hand through his unruly hair. He let out a sigh and chuckled, turning his attention to the small woman who sat in the wheelchair. “I sincerely apologize for that Odette. We were sure that the drug would keep him under for another hour.” He gently laid his hand on the woman’s shoulder and began to push her chair to a location on the wall. Opening the door, he pushed her chair out into the hallway where another pair of hands took her.

The man walked back to where Anthony slept and loomed over his body. He leaned down close to his ear, his grip on the boy’s shoulders tight. “I know you probably can’t hear me but next time you embarrass me in front of my beloved Odette and I’ll skin you alive.” His words dripped with pure venom. As if Anthony heard and felt this strange man’s words, his body jerked and the man chuckled darkly before finally leaving the room himself.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Monica Crawford Character Portrait: Huey St. Portus Character Portrait: Gemma Morrow

Earnings

0.00 INK

Elsewhere


They had been working at this for hours and still bore no results, at least not ones they wanted. From a bird’s eye view the room was rather large. Large mirrors were mounted on all four white walls, including the ceiling and the floor. At the center of the room stood a single table; its occupant hooked up to various machines. A door then opened to the right, forming a brief rectangle of varying colors before a young man with light pink hair entered the room and closed the door behind him. His stride was graceful and full with a confidence that practically oozed off his pinstripe suit. The pink haired man stood next to Anthony who was still bound to the table. One could see that there were scorch marks on the table that outlined the young man’s body. He was a living flame thrower in that manner. Salmon orbs inspected Anthony’s body, reflecting on the results of his tests. Nothing else mattered but the results.

“Dr. Blaire. It’s time.” He snapped back to reality and the sound of a constant beep disturbed the silence of the room, or maybe it had never been silent and he just didn’t notice it before. Dr. Blaire turned around to see a young woman standing behind him with her hands stuffed in her pockets. “Ah yes.” he gave her a sheepish smile and turned back to Anthony’s still body. Plucking the various wires from the cold shell, Dr. Blaire began to think of who he’d like to test next. “How many subjects do we have left Ana?” She looked down at the plain clipboard eyes scanning the list of names that had been crossed out. There were a total of twenty overall and there were only two names left that weren’t crossed out. “We have two left. Should we be thinking of getting more?” Dr. Blaire took the clipboard from her to see what the last two subjects were like before answering her question. “Yes. I believe we should. “

~ ~ ~


Morgan


The sound of people running woke him. For the briefest of moments Morgan forgot he was home and sat up quickly. Then the muffled waves of laughter echoed in the hallway. “Ugh to early.” He rubbed his eyes and combed his hair with his fingers, no doubt messing up his bed head even more. Morgan looked at his nightstand eyes glancing at the digital clock nestled between various papers and a lamp. It was almost noon which was surprising as he normally woke up earlier. He fell back into his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Reaching out to the nightstand, his hand groped around for his glasses until they found them. Putting them on, Morgan sighed and finally got out of bed.

Stepping out of his room, Morgan stretched a bit before heading off to the kitchen for some food. As he walked down the halls of his home, Morgan knocked on a few doors to notify him entering. There were only a few he wanted to check up like Gemma, Huey and Monica. He went to Gemma’s first then Hueys and finally he got to Monica’s. He stood in front of her door for a while. He still hadn’t quite wrapped his head around her ability but he wasn’t in any position to judge her considering his own. Rubbing his eyes again, Morgan knocked on her door “I’m coming in.” He waited for a couple of minutes then opened the door. The young man peered into her room and upon not seeing her there he closed the door and went to the kitchen.

There wasn’t much food left from that morning so he made due with a sandwich. While he munched on that, Morgan sat down in the Wicked’s “lounge” room. It wasn’t much to be honest. Morgan and few others had supplied the large open room with a bunch of mismatched chairs, sofas and a couple coffee tables. He sat in a large chair with quite the look. It was covered in bright orange polka dots set against black. Morgan had found it at a garage sale and seeing as it was one of the few pieces of furniture he could buy at the beginning. He noticed a pile of old newspapers but after taken a good look he saw that one was from the other day. “Hm let’s see what they had to say.” Shaking it open, Morgan looked through the articles but none of them interested him until he got to one of the last pages.

