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Post by Mikeyphenplays on Sept 3, 2016 23:38:16 GMT
-Wild Card- As Wild card was going to walk back up to his office a limo started to pull up outside, the man with the clip board was stood near the window looking out and saw the door opening and a large man stepped out along with a smaller man who followed, jumping up and running to the staircase that Wild card was walking up "Sir, Sir!" he shouted getting to the side of the stair case "Whats wrong now?" Wild card asked turning his head to the man "one of the...er.., erm boxers is here" he said out of breath, Wild card looked out the window and saw the man aproching he rushed down the stairs and the man with the clip board started to follow, the Boxer and his manager started to walk up the red carpet that had just finished been laid out for them for this evening, as the boxer got closer to the door Wild card and the man with the clip board where stood waiting as the door man open the door, the manager walked in first on the phone "Yeah yeah, where here right now.... What?, what do you mean their not going to be here, you told me that ESPN would be at the interviews and showing a live event" he shouted down the phone, Wild card cleared his throght loudly "ah hem" the manager looked up and went back to his phone "alright i gotta call you back the guy whos running the ervent wants a word, alright bye!..." he said as he turned off the phone and put it in his coat pocket. Turning up to face Wild card he put on a smile and walked over to him with his arm out ready to shake "Well if it isnt Mr Cooper, nice to meet you im Brad Taft the new manager of Mr Hugo Armatage" the man said as he shook Wild card's hand, "Ah yes Hurracine Hugo, im sure you'll be making a fight for the ages tonight" Wild card said taking his hand back and looking towards the boxer, Wild card claped his hands together "right im afriad Mr Heart isnt avalible at the moment so i'll hand you off to his assistance ...Tim was it?" Wild card said as he turned to the man with the clip board "its erm... Toby actually" he said nerviously, stragtening his glasses he lifted the clip board up "ok, so um... we have a SIgnings and meet...meet and greet after ' gulp' eh the erp Mr Garret arrives, then we...move on t..t..to the interviews at NnnnNnn...Four!" he said nerviously as he looked at his watch "...then after the ...the interview its a sh..sh ...sh short photo op, aaaand finally its the b-BIG match" he continued shaking and flipping through the sheets of his clip board.
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Vigilante
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Post by Arbor on Sept 4, 2016 0:45:48 GMT
Alf Jones Alf finally stood back, shaking his head in slight embarrassment. He was getting increasingly awful at keeping his composure, what with all these happy reunions. He rubbed his face to buy himself time to straighten himself out, before looking up with a smile. "I... I'm doing surprisingly well, despite my age!" He chuckled, hiding the pang of pain he felt as he saw the cybernetics that now seemed to make up half of the young man's body. He had heard that Rory had been wounded in the line of duty, but this... This was far beyond anything he imagined. The poor kid... "How about you? Some daring heroics, I'll bet?" Reaver Darting through the traffic with ease on her custom bike, Reaver finally began to feel some of the tension fade. Life among the Ravagers was rapidly draining on her in ways she had never considered when she set them up. Inferno was a constant source of trouble, and had been becoming so much of an erratic pain in the neck that a real conversation about her membership was almost on the cards- a conversation that no one would enjoy given her explosive properties. And that wasn't all, not now she was gaining responsibility for dozens of men and women, keeping moral up and avoiding inter-troop disputes. Being a de-facto leader, while useful in obvious ways, was not without the kind of stress she had always avoided. Of course, those factors were barely relevant when compared to the monumental mountain of shit that was her... Whatever for Snow. Reaver involuntarily grimaced as that messy box was reopened in her head, a twang of confusing pain filling her stomach. Whatever else that sentiment was, it was certainly painful and was serving as the main source of drama in Ravager life, as well as whatever passed for Reaver's private one. Not only was it becoming increasingly difficult to talk to her without blushing like an idiot teenager, but the whole disaster with Crimson's death/ not-death was sure to explode, and explode hard. Reaver had been avoiding the topic like the plague recently, mainly due to a lack of courage to try and convince Snow of something that would harm her, but the longer it went on the worse it would be. Now Snow was looking into it, and was hunting a phantom, and... The whole thing was enough to make a woman feel sick. Still, things weren't all bad. As she pulled up by Lena's building, and set off inside, she did her best to put these thoughts aside. She was going to be with one of her closest friends, and he was going to enjoy this evening. She reached the room, and knocked on the door, sighing to herself. She really fucking needed this drink. Ragno
Ragno rolled his eyes. This was likely going to be taxing. Hopefully Foley would be worth the backchat. "I am going to be succinct here, Mr Foley, because the task I am putting to you is a personal and important one." He answered, remaining in his business persona. "The pay is your standard fee, along with your release and the easy return of your equipment. The target is an enemy of my friends in the city, one Miss Ambroke, a local crime leader. She is the suspect for a violent attack against the Mercer family, my allies in the city, and she needs to be removed with a quick and efficient show of force. Are you up to the task?"
