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Monica Crawford

"Why bother you won't read this anyway...."

0 · 395 views · located in The Wicked

a character in “Wicked Ones”, as played by laxnchill20

Description

|| Monica Crawford ||




What is my purpose?






||Street Name ||
N/A
|| Age ||
17
|| Gender ||
Female
|| Sexuality ||
Why bother everyone hates me
|| Role ||
Unknown - Assumed to be an Other but has no negative aganda
|| Face Claim ||
Kyou - Clannad



Image
|| Hair Color ||
Purple
|| Eye Color ||
Purple
|| Skin Tone ||
Light
|| Height ||
5'3
|| Weight ||
104 lbs
|| Appearance ||
She is relatively small, and has long purple hair. She has stunning purple eyes, that no one ever pays attention to. She typically wears her school uniform (despite the fact that she is on longer in school). She wears a single charm in her hair near her left ear. Which consists of a tan button down top and a short blue skirt. If one could ever look past the unlovability they would probably find her quite attractive.




Image
|| Personality ||
Monica is a lonely and depressed kid; she has attempted suicide a couple times, but has failed because of her immortality. She has never told anyone about this, no one has ever cared. She wants nothing more than to make friends but people are unnaturally repulsed by her, even other kids without friends would rather be alone then spend time with her. Monica’s family wants nothing to do with her and sent her to boarding schools when she was 8, she only sees them in the summer. And even then they do as much as they can to avoid being around her.

Monica is uneasy around other people, because others tend to treat her poorly she doesn't know what how to act around others. She tries to stick to herself and not bother anyone.

|| Likes ||
Stuffed animals, they are the only things she can love that don’t leave her.
Music, most of the music she listens to would be considered sad or depressive by most.
The stars, they are always beautiful and always there, they never leave her.
Nighttime, she can look at the stars.
|| Dislikes ||
Large groups of people
Expressing emotions, others expressing emotions
Television, TV is filled with stories of the loner kid being befriended by others, but that's not how life really works
Airplanes, some of the worst moments of her life have been the plane rides to and from home and school. Hours in a small space with lots of people...
|| Personal Weakness ||

Unlovability: Because she is surrounded by Nehter Energy, something that the average person naturally feels compelled to avoid, she is unlovable, this means:
She is entirely unlikable, at best someone MIGHT feel indifferent towards her. When someone is not near her they might like her, but upon meeting or becoming close to her they are overwhelmed with negative feelings towards her. It is not so strong as to force you to wish her harm or death. Of course over long periods of time, strong willed individuals will be able to grow accustomed to the energy around her and can look past it and see the real her.

Self-Esteem: Monica has absolutely no confidence whatsoever, she has no faith in her own ability to do anything, her grades in school were crap, she has no friends, and she has never even attempted sports. The only thing she is confident of, is her abilities as a gymnast, her mother forced her to study it when she was young and after being sent to boarding schools she continued the training.

Empathy: Because no one ever cared for or about Monca she doesn't understand how to empathize or sympathize with other people. She doesn't treat others as poorly as she has been treated but she does lack the knowledge how to interact with others. As a result she is incredibly shy and socially awkward.







Nether Manipulation (major): The ability to influence and manipulate the powers of the Nether, there are a few way Monica can use the powers the common ways are:

Death Force Beam: A beam of Nether Energy that decays and withers all living things it touches. It takes immense concentration if Monica wants to use the attack to hurt and not kill. This is incredibly taxiing on Monica. She can use it maybe one before she is exhausted, if she tried to use it a second time it would like cause her to pass out. The longer she feeds Nether Energy into the beam the more tired she is after it's use.

Pain Inducement: Monica can use the Nether to inflict great agonizing pain in others. This pain is unbearable but leaves no lasting effects. She must touch the target for this ability to function. She has a small amount of control over how much damage this does but not much.

Nether Aura: Monica can surround her arms and legs with an Aura of Nether Energy. This assists her in hand to hand combat, as when the energy touches someone else it begins to infect them necroticly as the very energy of the Nether is toxic to all living beings. This necrotic effect has a very small range and dissipates when contact is broken. It really only causes her physical attacks to pack a little bit more of a punch.

Nether Immunity: Due to constant exposure to Nether Energy, and her ability to manipulate it, she is immune to its affects. Her body is resistant to most poisons, needing massive doses to seriously harm her.

Death Sense (minor): Monica can sense death in all it's forms. Anyone she meets she can sense when they'll die, she knows exactly when everyone around her will die, but there is nothing she can do to stop it. This adds to her depression magnifying it and making her even more apathetic. The only change she can make to when someone dies, is to induce their death early.