It wasn’t as much as the subject that interested him but rather the face next to it. A young man by the name of Anthony had gone missing. However the idea of him going missing despite his abilities was strange. He was not only able to manipulate fire but could conjure it as well. Then again he could have just dropped off the map as well so it was best that he didn’t jump to conclusions.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Timothy Jeromeo

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Damioa
Timothy Jeromeo


In the midst of it all, at least for one, there was nothing but darkness. Darkness and the sound of drums paddling and voices whispering. Along with the sounds, the heaviness of the body would leave one to believe he was about to die awake, but asleep at the same time. Able to hear the outside, but not able to call for them. There was no matter of time in this new found hell of his. As far as he was concerned, he should have died from hunger ages ago. No, hunger was the least of his problems. With a mouth as dry as sand in the Sahara, he was sure he must've been fully dry. Though, as always, once he felt he was truly about to pass on to whatever he deserved, he was able to open his eyes. It was still dark, but he could tell-no, feel the movements. Not only that, but the cold air drafting in, the moist coolness of the floor, and the pain from not having moved his bones.
He made it to his feet with just a little more effort than normal, and checked to see if he was in one piece. "Hmm. . . I'm not really hurt huh? I really have to stop exaggerating. Must just be this California air. Yeah. Can't say it's as bad as home, but it must've been the burrito. Hehe. Karma."
The boy tried to play it off. He didn't want to have to deal with it. Though, through the blanket of the moonlight he had no choice but to remember the power that person had. There were several small life forms from animals to insects scattered about and the smell of death had remained. Not only that, but she was able to take him out without having to move.
"Well whatever," he said walking around to one of the exits. "She didn't kill me, so I should be thankful I guess. However," his eyes wandered around to the holes in the side and top of the building. "Judging by the new look of this place I'd say there was a fight. Yeah. More people were here and they're not anymore. They were here..... and they left me? What the hell!!?!?"
He crossed his arms thinking about how people just left him for dead. "So, California's not as innocent as I took it for huh? No problem. I'll just..."
The sound of sirens suddenly popped in his ears. It was sudden and they weren't far away. Almost as if the cops were actually smart about going to a destination where they might find a suspect. Unluckily, the suspect was only going to be one person, the one left in the room. Tim.
The boy tried to find someplace to run or hide, but he couldn't see any good paths of escape. In truth, there was only one thing to do. He outstretched his hand and attempted to gather enough substance to activate his power, but that was all it was. Seemed he hadn't fully recovered yet from whatever had knocked him out. It didn't look good. Without his power he was just a normal person. He could probably take a couple good shots, but he wouldn't be able to protect his organs. It was something really. He couldn't tell what it was, but it was definitely something. Smiling at the thought of having all these first in one day. His first loss, his first time getting caught, and for the first time in his life it wasn't really his fault. He raised his hands and dropped to his knees. The smile disappeared from his face as soon as the cops arrived to avoid unneeded suspicion, but he was feeling butterflies unlike any he'd ever felt before. It was a sort of maniacal excitement, but it was okay. He liked the feeling of adding fuel to the fire burning in his chest and the anger boiled within, but he didn't show it presently. The time would come. This he promised himself. He'd show the whole city that he wasn't going to be ignored. If there were people who were strong out there fighting each other for whatever reason, then the money must have been good too. However, he would worry about that later. As soon as he could figure out how to get out of jail.


During the three days of processing, Timothy was interrogated about poisoning animals and playing with explosives. He was a kid with a pretty clean record thanks to his powers making his hair flare and his features change. The change is minor, but no one ever gets a good look at him so it's kept him safe thus far. He wasn't even accused of being a mutant, though someone asked him if he had seen any freaks. Tim mentioned he passed out probably from something in the air and the detectives were forced to get him a blood test along with one of the dead animals. He said he wouldn't talk until then. Big mistake.

Within four days, Tim was sent to Twin Towers Correction Facility. A jail that use to only hold crimes of the short time and mental patients ranging from war vets to the homeless. Now it's a place for hardened criminals and the like, but at least there wouldn't be any powers being thrown left and right to worry about. Bad mutants that get caught get sent to places where they usually don't return. Mostly because they do major crimes when that happens. Tim knew he would have to be smart about how he carried himself.

Bang... Bang... Bang... Bang... Bang...
The steady sound of his fist diving into the face of a slightly bigger inmate could be heard as if he was purposefully making a rhythm out of it. It didn't take long for the man to slow his breathing and Timothy let him go, sprawling to the floor so that he wouldn't get tackled by over motivated officers, even though they still managed to jump on him and hit him a few times. Once they were done having their fun, he was taken to the upper level, to meet the warden of that department. He found it strange that it was still labeled with the signs and warnings of a mental ward. He was sure the detective told him he'd just be with normal prisoners.
"What's up with this? I was told this wasn't a mental ward anymore."
One of the officers looked back at him and shook his head. "It's not."
"Then why do they still have the suicide watch and mental patient lookout signs?"
"You'd have to ask one of the men who work up here. We each stay on our respective floors."