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Post by LHudson on Sept 4, 2016 11:39:11 GMT
CLAUDIA KRAMER "Even if the conscience is clouded by trauma?" she replied, before looking down and breathing out. "Never-mind, I'll get my personal affairs sorted." Ding. "Well, here we are." She stepped out of the elevator and saw Monica. "Any trouble Miss Johnson?"
BRENDAN FOLEY A rope was thrown down and a body zipped down with it. Gallows, smiling as he threw a harness to the ground for Foley to put on. Foley looked at the officer strangely, before returning to his client. "Just have a few questions." He started putting on the harness with a sense of glee. Finally released, sunshine, colour, actual noise at the end of the tunnel. But he had to do a job, and the questions would help. "Loud or quiet? Taken out on the street or in building? Just her taken out or her entourage with it? If the latter then I am offering half price thanks to your generous release, but I have to tell you that children will not be on the body count, no exceptions."
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Post by AlexJ on Sept 4, 2016 13:44:38 GMT
LENA GARDNER | LEVIATHAN Heartania | City Centre 2nd December 2063 | Morning The door swung open, Lena stood facing Reaver, in a white vest and casual black hoodie. She kept one hand against the door frame, and then leant against it as she looked her dear friend up and down. She then whistled amazedly, and remarked with a devilish smirk on her face, "Ho-ly shit," she paid close attention to her face, "Wearing shades indoors? You must be super ugly right now." Her smile widened as she stepped away from the entrance, beckoning her guest with her free hand; shutting the door behind her. She then led the way past the short, narrow hallway into the much more open lounge and dining space (though at the present time it was more of a minefield of boxes). She approached the end wall, that was primarily a single window, with a breathtaking view of the city, and sat crossed legged in front of a bottle, alongside two shot classes. "Whiskey, made on some remote island I've forgotten the name of. I killed the owner of the distillery a while back, and given he was the last heir to the family business, they went outta the game, meaning when I nabbed this bottle, I had no idea it'd be worth $250,000 after a few years," she poured both shots, "Figured I'd crack this open, especially because I missed your tube-day... I'm guessing I did at least, it's been a while since we've had a little get together. Drink up!" ESTEBAN VARGAS | WARLOCK Heartania | Brownbank Street Alley 2nd December 2063 | Morning Esteban had arrived just in the nick of time. From the alley corner, he could witness a middle to old aged man wail on a much more scrawny, much younger individual. Biting his lip, and taking a few deep breaths through his nose, he moved into view. "You're gonna wish you were never... Hey!" the brute turned to face Esteban, his victim still in his clutches, "Who the fuck are you!? Get the hell outta here kid!" Deathly silent, he chose to ignore the criminal's advice, instead marching to him, his eyes narrow with rage. "Well, don't say I didn't-" Before he could finish, Esteban had grabbed the man by the shoulders, and thrown him into the opposite alley wall, giving the victim a chance to run. He was unable to get back up as the masked man began to repeatedly kick him in the stomach, culminating in a grapple to pull him up against the wall. The following moments were still, save the desperate panting of the apprehended criminal. Esteban had him: he saved the kid's life. But it wasn't enough. Right hook. Left hook. Knee. Headbutt.The series of attacks felt so natural to him; easing him into a point of no return. Headlock. Gut punch. Gut punch. Gut punch.By the time Esteban realised what he was doing, and how it ended last time with a simple dummy, it was too late. Twist. Snap. Throw.His hands began to shake, his eyes wide with the shocking realisation of the past few seconds as he saw the lifeless body of the criminal at his feet. Every moment felt like a lifetime before he kicked himself back into action, and denied himself the luxury of freaking out about his murderous outburst until he returned to a safe space. So he ran, back to the Forge, still keeping his mind clear as one other brutal realisation seeped into his subconscious. She can never know.
