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Evan Brohm

Don't trust a ho.

0 · 1,996 views · located in Wing City

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by NotAFlyingToy

Description

Image
3OH!3 wrote:Tongues, pressed to your cheeks.
While my tongue is on the inside of some other girl's teeth.
Tell your boyfriend, if he says he's got beef,
That I'm a vegetarian.
And I ain't fucking scared of him.


A man with flat blue eyes and a charming smile; between the two of them, he can go far in this life. Nobody quite knows what Evan does for a living or who he thinks he is, but he has the reputation of a bit of a womaniser. Hell, you would be too, if you had guns like that.

So begins...

Evan Brohm's Story

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Evan smiled down at her, keeping his fists clenched. There was something weird about this; giving him goose bumps and making him shiver slightly. Still, he couldn't deny that her arm around him felt nice. It must be the situation he's walking right into. "Your company is perfect, my dear."

As they cleared the tree line, he continued meandering along, quietly observing the place. "Hm. You sure he went this way? I don't see any signs of running."

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Evan whipped around, circling the woman at his arm to face the shadow flickering in the distance. Stooping down low, he picked up a rock that had been rolling loose from a stone pile off to the left, flinging it as hard as he could towards the shadow. If Kioni paid careful attention, she'd notice that the rock lightened slightly as it was fired from the postal worker's hand, but the bending of light was brief and minor.

The rock sailed home, the aim deadly accurate. "Baseball's paying off!" Evan cried, before grabbing another stone and stepping in front of the woman, readying his second salvo.

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He didn't nearly see it coming.

While he was winding back for his second shot, the woman's blow sent him staggering forward, his skull cracking with the force of the blow as he slumped to the floor of the forest, his hands and knees launching outward to stop his fall. He rolled to the side, curling into a fetal position, feeling an oozing trickle down the back of his neck. For some reason, his vision swam - all he saw were eyes. Dark blue eyes, hovering around him.

The back of his head was erupting into dark blue light, that immediately began to create strands and webs on the inside of his skull, leaving a ray of brilliant navy firing out the back of his head. Within moments, the skull was repaired, and Evan was still conscious.

"W-what..."

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Just as she was about to pin his arms, however, a sudden burst of white-hot energy flew forth from the downed human. The energy came off in a wave, like a solid brick wall; an instinctive reaction to the man's body being in danger. One of his hands suddenly sprouted a blue shell, coating it entirely in a solid, burning glove. The ground beneath the hand hissed and withered from the intense heat.

Evan closed his eyes, and when they opened, the entirety of his eyes; the whites, the iris, the pupil - all became an omniscient blue.

"My daughter," he boomed, in a voice like a greek chorus. "You are making a mistake."

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"You have picked a quarrel with a God in a human vessel, my daughter." The greek chorus boomed again. "Allow me to leave this vessel before you attempt consumption; for I will find another. This one's taste for women leaves me... disturbed."

Blinking rapidly, the completely blue eyes turned back into the dead blue of Evan's, his steps suddenly woozy and stumbling. "What...?" He muttered again, before catching sight of Kioni.

"Oh, no." He said, his hands becoming blue mitts again. "Oh, no. No, no no. You're one of those chicks that like, eats people and shit, aren't you?"

He whirled, firing a blue blast towards her. "Stay back! I'm going to tell everyone I know about you, woman. I'm going to make sure you never have a fresh kill again!"

He turned to run, exposing his back to the woman once more, panicking and terrified.

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Her weight was most unwelcome, which is probably the first time that Evan had ever said that to himself, as she pressed him down to the ground. Blindly, he reached behind him with his hands, aiming to grab onto her ankles, hoping the heat would do enough damage to blister her, maybe even burn her skin off. But he didn't have any leverage, and as he rocked backwards, trying to buck her off of him, he began to slowly realise that this was very close to the end.

The setting changes from Wing City Gardens (South) to Master's Dojo

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The other man, however, offered the woman nothing but a slanted grin and a poorly hidden wink. "I suppose I am. Though, gotta say - the only reason I'm here is the off-colour joke on the flier." Reaching into his coat pocket, the man with dead blue eyes began to read from a bit of paper.

"Thrills! Kills! Bicycle hills! I'm currently wearing no pants, and you should totally join the Corpus! More fun then whatever the hell you're currently doing!" He chuckled, putting the paper back into his pocket. "Name's Evan. I'm a post man."

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Evan rubbed his neck, shrugging slightly after the Man-Bear-Pig - or that freakish bird - finished their rant.

"I'm here because I need a little more action in my down time, I guess. That, and what you guys do is a helluva lot better than delivering postal notes and birthday money."

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Evan's grin broadened considerably.

"I like stuff that can get me killed. And don't worry, I can hold my own when it counts." She was begging for a hard-on joke, with a line like that, but Evan was made of sterner stuff to just cave and allow himself to be suckered in to an easy trap. "Unless, soft is what you're into." He grinned even wider.

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Evan blinked once, and then folded his arms, sizing the man up from head to... toe.

"You have to be fuckin' kiddin' me." He murmured, quietly.

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Evan yelped as he was hauled over the man's shoulder and onto his back, but he quickly recovered enough to mutter a strange sort of laugh - high and quick, like someone who was becoming slowly insane. "All right, all right. Let me down; you've made your point." Pushing, he slid to the dojo floor, rolling to his feet a ways away from the crazy man.

"Okay, so we're here. What happens now?"