Tim hadn't heard of a jail like that before, but his only thing was juvie and that didn't count. He wished this didn't count either, even though he knew that was never going to be granted unless he wanted both his persona's to be on the run. At least he could rely on the blood tests. Hopefully it wouldn't take long.

Finally the men dropped him off at the security door and he was picked up by two other men wearing the same uniform. Though they didn't look inviting to him, Tim didn't see any difference between the cops on this floor and the ones on the others. He wondered how the prisoners were. Though he didn't mind getting into another fight.
"Follow me," one of the officers said, leaving the other to trail behind Tim. The three of them went into another security opening and the front officer grabbed a box and threw it on the ground while the other walked past him to go to another room.
"Take that box. Grab one blanket, one toothbrush, and one roll of toilet paper. If I were you I'd make good use of that because we don't give out a lot of toilet paper and we also don't give out pillows."

Tim tried to keep his eyes away from the man. His voice was deep and dominant. Almost like he was ex military himself. Though he couldn't help but to make eye contact once he was handed his items. Just as he thought. The officer was almost looking down on him, judging him with his eyes. As if he had the right to judge. Not only was he a mere human, but Tim could end his life faster than his mother spent beginning it. 'No dude. Calm down. We don't need to do this. We don't lose it, we use it.'
He sighed to let go of the feeling and shrugged looking down at his box to see that there was a pill on top of his blanket.
"What's this," he asked.
"All patients of floor seven are required to take their meds." Once again the officers tone was deep and commanding, but it wasn't loud. Though, it wasn't like it mattered how he said it, there wasn't a need to take his meds because he had no meds prescribed to him.

"Come on. I think this is a mistake, let me talk to the d--uughgh!!!"
In an instant, once again he was on the floor, now feeling his muscles having spasms. This time, he wasn't forced to pass out, but instead forced to take a pill. A pill which would send him into a stupor as fast as he swallowed. His last clear thought, was wondering what type of pill would affect him so quickly and why would he be forced to take it in jail.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny Character Portrait: Timothy Jeromeo Character Portrait: Gemma Morrow

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Damioa
Bang. Thumb. Crack.

"Uff."

"Shit. That's what you are Tim. You're worthless. Your mother couldn't even stand you which is why she left."

Tim was sprawled out on the floor. He was sure his jaw had broken this time from the man's fist and was feeling something inside of his chest that felt like fear. He was sure he was afraid; afraid and unable to move. It had to be the worse feeling he had ever felt in his whole ten years of life. Much worse than the constant beating he took on a weekly to a near daily basis. This helpless feeling, it came with extra feelings that would tear apart anyone from the inside out. The lump in that grew hollow in between his ribs, growing out to make his whole body feel empty. The fire that burned within his eyes, mouth, and the tips of his fingers. He wished everyday for nothing but the courage to kill that man. However, he wasn't sure what stopped him from doing it. If anything, Timothy believed it was his own personal weakness that prevented him from saving himself.

So it would continue on. Though the longer it continued, Tim grew more adjusted, placing the fire he was feeling in his joints and spread it through his walking corpse. He could never win, but he grew to the part where he could at least laugh at the man for not being able to down a nine year old. However, the beatings grew more severe with every second Tim remained standing, but he knew it was going to end sometime. It usually did. His father would get tired realizing that Tim didn't really do anything to piss him off enough to hurt his hand on the boys face and body anymore, commenting at times how it seemed the boys bones grew stronger every day, passing it up to puberty.

His father had a girlfriend, Sarah Cunnings. Like them, she also had Italian background. Like Tim, sometimes she would have to take the blunt of his father's drunken stupor. Especially the times when she tried to get the man off of his son and even some of the times he caught her patching the lad up. It had seemed, she was luckier than Tim. After all, she was an adult and had free roam of movement, so when she decided she had enough bags were packed and she was outside waiting for a cab. It seemed his father was going to let her go at first, but once he began drinking he was outside faster than the cab could pull up to the neighborhood. Though when he had her outside the house, Tim was able to push him off of her, throwing the man down the steps and allowing her to run somewhere and call the authorities. Most likely they wouldn't have done anything, for they had past experiences with the law, but Tim was sure that at least she'd get away.

The boy quickly ran inside the house, locking himself in his room. Being only ten at the time, he was unaware of any other options for him and he knew his father wasn't going to be in the best of moods by the time he returned up the stairs. Crawled into the bathroom not hearing or feeling any types of movements around him. Even after the sun fell and nothing but the street lights could be seen from the window on the bathroom wall, there was no word or creak. Eventually he began to feel the need for food and water, forcing him to crawl out of his hiding spot. Once he opened the door he could feel his throat clogging up and his breath being ceased by fear. His father had been sitting against the wall adjacent to the bathroom door. He had a full bottle of booze left next to a dozen empty bottles and began taken a swig from the half finished one in his hand.