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Post by Newspaper Swatting Queen on Sept 4, 2016 22:54:08 GMT
~ Snowflake ~ Snowflake’s eyes widened as the man thought, his mind obviously winding back time, going through yesterday’s trauma to his fragile soul before he blurted out what Snowflake wanted to hear. “Well someone is a bit paranoid,” Snowflake chirped, letting him take a step towards her. What was important now was that he felt like he was in control of the situation- maybe that way he would talk more easily. And if he didn’t… Well, at least he might spill some more if they got a bit up close and personal. “We’ve never followed you anywhere; you wouldn’t be alive if we did. And who the fuck is Jason?” Snowflake replied with a slightly annoyed tone, standing perfectly still as her hands slipped out of her jacket’s pockets and she thought back to yesterday, then the fight at the stadium. Her face lit up a little as she vaguely remembered a few of the faces, but one of them stood out; the superhuman jock she fought yesterday. “That brute who kept throwing people around like paper airplanes?” She glared, “If yes, I’m glad he’s dead. He flung me off the bridge yesterday. You and him worked for the High Chancellor, right?” Her eyes sharpened and she looked at Luke with a new set of eyes; it didn’t matter if he was on the Citadel’s side in the battle, but maybe she could level the field a bit and catch him off guard. “Did you know that the pathetic king of the hill kidnapped… someone and their brother to get information on the Ravager’s?” Her fists clenched and she swallowed; she hadn’t let herself think about what had happened two months ago on purpose, but right now the situation called for it. With her voice choking up a bit, her fists shook slightly in rage as her once calm demeanour changed completely. “That he took a wrench and tortured them in front of their brother? That he held a loaded gun to the little kid’s head, only to beat them up with a wrench once he got what information he needed?” She took a deep breath, forcing her fists to unclench as she listened to the man’s breathing and measured his stance; how had this affected him, if at all? “The fight at the Capital City was caused by none other than the Broker and as a result of his actions. If you, or anyone you knew, worked for that man you should thank the heavens that things didn’t turn out even worse than they did, because trust me: he was rotten to the core, going on about 'saving the city', while as a matter of fact he was a lot worse than Reaver. The only difference is, he didn't blow up a bridge to get respect but instead snuck his way to power like the rodent he was.”
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Post by iCaramelBird on Sept 4, 2016 23:49:36 GMT
- HUNTER -
Luke listened carefully, trying his best to step to the side as he glanced at the woman with the gun still in his hands, needless to say he was getting used to its weight again, finding his body shivering less and less, whether from the cold fear that froze over him or the harsh blood that boiled beneath his skin and threatened to leak out of his closed wounds. He listened to the woman's every word, and part of him wanted to believe they were lies, fibs, and folly that fell and splashed his ears with a type of venom that would taint his mind. Luke still had no idea who this woman was, what she had been through, he just knew that she was dangerous, a type of danger that would bring the city to its knees if the people weren't careful, and he tried with his every last fibre to be careful. Yet part of him wasn't, his lips parted, his gaze softened as he continued to listen to the woman's words, watch her language translate through her body. Her clenched fists, her venomous words, the spite, and anger of it all made him saddened, and angrier all the same.
He felt his finger almost reach for the trigger when she uttered those foul words about Jason, rejoicing in his death and at first he thought that her attempts for pity was her shifting the blame, trying to make it out that The Broker was the worst person in the world, and to some extent, she was right. Luke almost felt pity for her, looking at her through sorrowful eyes and as he opened his mouth, he found himself reaching out for an apology, ready to utter the words but holding himself back. He glanced away, just for a moment as he thought about her words, and turned back towards the woman. Luke's glare was still there, though it had softened and he finally realized once and for all, what kind of person this woman was, the way she conducted herself, the way she lurched onto her every word and twisted Luke from the inside. He shook his head, his glare returning, as he looked at the woman.