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Evan nodded, and then rolled his hand in a circular motion, as if to say get on with it. Meanwhile, Nafy bowed again as the lady entered, making Evan roll his eyes slightly at his companion. Dude seemed stiff, unmovable. Probably was a hell of a fighter, though.

The setting changes from Master's Dojo to Gambit's Bar

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Evan Brohm strolled into the bar, as a man did when taking his time. His hands were slung deep into his pockets, his gait slow and steady, tapping his thumbs against his thighs as he made his way. Flat blue eyes and a chiselled jaw were the two features of his face that strangers noticed; the white T-shirt he wore stretching and moulding over his shoulders and stomach, hinting at a defined four-pack. Completing the look were loose levi's, over dark red converse.

He slid into a stool by the bar, silently tapping his glass, his hand reaching for a smartphone and toying with it.

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Evan gave Nadja a cursory glance; noting the power suit and the prim way that she handled a newspaper, before going back to his Angry Birds. She was pretty devastating, a heavy weight champ in the looks department, probably chewing up gentlemen and spitting them out as a hobby. As he sent a red bird flying into a glass house, he couldn't help his smile as he began to think of the thrill of the hunt, the chase and teasing of flirting with an attractive woman. All he needed was a line.

Glancing at the newspaper quickly, knowing what page she was on, he tapped another level, began setting up the play field. As he did, he spoke to her. "There's a personal assistant advertising himself on the back page. About three slots down, used decent text. If that's what you were looking for."

He didn't raise his eyes from his device as another bird smashed through wooden walls, breaking two pigs in a puff of smoke. A satisfying opening volley.

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Evan shrugged at her summary of his intentions, pointing at her lazily. "No, but I do think that no matter what I had said, there, you would've twisted it into an insult. I see the power suit, the impeccable hair, the obvious business way you present yourself. So, someone high up on the food chain. Big fish."

He shrugged. "So, either you're looking for an assistant or a job. And someone like you, seems like you'd have employ pretty quick."

He glanced up at her fully then, gracing her with a small smile.

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He grinned back at her, not straying his eyes past his face. He shrugged idly, pressing the idle button on his phone and slipping the device into his jeans pocket, having to lean back to slide it in smoothly. He wiped his hands idly on his jeans, resting them lightly on his waist. "That's a little ambiguous." He pointed out. "Are we talking your murdering skills? Did you lose a job as a hitmistress?"

He leaned on an elbow, watching her through his flat blue eyes. "And that's why I chose the postal service." He grinned. "Lots of transferable skills there. Driving, sorting, dodging death-defying battles in the streets..."

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Evan Brohm wasn't exactly the greatest of humanitarians, but he liked to consider himself a gift to people. Not in a cocky way - okay, yes, in a totally cocky way - but there was something about him that he knew people liked, and often, he tried to display it as much as possible. And that was why he was dressed in a white shirt, stretched over his muscled torso, tan slacks clinging to his long legs as he strolled into his favourite watering hole, skimming the faces of the patrons until he found one that he liked.

Eyes caressing the back of Lillea's neck and liking what they beheld, the postman reached into his pocket, pulling out a roll of lifesavers. Circling around, he took careful aim and fired in a smooth spaghetti throw, aiming to land the stick in the woman's top.

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A million responses to that little phrase popped into his head at the same time, each mounting higher than the last.

You're already sweet enough.
Aww, not going to give me the chance to retrieve it?
I can shoot even better than that.


Evan chuckled as he reached to catch the candy, the roll bouncing off of his initial grip, but he managed to snag it with his other hand, loosely between index and middle finger. He settled on a stool on the other side of the counter, crossing his arms and leaning on his elbows, one seat away from her, the aforementioned cheesy-ass grin still on his face.

"Give a guy some credit," he said, shrugging his shoulders gracefully, "that was a tough shot to make. I'm Evan, by the way. What're you drinking?"

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He watched the play of liquid in her throat for a moment, taking a good deal of time and a great deal of enjoyment in doing so. When she put the bottle down, he tapped in his own order - a rum and coke - and drummed his fingers against the table, amused by her. Of course, she probably knew now that he was going to need to bring this one in for a landing. Matter of pride, now. She'd provided a challenge.

"I could always try again," he said, waggling his eyebrows as he tossed the lifesaver packet up and down. He didn't even know where he'd got the fucking thing, come to think of it. "I may not hang on to each slice for too long, but I do enjoy keeping a name in my phone for the inevitable curtain-call."

He shrugged again. "And, considering that you only give credit where it's due, I'll take that as a huge compliment. So, were you coming here to expect to drink alone all night, or would you be terribly revolted if I drank this with you?" He tapped the rim of the square, stout glass that held his dark beverage.

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Evan raised his eyebrows at the coarse language, but hey. It wasn't a no. He took a long swallow of the coke, disappointed at the lack of a sting in the drink. Whoever mixed this guy had been weak on the liquor, and he wasn't so impressed by it. He twirled the lightsavers as he finished, allowing him to swallow, and grin.

"That," he said, "would be a very successful attempt. But no, I can honestly say that you're the first one to get the candy-down-shirt routine. Call it a moment of inspiration under duress." Taking another drink, he pointed towards the vodka, mimicking her gesture at the candy.

"Is this your standard drinking routine? Swallow it down with nary a breath, and hope you don't wake up with some ratty dude in the morning without your kidneys?" He eyed the bottle of liquor, and grinned even wider. "Not that you're doing them much good right now."