His eyes were tired as they gazed at his son, but that may have been because his body was running on fumes. The man had drank himself past his normal limit. He had literally drank himself sober, though Tim was sure his new sober personality wasn't a nice one.

"T-... Ahem," His father's voice was raspy from hours of drinking without talking. "Timmy. Come here son."

Timothy was feeling that feeling again. A feeling he had thought he had gotten rid of. He knew this was it. Out of all the times his dad had beaten him, he'd never approach him so calmly.

"What's the matter? You feeling scared?" His father had gotten to his feet, picking up the full bottle. "Don't feel scared. You're all I got left. Your mother left, my girlfriend left...." Without finishing his sentence he took the half bottle of beer and handed it out to his ten year old son. "Here," he said giving a genuine smile. "You deserve this. Knocked your old man on his ass you did."

Tim didn't move from the bathroom opening. He didn't want to drink the same stuff that was making his father mad.

"Come on.....COME ON!!!! TAKE IT!!!"

With his dad falling back over the edge, Tim saw no choice, but to take his drink. He had never tasted beer before and when he placed his nose over the opening to smell it's aroma, he quickly moved his face away. "I can't... drink this..."

His stutters were heard by his father who sighed. "You know Tim. All I want is a strong son. A son who knows his place in the world like a real man should. You know what I got instead?"

CRASH!!!!

The sound of glass raining down on the floor along with drops of fluids red and piss colored sounded throughout the house as Tim was staggered back. The only thing he could hear was ringing in his ears and he felt as if he had just awoken from a feverish sleep. The lights were flashing around him as he tried to get a grip on reality. It was at this point that the boy had figured death wasn't far behind him.

Just as he thought, his father wasn't done. The man shoved him into the wall, giving him body shots and chocking the life out of him.

"I got a whiny little bitch who can't do anything for me. You see this Tim. You see the man your scared of. You mad him. This is all your," bang, "fucking," thump, "fault."

When all was said and done, Tim was on the floor, apparently beaten to death, with his dad cursing while walking into the other room presumably to get another drink. However, the man was stopped by a sound he wasn't expecting. Turning around to see what the boy was up to this time, he saw him beginning to stand on his feet. At first he was sure the boy was having a hard time, but after he was on his feet, Tim's body rose easily moving around as if trying to stretch out the pain. On top of that, he began cracking various parts of his body, seemingly mocking the man.

"Why you little shi...." His father stopped talking once Timothy turned around. The kid was actually smiling. Blood was running down his face, there was also the shine of glass which could have been lodged in his wound and he was only ten. Only a little baby still. Yet, he was smiling. His dad gritted his teeth, unaware of what he should do about it, let alone what he wanted to do. Though Tim began chuckling and then started laughing. He laughed until he had to cough and when he covered his mouth just to see that blood was coming with the cough he laughed some more.

"You.... You think I'm still scared after all this time. All I know is this," Tim said while licking the blood from his hand. "This taste, this feeling. It's not fear old man. It's excitement."

The walls started cracking around the house and this time it was Tim's father who was becoming afraid. He didn't know what in the world was going on, but he was sure his son was causing it.

"This IS EXCITING!!!!"

Tim had let his instincts completely take over the boy inside him and only thought of what he knew and his journey of learning. It all made sense, everything his father had done. He could understand now what the man had wanted and he was planning on giving it to him, tenfold.

The wall went from being cracked to bursting, sending debris everywhere. His father began to run for the door, but by the time he had approached the knob, the whole door shattered, staggering the man backwards on to his butt. He quickly got back up and picked up his bottle which still had beer left inside. "Fine. You want to challenge your old man. Then come on. What's stopping you?

Tim was too busy looking at his hand which had just been resting inside some kind of strange glove. He wasn't sure what it was, but it seemed like he had no way to back down now. Truth be told he probably didn't want to. Yeah, he was going to relish in the moment. He charged at his father, bursting through the dust and corrosion that use to be his hallway. He screamed as the roof started to cave and threw a punch at his father's jaw. His father reacted as if he had some type of boxing background, slipping out of the way just to pummel his son with a shot of blows to the face.