“You're right. You're completely and utterly right. The Broker, was a disgusting shell of a man, and do you want to know the worst part of it all?” Luke uttered, his voice felt weaker as he gulped, holding the gun tightly as his shallow mind cursed at the woman once more. He lowered his voice. “You're all the same. You're all just vultures. You pick whoever you please, and you tear them apart, cast them down, and spread chaos and death to everything you touch, and convince yourself you're doing it for whatever reason that will get you to sleep at night. At the end of the day, the only difference between you and the High Chancellor was whether you were a liar. He lied to himself, telling himself that he was a good man, but you probably told yourself the truth, that you're a bad person, and that alone is reason enough for all of you to be the people you choose to be. I can tell you now, you can try to take everything, but this city and all its chaos won't be enough to fill whatever void is left inside of you.”
Luke paused, once more, reminding himself to hold back, the pain only seemed to make his emotions roar inside of him, he was like a dragon with no mouth, a chasm of fire burning inside of him, but trying so desperately not to erupt. “I didn't work for the High Chancellor, not for the last few months, and when I did, I didn't recognize who I was.” It was true, Luke felt as if he were a vulture with no wings nor hunger, left to flock alone in an empty sky and still he starved. “I left, for a good reason and only helped him to protect this city and the people I love from people like you, Jason gave his life protecting people from people like you.” Even through all his saddening anger, Luke still wanted to apologize for the woman, feeling as if she, out of most people, needed it. “I'm sorry for whatever you felt like that monster did to you. But I don't want to fight you, not here, and not now.” Luke stepped to the side once more, now somewhat away from the chain link fence.
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Citizen
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Post by t00bz on Sept 5, 2016 2:42:12 GMT
-The Countdown- The Red Racer The Red Racer flipped a page of a lengthy Tower security report from the past night. They sat a table in their Heartania garage, legs kicked up and crossed on a small empty space of the table. Several mechanical tools were strewn across it, along with a couple empty pill bottles. They would start with the Tower staff with the highest potential, and work their way through from there. In this case, they had chosen the mountaineer - Klondike. He had sustained minor injuries last night, surprising considering the presence of Inferno. He had been lucky. The Racer flipped the page, and then noticed everything beginning to feel tight. As if the air somehow began carrying an unexpected weight. Along with that, were they shaking? They looked at their arms and legs. Maybe not, they tried shaking it off and continued through the report. Klondike was among the last to return to the Tower outpost with the Sanator. They felt sweat run down the side of their face. Why the hell was that? It wasn't hot outside, it was the beginning of December. The Racer stood up, and stumbled. They reached out and balanced themself on the table before hitting the ground. Their legs shook under them. The Racer looked back at the report, which they had put onto the table, the words had turned into a jumbled mess. The neat typing of the entry was turning fuzzy, like a bad TV or computer. The Racer raised their helmet's visor, trying to cool off. They almost took the entire helmet off, but stopped, better to be cautious, couldn't risk anything happening again. They shut their eyes, hard, and then opened them again, hoping everything would appear normal again, as one does when their vision becomes blurry for a moment. But when the Racer opened their eyes, they smelled smoke of the Fog District being burned to the ground. Then exactly two gunshots. Distant. But the interval was unmistakable. The Racer remembered those shots as if the sound had been etched into their brain - the pain certainly had. They found themselves on all fours on the ground, one hand clutching their abdomen and feeling the uneven skin. The scars would be a reminder of the day, and any memories they brought would haunt them for the rest of their life. As they did now. The aching of their old wounds broke into a sharp pain, and the Racer's body seized. They hit the cold floor of the garage and clutched their wounds even tighter with both hands. They didn't look down, but they felt warmth flowing over their hands. Blood. Then the Racer lay on the cement floor, gasping for air. Their grip eventually loosened, and with that, the rest of their body. The initial shaking went away, and the pressure on their body loosened, everything returned to normal - though there wasn't much of a definition for "normal" for the Racer nowadays. After a long pause, the Racer tested their arms for shaking, leaning back with their hands planted on the floor. Then they tried their legs. They took several deep breaths, then looked back at the report. They needed this work done, fast. The Racer found their bottle of Venlafaxine and swallowed a pill. Hopefully it would prevent anything from happening again for a little while. They sat down, and continued reading the report on Klondike. Though a few memories swam up from the back of their mind. They were of old friends. Ben Carter had been the quiet, nice guy in their group. An easy smile and a willingness to go along with the others, along with the occasional, but always worthwhile sassy remark, had made him liked by everybody. When their homes had been burning down, he'd been driving back to see his parents in the Fog District when the breakout had occurred. The Racer turned over the last page of Klondike's file and marked an 'X' under Klondike. Then looked at their computer for the next person.