Death Inducement (minor): Monica can simply touch someone and will their death. This is done by overloading the person with Nether Energy, killing them as their bodies cannot handle massive amounts of the energy of death. The fact that Monica is capable of doing this is always on the forefront of her mind. It is not a curse she would wish on anyone. (note this is not a combat technique, but rather is something she knows her power is capable of and she despises.)



|| Weakness ||

Nether Energy: Nether energy itself is rather difficult to control, as a result it is very tiring for Monica to use it, and it dissipates quickly if she stops focusing on it, the pain from pain inducement stops when physical contact is broken, the damaging effects of the beam heal over time if she doesn't continually feed new energy into it, etc.

Physical Body: Her body is incredibly frail and weak as a result of the constant exposure to Nether energy, she might be a rather skilled gymnast but if you manage to land a hit on her, it is going to hurt.

Limitations to Death Sense: She knows when and how those around her will die, the cause of someones death however is not absolute and changes when they are put into perilous situations the cause she senses shifts to the more immediate dangers and back to something else after the danger passes. The rapidly changing causes of death and the fact that she is ALWAYS aware that we all die are constant distractions to her. Furthermore the only death she wants to sense is her own, and it happens to be the only one she can't sense.

|| Biography ||
From the day Monica was born she has been ignored. She has never had any friends or acquaintances, in fact almost everyone she meets hates her, and the few people that don’t hate her treat her as if she isn't there. Her parents despise her, sending her to train in gymnastics from an early age, because if she was training she wasn’t around. Monica worked hard to become a good gymnast so her parents would be proud but they weren't. When Monica was old enough they dumped her in boarding school after boarding school just to get rid of her. She continued to take lessons in gymnastics because the couches didn't treat her any worse than anyone else, they treated all of the students with disdain. She is a skilled gymnast but not phenomenally so, she never won any major competitions or anything like that. When she was 12 she got particularly upset one night, she was crying alone in her room, like she usually did, her dog, who happened to walk into the room suddenly dropped dead. She wasn't incredibly upset about it, as her dog liked her about as much as anyone else did, but she thought it odd that she couldn't find a cause of death. She tried to kill other random animals, bugs, rats and the like and found that she was the one causing this. She spent some time exploring what she could do with these powers. She started using them to punish others, causing pain in those who treated her the worst. She did this for a while but ultimately stopped because she was only further isolating herself from others. At age 14 she was devastated and alone, she was convinced the world would be better off without her, she jumped off a bridge into the river below hoping to end her life. She jumped in the middle of the night hoping no one would notice. She woke up three hours later in a hospital bed, a random passerby had seen her jump and called an ambulance. Even the doctors and nurses spent as little time as possible around her, this only added to her despair. While in the hospital she heard the rumors of the Wicked One's and decided to move to L.A.

She dropped out of school the day after she got out of the hospital and purchased a train ticket to L.A. with the intention of finding the Wicked Ones. When she arrived in the city she realized she had no idea how to find them. As a result she spent the next three years moving from crappy job to crappy job. Barely getting by living in a small hardly furnished apartment. She had difficulty staying in a job for long, people hate her and that makes hard to hold on to a job. On her 17th birthday after yet another depressing and abysmal year Monica decided to finally end it. She found an abandoned warehouse not far from her apartment, she went there after a crappy birthday spent working. She wasn't going to try pills or chemicals again she decided to pit her own damn powers against herself. She sat down in the center of the warehouse and cried. She called on the Nether Aura trying to infect herself, and when that didn't work she induced pain on herself hoping that she would die of pain, she nearly passed out from the pain but it didn't kill her. She tried to induce death on herself but again it didn't work. As she did this the Aura kept growing, mice, bugs and other small animals around the warehouse were all dropping dead instantly. Larger creatures like dogs and people walking by were starting to feel sick as if the very air around the warehouse was toxic.

||Why they joined/want to join the Wicked Ones||

She moved to L.A. to join the Wicked Ones, hoping to finally meet some people who didn't hate her. She then gave up that idea, there is a small part of her that hopes they will reach out to her, but she doesn't think it will happen.



Why does everyone hate me?

So begins...

Monica Crawford's Story

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
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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!!

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Character Portrait: Monica Crawford Character Portrait: Timothy Jeromeo
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#, as written by Damioa
[editing] ^__^

Setting

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Character Portrait: Monica Crawford Character Portrait: Timothy Jeromeo
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#, 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

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

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Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Monica Crawford
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#, 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.

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

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

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Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Monica Crawford
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#, as written by Byte
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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.

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

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Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Monica Crawford
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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.

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Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Monica Crawford
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#, as written by Byte
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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...

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Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Monica Crawford
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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.

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Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Monica Crawford
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#, as written by Byte
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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

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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
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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.

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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
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#, 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?"

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Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Monica Crawford Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny Character Portrait: Mal Larson
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#, as written by Byte
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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...

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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
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#, 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.

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

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Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Shadow E. Loveheart Character Portrait: Monica Crawford Character Portrait: Joe/Seph Broliny Character Portrait: Mal Larson
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#, as written by Byte
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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.

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Character Portrait: Mercy Character Portrait: Monica Crawford
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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
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#, as written by Byte
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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
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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
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#, 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
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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
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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: 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
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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 . . .