Tim only squinted at the round of punches, with each one landed, even though they had been harder than any he'd ever received before, he could feel the pain disappearing. With every hardy shot that came, the boy saw that he was becoming someone who couldn't be hurt by his father anymore. His grin formed and became more bestial and he began to want to show his father he had no power over him anymore. With the last punch he let his father throw, he allowed the man to reach his face and tightened his neck, giving the effect of hitting an unmovable object. He was sure the cracking sounds he heard this time weren't the ones of his own bones, but the bones of his father's hand. The man even gave a long agonizing grunt to go with it, which made Tim even hungrier to put the man in his place. His pawed hand grabbed his fathers forearm and he squeezed with all of his might, easily crushing the man's arm. This time the man's scream was more like a woman's. Tim would have thought it was if not for the raspy voice that echoed. The louder his father screamed, the more Tim realized he hated the man's voice.

He did the man a favor by letting go of his arm, but retracted the favor by kneeling and giving his leg a hard hook, bathing the floor in blood and leaving the man with his leg just hanging on for dear life.

With the man now screaming on the floor, Tim was able to get on top of him, keeping him in place by his throat.

"All this time. All this time I didn't know what it was like," he said in his power trance. "You gave me nothing but pain and heartache. You made me like this. . . No. You were trying to break my body. Break my spirit. The only thing you broke was my brain. That's okay. I want to thank you for it."

For minutes that flowed afterwards, Tim began beating his dad with his powerless hand wanting to feel the skin on skin contact. Though, since his body was evolving as well as whatever power he had he still had enough force to break his father's nose in his first hit and break his jaw in the third. He continued to cause irreparable damage to the man. It wasn't until his pleads for the boy to stop was muffled by gargles of blood and sirens from outside that he stopped. It's funny how people part ways. He felt as if he wouldn't have done it any other type of way.


Seven years later and he finds himself finally in jail for reasons that seemed to be zero. He was caged and once again forced to be reformed. However, he wasn't a human, but a beast in a human shell. Instincts had made the drugs ware off. His powers brought him back to reality, and even though he was caged, it was only a matter of time before he escaped.

"Sir. Sir look at this. After two weeks patient RN is finally awake."

"Huh... How's that possible these meds are supposed to work for a year without fail?"

"I'm not sure sir."

"What about his powers? Has he shown any sign of anything?"

"The patient still has shown zero signs of any powers."

"Well that makes zero sense. His blood test say he's one of those freaks."

"No, he seems to just be sitting in place at the time, but his posture changed and his breathing and heart rate are back to normal rating. . . There's one more thing sir."

"What's that?"

"Patient seems to be smiling."

"What?"

"It could be my imagination, but he seems to be hyping himself up. His heart rate keeps rising and dropping."

"Shut up," The bigger of the two men stood up and fixed his belt. "I'll go down there myself and see what's up with this two week kid. There must be something wrong with his dosage."
..........................................................................

"Huh?"

Joe found himself waking up, seemingly during the afternoon again. He was intending to sleep the day away, but it seemed like something was in the air. It was familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on what made it so. Though he imagined that the faint life of the corpse he had felt two weeks ago was finally trying to shine. He remembered going back a week before to check to see if any other bodies were around, but the warehouse was empty upon his arrival. The feds and emergency departments had already cleaned up what was there. "Figured that human body was still alive. Probably should have grabbed him before I left the scene."

The man got dressed writing a letter that said, "Hiya's. Lol... Do you even write LOL in an actual letter. Whatev's. Seriously though, that thing we were talking about before with the nature of our powers. Well I kinda did an experiment to see what would happen if I sent a normal person to jail, knowing that he would be sent to the seventh floor. You remember that one right, the one with the big guy who thinks he's one of those warden's off of the movies. Anyway, I'm a go get him now since his energy is feeling off. You might want to prepare a good sedative though. It's only been two weeks, but he's back to full condition and you know those meds are critical. So I'm a need yours to be more critical. Oh. Don't tell Morgan I let the kid get sent there and I'll let you do one test on me. ONE. . . Maybe."

After writing the letter he left his room and placed it underneath Gemma's door. He decided it probably wouldn't be a good idea to go down the steps since he could feel someone's energy down there, so he just hopped out of his window flying on his energy made platform. He still wanted to see the results of his own experiment, but wasn't sure exactly how he was going to go about doing both that and saving the kid from becoming an Other. Still, he knew he could just blow everything up if push came to shove.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Aleksej Kovac

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Byte
|| Aleksej Kovac ||

Now look, I ain't sayin' I'm a saint. Y'know, humans think I'm an abominable creation of sin, other mutants think I'm nothing but a troublemaker; a pest that worsens our street cred. Pssh... As if either of us have got even that much. No biggie, though. I just do what I think is right, just like every self-proclaimed vigilante – the dusty street samurai. And now I'm here looking for the Wicked Ones. Strange world we live in, eh?