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Post by Yabvi on Sept 5, 2016 17:34:10 GMT
Monica looked back at Claudia, her brow furrowed and her gaze steely. "Ms. Kramer, please hurry up and open this door. This is a police investigation and I'm sure that neither of us want what will happen if you don't open this door." Monica sounded serious, her tone sharp as a knife. Monica wasn't going to have Claudia acting willy-nilly.
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Post by Newspaper Swatting Queen on Sept 5, 2016 21:52:25 GMT
~ Snowflake ~ Snowflake watched his expression change as he realized what she was trying to do; it seemed that trying to get under his skin would be somewhat more difficult than she originally thought. She kept calm as he insulted her, only inspecting him closer as he tried to hold back the contempt and disgust he held for people like her. If the grey scarf weren’t lowered underneath his chin it would have been very difficult to hear what he said, but even mutters would have added to the palpable tension between the pair. The leather jacket over his black shirt looked cold for the season, and as Snowflake watched him take yet another step to his side a drop of water falling on him from the balcony, she knew that she had to do something before he made a run for it- or even worse, shot her. He was wounded, bandages barely visible under his shirt as they bulged the fabric slightly, catching Snowflake’s attention. If she was to strike that would be the first and most painful spot- or maybe the slightly thicker left arm also concealed some kind of wound? The gun in his grip was still shaking though not as violently as before; that could also be another weak spot. But there was also something that seemed familiar, or rather, recognizable about him; the sword around his back, the holster for his gun hidden under the side of his jacket- obviously he was a prepared man, and judging from the stuffed rucksack weighing heavy on his back he was also a man going somewhere. For a moment she recalled the mention of a hacker who worked independently these past two months, the grey scarf around his neck always the same just like his messy brown hair and tall lean stature. Snowflake’s anger reverted to amusement, this time added with but a hint of unsureness. If this really was the hero who had started making a name for himself during the past weeks, she would have to be a bit more cautious… But that didn’t make her hesitate in any way as she spoke a chirpy tone. “You don’t want to fight? Fine. But please consider this; how different are the two of us?” Snowflake mused, “When you call me a vulture, don’t you find a striking resemblance between you and me? Both of us fighting for what we want, what we need to happen, picking off the weakest until finally there is someone worth fighting or we reach or goal?” She forced herself to not look at the puddle next to his foot or the water dripping on his jacket, a sinister and slightly nervous smile as she braced herself for her next stinging word. “Or what do you think, Hunter?” As soon as she had said his alias, a ray of water shot up from the puddle and launched itself at the gun in his hand, knocking it away as Snowflake darted forwards to give the man a forceful push against the wall.
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Post by iCaramelBird on Sept 5, 2016 22:36:13 GMT
- HUNTER -
Luke watched her, his eyes grew with pity as he could no longer bear to hold back the saddened and piteous expression on his face quelled only through the possibility that this woman may let him go, that there was a chance he wouldn't have to fight to hold onto the remains of his life, clutching onto its final dregs as he allowed the venom to pour into his mind. He just took one slow step, failing to realize that he was under a dangerous path, too busy concerned with the woman's movements, her expressions, she was someone who was on the opposite side of the bloodbaths that they had both faced, and yet at the same time he realized too whether or not they were in similar positions. Were they both alike in one way or another? He almost shook his head, disbelieving her every word and yet finding that same resemblance, he knew it himself that he was a wingless vulture, far too weak to prey on the others like she did. But he had done it before. The Vipers, the photographer, the battle, all of it flickered through his mind as reminders, though he glared at her. He was the same, but he was a hero, he was the hunter, and he would be damned if he were to shy away from it. He may have done bad things in his life, but he knew he did a whole lot of good too. The people he killed, he regretted every time, and yet he was still standing, still breathing, and still scraping through whatever life got in the way with the mind to try and help people. He may not be a good person, but he knew he did good things, and he wouldn't let a woman who had done so much take that away.
He continued to watch as the woman seemed to look at him up and down, he felt exposed as he wondered why the woman was looking at him up and down, her eyes trailing away to something that seemed to be upon his body yet not able to put together what she was looking at it. He felt like a spectre, a ghost, or a shell of a person that she was studying, wondering how to further carve them out as he noticed the familiar tapping on his shoulder. Droplets of water flitted over his leather jacket, a drop or two dripping down, one that he hadn't noticed before as he dared to not take his eyes off the woman, continuing to listen to them. A familiar dampness was underfoot as he realized the step he took was in a puddle of freezing water, chilling his feet through his shoes as he heard the infamous name, the one name that he chose and protected dearly throughout the turnabout of his life; Hunter. His eyes widened in realization.
“I-” A stream of water shot up from underneath his feet, causing him to almost slip as he felt the weight escape his grip, clattered to the floor as the woman rushed to him, he skidded slightly as he tried his best to step back, a heat burning from his wounds from the quick movement and the painful barrage of ice cold water that struck his already cold hands. He tried to do everything within his power to push the woman away before he yelled out in pain, concrete colliding with his back. He had only realized now how far the woman had carved him out, and with her final word she had succeeded in attacking one thing that was precious above all, his heroism. Luke furrowed his brows now, realizing that the peaceful solution had died like the breath that escaped his lungs as he felt the weight of the woman against him. He kneed against her stomach, trying his best to push her off, as he dove towards the gun that fell towards the floor. The mental pain of the memories and the physical pain of the woman and his wounds were beginning burning his body from the inside out, and yet he would be damned if he would submit to either of them.
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Post by Newspaper Swatting Queen on Sept 5, 2016 23:27:40 GMT
~ Snowflake ~
The kick to Snowflake’s stomach knocked the air out of her, but as Hunter dove for the gun she held onto his shoulder and followed suit towards the ground, not reaching for the gun but instead partly freezing it to the ground as she frantically searched for a way to subdue the man. She still needed him to talk. Giving his heavy rucksack a push to the side, she swiftly jabbed a newly formed icicle through his jacket’s right sleeve, freezing it to the ground, and pushed herself down on his torso to prevent him from reaching for his sword. She hoped that it would hurt like hell. - Hatty Bellcrest - Hatty opened her eyes that morning, not knowing the first thing of where she was or how she had come to be inside the dimly lit room. With a groggy sigh she turned her head on the soft pillow when she felt her face being oddly… stiff. It was as if she couldn’t even yawn properly, her mouth only widening slightly as it felt like the outside of her skin was somehow restricted. Her eyes opened wide at this and she looked out on the room she was in with surprise and amazement, momentarily forgetting what state she was in. The walls were covered with expensive velvet, looking to be decorated accordingly to an 18th century mansion from a country overseas. In the middle of the room stood a low table in the most exquisite deep brown colour, on it placed a nimble little vase filled with light pink roses and black carnations, around it a nice set of porcelain plates and a tray with a fresh pot of tea. Hatty sat up in the soft bed, confused as she looked down at what she was wearing- a fluffy dress, much like a dolls’ with fluffy tulle strutting everywhere from her hips down, over them a silky red fabric which fell over the light material once Hatty stood up on her feet. Barefoot she stood on the velvety carpet which tickled her feet as she glanced around the rest of the room in amazement, oddly enough not stricken by fear as she started to wander around the seemingly grand but rather small room. There were two doors; one of which was locked, while the other lead into a small bathroom. When she looked in the mirror she was stunned; her face had painted to perfection, a whiter shade of her skin tone making her really appear like a porcelain doll because of her rosy red lips and hazel eyes framed by a darker brown colour. Hatty shuddered at this and then froze; she heard a lock turning in the other room and braced herself as she peeked out of the door to see a silhouette standing near the table, pouring tea into two of the cups as she tried getting a closer look at them. “I can hear you, you know.” The individual paused, having stopped pouring the liquid into the cups as they straightened their stance and turned to the door Hatty was hiding behind. “There’s no need to be shy, little rose. Come on out. Let me see.” Hatty gulped, creaking the door open just a bit more as if she was still hiding, and walked into the main room.
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Post by iCaramelBird on Sept 6, 2016 20:59:24 GMT
- HUNTER -
Luke felt himself barely able to stifle his grunts for pain before he yelled out, feeling the woman leaning on him as he was unable to budge his arm, his eyes flitted upwards in shock as he saw an icicle land in front of him, clinging him to the ground as he looked up desperately for some way to get the woman away from him. He scrambled in panic, trying to kick out in his pain before he calmed down and felt the icicle lose its stature, melting at an alarming rate as he pressed his hand flat against the cold surface of the ground before he glared up at the woman, barely moving his hand as he froze the icicle again and shot it in her direction.