Now there are many who'd cry murder in the face of anxiety, and perhaps Aleksej would've done the same were it not that... well, they weren't really friends, but at the very least neither her or the Wicked Ones would hold a knife to the other's throat. Funnily enough, though, despite their differences in doing things, both parties wanted to see the world in a better light. The only compelling argument against it? Heh, Aleksej wasn't exactly subtlety itself, was she. In a nonchalant strut the dubious Otherkind stormed the Wicked Ones gate without so much as a gulp, grinning wildly in the face of the two poor little fellas who'd been ordered to keep watch on the door (if hanging around the door constitutes standing watch).

“So, what's the password? 'Open Sesame'?” The jest was not received with gratitude to say the least, and the sluggish growl coming from one of the glorified guard dogs only served to increase Aleks' nonchalant attitude on hostile grounds. “C'mon, that was a good joke. Can't you lads at least acknowledge that? How dull y'all are...”

“What do you want.” The other stated matter of factly.

“To see the Boss-man. Heard he's good at fixing problems, and I happen to have one in dire need of a new pair of socks.” Again, the Otherkind flashed a grin, receiving little else but another unison scowl as she was reluctantly allowed inside. Once inside, Aleksej almost blindly managed to navigate her way through the Wicked Ones base. Almost as if she had seen it many times before this unexpected visit, receiving similar glances from wary mutants in the hallway, and it wouldn't be long until she found the only person of interest available at present. “Could do with a new set of watchdogs, no? These ones aren't exactly home-bred, methinks.” The woman flashed the Wicked leader a smug-filled grin before stepping closer into the kitchen.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Aleksej Kovac

Earnings

0.00 INK

Morgan


He hadn’t been sitting long when he heard a slight commotion at where he assumed was coming from the main entrance. Shrugging his shoulders, Morgan went back to eating his breakfast and reading the old newspaper. Other than finding that Anthony was missing there was little else in the damn paper that caught his eye. “Man can’t there ever be something good in these papers?” He muttered to himself. Morgan finished the last of his sandwich and set the plate and its crumbs to the side.

Looking around quickly, he took note that no one was around. Morgan took off his glasses to wipe them clean. “Could do with a new set of watchdogs, no? These ones aren't exactly home-bred, methinks.” The boss man nearly jumped at the unexpected voice, dropping his glasses in the process. “Shit! Aleksej?” Morgan shut his eyes closed and brought the newspaper up in front of his face. Hopefully he could find his glasses without looking at the Other.

Morgan cleared his throat and flicked the newspaper so it stood upright. “You’re not the only one to have said that. Any way. What brings you to my humble abode?” It wasn’t exactly routine for the Other to come by as she rarely did these days. He kept looking for his glasses and finally found them halfway under the coffee table. Grumbling to himself he put the newspaper down and closed his eyes as his hand blindly searched for where he assumed they were.

Finally feeling its cold frame Morgan sat up and placed the glasses over his face. Rubbing his eyes quickly, he looked up at Aleksej and grinned at her. “You can sit if you want.” He motioned to the other available seats around him.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Timothy Jeromeo

Earnings

0.00 INK

#, as written by Damioa
Timothy opened his eyes to the lone darkness of his cell. With the cold air and aggravation from the smooth cemented floor, only the smell of the walls, with their moist forest scent, gave him any type of closure. It wasn't enough. At least not enough to bring in the vibe of complacency that one would need to want to call it home. With the lack of a hearing, there was only one true way towards freedom. Today was as good as day as any, if any would ever come without his resolve. The young man wanted to rest and wait his sentence out, but by the current time he was aware that there wasn't a sentence to begin with. He was held there. Against his will, he was forced drugs that would make him powerless, the first dose leaving his legs numb. If anything he was lucky. For him, drugs given on a regular bases held no long lasting effects. Mixed with the current of adrenaline that was rushing through his veins almost forcing them to explode, his bodies durability was kicking in and his immune system was following suit, allowing him to stand on his legs for the first time in days. He leaned against the wall, feeling the dizziness swell from his head all the way down to his toes, his body slowly trying to feel normal again.
Glaring at the closed door in front of him, Tim moved his hand, pointing it in its direction to absorb the doors matter. Just as he was about to focus, the door opened and a burly man stepped through the opening. As his eyes focused, the mans clothing came into view, revealing he was not just an officer in the prison, but, judging by his different apparel, he was most likely a high ranking member of the guard force. The man walked in with a water bottle in his hand, guzzling it down as if he hadn't drank anything for weeks.

Throwing the bottle on the ground, the husky mammoth of a man, burped and spat on the floor in Tims direction. The grin that formed on his face was just as ominous as the situation and Tim reacted with wide smile of his own. "You the welcoming comity? Really like the suite, but I'd rather have the penthouse. There's no view here."