“Get off of me!” yelled Luke as he felt himself give one last kick in the woman's direction towards her leg. His hand felt numb after what he thought would be such a simple motion with his powers, but he scrambled away quickly heading towards the gun. As he did so, Luke felt his heart ram itself against his chest, time threatening to slow down once more as he watched his numb hand reach out for the gun, thankfully no longer stuck to the shadows of the alleyway and instead clinging to the light that streamed from the public streets of the city, people passed by and yet Luke felt so far deep into the shadowy alleyway that nobody would see them, despite his whimpers of pain and the clashing of bodies and wall alike. Nonetheless, he barely felt his fingers begin to weigh heavily upon him, clambering towards the gun and barely grasping, a new light shone in his eyes, a type of excitement that he had felt before, one that almost matched the feeling of bloodlust inside of him. It was only a strife of fear that dawned on him as though he reached for the gun, he held his instincts back, reminding himself to shoot the woman in the leg and get out of here. He could put restraints on his own bloodlust, but he couldn't always say the same for others.
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Post by Newspaper Swatting Queen on Sept 8, 2016 21:33:00 GMT
~ Snowflake ~ As Hunter, or Luke Jones as Snow now recalled his name to be, struggled under her pressure, Snowflake was not prepared for the icicle to come flying back at her. The object grazed the side of her head and worked as a distraction for the kick impacting with her leg. She yelped out in pain and pushed back in surprise, but only for a brief moment; with the gun on the ground she too, threw herself forwards to reach for it.
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Post by Adam on Sept 8, 2016 23:17:02 GMT
ANOMALY | Rory Cross Heartania | The Tower
2nd December 2063 | Morning "You could say that, yeah," Rory grinned, "CC's a big place, not as... busy as Heartania - mind you - but its huge... never a dull moment." Alf was a shadow of the man Rory had seen over the years - from afar - far from the steadfast, tortured soul Rory had expected to meet. Once, Rory had raised Alf out of a self-destructive rut and it had seemed that - for many years after Rory had left - Alf had sunk back into his brooding ways. This man was lighter, happier. He looked down, breaking eye contact. Despite the happiness one question burned at the back of his mind. "What... happened? The city; crippled? These... these Ravagers on the loose? Robot soldiers trawling the streets? We've always had villains but how did they get so... successful?" Rory paused, he wasn't being accusatory or even mad, just disappointed. Perhaps in the system, perhaps in the city's resolution, not in his mentor but certainly in something. "So many good guys in Heartania yet these cutthroats still have The Big H by the balls?"
APOLLO | Jay Hearne Heartania | Kathy's
2nd December 2063 | Morning Jay smiled; she'd actually come. He lead Haley to a spot not too far from the gym, a café diner on the edge of the suburbs. It was a quaint place - cheap enough for someone as poor as Jay to be able to afford while still charming - tidy and clean though with stained floor tiles and curled wallpaper. This was a caff that had no shame in admitting it had been used; loved. "It's not much," Jay smiled as he courteously opened the door before her, "But the food's cheap, and the folks are kind." he laughed nervously.
BACKLASH | Mason Vance Heartania | Highrise
2nd December 2063 | Morning "Ouch." Mason joked, "Don't worry its nothing Backlash can't handle." He watched Clyde move; the folded arms, classic, he was trying to act stern, scary, nah. "So whats the update?" Mason asked, approaching the Warden and overlooking the city beside him.
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Post by Jaminx on Sept 9, 2016 10:30:40 GMT
Haley reached out lightly touching Jay's arm as she walked through the held open door but letting her hand drop quickly in case it made him uncomfortable. It was an old fashioned courteous move that made her happy. It showed a little care towards her, something she was lacking in her life.
"This place is lovely and on my salary cheap is needed and kind is appreciated." Haley glanced around taking in the hot food smell, the slow buzz of peoples conversations and spotted an empty table with worn in chairs that showed the marks where many a person had sat before.
"Should we sit over there?" She indicated her head with a small motion her words lightly tinged with hesitancy.
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