The mans grin diminished for a second as he spat on the floor, which was beginning to leave the smell of rubbing alcohol in the small box of a room. "Patient seems to be expressing signs of clarity even though the doses have been given. Extreme measures will now be taken."

Tim looked around to see if there was another person with the man, but it seemed he was talking to himself. Feeling the man to be insane, Tim began walking towards the door, but by the time he crossed the mans path, he was forced a few feet back. The punch was almost good enough knock him out within his dazed state of mind. On impulse, the young man crawled back to his feet and lunged at the man, who was laughing that a small guy like him would try to tackle him. However, Tim's goal wasn't to attack, but to swoop around the man. He succeed in switching position from the mans front to his back and could have made his way to the door. Then again he also could have kept the fight going, which is what he decided to do since the giant had the odasity to hit him. Since the guy was so sure of his size over Tim's he wasn't postured to stay balance on the floor, giving the boy the opportunity to pull him off the ground. Suplexing him to the ground, Tim got up and spit on the ground, just missing the man saying, "You didn't even know who you were messin with," while shaking his head in disappointment.

He stepped outside his cell able to fully stretch out and breath some fresh air, even though it was inside of a closed room. Still, it was better than the small box they had him sleeping in. His eyes adjusted to the light around the facility only to see a few dozen men pointing guns at him from a far distance and when he looked around, Tim realized that these men were covering all points of exit. He sighed, realizing that his escape wouldn't come easy, but suddenly began laughing. "So, this is what jail is like. What a challenge," he said to himself.
There was a railing in front of him that led to the lower floors and though there were also guards watching the bottom entrances too, Tim had an idea. One which he had no choice but to test. He climbed the two bars on the railing and spread out his arms in a sacrificial style, leaning over to fall face first into the ground. He fell two flights down, breaking off pieces of the cemented lined walls. Everyone below had made way for his inevitable decent which wasn't going to be pretty, though they hadn't taken their muzzles off of him. Unluckily for them, they hadn't witnessed the bods power before and were pushed back by the shock wave his fall created.

Tim, who had already summoned his lions paw, pounded off of the ground shooting into the sky ready to demolish the ceiling. Letting go of one of the charges on his back, he began to soar upwards at breakneck speed. It was too easy to tell the truth and he was a little disappointed. Though when he saw something other than the wall in his way, he was shocked. For the man who had fallen to his suplex was falling down towards him and before Tim could even react he was hit once more, this time, so hard that he couldn't register it before he was already on the ground, planted in a crater.

The room was now spinning in a variety of directions and he blinked multiple times to regain focus, all to no avail.

The giant of a man landed on his feet leaving a few cracks under his feet. His grin was just as predatorial as ever and he cracked his knuckles in achievement. "I guess, you didn't know who you were messin' with. Ey kid?" He looked over at the boy who was struggling to pick himself off of the ground, surprised that he didn't just break every bone in his body. "New statement," he said in a low tone. "Subject seems to be dangerously durable. If he doesn't die during detainment, his dosage should go up triple what he was previously given."

Tim was barely on his feet when he looked back at the man who was slowly changing in skin color from peach to grey. Even his hairy arms were turning grey. No, it was actually a silver color which reflect his surroundings. Tim glanced up at the ceiling then back to the man, figuring that he'd have to get past him first before escaping. "I don't know who you are, but if you think your metal powers are going to scare me out of escaping, I'm going to have to sorrowfully show you the error of your thought pattern."

"Oh..." The man grinned. "You sure talk a big game kid. Almost as much as your fellow criminals. Men always come here talking of how they're going to escape my jail. They come with way bigger mouths than you and powers that'll put yours to shame. Yet you think you're different. Hehe. I'm the damn warden. Do you know what that title means? What it means in a hell whole city like this?"

"Yeah. It means you choked a lot before getting here."

"What?" The warden was paused in thought on the meaning of the young mans words, which gave Tim the perfect opportunity to charge him. Letting loose the second of the three cartridges on his back, he launched towards the man ready to give him the punch of a lifetime. However, the impact wasn't the type that had wanted. Instead of pushing him forwards, or being paused by the strength of his metal body, Tims hand when straight through. The impact felt as if he was punching through a thick gelatin that slowly hardened the more he struggled and soon he found that he was able to remove his arm from the mans chest.

"So. You're trying to call me out of my sex? Heh. You have nice wordplay for a hoodlum. Though, you took the plunge and ended up in the depths. You shall never escape the flames of eternity once there. So I suggest you pray." From the wardens back, three long flowing objects began forming themselves in a grotesque alien manner. Though once they solidified, forming three large blades Tim could feel his stomach drop. With a final smirk sketching it's way across his face, he quietly said, "Seems like I'm pretty fucked then."
...............................................................................................................................................

A few moments earlier

Joe sped towards the Jail wondering if it was actually a good idea to infiltrate it to find some kid from off the street. He was sure he'd have a warrant on his back after this one. That is if he left any traces. It was common for him to cover up his tracks, but he didn't usually need to cover up federal affairs. Even Joe stayed away from the police and military, more worried that he'd have to leave the Wicked Ones than anything. He didn't want to have to go on the run.

He thought about it for the whole trip to the building and once he was close enough to be spotted he suddenly shrugged his shoulders. "I guess the question isn't if I should infiltrate them or not, but if I should crush them or blow em up." He came to a conclusion. All he had to do was blow up the top floor. That's where all of the other's were. It would be an easy cover up. However, a few casualties were bound to happen if he did that, "But that's life I guess. They don't care about you, so why should you care about them. Yep. You're right. I'm right. Of course I'm right. Cuz I'm one of the good guys."

Pointing a finger at the building, a small orb of energy formed before shooting off in the buildings direction, whistling through the air as it traveled. Once it was obvious that it had reached its destination, Joe snapped his fingers looking at the show of destruction in front of him with wide eyes and an innocent smile.
...............................................................................................................................................

Tim closed his eyes as the blades went for his person, awaiting all the pain that was sure to come with getting skewered. However, what he wasn't expecting was a loud whistle followed by a bang which created a quick cloud of dust and debris around the room. His body went into shock from the loud thunderous sound and he was swept off of his feet for their wasn't anything under them anymore. With his mind trying to take everything in, his thoughts seemed to halt until his back finally hit something.

Joe had used the gust of destruction to mask his entrance. He looked around with a quick scan and to his surprise, he didn't even have to check the cells for the boy. It was a successful in and out mission as far as he could tell. "I really hope you don't have any broken bones," he said as he swooped over to Tim and picked him up. "Damn, your heavy. Maybe it's that arm of yours." Joe felt the gauntlet armor that was around the boys arm, pouting at the life like texture it had. He did one more look around the building to make sure there were no eyes on him and blasted another part of the wall to create more dust for his exit. "Mission success. Just wait until Morgan sees you man. We're going to have so much fun."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mei Kulakov Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Morgan Aberlard Character Portrait: Cain Van Slaeghthaus Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Monica Crawford Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny Character Portrait: Timothy Jeromeo Character Portrait: Huey St. Portus Character Portrait: Gemma Morrow Character Portrait: Aleksej Kovac Character Portrait: Mal Larson

Earnings

0.00 INK

Morgan


It would seem Aleksej only wished to say hello to the Wickeds. Morgan watched her leave the vicinity of their home. He had offered, as he did often times, for her to stay with them but her answer was the same as usual, just a simple yet sarcastic no. Briefly he thought of the new recruits they managed to scrounge up. In thinking this he laughed at himself for making it seem like they were trying to reach a quota. Which in a sense they were but not for the reasons a normal business had. The more kids, and adults, they brought in the less they were exposed to the harsh reality of being someone with such inhuman abilities. The Wickeds didn’t have to worry about two or three kids turning into an Other because they allowed for their power to consume them or they simply went to the dark side.

Now that Aleksej was nowhere in sight Morgan went back inside. He took note of the busted down door and the makeshift wall they had made when Cain’s familiar unceremoniously entered the Wickeds compound. With a heavy sigh Morgan began to wonder at the damage the griffin had caused. It wasn’t like they had a secure flow of money coming in. If they did the warehouse would definitely look a lot better than it did now. “Ah well what can you do?” he mused to himself.

~ ~ ~


It hadn’t really been very long since Aleksej’s visit but for the most part everyone was a lot more enthusiastic than normal. Maybe it was because Cain, from his bed, suggested, well more like ordered them to head back out to bring in some more recruits. While the idea appealed to Morgan, he just couldn’t find a decent location that would be good enough for them. The more isolated it was from prying eyes the better however that also meant potential recruits were less inclined to come so far.

The sound of running feet made Morgan pause. Just in time to watch a small group of kids speed down the halls. The kids reminded him of the few families that had truly made their home here amongst the Wicked. Some of the people within this building were parents but without a doubt they were all someone’s kid at one point in their lives, no matter how brief. Now that he thought about the place was getting a little bit rundown and not to mention a tad crowded. Hmm maybe we should move? For all they knew a better, more suitable home awaited them outside the city of Angels, as he liked to call it. Maybe it was time for a new start.



To be continued . . . maybe . . .

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 15 authors